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Of Non-Writing Writers October 31, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 20 comments

Yaaaaaawn. Yes, I think that just about covers it. How come it’s only Wednesday? When I woke up yesterday I was quite convinced that it was Wednesday and spent the whole day with a slight sense of disappointment. I somehow feel I’m now living this Wednesday again in a Groundhog Day sort of way.

As my working life claws and sucks the hours painfully from my day, there is news both good and bad. The good is that my non-speaking boss has finally been broken down. Not only does she speak, she has even been known to laugh which causes a flurry of staff to run into the office with wide eyes and mouths. The bad? Sigh. She wants me to sign up for a further four months. Aaaarrghh.

I am working more hours than I ever have since the children were born. They come home to an empty house every evening. The dog looks depressed. Clothes are unironed. Emails are unanswered and my blog is unblogged. In typically good timing, the dishwasher has also decided to die and, truly, if I have to wash another dish I will not be responsible for my actions.

Needless to say, the novel is not being written. My fingers are itching to get back at it and I’ve accidentally bought a MacBook to ease said itches. Not very helpful in the being broke department but hey ho.

Oh, woe, a blog of misery I hear you cry… but no. There’s a gorgeous sunrise peering in at me as I type. My day of toil takes place on the edge of Ashdown Forest, which I intend to explore at the weekend.

I can’t see the wood for the trees right now. But. Now I have a MacBook and a forest, I must still be a writer… right? Once I’ve organised my extra secret hour in every day, I’ll be fine. Honestly.


 


 

Of Other Worlds October 25, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 20 comments

So. The interview with Hastings Council. Anything was going to be better than the non-speaking hospital, right? Sigh.

Off I went, clutching my Google map instructions and feeling more bewildered as each minute went on. Past the Conquest Hospital, past some massive industrial estates and on and on… and on… Where was the huge, gleaming glass and chrome council building I’d been expecting?

I found myself on the biggest council estate in the whole world, a city made of burnt out pubs, boarded up shops and houses with smashed up fridges in the front gardens. This can’t be right, I thought. ‘Har’, said the Google map instructions, ‘it sodding well is right.’ My stomach felt a little bit funny. I glanced at the bottom of the email from the agency. I looked ahead at the day care centre. I gulped, as if I were in a rather low-budget horror film.

I parked the car and looked at the large clump of people looking at me. Teenage girls clutching babies and lanky, spotty boys wearing hoodies. I took a deep breath and got out of the car and wibble-wobbled past them in my high heels and black suit. I wondered if they would think I was the police and try to beat me up. I’ve seen The Bill. I know about these things. I felt a bit scared.

I was buzzed into the centre and some right-on, scruffy social workers looked me up and down before I was taken into a non-threatening room and interviewed by a touchy-feely lady with a voice like honey and a frayed skirt who told me about deprivation and breastfeeding.

Somehow, I don’t get the impression I was quite right for the job.

Phew.


Of Crappy Karma October 23, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 14 comments

Oh ho ho. Cosmic jollification has come to bite my big, bruised bottom.

After my kind and considerate mumblings about moaning, crumbly patients, guess who fell to bits on the stairs at work yesterday? ‘Ker-runch’, said my ankle, ‘now I plan to swell up bigger than your head and tomorrow you can totter to your interview in your special high-heeled interview shoes and nobody will have any sympathy for you.’

Bloomin Nora. I currently toil in a posh hospitaly sort of place, crammed with doctors in masks, non-smiling nurses and fat physios who stand at the top of the stairs and watch me trying not to say ‘fuck’ very loudly while clutching my ankle and wiping my watering eyes.

And tomorrow is now today and I have to go for an interview for another temp job that I do not want. I will have to pretend to be interested in working for Hastings Council for approximately the same salary an ant earns in Bulgaria.

I must have done something very bad in a previous life. Wish me luck.



Of Friday Frolics October 19, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 15 comments

Ok, so I’m not really thinking ‘frolics’. I’m thinking something that sort of rhymes with ‘frolics’. Begins with a ‘B’. Can you tell what it is yet?

Reader, I am no longer cut out for the wearisome workplace. As a trembling temp, I have been left to my own devices for the entire week, advising patients on hip replacements and various other medical procedures.

How’s a girl to make any fun out of that?

‘Oh, yes, Madam, you sound terribly crumbly to me. Have you considered a full body transplant?’

I sit, for many hours a day, in an office with a woman who won’t speak to me. She tuts, though, quite a lot. And sighs.

Sigh.

Add to this an army of surgeons and specialists who stalk the corridors clad in masks and operating-theatre-type clothes, presumably to ensure everyone knows they are Gods and should not be approached or spoken to by plebs or subordinates. And nurses who eat their lunch while discussing weeping wounds. It’s enough to make you cry.

Ho ho, another three weeks to go. Perhaps next week they’ll let me do some operations.


 


Of Nervous Nitwittery October 14, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 21 comments

Uh oh. I’m a bit stressy today. Irritable and shouty. For reasons of pennilessness, I have signed on the line and agreed to temp for four weeks. Starting tomorrow. (Or today if you’re reading this tomorrow.) I’ve never been tempted to temp in my life – I always thought it would be too scary, starting new jobs and being considered a useless dimwit. For some reason however, possibly due to aforementioned pennilessness, I decided it would be fine. Oooooh ‘eck.

It’s three months since I last went to work. What if I’m out of practice? How will I react to being surgically removed from my dressing gown and slippers? What if they’re mean to me? What if they hire temps especially to be horrible to? What if they sellotape me up and stuff me in the stationery cupboard?

On a positive note, there will be people to talk to. Even better, the job is in a joint replacement/arthritis clinic so the broken, crumbly people won’t be able to escape while I’m making up for three months without talking. And the clinic is used to having temps. They’ve had lots. So, realistically, I’m not likely to be the worst one ever, am I? Second worst, perhaps.

But. I haven’t had time to get my trousers shortened. Which means that I spent most of yesterday searching for high heels that I can’t walk in but stop my trews trailing in the mud. What if I fall over and make an exhibition of myself?

I’ve no idea what I’ll even be doing when I get there. Perhaps they’ll let me do some operations once I’ve progressed from tea-making, falling over and being tied up?

I’m a bit nervous. Can you tell? At least with my high-heeled hobbling and air of nervousness, I’ll blend in well with the patients while I’m making good my escape…



Of Hovels and Novels October 9, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 16 comments

Oh dear. I seem to have gone a bit quiet. Well, to be honest, I haven’t gone quiet at all, I’ve really been quite noisy but the noise has been coming out of my mouth instead of my fingers.

I’m still recovering from the shock of throwing a dinner party on Saturday evening which somehow cost me about £160 and took two full days of shopping, cooking and cleaning. Take one guest who’s vegetarian, one who hates vegetables, one who only likes sausages & chips, one who faints if he doesn’t get copious amounts of raw meat and two veg, one who’s low-carbing and one who’s normal but critical and, um, shove ‘em all in the blender. Aaarrghh.

Ahem. The house is now messy again and I’m now nearing as ‘normal’ as I get and back at the writing. And the job-hunting. And the sneezing.

I’m desperate to finish the novel so that I can start it again – to make the bitch bitchier, the quirks quirkier, the sads more sobworthy. The prospect of editing and re-writing excites me, appeals to my neurotic, nit-picking nature.

Impressed with Helen’s methodical post-it perfection, I thought I would share my very own cork board craziness. I like to consider it a fair representation of my mind’s inner workings: I have no idea what’s happening from one chapter to the next (in fact, I haven’t even got chapters yet!) but I have pictures of my characters’ houses and the bracelets they like to wear.

It’s a worry, quite frankly. This writing lark has driven me quite daffy and I fear I shall never be the same again. Thank goodness for that, eh?

 


Of Grumpification October 4, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 21 comments

Grrrrrr. Grumble, grumble, grumble. The job application machine is growling into action which means I have around four weeks to finish my novel. Four weeks is fine. It’s achievable. Well, it would be. On Monday and Tuesday this week, I spent all day watching back-to-back episodes of Spongebob Squarepants. Number 2 Son was sort of sick. Not proper poorly, just moany and irritating. Sigh.

Today and, miserably, tomorrow both beasties are off – the school has open evenings and they clearly don’t want the pupils there making a mess or putting potential parents off.

I am going to hide in bed until I’ve written some words. All I need is the coffee fairy – a plentiful supply of decaf café crème and some almond cake. That’s not much to ask, is it?

No, it’s no good. I can hear them. Hear them Having Fun and Laughing. I cannot concentrate. I feel an uncontrollable urge to get up from my warm pit, to rummage through the emergency/disaster cupboard for bandages to bandage up their mouths.

Sigh. Childline probably frowns upon such behaviour. Boring buggers. I shall, instead, plug myself in to yumptious Newton Faulkner. I won’t be playing this song though. I wouldn’t click on it either, if I were you. It will infiltrate your brain and make you peculiar for the whole day. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…