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Marvellous meme (possible procrastination) June 28, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 23 comments

Yay, I’ve been tagged by JJ and Karen and, since I’m so boring in the week, have been saving it for a Saturday to be boring.

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Living in Jersey, kids aged 4 and nearly 2. Probably tearing my hair out. Worked very briefly as a school secretary in the most deprived catchment area on the rock (yes, there are people in Jersey who have no money and/or take drugs just like non-tax havens). Went home and cried for half the kids and decided having my own tiddlie crying for me while I was out earning a few pennies wasn’t worth it. Watched Tellytubbies instead which made me who I am today. I knew there was something to blame for it.

Five things on your to-do list for today:
Go into Tunbridge Wells for pampering goodies and lazy M&S food.
Go for run to earn vino & lazy food calories.
Zoom through remaining photography coursework and panic that deadline for end-of-course portfolio is Tuesday week.
Start freewriting again. Even 15 mins a day would make a difference.
Plough through remaining third of The Novel and make notes ready for morning of re-writing tomorrow.

What are three of your bad habits?
Repeating myself like a daffy old dear
Pulling my hair when I’m tired or stressed
Repeating myself like a daffy old dear

What would you do if you were a billionaire?
Buy a house somewhere near where I live already… nothing flashy. Something like this perhaps. A round kitchen and round library would be coolio. And a house in France, around the La Rochelle area because I love their diddy airport. Buy a house in Jersey for Mum (great investment too - the house, not my mother) and give a bit to those I love who would make the most of it. And I’d write and take photographs and open a little gallery so that talented people who haven’t got money/contacts/the opportunity to go to college could have a chance.

What are some snacks you enjoy?
Wine. That’s a snack, right?
Green & Blacks Butterscotch Chocolate
Tyrells salt and vinegar crisps

What were the last five books you read?
Words from a Glass Bubble by Vanessa Gebbie (dipping in and out. Too good for half asleep reading)
Your’re Not the Only One (did I mention that I’m in this?)
Teenagers - What Every Parent Has to Know by Rob Parsons
The Book of Digital Photography by Chris George
The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs (haven’t decided whether I’m gong to get into this or not. Four sentences a night before I nod off doesn’t help)

What are five jobs you have had?
Chamber maid at hotel for disabled in Jersey. How many wet beds did I change as a 16-year-old?
Dental nurse (top line: “you might feel a bit of a prick”)
Robot type person at merchant bank in Jersey. Boring as anything. Abandoned good job with money to be
Director’s Assistant at Jersey Arts Centre - pretty cool until I got sacked for being pregnant
PA/Secretary type person at chickens/llamas/rural wotsit (current)

Five places that you have lived?
Jersey
Norf of Engerland (too young to remember and no remnant accent)
Jersey again (am a bit boring really)
Crouch End in North London (known as Couch End as full of psychotherapists)
Jersey again (a pattern? You think so?)
Teeny tiny village in East Sussex which I love and where I will stay until I run away to France (when I am a billionaire and respected writer and also not too bad at taking photos)

Who hasn’t done this then? Hullaballooooo? Jumbly? Nez?

Right… it’s nearly lunchtime. Shopping done. Rest of list to tackle. Luckily I didn’t write down any domestic duties so I won’t be able to do those now. The Power of The List cannot be ignored.


Go go go GO! June 24, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Photos , 26 comments

I went to The London on Saturday to see the Queen. Sadly, she was out at her weekly darts match. Shame really, I’ve heard she has Rich Tea and everything.

Luckily, all was not lost. We had tickets to see Joseph and plans for a pre-theatre grub-up at a carefully selected but unbooked restaurant. I was a little bit excited. I absolutely love going into London; despite it only being an hour or so away on the choo-choo, it’s a million miles from this sleepy village and the workplace chickens and agricultural oddities which make up my life.

Now, I am not very organised. I was also sadly born without any sense of direction whatsoever. Luckily, lovely bf has grandiose ideas now and again of being a Proper Man and Looks at Things on Maps.

We marched about for an hour or so, him looking at The Map and me randomly stopping to exercise my camera and making people tut.

Love bf started to grumble. ‘It’ll be closed down by the time we get there,’ he growled.

Hmmm.

I know I’m a sap for those telly programmes that can turn you into a West End star, celebrity chef or brain surgeon in 10 weeks. But when Lee Mead floated majestically onto the stage, I couldn’t help but cry. Look at me, I’m living my dream, his smile beamed. Tears burst out of my eyes even now, just thinking about it.

Writing is my dream. In France, with just enough money for food, books and wine without worrying.  It’s good to have something to strive for, no matter what it is or how impossible it seems. Any Dream Will Do, as Andrew Lloyd Wurlitzer would say. I guess it’s time to pull my finger out. Still miffed about the Queen’s biscuits though. Don’t worry, by the way. I’m not going to start boring you to death with photos (much).

So what’s your dream? Your real ‘if I had one wish’ dream? I’ve been Thinking Things and feel something fascinating happening. I’m intrigued to know what you think you would really change your life and make it perfect for you. You can leave a comment anonymously. I feel a project coming on…

Of Determined Non-Dithering June 19, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 29 comments

Now then, now then, she said in the style of Jimmy Savile. Jangle jangle, etc. I’ve been Thinking. Yes, yes, alert the media.

You see, around three years ago, I had a different life to the one I have now. I didn’t live in a cul de sac. I lived in a nice house that I owned with a bridge and a river. I had all day to myself and went running, did yoga, flounced about in clothes from Jigsaw and generally had a very nice time.

But I wasn’t happy. I took a few packets of St John’s Wort and drank quite a lot of Merlot. I chuntered on (isn’t ‘chuntered’ a good word? It really does what it says on the tin.) about having to separate the strands of my life to see which bits were wrong because I really didn’t know. And no one else had the foggiest what I was talking about and just thought I was a miserable cow. And then, everything else crashed around me. It happens that way – the Universe likes to get its laughs where it can.

But I’d started writing. Hallelujah. I was saved by the power of the pen. Ugh, not really, I just thought I’d see if I could make you vomit. I have to get my fun where I can too. If it’s good enough for the Universe, it’s good enough for me.

But, actually, it’s sort of true. I’d always told people ‘I like to write’ though never actually wrote anything except lists of things that I might have forgotten due to aforementioned gulping of Merlot. I need to be creative, to write, to photographise things. Being creative from time to time also means I can make better use of the misery I secretly quite like. Can’t go round be jolly all the time, that really would be puke-inducing.

But I haven’t written anything for months; between the coursework, full time job and very slow editing of The Novel (now called Still Life I think - apt, too, given the speed I’m going) I can feel those feelings of dissatisfaction bubbling up again. But amongst those bubbles were a head-poppingly good idea that draws together the bits of The Novel together that were stranded. And like my own strands of life a few years back, just that one thing has made all the difference. Means a massive re-write before the August RNA critique deadline but hey ho.

So. There you go. Blimey, that was a bit boring, wasn’t it?

I’ll summarise, in case you nodded off. Have Had Idea. Will re-write or die. Will also write more new stuff before I go funny.

Will try to figure out why I woke up with the Jim’ll Fix It theme tune in my head and secretly hope that you, dear reader, will end up humming it too. Mwah ha ha, the power of brain bamboozlement is mine.

War Child - and a lack of alliteration (almost) June 9, 2008

Posted by Jen in : War Child, Writing Bits , 29 comments

War Child is an international charity that works with children affected by war in Afghanistan, Iraq, Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda. They work with former child soldiers, children in prison and children living and working on the streets to give them support, protection and opportunities.

Every minute of every day, three children die as a result of war. That’s quite a lot, even if you can’t do maths. Children, fighting. Dying. Children just like ours.

What can you do? You can help raise the funds they desperately need. You can buy a book, here, where half the cost (or 10 Great British pounds if you buy the download) will go direct to War Child. You’ll be Doing Good and you also get an ace book to read.

You’re Not the Only One is a collection of previously unpublished intimate and personal stories from bloggers all over the world, reflecting the camaraderie of blogging and promoting great writing.

You even get to read a major misery-fest by me. But there are pieces by all sorts of fab and groovy writers so don’t let that put you off. (I’m in a book! I’m in a book! Oh dear, sorry about that.)

Peach has tackled a mountain of a job and produced something warm and worthwhile. Not only that, but it’s boosted my confidence when everything I had was sagging. I’m in a book! Wow! Maybe I really can write.

So what are you waiting for? Get your credit card out.  Click HERE. Oh go on, it might make you feel nice.

Of Reluctant Realisation June 4, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Journal , 25 comments

Awake at the crack of dawn as usual, I lay in bed listening to the Jurassic squeaks of the baby swallows in their mud huts outside the window. 5am and my mind lurched into action: had I remembered to edit the photos for work? Did I have anything clean to wear? Had No 2 Son emptied his lunchbox? Should I do photography coursework, edit the novel or actually do some writing before I clamber into my parachute harness of a bra and go for a run?

Ok. I admit it. I’m really tired. I know, I know. When you’re really passionate about something, there’s always time to fit it into your day. But what happens when you’re passionate about everything?

I don’t want to go to work today. It’s not that I don’t like my job; the work is interesting, I’m never bored, I get on great with the four other people in the office. It’s good. Really.

But I don’t want that to be my life. I can feel all my creative impulses slowly being tap-tap-tapped out of my soul. I miss writing; I want to pack up a bag and head down to Bexhill and take stark black and white photos of the pavilion or flounce around Brighton, searching for inspiration amongst the oddly pierced people in the twisting lanes, writing in coffee shops as salt and vinegar drifts into the sea air. But I’m not doing anything of those things.

And now I’ve wasted an hour of my life just sitting here, thinking that I can’t, just can’t, do everything. I haven’t studied or written or edited because it just all seems so hopeless.

I think I might need to have a little cry now. Best to get it over with early, don’t you think?