Almost August (and Associated Angst) July 31, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Journal, Novel , 35 commentsCor blimey. Another month drawing to a close already? In this stamp-sized square of Sussex, it’s oh-so-quiet. My gruesome twosome are away in Barcelona for two weeks and, as each day passes, I miss them a little more.
Lovely bf displays his repertoire of eye-rolling and sighing as reality slips past me unnoticed and I start thinking of my babies as adorable, apple-cheeked Victorian children, huddled round the Aga with flour on their noses waiting for our homebaked goodies to cook. After five days away, they are no longer stinking grunting beasts at all.
In other news, instead of homebaked goodies, I have been devouring Sol Stein’s Solutions for Writers. Of course, with the RNA New Writers Scheme thingummy looming in just under four weeks, I’m wondering why I didn’t read this sooner. The more I learn, the more I realise I don’t know. And I’ve stopped being all parental about The Novel. I can already see which bits are crap. Sadly, it’s most of the bits. The Novel is my child, being sent out into the world for the first time. It won’t be admired or loved. Not only is it the pasty kid who whines, it has greasy hair, sticky-out ears and picks its nose in public. I may just be a little embarrassed about it. How to turn it, in four weeks, into a rosy-cheeked Eton candidate with a spiffing hairdo?
In jolly news, the latest diet is going very well, thank you for asking. I have lost almost a stone which means my fat clothes trail along forlornly behind me, rather giving me the look of Dawn French’s trailer trash sister. I am having to sneak into work in jeans every day. It’s that or my pyjamas. Luckily, lovely as he is, I doubt my boss would notice if I went to work dressed as a pantomime horse so long as I do the work and try not to talk too much.
So. Let’s sum up shall we? Is all v quiet with only delusions of having nice children to keep me sane. Have gone off The Novel which used up a year of my pitiful existence to write. Resemble a noisy jumble sale.
Is this the life I ordered? No, I think you will find it is not.
