Of Splendid Serendipity (and Sprawled Out at Square One) January 9, 2010
Posted by Jen in : Bit of a Mid-Life Crisis, Journal, Novel , 23 commentsWell then. Did I mention that Novel 2 will be jigging about in the little-known genre of Philosophical Comedy? The only laugh so far is that, as you will see (eyes right, if you please) the word count is now back to zero. But that’s ok. Until this morning, I had the setting, some dizzy but delectable dialogue and a handful of charming characters. Sadly, the characters were all wandering about with torches strapped to their heads in search of the missing plot. If editing means killing your darlings, I’ve just beheaded all mine and stuck ‘em out in the snow to decompose slowly but gruesomely.
Bizarrely, as I read an early email today from An Unassuming Artist which mentioned Scott’s Antarctic adventures, I clicked on a song in iTunes that I’d never heard before. I’ve no idea where it even came from. The song is now adopted as the theme song for when the novel becomes a film. Here you go… a song about Columbus and following your dreams… it’s pretty much what the novel’s about. I think. Er… sort of. Fictional adventures will be better than the real ones I’m currently craving. Plus I won’t have to go outside ever again. Anyway, the song has inspired me. So there.
In other serendipitous news, one of my New Year resolutions, since you were probably wondering, is to spend less money on food. Ok, we do like to eat well and love our treats and I do have two teens but, between the three of us, we’re munching through one hundred and fifty Great British pounds a week. I mentioned the new economy drive to Son 1.
‘I’m assuming there’ll be less buying of wine,’ he replied, employing the use of sardonic eyebrow positioning. Bloody sod.
The weather, however, has meant that we’ve had to exist for a week now on what we already had in store. There has been no M&S indulgency. Instead, I’ve thanked my lucky stars that I bought a whole lamb from my lovely boss last year which went from farm to my freezer in less than a day. I felt like a proper hardcore country girl that day, I tell you. I won’t confess of course that I *had* to check with him that it would be ‘chopped up’. I had visions of it crammed into the chest freezer like a stuffed toy, its legs poking out and its gentle eyes staring up at me in surprise. Instead of giving the dog the remains of a leg of lamb, I’m positively yearning for Leftover Lamb Biryani. Balti paste has changed my life forever. Who knew?
The barmy weather has also hooked me out of routine. I read in one of my hippy books, several years ago, that it’s important not to do the same things in the same way every day. If you have to take the same dog-walking route, walk it from finish to start instead. It’s amazing how different the world looks the other way round. Seriously, you should try it.
Right then. Back to the novel writing. Buying a camper van for storyline research purposes and inadvertent adventures? No, I’m not even thinking about that. Honest. Not much, anyway. Ahem.
Of Nurtured New Year (or Sappy Sentimentality) January 1, 2010
Posted by Jen in : Journal , 26 commentsI meant to write a blog post yesterday. You know the sort of thing: looking back on not just the past year, but the decade. A quarter of my life so far. Crumbs.
‘What happened to the blog post?’ I was asked last night.
‘Oh, I’ll just write it tomorrow instead,’ I replied, in a carefree Bucks Fizz kinda way. The cocktail, I mean. Not a Eurovision ripping-flimsy-skirts-off kinda way. ‘It’ll just be a different post, looking forward, not back.’
Ten years ago, I don’t think it occurred to me to look forward. I slept through midnight fireworks and began the new millennium walking along Jersey’s St Catherine’s breakwater as dawn broke, the lights in French houses flickering on behind somnolent fishing boats off the coast way, way in the distance. I remember thinking that there was another world, going on without me but that was fine. I looked at my husband; my two children, one excited and the other strapped into a buggy. I thought about that past year and about cooking a huge, extravagant roast later that day. And that was it. It never occurred to me for one moment that ten years on, I’d be living alone in a Sussex village with two teenagers. In fact, No. 2 son turned 16 last week. He’s a proper man, bursting with insatiable appetites for food and life and with a decent dose of sarcasm. Oh yes, I’ve trained him well. But I honestly never thought my life would be like this.
I didn’t know I’d see 2010 in with fireworks scattering over distant Brighton as I stood quietly at midnight with An Unassuming Artist. I never knew that a huge blue moon would hang obstinately in an opaque sky whiled I sipped early New Year tea. There are lots of things I didn’t know then. But now that I’m looking forward, I realise that I have no idea what will happen over the next decade. I like the way it’s started though. As I took down the 2009 calendar and hung up the new one I wondered… come the start of the next decade, how many of the amazing things in my life then will have begun in 2009? I’ve met wonderful people; made amazing new friends, dreamt new dreams and let new people into my heart. I’ve also rekindled love for the ‘old’ people in my life, which I didn’t expect. I’ve no idea how any of those things will pan out but I do know that I’ll always look back on 2009 with great joy. It just couldn’t quite make its mind up, though, could it?
I won’t bore you with my resolutions. I’m sure you know what they are. But I’m smiling and sending out those smiles bigly to you. There will be stories aplenty this year, that’s all I will say on the matter. Oh, yes indeed. In another 10 years, I’ll be 50. It’s time to get on with it now. All of it.
If I could have one wish, it would be that we all find, in 2010, the beginning of our individual Happily Ever Afters.
