Of Happy Hippiness March 11, 2009
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 27 commentsI was tagged a while ago to do a meme; to tell you a list of secrets about myself. The thing is, I haven’t really got any secrets – not because I’m particularly virtuous but simply because I can never never remember what any of them are. So there’s sort of no point, is there? Let’s see, shall we?
‘She cast her eyes down, a slight smile teasing her lips as a blush crept across her cheek. It was clear to anyone that she was a girl with a secret, or would be if only she had the presence of mind to actually hold onto a thought for more than 17 seconds…’
No, it’s a bit lacking, isn’t it? But one thing I generally don’t tell people is that I’m something of a closet hippy. No, I don’t mean that all the clothes in my closet (Good Lord, I’m turning into an American!) are made from hemp and dyed with the leaves of organic nettles. But, well, I do have some funny beliefs.
Some time ago, before I counted cows and typed things about bits of grass for a living, I worked as a Reiki healer. I’d spend ages sniffing oils and choosing just the right whale music and lighting candles and smiling serenely. As a job, though, it was hopeless as I couldn’t bear to actually charge anyone. I was also rubbish at sending them home after their appointment and would end up listening for hours to their emotional outpourings and cooking them lunch.
As the torments of real life took over, I got a proper job: the levitating, meditating and tofu sarnies had to stop. But I still have some funny beliefs. One of these is that I really, truly, deeply believe that if I see a deer, something really brilliant will happen. A portent, you know? Yesterday, in the woods, there was much rustling. ‘A deer!’ I squeaked, in a silent, only-in-my-head-in-case-anyone-hears-me sort of way. And I decided I would tell you about my weird hippy belief. And I wondered what yesterday’s deer meant, what it signaled. But I did not see the deer. And I decided that a rustling of leaves could not be considered a portent of amazingness and I wouldn’t tell you about it after all. But it was a deer and d’you know how I know? Because I saw it today. It stood on the path and looked right at me. But I can’t tell you what the amazing thing that will happen is… Not because it’s a secret, but because I don’t know yet.
Is it just me? Or do other people hold these beliefs? Do you have a ‘sign’, a ‘special something’ that signals good or bad? You can tell me… I’m great at keeping secrets…
Edited to add: Two ducks just shouted at me! QUAAAAAACK! Just like that, as they flew over my head. ‘What is it’?’ I asked (but only in my head just in case etc) ‘What is the Special Something?’ And you know what? They didn’t tell me…
Of Pesky Pasts and Dithery Dipsticks February 27, 2009
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 27 commentsOh dear. Oh my goodness. The last working day of February? Surely not.
Let’s see then, shall we, how I’m getting on with the old resolutions? Oh, hang on a minute. Let’s not.
I declined a naughty cake at work last week, on the basis that I was to become svelte by my 40th birthday.
‘And when is that?’ asked tweed-clad colleague, looking me up and down.
‘May,’ I declared, holding in my tummy a little bit.
He nodded slowly and wisely before pronouncing his judgment.  ‘You should’ve started earlier.’
Hmmm.
Life, being serendipitous thing it is, has flung History back at me. A huge seam of life that I’d thought gone forever suddenly is washing over me. Good old Facebook. With one tentative link, I’ve been swept away by what-ifs and couldda-beens and, oddly, I can remember almost every single person, despite not having seen many of them since I was 14. Jersey has a weird education system: there’s one sort of grammar school and, just before ‘O’ levels (as they were in my day), the top whatever % is creamed from all the schools in the whole island and dispatched to this boffin-bin. I was sent there, but I wasn’t a boffin. Being a bit of a div, it was all a little beyond me really. But it did mean that the other, bigger % left behind hated, HATED, us. And so we didn’t mix. Ever. Until now. There’s to be a reunion. The word sends fear to my very core.
August. I will be 40 and facing my past. And halfway through writing a novel about identity and how life changes us. Or not, as the case may be. And you know the worst thing? I’ll really have to diet now… especially as the girl who used to call me Poison Dwarf is still pretty and slim, the bloody cow.  Oh, woe is me.
Of Perpetual Pimping January 16, 2009
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 25 commentsI would be most grateful indeed if someone could enlighten me as to how it can possibly be mid-January already. Christmas is long gone and the year’s well and truly off its starting blocks. Me? Well, I seem to have accomplished bugger all so far.
Ok, so I’m still fiddling about with Inspiral Daze which has rather bizarrely led me to wandering about in the pre-dawn dark with my camera and a jar of marmalade. But I’m enjoying obsessing about it, enjoying having something ticking in my Brian whilst the ordinariness of ‘real life’ carries on without me. I have also written the Coffee Morning post for the jolly marvelous Novel Racers which is tricky when others have written such good and proper writerly posts. Me? I’ve ended up rambling on about shapely scenes and how my next novel will be shaped like Diana Dors. Marmalade and Diana Dors. Yes, I think that just about sums up my creative achievement so far this year.
But. When the image of Diana Dors popped into my head, I thought I should link to her, for the young ‘uns who may not remember her. And foreign people. Oh God, are we still allowed to say ‘foreign’? I do lose track of what’s acceptable. Anyway. I read about her here on Wikipedia. What a fascinating life; you couldn’t make it up. And it has given me an idea for the next novel; an obsession for one of my lead characters.
So there you are. Marmalade, starlets and An Idea. That’s not bad for mid-January after all, is it?
Marvellous meme (possible procrastination) June 28, 2008
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 23 commentsYay, 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.
War Child – and a lack of alliteration (almost) June 9, 2008
Posted by Jen in : War Child, Writing Bits , 29 commentsWar 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.
Trying to be Normal March 12, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 19 commentsOh, balls. In fact, if you’ll indulge and excuse me, balls and buggeration. Aaarrghh! Double Arrrghhh! AAARRGHHHH!
Fed up with my job, I am. I do a good job. Despite evidence to the contrary (i.e. all previous posts) I am an intelligent person. I compose kick-arse letters to reclaim money from bastard customers who come into the store, buy a barrow-load of designer gear with a cheque which they promptly stop before closing their account. I co-ordinate the training of 200+ staff. I sort out everyone’s problems. I keep everyone happy. I somehow convince people that Retail Hell is a fantastic place to work. I do all this for £6.00 an hour. I am clearly mental.
So. Tomorrow, or today if you’re reading this tomorrow (oh, are you trying to complicate things?) I am going to Interviews. I am going to pretend to be normal. This is, as you can imagine, quite a strain. I loathe interviews.
Scary Interviewer-type scary person: Can you type very fast?
Spazzy Me: Oh, yes. I am very marvelous indeed. Apart from my bunch of fat sausage-like fingers which cannot type at all at this moment in time. Really, I am much less sausage-like on a Wednesday.
Scary, standing-up-type person: Do you often fall over?
On-the-floor me: No, I am quite often upright. When I have fooled you into thinking that I am normal, I will not wear high heels and contact lenses and try to look intelligent all at the same time.
Oh, fuck-a-duck. Wish me luck.
I Am Truly Tragic February 13, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 5 commentsIs it just me?
I mean, I know I should get out more and all that. But, well, I just think this is the funniest thing I’ve seen for ages? Oh go on, tell me it’s not just me…
Pass the pen-thils someone. Woo!
I Am Free February 12, 2007
Posted by Jen in : Writing Bits , 4 commentsMy windscreen-wipers are cured! Hurrah and hurray! And I am cured, for free. I quote:
Feeble Me: ‘Oh, is my poor car really working properly again?’
Grunting Mechanic: ‘Ugh, yeah.’
Effusive Me: ‘Oh, you are such a star – I thought I would have to stay in until summer.’
Grunting Mechanic: ‘Ugh.’ (Smiled a bit at this point. Could have been wind though.)
Penniless Me: ‘Oh, in all the stress, I forgot my purse. Could you possibly add it on to its next service?’
Weak Mechanic: ‘Ugh. Don’t worry. Few quid. Drink in pub. Ugh.’
Result. Joy. Freedom. I am free. Free to… um… yeah. Whatever.