Hello everyone,
I am now going with the flow like a dead fish instead of trying to fight my way upstream; and so much has changed.
I used to fight to stay in control, keep my head above water, never upset anyone, always trying to do and be the best, but no anymore. I'm tired of fighting.
I'm not entirely sure when this happened, I think it was a gradual process, one I didn't even see coming. I've finally let go of the reins, life and all the crap it brings with it just washes over me now. There's trouble at work, staff are always bitching, back stabbing and trying to get other staff in trouble, relishing the drama and bad feelings this can cause. Certain people seem to thrive in this kind of atmosphere.
It used to worry me....a lot; wondering when I would be dragged into it or when it would be my turn, but not anymore. I'm not sure why or how this happened. I remember listening to the bullshit that was doing the rounds one day and thinking, why are people so nasty? This is all crap, obvious lies and yet, these people are lapping it up and even adding to it with more lies, since that day I have distanced myself from most people; especially at work.
I feel a lot better, it's as if I'm not a part of it anymore, I just observe, almost as if I'm invisible.
My writing flows better now the stress passes through me, I take nothing on board. In a few months I'm moving to the south coast, I been working hard and saving as much as I can and now I have enough for a deposit on a two bed house, I just need to save a bit more for the referencing fees.
I've always wanted to live by the sea and now I'm going to make it happen. I've written several short stories, who knows, one day I might send them out into the world; they were fun to write and I enjoyed the process. My head feels clear for the first time in years; it's like finally being able to breathe after a heavy cold.
I guess I've finally got the I DON'T CARE ATTITUDE and I love it.
I feel as if I have so much to look forward to, new beginnings, new hope and no baggage.
Until next time, keep writing, and let life's troubles wash over you.
Saturday, 19 May 2018
Monday, 12 March 2018
When The Fun Stops . . . .STOP
Hi Everyone,
I saw an advertisement on television the other day about gambling awareness and it hit me hard, not because I gamble, (I can't afford to) but because I write.
I have loved writing all my life and because I am striving to get published, all the fun has gone out of it. I don't even enjoy it anymore, the whole process has lost its spark. I have been concentrating so hard on getting every last detail perfect for a prospective publisher, that I literally lost the plot.
I became obsessed with getting published; it was everything. If I couldn't get published then I was obviously no good at writing, so I might as well throw in the towel, then I saw the advert.
I took a long hard look at my writing goals and projects and thought, does it really matter if I don't get published? So what if I'm not successful; I'm obviously not good enough to be published, but I'm good enough for me.
So I've put all ideas of success and being a published author out of my head, I'm only making myself miserable chasing something that's clearly out of reach. The book I've been working on has been thrown into the archive storage; maybe I'll look at it again one day, maybe I won't. Who cares? Not me, not anymore.
I wrote a short story over the weekend. It wasn't perfect, there were obvious mistakes and a bit of dodgy spelling and punctuation, but I had fun writing it; the spark of enjoyment was igniting again and when I read it back, it was good, my heart had gone into it instead of my head. It had passion and genuine feeling. It will never go anywhere; it's meant for my eyes only.
I maybe a crap writer with no chance of ever being published, but I love to write and that's what I'll continue to do. Life's not about being rich, famous and recognised, it's for living and being happy, doing the things you enjoy and that's good enough for me.
Until next time
Follow your dreams, chase your desires . . . but only if it makes you happy.
I saw an advertisement on television the other day about gambling awareness and it hit me hard, not because I gamble, (I can't afford to) but because I write.
I have loved writing all my life and because I am striving to get published, all the fun has gone out of it. I don't even enjoy it anymore, the whole process has lost its spark. I have been concentrating so hard on getting every last detail perfect for a prospective publisher, that I literally lost the plot.
I became obsessed with getting published; it was everything. If I couldn't get published then I was obviously no good at writing, so I might as well throw in the towel, then I saw the advert.
I took a long hard look at my writing goals and projects and thought, does it really matter if I don't get published? So what if I'm not successful; I'm obviously not good enough to be published, but I'm good enough for me.
So I've put all ideas of success and being a published author out of my head, I'm only making myself miserable chasing something that's clearly out of reach. The book I've been working on has been thrown into the archive storage; maybe I'll look at it again one day, maybe I won't. Who cares? Not me, not anymore.
I wrote a short story over the weekend. It wasn't perfect, there were obvious mistakes and a bit of dodgy spelling and punctuation, but I had fun writing it; the spark of enjoyment was igniting again and when I read it back, it was good, my heart had gone into it instead of my head. It had passion and genuine feeling. It will never go anywhere; it's meant for my eyes only.
I maybe a crap writer with no chance of ever being published, but I love to write and that's what I'll continue to do. Life's not about being rich, famous and recognised, it's for living and being happy, doing the things you enjoy and that's good enough for me.
Until next time
Follow your dreams, chase your desires . . . but only if it makes you happy.
Saturday, 13 January 2018
THE PROMISE; personal demons
Hello everyone
I think I have just realised why my life is so miserable; I'm being punished.
When I was 11, I made a promise to my dad, I kept that promise for over 30 years but 14 years ago because of my own selfishness, I broke it and nothing in my life has gone right since.
My dad was dying, he knew it, we knew it. There was only the three of us, mum, dad and me. One day he called me into the bedroom and made me promise that after he had gone I would look after my mum and never leave her (that was her biggest fear; being left alone) At 11 years old I happily made the promise; three months later he died.
I grew up, had boyfriends, got married, had three gorgeous kids and we all lived happily in my mums house; for a while. Things went bad as they so often do when your that young, I was 19. My husband wanted to move away which was perfectly reasonable until I remembered the promise. In the end we split up and went our separate ways, other issues were involved but that was at the back of it. He moved out while me and the kids continued to stay with my mum.
All was fine until 14 years ago when I met a man. The kids were grown up and had kids of their own, mum was getting on in years but still active and healthy, so I did the unthinkable, I moved out. Mum was never the same after that; she still spoke to me, but her tone was different; I'd broken her heart, she knew about the promise, obviously dad had told her. She reminded me one day, just casually saying, 'you said you'd never leave.'
She even took me back after the relationship ended, let me come home, but things were never the same; a couple of years later she passed too. Her landlord wanted me out of the house so me and my son had to leave. I got a flat that was attached to my job but when I got made redundant that went too, I now have this tiny one bed flat after seven months of sleeping in the car but since leaving my mums nowhere feels like home.
I've looked up various things about breaking a promise and all of them say there is ALWAYS a price to pay. As far as I'm concerned I will never be out of debt; I made that promise and I broke it, it took over 30 years but I still broke it and nothing I do will change that.
until next time; think before you make a promise.
I think I have just realised why my life is so miserable; I'm being punished.
When I was 11, I made a promise to my dad, I kept that promise for over 30 years but 14 years ago because of my own selfishness, I broke it and nothing in my life has gone right since.
My dad was dying, he knew it, we knew it. There was only the three of us, mum, dad and me. One day he called me into the bedroom and made me promise that after he had gone I would look after my mum and never leave her (that was her biggest fear; being left alone) At 11 years old I happily made the promise; three months later he died.
I grew up, had boyfriends, got married, had three gorgeous kids and we all lived happily in my mums house; for a while. Things went bad as they so often do when your that young, I was 19. My husband wanted to move away which was perfectly reasonable until I remembered the promise. In the end we split up and went our separate ways, other issues were involved but that was at the back of it. He moved out while me and the kids continued to stay with my mum.
All was fine until 14 years ago when I met a man. The kids were grown up and had kids of their own, mum was getting on in years but still active and healthy, so I did the unthinkable, I moved out. Mum was never the same after that; she still spoke to me, but her tone was different; I'd broken her heart, she knew about the promise, obviously dad had told her. She reminded me one day, just casually saying, 'you said you'd never leave.'
She even took me back after the relationship ended, let me come home, but things were never the same; a couple of years later she passed too. Her landlord wanted me out of the house so me and my son had to leave. I got a flat that was attached to my job but when I got made redundant that went too, I now have this tiny one bed flat after seven months of sleeping in the car but since leaving my mums nowhere feels like home.
I've looked up various things about breaking a promise and all of them say there is ALWAYS a price to pay. As far as I'm concerned I will never be out of debt; I made that promise and I broke it, it took over 30 years but I still broke it and nothing I do will change that.
until next time; think before you make a promise.
Sunday, 26 November 2017
Day 18,983
Hello everyone
I know it's been a long time, but with rising rent, strange letters to my landlord popping through my letterbox from different banks and a constant supply of bills, I've had to take on another job.
I'm sure there is something wrong. The letters are marked as confidential and to be opened immediately, they look very official. So I have to take them to the estate agent and let them deal with them. I am now worried in case the landlord decides to sell the flat or something else happens which forces me out.
The new job is only part time, just two hours a night five nights a week, which means I usually go straight from my fulltime one onto the new one, which means I'm working 60 plus hours a week again and still only just scraping by and leaves very little time for writing. I start work at eight in the morning and finish at eight or nine in the evening and by then I'm knackered.
I do manage to write a little at weekends, but again only in the evening after six when I finish my day job and as I work seven days a week, it doesn't leave much time.
I re-read some of my novel the other day and must admit, it's lame; a bit too tame. First mistake. I was so eager to get it out into the world when I'd finished it, that I ignored a basic rule, when it's done put it away for a good few months and ignore it before taking it out and re-reading it.
I'm not surprised it was rejected; it does read well and there were no mistakes but it just needs a damn good kick up the arse. So for now I'm giving up on the novels and turning my attention to short stories for competitions, with feedback.
The title of this piece may seem a little odd, but give or take a few leap years 18,983 days, is roughly how long I've been alive and barring a handful, most of them have been crap and they're still not getting any better. It doesn't seem to matter how long or hard I work, or what I do, nothing ever changes.
I'm working myself to death at the moment, not only to pay bills, rent, etc, but to try and save enough for a deposit on a two bed place. My poor son is still sleeping on the floor, he isn't working due to his bad feet and has no money. He needs his own room, a place to call his own and by whatever means, I will supply it.
As for me, I'm still breathing and still writing, whenever I get the chance. I hope everyone is having a more productive time, good luck with all your writing projects, until next time; all we can do is keep going.
I know it's been a long time, but with rising rent, strange letters to my landlord popping through my letterbox from different banks and a constant supply of bills, I've had to take on another job.
I'm sure there is something wrong. The letters are marked as confidential and to be opened immediately, they look very official. So I have to take them to the estate agent and let them deal with them. I am now worried in case the landlord decides to sell the flat or something else happens which forces me out.
The new job is only part time, just two hours a night five nights a week, which means I usually go straight from my fulltime one onto the new one, which means I'm working 60 plus hours a week again and still only just scraping by and leaves very little time for writing. I start work at eight in the morning and finish at eight or nine in the evening and by then I'm knackered.
I do manage to write a little at weekends, but again only in the evening after six when I finish my day job and as I work seven days a week, it doesn't leave much time.
I re-read some of my novel the other day and must admit, it's lame; a bit too tame. First mistake. I was so eager to get it out into the world when I'd finished it, that I ignored a basic rule, when it's done put it away for a good few months and ignore it before taking it out and re-reading it.
I'm not surprised it was rejected; it does read well and there were no mistakes but it just needs a damn good kick up the arse. So for now I'm giving up on the novels and turning my attention to short stories for competitions, with feedback.
The title of this piece may seem a little odd, but give or take a few leap years 18,983 days, is roughly how long I've been alive and barring a handful, most of them have been crap and they're still not getting any better. It doesn't seem to matter how long or hard I work, or what I do, nothing ever changes.
I'm working myself to death at the moment, not only to pay bills, rent, etc, but to try and save enough for a deposit on a two bed place. My poor son is still sleeping on the floor, he isn't working due to his bad feet and has no money. He needs his own room, a place to call his own and by whatever means, I will supply it.
As for me, I'm still breathing and still writing, whenever I get the chance. I hope everyone is having a more productive time, good luck with all your writing projects, until next time; all we can do is keep going.
Friday, 8 September 2017
Defeated, Beaten, Loser.
Hello everyone,
Yes that's me and how I feel.
My novel has been out by itself in the big, wide world and has received nothing, not even a glimmer of acknowledgement other than the automated , 'yes we got it,' email,
I have exhausted every publisher in this country that is willing to look at unsolicited MSS and I've got nowhere. I was considering sending it to other countries but don't really see the point, (maybe one day.)
I am halfway through my second novel, but am beginning to feel that it too will be a waste of time, as I am sure it will just sit on my laptop taking up space
I have looked into self publishing, but don't have the money, they are all asking upwards of £1500 to £2000 and that's just for a basic package.
I feel as if I have wasted 40 years of my life on writing; don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed it, I love writing, I love the creative process of a written jigsaw, breathing life into characters, but as far as getting anything published, its been one disappointment after another. I've had some luck with short stories, but that was many moons ago.
I'm toying with the idea of entering writing competitions at the moment in various magazines. They all give cash prizes, some of them as much as £300 and the entry costs as little as £3 if you're a subscriber, (which I am for writing magazine)
All the stories are themed, so I don't get to chose my own subject, which is a shame, but I'm sure I can relate it to horror in some way. The other good magazine for competitions is Writer's Forum, their prizes are smaller but there is no theme.
Hopefully, next time I will have something happier to say.
Good luck to everyone who continues to write, swallow rejection, disappointment and misery.
Yes that's me and how I feel.
My novel has been out by itself in the big, wide world and has received nothing, not even a glimmer of acknowledgement other than the automated , 'yes we got it,' email,
I have exhausted every publisher in this country that is willing to look at unsolicited MSS and I've got nowhere. I was considering sending it to other countries but don't really see the point, (maybe one day.)
I am halfway through my second novel, but am beginning to feel that it too will be a waste of time, as I am sure it will just sit on my laptop taking up space
I have looked into self publishing, but don't have the money, they are all asking upwards of £1500 to £2000 and that's just for a basic package.
I feel as if I have wasted 40 years of my life on writing; don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed it, I love writing, I love the creative process of a written jigsaw, breathing life into characters, but as far as getting anything published, its been one disappointment after another. I've had some luck with short stories, but that was many moons ago.
I'm toying with the idea of entering writing competitions at the moment in various magazines. They all give cash prizes, some of them as much as £300 and the entry costs as little as £3 if you're a subscriber, (which I am for writing magazine)
All the stories are themed, so I don't get to chose my own subject, which is a shame, but I'm sure I can relate it to horror in some way. The other good magazine for competitions is Writer's Forum, their prizes are smaller but there is no theme.
Hopefully, next time I will have something happier to say.
Good luck to everyone who continues to write, swallow rejection, disappointment and misery.
Monday, 10 July 2017
A Short Story
THE HUNGER
The summer house remains, its origins a mystery now; a drifter through time, slipping between worlds, decayed and broken but never falling; a deadly visitor, the eater of children, the destroyer of lives.
Enticing the innocent into its shrouded domain, it waits with the promise of base camps and dens; places to play, secrets to share; an army camp on Monday, a dolls house on Wednesday. It waits silently for the curious to stumble upon.
It is always eager, desperate for the fresh, young souls, for it has a voracious appetite.
I played there once, lured in by its earthy scent and almost hidden location. I was a robber hiding out from the police and in the end, they found me, the officers with their sniffer dogs.
They say my body was unmarked. Slumped in the corner looking as if I'd fallen asleep and forgotten to wake up.
If only they knew the truth.
The sudden sense of isolation, the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. Its painted skin rippling with anticipation. Vibrations so subtle that only the hair on your arms can detect. The ancient wood, porous, thirsty, the very bones of the beast, sighing, breathing.
A chill in the air, almost imperceptible as it makes its move, siphoning your soul from its body, dredging the foundations of your mortality.
The damp wood beckons, you sit as tiredness overwhelms you, until the vessel that housed your being is empty, drained of its life force, you are dead.
The summer house remains, its origins a mystery now; a drifter through time, slipping between worlds, decayed and broken but never falling; a deadly visitor, the eater of children, the destroyer of lives.
Enticing the innocent into its shrouded domain, it waits with the promise of base camps and dens; places to play, secrets to share; an army camp on Monday, a dolls house on Wednesday. It waits silently for the curious to stumble upon.
It is always eager, desperate for the fresh, young souls, for it has a voracious appetite.
I played there once, lured in by its earthy scent and almost hidden location. I was a robber hiding out from the police and in the end, they found me, the officers with their sniffer dogs.
They say my body was unmarked. Slumped in the corner looking as if I'd fallen asleep and forgotten to wake up.
If only they knew the truth.
The sudden sense of isolation, the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. Its painted skin rippling with anticipation. Vibrations so subtle that only the hair on your arms can detect. The ancient wood, porous, thirsty, the very bones of the beast, sighing, breathing.
A chill in the air, almost imperceptible as it makes its move, siphoning your soul from its body, dredging the foundations of your mortality.
The damp wood beckons, you sit as tiredness overwhelms you, until the vessel that housed your being is empty, drained of its life force, you are dead.
Friday, 7 July 2017
Nothing To Lose
Hello everyone,
I have discovered a site on fb called Inkitt for showcasing my work and entered a competition they were running. If you win, you get your novel published, so I thought, why not? I'll give it a go, I have nothing to lose and maybe everything to gain.
The competition seems to be judged by readers, you upload your novel to their site and other readers and entrants judge it's merit. Readers can also download a certain amount of copies for free. Not ideal, but my novel is better off on their site than hiding inside my laptop where no one will see it. It's also linked to my fb page and Reditt, It is called THE TORMENTED (and is really tormenting me at the moment) Please feel free to give it a look and a review. (PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE) The more good reviews I get the better.
I have now sent said novel to five different publishers, although three were encouraging, they said it wasn't quite right for them. Austin Macauly said they loved it and would be delighted to publish it, at a price. It seems that because I'm a first time author and have no proper credentials, I would have to pay a percentage of the publishing costs, (nearly £3000) I declined.
I am also entering a few short stories to various places. I'm scouring the internet and fb for free short story competitions, there are a lot that charge an entry fee as well as a reading fee, please do check the terms and conditions of any and all competitions as sometimes they are very well hidden.
There are another three publishing companies I'm going to contact, (agents seem so aloof) I've contacted seven agents and only one of them was nice enough to reply, they said, no thank you, but at least they were polite, the other six just ignored me. So I'm busy tracking down publishing houses that allow you to submit unsolicited MSS,( they are more elusive than ghosts)
Anyway that's enough rambling for now; I'm on holiday from work this week,( the days have flown by almost un-noticed) but I am getting a lot of writing done and my second novel is coming along nicely, good luck to all fellow scribblers; until next time.
I have discovered a site on fb called Inkitt for showcasing my work and entered a competition they were running. If you win, you get your novel published, so I thought, why not? I'll give it a go, I have nothing to lose and maybe everything to gain.
The competition seems to be judged by readers, you upload your novel to their site and other readers and entrants judge it's merit. Readers can also download a certain amount of copies for free. Not ideal, but my novel is better off on their site than hiding inside my laptop where no one will see it. It's also linked to my fb page and Reditt, It is called THE TORMENTED (and is really tormenting me at the moment) Please feel free to give it a look and a review. (PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE) The more good reviews I get the better.
I have now sent said novel to five different publishers, although three were encouraging, they said it wasn't quite right for them. Austin Macauly said they loved it and would be delighted to publish it, at a price. It seems that because I'm a first time author and have no proper credentials, I would have to pay a percentage of the publishing costs, (nearly £3000) I declined.
I am also entering a few short stories to various places. I'm scouring the internet and fb for free short story competitions, there are a lot that charge an entry fee as well as a reading fee, please do check the terms and conditions of any and all competitions as sometimes they are very well hidden.
There are another three publishing companies I'm going to contact, (agents seem so aloof) I've contacted seven agents and only one of them was nice enough to reply, they said, no thank you, but at least they were polite, the other six just ignored me. So I'm busy tracking down publishing houses that allow you to submit unsolicited MSS,( they are more elusive than ghosts)
Anyway that's enough rambling for now; I'm on holiday from work this week,( the days have flown by almost un-noticed) but I am getting a lot of writing done and my second novel is coming along nicely, good luck to all fellow scribblers; until next time.
Wednesday, 24 May 2017
DeJaVu
Hello everyone
today finds me possibly driving in reverse, on a road I travelled 18 months ago and prayed I would never have to travel again. The word redundancy reached my ears today as I toiled away in the garden centre. Word on site is that the powers that be are considering closing the centre down and selling the land off to the local council or a private developer.
My heart leapt into my mouth and I felt sick. No, not again, this can't be happening.
As my little seven day a week cleaning job is in the same centre, I stand to lose both jobs, leaving me once again with nothing. No job means no money, no money means goodbye little flat, hello car.
I have been saving, putting a little of my wages away every month, but it is by no means enough.
I can't face it again; my cats are settled here, they have even made friends. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
The garden centre has been there since I was a child, I thought it was safe. I have spoken to the manager incase it was just an option; I wish I hadn't. Apparently five other locations they have across the country have been closed down.
So here we go again, checking out the job sites, I won't even get redundancy money this time as I haven't eve been there a year yet. The writing of my second book, (still no news on the first one) was going very well, I was happy and settled and the words just seemed to flow. I could picture every scene as clearly as if I were watching it on tv, I began to live the book and become a part of it. Now my mind is filled with fear; I am scared. The manager said nothing will happen until at least the end of this year, beginning of next; some small comfort I suppose.
I wish you all productive and happy writing, until next time.
today finds me possibly driving in reverse, on a road I travelled 18 months ago and prayed I would never have to travel again. The word redundancy reached my ears today as I toiled away in the garden centre. Word on site is that the powers that be are considering closing the centre down and selling the land off to the local council or a private developer.
My heart leapt into my mouth and I felt sick. No, not again, this can't be happening.
As my little seven day a week cleaning job is in the same centre, I stand to lose both jobs, leaving me once again with nothing. No job means no money, no money means goodbye little flat, hello car.
I have been saving, putting a little of my wages away every month, but it is by no means enough.
I can't face it again; my cats are settled here, they have even made friends. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
The garden centre has been there since I was a child, I thought it was safe. I have spoken to the manager incase it was just an option; I wish I hadn't. Apparently five other locations they have across the country have been closed down.
So here we go again, checking out the job sites, I won't even get redundancy money this time as I haven't eve been there a year yet. The writing of my second book, (still no news on the first one) was going very well, I was happy and settled and the words just seemed to flow. I could picture every scene as clearly as if I were watching it on tv, I began to live the book and become a part of it. Now my mind is filled with fear; I am scared. The manager said nothing will happen until at least the end of this year, beginning of next; some small comfort I suppose.
I wish you all productive and happy writing, until next time.
Sunday, 16 April 2017
No News Is NOT Good News
Hello everyone,
Today sees me fed up with waiting. I sent my precious novel out into the world nearly five months ago, to what I thought was a good agency; I stand corrected and confused. The agency stated that it read and replied to all MSS after around three months, if you heard nothing within the three months send them a polite email enquiry.
I waited five months, hoping and praying everyday that I would hear something, but nothing happened. Two weeks ago I emailed a polite enquiry as to whether or not they'd had a chance to read my MSS or at least look at it, but once again I have received nothing except the usual automated response stating they have received my email.
My patience has now gone. I know editors are very busy, but five months is a long time to hear nothing and now another two weeks have passed and even my polite email has been ignored. Well I'm through with being patient. I've sent my novel to another agency and once again after the initial automated response, have to wait patiently, fingers crossed and hope for the best. Their website said that they read and reply to all MSS within eight weeks; we'll see.
I'm still busy writing my next novel and have so far reached the quarter mile mark; only three quarters left and I'm done. Writing seems to have slowed a bit at the moment as paid work takes over. But as I've now worked out my notice on my evening cleaning job, I should have more time to write. I finish my day job at five, get home in half an hour, grab a sandwich and sit down at my desk. If I relax on the sofa I'm done for. Getting up at five every morning, and working until five every evening is taking its toll. I'm still working seven days a week, but have knocked two hours a night off.
I hope everyone has had a good Easter; I was working as usual, but at least I got to wear my bunny ears for the day and made a lot of customers in the restaurant smile.
HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE and keep writing, one day our dream might come true.
Today sees me fed up with waiting. I sent my precious novel out into the world nearly five months ago, to what I thought was a good agency; I stand corrected and confused. The agency stated that it read and replied to all MSS after around three months, if you heard nothing within the three months send them a polite email enquiry.
I waited five months, hoping and praying everyday that I would hear something, but nothing happened. Two weeks ago I emailed a polite enquiry as to whether or not they'd had a chance to read my MSS or at least look at it, but once again I have received nothing except the usual automated response stating they have received my email.
My patience has now gone. I know editors are very busy, but five months is a long time to hear nothing and now another two weeks have passed and even my polite email has been ignored. Well I'm through with being patient. I've sent my novel to another agency and once again after the initial automated response, have to wait patiently, fingers crossed and hope for the best. Their website said that they read and reply to all MSS within eight weeks; we'll see.
I'm still busy writing my next novel and have so far reached the quarter mile mark; only three quarters left and I'm done. Writing seems to have slowed a bit at the moment as paid work takes over. But as I've now worked out my notice on my evening cleaning job, I should have more time to write. I finish my day job at five, get home in half an hour, grab a sandwich and sit down at my desk. If I relax on the sofa I'm done for. Getting up at five every morning, and working until five every evening is taking its toll. I'm still working seven days a week, but have knocked two hours a night off.
I hope everyone has had a good Easter; I was working as usual, but at least I got to wear my bunny ears for the day and made a lot of customers in the restaurant smile.
HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE and keep writing, one day our dream might come true.
Sunday, 5 March 2017
Patience Is A virtue
Hello everyone,
February has come and gone and I have still heard nothing from the agency, it's driving me crazy. I have become obsessed with checking my emails and do so three or four times a day, but the longed for one is never there and my heart sinks just that little bit deeper every time. I remind myself to have patience; the email will come and that no news is good news.
It's been an odd week; I didn't have to scour the job sites as one came looking for me. I helped out a few times in the garden centre restaurant where I clean in the morning as they have been so short staffed and the manager came and spoke to me, asking if I would like a job there; 30 hours a week. I thought he was joking, but no, he was serious. Even though I was unsure, (I've never worked in a restaurant) I found myself saying yes, thank you, that would be great, even though my mind was screaming at me to say no, stop and think about this. It was one of those moments when my mouth and brain were not working together; my mind screams NO but my mouth says yeah alright then.
Anyway I started last Monday and work seven hours a day five days a week, I start at eight, do the cleaning until ten, then get changed, go over to the restaurant and work until five, then go on to my final two hour office clean, getting home around eight thirty. It's a long 12 hour day and I'm on my feet all the time, it's only minimum wage but at least it is a wage.
As for my poor writing, well at the moment its taken a back seat, the restaurant is so busy and chaotic and I don't get a break. The two cleaning jobs are slower paced and allow me to mull over plot lines and think up new problems for my characters and I always have a note book and pen in my pocket. I've scribbled down a few scenes and worked out some of the kinks, so when I do get a chance to write again, hopefully it will be all plain sailing, (I wish)
Anyway, as it's Sunday today, I only work for two hours in the garden centre, the rest of the day is mine and I am determined to get some writing done. All household chores are finished; both cats are asleep, the lizard is lying on his hot water bottle on the window sill and I've got a couple of stroppy characters doing battle in my head; think I'd better go and sort them out.
Until next time, I wish you all well and good luck.
February has come and gone and I have still heard nothing from the agency, it's driving me crazy. I have become obsessed with checking my emails and do so three or four times a day, but the longed for one is never there and my heart sinks just that little bit deeper every time. I remind myself to have patience; the email will come and that no news is good news.
It's been an odd week; I didn't have to scour the job sites as one came looking for me. I helped out a few times in the garden centre restaurant where I clean in the morning as they have been so short staffed and the manager came and spoke to me, asking if I would like a job there; 30 hours a week. I thought he was joking, but no, he was serious. Even though I was unsure, (I've never worked in a restaurant) I found myself saying yes, thank you, that would be great, even though my mind was screaming at me to say no, stop and think about this. It was one of those moments when my mouth and brain were not working together; my mind screams NO but my mouth says yeah alright then.
Anyway I started last Monday and work seven hours a day five days a week, I start at eight, do the cleaning until ten, then get changed, go over to the restaurant and work until five, then go on to my final two hour office clean, getting home around eight thirty. It's a long 12 hour day and I'm on my feet all the time, it's only minimum wage but at least it is a wage.
As for my poor writing, well at the moment its taken a back seat, the restaurant is so busy and chaotic and I don't get a break. The two cleaning jobs are slower paced and allow me to mull over plot lines and think up new problems for my characters and I always have a note book and pen in my pocket. I've scribbled down a few scenes and worked out some of the kinks, so when I do get a chance to write again, hopefully it will be all plain sailing, (I wish)
Anyway, as it's Sunday today, I only work for two hours in the garden centre, the rest of the day is mine and I am determined to get some writing done. All household chores are finished; both cats are asleep, the lizard is lying on his hot water bottle on the window sill and I've got a couple of stroppy characters doing battle in my head; think I'd better go and sort them out.
Until next time, I wish you all well and good luck.
Sunday, 5 February 2017
Fear, Worry And New Legislation
Hello everyone,
I've been flitting around job sites this month looking for a few more hours. I don't want to, I want to fill my hours with writing and my head with stories, but I got scared. What happens if I get an unexpected bill or (God forbid) have to take one of my cats to the vet? I'll tell you, I might not be able to pay the rent and I'm terrified of being homeless again, I can't face that, not again.
So with all my years (11) to be precise, in the care industry, all that time spent training and getting qualified to management level, I thought I'd put it to good use and so looked at going back into it, just part time, maybe community care. There are always jobs available in the care sector, community or nursing home, well, I was in for a shock.
Because I've been out of the care world for over a year now, all my training, certificates and qualifications count for nothing, I would have to start from the bottom again. Even my NVQ's are all useless now. I spoke to several agencies and a care home manager, all of whom said I would have to retrain from the start; with the basics. They did all assure me, that because I already have the qualifications and the knowledge, that it wouldn't take me long to go through the training again, maybe a year or two; needless to say, I declined.
All that time I spent training, all those wasted years, my evenings and weekends spent sitting in front of my computer doing stupid training courses instead of doing what I really wanted; all wasted now because of new legislation. I'm too old to retrain, can't even be bothered, all that extra work and my writing on hold while I do pointless courses to teach me how to wipe a 95 year old shitty bum.
Guess I'll keep looking; maybe supermarket work, check out or shelf stacking, anything to keep the wolf away from the door and as it's February, (the month I've been waiting for) I'm checking my emails about three times a day, hoping and praying to hear from the agency. Part of me is excited, part terrified, I know when I see the email I will be terrified to open it, what if it says 'NO?' What if it says YES?' Hopefully by the time I write next I should have an answer; one way or the other, but until then, I will keep writing and hoping.
good luck to everyone who shares my passion, may 2017 be our year.
I've been flitting around job sites this month looking for a few more hours. I don't want to, I want to fill my hours with writing and my head with stories, but I got scared. What happens if I get an unexpected bill or (God forbid) have to take one of my cats to the vet? I'll tell you, I might not be able to pay the rent and I'm terrified of being homeless again, I can't face that, not again.
So with all my years (11) to be precise, in the care industry, all that time spent training and getting qualified to management level, I thought I'd put it to good use and so looked at going back into it, just part time, maybe community care. There are always jobs available in the care sector, community or nursing home, well, I was in for a shock.
Because I've been out of the care world for over a year now, all my training, certificates and qualifications count for nothing, I would have to start from the bottom again. Even my NVQ's are all useless now. I spoke to several agencies and a care home manager, all of whom said I would have to retrain from the start; with the basics. They did all assure me, that because I already have the qualifications and the knowledge, that it wouldn't take me long to go through the training again, maybe a year or two; needless to say, I declined.
All that time I spent training, all those wasted years, my evenings and weekends spent sitting in front of my computer doing stupid training courses instead of doing what I really wanted; all wasted now because of new legislation. I'm too old to retrain, can't even be bothered, all that extra work and my writing on hold while I do pointless courses to teach me how to wipe a 95 year old shitty bum.
Guess I'll keep looking; maybe supermarket work, check out or shelf stacking, anything to keep the wolf away from the door and as it's February, (the month I've been waiting for) I'm checking my emails about three times a day, hoping and praying to hear from the agency. Part of me is excited, part terrified, I know when I see the email I will be terrified to open it, what if it says 'NO?' What if it says YES?' Hopefully by the time I write next I should have an answer; one way or the other, but until then, I will keep writing and hoping.
good luck to everyone who shares my passion, may 2017 be our year.
Friday, 30 December 2016
A good idea or a stupid mistake
Hello everyone,
My novel has been out in the big wide agency world for a few weeks now, I do miss it, but to keep from worrying about it, I'm full on with my second one and have reached chapter five already.
A few weeks ago, four to be precise; I did a strange thing. I handed in my notice on two of my four jobs. I have worked out my months notice on both of them, so as from the new year I am only working 35 hours a week instead of over 60.
You see, I have an image in my head; me sitting in my office at home (in my nice new house by the sea) spending all my time writing. No more working for someone else, I'm going to be my own boss. Obviously I still need money to pay the rent and bills etc and I will have to cut back,(drastically) I've always wanted to do this, to be a fulltime writer and if I don't try, I'll never know, so I decided in my infinite moment of wisdom, that it was now or never; so now it is.
This could be the best moment of my life; the best decision I've ever made, or it could be the most stupid thing I've ever done, either way I won't know unless I try.
I know the agency said it was a 12 week wait, maybe more, which takes us up to sometime in February, but I still can't help checking my emails with excitement every day ...just in case.
I've also decided now is the perfect time to give up smoking, (let's face it, I'm never going to afford it now) I'm not sure what's got into me, I feel happy and hopeful for the future. I have no men in my life anymore (apart from my son and he doesn't count) my girls are happy, my cats are happy and so finally, am I.
Here's to 2017; let's hope it's a great new start for everyone,
HAPPY NEW YEAR
My novel has been out in the big wide agency world for a few weeks now, I do miss it, but to keep from worrying about it, I'm full on with my second one and have reached chapter five already.
A few weeks ago, four to be precise; I did a strange thing. I handed in my notice on two of my four jobs. I have worked out my months notice on both of them, so as from the new year I am only working 35 hours a week instead of over 60.
You see, I have an image in my head; me sitting in my office at home (in my nice new house by the sea) spending all my time writing. No more working for someone else, I'm going to be my own boss. Obviously I still need money to pay the rent and bills etc and I will have to cut back,(drastically) I've always wanted to do this, to be a fulltime writer and if I don't try, I'll never know, so I decided in my infinite moment of wisdom, that it was now or never; so now it is.
This could be the best moment of my life; the best decision I've ever made, or it could be the most stupid thing I've ever done, either way I won't know unless I try.
I know the agency said it was a 12 week wait, maybe more, which takes us up to sometime in February, but I still can't help checking my emails with excitement every day ...just in case.
I've also decided now is the perfect time to give up smoking, (let's face it, I'm never going to afford it now) I'm not sure what's got into me, I feel happy and hopeful for the future. I have no men in my life anymore (apart from my son and he doesn't count) my girls are happy, my cats are happy and so finally, am I.
Here's to 2017; let's hope it's a great new start for everyone,
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Sunday, 20 November 2016
A kiss Goodbye
Hello everyone
My novel is finished, 82.000words. It has been read and reread so many times and edited to within an inch of its life and has now finally been sent out into the big wide agency world to fend for itself.
It took me three days to write a cover letter and nearly half a trees worth of paper before I was finally satisfied. The synopsis was relatively easy and took two tries; the first detailed everything I wanted to say, while the edited version was stripped down to the bare bones AND I got it down to a single page.
I chose my agent carefully. After referring to THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS YEARBOOK and hundreds of agencies on line, I selected the five I considered to be right for me and my genre before whittling it down to the last two. The one I chose; MADELEINE MILBURN, said they read everything that is sent to them; so blowing a kiss to my MSS I hit the send button and wished it good luck.
I received an acknowledgement within the hour, which I thought was very nice; it was only a standard thanks for submitting, but at least I know they got it, but I'm now going to have a nail biting 12 week wait, which takes us up to February to find out if its been accepted.
I have now started my second novel; it was the only way to stop me worrying about the first one, although I must admit, it's never far from my mind. I see books on the shelves of Waterstones and imagine my book sitting there proudly on the shelf for all to see. 12 weeks is a long time; three months and as Christmas will soon be upon us and everything will grind to a halt, I'm sure it will take longer, but as they say, patience is a virtue, it also drives you crazy.
That's about it for now; good luck to anyone who has sent their MSS out into the big wide world.
My novel is finished, 82.000words. It has been read and reread so many times and edited to within an inch of its life and has now finally been sent out into the big wide agency world to fend for itself.
It took me three days to write a cover letter and nearly half a trees worth of paper before I was finally satisfied. The synopsis was relatively easy and took two tries; the first detailed everything I wanted to say, while the edited version was stripped down to the bare bones AND I got it down to a single page.
I chose my agent carefully. After referring to THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS YEARBOOK and hundreds of agencies on line, I selected the five I considered to be right for me and my genre before whittling it down to the last two. The one I chose; MADELEINE MILBURN, said they read everything that is sent to them; so blowing a kiss to my MSS I hit the send button and wished it good luck.
I received an acknowledgement within the hour, which I thought was very nice; it was only a standard thanks for submitting, but at least I know they got it, but I'm now going to have a nail biting 12 week wait, which takes us up to February to find out if its been accepted.
I have now started my second novel; it was the only way to stop me worrying about the first one, although I must admit, it's never far from my mind. I see books on the shelves of Waterstones and imagine my book sitting there proudly on the shelf for all to see. 12 weeks is a long time; three months and as Christmas will soon be upon us and everything will grind to a halt, I'm sure it will take longer, but as they say, patience is a virtue, it also drives you crazy.
That's about it for now; good luck to anyone who has sent their MSS out into the big wide world.
Thursday, 27 October 2016
The End;
Hello everyone
Yes, that's it, I have finally finished my novel; all 300 pages, now comes the hard, eye strain bit of editing it to death. I have been editing as I go, so it's really just a case of tidying it up and re-reading to make sure it all makes sense.
I aim to get it all finished, edited, checked and polished by the end of this month, which as from yesterday, gives me a week. I have found an agency to send it to, after checking the writers and artists year book and hundreds of google pages for agents, I think (hope) I've found the right one.
I have also made a new friend online; his name is Dan and he lives in America. We have been chatting for a while and seem to have a lot in common. He loves horror and anything spooky. He has sent me lots of great pictures, which inspire my imagination; I want to write, write, write, but real paid work gets in the way.
I have already got a second book planned and third and forth. I take my writing with me inside my head and when I am doing my boring, monotonous paid job, I work on my book, piecing things together and planning the story.
Writers often complain that they have nothing to write about; I have the opposite problem, too much to write about. I have so many books and short stories in my head, it's just finding the time to get them out and onto paper.
Anyway I'd better get back to it; I have two spare hours before I have to start my next job, good luck to everyone in the writing and living world.
Yes, that's it, I have finally finished my novel; all 300 pages, now comes the hard, eye strain bit of editing it to death. I have been editing as I go, so it's really just a case of tidying it up and re-reading to make sure it all makes sense.
I aim to get it all finished, edited, checked and polished by the end of this month, which as from yesterday, gives me a week. I have found an agency to send it to, after checking the writers and artists year book and hundreds of google pages for agents, I think (hope) I've found the right one.
I have also made a new friend online; his name is Dan and he lives in America. We have been chatting for a while and seem to have a lot in common. He loves horror and anything spooky. He has sent me lots of great pictures, which inspire my imagination; I want to write, write, write, but real paid work gets in the way.
I have already got a second book planned and third and forth. I take my writing with me inside my head and when I am doing my boring, monotonous paid job, I work on my book, piecing things together and planning the story.
Writers often complain that they have nothing to write about; I have the opposite problem, too much to write about. I have so many books and short stories in my head, it's just finding the time to get them out and onto paper.
Anyway I'd better get back to it; I have two spare hours before I have to start my next job, good luck to everyone in the writing and living world.
Sunday, 28 August 2016
Three Little Words
Hello everyone;
I have now received my very first comment on my blog page and I couldn't be happier.
I always check expectantly, hoping, praying, but the comment box is always empty. Imagine my surprise this time when it actually had something in it. Three little words. That was it; no more, no less, and what were those three little words; NEVER GIVE UP. Someone (you know who you are) actually cared enough and took the time to comment on something I had written and whoever that unknown person is, I THANK YOU.
Those three little words, no more than 11 letters made my day. I was ready to give up. After coming nowhere in the competition, I felt a failure, a reject, I was wasting my time, but those words gave me hope, when nothing else had.
I have unboxed my book, dragging it back out from the cobweb shrouded darkness under my bed and am now racing towards the finish line. I will complete it; if only for my own pleasure and satisfaction. I do have a couple of agents lined up and I will contact them when it's completed. Until then I shall press on; the end is in sight and I can't wait to type those two little words.
Well that's it for now; I have a novel to finish.
Good luck to all fellow scribblers.
I have now received my very first comment on my blog page and I couldn't be happier.
I always check expectantly, hoping, praying, but the comment box is always empty. Imagine my surprise this time when it actually had something in it. Three little words. That was it; no more, no less, and what were those three little words; NEVER GIVE UP. Someone (you know who you are) actually cared enough and took the time to comment on something I had written and whoever that unknown person is, I THANK YOU.
Those three little words, no more than 11 letters made my day. I was ready to give up. After coming nowhere in the competition, I felt a failure, a reject, I was wasting my time, but those words gave me hope, when nothing else had.
I have unboxed my book, dragging it back out from the cobweb shrouded darkness under my bed and am now racing towards the finish line. I will complete it; if only for my own pleasure and satisfaction. I do have a couple of agents lined up and I will contact them when it's completed. Until then I shall press on; the end is in sight and I can't wait to type those two little words.
Well that's it for now; I have a novel to finish.
Good luck to all fellow scribblers.
Tuesday, 23 August 2016
Tuesday, 19 July 2016
Self Doubt Sets In
Hello everyone,
Well I didn't win the competition, but then I didn't expect to and yet, somewhere in the cobweb shrouded recess of my mind, hope lies there expectantly. Thanks to that competition I now have serious doubts about my novel; the synopsis was read by a professional and they didn't want it, so does that mean that no one else will want it either?
I am so close to the end and yet I fear finishing it. What if I've wasted all that time and effort for nothing. I have not looked at it in over a month; should I bother finishing it or just shred it? I am so tempted to give up my dreams of becoming a writer, I have so much normal, paid work at the moment that I'm having to turn it away, so what's the point in chasing a dream?
I have thrown a lot of old writing material and stories out; just didn't see the point in keeping them to gather yet more dust under my bed. I even held my novel in my hands; all five hand written books and was ready to tear them up and bin them and yet, I couldn't do it. My dream is so strong and no matter how many times I've tried to crush and kill it, it just won't die, It's like a disease or a pesky summer insect, always there gnawing away at the back of my mind. You won't know if you don't try. You won't know if you don't try. On and on, droning at the back of my mind.
I did think about the self publishing route, but it just doesn't feel real, my spiteful mind says; you're not good enough, you had to do it yourself; no one likes your stories enough to want to buy them and then I get the crashing, neon pink FAILURE sign
doing the rounds inside my head, bumping into stories that will never be given life.
Why do I have this compulsion to write? Was I born with it? Am I talented? Or afflicted? I wish I knew. Either way I know I will continue to write; I can't help it.
Until next time good luck to all would be writers.
Well I didn't win the competition, but then I didn't expect to and yet, somewhere in the cobweb shrouded recess of my mind, hope lies there expectantly. Thanks to that competition I now have serious doubts about my novel; the synopsis was read by a professional and they didn't want it, so does that mean that no one else will want it either?
I am so close to the end and yet I fear finishing it. What if I've wasted all that time and effort for nothing. I have not looked at it in over a month; should I bother finishing it or just shred it? I am so tempted to give up my dreams of becoming a writer, I have so much normal, paid work at the moment that I'm having to turn it away, so what's the point in chasing a dream?
I have thrown a lot of old writing material and stories out; just didn't see the point in keeping them to gather yet more dust under my bed. I even held my novel in my hands; all five hand written books and was ready to tear them up and bin them and yet, I couldn't do it. My dream is so strong and no matter how many times I've tried to crush and kill it, it just won't die, It's like a disease or a pesky summer insect, always there gnawing away at the back of my mind. You won't know if you don't try. You won't know if you don't try. On and on, droning at the back of my mind.
I did think about the self publishing route, but it just doesn't feel real, my spiteful mind says; you're not good enough, you had to do it yourself; no one likes your stories enough to want to buy them and then I get the crashing, neon pink FAILURE sign
doing the rounds inside my head, bumping into stories that will never be given life.
Why do I have this compulsion to write? Was I born with it? Am I talented? Or afflicted? I wish I knew. Either way I know I will continue to write; I can't help it.
Until next time good luck to all would be writers.
Wednesday, 15 June 2016
A Lesson Well Learnt.
Hello everyone,
My romantic journey has ended. It had been on a downward spiral shortly after I became homeless. It's funny too, because I can remember the exact point when it changed. We were sitting in the local park; I was going through a really tough time, everything was getting to me; he was aware of my situation but chose to ignore it.
That day everything had got too much; I was contemplating the end. I poured my heart out to him and yes; I cried in front of him. I hated myself for doing it, but I just couldn't stop the tears, the dam wall had been breached and the flood was coming. I never cry in front of anyone, simply holding onto the tears until I'm alone, it makes me feel weak, but that day was a rare exception. If I cry in front of anyone, it means I'm REALLY hurting.
What a mistake. He didn't move, simply looked at me and turned away. He didn't cuddle or console me, he didn't even speak, just sat there looking uncomfortable, which made me feel a complete fool. I eventually stopped the flow through sheer will power, but the next half an hour was painfully awkward.
I didn't want sympathy or even empathy or understanding; I just wanted a cuddle. He didn't have to say anything, but his total lack of response just made me hurt even more. My feelings for him gradually began to change from that day. I spoke to him about it (through text) as he'd never talk about anything like that face to face, but he simply said 'I didn't know what to do.' so he chose to do nothing. That was a severe learning experience; it's human nature to cuddle and console someone who is crying or upset; it's an auto response.
I kept a diary or three for the whole of our time together and one day I will read them again. There is a lot of good information in them for a story, (something good has to come out of this) I wrote down thoughts, feelings, things he'd said to me both nice and nasty and he could be really nasty, especially if he didn't get his own way. I have enough material for a book; it may start out as a romantic love story, but it sure as hell won't end happily ever after.
Must get back to work now; the boring work that pays the bills; good luck to everyone with whatever project you're working on, until next time . . .
My romantic journey has ended. It had been on a downward spiral shortly after I became homeless. It's funny too, because I can remember the exact point when it changed. We were sitting in the local park; I was going through a really tough time, everything was getting to me; he was aware of my situation but chose to ignore it.
That day everything had got too much; I was contemplating the end. I poured my heart out to him and yes; I cried in front of him. I hated myself for doing it, but I just couldn't stop the tears, the dam wall had been breached and the flood was coming. I never cry in front of anyone, simply holding onto the tears until I'm alone, it makes me feel weak, but that day was a rare exception. If I cry in front of anyone, it means I'm REALLY hurting.
What a mistake. He didn't move, simply looked at me and turned away. He didn't cuddle or console me, he didn't even speak, just sat there looking uncomfortable, which made me feel a complete fool. I eventually stopped the flow through sheer will power, but the next half an hour was painfully awkward.
I didn't want sympathy or even empathy or understanding; I just wanted a cuddle. He didn't have to say anything, but his total lack of response just made me hurt even more. My feelings for him gradually began to change from that day. I spoke to him about it (through text) as he'd never talk about anything like that face to face, but he simply said 'I didn't know what to do.' so he chose to do nothing. That was a severe learning experience; it's human nature to cuddle and console someone who is crying or upset; it's an auto response.
I kept a diary or three for the whole of our time together and one day I will read them again. There is a lot of good information in them for a story, (something good has to come out of this) I wrote down thoughts, feelings, things he'd said to me both nice and nasty and he could be really nasty, especially if he didn't get his own way. I have enough material for a book; it may start out as a romantic love story, but it sure as hell won't end happily ever after.
Must get back to work now; the boring work that pays the bills; good luck to everyone with whatever project you're working on, until next time . . .
Tuesday, 10 May 2016
On The Home Stretch
Hello everyone
I've almost finished my novel, I'm on the home stretch and the end is in sight; then comes the arduous task of editing. Last month, quite by accident I found a competition in the daily mail for a first time novelist; the newspaper was in one of the rubbish bins where I work in the evenings and I thought okay i'll send it in, what have I got to lose, maybe I was meant to find it.The winner will receive £20.000 and a publishing contract, hence why I'm racing to get it finished. The competition closed last month and the judges will decide in June, so i'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I have also got a second, third and fourth novel planned as well as myriad short stories on the go, a few of which are doing the rounds, thanks to possible homes found on the Horror Tree, most are for inclusion in horror anthologies, so again, fingers crossed; i'm fast running out of fingers.
On a completely different note; I would have been at my beautiful little flat for six months on 21st of May; so I think a little party is called for. After being homeless for over six months, I thought this day would never come. Every day I only have to look at my two happy cats to realise how lucky we are to have a roof over our heads; things could have been a lot worse.
My concrete and dirt patch has been transformed; I have laid artificial grass and brought a fake rose and wisteria tree as well as a couple of fake topiary balls, all I need now is one more fake tree and some pebbles and I think i'm done. I took a few photos of it before I started and I'll take some more when it's finished and hopefully; if I can, post them here .
Well I think that's about it for now, must get back to my novel; can't wait to write the last word.
Good luck to everyone out there who enjoys a good scribble.
I've almost finished my novel, I'm on the home stretch and the end is in sight; then comes the arduous task of editing. Last month, quite by accident I found a competition in the daily mail for a first time novelist; the newspaper was in one of the rubbish bins where I work in the evenings and I thought okay i'll send it in, what have I got to lose, maybe I was meant to find it.The winner will receive £20.000 and a publishing contract, hence why I'm racing to get it finished. The competition closed last month and the judges will decide in June, so i'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I have also got a second, third and fourth novel planned as well as myriad short stories on the go, a few of which are doing the rounds, thanks to possible homes found on the Horror Tree, most are for inclusion in horror anthologies, so again, fingers crossed; i'm fast running out of fingers.
On a completely different note; I would have been at my beautiful little flat for six months on 21st of May; so I think a little party is called for. After being homeless for over six months, I thought this day would never come. Every day I only have to look at my two happy cats to realise how lucky we are to have a roof over our heads; things could have been a lot worse.
My concrete and dirt patch has been transformed; I have laid artificial grass and brought a fake rose and wisteria tree as well as a couple of fake topiary balls, all I need now is one more fake tree and some pebbles and I think i'm done. I took a few photos of it before I started and I'll take some more when it's finished and hopefully; if I can, post them here .
Well I think that's about it for now, must get back to my novel; can't wait to write the last word.
Good luck to everyone out there who enjoys a good scribble.
Thursday, 21 April 2016
The What If Syndrome
Hello everyone
We, my two cats and myself are very happy and settled here in our nice flat, the rent's paid, all the bills are paid, I have broadband, an old but very reliable car, warmth, enough food and am easily working enough hours to pay for everything and still have money left over. Yes, things are looking up, so why am I afraid?
I'll tell you why, It could all come crashing down. Its happened before, made redundant and ended up homeless all in the space of a month. I am suffering from a severe case of the 'What if's'.
I'm afraid to relax and really enjoy myself because I know how quickly things can change. What if the landlord decides to sell? Or wants me out for some other reason, what if I lose one or more of the six jobs I'm doing and can't pay the rent?
I am working ten, sometimes 12 hours a day, seven days a week just so that I can have some money saved up should disaster strike again. I should be enjoying what I have, but my constant fear of becoming homeless again is stopping me from really appreciating and being able to enjoy what I have.
My novel, however is coming along in leaps and bounds and is almost finished, only two chapters to go, then comes the BIG edit. I have also written three short stories and sent them off into the world. Writing seems to be an escape from reality at the moment and allows me to think of something else and not obsess over my own fears. Also a couple of my jobs are office cleaning, where a brain is not required, this then allows my body to go onto autopilot and my mind to think over difficult plot ideas and new stories, so when I do finally get a few free hours here and there to do some writing, it's pretty much all there filed away inside my head, or on various bits of scrap paper screwed up in my pocket, or suffocating in the depths of my bag.
That's about it for now, but if anyone out there knows how to stop the WHAT IF syndrome, it would be very much appreciated.
We, my two cats and myself are very happy and settled here in our nice flat, the rent's paid, all the bills are paid, I have broadband, an old but very reliable car, warmth, enough food and am easily working enough hours to pay for everything and still have money left over. Yes, things are looking up, so why am I afraid?
I'll tell you why, It could all come crashing down. Its happened before, made redundant and ended up homeless all in the space of a month. I am suffering from a severe case of the 'What if's'.
I'm afraid to relax and really enjoy myself because I know how quickly things can change. What if the landlord decides to sell? Or wants me out for some other reason, what if I lose one or more of the six jobs I'm doing and can't pay the rent?
I am working ten, sometimes 12 hours a day, seven days a week just so that I can have some money saved up should disaster strike again. I should be enjoying what I have, but my constant fear of becoming homeless again is stopping me from really appreciating and being able to enjoy what I have.
My novel, however is coming along in leaps and bounds and is almost finished, only two chapters to go, then comes the BIG edit. I have also written three short stories and sent them off into the world. Writing seems to be an escape from reality at the moment and allows me to think of something else and not obsess over my own fears. Also a couple of my jobs are office cleaning, where a brain is not required, this then allows my body to go onto autopilot and my mind to think over difficult plot ideas and new stories, so when I do finally get a few free hours here and there to do some writing, it's pretty much all there filed away inside my head, or on various bits of scrap paper screwed up in my pocket, or suffocating in the depths of my bag.
That's about it for now, but if anyone out there knows how to stop the WHAT IF syndrome, it would be very much appreciated.
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