Mother Writes: March 2013

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Dreaming in Lisbon

Lisboa

I spent last weekend in the tumbledown rainy sunny city of Lisboa, visiting some old friends. I love this place. The dire economic straits the country is in is palpable but despite this, Lisboans have not lost their sense of alegria. (This is a Spanish & Portuguese word which broadly translates to lightness of spirit).

The whole time I was away, I was feeling pretty excited because last week, for the first time in a VERY, VERY long time, an agent asked to see my full manuscript. I really needed this as a boost to my confidence and to help me believe that my writing is of some merit because, believe me, there are times when I wonder. So while I was away, I was in that wonderful in-between stage of golden hope, knowing that they liked what they'd read so far, and that this could actually be something. Now I'm back in England and the rest of the manuscript has been sent off to them. I sat for a long time at the lap-top, not quite bringing myself to be able to push the 'send' button because that in-between dreaming stage will be lost to me forever. It's a bizarre feeling but once I pressed it, it's out of my hands again and now all I can do is sit tight and wait.

Monday, 4 March 2013

Kenya

I spent last week in Kenya and it was...well...heavenly.

Here's me in our lodge near to Lake Navaisha. I managed to read 2 books during the week (when did I last do that?), write some haiku, organise cover letters for the different agents I'm going to send my manuscript out to, eat far too much, sleep more than I've slept in months, do some yoga overlooking the lake and also spend proper time with my hubby (the longest alone since our honeymoon!). I also found out whilst I was away that a short story of mine is going to be published soon in What the Dickens magazine :)

Without even going on safari, we saw some incredible wildlife and I'm so excited to share this with the children when we move out in 6 weeks (yikes, 6 weeks, is that all?!!). It feels like a bit of a tick-tock countdown now I'm back in the UK, so much to do, so many people to see. I don't think we're going to be back here for at least a year and admittedly, everyone is so busy these days with work and family lives that quite often a year goes by anyway without seeing people. But even so, our move to Africa is feeling nearer and more real and I'm feeling a mixture of dizzy excitement on how our lives in Kenya will unfold and sadness at this chapter ending here in Twickenham.

I spent the morning in a frenzy of printing and by the end of this week I'm going to send out my manuscript to ten more agents. Then next week (or the week after), the final ten. A friend on saturday made the point to me that it takes a mere half hour to upload one's ebook on to amazon (really?) and yes, that may be what I'm looking at in a few months time and if that's the case, I shall endeavour (!) to embrace it. But until then, I'm fighting till the death for the analogue / acoustic version of my book ;)

Here's me getting to know a wild fig tree!

Mother Writes...What's it all about?

When I was little, I imagined with the supreme confidence of a child that when I was all grown up, I'd be a celebrated writer. And by grown-up, I probably meant about eighteen. The concept of even reaching the age of thirty, let alone beyond, was off my radar and my seven-year old self shuddered at the ominious thought of not having published at least several novels by that grand old age.

Fast forward to the present. Here I am, age thirty-five, wife to a lovely hubby and mother to three gorgeous children. Now, am I writer? My seven-year old self would hold a very strong opinion on this: No, because I don't have a single published novel to my name. But I'm pleased to say that now I'm all grown-up, I'm also a bit more measured and realistic in my expectations of myself. Don't get me wrong - I love my seven-year old self for believing I could achieve that much but I have, over the years, come to an important conclusion:

If you dance, you are a dancer. If you paint, you are a painter. And if you write, you are a writer.

But we have to actually do it, not just talk about doing it. It's all too easy to procrastinate about our creative endeavours and that's all I ask of myself now: to create; to write. And if I'm lucky enough to get something published (which I'm pleased to say that I have done, in the form of short stories, reviews and articles), well, that's a bonus. And that's what this blog offers: little slices of honesty on my plate of life as mother, wife and creator of words. It's often not easy to juggle all three, particularly dealing with bouts of chronic insomnia. But I have to trust this is all part of the journey, and challenges are what make life interesting.