Wednesday, August 31, 2011

They don't need me anymore.

Its a beautiful beautiful morning.
I am sitting at my desk feeling relief and a small bit wobbly.
Both kids are now in secondary.
I am feeling a bit out of sorts over it all.
Girl child (the older) is starting second year which means she now is in
the exam cycle for Junior Cert. Argghh.
How am I supposed to cope with that.
It is just way way too adult for me right now.
Boy child (the younger) started in his secondary this week, Its all boys,
some of them are over 6 foot tall and built for God's sake!
I sound like a perv eyeing up the fresh meat just there - but its my little
precious one I am thinking of, surrounded by all that brawn.
In other circumstances I would be jealous but . . . . . . .

I am finding it increasing difficult to fill this role of parent.
Small kids are fine - feed, clothe, wash, bed or something like that. You
do it for them and then teach them how to do it for themselves.
But now with my preteens almost adults - Its like they really don't need me
I am the one insisting on continuing the charade.
I am the one doing all this extra stuff for them that they really would
prefer to do themselves.
How do I take a step back and let them

Saturday, August 20, 2011

What price bliss?

I've been married now for 15 years (pinch! pinch! I am not dreaming it really has been that long). Its important you know that to understand the rest of this blog. Hubster was out of town last night (no big deal he often is) and I managed to get rid of the kids (get them to bed) for 10.40pm which is very good in our house. I am losing that battle.
Any ole ho - the thing is- I was lying in bed earlyish and having the full double bed to myself was just bliss. Imagine lying there in silence sliding my legs out and in like some sort of synchronised swimmer. It was heavenly. I had uninterrupted access to the cool cotton sheets. There no hairy legs to impede my progress. There were no sneaky farts other than my own. No sudden outbursts from his side of the bed about bad driving, crooked politicians dwindling finances. I was alone with my thoughts.
And I was thinking 'I could get used to this!'
Then I thought 'Oops where does that leave us'.
So on that scary note I nodded off to sleep.
In the morning I realised 'who am I kidding'. I couldn't get used to this at all. It just wasn't right - there was an emptiness in the air that I can't describe. I wasn't alone wandering around the kitchen - my son was up and about doing his early morning grunt once for yes and twice for no. BUT. I had no pardner in crime to snicker with. My buddy was missing. My pal. The One (15 years ago he was anyway) Do I mind giving up all that cool cotton space - honestly - a little. But the alternative is .. . . . I don't even want to think about the alternative.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Holidays are not good when I am supposed to be writing every day! YIKES

Well. I knew when I went away for a few days to Kerry with the kids minus Hubster that I wouldn't get any writing done. But I was fairly confident that with the change of venue and fresh sea air I would have a few ideas floating about in my head. I wanted to do the 'must love guns' piece of flash fiction on CW's terrible minds - got absolutely no inspiration for that. I had wanted to do a bit of remodelling on the 2 previous pieces again nada and what about my WIP set in France? again nada. What happened was Jodi Picoult came to visit in the form of my sister lending me 'Plain Truth'. Wow it blew me away. Her writing is very good I mean we all know that. And she tackles big issues again no surprise there. However, the insider view of the Amish way of life and their way of thinking completly swallowed me up. The other parts of the story the paranormal and the courtroom drama all written excellently but for me it was all about the Amish Farm. Set in the summer how idyllic. What about when it is snowing outside and the cows still have to be milked? Well we don't have to worry because its set in the blistering dusty heat of the late summer.
I loved it. Must go back and re-read immediately.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Writing: Just how do other people make it work (paid work)

I have been trying to write something each day.
This a new experience for me.
Just something to get in the habit of producing a word count of maybe 500
or so.
Nothing too frightening, but a solid bit of something all the same.
Instead of just talking about it.
Just get down to it and do it rather than talk all around.
The kind of thing people, published people otherwise known as authors tell
you to do.
It makes sense.
Eventually with lots of practise you see your mistakes as they appear on
the page and can jump on top of them and crush them like cockroaches.
Eventually you get in the habit of having a time assigned to your writing
that your husband, children, extended family and friends respect.
Eventually a few of the pieces you get out on to paper are good enough to
sew together to make a something.
Something that you might enter as a short story for a competition or
actually create a novel with?
I don't know the how BUT I am willing to try.
However I need routine to do this and for the next two weeks I am on
holidays with no access to PC's e-mail etc.
So to keep it up I am going to try and write long hand and see what
Wish me luck!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

It's My Dirty Little Secret!

Chuck Wendig over on terrible minds
throws out the question 'What's it like being a writer?'

Why! Don't ya know? It's my dirty little secret.

He (CW) compares it to having a virus and he is spot on. People
{non-wannabe-writers} just don't get it. Much the same way I don't get why
you can't keep your red nosed weepy eyed germ laden breath at home today.
They don't understand the compulsion to turn words into sentences into
paragraphs into pages.

Why would you waste a perfectly good day doing that? She asks? Why did
you come to work today? I ask.

If you're not getting paid for it; it's worthless. If you live in the
west; where everything is measured in shekels; it's doubly worthless. So
if you haven't a published work(s) under your arm you can't call yourself a
writer. It's not allowed.

But if you have a hobby now that's a completely different animal. What do
you do? 'I fish' translation I sit on the bank being eaten by insects
getting drunk. That has validation. That has respect. But I don't know
many women who fish but lots who(want to) write.

Why do I torture myself like this - I can't help it. I see a beautiful
sunset I wonder how to describe it so someone can see it. I can't just
enjoy it the sunset for itself.

I eat a delicious meal I ask what the ingredients are so I can reproduce it
on paper. Not cause I'm going to treat my family.

I am exhausted lying under the covers and my mind is questioning the word
exhausted; it's too passive, it doesn't describe this bone weary, body
dragging sensation where I'm so tired even the blankets hurt.

And the guilt! Added to the Irish martyr mother guilt, it's almost (but not
quite) deadly. Every free moment or afternoon off is laden with guilt.
Wouldn't your time be better spent 'living'?
And what about the shame? Spending all that valuable quality time not on your family but selfishly totting up word counts, creating nothing out of nothing, hoping something will come of it? Hang your head NOW and do not look me in the eye. I have your number. I know what you've been doing under the sheets.

For me a lot of the time I feel like I am living once removed. I am not
really in the moment at all. And I worry I really do about how this is
effecting my children. Will they grow up into some kind of monsters
because their mother is some kind of addled wannabe writer who doesn't know
the saucepans on fire? Again.

It's a dream. To make my income from putting words together. Do I have a
right to dream that dream?

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

No Pony No Cry

For me any way.
Don't misunderstand - I like horses and ponies.
They are easy on the eye. Some of them are very smart.
But I just don't get it. I don't see the point. They are incredibly expensive.

They need their own house, complete with yard and garden.
They need their feet looked after (pedicure AND manicure)
They have vet bills every year.
Their clothing (saddles and rugs) are all either leather or pure new wool - I don't dress that well.
What's the return? I at least work for a living bringing in a wage which although meagre keeps some of the wolves from the door. So I ask -
'What is the point?'
'Why does my son want a pony so desperately?'
'What will it bring to my family?'

Trouble and strife is what.

Already I feel like a failure. We can't afford it.

Buying one is only the first step.

We don't live in the country so we have no where to put it. I am quite sure the urban council wouldn't allow me to keep it in my front garden. And the animal rights people would frown on me keeping it in the house. Next option is to HIRE space for it somewhere. Actually rent B and B space for it. My feeling - if I am going to spend on B and B it bloody well better be me that's is getting the benefit of it.

Since they were born my kids have been ferried everywhere by me. So if this animal isn't grazing on my lawn, or sleeping in my living room we will have to drive somewhere to feed, it water it, let roam free all before I've even had my brekkie, before school, before work begins for the day? Who's going to convince me to do that? Oh and before you ask 'Yes it will be me doing all the ferrying because their Dad is always too busy, not around or too grumpy so they just don't ask him to do stuff with them unless I push.

His Dad understands the pony thing. He gets the whole I must have a pony. Well then he can bloody well look after it!

Monday, August 8, 2011

Miss Communication

Who said the foundation of a good relationship is based on communication?
Was it you down the back staring out the window?
Or you on the edge of your seat looking at the door?
Face this way the lot of you.

I ndde to know this because I don't know and I'd like to know. I find my relationship with the Hubster is based on miscommunication most of the time. And now I have to confess I use it to my advantage ALOT.
It was called a sin of omission if you forgot to tell someone the exact truth or failed to clear up a misunderstanding. And people worried about these things (seriously they did). No on bothers about these things anymore. The Seven deadly sins have been retired. Unless that is they want to invent a villain who goes around killing peole to prove a point. (That point being we are all lazy, gluttonous, vain, selfish, angry, greedy lustful sinners and - murdering us isn't a sin? I am going off point here.
My point is when you said 'I'm just having a bite to eat and then I'm heading back'. I thought you were on your own. Heading back to me. But you weren't alone were you? Oh no. You were not. You were keeping company with your evil woman hating oldest friend. So no not alone and not heading back to me - going to his. So when 3am rolled around and you still hadn't appeared on your side of the bed I rang you. Yes! I commited the ultimate sin. I rang my husband at 3am and said' where are you?' Only you didn't answer so I didn't get the chance. 5 seconds later you ring back. I can hear the sleep in your voice. So now we are both awake and 7 am is only around the corner. I guess we had better work on our communication. As in do more talking. Then maybe just maybe we will both manage to hear what the other is saying.