I think I just rambled

grave deskisions

I’ve been thinking about desks for a while. Flirting with an idea but never thinking about it seriously. (Ness, I can hear you ask. Are you really going to kick off the new year with a post about a DESK. The answer is yes. Yes, I am.)

HOW TO COPE WITH THE DAWN OF A NEW DESK by A Dedicated Writer and Bookworm

STEP ONE: PLANNED IMPULSIVENESS

If the impulse to google ‘desks’ seizes you one day, and your thumb hovers over the tempting ‘buy now’ button, it is important to stop – think about what you are doing. Make sure that the measurements are correct.

Grab a tape that is older than you (vital!) and measure your current desk, which is not actually a desk but a table. A winged table. (That you should decide to give up such a wonder says something about you. Perhaps it is unflattering, perhaps it is not. Either way, you don’t give it a thought. You are measuring.)

Once you’ve measured (and thought ‘huh that’s a bit taller than my current desk-winged-creature but what could possibly go wrong?’*) hit purchase and enter your details in.

You receive a confirmation email. Life is glorious.

*this will not have a pay off and the sense of foreboding will lead to nowhere. Life is cruel like that.

STEP TWO: IMPATIENTLY WAIT

Have a late night crisis about time and how while you want to have a new desk (and have told all your colleagues multiple times about how very excited you are) and wish for it’s arrival date to hasten! … it will eventually happen. Time is a stream and then will inevitably become now.

This is deep.

You are impressed with yourself.

STEP THREE: THE BLESSED MOMENT HAS DAWNED!

IT IS HEAVING WITH POTENTIAL.

Your desk has arrived. You hurry home. You take selfies with your desk. You get your Mum to take pictures of you and your desk (which is flat packed and is in an unassuming cardboard box. Never mind that, you see potential.)

You clear your room, ready to start. It shouldn’t be too hard.

… it is.

All visions of you being a strong and capable and mature adult wither in front of THE MANUAL. It looks like Russian. You can’t read Russian. (But you can say ‘vodka’ and ‘nyet’ which is, in the grand scale of things, not your greatest accomplishment.)

DEAD DREAMS. THE DEADEST.

You get everything out of the box. You put sticky notes on different boards and pieces of wood. Some fall off, like dead dreams and autumn leaves. You stare at them very hard. You look back at THE MANUAL.

You summon help.

STEP FOUR: SIT AND YOUR DESK AND MARVEL

The cavalry are glorious and also members of your family which is wonderful (there are heavy hints about purchasing coffee as a thank you. You should do this.)

And then it is done. The job is complete. The room is tidied and your Desk Of Dreams Where Worlds Will Be Birthed sits there neatly … waiting for you to fill the drawers and tap out words.

It was worth it, you decide. And then you sit down and write about desks – those new worlds can wait to be birthed another day.

before …
… after
Books, I think I just rambled, Life

2019 – it happened. also, still no grey hair

2019 wasn’t the easiest year I’ve ever lived, but it also was one full of richness and joy and growth. (Clearly, I should write greeting cards.)

Let’s do a little recap, shall we?

TEACHING // BREAST LUMPS // ILLNESS

in a different country, but still lovin’ the same authors

Teaching abroad was an adventure. I believed it was the right place for me, but I missed home and my family and my books. And financial stability.

I earned money by freelance work (read: Fiverr – ONE DAY I WILL TELL YOU ABOUT MY SHORT-LIVED CAREER), and with some support from home and half my rent paid by the school, I was able to live and teach English. I met so many lovely people there who really blessed me. I learned far more than I taught.

I returned home and started working in an office job. And then I discovered that I had a lump in my breast. (The two … are not connected.) It was a pretty dark month, that one. I decided to plan my funeral. I got as far as a room with a coffin and some chairs. (Don’t attend, by the way, it’s going to be completely boring.)

I had an ultrasound and it turns out I have fibre-something-something. I can’t spell or remember it, but apparently – and more importantly – it’s called a ‘breast mouse’. So. Brambly Hedge never had that sort of mice, lemme tell you- Okay. Let’s stop there.

According to the doctor, I’m okay, and my funeral plans were premature. But I can’t help but view my mammary glands as ticking time bombs.

And then there’s been other illness in the family and that’s been difficult and has sucked.

i saw this online and had to recreate it. … months later and it’s still HYSTERICAL

A Hawaiian snail went extinct. Other people and creatures have had a far more rubbish 2019 than I have. Truly. When I compare my life – I mean, I know we shouldn’t – but fried parsnips, it could be so much worse. I don’t have breast cancer. And the fact that I can type that feels like some kind of miracle for which I am so. grateful.

Through the dark times and the good, God has been there. Constant. I haven’t talked a lot about my faith on this blog. I’m worried that it will sound holier-than-thou and God knows I can’t live up to that.

But God can, and so I’ll write it here – 2019 wasn’t easy, but God was good, and greater than every hardship. Under everything, joy has dwelt like a hidden stream.

There will probably be harder years – this is life, after all, we aren’t promised an easy one – but we are promised that He is with us always. And that’s true for 2019.

BOOKS

What – you thought I wouldn’t put anything about books in here? PFFFFT. Of course I would. And will. So let me present you with the books that made the biggest impact on me this year …

*drum roll please*

  • Keep Going by Austin Kleon This changed my life. Truly – it kickstarted a better writing routine and helped me finish writing a book and plunge into other projects. The front cover alone (‘Keep Going’ it proclaims in big letters) I’ve put it on my desk and every time I see it, it reminds me to do just that: keep going. Funny, how two words can mean so much.
  • The Bible – New Living Translation I’ve grown up a strictly KJV kind of girl, but let me tell you this – reading it in modern English, stripped of thees and thous has made it a lot easier to read. You don’t have to think past the older English as much. I’ll always adore and go back to the KJV but man alive, the NLT has really made a difference.
  • The Lord of The Rings by J.R.R.Tolkien I know – I’d never read them before. But I have now and what touched me was the overall backdrop of it – of a world, an age that was fading away and how what was new was uncertain. I ended it in tears. Frodo is so much better in the books than on film. Also, the songs and poems? Dope. They’re dope.
  • Till We Have Faces by C. S Lewis I seldom find books in which I connect so strongly to a character – but I did with this one. I am going to have to read it again, I think. But more slowly this time. I rush when I enjoy a book, you see, gobbling it up instead of savoring it.

There are more, I’m sure. I’ve enjoyed many books this year. I haven’t been keeping my goodreads updated because I’ve lowkey got a conspiracy theory running about Amazon and how they’re probably gathering all the books I’ve read and items I’ve purchased and guessing what kind of a person I am and I don’t need that kind of stress okay?

I’ll give the information to Facebook, instead, via Instagram.

IN SUMMARY

Thank you so much for reading my blog. This is a place where I unload my brain and amuse myself (one of my besetting sins is that I find myself funny – even if the reality, and other people’s groans, point to the contrary.) and the fact that you’ve stuck around and read these posts? Thank you. You’re pretty awesome. Tell me how your year has gone? What’s the best book you’ve picked up? What’s the worst?

Next week brings a new year, and with it, new adventures.

See you there!

adventures and awesome fashion sense await!

*re the title of this post: if my hair goes grey it means that i’m one step closer to the wolf pelt hair i’ve been aiming for ever since i decided it would be awesome to have wolf-pelt hair. i haven’t actually pictured it clearly in my head but i think it would be amazing. Yes, I am a mature adult – why are you asking?

Books

the joys of a book buying ban

Since the 1st of December, I’ve been on a book buying ban. I know – what heinous heresy is this?! A bookworm refraining from buying books?

I have my reasons – I felt greedy, gorging myself on newly butchered trees. My bookworm soul was beginning to bear an unflattering resemblance to Jabba the Hutt. And yet I wasn’t reading the books. I had the excuses – I’m a queen at excuses – but the time had come when I couldn’t continue. There were no more excuses left.

My soul was burning with guilt.

It was a time for a change.

I’m on books 7 and 8 out of 45 books which I’ve owned but never read. (And … I own more than 45 unread books. I think. I haven’t counted because quite frankly, I feel ashamed. Why ’45’? Because it’s a start and ’50’ was rather daunting.)

Here’s a bit of a status update: I’ve read some books which I’ve bought recently, and books which I bought years and years ago.

And let me tell you, I am finding gems.

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis left me crying on my bedroom floor – and really confused because I knew that there was analogy somewhere. Pro Tip: Don’t read books late at night, when you’re reading fast because you want to know what happens next and thennnnn you’ve accidentally missed the meaning of the whole book because of a really important paragraph. Or three.

The Outlaws of Sherwood by Robin McKinley wrapped me up with a warm blanket of nostalgia – Robin Hood was my childhood hero. Honest to goodness … books and movies about him truly shaped who I was and how I viewed the world.

(And it still does.)

And I loved it … and then THEY ALL GET SENT OUT TO A CRUSADE AND BASICALLY I’M GOING TO ASSUME THEY ALL DIED OF PLAGUE.

(I don’t care if it was the Third Crusade, Suzannah. I can just picture them in my mind. And they’re all dead. As doornails. And dodos. And diplodocuseseses. [diplodocusi?])

And other books … I’ve finally cracked open that Christian fantasy that I bought many moons ago. It’s fabulous. FAB-U-LOUS. How did I not know that this existed???!!! HOW DID I NOT PICK IT UP BEFORE???? I’m on page 95 so my opinions could change but I think this is going to be glorious.

GLORIOUS.

Why?

  1. It’s a sort of Helen of Troy retelling
  2. IT HAS A CASSANDRA TYPE CHARACTER
  3. It’s dramatic
  4. SO. DRAMATIC
  5. It is feeding my soul
  6. It’s putting a gleam in my eye

“Nay. Nay, m’lord!” She rushed to his side. “Never will you be anything less than the magnificent man and warrior you’ve always been.”

These kind of quotes just … ugh!!! Reading them gives a spring to my step and a chuckle in my cheek. (Let’s just pretend that’s a thing.) I’m so very glad that it stayed on my shelves all through the years.

Also, I’m reading a Western about a centaur.

This book buying ban has been the best thing for my bookworm-ness and my bank account. And for brilliant alliteration.

Ah-hem.

read the rules and follow my book ban right here.

Life

um, why aren't i a superhero yet?

I think I’ve put my finger on a problem.

We live in an age of instant gratification – we want things and we want things now dammit! (WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN DELIVER THIS TOMORROW? THE DAY AFTER YOU SAY?! THAT’S TERRIBLE! HOW DARE YOU! WHAT ERA DO YOU LIVE IN – THE STONE AGE?)

For example:

I would like to have Project If published, and a trilogy of Our Intrepid Heroine professionally edited with sparkling new front covers – all ready to be released into the world.

I’d like to be so physically fit that if a vine suddenly appeared before me, I could swing on it and not fall off.

I’d like to speak several languages. Perfectly.

I’d like to be able say: why YES, I do think that the economy is going downhill. Just compare it to the statistics of 1970 when blah blah said blah blah in blah paragraph two … just like Churchill predicted.

I’d like to have a blog with regular posts and maybe a newsletter full of HILARIOUS doings.

AND I WANT IT ALL RIGHT. NOW.

I’m blaming Amazon Prime – it’s given me unrealistic expectations.

Begrudgingly, I’m learning what I’ve known for some time but haven’t wanted to accept: that life is spent in waiting periods and in steady step-by-step-keep-going days.

I know – it would be so much easier to have a ‘working montage’ to upbeat music:

DA DAAA HERE IS NESS TYPING DA DAAAA HERE’S ALL THE CUPS OF TEA SHE’S CONSUMED AND LOOK HOW THEY’VE BUILT UP AND GROWN MOLDY DA DAAA HERE’S HER SLAPPING HER MANUSCRIPT ONTO AN EDITOR’S DESK DA DA DAAAA HERE’S HER BOOK BEING MADE DA DA DAAA HERE’S READERS ALL OVER THE WORLD READING HER BOOK DA DAADADAADADADA HERE’S NESS LAUGHING HUMBLY AT HER ENORMOUSLY WELL-RECEIVED AND INTELLECTUALLY STUNNING WORK-OF-ART.

But alas, this is not how life works. Or at least, this is not how my life works. Yours may be different. (1, TELL ME YOUR SECRETS and 2, HOW DARE YOU.)

I didn’t win NaNoWriMo – I tried, but as a movie once put it: life … finds a way [to stop you writing.]

Is that an excuse? Probably. But I started a book and I intend to finish it because a) it’s funny [well. To me] and b) it deals with something I’ve been thinking about for a while.

I told myself ‘ah, just put in a few 10k word days – it’ll be done … no problem!’ because doing it in big chunks is so much better than a little perseverance and elbow grease.

(AND ALSO I HAVE VERY REALISTIC EXPECTATIONS AND TOTALLY WRITE 10 THOUSAND WORDS IN A SINGLE DAY ALLLLL THE TIME.)

(Also – imagine if it was elbow geese. Hahahahahaha.)

It’s December and a new year is dawning.

I’m going to try and be patient – with myself, with my projects, with life, with … everything. I’m going to try and learn that big things happen because of small actions carried out every day.

I’m going to edit Project If and I’m going to round-house kick the frustration that wails: BUT MUUUUMMM WHY CAN’T MY BOOK BE PERFECT STRAIGHT AWAAAAAYYYY.

(Because your first draft was trash, Jimmy*! TRASH!!)

*I have no idea who Jimmy is.

**also round-house kicks would leave me on the floor with a pulled muscle. No. With SEVERAL pulled muscles.

Characters, I think I just rambled, On Writing

writing wrestling – failure, me, and my characters

Of all the scenes I’ve ever written, there’s one that stands particularly vivid in my memory. It’s part of a trilogy that I wrote and the character – Nefna – is just having an awful time. Not an ‘arghhh I forgot that my tea was cold and also this isn’t my tea this is old mouthwash and WHAT HAVE I DONE’ day. But a ‘I HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN FOR THE WRONG PERSON AND I AM GOING TO DIE but on the plus side the snow’s dope’ day.

She’s kneeling on some flagstones and her blood is staining the snow and it’s just SO dramatic and terrible. I think I may have had tears in my eyes; it felt very real and vivid. One of those magic moments that happens when you truly connect to the story you’re weaving.

But despite that, that’s something that happens to Nefna. It’s not her fault. It’s just a huge misunderstanding that she’s going along with because of VERY VALID REASONS. It’s not a personal failure. (THE JUSTICE SYSTEM AND SOMEONE’S EYESIGHT – THOSE HAS FAILED HER.) but she hasn’t.

And I think, that I don’t let my characters fail as much as I should. As someone who hates failure – I mean, who doesn’t? and takes it to a dramatic level …

PAUSE FOR EXPLANATION:

There was this one time that I was doing this work and I did it WRONG and basically it was awful and no good. Did I react maturely?

NO. You bet your sainted peanut I DID NOT.

I ran up the garden and climbed a tree. And considered a life of nomadic Tarzan-ing but with more clothes and FAR LESS MUSCLE. And so much shame and guilt.

That’s me. And yes, that was young me. But my gosh, I still do that inside.

If anyone else fails – you bet I’ll be there, thrusting both hands out to help them up. I can’t bear to see people fail. I can’t bear it because when they do it, I feel it. And it sucks. Because it does.

I think I have this issue with my characters – I can’t bear to let them fail. I can’t let them because it’s painful and killmenow to write. I haven’t noticed properly until quite recently, but I can see how it has seeped into my subconscious and oozed out of my fingertips.

(Also. That analogy was icky. I beg your pardon.)

But I think I’m going to let them fail a little more. And perhaps – be kinder to myself when I fail as well. After all, it’s pretty prideful to expect constant perfection of myself. Or, like, any perfection.

We’re flawed and we fail but we’ve got God and so it’s okay.

And my characters … they’re going to fail, and it will hurt and I won’t enjoy writing it. But perhaps it will help me a little as well. I wouldn’t say writing is therapy, but I would say that I look back and see myself reflected. Glinting at me through the sentences. A little piece here and there.

I’ve always thought that I was disassociated – even divorced – from my stories. That they and I were different things entirely. Ha! But I WAS WRONG.

I look back and see – hopes, dreams, bad spelling – all of it.

And maybe I’ll look back and see failure and won’t be horrified. Won’t want to bury myself in a pit of dark duvets. Or travel to the tip-top of a high mountain and be a monk, looking serene and untroubled and having my meals delivered by an elaborate system of pulleys that I’ve already have-planned.

So, here’s to failure.

To forgiving and learning and dusting yourself off and continuing on regardless.