Happy Talk . . .

My nine year old,wise beyond his years , gave me one of his fabulous bear hugs today saying ' It's a sad fact that none of us can be around for ever'. I could have cried. Yet instead, I took (another) deep breath and said 'That's why we have to live our lives being happy and loving each other, Max. That's all we really have to do.'

I have always known that I wanted my children to be happy. My way of doing that does not involve elaborate showers of gifts, expensive experiences or the like. I surround myself with the people I love and great friends who have similar aims for their children. Occasionally I hear of issues friends have with other families desperately trying to up-manouveur within a school community by inviting every child in the class to a birthday party on a space rocket with i-pads in the goody bags - I'm exaggerating but I'm sure I had a few parents panicking for a moment or two. It can all get a bit crazy out there, but it really doesn't have to.

We all want a happier world, where our children are safe, content and healthy. I want my children to feel loved and be happy. Their happiness should be a contendedness gained from their demeanour, their sense of self and their relationship with the world, not quick fixes brought with gifts, expensive holidays or other more egocentric pursuits. I want them to know they are loved, I want them to swim in the sea, find the joy in simple pleasures, make healthy friendships, read great books, love easily, speak out against injustice and live kind lives. I strive to teach them to take what they need, give back what they don't need and share what they can. With every step, I will do my best to make that happen.

My youngest completed a form in the library today which asked him to list his name,his age and to complete the sentence 'I like ... '
He simply wrote '... happy times' and melted the hearts of the two rather day-worn librarians before him. It's all anyone really wants. We just need to put a little love in our hearts (Beth Orton's line, not mine)
Occasionally, I see a glimpse of the kind,loving, honest young men they will one day become. It warms my heart. I know that my children are happy when they are relaxed, enjoying something they have planned to do with me such as play in the paddling pool, walk in the woods, watch a film and are equally happy with a surprise trip to a play area or the cinema. They are happy playing with the rabbit in the garden, curled up with a good book, listening to music, dancing in the sitting room . . . I could go on. It's just all about balance.

So, let's take that deep breath, close our eyes and take that leap of faith.

Mahatma Ghandi wisely said 'Be the change you want to see in the world.' I live by that powerful phrase with tiny, tiny baby steps. I know I can't combat world hunger, sea pollution, stop wars or fix the big issues all on my own. I'm not powerful enough. Yet in little ways, we can all take pride in how we make less of an impact globally. But I'll save that debate for another post.

Happiness can be derived from the tiniest positive changes we make to our own lives and the lives of others. By living our lives kindly and with love, by trying to be better with every step we make, we can't fail.

Maybe, by being the change we want to see in the world, in time, like ripples on a pond, our happiness and the happiness of all our children will grow.

Time and Love - Christmas Gifts worth their Weight in Gold

The month of December saw a cornucopia of gatherings, each one momentous in its own way. I had been dreading the enormity of the season, how I could survive a significant birthday on my own and create a special christmas for my boys as a single mum, how I could ensure the days unwrapped as layers of reassuring old traditions and exciting new ones.

My 40th birthday was spent with dear friends in a rather lovely Sheffield hotel and spa, starting with raised glasses in their champagne bar and ending with room service as we all devoured chunky chips on my bed at 2am. My friends are my chosen family and feel like sisters to me. I'm lucky to have their love and support and hope in time I give as much as I receive.

The school term ended with lively class parties (Now 83 is etched in my aural memory forever) christmas lunches and even saw Father Christmas making a guest appearance. The staff de-tinselled their classrooms and put away the tree for another year as the children made their way home on that last day. We all felt suitably festive after performing as a 'teacher choir' to the great surprise and delight of the children and parents at the annual Carol concert.

The last few days have been a genuinely happy time and the look on my boys' faces as they told me they'd had 'the best Christmas ever' as we sat back after a Boxing Day bike ride was worth so much. When they are visiting their Dad I miss them terribly and count the hours until they come back home, but in time I hope they will settle in to this new way of living. By listening to the needs of my two precious boys, I do hope they had a happy Christmas. I know I have had the calmest and most pleasant Christmas in a very long time.

Being alone in a room full of people resonates with me still, but with the kindness and love of those closest to me, I know me and my boys have now come through the other side of a particularly difficult time.

Life goes on. Change happens. It's how you change to meet those new challenges that makes or breaks you. I still find myself locked in old memories but in time, my new happier memories will be the ones that make me smile.

 This month I discovered I was not a single mum at all, nor was I on my own. I learned that I exist within the love and support of my friends and family - even my work colleagues have proved that they are just a whisper away - I just need to find the courage to ask for help. My friends and family gently pulled me along with them this season and we spent time together eating, drinking, dancing, playing and building those new traditions we will now enjoy year on year.

More Bubbles and Less Troubles: A pre-Birthday Wish

During this particularly busy half term holiday, the boys and I have barely stopped. Part accident, part design, I have found it necessary to fill every waking moment being with my two offspring. As occurs with alarming frequency these days, I found myself awakened by a brutal slapping across the face by the pale and disinterested ghost of my own mortality.

As my two boys' buddies arrived to stay earlier this week, I caught my breath as three young men cheered a greeting and fell through my front door. In an instant I adopted the role of  embarrassing auntie, reminiscing at length about the speed at which time has passed, how tall the boys had grown and how growling bass lines had replaced the choirboy voices of times past. Instead of measuring my own increases in height alongside theirs as tradition dictates, the opposite is now being tracked on my door frame as my spine depletes and  treasured extra millimetres are gone for ever, while the once tiny children, nephews, nieces and 'little' friends now tower above me, fuelled in part by the entire contents of my fridge and pantry. I am, it would seem, no longer part of the giddy race through the firsts of teens, twenties or even thirties. A parallel party is in progress for my children and their friends and I am not invited. The abyss is merely widening and deepening. I will never get back.
No one told me I would cycle uphill to 40 then freewheel downhill evermore - no more opportunity to grow in to my adult self, only shrinking away from that which I hoped I would one day become. Some choices are irreversible and the damage is done. Yet the alternative is unthinkable and I will enjoy every minute for those of my friends who never got the chance to get this far. The rest of my life is a book unwritten and so I must pick up my pen and start plotting again!

Since my thirty fifth birthday, I have been hiding from what effectively is to become my middle age. Next month, my fortieth birthday will be celebrated as only I know how - with pink champagne, chocolate, my fabulous girlfriends and a great deal of laughter. As much of this year has been severely lacking in points one and four, my dearest friends have ordered a get together involving fluffy white robes, various pampering treatments and a few glasses of bubbly. With shiny toes of many colours, we will share a few bottles of bubbly, eat chocolates, dance, laugh, discuss our next steps, distance ourselves from our past mishaps and disasters, eat more chocolates, share our innermost thoughts and dreams during a few more bottles of bubbly, then return home to continue on with the precarious route through the rest of our lives.
While desparately braking at every turn, scraping my new patent pumps in a bid to slow down the ride, I will continue to live every minute to the full.

Life is short and so am I.

Today's lesson is merely to keep on and keep smiling.

What else is there?

Education, Learning and Living Life to the Full

Two articles in this weekend's Guardian newspaper caught my eye - both on the themes of literacy and education, two of my passions. One was the continuing story of Malala Yousafzai, a 15 year old schoolgirl and blogger from Mingora, Pakistan who was shot as she returned home from a day at school - shot a point blank range by the Taliban for daring to pursue an education as a muslim girl. She is recovering after life saving surgery after being air lifted to the UK to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham. This young woman has shared her experiences through a regular blog for the BBC in which she not only promotes education for girls but also advises local authorities on the matter, but was shot by the Taliban for 'promoting secularism'. The Taliban have threatened to kill Malala if she returns to Pakistan. Muslim women and girls have been photographed with 'I am Malala' banners, showing support of this brave girl who intends to return home and is currently studying for her exams.

Frank Cottrell Boyce fears that children's love of books is at risk because of the way they are educated in schools. Reading for fun should be the emphasis he claims.

When I worked in East London some years ago, my aim was to educate students working through a 'broad and balanced curriculum' to help them become literate, numerate and hopefully live a balanced life where reading for enjoyment would be a part of it. Children learn best when their learning is interesting and fun, so regardless of whether I was teaching phonics or number bonds, the lessons had to engage the pupils.

However, what was central to my teaching and what was central to the message received by my children on an almost daily basis was the notion that Education brought Knowledge, Understanding and Power: the KUP (sp) of Education could bring the students purposeful and happy lives should they wish to work hard enough for it.

Older students needed to know that learning had a purpose. For some it was enough to enjoy a text or love writing their own stories. Yet, for others,in order to escape the cycle of poverty they lived in, learning was their way out - the key to a successful future.

These two stories in Saturday's Guardian were a stark contrast between two worlds and views on education.

School has a purpose first and foremost to give our students the tools they need to learn and be successful. If taught well, students will also develop their citizenship - becoming moderate, tolerant, kind, caring, intelligent and creative adults of the future.

Frank Boyce would do well to remember what good educators do best. We educate through every which medium we can to meet the needs of our students. I'm sure if Frank Boyce were to spend any amount of time in a good school, he would be reassured that we read for fun and children enjoy their lessons. Yet, it is sobering to remember that many children in our world walk  through deserts or danger just to sit in on hard benches or dusty floors to listen to someone who may be able to change their lives for the better.

All is not as it seems ...

Life has a tendency to amble on in its own sweet way while its participants frantically scrabble in the dirt to keep on track. My last year has been testimony to that. Plans are made, opportunities are grabbed with both hands, yet while life is experienced to the full, I often amaze myself that I manage to move forward with my life at all! Treading water feels like all there is some days, yet from time to time, I reflect on my present and realise that, perhaps, my life is moving in the right direction after all.

Over the last twelve months, I've turned my back on one life and braved the new. New in so much that I have embraced a new way of living my life - independently and by putting myself and my children first, allowing us the time and energy to nurture relationships with friends and family. Allowing myself to move on.

Teaching at one time seemed to be an avenue closed to me, yet as my health improved and the fog cleared, I saw that teaching, writing and being a mum to my boys was everything I needed.

And so, I have moved forward. My own teaching career and writing career running tandem, I am workshopping again and writing at every opportunity.

 Recently, at a residential weekend in Essex, the students sparked with ideas and enthusiasm as we used Driftwood and Amethyst as a stimulus for children's own writing.
I saw myself in so many faces as we ran through a forest where benevolent Mother Nature attempted to scoop them up and keep them safe, as we stumbled along dark cobbled back streets to a puppet shop, where Zauberer, as only true evil can, stole their childhoods and trapped them, ever after. All without leaving the workshop floor.

As with many students, their planning and talking skills were sophisticated, wry and funny, yet when we talked about writing these young writers struggled to translate these ideas to the page. All that was required was the scaffolding, the guiding, the molding of th thoughts

We spent our day building characters, settings, plans before weaving together a rich tapestry of tales, soon to be published for the school as an anthology inspired by Driftwood and Amethyst and the imaginations of some promising young writers.

How I quite found myself sitting with such an enthusiastic group of young writers discussing my first novel, is almost beyond me, as life hasn't always been so generous. But by having a little faith in myself and surrounding myself with those who believe in me, life can now be enjoyed rather than merely endured. 

Olympic Dreams and Daydream Believers

As I write, the Olympics are in full swing. I have been swept along by the giddy rate with which Team GB have maintained a daily triumph of medals after medals - more silver and gold each day and as a Yorkshire girl, I have been rather proud to tally the number of medals this fair county has accrued. I know at one point, Yorkshire had more medals than Australia, though I didn't like to boast to my friends over there, instead maintaining a dignified, muted pride occasionally hinted at through various social media updates.

Watching these dedicated athletes displaying their glinting discs so proudly, I've been considering the time and persistance, the sweat and the emotional hurdles they must have gone through before achieving this level of excellence so desperately strived for. Note that I say strive, not crave or desire. Semantics matter.

How many other great swimmers, gymnasts and athletes started out with them so many years ago? How many others attended the Saturday morning swimming sessions at an early age and raced along side them, showing the same kind of talent? Those who succeed are the ones who keep trying. The Olympics are evidence of this to anyone who may still be looking for an easy route to success.

Craving and desiring are all very well, but they belong in the land of daydreams. While I spent many years wanting to be a published author, craving the buzz of seeing my name in print within the pages of a magazine or newspaper, I found myself no nearer my goals as time ticked along.

For years, I had filled notebooks and the most elegant of hardback journals with poetry, musings, diary entries and short stories, rarely sharing them and only to the most select of audieces, namely my doting parents and my ever enthusiastic grandmothers. Sharing with them was my safe option, as I knew they liked my work - they loved it in fact, often exclaiming that I should send it off and one day we would drink champagne at the first of many book launches. But that was their job. my parents and grandparents were wired to love my stories, to encourage and motivate me, for without them I may falter and give up on my dream.
Yet,deep inside I always knew that until I sent my work to agents and publishers, how would I ever know if my work was really any good?

By stepping outside and allowing others to see us at this most vulnerable of times as we try to succeed in something that means so much to us, we then step closer to our goal. One step braver, one step closer.

As Olympians bring home the fruits of their labours, I see many around me inspired to step outside and be seen - cycling, running, swimming - one step braver and one step closer to being who they want to be.
Not everyone wants to achieve such levels of greatness, but by being inspired and allowing these rolemodels to help us come closer to our own goals, we can all learn from their dedication and commitment.

So be brave and be bold. We must let ourselves be inspired. That's what makes life so interesting. Acting on our ambitions separates the brave and the bold from the daydream believers. As life ebbs away, I want to be able to say that I acted on my ambitions. I don't want to say I was just a fabulous daydreamer.

Conflict, Plot Holes and Loose Ends: All in a Day's Work!

I read with interest 'Don't Lose the Plot' in August's Writing Magazine. Lorena Goldsmith's article outlined many difficulties writers face when developing their manuscript from a basic outline to the fully formed manuscript.
Within the article, Lorena writes about weak conflicts and contrivance, two issues I am struggling with in my latest children's novel - my prequel to Driftwood and Amethyst, currently known as Before Driftwood (working title).
I, too, am constantly striving to ensure that the conflicts faced by my two main characters, Holly and Ethan, are believable and uncontrived - within the story's universe of course. I so hate it in novels when a character  suddenly stumbles upon a hidden trap door or finds a book with the hidden key inside within five seconds of entering the mansion's library. I strive to weave a plausible storyline where plot points seem to occur organically.
Sometimes, my story will spin out itself and the troubles faced by my characters come naturally out of prior situations, but it is when I find myself needing to arrive at plot point D while languishing at point B with no real sense of direction, that situations can seem contrived and have to be heavily edited if not axed at a later editing stage! I love to hear writers who find this process happens naturally for them, but I suspect that blood, sweat and tears are shed at some point in the story-writing process. It's never that easy!
In my case, I currently have Ethan needing to be caught in a situation he will not be able to escape from but where Holly will find him, unaware that her efforts to save him are futile. It is a situation they have learned other children have been caught up in, yet in their attempts to solve the problem the boy has become the latest victim. I have outlined the plot, sketching over this, and after writing the section when Holly realises where Ethan has gone, I have leapt a few chapters and am currently writing from the point where Holly has found him. I have no idea how he became trapped. Maybe, my weekend outing to Derbyshire with my dear Dad will inspire me. He knows the area inside out and is prepared to show me landscape features similar to those stumbled upon by my main characters. I'm hoping that walking in their footsteps, so to speak, will help the story evolve or maybe this will remain a problem for some time to come. For now I have no idea how I will get from A to C. B just is not happening for me yet.
I'm learning that I can't always write from beginning to end, as I have done previously, in fear of the story creaking and spluttering along with unnecessary fluff to move the reader along.
My writing style is starting to resemble building a tapestry, section by section, with no particular order, but in sections, with layers of colour being added to complement each other. This way, I'm finding that if I am struggling with the chronology of a story, particularly when more than one character is central to the story, I am writing one character's journey section, then perhaps flick to another section. However, this is within a detailed outline within which I've not yet worked out the cause and effect. A little messy at this stage, but the edit is where the picture becomes clear. (I hope!)
I write on my lap top chronologically, then as soon as the structure becomes more complicated, I focus on one line of the story, writing in my notebook, in seperate files on my laptop, on post-it notes and diary pages, then compile them each week as they find their way.
I'm not even sure I enjoy this rather fragmented framework as it is building, but it certainly allows me time and space to develop my plots and strengthen my characters' motivations behind their actions.
I love to see the full story emerge and the twists and turns finally come together, yet at this point it seems such a long way away.
Lorena suggests writing a very detailed synopsis of the story. When I have my first draft, I will certainly do this, in a bid to see the story outline in full. By sharing it with a few key readers, their responses will guide me on the next edit. Her guide to their responses should stand me in good stead:
      
If the reader says:                                                My next steps are to . . .

Is that it?                                                             Suspend disbelief and
                                                                            strengthen story
Give me a break!                                                Make more realistic,
                                                                            convincing
But what happens?                                             Get to the plot sooner

Hang on, but you said ...                                     Make story consistent

But what happened to ...                                     Tie up loose ends

Right. I'd better get back to Ethan - he's trapped deep below ground and time's running out!

Writing the Novel - A Seminar by Millie Johnson & Victoria Howard

Attending a seminar run by Millie Johnson and Victoria Howard a couple of weeks ago in Barnsley, South Yorkshire was, for me, a chance to indulge in an afternoon meeting favourite authors, like-minded creatures and partake in a little complementary afternoon tea. It became, in short, nothing less than a series of lightbulb moments.

With newly purchased novels and a goody bag of booklets,magazines and a delicately packaged silver bookmark, we were ready to begin.

The afternoon was split in to two sessions; each author giving a talk on their own distinct process of writing, then the methods they employed to achieve publication - in the 'traditional sense' rather than the self publication route.

Millie's seminar: 'Writers Write (Dreamers Procrastinate)' took us through a history of Millie's career from her early days as a copy writer for card companies, a divorce, house-move and years of night time writing sessions as her children slept. She shared with us the reality of writing two or three books before an agent takes you on and the frustrations felt if pursuing publishers fruitlessly. We were warned away from that avenue and told that an agent will get the work for you, find your deal, rates and support your fledgling career. They work very hard for their 15%. It was all starting to sound rather complicated.

"Writing isn't easy or everyone would be doing it. The first 2000 words are a doddle. It's the next 118,000 words which are slightly more difficult."

Stephen King

Millie gave everyone hope as she told us how she worked hard and often through the night while working a day job as well, but with a small plan to write 250 words a day, we could achieve 91,000 words in a year. A novel! Of course that's the first draft, then comes the fun part, the edit.

"It doesn't matter what routine you've got, as long as you've got one."

Millie Johnson

This has been a long standing issue for me, having the time to write, but I had been setting myself the goal of 1000 words a day, then feeling frustrated when the targets weren't reached. Already, a plan was forming to get back in to the habit of writing every day.

"Discipline is a learned behaviour, not a natural one."

Millie took us through examples of her own writing and then a few "How not to's" to illustrate her methods when developing pace, character and tension.

"Keep the pace fast. Every chapter should progress the story and not be mere padding."

We broke for a rather pleasant afternoon tea: cuppa and a scone with all the trimmings and tiny portions of every cream cake imaginable. Thankfully, I was in the company of like-minded individuals and everyone had a few trolly trips to sample the varied delights.

My friend and I met with Jo Robinson who is a journalist with the Sheffield Star and before we knew it we had been interviewed and photographed (much to my horror - but if I make it in to the feature it will be a little welcome publicity for Driftwood & Amethyst!)

I thought Victoria's seminar would be much more about romance fiction. Initially, I squirmed at this after recently being subjected to book one and half of book two of Fifty Shades (I know - I gave up!), but apparently that is erotic fiction. However, while she currently writes romance fiction in the main, she quickly clarified that her seminar would apply to all fiction genres and would also touch on the romantic genre.

Victoria encouraged us all to read, read, read - for fun, for analysis, for awareness of modern and classic writers in your preferred genre.

She was quick to explain that her and Millie plan very differently, write very differently and have trodden different paths to achieve traditional publication. She was keen to point out that there is no one formula to creating a novel - if there was, someone would have developed a computer program which would write the novel for you after your input of name, place, plot etc.

Victoria spoke often about being an observer at all times, taking notes of interesting little moments as each day unfolds - these may come to nothing but the may start a germ of an idea for a later novel.

Victoria outlined her main points as follows:

• In order to plot, you must have conflict - something bad has to happen.
• Reveal a twisting plot slowly, with the stakes high and the end always in doubt.
• Start with a bang - something that will hook your reader in to turning the pages.
• Build tension, and then offer a few resting moments, then add complication after complication, until all appears to be lost.
• What arises in one scene should cause something to happen in the next, so that your story flows. Ifit doesn't, then your story becomes episodic. Think of conflict in a scene as the cause and the character's reaction as the effect that the conflict has on her./him.
• When all seems lost, your main characters should refuse to give in and then launch their final try/attack and emerge triumphant (perhaps?)
• Satisfy your reader with a solid ending resolving any mystery. 

Victoria went in to much detail about character development, which for me, is where her seminar became particularly useful. Her main points were as follows:

• character development makes or breaks a novel ( I'm well aware that I've given up on many books when I've not believed in or cared about the characters)
• Every character should have something personal at stake in the emerging conflict, something that motivates them to achieve their goal
• Their external goal drives the plot and is usually something obvious to the reader such as seeking revenge or finding a child etc
• Their internal goal is usually an emotional goal and something every reader could relate to, such as winning respect or approval. This reveals your main characters' weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
• On that note, every character should have a vulnerability, a moral code (something they would never do) and should evolve through the course of the novel.
• Names should reflect the character and not jar with it and be appropriate for the time period and style.

Her section on tension was equally as interesting and has informed my more recent writing over the last few weeks.As tension is what 'hooks the reader' we were told, it is of paramount importance that you get the following details right:

• A time limit 
• Emotional tension
• Dialogue written well can cause tension
• Pace - a well written novel abbs and flows
• With each crisis point the story speeds up
• Short choppy sentences with active verbs signal tension while long, meandering sentences imply a leisurely pace.
• Sexual tension exacerbates tension - what is this relationship?

Victoria's thoughts on developing a setting for a story:

• changing a location moves on a story and develops pace. 
• planning the location references is key
• draw a map if necessary or take photos to keep a real location true or an imagined location realistic.
• let the setting be explored through the characters' eyes. Show don't tell.

We were taken through examples of character sheets, story planning ideas and were treated to a very generous Q&A session at the end.

Many concerns were raised and answered sensitively, positively yet with a realistic note. We were told that not all writers became novelists, not all writers wanted to publish more than one book, yet some of us, those of us who were prepared to do the 'graft', the hard work necessary and were persistent - with every novel - until taken on by an agent, there would be a place for our books on the shelves of bookshelves everywhere.

Writing is certainly not a soft option,we were told. No fluffy pink stories of publication here.We were warned of the shortfalls, the late nights, the constant re-edits, redrafting and the alarming timescales for publications sometimes. Tempered with the early low incomes to be expected until you have a few published books under your belt and the warning that writing may only ever be your second job, Millie and Victoria pulled no punches. The audience sat in silence as the seminar drew to a close.

"But if that hasn't put you off", Millie Johnson smiled, "you might just make it." 

N.B - A Selection of Bookshelf Musts - (I was on eBay the minute I arrived home from the seminar to purchase On Writing by Stephen King as this one was mentioned throughout)

• On Writing - Stephen King
• The 38 Most Common Fiction Mistakes - Jack M Bickham
• Goal, Motivation, Conflict - Debra Dixon
• Conflict, Action, Suspense - William Noble 

TheTimes they are a-Changing . . .

Three years ago, after an accident stopped my teaching career in its tracks, I needed a different focus - something to do when my health was okay, all my Mum activities and chores were done or I was just soooo ready to do something else just for my own sanity -  a change from ironing and playing shop!

And so, I began writing a children's novel. Last year, my children's novel, Driftwood and Amethyst, was published and I began promoting it around local schools and bookshops. This blog has been following this process alongside my recovery and more recently  follows my return to work through voluntary and supply teaching and the continuation of my writing. Finding a way to work again after so long away from the chalkface is certainly a challenge in itself and my blog charts how I manage being a mum, a writer, a returning-to-work teacher and an eternal optimist!

Supply teaching is proving to be a real baptism by fire as working with a class of children who don't know you for half a day or a full day is very different to managing your own class over one academic year. It just takes a little more of my fiesty side and a no nonsense approach, yet it still can be very rewarding as students very quickly learn who they trust and respect, which is conveyed through the way they respond to you and want to share their own worries or successes with you.

Today has been a real whirlwind of Rumble in the Jungle, poetry and rhymes, number lines and addition challenges and playground games. A day full of chanting, reciting, story telling, acting, role play and good fun outside on a rare school field with cool downs under the shady trees before home time. Funnily enough, the behaviour management gets easier as the children find that by towing the line they get to have a great time!

Picking up my children from a friend,who'd kindly offered to watch them after school for half an hour until I got home, was another fabulous first today. The boys quite like the fact that Mum's a teacher 'again' and just want me to teach at their school. That would be nice!

So now, after such a lovely day, I think I will focus on The Plot this evening for an hour or so. The writing I've done today has inspired my socks off. It may not be so great when I go back to it, but at least it's down and ready for the next step. The edit.

I'm always invigorated by the writing I manage to do, as writing is not the easiest way to spend my days. I often liken writing to going to the gym - I warm up begrudgingly, I work out oblivious to the passing of time, I cool down again, amazed I managed to focus for any amount of time. But so glad I did. So glad.

With less opportunity to write now I'm starting back at work, my writing time will be much more precious. I welcome this next chapter of my life with open arms. Getting back in to teaching has been a long time coming and a fightworth fighting for, I'm sure of that. Supply teaching will afford me the financial security I need and the rest time I must allow myself as I get back up to speed. My writing will continue alongside my time in school, be that part time or full time. I write to inspire children and I teach to inspire children so it's all good.

Onwards and upwards once more. Onwards and upwards!

Less time to write = more distractions? Read on . . .

When setting myself the task of completing a rough first draft of a new children's novel I'm working on this week, I had not envisaged the chaos that would ensue. With the house to myself for once, the notion of what my writing week would be has proved very different from actual events.

Waking up this morning, I felt invigorated after an uninterrupted night's sleep. It did not include the usual "Mum, I need the toilet!" or ""Can I get in with you, Mum?" or "Move over Mum, I'm coming in cause my feet are freezing!"

My darling boys are away for the week on a boys' holiday with their Dad and I decided to utilise this seemingly free week by writing each day.

First, I had to gently turn down the many kind offers of day time cups of tea and shopping trips from my close network of girls who keep a watchful eye on me and have been largely the reason I am getting back to my old self - a little older, a little wiser but less creaky and raring to go! Explaining my plans to write each day, they agreed to be on call and are spending evenings with me this week as we work our way through endless popcorn, old films, chocolate and cups of tea. It'll be just like the old days. I'm hopelessly devoted to my boys (show me a mum who isn't) so I know it's gonna be a toughie being away from them. But by keeping busy, my week all alone will be productive too.

Then, I made the leap of faith to join a supply teaching agency. After consultation with my lovely doctor, she agreed that as my health is now much improved, I should take tentative first steps back to work. I've been so keen to get back in to teaching at the first possible opportunity and I am very lucky to have supply teaching as an option. I don't know many professions other than teaching and nursing that offer this facility to those getting back in to work. Particularly after a long break, this seemed the perfect way to test the waters. I was expecting to work maybe once or twice a week over the next couple of months and gradually ease back in to teaching mode. Immediately, the agency booked me in for a day later this month. Eek!  

So, back to today and my writing retreat. (Ahem.) Getting up at 7.30am was a luxury of sorts and I enjoyed my tea and toast in front of BBC Breakfast. No Power Rangers on loop. Lovely.
No phone call from Susan from Supply Superheroes (not the real names obviously) and so the day would be my own. Bliss. 

Dressed and seated at the laptop I was raring to go. Unfortunately, I had not counted on my brain being the butterfly it always is. Sitting down at 9.00 was a wonderful feeling. Coffee in hand, I sipped occasionally, rereading the work I'd done so far. I felt uninspired but with my notebook handy, I read through notes hoping to find something that would kick start my day. 

By 10.00 I had written very little. I moved over to the sofa with my notebook and tried to write from there but struggled to move on the section of the story where Sophie needs to travel down to London on a rickety old bus. Nothing. I wrote a conversation between the two main characters which fell flat. I doodled. I described the seats of the coach and listed some passengers but it just was not going anywhere. I refrained from practising the piano. I made another coffee.

By 10.30 I had abandoned the draft of The Plot and after a rather wobbly fifteen minutes when I considered getting the train to North Yorkshire and surprising the family, I found myself happily re-writing a children's story I'm developing with an illustrator friend.
This project had once been a rather simple [5-7yr target age range] picture book yet had always felt like I needed to do more with it and so it languished in my writing bookbag until today. Before I knew it, I was reading through the original, giggling at my rather sweet yet hopeless illustration ideas, and ready to go.

I worked steadily through the first section, developing the simpler sentences in to more age appropriate [7-9 yrs] language with thesaurus in hand and building my characters' back stories as I wrote. The story follows the development of paintings and writing descriptive landscape passages is incredibly self indulgent but equally enjoyable. Writing speech isn't something I find easy but as it's always a great way to develop characters, particularly with Annie being a little more cantankerous than her gentler friend Daisy, I dug deep and the hours just fell away. 

As I stopped for coffee at 3.30pm, the phone rang. Susan, my Supply Superheroes agent. 

"Yes I'm free!" I hear myself say. Just like that. I am now gamefully employed. 

And so, with my first day's supply teaching set up for tomorrow, after a prolonged absence from the chalk face, tomorrow is the start of a new era, one in which I will perhaps have even less time to write each day.

The more you write, the more you learn about writing. I'm sure of that.
A great writer once offered the best piece of advice I ever heard as a fledgling writer.
"If you want to write, write."

This month, I'm learning that I can't always, can't ever, predict what writing is going to happen on a writing day, but I determine to definitely, absolutely write on the days I put aside for writing. Although it's very easy to be distracted by life and small children, cats, household chores and so on, I try to be disciplined and avoid the distractions I have at home. I have to fight away the urge to iron in front of Loose Women somedays. Terrifying. When all distractions are stripped away and you still don't get your word count for the day done, you've only got yourself to blame. But with that burning away in the front of your mind, I find it's always easier to then stay on track.
That is how, over two years, I wrote 'Driftwood & Amethyst' , my first children's novel (published with Xlibris in 2011). I was unable to teach, dealing with new health and mobility restrictions and needed to do something. Anything to lift my spirits and help me find some sense of purpose. My children were a huge part of my recovery as they kept me busy and gave me a real reason for being. Having lost my career though, I desperately needed something a little more. What I found was my writing. Sitting for ten minutes to write, then half an hour, then an hour, on and on as my health improved with fabulous doctors sending me all the while for physiotherapy, hydrotherapy, operations, cognitive behaviour therapy . . .  the complete works. I know about distractions. You're learning from an expert in avoidance tactics.
Just write. Write when you can and persist in your writing.
Every journey starts with one step.
Mine did.

Driftwood & Amethyst - paperback £9.99

Driftwood & Amethyst ebook - currently £2.63

Short stories - A Different World

Entering short story competitions and submitting work for anthologies gives writers a forum for their work, particularly at a time when many magazines are cutting short story sections in favour of more celeb style features. Until these magazines see the light, short stories may be destined to hide out in the anthologies forward-thinking publishers collate. And as long as readers are reached, I will keep on writing!

Having entered a couple of short story competitions this week, I have been working through my most recent creations and applying my usual re-edit before entering them. The short story is an enjoyable medium to work in and I have a number of collections by author or subject matter which are well thumbed and have provided me with many enjoyable afternoons. The short story collection allows its readers short sharp bursts of intrigue, laughter, suspense and tears during journeys or a rare hour sitting at home with music on and the children in bed.
The writers group I am part of, Creative Writing Support, is a rather eclectic mix of over one hundred individuals with equally diverse tastes and writing styles. When we were asked to create a short story or poem on any theme with a song lyric as its title, many ideas flowed. Of course, writing the actual short story or poem to a particular title is no easy task and taking inspiration from various cliched lyrics left me numb and uninspired.
However, it was a few weeks later, when waking to Radio Two, my song title was introduced and I came round to a this classic song, considering the bones of a short teenage fiction story I had recently started and wondering if the two might fit together somehow.



Here's a little paragraph to whet your appetite - the anthology will be available from Creative Writing Support soon and I will keep you posted.

It Started With a Kiss

“What was that?” she whispered, rubbing her cheek gently.

“Just a cobweb, probably,” he laughed. “This room is covered!”

The young couple moved in to the small turret room from the stairs and felt their way in the dark across to the small sliver of a window.

“It’s so dusty in here,” Erin squeaked, rubbing her hands together. “And so cold.”

A sliver of moonlight shone through the stagnant dusty air, lending dim light to the room.

Danny rubbed his hands across the crumbling stone-work, the yellowing chalk-like substance wet between his fingers. He wiped them across his jeans, leaving damp dirty traces.

“It smells damp,” he muttered. “We should go. What are we doing here anyway?”

“I wanted to get right to the top turret,” Erin whispered, stamping her blue Doc Marten boots in victory. “Look how high we got!” They looked down to the castle walls below, barely visible in the fading twilight. Below them, the world was mapped out in miniature, like a toy town trail of green and brown. Cars lit their travel along grey snaking roads away from this medieval place, back to reality and modern times. Yet here, alone in the silence of this turret room, the centuries fell away and except for their uniform of faded jeans, floppy hair and faux-dirty sweater and sneakers, they could have lived in another time.

“There is supposed to be a ghost of a princess here, you know. She was trapped by her evil father so she couldn’t rule the kingdom.”

“Of course there is. Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t know,” Erin smiled. “My dad told me last time we came. I think it’s supposed to be true. Poor love.”

“Your Dad’s full of stories like that, Erin. That story’s as true as the folk songs he sings. I don’t know why you brought me up here.”

“I wanted to talk to you. Away from the others.” Erin smiled shyly to the floor before composing herself and meeting him eye to eye once more.

“Oh yeah?” Danny ruffled his fringe and smiled awkwardly. “So, shoot.”

“I wanted to show you something.”

Erin walked over to this friend of hers. He was no longer eleven and neither was she, the age they had been when they became inseparable in Year7, first Literacy session when they were sat together as strangers. She felt different now, whenever she was with him, and she was sure he knew it.

“Are you okay?”

Erin blushed. “Yes.” She knew she couldn’t do it. Bringing him up here like this was madness. What had she been thinking? Walking over to the window again, her eyes were drawn to etching in the crumbling stone below the narrow window. “Look.”

Danny knelt down to where she was pointing. His fingers traced the heart carved deep in the wall.

Erin rubbed her finger over the D carved underneath in a cursive script. “Look. She was here.”

Quite accidentally, the tale became a rather tragic ghost story with a teenage romance just blossoming throughout and I did wonder by the end of it if the title really referred to the kiss of a princess or just that of a young girl in love for the first time.
The story starts with kiss, but the young boy's life is perhaps saved by the love of his companion. That's what I love about a short story: the nuances, the possibilities and the interpretations. I look forward to hearing how the story and the anthology is received.