Starting. Again. 24.09.15

There is a very distinct problem with restarting something.  I don’t mean going back to the beginning.  I mean picking up where you left off and trying to figure out where you were when you last put it down.  It’s not the easiest thing to do, even when it’s a finite box-shaped thing.  It took me over six months to complete Final Fantasy XIII because I kept stopping and starting with game play.  I think I could have had it done in about six weeks if I hadn’t kept stopping and starting.  Except what I’m talking about doing is … well… it’s like trying to play Final Fantasy XIII, with it’s three discs for the Xbox 360, hiding them in different rooms, locking the doors and hiding the keys.  And then there is the boss to defeat before you can even start looking!  It’s a far more complicated shape, in lots of pieces and I’m not even sure where all those pieces are.

After a very long holiday, I’m coming back to my writing.  I think one of the things I’ve mentioned most often on my blog is my good intentions to go back to my writing and how this will be done.  Yeah, not been the most glorious of successes so far.  But I think I might have figured out why. 

Yesterday, I watched a YouTube video that might get its own special blog at a later point, not sure yet.  But from there I found this;

One of the things that I liked was that Marie Forleo suggested the use of Evernote.  I was feeling quite pumped-up and eager to start some work, but had no idea where to begin.  Where would I, of all people, begin when I’m feeling a bit daunted by the task at hand?  Where else?! A list.  Excellent!  So I got a new app to play with and started work.  What I discovered the more I delved in was how incredibly scattered everything do with my writing is.  Some of it is hiding on paper in various notebooks (off the top of my head, there are at least 10 that have something to do with my writing), notes on my phone, documents on my computer, all in different folders and then there are the post it notes.  Let us not even begin to discuss the post it notes (Discs, rooms, keys – you with me now?). 

Then you have the creeping fear… the voice at the back of your head… Whenever I try and get organised, I always feel like I’m avoiding actually doing the work at hand.  Rationally, I know that sometimes the best thing to do is take a step back and check you know where and who you are before you set off on a mission.  But when I’ve been putting off doing something for so long, I start to doubt my own intentions.  Am I just avoiding doing what I said I would do because I think whatever I try and write is going to be no good? 

What’s a creative guy to do when he doesn’t know where to start?  Check in with his sister, of course.  Like my mother, she can smell bullshit a mile away, even when the wind is blowing the wrong way.  She thinks it’s a good idea?  Yatta!  Away we go.

Then you get that massive sinking feeling as your list just gets bigger and bigger of things to do. And oh Lord has it grown.  There were three items on it when I started.  I think now I have about 35 various sized bullet points to work at.   Best thing though?  They’re all together in one place, on Evernote, which is in my pocket most of the time.  Should I think of something to do or want to have a look at where I’m up to, I can just take a look.  If I need to do some major typing, I have it downloaded on my computer.  I’m ready to rock and roll; I know where I’m going and what I need to do to get there.  Excellent.  Yatta!  Again!

So, what’s my beef?  Where’s the boss to defeat?  Have you ever projected your insecurities from yourself squarely on to the person you love the most, just because they’re there and convenient?  I’ve had my partner living with my now for a few months and its going great.  One of the things I always struggle with is asking for things I need from someone else.  It’s a whole messiah-martyr-complex thing.  Thing is, when you’re living with someone for the first time and you’re looking for their agreement that you can go and hide in the back room with your laptop and ignore them for hours at a time, you really need to check in with them first before you start doing that.  It’s only fair!  But that means you have to actually speak to them and anyone that knows me knows how useless I am at dealing with conversations that I find difficult.  In my head, I’d convinced myself he was going to laugh at me and tell me I was being stupid.  I was going to end up rowing with him and severely resenting him.  I started to think about that and asked for some more advice from Laura.  As I sat and mulled it over with a brew, I quickly realised that the person who was laughing at me, telling me I was stupid and being resented were all me.  Not him.  Just me.  And there’s the boss it’s going to take me a while to defeat.

Armed with my tentative (and believe me, it was tentative) optimism that everything was going to be fine, armed with Evernote – at this point, with about three items on it – I went to speak to him… and here I am, knowing that he is supporting me.  I have to admit, I’ve been less than supportive of myself than he has been off me in the last 24 hours, but there we go.  I should learn from his example.

So, why write a blog about it all?  Because it’s on my list of things to do.  I promised myself I would write it all down and celebrate the fact I was actually trying again.  All I have to do is a little bit every day and I’m making progress.  And that’s more than good enough for me.

And to exit?  A nice photo I took.  See you all soon.

A nice picture I took on my way home from work 17/09/15

A change of scenery, the ebb and flow and finding calm – 15.07.15

It’s been far too long since I’ve visited this blog to make a post; I’ve left it for too long, favouring doing other things. The thing I’ve realised in this last few days is that quite a few of those things aren’t doing for me what I really need them to. I realised quite a while ago that I need certain things in order to feel like myself and to be the most authentic version of me. Writing on here – writing in general in fact! – is one of them. But for some reason I don’t do that. In fact, I go as far as to avoid it. I think about doing it a lot. In fact, if I spend all the time that I think about writing on my blog or towards creative writing endeavours, I would probably have finished that novel I’m ignoring by now. 

But, tonight, in my little corner of the world, I have intended to and, am actually, writing with the intention to upload. For novelty perhaps, I’ve come to sit in my backyard at my newly gifted chair and table. Curiously, I’ve chosen to write on my knee instead of at the table. I don’t really know why, but it feels good, so I’m going with it. The kids of the neighbouring houses have gone to bed, so I have a cup of tea and some relaxing listening. Some local wildlife is eyeballing me through a window, wondering what the hell this guy is doing. But the sky is incredibly blue and there’s a light chill in the air. I’m feeling good and calm. So, here I am. 

I suppose the reason I’ve decided that I really needed – yes, needed – to do this was a video I watched last night on Youtube.  

Where John so talks about doing certain things “fills him up” is exactly how I feel about some of the stuff in my life that a lot of people do not do. No, thousands of people are probably not going to read this, but doing it makes me feel good. And I don’t do that enough. I suppose my intent now, moving forward-onward-and-generally-in-a-linear-fashion, is to continue with a commitment I made to myself a while ago that I’ve really not been upholding the end of the bargain on. 

A lot has changed since I last wrote on here. I’m happier now than I’ve been in years. I have two new people in my life; one my beautiful boyfriend and one, my beautiful Kitty, Sebastian (he comes with many aliases, mostly Iddy-Biddy-Kitty. 

Yes, I've become one of those people who takes far too many photo's of their cat!! Taken 05/07/15

Things are changing for me. In really good ways. I suppose half the reason I’ve come back here is because the happiness I’m feeling is coming from external sources. What’s wrong with that? Nothing much. But what about what I was doing before I met him and started to have a furry knee heater? I was trying to work on my craft. No, I wasn’t always succeeding, but I was trying. I’ve stopped trying. 

 I think I have rambled on here before about how badly I deal with change and whilst the changes I’ve undergone in the last six months have been hugely positive, it’s been a massive struggle for me to adjust. It’s amazing how easy it is to accept mediocrity as life and “getting by” is good enough. But it isn’t for me. I want for myself than that. And I haven’t really been trying. 

But having someone new in my life, who I adore, makes me want to try and do more things. He’s a huge “enabler” in the best terms of the word. He makes me feel more like me. But do I do those things that I ought to do to make me feel more like me? No. Why? Ultimately, the only answer I can hit upon is that I’m 4 parts laziness to 1 part sabotage. It’s easier for me to make excuses about time and commitments than it is for me to commit to myself. Taking the time to sit here and type away like this confronts me with me. When you’ve been ignoring anyone for a while and are forced to look them in the face and say, “Hey gurl, what’s been going on wichu?” it’s awfully hard to hold the eye contact. I have a lot to celebrate in my life. Am I doing that in a truthful and honest way to myself? No. Should I be? Oh Helllllll to the yes!!!!! 

 I think a lot of the time, I set myself up for a fall, professionally and personally, by over committing myself. I like to think I can do anything and do everything all at the same time. Reality bites me on the ass each and every time to remind me “No, dear. You’re human, just like the rest of us.” So instead of promising myself that I WILL write on this blog every week, I’m going to leave it open. If I post again in a months’ time, that’s a hell of a lot sooner than my last post. It’s a matter of ebb and flow. I need to keep the ebb “up” so that I don’t run out of flow. 

I’ve missed this blog and hope to see you soon. 

Michael xx

Towards the Light 15.12.14

If you were unfortunate enough to read of my blog submissions in the Letters to November series, you’ll have noticed (as I did) that I have a very ambiguous relationship with light and the lack thereof in the winter months.  This morning, I tried to take a picture to show it, but my camera on my mobile wasn’t good enough to show it off.  I had a very peculiar experience.  Or rather the lack of clouds allowed me to appreciate it.  Or maybe it was the lack of frost and the lack of clouds that allowed me to appreciate it…  I digress…

I set to walk to work and I was struck by how light it was.  Now then, don’t misunderstand me, it wasn't beautiful glorious day light, nor was it a perfectly clear sky.  However, between the clouds, the sky was indeed a lighter hue of blue than I’m used to at 7am.  I quite enjoyed it.  The way the clouds changed on my way to work, I was constantly headed towards the light.  That sounds a little too much like an allegory for a near death experience and whilst going to work is far from the most pleasant of experiences, I wouldn’t compare it to shuffling the mortal coil. 

For some reason that I can’t quite explain, that experience of moving towards the light has lightened my mood in the darker moments (and there have been a fair few) of my day. 

Somewhere between several urgencies and a severe lack of tea in the equation, by the time I was making for the door at 5pm, my head was killing me.  I was relieved somewhat by the fresh air, but nonetheless, the day had dampened my spirits.  It had been incredibly busy and more work had stayed on my desk than had crossed it completed.  As much as I’m trying to adopt a better approach, I can’t help enjoying a clear desk and a near-empty email inbox.  It’s just who I am.

But for the second time in the day, the clouds were far from complete.  The wind was at my back and it seemed so much to me that the sky was brighter than it has been at that time when I’m heading home.  Once again I was walking towards the light.  

I have no doubt that a geographer or an astronomer would tell me that it’s to do with our position in the northern hemisphere and the season combining with the convenient location of my house to the hospital (I was headed east this morning and headed west this evening).  Boo hiss.  I was greeted by light as I started my day and it welcomed me home this evening.  I like that.

In other news, I have finally reached another benchmark of adulthood.  I have decorated my first Christmas tree.  Not alone I hasten to add.  My exceptionally artistic (and patient) sister http://blog.pageinmyhistory.co.uk/, helped me massively, even providing the decorations.  It has made the whole room feel festive and helped me welcome in the season a little more than I would usually.  The thought occurred to me whilst I sat in the dark with just the lights on later on Saturday evening, that if I’m going to allow myself to be miserable in the lead up to my birthday (with bloody good reason!) I might have to rethink my attitude towards Christmas.  January is the month that I nearly died in when I was 15 and I really don’t want to spend a whole quarter of the year being full of misery and dread.  It took me 9 years to get through January without feeling very maudlin.  Maybe in a few years I can get through December and look forward to Christmas for the duration…

Merry Christmas to me.  Picture taken by http://blog.pageinmyhistory.co.uk/ 13.12.14

All that said… Christmas really should be confined to December. 

Lots of Love to you all and happy holidays.  

The Big What Now... 30.11.14

The problem I always have with finishing anything, be it a book, tv show, computer game, foolish relationship (just saying!) is that once it's done, I feel like I'm at a loose end.  Having finished writing letters to November, I can't help but feel that way again.  The thing that's annoying me ever so slightly is that it's not like I don't have things to be doing.  I'm part way through reading four or five books, I'm half way through writing a novel, I've just started watching Arrow (Oh good god!!); It's not as though I'm short of things to fill my time with.

The problem is that I wanted to keep up with my blog at least once a week.  Doing the letters I've shown myself that's possible... If I give myself something to write about.  I'm not going to do Hate Mail to Christmas/Letters to December, no matter how tempting that may be.  I don't know what to do.  

But at this precise moment, I must go to sleep.  If anyone has any ideas, leave me a comment.  All helpful idea-donations gratefully received!

And also, big thank you to any one who read any of my letters or blog posts over the last month.  The page views have soared through the roof and it shocked me, so thank you for the traffic and support. 

Lots of love.  Michael x

Letters to November 30.11.14 - Goodbye

Dear November

It’s strange to me that this is going to be the last letter I write to you.  I can’t believe that I started writing these to you a month ago.  It feels like things have changed a lot in that time, even though I’m not quite sure.  There are the obvious things; I’m a year older.  The weather has shifted towards the cold and the nights last for what seems like forever; it was hardly light at all today.  So dark and broody.  Maybe that’s the part of you that appeals to me – the inner tortured artist… Oh, how cliché!

It occurred to me last night whilst I was out for works Christmas do that it felt for me, less like a celebration of Christmas and a celebration of this month.  The night out became for me like a birthday night out; I didn’t do much for my birthday and maybe that was a mistake.  I’ve never been a big fan of that but perhaps I ought to try and do something next year.  I don’t know.   All I know is that it felt good to go out and celebrate, whatever the reason.  I wish I could afford to do it more often!  I was so nervous before I went but so glad I did, almost straight away… Well, after I’d had a drink, said hello to the people I knew and found the toilets!  We were on a mezzanine level of a bar so I got to do some people watching.  So strange how looking into the crowd and seeing how young they all looked!  I know I’m hardly old, but maybe my ‘youth’ is behind me now.  And whilst I was sat there nursing a beer, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s even a bad thing! 

Things have changed a lot for me in so many ways.  When I look back over what is nearly 30 years, it feels ridiculous to say that.  Of course things have changed a lot in 30 years.  In the last century, 30 years encompassed the break out of two world wars; things can change a lot in that time.  It’s so hard to look on what I can remember of that time and feel confused – how can things have changed so much but still for everything to feel so… consistent?  Maybe it’s the flow of continuity.  Thinking about it, two of the biggest changes that have ever taken place in my life and I wasn’t awake of conscious for either of them!    I’m going to include a photo I took a few days ago.  It’s the old hospital building that was closed years ago.  They’ve demolished most of the site now and are building houses there.  Looking at it today, curled up on the sofa with my aching head from one too many drinks last night, it made me sad to think they’re knocking down the building where I had my tonsils out.

Blackburn Royal Infirmary from the canal, taken 26.11.14

Anyway, I digress. 

What I really wanted to say to you today, November, is thank you.  I know that I haven’t written to you every day like I hoped, but the older I get the more I realise that things seldom work out how we hope they will.  But I’m still happy that I did this.  I’m happy I posted them on my blog so that people could get to read my ramblings.  I’m happy that I started working on NaNoWriMo even though I haven’t finished it yet.  I’m happy that I’ve been out twice this month.  I’m happy with so many things.  And writing to you has helped me feel more grateful for what I do have and how lucky I am.  It’s also helped me to really appreciate what I’ve lost.  It’s sad to lose anything or anyone, but not if you get to remember them, even if it’s hard.

I shall sign off and go to bed now.  Thank you for listening to me and keeping me company.  I’ll see you next year.

With all my love.  Michael xx

Letters to November 27.11.14

Dear November,

Today was my first day back at work after being off for a week.  Something has really changed for me and it was never more obvious than today.  I wasn’t happy to be going back after being off; given the choice, I don’t think there are very many days where I’d leave the house if I had enough milk and tea bags!  But I wasn’t filled with dread as I walked up the hill.  I had lots to do after being off for a week – same as usual.  But that hasn’t even stressed me out.    I’ve known for a long while that I get less done the stressed out I am; I flap.  I get little done and I just flap and get none of it done, which is more stressful.  None of that today, November.  And I got so much done!  Don’t get me wrong, I still have more to do, but it felt good.

All of that said, taking up communion with my sofa cushions and watching some TV, with a brew in one hand and the remote in the other… Ahhhhhh sweet Sanctuary.  It never feel more wonderful to be home than after being at work for the day.  But something about being curled up the TV on just hasn’t hit the spot tonight.  I’ve done some rearranging of playlists on Spotify and now, I’m quite happy to be listening to music and writing this to you, even though I know I’m really not saying anything important.  I suppose it’s more for me that I’m writing this.

The thing that sort of worries me?  I’ve not kept up with writing this every day, but I’m made a good job of trying – the best that can be hoped for in my book!  But I worry I won’t keep up with my blog when I don’t feel like I ought to write.  I’m more lazy than I would like to admit, November.  That’s the true.  I get made at myself for being that way and then things happen.  But it would be so much easier if I didn’t have to be frustrated with myself for not doing something and just crack on and do it instead. 

I don’t want to stagnate again; doing NaNoWriMo and this… it makes it easier to write, just though writing more.  Maybe it’s the discipline of just writing, even though I don’t know what to say.  The thing I’m appreciating more and more is that every time I don’t know how to say something or what to say at all, it’s a lie – I do, I just can’t find the words to sat it right.  And that’s the wonder of editing.  Why stress out about the few words that I know aren’t right when I can go back and fix it later? 

Anyway, I’m out of tea and it’s getting on for bed time.  Take care and sleep well, November.

Letters to November 25.11.14

Dear November.

Today’s letter come’s to you from my dining room table.  I know, novelty of variety in my working space! 

I was going to write this to you when I’d made my dinner but the mince I removed from the freezer more than 24 hours ago is still not defrosted…  So whilst that does its thing in the microwave, I thought I could send you a little catch up.

I haven’t done an awful lot today.  Most of the time I’ve been awake has been on the phone to my mum or my sister.  Nothing wrong with that!  I quite enjoyed it.  When I wasn’t proving the worth of my limitless minutes contract with O2, I have been doing little bits around the home.  Going to my mum’s to hang her new net curtains for her and clean her windows yesterday has given me a bit of a push.  There is nothing wrong with my house, but were several little things that really needed doing; things that I’d been putting off doing for reasons I can’t even offer!  Realising this pissed me off somewhat so I decided to crack on and do it.  I’m now in the space where I want to do everything all at the same time, hence typing whilst I wait for the meat to defrost. 

Just to let you know, November; after I finished writing to you yesterday, I didn’t do any writing.  However, I did do something just as good – planning!  I sat down with my pin-board and a block of memo notes and started writing things down and pinning them on my board.  I have 4 questions that I need to answer and a loose end in the back story I need to tie up.  Granted, one of those questions is a big question mark over what is going to happen at the climax of the story, but I know how I’m getting to the end now, which I didn’t know before.  I still feel a bit guilty knowing that I’m going to have to kill off one of my characters… Even worse, one that I like, but never mind.   Has to be done.  When I’ve finished cooking my dinner, I fully intend to do some writing before I let myself curl up and watch a DVD.

Oooh! Ding, defrosting is done.

I hope the day has you in as good as mood as I am today.

Letters to November 24.11.14

Dear November,

I’ve done some very productive things today.  I walked to my Mum’s and helped her with some manual labour she’s not well enough to attempt, including cleaning her windows in the kitchen… I cleaned out under the stairs and found some curtains which will go nicely in my back bedroom…  I watched a DVD that arrived that I’d forgotten I’d bought…  In short, I’ve done very well at not doing my writing all day.  I’m not blaming my Mum for that.  I’m blaming the hours around the productive things, where I watched 5 consecutive episodes of Judging Amy instead of writing.  Or watching a DVD instead of writing. 

I walked along the canal to get to my Mum's and saw these two having a paddle.  Blackburn Canal 24.11.14

I had a bit of a breakthrough in regards to my writing whilst I was sat there not doing it.  The only way I can think to explain it… Have you seen Stranger than Fiction, starring Emma Thompson?  No?  Well, that’s the problem.  I need to kill a character.  Given his age – he’s an octogenarian – and the time of year, as stupid as this sounds, I feel guilty.

The problem I’m having with writing without a plan, not even a loose one, is that I don’t really know what’s going to happen.  It’s all very impulsive and I’m very unsure of where the story is going to go next.  I know it’s going somewhere, I’m just not sure exactly what’s going to happen along the way.  And then, I crash land into having to kill off a character.  And I really don’t want to.  I was thinking about it, curled up under a warm blanket, around episode 3 of my Judging Amy marathon and I realised I have to kill him off.  I’ve set it up that way.  That’s why I have to; I wrote it that way.  It’s sort of like Dick Hallorann in The Shining; as soon as he sets off back to the hotel, it’s a done deal – he gonna die!!  And the audience knows it’s coming and before you know it, there was Jonny with the axe, adios Dick Hallorann.  Thanks for playing.  Be sure to play again in your next life…

I’m off on a tangent. 

The point is that I’m struggling, November.  I’m not going to get anywhere by not even trying but it’s a lot easier not to feel guilty if I don’t write him out.  I am aware I’ve been talking like the keys I’m typing are going to stop someone’s heart beat; I know this isn’t the case.  If anyone is responsible, it’s the guy in the story doing the murdering who is going to be to blame… who I wrote.  You see?  This stuff is hard!!

The problem, further to this and most pressing at the moment, is that I’m using writing this to you and picking which photograph to use as a distraction from doing the writing of the story…  And I don’t even feel guilty.

I’m losing momentum.  And I know if I don’t pick up with it again soon, I might get lost and never go back again.  I don’t want to leave it unfinished.  Even if it never goes any further than a first draft.  Even if I don’t finish it in time for the end of NaNoWriMo.  Even if it sucks and I don’t like the fact I killed someone off.  I need to finish it.  And I will… And I’m going to get a start on that as soon as I’ve made another cup of tea…

Speak tomorrow, November.

Letters to November 23.11.14

NB:  If you are my Sister and it's in the days around the 23rd November, please don't read this post.  I love you and that is said for your own good.  Love you. x

Dear November,

I started to write something for you yesterday.  I was going to tell you it was crap.  I was reading it back as I was writing it and constantly going back and editing and changing things because I couldn’t make it make sense.  So today’s letter is from yesterday and today.

Today is one year since my Gran passed away.  I don’t understand how that can be a year ago, but sure enough, my calendar reliably informs me (just let me double check), yes, it is indeed.  I don’t understand where all that time has gone. 

More than that, November, it’s hard to not feel it all over again.  I think my mother and sister would agree; I did an okay job of keeping my face straight for the time I spent with them.  The relief I felt when I got home and shut the door was so unbelievable; my face could do whatever it liked.  And nothing happened until a little while ago.  I don’t know why I felt the need to keep a pretence up.  Don’t misunderstand; I wasn’t an inch away from tears throughout.  Except for one moment…

My Gran was cremated and scattered over my Grand Father’s grave.  We planted a bush there for her – I forget the specific type of bush… but it was beautiful! – And in the cut back for winter, the gardeners of the cemetery have ploughed over it.   My sister was visibly distraught.  At the time, I wasn’t; it struck me as sad and thoughtless.  The day has wound on.  I’ve busied myself with other things (mostly distracting myself with the Batman).  But it keeps coming back to me and every time it does, I feel angrier and sicker than I did before. 

I don’t think I’m that upset about the bush – there was part of it still sticking out of the ground and, to borrow a very good Yorkshire saying, they were still wick [Thought occurs, November.  Wick, derived of quick… Like the Iron Maiden song, be Quick or be Dead?] and that means it might make it through and start growing again in the spring.  It’s not the lack of respect that is really bothering me.  It’s not even the fact the bush is gone. 

I keep a picture frame on my living room table.  I don’t have a single photo of the four of us together as a family, so I keep a smaller picture of me and my Gran in the same frame as one with my Mum, Sister and Me from when I was a child.  It looks “right” and has done ever since the day I did it… One year ago today. 

It’s hard to miss someone that you know you can never have again.  People would love to remind me, I’m sure, that I still have my memories.  The thing is though, a lot of the ones that are more readily available are the not so nice ones from the last decade.  I don’t know if it’s from when my brain broke when I was a teenager or if it’s just a symptom of getting older, but there seems to be so many spaces in my childhood.  Huge great big gaps.  I can’t even ask my family to help me fill in the blanks because I don’t really know what’s missing.  I do have some incredibly fond memories of my Gran and I am trying to keep hold of them, gripping with both hands so hard I think my might break my fingers…

Like dancing around her living room to Abba with my sister one half-term day when we were kids.

Like her telling me she was proud of me when I got my GCSE’s and my A-Levels.

Like the day my sister and I went to visit her in the care home and she knew something there was no way she could have known about me and when I asked her how she knew, she tapped her nose, winked and said “An old lady has her ways.”

Like the day the photo was taken that sits looking at me now from my table.

The best photo I have of me and my Gran.  I think Laura took this... or my Mum.  Someone did anyway.  

Terribly sorry this is late and a bit soppy November.  You’re a melancholy month and I’m in a melancholy mood.  I’m sure you’ll forgive me my tardiness, my sentimentality and if I just excuse myself for a while.

Speak to you soon.

Letters to November - 21.11.14

Dear November,

It’s been a few days and for that, I am sorry.  Between finish up work for my time off, my birthday and spending time with my family or catching up with friends, I’ve lost track of the time…

Ok, fine, most of today has been spent playing on my Xbox, but I’m writing to you now, November.  You aren’t cross with me are you?  I didn’t think so.

It’s been a strange few days.  Or maybe I’ve been strange over the last few days.  I don’t feel like I’m lacking in enthusiasm so much as … content with not having any?  Does that even make sense?  I’ve been excited about being off work – who wouldn’t be? – and I’ve enjoyed seeing my family, speaking to a dear friend who I’d fallen out of touch with on the phone, even getting a very early Christmas present.  But somehow, I feel very out of sorts.  Maybe even so far as to say lost?  I don’t really know what to do with myself.  I know I could (even should) have been writing to you or keeping up with my NaNoWriMo, but I’ve not wanted to.

I think that it’s obvious why… At least it is to me.  Is it to you, November? 

I’m going to do some writing with a cup of tea now.  It feels like the right thing to do, even though in truth, I don’t want.  That usually means the best thing for me to do is to get on and do it, no matter how much I don’t want to…

I’ll speak to you tomorrow – promise.

Letters to November 18.11.14

Dear November,

Continuing the theme of the week as it seems to be, keeping balance is hard.  I've had a very productive day at work, but it’s left me listless and lethargic to doing anything else.  I cooked something for my dinner, crashed onto the sofa and that has pretty much been the end of my evening.  It’s hard to feel bad for enjoying some quality butt-on-sofa time. 

I don’t know if I have it in me to do my words for NaNoWriMo, but I feel like if I don’t try then I’m letting myself down.  Also, because of how behind I got last week, I'm never going to catch up if I don’t get on and do something. 

I have given myself quite a lot of excuses previously about my writing.  Now that I have the idea to work on, I feel ridiculous if I don’t try and get something done on it.  That’s the thing about inspiration.  It’s so fleeting, I feel like if I don’t keep with it whilst I have it…  I could turn on my laptop tomorrow and find the moment has gone and I really don’t know where to go with the story or how to develop it at all.  That scares me.

How wonderful to have fear as a good motivator.  I'm going to call this quits now, make a brew and get cracking on my piece.  You haven’t ask, November, but I'm at just short of 24,000 words now so, at this moment, I'm 6000 words behind schedule… 

Think I need to do something about that.  

Letters to November 17.11.14

Dear November,

I realised today that I seem to be taking more photos to make sure I have something to show you when I post you this letter.   I don’t really know why, but I'm really proud of today’s offering.  I hope you like it too – you helped make it what it is.

Walk to work this morning. Taken 17.11.14

I've had a good day today, but I've lost track of my evening (again), so this is coming to you thick and fast to make sure I get everything done that I need to before bed time...

I've made contact with a friend that I haven’t spoken to in a while.  Not years, but I think it might have been months since we had a bloody good chat and chin wag about everything.  I missed her more today for no particular reason at all.  We've scheduled in a catch up for later in the week and I'm already looking forward to it.  I don't know why I find it so hard to break a silence.  Maybe it's a British thing; who knows?

I've written in my blog before, but never in a letter to you, November – I'm really bad at keeping in touch with people and keeping all the areas of my life in balance.  I'm getting better as time goes on.  I'm making more time for my writing, trying to write every day.  I don’t know if I can say that it’s making me a better writer, but I like doing it.  I suppose that I can call progress.  I'm working at letting work bother me less and not to get so on top of me.  I'm seeing my family regularly.  I just need to master that keeping in touch section better and I’ll be on top of everything.

Oh, and regular reading.  I need to make sure I do that too…

Balance is hard.

Speak more tomorrow. 

Letters to November 16.11.14

Dear November.

Apologies for the delay.  Once again, this attempt to write to you every day isn't going very well, but I am trying.  I hope you love a trier as much as God supposedly does.

Anyway, I've had a lovely weekend.  Yesterday, I went to see some friends that I haven’t seen in a while.  Whilst I was waiting for one of my connections at Deansgate, I took this.  I don’t know why - I've seen the Hilton building in Manchester many times - but yesterday it looked… I don’t know… New?  Like I’d never really seen it before. 

Waiting for trains and hopelessly hunting for toilets 15.11.14

Today, travelling back and housework have been the aims of the game.  The last load of tumble drying is… well… tumbling as I type.  I've got somechilled out music that reminds me of my childhood playing. 

And despite that and having had a good day, I'm feeling incredibly melancholic.  I'm acutely aware that it’s probably the time of year we’re coming towards – nothing personal, November, but after  last year, you’re a bit of a downer, whether I like it or not.  Then deciding to play music that reminds me of being a kid…  Maybe nostalgic is a better word for how I'm feeling than melancholic.  You know the word nostalgia really means homesick?

With that thought, I'm going to leave you with a song.

I'm sorry for missing writing to you yesterday, November.  I know we’re over halfway through the month so this is already coming towards its close, but writing to you so often… somehow, it gives me hope?  I don’t know if that makes much sense.

Letters to November 13.11.14

Dear November,

I wasn't going to do any writing at all today, of any description.  I got home from seeing my family, put on my computer and resigned myself to watching some TED talks, drinking some tea and eventually crawling into bed without having done anything with my evening other than that…

I chose to watch an innocent enough looking TED Talk… This one:

And, Oh fool me!  It mentioned NaNoWriMo. 

I'm struggling with my piece because I don’t know where to go with it.  I don’t really like to discuss my works in progress, but for you, November, I'm going to make an exception.  It’s semi-biographical.  A lot of the particulars are relevant to the last year of my life.  Writing all of that was incredibly cathartic and has got me more than 15,000 words into the piece.  It makes it my longest ever work in progress to date.  That in itself is a massive achievement. 

But now the story has hit the point at which it needs to have very little to do with reality.  It’s where I talk about something that frightens and scares me.  But I need it to unnerve the reader too.  I need it to build through the story, hitting a crescendo where they’re terrified to put the story down not knowing what happened…

Basically, November, I want this piece to be scary shit… I want to be Stephen King.  Don't worry, I know I'm no where near becoming Stephen King!!

The thing is… I don’t know how.  My hope for tonight is that I will pick up a rhythm and flow with it and the rest will “write itself” as I start talking about what scares me…

The bigger thing is… I'm scared to write it.  Not because I think I'm going to scare myself.  Because I'm faced with my fear of failure.  What I've realised tonight… in the last 10 minutes in fact… is that if I don’t write it, I'm failing.  By the end of this month, technology and fingers willing, I will have my first working manuscript by the end of the month.  And that terrifies me.  It’s already on its 28^th page and I'm dreading what I'm going to find when I got through and revise it. 

Unfortunately, whilst I enjoy our chats, it’s time for me to sign off.  If I don’t write something today, I'm going to feel guiltier that I already do.

Speak to you more tomorrow.

Letter to December - 12.11.14

Dear November

I'm feeling as though I've neglected you a little.  I didn't get to writing to you yesterday and today… well… I'm filled with a terrible sense of apathy.  Not towards writing per se but towards doing anything that doesn't involve me turning on my TV or starting at TED Talks.  Watched a cracker about the Gay Agenda whilst I had something to eat.

I've come to get in bed and write this to you, just to me more comfortable.  I don’t seem to be able to settle for the last few days.   I'm feeling slightly on edge, more so today.  I had some exceptionally good news today about the health of a loved one.  And whilst this news is more than welcome (Any time the prospect of bad news is beaten down and triumphed over by good is a welcome time indeed *clink glasses*) I can’t help but feel edgy.  The horrible thing about secretly wondering and shunning bad news is that when I don’t get it, I don’t know what to do with myself.  I can’t stress enough that I wouldn't ever want the bad news; that’s not it.  I hope you understand me, November.

You of all, I would hope would understand being misunderstood; you’re my month after all.

I’ll leave you with a song.

Letters to November - 10.11.14

Dear November

I saw something on my walk this morning that made me think of you.  It wasn't anything particularly extraordinary.  But it did make me think about what I expect of you, November.

Not the greatest of photo quality - I blame this on the light at 6:50am this morning.  Retouched on my iPhone.

 Seeing birds swimming along the canal is not a strange thing, but at this time of year?  It seemed very strange.  You don’t see many birds at this time of year.  I carried on walking after I took the picture and I continued to wonder for some time – most of the day actually – about why people dislike winter so much. 

Since last year, when my Gran died, I've looked ahead on the calendar, dreading November.  I can’t help it and I don’t mean to, but I do.  It’s less than two weeks away and I can’t help but count the days.  So for me, November, you’re a herald of death.  I ruminated on that thought as I was walking to work; maybe that’s why so many people don’t like winter as a season.

I walked on a little way.  I thought about what happens in December, Christmas.  Another event that it’s more and more difficult to get excited about the older I get.  I’m going to try for once this year.  I remembered that Christmas is a celebration of birth for Christians, and for pagans, it was the celebration of the on-coming spring.  It occurred to me whilst I was thinking about this that maybe it isn’t the idea of Death that seems to close in winter; the dark skies, the early evening and nights, the trees shedding leaves and hibernation; it’s the lack of life we seem to see that makes it so difficult.

But at lunch time, I saw a wasp.  And another thought came to me.  It’s not that everything is dying or hiding its life for us to see.  It’s almost like Nature has a rest during the winter for all the hard work its done in Spring and Summer that we’re so keen to celebrate and enjoy.

More than that, there is a lot of life to see in winter.  Grown men and women turn back in to children at the first sight of snow!  Children play in the snow, make snow angels and snowmen ignoring the inevitable melting when it rains.  And then I got thinking about Christmas, ignoring all the expense and more miserable aspects of being a grown up at this time of year.  Who really feels more alive in this world than when they’re celebrating something with their friends and family? 

Sorry for the wandery thought trail today, November.  I've been in a sombre mood today and but I’ve ended the day on happier thoughts than I started.  I call that progress.

Letters To November 09.11.14

Dear November.

I’ve been neglecting you for a few days.  I can only say I’m sorry.  Friday, I didn't get home until very late in the evening and Saturday, mostly, all I did was sleep and nap for most of the day.  In a way, I don’t feel bad.  I got to go to a lovely birthday party, meet some fantastic people and have a fantastic night.  I suppose that’s the problem I have with writing, NaNoWriMo included; if there are good reasons for not doing something, I still feel guilty for not doing them.  I've been sat today, procrastinating from starting writing my story, because I'm 3500-ish words behind target for the end of November.  I suppose I even feel bad because I haven’t kept up my commitment to doing something that I really want to do; like I've let myself down.

Though this is true November, the past is in the past, and looking through the photos on my phone, I can remember that I had a wonderful time last night and the relaxation with a bottle of wine and a takeaway on Friday night in front of the TV was very well deserved.  It’s been a rough week and Friday was a really rough day.  I just don’t want you to feel neglected though.

If you squint carefully behind all those balloons, you might see Sue... At Bradley Wood, Brighouse 08.11.14

I'm sat in my living room, looking out of the window.  It’s not even 4:30 yet and I'm going to need to put a lamp on.  Your nights are starting earlier and earlier and soon enough, I'm hardly going to see anything else all day – it’ll be dark when I go to work and darker still when I get home.  No wonder I just want to sleep all the time!  Maybe it’s genetic memory of being a bear or a badger; something that hibernates through the winter, emerging in the spring, groggy and hungry but ready to start the year anew, full of hope and optimism.

I'm struggling with my NaNoWriMo.  It’s not just the word count either, November.  The problem sometimes with my writing is that I know what I want to do, I just don’t know how to do it.  Basing it on my own experience has made it a lot easier to write; its so easy for me to relate to because it really happened to me.    But now I need to move out of the experience that’s mine; I need to make one that can belong to the readers.  I need it to be scary and original.  And just to add in to my thoughts, including my target for today, I need to write 5000 words.  That’s half again on my current word count.

I'm tired at the thought of it.

Letters to November 06.11.14

Dear November.

I took a photograph this morning when I was almost at work.  The morning was so gorgeous and I know there won’t be too many more.  I will be walking to work in the dark and coming home in the dark within a few weeks and I wanted to show how beautiful you can be… when you’re in the mood.  The mood didn't last all day though.  I loved the wild winds, even if it was chilly. 

I've come home and crash landed into my writing chair with a cup of tea and some chocolate after dinner with my mum.   I've come home, feeling glad of the time I've given myself to write to you.  I don’t have much to say today so I won’t find things to write to you about. I just wanted to say hello more than anything else.

Letters to November 05.11.14 - Bonfire Night

Dear November

I let work run away with me tonight and got home so late.  I still feel robbed by the early nights and can’t help but wonder if I haven’t got used to it by now, coming on 28 years old, if I’m ever going to get used to it.  How do people cope who hardly get any daylight at all in winter?  Do they cope? Or do they go mad and stir crazy?

It’s bonfire night.  I can’t help but notice it because even after 9pm, there are still fireworks going off.  Living in streets that back on to streets, the sounds bounce around like tennis balls through the night.  The air is thick with the smell of burning.  I must confess, I don’t like fireworks really.  At a distance, I’m a big fan.  But up close, they scare me.  Bonfires however, those I adore.  The smell of the wood burning, the crackling sounds and the way you wear the smell home with you is so heart-warming.  In the summer, pit fires or BBQ’s don’t have the same feel.  It’s almost as though we’re trying to fight away the cold nights and darkness with bright oranges and reds that burn.  The fires even look more beautiful. 

Do you remember a few years ago, November?  When I can stand at the little window of my flat that looked out over Blackburn and I could see all the fireworks and bonfires burning away the night?  I’ve always noticed that Blackburn looks much nicer in the dark than it does in the light – hardly surprising.  But particularly in the glow of bonfire night, even Blackburn looked glorious.

I suppose for you, November, this must be the biggest night of your month.  I hope you enjoy it.

Letters to November 04.11.14

Dear November

There’s something about the ever earlier darker nights that makes me more tired but stops me from sleeping.  Summer months and the constant daylight make me want to stay awake longer.  You and your brother and sister darker months make me want to curl up in bed under a blanket and stay there until you've passed.  I can’t do that though; there is so much to enjoy and I don’t want to miss it.  I don’t feel as alive in the summer months as I do in the winter.  There is something about the shock of the cold that sharpens all the senses.  It’s not just that.  It’s the warm coats, the scarves, the gloves and the sweet relish of walking inside that offers no solace in the summer, but really does in a month like yours.

I've promised myself to write to your everyday this month and today is the first day - so early in the month - that I've found it a challenge to sit down, turn on my laptop and find something to say.  I think if I can prove to you (and myself) that I can do this today, maybe it will help me with the rest of the month.

I need a real rest, November.  I have some time off coming up and I really need to enjoy it by doing very little.  Last time I was off work, I did work on my house.  It made me feel better and I can’t pretend that it didn't, but when what I really need is some time with my bed and maybe a book (or two).  Decorating couldn't be further from my up-and-coming agenda.

Sorry to cut this short, but bed time is calling and I have a lot to do before I can go to sleep.