Stuffs

A 10 year old photo from where I used to live right on the bay. I love the sky and the reflections of the boats.

I always like the way Andrew says "Stuffs" referring to minor tasks or items and have used it now in family settings. It's far, far better than the singular "stuff". Apologies to so many of you for what Blogger does to your comments. I just went through Blogger Jail and rescued so many of your comments on my blog which were trashed without rhyme nor reason - many of you frequent bloggers. I will try and make an effort to make this part of my routine now - checking the blog comments. 

As to other stuffs, I've been busy writing an article for a magazine based in England. It's about my mother's experience with birthing which was an absolute hell of a torturous experience for her. More on that later.

The other bits of writing is my own memoir of a period in my life where the participants and identifiers are now all passed on so I am free to write about it.

More is editing of a anthology which is hard going. Some of the writing is great, others not so much and requires far too much extensive editing. And this I find exhausting and maddening which is not good for my innards.

I waited and am waiting today for a call from my nephrologist to follow up on recent lab work. Nada. Already an hour has gone by and here I am, trapped, writing the blog, neglecting leaving as I have my own on line lab-work results in front of me and I have a myriad of questions on the line items ticked for "not normal". I imagine elders (and I have anecdotal evidence) are shoved aside in a stretched health care system that focuses on the more viable of its patients.*

I am reading Richard Flanagan, an Australian author I have fallen in love with. His writing is superb.

Question Seven was my introduction

And now I am reading The Narrow Road to the Deep North.

I hope to read all of his oeuvre. At times he is lyrical. 

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*update she did call and apologised for delay. Amongst other stuffs I have to go to hospital for more blood infusions. I've been struggling with exhaustion and putting it down to old age. Relieved it's not that.

Slogging away

I'm finding it hard to lift my head at times. I work on my completed memoir from time to time, desperately unhappy with editing attempts.

Other stuff intrudes like daily life tasks and my energy is absent. I do what I can. I started to throw out one item a day - usually into my recycling charity pile unless it's gone past its lifespan completely and lies sobbing in a corner somewhere. I exaggerate. But you know. I have a hard time throwing out stuff and am drowning in old photos, old books, detritus of an old life that no one else will care about. I promised family I would get a negative reader, but WORK. I promised myself ten minutes a day shredding masses of old papers, but WORK. And honestly? Digitized stuff? Does anyone look at it if I do it?

Speaking of the memoir, it is about a time I thought I'd never share with anyone. Ever. But it's haunting me. I need to get it to unhaunt by putting it out there.

And as I say at my writing workshops - most of our stories die within us. Repeat after me: get it out there.

Teacher, listen to yourself. It's time to just sit for at least an hour a day and think about it and restructure sentences and the unfolding of it all. 

Just finished:

This is about the travelling people of island, rarely written about. A little too mythical for my liking. A big book with tiny print too.

Reading:

I'm enjoying every single page. What a delight.

An Ordinary Day

I tried my first grocery curb-side pickup yesterday. It was a delightful experience. Everything ordered on the web was in stock and the delivery to the trunk of my car went smoothly and courteously. This freed up "Spoons" to do a pick-up at the drug store and also visit a local shop to cruise (masked, distanced) for little gifts which I like to do but usually don't have the energy for. Little things for some children in my life, a pair of pajamas for Daughter as she had joked some of hers were threadbare from overuse. We are mad pajama wearers in my family. I hadn't been able to do this in a while as all the energy was eaten up for one whole day just with one grocery shop.

My pajama clad leg just now.

I heard a real nugget from a 90 year old on Zoom last night:

"Change is proof of life".

This will stay with me. Life is all about change, and when there is none, there is death. So when change has to be made, and oh how we can resist the inevitable, say "I'm alive!"and proceed.

Joanna is here today, she is coming more frequently at my request and she's making my life easier in so many ways. I took on some extra work (editing mainly) so there isn't too much of a financial impact. And I do love editing, one of my clients went into such a rave about my work that he is fielding others my way. I am really pleased and gratified.

Ordinary days can be brilliant - yesterday was, or just hum-drum (today is, not feeling that well overall) but I'm rolling with them, the support system is in place. Something about rose gardens not being promised.

I've always loved this card I made from 2010. It sold out but I really should get a reprint.

Life on the Farm Day 1

Well, not really a full day. I arrived after 6.00pm. A looooong drive, well over 600km. 2 breaks but not long breaks. Gorgeous spot, I felt I was in Ireland with all the farms around, and the animals, and hand made quilts and a stunning modern type house but all wood inside, vaulted ceilings, loft, old repurposed wood, the whole house designed by the young woman and executed by her new husband. They were married this month. She fell in love with him in high-school when she was 14, they became best friends and had their first "real" date 2 years later. They have started this farm from scratch and built green houses and chicken coops and grow crops and are expanding it into outfitting, i.e. taking groups hunting and fishing and trapping. They have a cabin on crown land in the inaccessible (except to them) wilderness. They are living their dream and so very young at it too.

So I've laid out my materials, set up my computer, filled my shelf in their fridge with my food and have settled in. I had 5 bags including my food, my journals, my binders of work, (books, anthology), my reading material (oh so much, my books by mail (BBM) have chosen this last box with extreme care, every single book I decant is riveting, the knitting has suffered and so has Netflix.

Which reminds me: update my book list on this blog. Will do.

So I'm settling in quite nicely. And happily. I feel miles away from everything and everybody.

Which is wonderful.

Getting Excited

We have an anthology coming out. We are in the final stages before the print/e -run. I can't believe it. My writing workshop series' harvest. The work, the work m'dears. Agony. Words become meaningless after stroking and stroking the sentences and paragraphs. Especially when in the depths of grief and despair as I have been. I never want to edit others' work again. Intense. Unless it's just one author or one book or one story. Not this enormous compendium of multiple and varied writing styles.

Many local authors including Daughter and I are featured. Many interesting memoirs and stories of times past around this gorgeous bay of ours. Some contemporary - one of Daughter's is about Brooklyn, NY. One of mine is a Cork city story.

I'm very proud of the bunch of them, so much talent previously unexplored. We're having fun planning multiple launches. We thought: background live music, samples of readings, food. We figure if all our families bought 50 each we'd have a best-seller. *Snort*. One family of one writer has ordered over 100 and will probably want more. I can't even imagine that kind of family love!

I'm into the last week of stroking here with a final pre-publishing meeting next week.

It's amazing. I'm amazed.

And thrilled beyond belief to see this baby take flight.

30 Days - Day 24

So yeah. 'Twas a day alright.

Editing. All 4 levels of editing. Other people's words chewing around in my brain. Only once four times did I bang my head off the keyboard.

Here are the different types of editing:

(1)Developmental, structural or substantive editing i.e the whole picture.

(2)Paragraph-Level Edit
Also called stylistic or line editing

(3)Sentence-Level Edit
Also called copyediting

(4)Word-Level Edit
Also called proofreading.

Nearly the whole day spent on two short stories. Editors earn their keep. Truly. I can't believe the amount of work. I think I edit others' work much better than I do my own. Too close to it. Lesson learned.

I am NOT an editor, but then again I was NOT a director nor a playwright nor a......

We never know until we try, do we?