POST-OP BLUES

Made it out of the op ok. Am still quite sore - sitting up at a table to use the laptop doesn't really help but I am getting there slowly and surely. Feeling rather bruised emotionally today though, even though the op was a week ago. Felt fine until I realised I can't afford to take my full two weeks recovery time. Theoretically speaking I should not be going back to the day job until Monday week. But because the company I have wasted seven years of life on with hardly a day off sick along the way don't pay sick pay and because the statutory sick pay is so abysmal, I have got no choice but to go back next Tuesday (albeit on a part time basis), just so I can clear a repectable wage packet at the end of the month. Naturally this has filled me with the post-op blues I have thus far managed to stultify. Or should that be stullify?

I can't help brooding on the fact that the reduced recuperation period means I will not be able to do anywhere near the amount of writing I had envisioned. This in turn has made me realise that I will probably never be a full time writer which is enough to sicken any author's spirit. And all that has led me to question my very existence and ask the all-consuming, non-answerable question of Why Am I Here?

Ah well - let's not go there. I am trying to convince myself that I will feel better tomorow. At least I wrote a poem on Tuesday. And woke up with the smidge of a new idea this morning. It is sad that it's little things like that which - in my current mood - keep me going......

UH-OH......

I wave a gallant hand and head off to hospital tomorrow for my knee operation. I daren't confess I am scared brainless - not even to myself! It isn't helped when someone says "Oh yes - I know someone who had that done - to both knees. It took him almost a year to recover!" (thank you Colleague Who Shall Remain Nameless). It isn't the op itself I am worried about - just the fact I will likely as not feel battered and bruised for a few days and be hobbling around on crutches. Ah well - as Mary Poppins said - if I must, I must! It needs doing; end of story.

Hoping not to be out of commission for too long, though. Lots going on - second children's book due out soon, third children's book needing swift re-write, research for Local Interest Book gaining momentum (have at least half a dozen meetings to line up when I am back on my feet for this project), Poems running round in my head looking for a way out like demented ants - and poor old Writewords has taken a huge backseat of late so need to catch up with them, too. Bearing all this in mind, Hubby suggested today that I bring Laptop down to living room tonight just in case the muse takes me (after I recover from the anaesthetic) so will do that.

Hopefully be well enough to do another blog in a few days. In the meantime, wish me luck as you wave me goodbye, here I go, cheerio, on my way ...

DER SPRING IS SPRUNG DER GRASS IS RIZ....

Isn't it nice to have some sunshine again? Hubby and I took full advantage of the gorgeous weather on Saturday and finally gave our lawn its first haircut of the year! What a job! The grass was dry as a bone on top but wet as a puddle underneath and the flymo did not like it one little bit! Still perseverence won out and all day yesterday I kept looking out of the French Windows and admiring the garden. Neither Hubby nor I are particularly green-fingered but we do like the garden to look presentable. The plan is to tackle the front lawn and hedge if the weather is with us this weekend, so fingers crossed.

How was your Easter? Hubby bought me a plain chocolate Thorntons egg and I bought him a box of Ferero Rocher (I think I have spelt that wrong - the ambassador would not be amused). It is the first time we have ever, ever, ever bought each other chocolate at Easter. I don't know what came over us. My chocolate egg lasted the whole Easter weekend. Hubby still has four of his Ferero Rocher left and last night boldly sacrificed those to me when I realised I had no chocolate in the house (that is a disaster believe me). But I valiantly held off. As a reward I shall treat myself to a big bar of Bournville Plain later today.

I went for my pre-assessment at the hospital last Wednesday. Operation Kneecap goes ahead on Thursday 14 May. I am not particularly looking forward to it but it will be such a relief when it has all healed up and I can walk normally again and not wake up in pain-racked misery at one in the morning. The knee has been especially troublesome since last Tuesday when I made the mistake of running for a tram. Something popped and the pain was excruciating. I will never run for a tram again - even after the knee has been fixed.

Anything else? Oh yeah - the local interest book project is gaining momentum. The two primary local papers have run a couple of articles about it and appealed to the readers for stories and anecdotes for possible inclusion. Apparently, a big story is due out in the Advertiser this weekend and I have another meeting planned for this Thursday about it. I am trying to get some quotes for print but the three printing companies I have had a response from have come back as much too expensive - so if you are reading this, and know someone in the print trade who is fairly local to Croydon, please pass on my contact details ASAP.

Have a good Monday!

ROLL UP ROLL UP - BOOK SIGNING IS ON ...

Had a meeting yesterday at a local church who are holding a craft fair on 11 July. I spotted the sign on the gate last Saturday and - being the new ultra-confident me - instantly saw the potential. I rang the number straight away and left a message. By five pm, I'd been invited for an informal chat. "What do you do?" asked Jackie the organiser. "I write children's books," I replied. There was a moment of silence before she said "That's different! Usually people tell me they make birthday cards!" Got to meet her yesterday and paid my £10.00 deposit for a table. The plan is to set it up as 'local writer makes good' and obviously to sell - and sign - as many books as I possibly can! I have already spoken to Sarah the Publisher about obtaining a stock of Yucketypoo books, and she has also graciously agreed to supply me with any posters and flyers I need. It is all extremely exciting! So - if you can get to St Michael and All Angels Church in Poplar Walk, Croydon (there is a car park next door), on Saturday 11 July between 10.00 and 2.30, then come along, say hello - and meet Yucketypoo!

Tomorrow sees me being taken out for lunch by the gentleman with whom I am developing ideas for a local interest book. I have been jotting notes ever since our first meeting three weeks ago and I am more convinced than ever that we are onto something massive here; mainly because he is as enthusiastic and excited about it as I am. And he wants to fund it. I mean how cool is that? I will come back with another update on this as soon as I can.

Still haven't heard about the commission but I was told by another company yesterday that I am 'first on the list' if anything suitable comes up on the ghost-writing route so that's another option. Do you know what else I have done? Suggested a Poet in Residence scheme to one of the major coffee house chains. I do so much writing in Coffee shops (as I am sure I have said before) - and so do lots of other people - so I will keep persuing this until they respond.

Finally - before I dash off - I am going to set up another blog to run in tandem with this one which will mainly showcase my haiku and tanka so keep your eyes peeled.

And please, please, PLEASE get hold of a copy of The Choice by Og Mandino. Read and devour it because it will convince you - as it did me - that the power of choice can be enormous. I chose in January this year to live my writing dream. And I am.

BEING A WRITER

I have got lots and lots and lots of fingers in pies and toes in doors in the wonderful world of writing right now. It is all due to a realisation at the beginning of the year. It is something I have known for a while but never really acted on and it is this - if I don't make it happen, nobody else will. It is that simple. In fairness to myself, I think I did act on it before when I was writing jelly baby stories for Trebor Basset and running creative writing courses at adult education centres and workshops for children at local libraries - and writing a weekly children's column for the local rag. That all happened in the space of a year and it was because I made it happen. I had realised then - and have re-realised now - that opportunities seldom come knocking at my door unless I have knocked on theirs first.

After my stint in the literary desert during the tail end of last year, I just knew that I had to get out there and sell myself again. Not as a high-class hooker you understand - but as the person I am - the writer. So I have contacted and signed up with two companies who use ghost writers and have already been invited to pitch for a series of boys' adventure stories. I got my sample chapter in two weeks ago and hope to hear soon whether or not I have won the commission. If I don't get it, it won't matter. At least the company took me seriously enough to consider me. I contacted someone about a local interest book three weeks ago and have a second meeting lined up about that next week so fingers crossed there (quite difficult when they are already in pies but I'll try anything once). I have been in touch with the local tourist information centre and made some suggestions for an exhibition there on the theme of local literary connections (and Croydon has quite a few, believe it or not) so I will follow that up over the next day or two. I crawled out of my comfort zone and ventured into Brighton all by myself last Thursday to attend a Society of Authors seminar at the wonderful Jubilee Library - and that was a real eye-opener. I met Judy Cornwell!! We shook hands and chatted and sat next to each other and I understood I was back in my true world. I suddenly realised I have been starving myself of litarary oxygen. I truly need to mingle with other writers from time to time.

On top of all that, I have actually been invited to take part in an exclusive poetry competition and that is the first time that has ever happened. I am writing whenever I get the chance, and looking for new openings all the time. It is amazing how inspired and alive I feel again. I am always telling aspiring poets and writers to believe in themselves and their writing. I have always been good at firing up others. But none of that amounts to a thing if I don't pratice what I preach, does it? Current projects include re-establishing contact with the Duchess of York with regards to picking up the thread of an idea for a project we got close to a couple of years ago that never came to fruition. I am also trying to contact a number of celebrities with a view to asking them to read and comment on the Yucketypoo series so that they can be quoted on the cover of either the second or third book. I have somehow become involved with the Earl's Court Literature Festival which takes place in July (long story - tell you about that another time) and I am seeing new chances everywhere I look. All I need now is an agent - sadly that still eludes me and it is not through lack of trying. Eventually I will find one. And a website - which I am working on.

I am offering my services as a writer and critic to anyone that needs it. I am good at what I do.
Contact me. I'd love to help you turn your writing career around, too.

THE WRITER IS LOOSE

Have just spent twenty-five infuriating minutes trying to restore my photo to this blogspot after its mysterious disappearance the other week. Where did it go? And why? Is someone trying to tell me something? I found it - in the end. But not before all manner of expletives had turned the air blue and the PC had almost ended up crashing through the window!

It is Wednesday 25 February 2009 - it is just ten months until Christmas day! Ok. Ok. I promise I won't mention Christmas again until much nearer the time. It is now 07.47 and I am in the office at the day job, having come in early specifically to do a new blog. It is a grey, overcast morning. The sky is like moulten lead, the air is still and the 10,000 seagulls that seem to have adopted the airspace immediately above us recently, are nowhere to be seen. In fact it seems a little too quiet. The weather itself has improved marginally. After some drizzle yesterday, today it is at least warmer and dryer.

This is of great relief to my left knee which is very unwell and rather desperately in need of an operation to put it right. It really cannot tolerate the cold at the moment, but even when it isn't cold, that knee just can't tolerate anything. If I sit still for too long, it grizzles and complains. If I try to run anywhere it moans and groans. If it decides it has walked enough it sings grand-opera! A physiotherapist friend of mine spotted me hobbling about on it a few weeks back and promptly wrote a referral to my doctor, who contacted the hospital, who organised an appointment, that was overseen by a consultant, who concluded it is arthritis. I am scheduled for an op ( my first one since my appendix almost burst twenty odd years ago) which will involve the bones beeing scraped and the knee itself being flushed out. It sounds horrific but if it means I will eventually be able to walk without being in agony, and sleep through the night safe in the knowledge that I won't wake up in desperate pain at one in the morning, then I am prepared to put myself through it. Anyway it will mean two weeks off work so who am I to complain? That, to me, means two weeks in which to Write, Write, Write.

Things have really started to move of late. I have signed up with two publishing groups who employ so-called Ghost writers and within days, one of them sent me a brief for a series of boy's adventure stories. The commission will mean five books, each between ten and twelve thousand words, targeted at 7 to 10 year olds. I have been very busy drafting the one sample chapter they need by the end of next week to put me in the running. So far, so good. I am loving it. I work so much better when I have a schedule (or a deadline) to work to. And even if I don't get it, at least the company took me seriously enough to give me the option to have a go! Who knows where it could lead to?

The new Yucketypoo book, I have been told, is due to be published 'very soon' similtaneously in the UK and the USA; furthermore, the first book is about to be re-branded so its appearance looks more in line with the second book and, eventually, with the third and final book. The third and final book needs updating and I am arranging a meeting with a representative of a company that deals with envirornment friendly fuels to help it on its way. Once the entire series is complete, maybe those large chain retailers that expressed an interest in stocking it as one unit will pick up the option and give it their best shot.

On top of all that - I am very pleased to announce - the poet is back! I am looking at a number of new openings that could lead to regular Work so fingers crossed.

I tell you, this writing life! When it is going badly, it feels like the end of the world. But when it is going well - the sky's the limit.

Gotta dash - it is 08.23 and the day job commences in seven minutes ...................

'S NO JOKE.......

Had Youngest Stepdaughter's two last weekend. Eldest Granddaughter and Youngest Grandson ran Hubby and I ragged the whole time. E.G has become a proper little madam with the most infectious giggle and sense of humour. She has this way of looking at you as if you were the dumbest kid on Earth which is somewhat unnerving in a three year old. Y.G is into everything. He managed six steps all by himself before plopping onto his bottom and giving himself a round of applause. It was a different thing entirely when he borrowed E.G's dolls pram. With something to hang onto he zoomed across the floor, not stopping until the pram collided with the French windows. I had this vision that if there were no obstacles in the way he would be quite capable of walking in a straight line forever. He has also learned how to be very defiant. He squirted his milk all over the carpet so I said firmly "NO!". He looked up at me, gave me a gummy grin - and promptly squirted milk all over the carpet again. "NO!" I reitereated. When the milk hit the carpet for the fourth time I confiscated the bottle and then had to endure the screaming ab-dabs for the next five minutes.

On the Sunday morning, I thought it would be an adventure to walk them over to the paper shop. Y.G was in the buggy and well bundled up and E.G refused to wear her scarf, hat and mittens. With every step we took it got colder and colder - the temperature was just plummeting every second. By the time we were on our way back some ten minutes later both youngsters were crying from the cold. I didn't blame them. I was almost crying myself. I told E.G, "Let's put your scarf and hat on at least!" But she flatly refused. "Well then don't cry because you're cold!" I said rather unsympathetically. They were okay once they'd thawed out back in the warm embrace of the house but I did mentally question the logic of a three year old who cries when she's cold but simply won't wear a scarf and hat!

Mummy picked them up at lunch time. As we waved them off the arctic winds forced a hasty retreat from the doorstep and within a couple of hours it was snowing. And snowing. And snowing. When I got up for work on Monday there was almost a foot of the white stuff draping everything. Hubby and I checked the weather updates on TV. Warnings were rife not to go out unless you absolutely had to. All bus services had been suspended but no-one mentioned the tramlink and finally at 7.15, Hubby began to escort me to the tram stop. Half way there, with snow up to my knees and a blizzard swirling around us, we met a group of people who told us the tamlink service has also been suspended so we turned round and went home again. A series of text messages and mobile phone calls finally confirmed that no-one was going to get to work that day so we spent it indoors watching TV and seeing the snowdrifts grow and grow and grow. The last time I recall snow like that is when I was living in a flat in Mitcham some twenty years ago!

Tuesday dawned frozen and cold. I checked and found that there were some buses so left home at 7.10 arriving at the office two hours later after some very long detours. It was complete mayhem. Even the staff at West Croydon Bus Station didn't know what buses were running and which ones weren't. Around half a dozen staff managed to get in that day and most finished by three to make sure no-one got stranded and, even though things were more or less back to normal yesterday there are still great huge clods of frozen snow everywhere and walking along our quiet little cul-de-sac this morning was a complete nightmare! I live in terror of having a prat-fall and making a complete idiot of myself.

Personally I think the snow brings out the kid in most of us. There is still something of a thrill in seeing your own footprints in virgin snow and there are plenty of smiley snow-people beaming at passers-by from front gardens. And of course I just had to take some photographs of our snow-covered garden and neighbourhood. It looks so pretty and it has this knack of bringing out the community spirit in everyone, with neighbours all waving at one another where, more often than not, we are all generally too busy getting on with our lives to even notice each other. But I am beginning to tire of it now, I must admit, and have huge hankerings for the first pink blossoms of spring and being able to walk the streets without the fear of breaking an ankle at every step!