Dearest Diary

I got back on Friday afternoon from a really, really lovely week away with the Fam. We have mostly good weather (I'm rather pink in odd places where I missed squirting with the factor 50) and just because I'm not a sun-worshipper the weather angels also blessed us with a bit of drizzle too. Perfect. It was tough going being away from t'internet for 7 whole days but as with any fasting (self-enforced or otherwise) I came back to it with a deeper respect and appreciation.

I also took the time to think about how I've let everything in my life slide along, taking me with it. I do truly believe that being in total control of one's life is an illusion. Life is like the sea, big, powerful and all too capable of raging storms. However it's foolish to assume that you have no control over what happens in it. I'm afraid that, in my natural inclination toward going with the flow, I have allowed even the babbliest of brooks and the stillest of streams to carry me in directions I really have no interest in going. I have become the opposite of organised - not disorgainised - anti-organised. I can see that I've always leant in this direction. I even label my slothfulness in a cute way, thinking of myself as 'energy efficient' rather than lazy. In my youth I was given to terrible bouts of stress and bonkersness and I learnt the hard way that swimming against the tide gets you nowhere but knackered. The trick, of course, is knowing when to stand the hell up and march to pool of water you want to be in and when to ride the tide. I'm sick of ending up on the same old stretch of beach with my manuscript no further along, my house a mess, I'm permanently perplexed as to why I have no money and constantly embarrassed that I'm late for everything (if I remember at all).

No more I tell you! - Well not as much anyway. I have taken my head out of the clouds and had a good look around. I have been doing everything in my life half-heartedly. I am a terrible housewife. Mostly because I hate the term and all that it implies I have railed against it by being rubbish at it. But actually I am a total home-bod at heart. Home and family mean everything to me but I don't give it any respect. Yet I know that when I have done it well, it has given me great satisfaction. My negativity toward it is tied up in not wanting to be seen as a housewife - it's a term that has no value. I loathe it. So I have decided to rename it. I am a Homemaking Goddess. Currently I'm a pretty crap one but now that I have rebranded it I am already feeling more enthusiastic.

It's been nearly two years since we moved from our old house. (We moved in Oct '07 and spent a few months in a rented house before finally moving in here in Jan '08). I miss my old home. I miss my old life and mostly I miss my old friends. So much so that I have never bothered to embrace the new place I have found myself in. Instead of becoming part of this community I have spent my time daydreaming about going back to my old one. Instead of making new friends that I can hang out with, I started to hang out almost entirely on the blogsphere. Now please, please don't get me wrong. I love, love, LOVE all my blogging buddies. I ADORE hanging out with you and I am grateful that I have each and everyone of you in my life but none of you live close enough to go to the movies or share the odd glass of wine and a natter. I miss that. I need tangible friends as well as my very excellent virtual ones. It's taken a while for me to really internalize it but this is my home now so I'm giving up longing to be elsewhere. I have a great house in a beautiful place. My children love their schools and my husband actually manages to get home from work in time to have dinner with the family. (His old commute was nearly 5 hours a day!). I am very lucky to have a part time job which gives me the freedom to be there for my children and gives me the time to do other things with my life if only I managed that time better. In short I am a very lucky girl. It's high time I embraced it and appreciated it. Part and parcel of this is that we have started making our mark on the house. As I write Hubby is painting all the woodwork in the hall - including the stairs themselves, having already relaid the parquet flooring and built a new understairs cupboard. My excitement knows no bounds. I may have moved into this house 19 months ago but it's finally becoming a home. This makes me very happy indeed.

The next thing that I have realised is that I can no longer rely on my memory. Time was that I had the sharpest memory going - practically photographic. It got me through the educational system with very little effort although it has to be said that when it comes to physics - memory alone doesn't get you very far.... (college - not so successful). In my career (B.C. - before children) I project managed jobs, orgainised crew, transport and equipment and at any one time could tell you exactly where anything or one was. But in recent years I have found myself totally forgetting stuff. Not just letting things slip my mind but actually losing memories. I have lost count of the number of times I've forgotten about events - both mine and the kids'. It's got to the stage that when the phone rings my first instinct is to panic and think "What the hell have I forgotten now?" I have a diary for work and a calendar on the kitchen wall that sometimes act as a reminder - but I forget to fill them in and when I do - I often forget to look at them. Essentially I haven't been taking my unreliable memory seriously. But no more I tell you! I have bought myself a kick-ass diary which will go with me EVERYWHERE. In it I will keep phone numbers, reminders, lists. It has a page to view and times all along the page.

I am going to keep a schedule. If it says on my diary that should be having a cup of tea - then by golly that's what I'll be doing. But mostly I just want to throw off this awful sense of being utterly unreliable. In my heart I'm wholly dependable - I have just come to realise that my memory - well, not so much.


As for the finances - Thrifty is the new affluent.

Then of course there's writing. I don't know whether I just had a crisis of confidence or was just plain overwhelmed by my out of control life but the biggest casualty has been my writing. I have two MSs on the go right now and both suffered from my apathy and general malaise. But no more I tell you! I am scheduling in 1 - 2 hours of writing every day. It's going in THE DIARY. During this time I will not be ferrying my children hither and yon. I will not be doing laundry or cleaning up. I will not be walking the Pooch. And most importantly I will not be hanging out on Facebook. Whether it's one hour or two - if it's in the schedule, I will only be writing. Even if it's rubbish.

I feel calmer already.

Diary says it's laundry day. I am a Homemaking Goddess. Laundry mountain - here I come.

The List.

I'm looking out the window at the interminable drizzle as I make lists in my head about what I should be taking with me. I've already made actual written lists but you can never rely on those. The kids are all still asleep. Two hours left and the five of us and the Pooch will be confined to the car for 6 hours - or more!

Notebooks
Reading books
Computer
Memory stick

I'm on my way to the Atlantic coast of England for a week. In my opinion it's the best bit. It reminds me of home. Millions of years ago it probably was attached to Ireland but we grew apart. Still the landscape remembers the wild days - the rugged, windswept, squally days of yore. However I'm hoping for summer breezes for the next week. And sunshine. Blue skies and fluffy white clouds would be just the ticket, thank you.

Chargers - phone and computer.
Glasses - (on face)
Sunglasses - (soon to be on face once we drive out of this cloud)

I'm hoping for a relaxing week. The beach, reading and a bit of writing. This isn't one of those doing things holidays. I want to come home from this one without feeling the need for a holiday.
As long as I remember everything now that's what it'll be.

Bags packed (must remember to pack underwear)
Towels - (beach and bathroom)
PENS!! - DO NOT FORGET PENS!
Dog stuff - bed, bowls, food, blankie, lead, towels
Beach things - boogie boards, wetsuits, buckets, spades, windbreaks, chairs, tent
Picnic stuff
Rug

Now first things first. I must get up and get dressed. Breakfast. Start making piles of stuff.

What else?

Oh yeah - the kids. I suppose I'd better bring them too.

See you in a week.

Snack Poker.

Around mid-morning small son came up to me and said,

"I'm hungry."

I gave my stock reply to this statement,

"Did you eat ALL your breakfast?"

"Yup! But I'm still very hungry. Can I have a snack?"

"OK. What kind of snack were you thinking about?"

"Uuuum... Not sure... Shall I have a look at what's there?"

This roughly translates as "I know exactly what I want and I know that you don't want me to have it, so I'm playing for time and I'm hoping if I get it myself, so you don't have to leave your laptop, you'll just let me have it." I know this, but I'm on a roll writing-wise and I know if I get up, the moment will pass - so I say:

"OK - but bring it up and show me before you tuck in so I can see if it's OK."

He seems happy enough with this and takes off to the kitchen. I hear the stepping stool being pulled across the floor so I'm guessing that he's going for the biscuits which are in a tin on the highest shelf. Moments later he appears by my side. In his hand is a can of Coke.

I give him my best poker look. "I'm not sure that Coke is going to take the hungry feeling away."

He looks at the can in his hand then looks straight at me and replies,

"Maybe. But I'd like to check."

Of course I folded.

I'm Baaaaack!

At LAST. At. Long. Bloody. Last. It's the summer break. I have six weeks of no school. I would say I haven't felt like this since I was a seventeen except that I used to get 3 months off when I was in High School and 8 weeks off in primary. The British education system is a tad stingier with vacation time. Still I'm not going anywhere near this gift-horse's gob. I'm just pleased that my jammies and I can get reacquainted with the daylight hours.

Now if I can just convince my children to stop expecting me to drive them everywhere I'd be a very happy bejammied bunny.

So to the news.

Big trumpet fanfare!

I officially returned to writing mode at the beginning of the month when at the very last hour (actually I think I had about 3 hours to spare) I sent an entry into Jason Evan's Clarity of Night flash fiction competition. The prompt was a photograph of a crystal glass filled with red wine and the title was "In Vino Veritas". Truth in Wine. Jason had a co-host for this competition - Jaye Wells, author of Red-Headed Stepchild, who herself was a former entrant of a Clarity of Night competition. I have a huge soft spot for Jason's blog and his competitions as it is the place where I took my first tentative steps into the world of writing and it is through him I have come to know so many of you. How Jason holds down a full time job, writes so much incredible poetry and fiction, manages several blogs (although alas the Book Roast is no more), takes breathtaking photos AND runs these competitions at regular intervals, is beyond me. (Rumour has it that he's a damn fine husband and father too). I can only assume he has wizard magic or he has learned how to bend time.

This is the fourth competition of Jason's I've entered and with each one I have gained insight and learned so much from the other entrants. And with each one I got better. In the last competition, Ascension, I got an honourable mention which for me felt like being shortlisted for the Booker!!! This time around my excitement went into the red zone when I diligently tuned in at 5pm yesterday (local time - noon EST) to find that I got 4th place in the competition. Theeeeen I read further down and blow me if I didn't win the Reader's Choice Award. Oh My Giddy Aunt! I immediately went into "Oscar" mode and started thanking the world. I almost went into Sally Field "YOU LIKE ME" mode, (as we share a birthday I have to blame the stars for that impulse) but 20 years of living in England has taught me something about restraint. Instead I went on Facebook and screamed OMG!OMG!OMG! at the world. Much classier.

So to say I'm a tad stoked is a bit like saying the sun's a tad warm. I'm beaming. But the truly fantastic thing about the competition is the company you get to keep. And I have to offer my warm and hearty congratulations to JR Thumbprints (Jim Tomlinson) whose entry,The Sober Truth About Tyler & Zachary on Bickerstaff Street, won the day. I urge you all to have a read because it's just excellent. The Honorable Mentions list included our beloved blogging buddies - (that our means 'belonging to us collectively' - I didn't mean to sound like the queen) - WHIRLOCHRE with A Full Bodied Red, STEPHEN PARRISH with Through a Wine Glass, Darkly and AERIN with Presage. I'd also like to point out that Absolute Vanilla, Sandra Cormier, Peter Dudley, Sarah Laurenson, J.C. Montgomery, Aniket Thakkar, Catherine Vibert and Sylvia Spruck Wrigley all were inducted into the 40's club (which means that they scored over 40 out of the possible 45 points in Jason's marking system) as well as many many more fantastic entries. I hope that new friends will be made this time too. On top of that, in the reader's choice award Peter Dudley took second place with Judgement Day and Chris Eldin took third place with Brotherly Advice. So can I get a big YEEEEEHAW! And say Well Done Us.

There I'll put my trumpet down now.

I do just want to say a massive big THANK YOU to Jason and Jaye for being so incredibly generous and taking the time to sift through 158 entries. It was an amazing contest and I really appreciate your hard work. I also want to say thank you to everyone who gave me their vote for the reader's choice. I'm gobsmacked and thrilled to bits.

And in case I forget my entry is here.*

*Contains lots of non-PG words of the ear-melting variety.

An Invitation To Get In Touch With Your Inner Beard.

As I mentioned on my previous post I am a regular tuner-in to Facebook. I really enjoy it as, deep down, I'm quite a sociable hermit. You get lovely links on there to articles, videos and news items that are of interest to your friends. I frequently get asked to join campaigns - some of which even make sense to me. Then once in a while a major injustice is brought to light that impassions you so much that there's nothing for it but to jump straight on that band wagon and grow a beard.

Yes you did really read that right.

Today, it came to light that children's author Philip "Beardy" Ardagh (writer of the Eddie Dickens series and the recently published Grubtown Tales) managed to get himself banned from Facebook. Now although I had not 'friend'ed him myself we do (or did) have quite a few friends in common so that we frequently 'met' on a comment trail (most recently a very edifying discussion on why having a large overdue baby is similar to giving birth to turkey) and I have often laughed out loud at his wit and all round good humour. He is (or was) an active Facebooker which apparently is the problem. As author Mary Hoffman explained beautifully in her blog, Book Maven,

....he took it into his head to wish someone a happy wedding anniversary and then compounded the felony by wishing someone else a happy birthday. He received two warnings from Facebook about abusive behaviour and has now disappeared from the site.

All his posts have also been removed.

Apparently being too sociable on this social network is frowned upon by the powers that be. Philip was, to say the least, a tad confused by all this and wondered if perhaps the PTB (powers that be) were in fact a tad beardist. Never let it said that members of British SCBWI will sit idly by while their hairy brother is being thus discriminated against. No! Fear not because the friends of Philip Ardagh are campaigning to have him reinstated so he can further entertain us for no fee.

Basically we want the beard back. And to show the Facebook PTB that we are not to be trifled with, friends (and in my case, would-be friends) of The Bearded One are donning beards in solidarity and publishing them on the group page dedicated to his return www.facebook.com/pages/Beardy-Ardagh/95221544449?ref=nf. And so dear bloggy friends I ask you if you too are on Facebook, to photoshop on your best beards and become a fan. I admit that at the time of posting I have no idea how to upload your hirsute visages (as mine was done by Absolute Vanilla who also created my Grizzly Adams look) but I will find out*.

On a slightly more serious note for writers everywhere who are actively encouraged to use Facebook for promoting and marketing their books, we really do have to stand together and slap those PTB for this outrageously high-handed approach. Beardy needs us. So if you feel the same way, then please, please, beard up and join in.

This is me...


Do I remind anyone else of this?


* UPDATE: Absolute Vanilla tells me that you should be able to upload your pics into the fan album in the normal FB way once you are a fan.

YA Censorship.

I normally check into Facebook in the mornings when I'm sitting up in bed having the cup of tea that Hubby has lovingly made for me (yes - everyday - tea brought to me in bed! I know - I'm lucky!) and this morning my friend Maureen posted a response to something that was happening in Florida regarding one of her novels. I should come clean now and mention that my friend Maureen is none other than Maureen Johnson and in case I might give you the impression that I actually know her or have in fact ever met her in person I should (for clarity's sake) also mention that she has 2,734 (at the time of posting) other friends like me ... on Facebook. Maureen made a video to respond to a Fox News report on a mother and her friend who were trying to get two YA novels (one of which was by Maureen Johnson) moved from the YA section to the Adult section in public libraries because they did not approve of the content. Do have a look at it - it's fairly self explanatory. (Note: if you click on the video so that it actually plays on the You Tube website, Maureen has kindly linked to the news reports and the passages spoken about in them in the sidebar next to the video).



I don't know how you feel about the subject of book banning but personally it appalls me. On many many levels. Now those of you who have watched carefully may now be shouting "but the woman did not ask for the book to be banned!" and this is true - what she asked for was for it to be moved to a section in the library where her daughter could not access it. She is effectively asking the library to censor the content and to act as babysitter for her child.

I have no doubt that the woman in question did not feel that the books her daughter "randomly" chose were appropriate for her daughter. I think she was genuinely shocked at the content of these books. This is her right. It is totally up to her how she choses to bring up her children. However that does not give her the right to censor the reading of other people's children. The thrust of her argument is that the more adult content is not appropriate for younger readers. A twelve year old is far too young for some of the themes, concepts and even more explicit (but y'know - mentioning sex does NOT make it porn Lady) content of these books. The books were clearly in the YA section and that section was clearly marked as 12-18 year-old.

Here's my point - YA does not mean yeah, it means Young Adult. These books are for older teens. Young adults in fact. Personally I have always seen book banding to be like a recommended reading age and that recommendation gives you some idea of difficulty level (both in terms of prose and concept) and content appropriateness. Twelve year olds are what we call middle grade (9-13). There is no doubt that a lot of 12-year-olds will be well past MG books and would prefer to select from the YA shelf. As far as I'm concerned this is how it should be. A child should not feel bound by age bands. These are just recommendations. And there are plenty of YA novels that children of 12 and 13 can happily read without their mothers having a heart attack. However there are also plenty which are edgier and which reflect a more realistic and grittier side of growing older and many parents may not want their 12, 13 and possibly even 14-year-olds exposed to this. This is their choice and I fully respect it. However I feel this means they should teach their children (as I have done) how to chose books. My kids know how to look up reviews and research authors on the net and possibly most importantly, they know that I also am very familiar with YA authors. They know that I'm as likely to read any book that comes in the house as they are. There is nothing more likely to help a child be a discerning reader than the fact that their Mom's going to want to borrow their new book.

And that's the thing isn't it? If you care about the books that your children read you should take an active interest in what they are reading. It is not up to the public library service to monitor what your children read. That is your responsibility as a parent.

I do not believe that my children will be corrupted by literature. I think there are many books out there that might challenge them in the way they feel about certain things, how they think about certain things and how they view the world in which they live. I am not scared by this. I welcome it. I want my children to learn to think and to morally interrogate this world. They should not accept it at face value. They should have values of their own which they arrive at not only by instruction but through their own exploration. And reading - all sorts of reading - in invaluable in growing up a well rounded individual. I hope my kids will never feel they have to hide a book from me (as I did from my mother). I hope they will always know that they can come and discuss with me anything they read that they love, hate, are confused or enthused by. What I hope most of all is that my children will always have books that they will want to read.

I have to admit to you now that I have not read The Bermudez Triangle but I have read several other books by Maureen Johnson and I have to tell you that she is a superb writer. She writes about quite weighty subject matter without judgement, with the lightest of touches and she is also a wonderful humourist. It moved me very deeply that she appreciates so much that her books have touched the lives and helped teenagers who are struggling with issues - whether it is with their own sexuality, or with bereavement or simply with first love. I for one am very grateful for writers like her.

Young adult books are meant to relate to the lives of our young adults and as such will frequently have content which is too grown up for the average middle grader. This does not make it an adult book. It does not make it a smutty book. Our children will be faced with making tough choices in their lives and reading about those subjects can help to equip them to make good choices. And I for one do not want some Pink Jacket Lady with a stick up her ass censoring the books available to my child just because she was too damn lazy to inform herself about the reading material available to her child.

Crossroads.

My husband asked me last night if I'd given up blogging and for a second there I had to think about it. I mean what's going on with me? I've written very little in the way of fiction in the last few weeks, my blogging posts are rarer than hen's teeth and I've even been a bit scarce on the blog-visiting front.

The honest answer is I'm not sure but I know it started with my performance review at work. I was confronted with a big decision about my career. Do I continue down the route I'm on, developing my skills and possibly training further to be a teacher or do I resist that route knowing that it will inevitably take me farther away from my dream of being a writer. I'm so tired these days that I can't get my head around writing a blog post let alone plots and characters. I really enjoy my job but it's draining, physically, emotionally and intellectually. It feels like I'm at a crossroads but I'm just not willing to chose a route yet.

What I decided - pretty much on the spot - was that I would increase my hours but I would still be part time. I elected for more training in special needs with particular emphasis on autism and speech and language development. In the meanwhile I'm going to see how I feel about my writing after the summer holidays. I have six weeks off and that's plenty of time to discover whether this is what I need to do or if there is another path for me to take...