What happened to weekends?

When I was a child my Father used to come home from work on Friday night and that was it, the weekend started. He never brought work home with him and weekends revolved around him playing golf Saturday and Sunday mornings (my Mother must have been a saint!), my Mother and I shopping, visits to the pub and long drives to visit places - does anyone ever just go for a drive any more? The visits to the pub were more when I was a teenager and my brother who is seven years older than me was still living at home. If this was planned the traditional roast went out the window and my Mother would decide to do a steak pie which sounds great but my Mother's expertise at making pastry always became suspect after several halves of Guinness (it was before wine was generally being drunk at home - she became an officienado (sp?) of that much later on when her favourite phrase was 'Is it wine time yet?'). When we got home she was inevitably a little tipsy and as I said would make (and I mean make not just pull out of the freezer) pastry which was fine but it was when it came to rolling it out and placing it on the steaming pie. Inevitably it always ended with floating islands of pastry on a sea of gravy but it tasted delicious.

Why am I reminiscing? Because I seem to have lost sight of weekends. For example this weekend should have started Friday night but what was I doing I was marking? Then yesterday the only time I left my room was to act as a taxi driver for my son other than that I was battling with two papers - one for a symposium and one for a conference. I thought I was happy with the symposium paper until I re-read it and realised that there was no cohesion to it. In fact it was pretty crappy. And the conference paper is about something that is way out of my comfort zone. Even now I have no confidence in either of them. From there I went on to more marking - I need to stay on top of it as there is more coming in this week and the week after. I ended up doing a bit of reading for my PhD - the only bit that was really for me whilst listening to the Elton John concert - yes that triggered quite a bit of reminiscing too. Please don't misunderstand all this work is not because I am slacking during the week just that I don't have enough time in the days to fit it in. Today we got an extra hour in bed but I was up just as early and started marking. Just have to plan classes for this week and if I can manage it I want to do more on my PhD. I think I am still on track with it but get the feeling it could be swept away at any moment. Tomorrow is the first day of November, it is a month when a decision has to be made as to when I am going to submit. I have no idea which way it is going to go.


Hope your weekend let you find the child in you again.

Note to self: must remember what a weekend is for.

Chicken House and Imogen Cooper - reminding us why we love to write

It is Sunday morning and I have just been reflecting on the week. In some ways it was a very long week as it was my first week back having been ill and by the end of it I must admit I was exhausted. I did do some stupid things too - like forgetting that I am now feeding during the day so have a backpack and tube running from the back pack to my stomach. And yes I did the inevitable I caught the tube in the door and snapped it. Luckily no major damage in that it didn't pull the tube out but I did have to rebuild it! I need to become aware of my surroundings again. Something I had got very lazy about when feeding overnight. There were no concerns then about walking into a crowded place or watching out for potential tube snatching traps. I am sure I will get better at remembering I have it there. I have to say the students have been absolute stars about it and so supportive. Bless them all.

In other ways the week was short. I had a meeting with AM re the journal which I am currently pulling together and is beginning to look really good again. But the pressure is on to get it sorted by 1st November - not easy when the software I use is only available at uni and I am teaching so much but I will get there.

Another important part of the week was a visit by the wonderful Imogen Cooper, who is the editor at Chicken House. A publishing company set up by Barry Cunningham ten years ago which focuses on children's book. Imogen very kindly came to talk to our MA students. She was an absolute joy to listen to and made the whole scary world of publishing a lot less scary and a lot more understandable and approachable. One of the highlights for me was how Imogen explained that they believe in the old fashioned way of editing and developing a good relationship with any author they work with. It reminded me of the reason I write - because I have stories to tell that I want to share. It was wonderful to hear that here was a company who were interested in stories and their authors, who wanted the best for their readers and most importantly did not appear to be driven solely by profit, though obviously this has to be a major driving force but it was delightful that it wasn't the be all and end all.

Chicken House are forward thinking and are always looking for new voices. They run competitions to encourage new authors (One with the Times and one for postgrad students - both of which have deadlines this week - check their website for more info) and make the effort, as did Imogen, to come out and meet MA students who are studying writing for children. I am probably also biased as my friend Lucy Christopher (she is also doing a cw PhD) is published by them as is Sarah Rubin who did her MA at the same time as me at Winchester and is just such a lovely person. Imogen left us feeling so positive about the whole process of writing for children. We all know it is never going to be easy but at least we know there are people out there who appreciate our work.

I ended the week remembering why I write and how much I love it. Let's see what next week brings.

Curved Ball

Have you missed me? I've been gone a while. As from my previous posts you may be aware that things with my PhD were going well, as was teaching, and as was life in general. Did the alarm bells ring? No, I was happily complacent, secure in enjoying my life. But as I've learnt in the past things like this can't last and often it is my body that decides it is going to rip the rug from under me. It did it again. This time with an inflamed and infected gall bladder...and I've not known pain like. I would give birth any time in comparison to that.

Anyway enough of that. It has taken me away for a while but I am back possibly moving at a slightly slower pace and less complacent. I haven't touched the PhD for a week and it has been agony. Ideas kept popping into my mind, thoughts and moments of inspiration that I wanted to act on immediately but I did as I was told ( a rare thing if you ask both my children and my Director of Studies who all ganged up on me in hospital). But, and this is so hard to admit, it has been good and served a purpose. I have been able to step away and think things through. I have come away from the week with loads of thoughts for both the novel and the critical piece.

I have been contemplating meta-narratives and micro-narratives, representation and just the creative process in general. This last part was partly because I have been dipping in out of a book called 'Home at Grasmere' which was extracts from the journal of Dorothy Wordsworth. It was given to me by said DoS, I think in an attempt to shut me up. I expected detailed insight into how her brother William wrote. It wasn't to be instead it offered tantalising exerts of their day to day lives. It made me think, do we as writers share our processes with anyone or is it something that is so individual that we keep to ourselves for fear of lack of interest from others? As a lecturer of creative writing I must share some of my processes but am not sure I share them all.

I probably should also point out the week wasn't all a bed of roses. Strong painkillers and antibiotics can do dreadful things, allowing all your daemons out to haunt you night after night. I am glad I am off both now perhaps I can get back to some form of reality that isn't as a complacent as before but is looking to the future not backwards.

Stay well and oh how I wish I could drop in some music here...sorry you will just have to imagine your favourite song of all time

Fluid and multifaceted aspects of creative writing

Today has been a day of finishing things off that have been hanging over you for weeks. Things that you know need to be done but you avoid them because they require a bit of extra effort. So yes I do feel good now I have done them. I have written some reviews and written the majority of a discussion paper for a conference in November. I was aware that the whole time I was working on them I was aware of my PhD asking questions in the back of my head all the time. 'Is this relevant? Can we use it? How about using that in the discussion of your creativity?' As you can see the PhD never goes away or do you ever take a break from it. It is always there asking questions. not that I mind as most of the time what is coming to mind is very important and relevant.
In particular I was re-reading an article by Jeri Kroll that appeared in the latest edition of 'Text' (http://www.textjournal.com.au/) partly for the paper I am writing and also for my PhD as the article is entitled 'Living on the Edge: Creative Writers in Higher Education'. In particular her thoughts on 'exploiting a concept of writing research as fluid and multifaceted in order to enrich our discipline's study and practice at all levels' seemed particularly pertinent to me at this present time as I am coming towards the end of my PhD. I am particularly interested in the idea that research is fluid and multifaceted, Graeme Harper in his book 'On Creative Writing' talks about the fluidity of the discipline and its inability to stand still for any length of time. I think that is what I like about creative writing - it challenges you to stay standing in shifting sand. it allows you to develop and evolve whilst not inflicting any impenetrable restrictions.
What do you think?

Time

It has been a chaotic week filled with good bits, strange bits and some downright horrible bits. I am very conscious of time, or the lack of it. In my head I have a deadline for my PhD. It is good to work towards an end. I love my PhD but I need to finish it and move on.Though that has had to change slightly having taken on extra teaching at the last moment. Nothing like taking on a module you haven't taught on a week before it starts to increase the stress levels slightly! Luckily I have already read 3 out of the 4 set books and the 4th one is one I have heard good things about so will look forward to reading. Plus it looks a brilliant module which I think will be useful as well as enjoyable to teach.
There is someone in my life who is struggling with time at the moment particularly during the night. There is nothing slower than those hours when you are meant to be sleeping. They drag and allow a mass of negative thoughts to worm their way in as you are busy lying there waiting for the elusive sleep to arrive. When it doesn't, those negative thoughts can win. I hope sleep appeared for them last night and gave them some much needed rest.
Though it was me who couldn't sleep last night. The brain just wouldn't switch off. It was full of PhD stuff. I have several pages of notes that I wrote during the night. I have no curtains (joys of living in the middle of the countryside) so the glorious full moon shone straight into my room all night long. It was so bright I didn't even have to switch a light on to write these notes.
There were also elements of a possible story floating around my brain. I was at my Mum's house again yesterday (not for many more days) but for the first time I noticed the clock on her mantelpiece had stopped. It had stopped at the time she had died...bit of cliche but still weird!
Let's be honest time can be your friend or your enemy. Let's hope for everyone I know and care about it can be a friend for a while.
Because I am being naughty and writing this whilst in the office I can add music. This piece is from the sound track of my life, my boys were in to Green Day for quite a few years and I can't tell you how many times I heard this in the car when being a taxi driver.

PhDs, Stories and Memories

I am very disappointed that my computer won't allow me to put links to music on my blog. There are so many pieces I would like to put up particularly as music is a large part of my life. I like to think that I have my own sound track - perhaps that's just me ;-)
I have been working on my PhD novel today. Doing some rewrites and tightening bits up that needed it. I have left the big thing until tomorrow. My DoS suggested chapters 8,9 and 10 were talking heads. I read them again today and realised other than providing bits of back story or incidents that might or might not link to things later they are actually irrelevant. It is going to be a case of 'killing my darlings' tomorrow as I rip these chapters to pieces. Writing is rewriting, rewriting and rewriting again.
I have been working on the novel as I needed to break the day up a bit. I have been clearing my Mum's house again. The downstairs this time. The place is full of stories. The photo I have put up is my Mum and my three sisters sharing my graduation when I got my MA. My sisters and my brother are joining me at my Mum's house in two weeks as we finally sort it out before the house clearance person goes in. I have been trying to get rid of stuff that could be thrown - why would a person want 12 packets of imodium? Best not answer that.
I have been going through various boxes and envelopes full of photos and documents. Today the most poignant piece was a tiny scrap of paper that looked like it had been torn from a diary. It was dated 1918. It was written to my grandmother by my grandfather before they were married. It just said 'thank you for a perfect day.' It is good to know everyone has perfect days. But to me, as a writer, it is an image that is now filed away. I am sure a story can come out of that piece of paper. Then there is all the documents between the same grandmother and the person she worked for at the House of Commons. I think there may have been more to that too. Another story waiting to be written.
I have laughed and cried today, a photo opens the door to so many memories. We have a lot of photographs. This is partly because one of my sisters has a degree in photography. But also there are all the programmes - for graduations, for dinners at Woburn Abbey, medal ceremonies. Bits of newspapers carefully clipped out announcing the death of a famous aunty, of a sister who was arrested for putting jellies by parking meters (yes you did read that right), for a journey to Camp America, announcing success as head teacher or head injuries nurse. Blueys from another sister who with the TAs spent several months in Iraq. These snippets equal stories and memories. They are part of the patchwork that makes my family what it is. They are a rich source of stories but not stories that tell family tales but stepping stones to fictional ones. This is what we do as writers. This is what I am doing with my PhD novel. It doesn't relate to any family tales but other memories that have stirred a moment of inspiration. It could be as simple as seeing a single cross with a poppy on by a gravestone. There is a whole story behind that poppy.
OK that's enough for now, it is back to 'killing my darlings'

PhDs are not easy

That's a fact, PhDs are not easy but neither are they meant to be. Otherwise we'd all be doing them. Just sometimes it can be overwhelming when you actually stop and take stock of what needs to be done. Editing the novel for a start, which I am still very pleased with but am also very happy with the feedback I have received, it is both valid and accurate. When you have been writing something for a long time sometimes it is impossible to see the blindingly obvious things that need to be done to it. A serious case of not being able to see the wood for the trees. This is when your supervisors step in as they clear the decks so you can see properly again thankfully.
I also have the critical piece to write which sad as it may seem I am really looking forward to. I enjoy exploring the creative process critically and have many notes and ideas which I will be able to include. I get a real buzz at the thought of it.
Doesn't sound too bad does it? But then you include real life - papers to be written, lectures to be prepared and a journal to get out. That's when things get scary and it is best not to think. Someone once said to me you can't eat an elephant whole...weird but true. So for the next few months I won't be trying. I will be keeping my head down and just getting on with it. I may be plodding and taking small measurable steps each day but I will get there.
The point of this blog today, just to remind you that doing a PhD isn't an easy option and you've got to be mad to a certain extent to do one and I certainly qualify as that. But on the other hand the satisfaction of producing something you can be really proud of and to be called Dr is pretty good too ;-)