Catching A Spark

I’ve realised this week that I’ve been so full of self-recrimination for not pushing on with Novel 2 whilst waiting for news about ‘Fighting The Tide’ that I’ve been forcing the process rather than looking inside for the spark that ignites an idea. Capturing the elusive element that breathes life into a project requires concentration, an ability to be calm and listen to the inner voice. The spark for ‘Fighting The Tide’ was kindled by my love of sleepy, seedy seaside towns and I enjoyed writing it so much that it’s going to be quite a blow if I don’t get the news I’m hoping for. And, essentially it’s the waiting that’s holding me back. Good news and I’ll be storming into Novel 2, (working title ‘Make, Do and Mend’ because it’s about making a mistake, doing something else and mending in the process). Bad news… well, no prizes for guessing how I’ll feel. In the meantime I’ve tried to press on and the results have been mixed!

Thursday 3 May: My Study
After years of waiting I’ve finally got my own room where I can spread out and leave work in progress. From where I sit I look out across the Preseli Hills (and yes, today the bloody builders – they’re back). But am I drawing inspiration from nature? No, I’m not. I’m looking at the rudey-nudey farmers calendar my sister gave me as stocking filler for Christmas thinking that it’s scaring the bejesus out of me this month! Just what is that man hiding behind his drill? On second thoughts, should any of you be married to or cohabiting with Mr May 2007, best not tell me as I’m already feeling a bit faint. My ‘Farmers In Their Nuddy-Pants’ calendar is propped on a shelf so that I can put it away when guests of a sensitive disposition visit… remember Mil?

Elvis, on the other hand, is on proud display (no, no, Elvis isn’t in his nuddy-pants –that would be like the Queen doing a Dove advert). There’s nothing Lily and I like better than a tacky Elvis calendar and this year Lily excelled herself. From the back of the door the King broods at me dressed in cowboy gear in tasteful (ish) black and white. It’s a pleasant contrast to April where he was sporting rather a lot of man-tan and mascara.

Ho hum… not a lot of writing going on this study, as you can tell. Right, Faith has summoned up a ‘release’ angel card for me so it’s time to stop staring at the wall.

Friday 4 May: A New Beginning
Dadaaaaaa! I have a first chapter! Sheesh! I’ve gone all round the houses and pretty much come back to where I started. The acid test is running it past Tom. At one time I wouldn’t have allowed Tom to read anything I’d written, I mean, I know him! Why it should be easier to bare yourself to complete strangers but go all coy with your nearest and dearest I don’t know.

Anyway, Tom is a terrific proof reader (I have to say he’s also so pedantic I feel like pulling out what’s left of his hair sometimes, me being Mrs Slipshod and all). More than that Tom is the last man who would choose to read romantic comedy so he scans my work with a very cold eye and plenty of ‘Do you really mean that?’ and ‘This doesn’t make sense to me at all!’ comments. The upshot is that when I write now I’m constantly asking myself if the reader is still with me or if they’ve given up and flung the book down in disgust?

Saturday 5 May: Temper Tantrum
The Telegraph announce their short list for the ‘Novel In A Year’ competition and my entry is not amongst them. Cue mega-hissy fit and much chucking around of toys from yours truly. I visit the website, scan the shortlist and cheer up a bit since my work is nothing like any of these. Of course it isn’t, I hear you cry, yours is worse that’s why you weren’t short-listed! Well, maybe, that’s true but I think it’s because my writing looks frothy on top even though does have a darker, more serious layer underneath. I can’t see very much froth amongst this list so, once again have fallen foul of the fluffy rule (or fallen fowl – perhaps Chickenix and the Green Duck helped to judge?).

Sunday 6 May
A six-mile run restores my mood – well, it would, I’m too tired to rant and rave now.

Monday 7 May: Mourning
I wake up desperately missing my Dad. It’s almost two years since he died and May was the last complete month he saw. Every poignant, funny, angry, joyful and raw moment returns and I long to hear his voice again. At such times the spiral of grief is overwhelming, the thought that I will never see him again is almost unbearable so I try to salvage a memory that will help me come to terms with losing him.

Today I remember a trick he learnt that delighted us both. Once I knew his prognosis I’d made up mind to spend as much time with Dad as I could so had taken to dropping in to whichever hospital he was in to keep him company. On this particular occasion I planned to surprise Dad who wasn’t expecting me. A childhood illness had left him partially deaf and background noise interfered with the limited hearing he had so when I entered the ward and saw him with his back to me looking out of the window I knew I’d have to walk up to him before he knew I was there.

But I was the one who was surprised as, without turning his head, he said ‘Hello Miss Chris!’ After that it didn’t matter where he was or what shoes I was wearing he could always pick my footsteps out and went on to prove it time after time. Miss Chris. His name for me. And suddenly I can hear him saying it, only in my head, of course, but it helps.

Tuesday 8 May: Picking up the Pieces
I’ve gone back to basics, laying down the bones of ‘Make, Do and Mend’. For me that’s a timeline: when the story takes place, dates of important events, sketching in the peaks – and the troughs. Once that’s in place I get a better idea of the supporting cast required, possible sub-plots and my subconscious starts to put the pieces together. I’m beginning to see a glimmer of light when the phone rings. It’s Rose, who is about to email her dissertation to proofread, now that’s one interruption I don’t mind, especially when I read it and nearly burst with pride. My two daughters have been brilliant, wonderfully supportive even when I’ve plundered their lives for copy. They’re also keeping everything crossed for ‘Fighting The Tide’ (probably with cries of ‘Please, don’t let Mum write about us ever again!). Oh well, we’ll see what this week brings.

Hwyl fawr!

The painting is 'Drygarn' by Tom Tomos and shows some of the view from my study.