It’s Monday morning, the start of another working week, which was greeted by steely grey clouds at first light and the biting chill of a northeast wind. However, this was no ordinary morning because there was no rush hour, no scrabbling to find a parking place because as of 8.00 a.m. this morning, the small Island of Jersey, Channel Islands followed the UK’s lead, and officially went into lockdown.
In January, I was in full steam ahead writing-mode. I honestly believed I could finish book number two by the end of April. I was writing with a confidence I had never felt before, and it was a fantastic feeling. Unfortunately, my purple patch fizzled out about 3 weeks ago as the Coronavirus shit really began to hit the fan.
Perhaps I had been blinkered up to that point? Hoping Covid-19 would just go away.
Now just doesn’t feel like the right time to be writing a murder mystery spoof. So, it’s not actually the curse of the writer’s block that is to blame; it’s the Coronavirus Curse. The inability to focus on the writing that I love.
My pièce de résistance is probably a toss-up between tuna pasta and stew. We have only been lying low for a couple of weeks, but I have already received a few pointed comments wrapped in sarcasm and drizzled with a little innuendo.
I have more cookery books than I have ever cooked anything sensational, so I’ve no excuse, and I am making an effort.
We half-ran through the bustling streets, hand in hand. The soft, south-westerly wind carried the pungent smells of cooking meat and bubbling sauces into our faces, reminding us that it’s time to eat, and we are spoilt for choice. Neon lights flash around us, the pounding heartbeat of the Continue Reading
After a week of soaking up the sun, I woke up to what sounded like gravel being hurled against my window this morning. Only it wasn’t gravel, it was rain/hail. It was only 5.45 a.m., which was annoying as I didn’t have to go anywhere. Still, I had five hours of sleep, instead of four.
It’s horribly surreal. Waking up to another beautiful morning and knowing the proverbial shit is about to hit the fan.
Life as we know it is about to change.
The fields around me were ploughed and planted with potatoes yesterday. Superficially, life as we know it appears to be carrying on as normal, but a big, black underbelly of invisible menace is lurking, waiting to strike.
Looking at life from the funny side has never been more difficult, as my compromised immune system and I prepare to stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the world to face the biggest battle of our lives, Covid-19.
I’m confused. We are caught up in the worst public health crisis for a generation. Yet, we are expected to carry on regardless with a big, black Covid-19 cloud hanging over our heads.
I could log these brain farts I’ve been having as senior moments, but my oldest friends will tell you I’ve always been away with the fairies. So there is little hope for me now.
Perhaps, constantly sweating over creating new plotlines, means I am beginning to lose my own?
I think a break will do me good.
It’s hard to keep the comedic banter going, now that the Coronavirus has been declared a World Health Emergency. The enormity of its threat to our very existence has rather paled Brexit Day into submission. Not that this day is anything to celebrate, its more like a wake. It’s a day I hoped would never come, along with half the British population.
During my supine week, the fug in my head made it difficult to process most things, let alone finish the edit. I did still retain the brainpower to operate the TV remote, but everything I watched made me cry.
PLEASE HELP AUSTRALIA! An estimated 1 billion animals have been lost in the fires as scientists warn that species of mammals, birds, insects, fungi and plants may have been wiped out before they were even discovered. Even animals that survive the fires are still at risk.
I started off 2020 with targets, and have been thrown off course already.
I’ve been knocked for six by some microscopic little bastard that has invaded my body and seems reluctant to leave.
NYE’s never fails to evoke a degree of emotion, even more so when it’s the end of a decade. As a subconscious switch was about to turn on the emotional NYE waterworks, one of the five framed pictures of flowers above my bedhead, all embroidered by my late mother, just happened to fall on my head.
I had to laugh. Was it my mother’s way of wishing me a happy new year from some parallel universe? Or was the Universe itself sending me a positive sign that, if I keep a clear head, 2020 just might be my year?
Bring it on!
Just Say It is my first novel, which I ‘finished’ in June 2019 and, I’ve been editing it ever since! It is the first and last time I write a novel pantser-style; I will never throw myself into writing a book again without much-advanced planning.
I still have faith in Lisa Grant and her dysfunctional family, and in 2020 I hope to convince an agent that her story is a viable one. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with few members of the cast.
I don’t seem to have found my 2019 Christmas spirit yet. Rushing out to buy a Christmas tree hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind, as in previous years. Bringing home a Nordmann fir and decorating it in front of a roaring fire while enjoying a glass or two Continue Reading
Earlier this year, I met Gemma Dupont, who is a part of my Word Press blogging family, as well as a fellow aspiring author. Enthusiastic, bright and bubbly; her motto has always been… caring is sharing.
Gemma very recently finished writing her memoir, Perpetual Helix, all bar one final, professional edit. She is so close, yet so far away from achieving her dream to see it in print.
This week, Gemma has received a truly devastating diagnosis. Stage 4 lung and brain cancer.
Gemma urgently needs an editor who would be willing to get the manuscript to the stage where Gemma can, at least, self-publish, as a legacy for her partner and her children.
I am grateful to Word Press for introducing me to Grammarly.
I have been resisting the temptation to buy it and download it onto my Mac, having successfully convinced myself that I would buy it as some sort of reward after I
a) Got shortlisted for a competition or
b) Found myself an agent
I’ve been stockpiling again, but not in anticipation of a no-deal Brexit, which may, or may not, happen in 10 days’ time. At 7.30p.m last night, a lorry load of our annual supply of perfectly dry logs was offloaded outside our garage.
We have been benefitting from this arrangement for about five years and have always taken a cavalier approach to the storing and stacking of the logs, which we always do as soon as the load arrives and involves a considerable amount of physical exertion.
In Jersey and Guernsey, we are only live a short hop from St. Malo and our Entente has been extremely Cordiale for years, thank you very much. Yet the repercussions of Brexit will affect us just as much as everybody domiciled in the UK mainland, not least when it comes supermarket shopping, as all our supplies are brought in by boat.
I’ve forgotten when I hugged you for the last time. It was so long ago because the evil disease took its time to destroy your body and your vibrant mind until it sucked the very last breath from your lungs.
And when you reach that woman of a certain age status, you’re body is hijacked by menopausal madness. Suddenly you’re itchy, bitchy, sweaty, sleepy, bloated and psycho as your oestrogen levels plummet.
I am realistic when it comes to travelling. No trip goes without a hitch. Trains, boats and planes rarely run to schedule, they are susceptible to the weather, and they go techie at the slightest provocation. Getting on and off the rock I have chosen to make my home, is often Continue Reading
VIDEO: This is YOUR time to realise YOUR dreams.
Happy Saturday Everyone! Hope you are out achieving your dreams? 🙂
“You may be the only person left who believes in you, but it’s enough. It takes just one star to pierce a universe of darkness. Never give up.” Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway
By the time dawn came around, my self-belief had taken a nose dive and I was considering giving up writing and doing something less stressful, like bungee jumping. But, writing is a leap into the unknown. You need to constantly keep challenging yourself, bumbling along in the inside lane is not going to get you anywhere.
“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
Test your mettle on a daily basis, you will never know whether how good you are until you take that leap of faith.