Category: First book

Why have I been so quiet? It’s not that I haven’t been writing anything. Just not a recent blog post. Perhaps I didn’t think I had anything of (huge enough) interest to report?

Yet, even if I’d shared ‘I don’t feel I’ve anything of interest to report’, it would have been something. I’m supposed to be documenting my writing journey – and I haven’t been.

I asked myself why I wasn’t blogging: ‘What’s happening here, don’t you want to share your writing journey?’

‘Not always’, was the honest answer. Sometimes it feels too personal. I don’t always feel like putting my feelings, and naked vulnerability, out into internet-land. Conversely, there are also times when I want to share everything with the world!

Anyway, as you may have noticed, I’ve been going through a bit of a hermit-phase (as one friend so beautifully put it). But I haven’t stopped writing.

Where have I been writing? Mostly in my journal. Writing in my journal has been (pretty much) a daily practice since I was twelve.

Fast forward forty-eight years to the present day.

Apart from journaling, I have been busy transcribing thirteen year old Claire’s earliest diary, with a view to it going into the book.

The question is, how much of my actual diary do I feature? All of it? Or just snippets? Do I add my current-day comments to what I find there? Or do I let the diary speak for itself? I’m still puzzling over those questions.

I know there are people out there who like reading (published!) diaries. I’m one of them. Diaries are so real and raw. So . . . human. And we are all human.

I like the kind of diaries that are free, honest and open, with a fair amount of soul-searching (and not too much complaining). Diaries that ponder the deeper meaning of life, not just record the daily trivia (although that too can be interesting, or amusing, at times). I hope my diaries are like that.

Some diaries are deathly boring. I hope my diaries are not like that.

I’m still figuring everything out and trying to answer the many book-related questions, buzzing around in my head. I’m confident I will figure it all out. In the meantime, I’m continuing to journal every day and to transcribe my oldest diaries.

I had an idea to feature my current diary alongside my earliest diary. After all, as I transcribe them, I’m also writing about the old diaries in my current journal, as things occur to me. I’m filling in some of the memories I didn’t write down – largely because, at age thirteen, I discovered my Dad had been reading my diary. Shock-horror. It took me a while to relax and write freely again.

If I publish the oldest, and the most current diary, alongside each other, it could be quite an interesting contrast. What I write in my journal now is very different to what I wrote at thirteen. I’d also like to think my writing has improved since then (wink).

Another question: Is my diary only interesting to me, or will it be interesting to others?

There is only one way to find out. Share it.

“But it isn’t ready to share yet!” I hurriedly cry. Just in case anyone rushes to volunteer as a beta reader. Rest assured, when that time comes, I will put the call out to a few friends, including (gulp) those interested folks who have signed up to this blog. (No pressure to actually be a beta reader though!)

I must say, sharing my diaries is not at all frightening to me, all the while I’m not sharing them. Once I come to share them – through my book or this blog, it may be a completely different story. (Cue opening bars of Beethoven’s 5th ).

Okay, time to end now, I think I have updated where I’m currently ‘at’. I’m sorry I was blog-absent for so many weeks. I am considering doing a blog post update, once a month. Please let me know if you’d like to hear from me more often. Thanks for sticking with me so far, I really appreciate it.

Happy writing 🙂

I took my breakfast out into the garden and chose a spot under the magnolia tree, in the shade.  I gazed all around, munching my cornflakes, enjoying the garden.

A wood pigeon was busy, hunting for single twigs on our lawn. She’d find one then fly up, almost vertically, to the evergreen tree.  A quick look around to make sure no one was watching, then she sidled along the branch and disappeared into the foliage.  

This procedure was repeated over and over, as she built her nest, twig by twig.  Once, she landed on a branch and realised that this branch was not the one that led to her nest. She tilted her head, shifted her gaze, and quickly identified the correct branch and flew to it.  I can’t imagine she would ever be lost or confused, for long.  

I want to be that pigeon. I want to know immediately if I am on the wrong branch and to speedily identify where my correct branch is. And I think I’m beginning to do that now.  I’m making a point of reviewing as I go.

It’s important to track our dream’s progress and where we are on our path to it.  Not in the way of impatiently asking, ‘How much longer is this going to take?’  

Now, for me, it’s more about being clear on what I’m doing and how I’m doing it.  I’m asking myself questions, almost daily, as a reminder to keep myself on track.  Questions like:

What book am I writing? 

Why am I writing it?  

Why do I want to publish it?

Am I still taking the appropriate action to progress the book?

What’s the next step?

I’m doing this because I don’t want to waste any more time.  It takes not just time, but sustained effort, to gather all these twigs to build a nest.  I want to make sure I’m always on the right branch, building the right nest.

One twig seems like nothing, yet if you keep at it, collecting and carefully placing those twigs, the nest will eventually be built.  

I watched that pigeon for a long time.  She was relentless in her work and yet she was not hurrying or panicking.  I’m pretty sure she wasn’t worrying about how long it was taking her.  She simply did what she needed to do, slowly and methodically, certain the nest would be ready, in time for her eggs.

Like Mrs Pigeon, I am working with my diaries, editing and re-writing, one day at a time and one month at a time. Slowly but surely, I’m building my book.  I hope, if I continue to focus and take it steady, my book will one day be ready. Completed, in perfect time.

In my last post I revealed how I’m trying a new process or habit, to help me write my book.  Simply, I’m committing to working on my book for a teeny tiny period of time each day. 

A tiny commitment

What time period did I choose to commit to?  Just 10 minutes. I know, it sounds ridiculous.  Ten minutes a day is nothing.  Exactly! The reason I chose such a tiny amount of time is because it is so easy to do.  

I set an alarm that goes off after 10 minutes of writing time – it has a lovely, uplifting chime. When I hear that chime, my writing work for the day is done.

Of course, after 10 minutes, I’m usually in the writing-flow and want to do another 10 minutes.  That is what happened on the first day.  I did 40 minutes of writing in total. 

A week of 10-minute commitments – summary: 

Tuesday: Wrote for 10 minutes. It was easy and it flowed, so I continued.  

Total writing time: 40 minutes

Wednesday:  Similar feeling of flow and wanting to continue.

Total writing time: 70 minutes.

Thursday: The writing flowed again.

Total writing time: 90 minutes

Friday:  It was a struggle to do 10 minutes.  I spent most of the time cutting out great swathes of stuff I’d written previously.

Total writing time: 10 minutes

Saturday: I wrote nothing.

Sunday: I didn’t feel like doing it.  I told myself I only had to write for 10 minutes, and anyone can do 10 minutes, so I did.  

Total writing time: 40 minutes.  

10-minute sessions add up

So far, I make that 25 slots of 10 minutes.  This equates to 250 minutes, or about four and a quarter hours of book-writing in a week – with little effort and no overwhelm.

Monday: After days of endless rain there was a dry-weather window, so I spent the afternoon at my allotment. Deeply satisfying.  

Later, instead of my book, I worked for several hours on this blog post (too long, methinks, but equally satisfying).  Then I left the blog post overnight to percolate.  

So, zero book writing time on Monday.

Today: I cut this blog post by three quarters, leaving a quarter remaining.  (I must get better at writing shorter blog posts).

So far today, I’ve spent 20 minutes working on my book and may do more writing later.  The thing is, I’ve achieved double my 10-minute commitment and that is a cause to celebrate and feel good about myself.  

Keep it going

I know it’s important to keep the energy going, of any project that’s dear to our hearts, to engage with it and give it our energy.  

I also know that starting a writing session, whether for blog or book, is the hardest part – hence the tiny 10-minute writing time commitment.  However, once started and the momentum is going, it’s easier to keep going.  

Once that happens, you can see progress and everything feels easier.  You feel like you’re getting somewhere and that you are in control of the process.  With that, comes a feeling of increased self-esteem, satisfaction and confidence.  

And don’t we all want that?

Take breaks and enjoy!

To sum up, I think this new practice is working for me.  The only mistake I made, was trying to increase my time commitment too soon – and I forgot to take short breaks.  This created a slump on Day 5.  Lesson learned.

So, enjoy your creative projects. May you have time for all of the things that give you joy, satisfaction, and increased self-esteem.  🙂

Note:  Thanks to Joseph Michael for his course, Writer’s Block Relief, and the ideas he outlined there.  Taking his course shifted my first-book-writing stumbling blocks.  The teeny tiny time-block commitments were just one idea in the course that I’m finding valuable – and liberating.

Regarding my book-writing progress, I wasn’t feeling hopeful at all these last ten days.  I also knew I was due to write a blog post but didn’t know what to write. I tried not to panic about not knowing, as five more days went by.

Gardening is one of the things that soothes my soul (makes the world brighter) and gets me back into balance. So I decided to stop worrying about writing today and visit my allotment plot.  

(For those who don’t know, a plot is an allotted piece of land rented from the local Council.  Its purpose is to grow vegetables and fruit, and some flowers, if you wish).  

I spent several hours working on my plot and felt so much better.  I dug in the dirt, weeded, hoed, stretched every muscle, erected bamboo cane supports and planted some runner bean seeds.  The seeds were very easy to push into the fine soil.  I patted them down lovingly and watered them in.  

When I got home I had a long soak in a bubble bath.  Then I read an old diary entry from last May, where I had written an outline plot for my book and sketched out the three acts. I was surprised by (and liked) what I’d written.  

“Hey, maybe this book of mine is okay after all?”  

I had started to feel more hopeful.

Then I sat down at my desk, turned on the fairy lights and wrote this blog post.

Having felt despondent for over a week, feeling I wasn’t getting anywhere fast – either at my allotment plot, or with my book writing, I realised my despondency was just a state of mind.

Gardening had eased my troubled mind. I’m doing fine after all – and so too (I think) are both plots. 😉

Book One: Progress update

I’ve started transcribing my earliest diary (1972) and  I’ve also transcribed a notebook, that was really an Autograph book, from 1966 (I was six). 

I remember asking all my family, and anyone else who came to the house, to write something in my autograph book. No one wanted to write more than their name:

“It’s an Autograph book, you’re only supposed to write your name.”

“I know, but can you write something else as well?”

“But it’s an autograph book. You’re not meant to write anything else .”

“I know! Write something else. Pleeeease.”

“Like what?”

“Something else. Just write something.”

After much pleading and persuading from me, most people had a stab at writing something, other than just their name.

My Mum wrote:

By hook or by crook, I’ll be first in this book.

“Is that all?” I asked, “Can’t you write something else?”

“It’s supposed to be short. It’s a rhyme. I’m saying, I’m the first in the book. That’s it.”

“Can you write something else?”

“No, that’s it.”

It was Christmas. My Dad’s friend John Kenny was visiting us. He wrote:

May you have many more happy Christmas days.

Well, I was only six years old, so I would hope so.

My sister wrote:

Laugh and the world will laugh with you, Cry and you will cry alone.

I didn’t understand it. I asked my Mum, who explained it to me, then I did understand it. Why wasn’t anyone writing happy things in my book?

Next my Aunty Sheila:

Little Willie in the best of sashes

Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes

By and by the room grew chilly

But no one liked to poke Poor Willy.

“So, he fell in the fire? And was burnt?

Why?

Why didn’t they want to poke him?”

To me, poke meant prod. I didn’t know it meant stoking a fire. It was a sad story and I didn’t see the humour in it, at all.  I just wished someone would write something jolly in my book.

On the next page I had drawn a tower block (I lived in a block of flats). At first, it appears that the building is on fire,  with me in it – and, like a time-lapse photo, I’m in three different places.  I know it’s me, as I’ve written the words ME and drawn arrows, pointing at all three people.  I’m waving out of two of the windows and a chimney pot, with a camera in my hand.  

Looking more closely, I realise the building is not on fire.  What I thought were curling flames seems to be a winding route, or path, from ground level to chimney.  Or it could possibly be a Rapunzel-like rope.  

Far below, on a path leading from the block of flats, are people with guns in their hands, taking aim at something.  Along the paths are other people, all with one leg raised high, at right-angles to their bodies. They are either dancing, running, or goose-stepping.  

I think around this time I was watching The Man from Uncle on t.v.   I also think this was my first Story Board.

The camera might be from a spy briefcase set we had.  It was probably plastic, but the camera worked. However, from what I remember, I think I mostly took photos of drain covers and pigeons.

My Nanny wrote:

I slept and I dreamt that life was beauty.

I woke and I found that life was duty.

And that was the last time I ever asked anyone to write in my autograph book. I just wrote in it myself and drew pictures.

I’d love to hear how your projects are coming along. Simply hit reply to one of my emails, or use the contact form here.  

Happy Writing!