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Posts Tagged ‘writing’

(This blog, since I have nothing to say again today, is taking its cue from the ‘daily blog’ themes provided by the wordpress gang – ‘Starting Over’). I’m going to take the title at face value and riff on it for a while and see where that gets me. Free writing in public, as it were. Maybe that makes this a ‘free post’. Phew! Must be crazy…. but here goes. Giving myself a strict time limit of 5 minutes and will not correct, delete or otherwise edit anything while I write. Will only correct typos (there are bound to be a lot of those) afterwards. Whether I decide to publish it or not is entirely up to me, right 😉 ?

Starting Over…

Well, I’m doing that right here so I must be doing something right. Feels like I’m always starting again actually, reinventing myself. I’ve had more jobs (wildly differing in nature too, not just mild mellow shades of difference between them but substantially massively north – south differences). Like wow! that would take you a few years of studying to be able to get your head round that new topic. And just when I get my head round I get bored and move on. Each time you start again of course you’re at the bottom, the newbie, the one who doesn’t know. That’s what it’s like always too being interdisciplinary – never knowing fino in fondo all the stuff that all the others spend their trainspotting time on.

Never was the trainspotting type myself or so I thought. Then have recently realised I’m a stickler for details. Sometimes these details really trip me up, always damage my writing. Can’t just go right in and start from the middle. Have to always start from the beginning, whether it’s interesting or not. Because the cause and effect, tracing those, seem so important. More important sometimes than the story. Or maybe it’s just a question of getting stuff off your chest. Oh oh one minute to go and have only written rubbish. Free writes can be like that sometimes. So here’s a warning: don’t do this at home. Editing is good and necessary and what writing is about.

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I posted that last entry in this (my old) blog by accident. As a New Year’s Resolution I had decided to write a post every day and thought for that I should start a new blog (‘The Means To Make It’). I had been fiddling round with the wordpress themes, activating a new one every ten minutes and thinking, if anyone was actually reading the thing they’d be getting a bit dizzy.

And then I got a comment on THIS blog, even though the entry must have been up here for all of 2 minutes (Thanks Pete Moorhouse – special friend and amazing scuptor/educator). But now I’m back on this blog I feel so much more comfortable and am thinking ‘if it ain’t broke…’ So, the challenge here will be the same. Write every day for 365 days (although I won’t beat myself up if I don’t make it), beginning January 1st (if I manage to get tecchi, I’lll transfer the 5 other entries over to here). Mission is regularity and commitment over and above quality – though in the belief that the discipline of writing every day has its own blossoming repercussions – and style, quality, ideas and identity will eventually come through. So wish me luck and join the ride!

ImagePhoto and design – all Micky’s!

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So this life I lead always puts me in a dilemma:

  • the freedom of being able to up sticks, move country, be here to help the kids settle in, see that they’re fed, done their homework, can tell me about their days, shout at me;
  • the freedom to be able to hang out the laundry…sweep the floor, clean the toilet,
  • the freedom to fit in around everyone else when necessary;
  • the freedom to not have a live-in au pair,
  • not (right now at least) have a cleaner,
  • not have to commute an hour to work or come home just at weekends…
  • not have to make continuous complicated arrangements for pick-ups and drop-offs and holidays and..aaah, the stress…
  • the freedom to – if I feel like it – sit down and write…

BUT there is a lot of frustration too in having to always recreate a schedule, find my place, have no fixed work abode. And right now, no real money that I can call my own, earned money. [God, this is such ancient politics – not being officially paid for housework or childcare – or blogging for that matter!]

Sooner or later I will start up Wordplay again. I’ll teach creative writing in the evenings to adults, I might teach life writing in the mornings to mums, I might teach creative writing after school to kids. I’ll run a monthly book club, I’ll find a wonderful retreat centre and run creative writing residential weekends and holidays. I’ll go back to London every now and then, reunited with my lovely students and continue my programme of day workshops.

All these things I have been doing – and loving it – and it took a long time to set up and get the numbers. Most important of all, I finally found a home for Wordplay in Acton – at The Rocket, a pub with an upstairs function room full of character where I ran the book club, the courses, the short story slam, my farewell party…Now I have to find somewhere like that in Trieste. A place that has a good vibe, feels cultural, artistic, cosy. A place that would welcome creative writers and book readers. Where our relationship would be mutually beneficial (and therefore the room would be free!)

I have to reinvent Wordplay here in Italy (which means sell myself all over again, actually, which I am NO good at).

And the other always ongoing dilemma is whether to just leave it all to settle for a while and use this space to do some writing of my own. I could. I have lot to do. But somehow the yawning undisciplined space leaves me unproductive – and even more frustrated. It’s always better to have too much to do. 

Or maybe once I have stopped shelving and re-shelving my books, once the pictures are hung in their rightful places, the bed is bought, the lawn is re-laid, the flowers planted,  the dishes done…Once all that is done, maybe I will turn my mind to higher things.

Or maybe I’ll just keep writing this blog, in between moments, when my arms are aching from too much furniture removal and I feel the need to communicate with friends and strangers in the world out there and just share the small trials, tribulations and joys of this extraordinarily ordinary life.

What a luxury!

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