Tag Archives: housework

Clang, Clang, Clang…

…Bring out yer dead!

Image: fishandbicycles.com

Image: fishandbicycles.com

I’m never going to take being able to swallow without pain for granted again. This morning the glands in my neck are so swollen that I look like I’ve had my head inflated with a foot-pump, and every movement from the shoulders up has to be conducted with extreme care. I’ve had more paracetamol in the last three days than ever in my life before, and I’ve spent most of the past 48 hours feeling dizzy, and I hate every irritating second of it.

Also, I am the worst patient in the world. Fact.

This is a pretty accurate representation of me right now... Image: krank.ie

This is a pretty accurate representation of me right now…
Image: krank.ie

Plus, my house looks like it’s been ripped out of the ground, shaken around a bit and replaced upside-down, and there’s three days of dishes to be done, and a pile of laundry as tall as myself…


But it will all get done, eventually. I have to keep reminding myself that you don’t have to do all the things, all the time, but somehow I find myself trying, anyway. Since I got sick I have proofread two chapters of a thesis (which was very interesting, and satisfied my inner pedant so much), and written nearly 3,000 words of a new novel idea – and all this on top of trying to keep this blog going as best I can.

Yes. Yes, I am insane.

I probably shouldn’t have started working on a new book idea, really –  I still have work that needs to be completed on ‘Eldritch’. In fact, who am I kidding; I have loads of work still to do on that story. But, for whatever reason, an idea I’d had years ago, which I’d shelved, popped back into my fevered head the other day, and – strangely – a character came with it, and a backstory, and a suitably intriguing supernatural/creep-tinged motivation for the baddie, and a complicated relationship between my character and her mother, and I just had to try to pin it down on paper.

Now, I haven’t re-read my work yet. It may be that I’ve written 3,000 words of garbled nonsense, which will leave nobody in any doubt that they burst forth from the brain of a person with an elevated temperature. At least I was ‘with-it’ enough to make notes on my new plot and story arc, and with any luck they’ll be workable. It’s exciting – I haven’t worked on something new for a while, now.

But, as many before me (whose shoes I am not fit to untie, or whatever that saying is) have said, the first rule of creating art is: Finish It.

Run, Bilbo! Run! Image: lvl1.org

Run, Bilbo! Run!
Image: lvl1.org

So, perhaps what I should do is make some notes on the new project and leave it be for a while, until I’ve had a chance to redraft ‘Eldritch.’ Then, when that’s done, it’ll be time for the new, shiny project again. And the one after it, which is already taking shape in my brain. And after that – who knows?

Right now, though, I think it’s time for dishes and laundry. Oh, what a glamorous life we writers lead, eh? Yeah.

So, send me all your good-health vibes. Force my throat to shrink by sheer power of will. Meditate upon my plight and pray for my shakes to dissipate.

And, if you fancy dropping over and giving me a hand with the housework, that’d be awesome.

Yuck. Image: commons.wikimedia.org

Image: commons.wikimedia.org

Preparing for the Final Draft

It’s only now I’ve written it that I realise how over-dramatic the title of this post sounds – like I’m going to be shipped off-planet to help save humankind from alien warlords who love nothing more than smearing human entrails all over their breakfast, or whatever. The ‘draft’ I’m talking about is a bit less exciting than that, of course. The WiP sits, in its folder, on my kitchen table, resplendent in its livery of red pen corrections, waiting for me to finish it – and tomorrow, it will finally be time for me to begin that process.

I’m almost grateful that Christmas is nearly upon us, and that our house needed the cleaning of its life before the festivities kick off, because it’s given me something to do for the last few days as the WiP settled. I can really see the wisdom showed by my writerly idol, Alan Garner, who worked for years as a manual labourer between books because he wanted to do something of value, using physical (as opposed to mental) energy, allowing him to think about his books at the back of his mind. It seemed to work, as he’s written some of the most fabulous books in the English language! My WiP isn’t fit to tie the sandals of even the least of his books, of course, but I’ve also enjoyed the time away from the words. It’s good to sit down at the end of the day and feel pleasantly weary, muscles aching from being used, and your brain at peace. I worked for years in jobs which would leave me completely worn out at the end of the day, my brain screaming for rest – that sort of feeling is a creativity killer. But the sort of work I did yesterday is valuable, I think. A rest from your writing, once in a while, is important.

I won't be doing it in bare feet, though. Crazy stuff.

Who washes a floor in bare feet? Not me, in Ireland, in December, that’s for sure!

Today, I’m planning to wash the kitchen floor, which is one of those jobs I like – you get instant positive feedback, i.e. the floor looks shiny immediately, which pleases my inner magpie. But the best part of this job is, of course, the fact that the floor has to dry for several hours afterwards, meaning I have no choice but to take to a quiet corner somewhere and read. I really do love it when life gives you no option but to read! I’m currently devouring another Celine Kiernan book, ‘The Rebel Prince’, which is the last instalment in her Moorehawke Trilogy. I have a feeling I’ll be blogging a review of these books in the coming days.

It’s weird to think that other people may, one day, read my words, and hopefully they’ll like them. Maybe eventually some of these may be ‘paying customers’, but I know my family and friends will probably be my first readers. The other day, while having tea with a friend, I had an epiphany – it struck me that other people don’t have a clue what my book is about. I know that this seems obvious, but for whatever reason – probably because my brain has been steeped in this story for so, so long – it only really hit me at that point that nobody else in the world knows this whole story. It felt strange, exciting, almost exhilarating, and it makes me a little bit scared at the thought of sharing the story with other people. I never really appreciated before how difficult it is to have an inner life which seems as real, to you, as your outer life. Sharing a book you’ve worked on and loved for weeks and months and years is, actually, as intense an experience as introducing a partner to your parents for the first time, or trying to integrate two groups of friends. You desperately hope everyone likes each other, and that they’ll all get on. It’s easy to use this as an excuse to never share your fictive world with anyone else, but I’m not falling into that trap this time.

This final draft will be completed soon. I will have it prepared before Christmas. *Deep breaths* And then I will allow other people to read it, if they wish – starting with my darling husband, who has been bugging me to let him read it for weeks now.

Happy Thursday, wherever you are! Whatever you’re up to, I hope it’s more interesting than washing a floor…