Do you know there are about 4 trillion viruses in your body? Make you want an antibiotic IV? Well don't make a fist just yet. Most of the little buggers are benign, for now, and some are downright essential to our survival. 8 - 9% of our genome is viral. I think it explains a lot. We do have some overtly viral characteristics: insatiable drive to reproduce, irresistibly invasive, highly adaptive and often deadly. Viruses have been around wreaking their brand of havoc since the dawn of life. The list of viral diseases is long and terrifyingly ugly. But the list only tells what we know about viruses so far...what about the effects we aren't aware of, don't see? What are the viruses doing in our genomes? Lurking in our DNA...waiting for the right niche to come along? Then springing some unsightly rash, pustules or feverish insanity on it's host? Now I want the IV.

Makes me wonder about other invisible forces and influences working their magic on us. Gravity seems the most obvious example...what can I say about gravity except it keeps us grounded. Time...we measure time, waste it, lose it, pass, make, run out of and make the most of time, all in a vain attempt to control it...and what do we get from time? Not enough of it that's for sure. Randomness, is it a force? It certainly is an influence and sure as hell feels like a force when it kicks your door in and sends you spinning off to OZ. Evolution is a force...it's made us what we are...ask if we are products of nature or nurture and the answer is evolution. One beef with evolution though, wish we hadn't given up on the prehensile tail. Oh and one other, short lifespan.

Speaking of lifespan how does 400 years sound to you? Well, Ming the Clam got 405 years.

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In case you are unfamiliar with Brainpickings by Maria Popova you are in for a treat...

Between 1919 and 1923, when he was still in his twenties, English poet Robert Graves (July 24, 1895–December 7, 1985) published a short-lived and radical literary magazine titled The Owl. The foreword to its first issue declared, “The Owl has no politics, leads no new movement and is not even the organ of any particular generation.” The magazine went on to publish works by established writers like Thomas Hardy, W. H. Davies, and John Galsworthy, alongside vibrant illustrations by some of the era’s celebrated artists.

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This is a post I wrote a couple of years ago on my blog at Poetryontherun.com. I just reread the book and decided to share this...

Just finished reading The Killing of Crazy Horse by Thomas Powers. www.thekillikgofcrazyhorse.com Powers gives more space and credence to Native American oral history than is usually found in the history books. He offers a version of the truth that is plausible, fully fleshed and chocked full of human interest. The story is told from multiple points of view based on diaries, original interviews from newspapers of the day, first, second, third hand accounts recorded by anthropologists and a still lively oral tradition handed down through the generations. It is a compelling story told simply and directly by the people who lived it.

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The Weight

The chosen few will pass this night of gales
floating in the intimacy of friends and fine ideas.
While we who are confined to fixed positions
shake as if the wind might impale us
on the sharp spears of our lives.

We whisper as though our voices
will bring the walls down on our naked heads.
We sit behind closed windows, bolted doors,
feeling unprotected as rain shatters against the roof.

The weight of night, the weight of all nights
pales in comparison to this leaden darkness
pressing against our eyes.
The brilliant dawn is beyond our ken.




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I am posting this poem because it moved me deeply and I want to share it with everyone.

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Writing, Pain and Frankenstein's Monster
9/14/2012

"I do find writing a very painful process. I never understand writers who say it's enjoyable."
-Tom Wolfe

'A very painful process' - not quite sure what that means. Is writing really painful? Does it have to be in order to be good, be authentic? It's difficult, sometimes ideas and the right words are hard to come by, but I don't find pain in that kind of difficulty. So far I have scribbled 9 pages in a notebook, restarted this post 6 times and still don't have a handle on what I want to say, but this is not a painful process. In fact it is rather enjoyable. Thinking about what to say, how to say it, searching for inspiration, it's a nice conversation I am having with myself and all the authors I look to for help. When (if) I finally do hit on the right combination it is exhilarating, like the spark in Frankenstein's monster "It is alive!".

I am curious why so many writers feel pain, seem to require it. I can understand what John Gardner means when he says,"Art begins in a wound ...".The wound opens the door for pathos, empathy, compassion, emotional maturity, curiosity about the human condition. But the wound is not the Art, if anything Art is a healing balm for wounds. In that sense pain does seem a requirement to be fully human, much less a writer.

Where does the pain come from? It is real, not imagined by strange folk who claim the title 'writer'. It is not always and only caused by writing about pain. I have written poems about some very personal loses and they did not cause me to feel 'pain' but something more akin to longing and even a sense of release/relief. Graham Greene challenges us to write about happiness, "Pain is an easy write. In pain we're all happily individual. But what can one write about happiness?" Is there angst in a story about happiness? Well it might at least cause some doubt about one's ability to write, and I don't have to tell you how painful that can be.

What is it about writing that can bring someone like to Styron to say, "... writing is hell.", or Orwell to compare it to "... a long bout of some painful illness.", or Katherine Anne Porter to beat herself in the head each morning just to get started. One can find any number of quotes about writing and pain but a good explanation escapes me, there is still something fuzzy about the concept for me. I do not feel pain when I write, which might make me less than Deep. I can be okay with that, as long as I can tell the difference between shallow and Deep, I may keep from making a great flapping jackass of myself. Also, I don't feel particularly deprived by the lack of pain, considering where I am at in my little quest to pen the perfect poem pain is the least of my problems.

It seems to me that writing may be a lot like fire was to Frankenstein's monster, a nice little light in the dark, but painful to touch. I don’t know, if it is I suppose I’m ready to burn for my art.

That's all I have for now.

*****

John Gardner's full quote because it is so beautiful...

“Art begins in a wound, an imperfection—a wound inherent in the nature of life itself—and is an attempt either to learn to live with the wound or to heal it. It is the pain of the wound which impels the artist to do his work, and it is the universality of woundedness in the human condition which makes the work of art significant as medicine or distraction.”

John Gardner


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This academic year has been an odd one for me as I've ended up on a completely different path to the one I started on. I've also discovered myself a little bit more in the process, so it all worked out well eventually.

On the writing front, I certainly feel like I've been putting the effort in since Christmas. Back in September, my plan had been to keep my writing in the background, almost as a hobby, while I studied for my Psychology MSc (secretly hoping that somehow I'd either do well in a writing competition or have a literary agent show some interest so I'd get to do my writing full-time instead of just on the side).

I'm relieved that I managed to see the light as far as the Psychology Masters is concerned. I enjoy the subject a lot and I've acquired a fair bit of knowledge over the years, but I'm missing the passion I really ought to have to excel at it. I know I've made the right decision choosing to do a Creative Writing MA - and I'm still amazed I had the courage to apply for it in the first place.

So, the year: I started out not really knowing where to turn after finishing my Counselling Certificate and (finally) beginning to deal with some of the things that came up for me as a result of the course, stuff that I never even knew was there to discover. Months later and I'm still noticing the benefits. I've found my voice and truth in amongst the confusion and I'm sure my writing will help me with that too. My next challenge will be finding a way to get my words 'out there' and then eventually stepping away from memoir completely and finding a narrative that's separate from my past. Hopefully a new project will help with that.

I've enjoyed my daily writing routine this year. At the moment, my Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays look like this:

5.30 Coffee & writing for half an hour or so until I hear the kids messing around upstairs. Then it's getting the boys dressed, breakfasted, spellings with my 6 year old, teethbrushing, and lastly shoes on, bookbags ready and in the car.

9.00 Coffee and emails, submissions (if any), and keeping in touch with any writer friends, catching up with my writing group etc, then finally - writing, if there's any time left over.

10.30 Pilates, coffee, and reading (currently 'Solutions for Writers' by Sol Stein)

12.00 Lunch & coffee, listen to music

12.30 Writing

I finish at 2pm for the school run.

Sometimes I'm able to do some reading or writing in the evenings after the kids are in bed, but I don't do this as often as I used to now that I'm able to focus more on my writing. Lately, I'm finding that I actually get a bit of spare time to watch TV (Coronation Street, Have I Got News For You, University Challenge, Masterchef, Who Do You Think You Are?) and do a spot of genealogy - my favourite pastime besides writing.

Next year, when my youngest son starts his 15 hours a week at nursery, I'll have 5 mornings a week to keep up with my course, read and write. I do worry that it won't be enough time, but he'll also be going to a childminder once a week for a session, so I should get one day where I get a longer stretch of time. I guess I'm worried that the other students will be so much further along in their writing careers than I am, and I don't want to fall behind.

I'm so excited about the MA that I can't even think about the difficulties I may have earning a living once the course finishes. At the moment, I'm just brimming with ideas. I hope to use my memoir as my main project for my course, but I also plan to edit a novel and continue with another first draft that's a bit of a melting pot at the moment.

I'm still uncertain where this blog will take me, but maybe I'll get some ideas and feedback when I start the course and meet other writers. At the moment, it appears to be like a holding place for all my plans. It helps me chart what I need to go and allows me to experiment occasionally with ideas. I know I should probably develop these a bit and think more about my audience, and when I get back to it after the school holidays, I hope to be able to give it a bit more time.

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Mark Twain once said, "Sing like no one's listening, love like you've never been hurt, dance like nobody's watching, and live like its heaven on earth." I've always loved this quote, but I wonder how many of us actually live in the moment and follow our hearts instead of wondering how silly we look? I know I'm guilty of holding back because I fear scrutiny and/or judgement, and I think it's one of the reasons I've gone long periods in my life without writing (and singing and loving and dancing...).

Now, I'm one of the most self-conscious people you could ever meet - and with that in mind, it's a wonder I ever began writing in the first place. It occurred to me the other week that this is one of the reasons many people remain stuck and find it difficult to express themselves in various forms.

When I first started studying psychology, I learned about something called the 'spotlight effect', which is that feeling that everybody is watching you - a bit like if you enter a large room full of people and it all goes silent, or if you drop a tray of plates or glasses in a busy canteen. For me, it manifests itself during activities such as singing or dancing (which I rarely do - at least not in company), or more likely - in the middle of a conversation in the school playground. Before I've got into the swing of things, I'll suddenly catch sight of myself, worry that everybody is watching me and assume I look or sound silly. So I stop.

In some areas of my life, this has proved a useful trait. For example, in my case, my self-consciousness is related to my self-awareness - and because of this, there's no part of my psyche or conscience that I don't feel comfortable exploring, so no stone is left unturned. This was particularly useful when I was doing my counselling training, and in turn has benefitted my writing hugely.

However, self-consciousness has also been the worst enemy of my writing, and I'm sure that many other writers can relate to this.

The act of putting pen to paper is in theory very simple. Most of us do it in some form every day. We also tell stories to our friends, family and work colleagues every day, and we read books. And lots and lots of people have that secret (or not-so-secret) desire to write a book. So, assuming a person has that desire, along with the time and an idea they'd like to explore, why aren't more of us making that start in the first place?

I think it's partly because of that 'spotlight effect', that feeling like we're being watched - or even worse - judged.

For years I didn't write because I thought I had to be some kind of genius, that if my story didn't drip off the pen naturally, then I probably wasn't good enough - and my desire to write wasn't enough to pin my future career hopes on, so I looked at studying a more practical subject at university and tried to forget about writing, even as a hobby (I didn't view writing as a suitable activity for a hobby - it wasn't like painting or baking or playing a sport or learning a language - therefore the very few pieces I wrote I kept secret).

Added to that, I loved writing diaries and stories based on real events - trying to capture happier times, or to understand more difficult ones, so it became doubly important to protect my precious stories by keeping them to myself, even if they stayed in my head - they expressed a part of me that was more 'real' than anything else in my life.

Thesedays, I am much better, and I've learned to not care if anybody's watching or judging my writing (and for the record, they aren't, they really aren't - at least not until you're ready for anybody to critique your work anyway), but it wasn't easy. There was always that image of that critical reader sitting on my shoulder scrutinising my small efforts and dishing out negative comments - it was the collective voice of everybody who'd ever put me down and not believed in me.

My solution was to turn it on its head. My inner critic made me angry, and I channelled that anger into determination to write what I wanted to write - and I'd carry on writing until all the negative thoughts were gone. I was literally fighting the bullies on the page. And because there are always negative thoughts to conquer, it's meant that bar the odd spell, I've carried on writing.

Learning to ignore that voice is a real challenge for both new and experienced writers - but it's particularly acute when you first set out. Even today, I can clearly remember the fear of emptying all my hopes and dreams on the page and discovering I wasn't the writer I hoped I was in my soul, that I was just kidding myself all along - and that's why I never wrote for years.

I can live with never singing or dancing again - but the thought of never being a writer - that was the one thing that I feared finding out. And so I never wrote. It's a viscous cycle.

I'm lucky I broke through the fear. And fear was all it was. It took a lot of courage, and I had to use every ounce of my determination and focus to do it - but the good news is that once you've found a way to deal with your inner critic watching and judging, it's another tool in your kit to use - just be aware of new tactics that your inner critic might employ to derail you, and be ready and armed.

Feel the fear and write anyway.

(As I know it's not that simple - here's a link to another blog post I wrote about starting to write: https://lifeandtimesofamemoirwriter.wordpress.com/2016/06/13/starting-to-write/)

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I've been very quiet on here lately, and my this is partly because I've had to make some decisions to make - about my career and my writing.

When I started my blog I had so many ideas - I thought I'd post at least twice a week about all sorts of things. But, aside from the excuse of being busy with the kids, the real reason for my infrequent posts is that I've had a bad case of blogging stage fright - and that coupled with the uncertainty of where my eventual career was headed has meant that I've really not taken the reins and blogged with conviction.

Part of the reason is that I've never really decided exactly what I want my blog to be about. My original plan was to write a blog about my writing journey, set goals for myself and experiment with ideas, and possibly write about some of the issues I've had to deal with through my memoir writing and the inspirations and issues behind them. But then, I've hesitated a few times when it's looked like I might be doing other things in my life, like training to be a Counsellor, or doing a Psychology conversion course, and wondered whether I ought take the blog in a slightly different direction.

The short version of the last few months is that I was set to start a Psychology MSC in January 2017 (slightly later than I'd planned because the course I'd originally applied to do had its BPS accreditation withdrawn just as I'd begun it, back in October last year). As it got nearer to the course starting, I began to question whether it was actually the right thing to do. I kept thinking back nostalgically to last year and how much I'd enjoyed doing my PG Counselling Certificate, and in the end I made the decision to withdraw from the Psychology to apply to do a part-time PG Counselling Diploma instead. So I looked into volunteering to support my application, and started re-reading Carl Rogers.

Then, around Christmastime, I had a breakthrough with my writing when I began the first draft of a new novel and I didn't give up halfway through. It made me realise that I want really want to do with my life is write full-time - and at the same time, I want to learn everything I can about the craft.

The resulting surge in commitment and confidence meant that in the New Year, after I attended the interview for the Counselling Diploma and didn't feel it had gone very well, I finally felt able to realistically put it to my partner and family that maybe I should do an MA in Creative Writing instead. So I bit the bullet and applied to Lancaster University's distance learning Creative Writing MA, and a few weeks ago I was accepted onto the programme. It was a strange couple of days, because it turned out that I'd also made it onto the Counselling course too, and I was in the tricky (but enviable) position of having to choose between the two. I know I'd have enjoyed the Counselling, and would have put all my resources into it, but ultimately, I also know I've made the right decision choosing my writing.

I'm so looking forward to spending two years working on my memoir, learning lots about myself as a writer, reader and editor, and connecting with other passionate writers too. I now have permission to spend long hours doing the one thing I love most in the world, and I still keep pinching myself to check I'm not dreaming.

As for the blog, it's still a work in progress, I still have blogging stage fright, but hopefully I'll find plenty to blog about in the coming months and years.

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Lovely Review of my book from Barry Charman

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