Monday, 10 December 2018

Dang and Blast It!

So, I've decided to start a podcast in the New Year. I'm excited about it and starting to get organised - not looked at the technical aspects yet but I've recruited a reluctant tech guru to help. All's well then, surely?

No!

I've got to come up with a name, haven't I? And how hard is that!

Every idea I have had seems to have problems. Too negative, doesn't say anything about me, twee, not memorable. You can see the problems, can't you?

It's driving me bananas.

I've started looking at other podcasts about writing or by writers and they all seem to have the word 'writer' or 'writing' in the name so maybe that's something I have to consider. But that's not got me any nearer to finding a name which I like and think says something about the theme and content of the podcast.

Maybe I'm over thinking it. Maybe I just need to pick a name and run with it. Perhaps it's not the deal breaker I think it is. I could always change it later if I don't think it's working.

The name I'm toying with at the moment is Catching The Writer's Imagination. I'm not sure, it seems a bit long but it's the best of a bad lot at the moment. Thank heavens I've got until January to sort it out!

What do you think about the name? Let me know in the comments.

Saturday, 24 November 2018

Valuing What I Do



I've returned from a weekend retreat with a bunch of talented, supportive and funny women with my batteries fully charged and my head full of ideas.
As usual I fear the dwindling of enthusiasm and the fall back into the Pit of Despondency.
So I'm thinking of ways to keep the momentum and keep the enthusiasm going. I have been pondering what value I put on what I do and how this impacts on my state of mind with regard to my writing.

Last weekend was wonderful. Meeting old friends again, laughing and sharing a convivial time in a stunning setting with beautiful food was just the tonic most of us needed. But we have to return to the real world and I confess to not writing a word since I returned home. Why is that?
I have spent a lot of time thinking. I have been thinking about things that were said at the retreat and things I have noticed since I returned.
As usual I shared the writing I did during the weekend, guided by prompts from Gilly. I explored some of my feelings about my parents and how even after eighteen years I still miss them. But I didn't share anything that I had written in depth, nothing that I had invested time and effort into. This made me curious about how I value my writing.

I am a reluctant sharer of my words. That is an odd thing to say for someone who loves telling stories and inventing characters. Why don't I get my writing out there more? I think it's because I don't value it as much as the work of others. Last weekend we heard some beautiful writing and spent some time discussing it, workshopping it and appreciating it. I didn't share any of my work in this way and I think it's because I thought everyone else's writing was better than mine.

This week I have been giving this some serious thought and hence I am writing a post about it to clear m own mind. I love the sound of my own voice, I love reading stories aloud but rarely use my own stories for that. I think if I am to progress as a writer I need to let go of some of my 'babies' and let them fly in the world. After all, doesn't all writing need its reader?

So I am going to try something different. I am going to try podcasting! I've looked into this before and done nothing about it but this time I'm determined to give it a go. I intend to write some short pieces that I will read out on a short podcast and let my words go, to sink or swim in the real world. I also want to look into the possibility of doing some self publishing, online stuff for kindle and other e-readers. All this will happen in the New Year, fingers crossed and you will probably get fed up with me banging on about it then as I start the marketing and publicity.

So you heard it here first. There will be a big leap of faith in the New Year and I'm already thinking of excuses why I shouldn't do it, so wish me luck!

Sunday, 7 October 2018

Inktober Prompt Day 7 - Exhausted

As I'm not artistically gifted with a pencil or brush I have decided to take part in Inktober in my own way, by using the prompts for writing rather than drawing or painting. This is working well so far and I have produced some poems and pieces of Flash Fiction which may turn into something more substantial at a later date. Today, however, I decided to use the prompt for a blog post.

Exhausted.

Now we all know about physical exhaustion. When just putting one foot in front of the other is a mammoth undertaking, when staying awake for the news headlines takes every last ounce of effort, when you start to doze off standing at the bus stop. That exhaustion. But I want to talk about another type, the emotional, mental type that has been creeping over not just me lately as I observe what is going on in the world.

I am exhausted hearing testimony from women about how they have been sexually assaulted, trolled on social media, belittled for holding an opinion.
I am exhausted hearing from women who have been mocked for the colour of their skin, their sexuality, their politics, their religion.
I am exhausted hearing about women who have been fat shamed, slut shamed or just plain shamed for being who they are.
I am exhausted by the amount of shit women have to put up with on a daily basis just so they can get on with their lives.
I am exhausted.

When I was much younger I hoped that by the time I reached 60 equality between the sexes would be a given, the norm, just the way it was. I hoped that men and women would be living happy, fulfilled lives no matter how they chose to live them or who they chose to live them with. But it is not so, dear reader. The world is still filled with those who try to keep women down, to shout them down, to put them down. Men, for it is mostly men, who think that women should stay down, way down, knowing our place. Men whose values and ideas who be at home in the Victorian parlour.

This weekend I attended an event at the Birmingham Literary Festival. Caitlin Moran and Sali Hughes were in conversation and it was wonderful to hear two intelligent, spirited women talk about their experiences and their hopes. Caitlin spoke vociferously about how The Patriarchy was keeping women down, trying to silence their voices, to marginalise them in all spheres of society. It made my old heart ache to think that things don't seem to have changed since the 70s when we were urged to burn our bras and strive for equality in all things. Yes, I acknowledge that some things have changed for the better: women are no longer the property of their spouse, women can open a bank account without the permission of their nearest male next of kin, women can get the highest paid jobs although they will still be outnumbered by men. So it's not all gloom and doom. Yet I am still exhausted hearing about all the crap women have to put up with on a daily basis.

Last year I attended an event again at Birmingham Literary Festival but this time the speaker was Jess Phillips, MP for Birmingham Yardley. Now Jess is no shrinking violet. She calls out the trolls and the haters and gives as good as she gets. Yet hearing about some of the vile things that have been said to her and her fellow women MPs made me very sad. Things so personal, violent and sick that it is hard to imagine them if you are a polite member of society who hardly ever swears. But it happens to them on a daily basis and they have to either leave social media or grow a thick skin very quickly. And I am exhausted one year later to still hear that this is still happening to elected members of parliament, just because they are women. I am sure that male MPs get abuse too but I doubt it is as sexually violent or intimidating as that of female MPs. And in case anyone thinks 'Well, it's just a lot of hot air, words can't hurt them' remember Jo Cox, murdered on the street of her constituency. There is much to be wary of if you are a woman in the public eye with an opinion, a voice or a platform.

I am exhausted when I look at how the most powerful men in the world talk about women. I don't blog about politics as a rule because it's not something I feel comfortable doing. My politics are fluid, I'm not in one camp or the other and I don't always feel fully informed to have a fixed opinion. But I will make the exception here. In America, they have elected a misogynistic man. His views on women are truly offensive and he empowers others who see women as he does. He has recently nominated a man to the Supreme Court who has been accused by three women of assaulting them sexually. This is not the sort of man I would expect to be rewarded for this type of behaviour with a seat on America's highest judicial bench. But when the President is a misogynist, why not? They think alike so they're perfect bedfellows. And just watching the protests, seeing the thousands and thousands of women marching, shouting, begging for him to be excluded from this office is exhausting. I feel real despair at some of the things that I read about, hear about or see on the news. Being a woman in 2018 seems like hard work. Being a strong woman in 2018 seems like an uphill struggle.

So that is why I am exhausted.
I am exhausted by the constant stream of hate and abuse that women are facing every day.
I am exhausted by the struggle that is still being fought in the twenty first century.
I am exhausted by how hard it is to be a woman sometimes.
And I'd like it to stop now please.

Thursday, 13 September 2018

Out of Step with Others




There are times when I find myself out of step. Sometimes it's just that I'm not up to date with the latest trends or slang. Sometimes it's because I haven't been watching the latest 'must see' TV show. Sometimes it's because I have chosen to stay on the outside because I don't want the stress of being on the inside!

Lately I have been struggling with reading. No, I haven't forgotten how to do it! I've been trying to plough through a book that I'm just not into because everyone who has read it is raving about it. What am I missing? I don't know but the darn thing isn't resonating with me and I'm avoiding picking it up.

I can hear my sister's voice shouting at me 'Life's too short for bad books' and I do agree with her. It's not like I've never stopped reading a book before the end in the past, as I remind myself every time I see Captain Corelli's Mandolin on a bookshelf.

So with reluctance I have decided to close the book and donate it. I'm just not getting the vibe that everyone else is and I have so many other books to read.

Bye bye unloved book and hello to all the other books on my To Read pile!