... shouldn’t that be ‘a writer’s eye’? Well yes and no.
Last night I decided it was my turn to do the weekly ironing, especially as honey-bunch had turned his ankle on Friday night as we charged up Chapel Carn Brea, the most westerly point in Britain, chasing a sunset; a story for another day.
Back to the ironing. I set myself up in front of the tele, I have to listen or watch something while ironing or I think I’m wasting time! We decided to catch up on Downton Abbey, we had taped episode two. So with one eye on the period drama, the other on hubby’s work shirts, and both ears tuned to the dialogue, I found myself hanging on every individual voice, choice of word, inflection, pause, cough, breath, it was all cramming my mind as I whizzed over the tea-towels and his T-shirts.
Mind you, (I keep saying that for some reason), ever since I started this intense study of the varied world of writing, my senses have definitely raised their sensitivity. It hasn’t spoilt my enjoyment of reading or writing, on the contrary, it just gets more exciting and challenging with the added hope that one day someone might consider my work worthy of reading – and even publishing.
In between watching the interaction of the characters, so wonderfully portrayed by the choice actors in their authentic and glorious costumes, I cannot help but wonder what Julian Fellowes must be thinking as he watches his creation coming to life on screen. I know of course he is already very successful and acclaimed and must have had that feeling hundreds of times, but surely that first moment must never go away as your words are visualised and you see the fruits of your hard labour. I’m more than happy doing the hard labour but wait my turn and live in hope for the fruits.
In the meantime I shall carry on watching and listening, taking note of how every word contributes to a powerful piece of drama, and I shall continue to dream, remembering Dad’s words, that ‘hard work will always pay off’.
Tonight I will no doubt watch the third episode but I’ve no ironing left to do, maybe I’ll darn his socks instead ... ha ha.
Thanks for calling by,
PP
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Still thinking - while driving.
I wish my commute to work was just 10 seconds up the stairs to my writing room, but alas, like so many thousands of writers out there, I have to go by car. It takes an hour and a half to travel the 50 mile round trip because they are Cornish roads; those who’ve visited will understand.
As I said on Sunday, because I have to fit my writing around full-time work (not to mention domestic things - here is my opportunity to praise my hubby; the best in the land, he does the lion’s share), when I cannot physically sit down at my laptop, or even scribble in the notepad joined to my hip, I need to optimise my time in other ways and do something useful.
Speaking for myself, I must spend as much time thinking, planning and pondering as I do actually putting words on paper. So on my journey into work and on my way home, I use the time to consider what I have prepared the night before and how I’m going to take it forward later.
I enjoy nothing more than being lost in my thoughts. Soothing instrumental classics creating a conducive ambience while I work out a scene or plot, and smiling to myself when I have that giddy feeling as a particular word pops into my head. The word becomes a seed, becomes a sentence.
You must think I’m boring or even selfish, and you could be right, but ultimately my goal is to write a piece that will give someone pleasure, evoke an emotion be it sad or funny. Words join our world together, with words we communicate, whether written down or spoken, and they have to begin somewhere before they can go anywhere and everywhere.
I hope some of mine make you smile and feel.
My motto is: Never put off until tomorrow, what you can write today.
Thanks for visiting.
PP
PS: Just for those concerned about me possibly not concentrating on the road ahead – my eyes are on my driving and my hands on the wheel – only my brain is switching gears!
As I said on Sunday, because I have to fit my writing around full-time work (not to mention domestic things - here is my opportunity to praise my hubby; the best in the land, he does the lion’s share), when I cannot physically sit down at my laptop, or even scribble in the notepad joined to my hip, I need to optimise my time in other ways and do something useful.
Speaking for myself, I must spend as much time thinking, planning and pondering as I do actually putting words on paper. So on my journey into work and on my way home, I use the time to consider what I have prepared the night before and how I’m going to take it forward later.
I enjoy nothing more than being lost in my thoughts. Soothing instrumental classics creating a conducive ambience while I work out a scene or plot, and smiling to myself when I have that giddy feeling as a particular word pops into my head. The word becomes a seed, becomes a sentence.
You must think I’m boring or even selfish, and you could be right, but ultimately my goal is to write a piece that will give someone pleasure, evoke an emotion be it sad or funny. Words join our world together, with words we communicate, whether written down or spoken, and they have to begin somewhere before they can go anywhere and everywhere.
I hope some of mine make you smile and feel.
My motto is: Never put off until tomorrow, what you can write today.
Thanks for visiting.
PP
PS: Just for those concerned about me possibly not concentrating on the road ahead – my eyes are on my driving and my hands on the wheel – only my brain is switching gears!
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Thinking time - walking.
Hello again,
Like many writers, I have to keep going to the day job, so I have to optimise every bit of down-time to prepare and influence what I really enjoy doing – writing. When I get home from work I need to adjust my thoughts and transfer the workings of my brain from crunching numbers all day to a raft of words which need putting together to form something worth reading.
My strategy for this transformation is two-fold: the first is to exchange the smart office clothes for casual and comfortable, the second, and most important, is to take our Tibetan Terrier for his walk up the lane, if we are not going to the beach.
I say ‘up’ because it is a subtle climb, but once at the top the panoramic views are worth every huff and puff! The tidy fields eventually meet the marshes and dunes, and unless there is a sea mist I can see a strip of the Atlantic Ocean; I need this daily fix of space, fresh air and beauty to remind me of why I shall return to our cottage to start work again; I love it.
Max is getting on now, and I’m not far behind him, so we don’t power-walk but move at a respectable pace, stopping frequently as is Max’s wont, to poke his nose around, smelling and searching for who knows what.
This half hour together rejuvenates both of us. During this time my mind gradually forgets the day that has gone before, and starts to switch into creative mode as I think about the current piece I’m working on; invariably I will come back with an idea or two, or a clearer view on what I am writing.
This is in the main due to the inspiration all around. For instance last night when we walked up the hill, I looked into the various fields on either side of the lane. Baby rabbits scooted across one field when they heard Max coming, and in others gorgeous calves grazed with their mothers, horses munched and sea-gulls flew over.
Then, while Max was concentrating on his bodily functions and I was poised with poo-bag, I looked across to the small field beyond the stream, he was watching me, bold as brass, Mr Fox. We stared at each other in disbelief, he kept staring until Max moved and then he was gone; if only I’d had my camera.
On the way back down the hill I absorbed the beauty in the still-colourful cottage gardens, and the change in the trees and hedgerows as Autumn quickly comes. The light is fading earlier and the wonderful, unmistakeable smell of crisp English air fills my lungs; not available in sunny Cyprus. It’s so good to be home and back to the crazy timetable of life.
Thanks for visiting.
PP
Like many writers, I have to keep going to the day job, so I have to optimise every bit of down-time to prepare and influence what I really enjoy doing – writing. When I get home from work I need to adjust my thoughts and transfer the workings of my brain from crunching numbers all day to a raft of words which need putting together to form something worth reading.
My strategy for this transformation is two-fold: the first is to exchange the smart office clothes for casual and comfortable, the second, and most important, is to take our Tibetan Terrier for his walk up the lane, if we are not going to the beach.
I say ‘up’ because it is a subtle climb, but once at the top the panoramic views are worth every huff and puff! The tidy fields eventually meet the marshes and dunes, and unless there is a sea mist I can see a strip of the Atlantic Ocean; I need this daily fix of space, fresh air and beauty to remind me of why I shall return to our cottage to start work again; I love it.
Max is getting on now, and I’m not far behind him, so we don’t power-walk but move at a respectable pace, stopping frequently as is Max’s wont, to poke his nose around, smelling and searching for who knows what.
This half hour together rejuvenates both of us. During this time my mind gradually forgets the day that has gone before, and starts to switch into creative mode as I think about the current piece I’m working on; invariably I will come back with an idea or two, or a clearer view on what I am writing.
This is in the main due to the inspiration all around. For instance last night when we walked up the hill, I looked into the various fields on either side of the lane. Baby rabbits scooted across one field when they heard Max coming, and in others gorgeous calves grazed with their mothers, horses munched and sea-gulls flew over.
Then, while Max was concentrating on his bodily functions and I was poised with poo-bag, I looked across to the small field beyond the stream, he was watching me, bold as brass, Mr Fox. We stared at each other in disbelief, he kept staring until Max moved and then he was gone; if only I’d had my camera.
On the way back down the hill I absorbed the beauty in the still-colourful cottage gardens, and the change in the trees and hedgerows as Autumn quickly comes. The light is fading earlier and the wonderful, unmistakeable smell of crisp English air fills my lungs; not available in sunny Cyprus. It’s so good to be home and back to the crazy timetable of life.
Thanks for visiting.
PP
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Final postcard from Cyprus - posted in England!
I cannot believe it is four days since I blogged, nor can I believe I am now home and back at the day job. There is a reason, I've been unwell, too much sun fried the creative bits of my brain. It was painful and serves me right for being smug about swimming before breakfast and all that.I didn't want to leave Cyprus in limbo as the end of my previous blog was a little clliffhanger, which is why I hope you have come back to read more about 'Omar' and 'Tom'. I don't know their real names, but it amused me to think of the two brothers who owned the hotel where we were staying, as stand-ins on my holiday for the two actors and their famous characters.
We planned a sail around the bay and on to Famagusta (now a 'ghost town', apparently still as it was when the people fled in 1974). We would stop off for a swim and lunch on board, how romantic I thought, especially as the boat was called, 'Shirley Valentine', it's true! Unfortunately husband was poorly so we could not risk him ruining other people's day out by throwing up.
This is the part you'll love, I was told by a reliable source that the boat is owned by an English girl and her Greek Cypriot husband; you've got it, she had done a SV, stayed, and is now running the leisure cruise with Tom C.., I mean her husband; you couldn't make it up.
The references to Dr Zchivago & Shirley Valentine, made me wonder how the inspiration behind these stories came about for the two authors, Boris Pasternak & Willy Russell, as they brought the two ideas to life. But that's just it, the stories are on observations of real life; simple as that. Now all I have to do is take a leaf out of their books, so to speak, and write my own.
You'll be pleased to know, I hope, that I did not have to pay excess baggage on the way home. Husband 'reorganised' the packin, I had to agree to throw away magazines, oils and potions; it worked. But as we approached the check-in desk, with not a word of a lie, the whole computer/baggage system at Larnaca Airport crashed. I didn't touch a thing; it took the IT guys 45 minutes to find the fault and restore order. What an exit from Cyprus.
I hope you like the image of me that husband captured for you. He was under strict orders for there to be no face, cellulite, profile or cleavage.
'Speak' soon, PP.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Swimming with Swallows & Sparrows; another postcard from Cyprus
Hi again,
just had lunch by the pool but it is so hot I thought I would have chat with you.
Actually I'm feeling a little smug because the last two mornings I've swum ten lengths of the pool before breakfast, which I've never done before; it definitely wakes you up, despite the lengths only being short ones, and it's far enough for me!
I've been fascinated to watch thirsty swallows swoop down over the pool, take a sip and swoop off again, all in one smooth action. The sparrows are more friendly and cheeky, they constantly roam around the tables for crumbs, drink from the side of the pool and take shelter from the sun inside the terracota tiles on the roof.
My novel continues to take shape as I am able to focus on that only, apart from the dilemmas of what to wear, eat and drink.
The sign by the hotel reception says 'Library - downstairs', I've been to investigate. Five short shelves contain exactly 100 books; I counted them. There is something for most tastes from what I can see, a wide range of authors from Bernard Cornwall to Barbara Taylor Bradford, Judith Krantz to George Elliot to James Patterson. Khaled Hosseini's 'A Thousand Splendid Suns', through which I remember crying often and his famous 'Kite Runner', are also there. Alan Titchmarsh stands beside Andy McNab and Elizabeth Mc Gregor. The only biography appears to be of Billy Connolly, 'Billy' by his wife Pamela Stephenson - did I hear right that she's going to compete in 'Strictly Come Dancing'? - no comment.
So which one did I choose? 'The Perfect Lie' by Emily Barr because she was one of the authors I listened to when she came to speak at last months' Literary Festival in Penzance. She lives in Cornwall, as I do, I've read the first few pages and it begins in the area I know so well and love, I am now feeling a little homesick, though I think I shall survive until Sunday.
Well I must dash as need to cool down. Another swim with the swallows and sparrows will be perfect. PP.
PS: Must tell you tomorrow about Omar (as in Sharif/Dr Zchivago) and Tom (as in Conti, think Shirley Valentine); I'm so blessed to be greeted in the morning by one , and wished a good night by the other.
just had lunch by the pool but it is so hot I thought I would have chat with you.
Actually I'm feeling a little smug because the last two mornings I've swum ten lengths of the pool before breakfast, which I've never done before; it definitely wakes you up, despite the lengths only being short ones, and it's far enough for me!
I've been fascinated to watch thirsty swallows swoop down over the pool, take a sip and swoop off again, all in one smooth action. The sparrows are more friendly and cheeky, they constantly roam around the tables for crumbs, drink from the side of the pool and take shelter from the sun inside the terracota tiles on the roof.
My novel continues to take shape as I am able to focus on that only, apart from the dilemmas of what to wear, eat and drink.
The sign by the hotel reception says 'Library - downstairs', I've been to investigate. Five short shelves contain exactly 100 books; I counted them. There is something for most tastes from what I can see, a wide range of authors from Bernard Cornwall to Barbara Taylor Bradford, Judith Krantz to George Elliot to James Patterson. Khaled Hosseini's 'A Thousand Splendid Suns', through which I remember crying often and his famous 'Kite Runner', are also there. Alan Titchmarsh stands beside Andy McNab and Elizabeth Mc Gregor. The only biography appears to be of Billy Connolly, 'Billy' by his wife Pamela Stephenson - did I hear right that she's going to compete in 'Strictly Come Dancing'? - no comment.
So which one did I choose? 'The Perfect Lie' by Emily Barr because she was one of the authors I listened to when she came to speak at last months' Literary Festival in Penzance. She lives in Cornwall, as I do, I've read the first few pages and it begins in the area I know so well and love, I am now feeling a little homesick, though I think I shall survive until Sunday.
Well I must dash as need to cool down. Another swim with the swallows and sparrows will be perfect. PP.
PS: Must tell you tomorrow about Omar (as in Sharif/Dr Zchivago) and Tom (as in Conti, think Shirley Valentine); I'm so blessed to be greeted in the morning by one , and wished a good night by the other.
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
Postcard from Cyprus
Hi,
We are here - but I'm missing you already - and my laptop - so had to spend a couple of euros writing to you.
Our first experience and impression of Cyprus is very good and very hot! We landed just before midnight on Sunday, it was 26 degrees, during the days so far it has been blue skies all the way and high thirties; but we'll cope.
Do you remember me saying that I was going to bring a stack of writing magazines to catch up with, well I did and they cost us excess baggage! A large red label was fastened to my case saying, HEAVY; husband was not amused. He's over it now, and I'm massaging sun cream on his back and going to the bar at regular intervals by way of grovelling.
What I wanted to tell you was, that in between the serious stash of mags and books, I also brought a copy of the June 2010 issue of Woman & Home as passed onto me by my sister. I'm not familiar with it but spent all afternoon yesterday,by the pool of course, reading it; would you believe I found 9 articles/features referring to writers: their lives, views and work.
Among them was a piece by Sarah Duncan (I blogged about her last month after she'd been at the Penzance Literary Festival), she was giving her account of the 'empty nest' feeling as her daughter begins university; very funny.
There was an article on an experience of going to a literary festival (not me, if only), another one entitled, 'Books that change my mood' by Alexandra Shulman, Editor of British Vogue and judge for the Orange Prize for Fiction. There's also a regular page dedicated to a selection of the latest book releases.
I hope I don't sound like a promotion for W&H but it has proved to me how much information and inspiration can be gained from many areas and publications not specific to writing. I think it may also have something to do with the fact that my observational skills and senses have been heightened as I continue to study on this great course, and that I have to improve my ideas and imagination if I am to be successful.
Must dash, he wants his back creaming again and another beer!
PP
PS: When it gets too hot tomorrow I shall write again and let you know ...
We are here - but I'm missing you already - and my laptop - so had to spend a couple of euros writing to you.
Our first experience and impression of Cyprus is very good and very hot! We landed just before midnight on Sunday, it was 26 degrees, during the days so far it has been blue skies all the way and high thirties; but we'll cope.
Do you remember me saying that I was going to bring a stack of writing magazines to catch up with, well I did and they cost us excess baggage! A large red label was fastened to my case saying, HEAVY; husband was not amused. He's over it now, and I'm massaging sun cream on his back and going to the bar at regular intervals by way of grovelling.
What I wanted to tell you was, that in between the serious stash of mags and books, I also brought a copy of the June 2010 issue of Woman & Home as passed onto me by my sister. I'm not familiar with it but spent all afternoon yesterday,by the pool of course, reading it; would you believe I found 9 articles/features referring to writers: their lives, views and work.
Among them was a piece by Sarah Duncan (I blogged about her last month after she'd been at the Penzance Literary Festival), she was giving her account of the 'empty nest' feeling as her daughter begins university; very funny.
There was an article on an experience of going to a literary festival (not me, if only), another one entitled, 'Books that change my mood' by Alexandra Shulman, Editor of British Vogue and judge for the Orange Prize for Fiction. There's also a regular page dedicated to a selection of the latest book releases.
I hope I don't sound like a promotion for W&H but it has proved to me how much information and inspiration can be gained from many areas and publications not specific to writing. I think it may also have something to do with the fact that my observational skills and senses have been heightened as I continue to study on this great course, and that I have to improve my ideas and imagination if I am to be successful.
Must dash, he wants his back creaming again and another beer!
PP
PS: When it gets too hot tomorrow I shall write again and let you know ...
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Final surprise.
Hi again, I forgot to say last night that I have a surprise of my own for husband; I'm not taking my laptop!
That has been a big decision to make but I think I need a rest from computer screens. This doesn't mean that I shall not be writing, of course not. I am taking several note books and hope to fill them all. They may well come back greasy with sun cream and the pages evern scorched with sunshine (sorry to rub it in, if you pardon the terrible pun), but they will be my creation and ready to bring to life as I rewrite and edit.
By the way if you're interested in the books I'm taking to read, they are:
The Cloths of Heaven by Sue Eckstein, and Troubling Love by Elena Ferrante.
Very different books. I have already dipped into them and they are both addictive. I heard about the the first from Radio 4 as it was being dramatised or read, I can't remember which now.
The latter was recommended to me for the structure and point-of-view. The author, Elena Ferrante is Italian, (as you've probably guessed), and she is an important and acclaimed contemporary author in Italy, however, she has shunned public attention and has chosen to keep her identity a mystery. Intriguing.
Must dash, got a plane to catch.
'Speak' soon,
PP
That has been a big decision to make but I think I need a rest from computer screens. This doesn't mean that I shall not be writing, of course not. I am taking several note books and hope to fill them all. They may well come back greasy with sun cream and the pages evern scorched with sunshine (sorry to rub it in, if you pardon the terrible pun), but they will be my creation and ready to bring to life as I rewrite and edit.
By the way if you're interested in the books I'm taking to read, they are:
The Cloths of Heaven by Sue Eckstein, and Troubling Love by Elena Ferrante.
Very different books. I have already dipped into them and they are both addictive. I heard about the the first from Radio 4 as it was being dramatised or read, I can't remember which now.
The latter was recommended to me for the structure and point-of-view. The author, Elena Ferrante is Italian, (as you've probably guessed), and she is an important and acclaimed contemporary author in Italy, however, she has shunned public attention and has chosen to keep her identity a mystery. Intriguing.
Must dash, got a plane to catch.
'Speak' soon,
PP
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)