More than Writers

Anyone else recall the thrill of being given a new exercise book at school? All those neatly-lined pages - hopefully with margins already accurately marked - wrapped in a smooth, colourful cover. To me, they spoke of a fresh start, unencumbered by past mistakes aggressively circled in red pen. A new book bristled with possibilities, and I always felt slightly cheated at the beginning of the academic year if our teacher insisted we complete last year’s book before starting a different one. And for the first couple of days, I’d do my best to keep my work fault-free, hoping that the red pen marks would come in the form of ticks rather than crosses. Sooner or later, though, my attempts at beautiful handwriting reverted to my usual spider-scrawl. Careless errors resulted in ugly crossings-out and pages plastered with Tippex, while covers became dog-eared through being pulled in and out of my bag. My perfectionist streak was – as usual – disappointed. As I...

I have a confession to make: I’ve not done much writing recently…at least, not the sort of writing I’d like to be doing. I’ve written a few school reports (still plenty left to do, though), and I’ve done some musical arrangements for work. My two main WIPs, however, are feeling sadly neglected. Progress is slower than I'd like... It’s not that I’m short of projects. I’ve had helpful advice regarding both the bigger items I’m working on, and I’ve plenty of other ideas for articles I’d like to write. But those chunky pieces need a fair amount of rewriting (gulp!), which means I not only need time to write, but also space in my head to think through the changes I’m going to make. I’m hopeful that once I get to the end of term I’ll be able to get back into a better (and more productive) writing routine, but part of me doesn’t want to wait that long. Before you start passing out the virtual tissues - or a virtual kick up the derri è re if you feel it’s more appropriate ...

If I’d been a fly on the wall at the Last Supper, I’d have got pretty irritated with the disciples. There was Jesus, reminding them about how he was going to suffer – having been betrayed by one of their number – and explaining that in future they should share bread and wine as a remembrance of him. And what were the disciples doing at this pivotal moment in human history? Arguing about who among them was the greatest. It’s easy to tut-tut and shake our heads at their immature behaviour; but I suspect that most of us are guilty of playing the comparison game from time to time. The media bombards us with unrealistic images of how we should look, while advertisements are carefully crafted to make us dissatisfied with our lot. Before we realise it, we’re measuring ourselves against others, thinking that life would be perfect if only we had a size eight figure, a designer wardrobe and a fortnight’s holiday in the Bahamas every summer. As Christians, we understand – at least in t...

Beautiful! There are some days when I feel I’m not cut out to be a writer. Before you swamp me with a deluge of sympathy or – worse still – start typing ‘ Hear, hear! ’ into the comments box, let me explain. It’s not that I can’t cope with the need to persevere, to refine and to edit. I understand that my work may need umpteen rewrites before I dare show it to anyone (and that’s just my shopping list). I’ve a well-developed penchant for beautiful stationery and I get irrationally excited at the sight of a large dictionary. And my friends must think I’m turning into a social recluse, as I often lose track of real-life conversations because I’m having a private chat with one of my characters in my head.              Most of the things I struggle with in regard to my writing can be overcome with a little ingenuity, a willingness to learn and a healthy dose of pig-headedness. Reading articles, going on courses and interac...

I wanted to write something profound about how often I'm intimidated by a blank page...but if I'm honest, sometimes that's just an excuse! So, here's a poem about procrastination: a subject in which I am something of an expert. (Apologies to those of you who've heard this before.) If you happened to be at Scargill last September for the writers' weekend, feel free to sing along. Altogether now: I’m full of good intentions As I settle to my task. One thousand words by dinner-time – Is that too much to ask? A blank page is quite scary When you’re starting something new; The first line’s always hardest so I’ll pause and think it through. Now, checking up on Facebook Is legitimate - it’s true! I’m networking , not putting off The work I’d planned to do. I’d better check the emails As you never know what’s there. If I don’t answer straight away It seems like I don’t care. I’ll have a cup of coffee – That’ll get me on the go: An...

I'm not sure this is the right way... I've been studying the weather forecast more closely than usual this past week. By the time you read this, I'll just have got back - snow permitting - from our annual ACW committee retreat. This time away together gives us a valuable opportunity to pray and plan together, as well as providing space to relax and get to know one other better. We share what progress we're making (or not!) with our own writing projects, and hopefully come away with advice and encouragement to “keep at it”. Writing can be a lonely business, and I've found it makes a real difference when I can engage with other writers; whether that's online or face-to-face. It’s a privilege to pick the brains of those who are much more experienced and knowledgeable than I, and I’m sure my work has improved as a result. It can be tempting, however, to sit back and hoover up other people’s expertise without considering what we ourselves have to offer. S...

Each year, I promise myself it'll be different. The Christmas in my head is organised weeks in advance: cards posted, presents wrapped, and sprouts prepared in good time. I have an annual ambition that in the few days before The Big Day I'll be free to relax and maybe enjoy a coffee with friends, as well as having plenty of time (and energy) to meditate on the wonder of the incarnation. And for the first three weeks of December I convince myself that I'm on top of things and that once I get to the end of term I'll be able to chill, in a house that'll somehow be calmer than a turkey farm on Boxing Day. So why is it that every Christmas Eve I feel overwhelmed by the amount of stuff still left to do? I have managed to write all the cards (although I still have three sitting by the front door waiting to be hand-delivered), and I've wrapped most of the presents. We did the big supermarket shop on the 23rd, an experience about as far removed from the concept of ...

At the beginning of November I was full of good intentions. In my last blog post I wrote about the benefits – and challenges – of NaNoWriMo. While I never expected to reach 50,000 words in a month, I had high hopes of equalling my 2014 score of 20,000. I’m full of admiration for my NaNo buddies who are on course to hit 50,000 words by the end of the month, but it’s at this point that I need to make good choices about how I view my own likely total of around 17,000. In any other month, I’d be dancing for joy at having achieved so much … so why, when it’s November, am I tempted to berate myself for having done so little? A couple of days ago, Helen Murray wrote about how often we can be oblivious to the things that pose the greatest threat. I think one of the ways the Enemy likes to trip us up is by telling us our achievements are too small to count in God’s eyes.             Nobody’s going to read what you write , he whis...

            I’ve always had a soft spot for Moses. He spends the first 40 years of his life in pampered luxury, followed by another 40 tending sheep in the desert. Then, one amazing day, he encounters God in a burning bush.              “Take off your shoes,” says God. “This is a holy place.” He goes on to spell out to Moses the plans that he has for the Israelites, and how Moses will be the one to lead them out of slavery and into the Promised Land.             “Fantastic!” says Moses. “I feel honoured that you’ve asked me to do this, and I have absolute faith that you’ll be with me every step of the way. I’ll go and speak to Pharaoh immediately.”             Except we know that’s not quite what happened. Moses concocted a vast array of e...

It's that time of year again. (Those of you who are teachers might want to look away now.) I work as a peripatetic violin teacher, and I have 110 reports to write between now and the beginning of July. I'm worried I might die of boredom in the process: there are only so many ways you can say Chantelle has a good bow-hold ( and believe me, I've used them all). I'm trying to be pragmatic. I've learned a few short-cuts over the years, although I must be a slow learner as it took me a while to realise that if I signed my name at the bottom electronically before making multiple copies I wouldn't have to write my name out over 100 times each year. And while there are some parts of the report that have to be individually written, there are other sections (such as course content) which are repeated over dozens of forms. At this time of year, I'm the copy-and-paste queen. Still, I always feel in late May / early June that I have an unassailable mountain to cl...

I’m starting to feel old. Our eldest got married last year. Married! It feels like only five minutes since we brought him home from the hospital, wondering if we were up to job of caring for this tiny scrap of humanity with the lung capacity of a budding opera star. I’m surprised our postman didn’t go off sick with a bad back. For the next couple of weeks we were inundated with cards and presents: cute little outfits (mostly in varying shades of blue), teddy bears twice the size of our son, rattles designed more with the fist of a sturdy two-year-old in mind. Along with the piles of welcome goodies came reams of advice, some of it not so welcome. Make sure you put him down on his back / front. Establish a four-hourly feeding routine / let him feed on demand. Put him on the potty from day one (really?) or let him do things at his own pace. There’s lots of advice on offer when it comes to my writing, too. One of the things I’ve appreciated about being part of the Asso...

We know how to have a good time in our house. Lured by the temptation of getting a “bargain” in the post-Christmas sales, we decided to invest in a new bed. The woman who served us was a cheerless soul who obviously thought it was unreasonable for customers to come and invade her privacy on a damp and dreary Saturday afternoon. Undeterred, we did that thing where you go round the shop and try them all in turn, as if lying on a mattress in a brightly-lit showroom for two minutes can really tell you whether it’s going to still be comfortable after you’ve been sleeping on it for eight hours. The problem with having a new bed is that you have to get rid of the old one. “Can I have it?” asked our youngest. No problem – except that we’d now have to move the bunk beds out of her room. These ended up in our lodger’s room, while her former bed is now in bits waiting to go to the charity shop. It felt like we lost a week of our lives dismantling and reconstructing beds (followed by d...