Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Friday, 6 November 2009
Saturday, 10 October 2009
Well, it's happened. I got my first rejection letter.
Okay, so back to my topic at hand. Maybe I ought to say it wasn't even a letter, it was an email. What I do really like though (and I'm hoping/wishing/praying I don't sound like one of those 'yeah, but they didn't want it, but they said this, this and this!) was that it was a very personal email and gave loads of sound advice. She said that while it was very readable, and another person at the agency thought so too, it just wasn't 'big' enough for them. (We are talking about like the no. 1 agency in the country, so you know, can somehow bring myself to understand!) There were a few other points where I could amend and if I wished, I was to resubmit to her in the future and to address it personally to her. Yeah, was fairly chuffed about that! Because for all the reasons why it wasn't picked up, I love the fact that I didn't just get a bog-standard rejection letter, which lets face it, is all we normally get.
So what's the plan for me now? Editing and amendments and....resubmission!
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Show of hands please, for those of you who have seen He's Just Not That Into You. For all you guys, you are such liars! Lol I'm willing to bet a fair amount of money lots and lots of you have seen it. Anyway, that's not my point. The reason I'm referring to the movie is for a little thing Mr Justin Long said. His character was talking to this girl and was saying how we all have a little part of ourselves that wait just that bit longer to pay a bill, too meet a deadline, just for the thrill of the risk. We like it. We love it. It's scary. It's fun. IT'S SHIT!
Okay so yeah, scary and fun, whatever, but what happens when reality sets in, and you realise, actually, hang on a minute, you're fucked! This is exactly what I'm feeling right now. FUCKED. And not in a good way, trust me.
I did a really stupid thing. Really really stupid. Or maybe not all that stupid. Rambling again...apologies. So my stupid thing? I approached an agent without perfecting my manuscript. (Thump head off desk in sheer annoyance at self). So it's not that bad, honest! In my opinion, it's only the very. very, very, very last proofread away from being perfect. But I'm feeling a bit of a dick now, and wishing I hadn't been such an eager twat!
My first three chapters were gleaming so much a partially sighted person could see themselves as easy as a...em...fully sighted person. (WTF?) I just didn't bother with the rest of it. I just really struggle to get motivated by edits! I hate them! More than I hate bananas or that twat off Channel 4 on the weekends that annoys me so much his face actually offends me.
So now I guess my panic is...what if the agent wants more of said manuscript? Well, I dunno. I'm trying not to be negative and think that they probably won't want a full copy, but hey, we all know the chances...I guess the bigger question is WHY THE FRIGGEN HECK AM I WRITING TO MY BLOG INSTEAD OF EDITING?!?!?!?!!? Can't help it. Even in my state of bewildered panic I'm still managing to procrastinate.
But in the early hours of this morning, before it is a sane enough time to get up but too late to really attempt getting back in REM mode, it suddenly flashed back into my mind. I lay there thinking about it for probably longer than was really necessary. And the more I thought about it, I couldn't really decide what I would prefer; being the Dumped or the Dumpee. Because really, at the end of the day, both are just varying degrees of awful anyway.
Now, I've hardly ever been Dumped, I'm usually the Dumpee. The few times I have been Dumped, I haven't really given two shits to be honest. I've just gone out with my girlies and celebrated the awesomeness that is single life. Preferably with a cute guy to maul at the end of the night.
I can imagine for those in serious relationships, being the Dumped would be truly awful. And what is worse? Having the object of your affection own up to some adulterous crime or have them tell you that they just don't love you anymore. Because both suck and must hurt like fuck. I also imagine it must be REALLY hard to move on. It would be hard to get closure, especially if you don't see the Dumping coming. But is being the Dumpee any easier? I don't think so. I mean sure, sometimes it's real easy, especially if what you are going out with is just a glorified fuck-buddy who doesn't realise they are a fuck-buddy, and the sleepovers are just getting too much. But when you are in long term, serious relationship, it is really hard to get the courage to tell that other person you don't want to be with them anymore. The first time I broke up with someone it was awful. I met him when I was seventeen, my first serious boyfriend. I moved in with him really quickly and had a massive falling out with my family, most of them I didn't even speak to until things were all over with him. Once he had me right where he wanted me (ie shut off from everyone incl. friends and family) and just when I was head over heels madly in love with the boy, he started to show his true colours. The drink he enjoyed after work, during the football, on a Sunday morning, it became clear he had a drinking problem. After one of his bouts of drinking (Super Tenants - gad) he normally turned nasty. He would rape me, shout abuse at me, accuse me of cheating on him and anything else he could think that would hurt me. I got heavily into drugs for a while, believing his assurances that was 'no big deal' and it took me a really long time to bounce back from it all.
I can hear you all now; so WHY was it a hardship to break up with him? Easy. I thought I was stuck, I thought I didn't have a choice. But the worst bit of all? Because I loved him. When he didn't drink, he was my best friend and I saw the man I fell in love with. But somewhere down the line, the fog cleared and I could see my way again. It did break his heart when I left him and I'm just glad I did it when I did. After I broke up with him, he started fooling around with a fifteen year old (he was twenty-two) and proceeded to get four different girls pregnant. I see him from time to time. He looks like shit.
The second boy after that, was just a boy to me. He was a few years younger than me, but still acted like a kid. It was nearly two years after I broke up with my first boyfriend before I felt secure and happy enough in myself to allow myself to be with someone again. He was way more into the relationship than I was and he pretty much suffocated me. I invited him to stay over one night. He didn't leave for eight months. THAT break-up took all night.
So let me ask you the question. What is better; to be the Dumped or the Dumpee. Guess it depends on who you are asking. What's my answer? I haven't figured that one out yet.
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Sunday, 14 June 2009
Okay, so in need of a little ramble at the moment.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Okay, so yet again am I doing anything in my power to put off my never ending editing. Doesn't help that stupid laptop is now playing funny beggars, and freezing every fricken second!!!!
Friday, 29 May 2009
Feel like I am stuck in hell. Actually, stuck in something much worse than hell. Stuck in EDITLAND!!!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Okay, you know what is really annoying about getting myself out there and known in the writing community and venturing down unknown paths? Everyone is freakin American! Not a problem - love the American's - it's the time zones I hate!
Okay, so I am finally getting back into this thing. Husband relinquished control to me ha ha, so have lots of little bits and pieces of me all over the web. Gross, that sounded rank there. Okay, anyway, getting down to it now. It has been a very long time since my last post (about 7 months shock horror). The last I wrote was about my gruesome birth, which upon reflection, no one really wants to know about! My son is now 7.5 months old and getting bigger every second. My most exciting news, is I have finally fought my fear of letting anyone read me writing, and have started posting on Fanstory.com I am loving this new development, and loving the feedback even more. I really had no idea such a community existed for would-be writers. It is a beautiful thing, to read the works of others and see the success stories. I don't write with the hopes of success. When I posted my first chapter on FS, I said to myself, I write for myself, and for my tastes. If one other person likes my work, then that will be me happy. Well, colour me surprised, now a fair few people have added my work to their bookshelves so they don't miss a thing. Well, my bath is now run so best be off before I flood the house. Ciao for now
Well folks, it has been a while since I've been at my site and a lot has happened in the quiet period. Fax and I moved too the house we wanted, and I could not love it any more. It really is awesome and has a fab feel about it. It is out in the sticks a little and everyone seems to worry that I am going to feel isolated with Fax being at work, but I grew up in a place like this, so not bothering me in the slightest. So I was pretty much dubbed as clinically insane for moving when I only had two weeks of my pregnancy left! It was easy going though, we had two fab helpers in the shape of future father and brother in law, and all I had to do was sit back and tell them what went where! Even my psychotic pussy cat seems more at home here. Probably because he has much more room to exercise his crazyness. We bought him one of those scratch post tower house play area things and he loves it, he sits in the little house at the top (only just fits mind you) and pokes his head and front paws out so he can keep an eye on whats going on. Slightly resembles those creepy cuckoo clocks that pop out every hour, but is happy enough in his own little crazy planet. Now for the really big stuff. At 1.14pm on 30th September 2008, my bump decided to be less bump like and more baby like. It was an excruiciatingly long labour, contractions started on the Sunday, and baby was born on the Tuesday! The midwifes I had were excellent and was very lucky to have such nice ones. I plan to send something too them as a way of thanks for their hard work (and probably very damaged ears!) but things have a tendancy to stay in my mind for about 40 seconds then are lost into the black void which is growing bigger every day. Weighing in 7.2 pounds, my beautiful baby boy was everything I imagined and more. I couldn't believe it when he was finally here, my brain still being in that partial denial stage where I wasn't fully convinced a baby was the end result in all this! Strange how the brain works, I'm sure they trick you into not believing things, especially how I felt during my pregnancy as I have been told by other mum's their train of thoughts were relatively the same. But I think your brain does this, because if you could fully comprehend what it is too become a parent and bring a living thing into this scary place we call the world, we would crack up. I was still coming off the drugs when he was born, so can't remember a whole lot about the actual birth, although I can remember the midwife calling me an enigma because it only took one push for him to come into the world and meet us, and the midwife was convinced it would still be at least another forty five minutes before he would even be born. It was as though my son thought "alright, enough of this, here I come!" and boy, was I ever grateful! Even though I can remember thinking that it was agony, and was positive that dying wouldn't even be this painful (depending of course of how I die!), it is comepletely true when they tell you that it isn't a pain you can remember. By the next day, it was all a complete blur, and again I am sure this is your brain taking over, because if we women could remember exactly how painful it is, I'm sure there would be a population problem on the planet Earth. So at long last, nine months and three days later, I got too meet the little person I had been sharing my body with. He was amazing in every single way. During the long process of labour, I became certain that he would be a boy. Fax and I decided not too find out the sex of our baby, wanting it to be an old fashioned surprise. So as he was placed on my tummy and cleaned up slightly, I managed to catch a glimpse of what sex he was. I didn't think I had a preference, but was so happy when I learned he was a boy. Or maybe I was just so happy to see him. Fax cut the cord but I didn't look, was scared what it would look like, and didn't want to be sick! Once I was all patched up, had been fed the most awesome portion of tea and toast I have ever had in my entire life (seriously, tasted better than a slap up meal at the most expensive restaurant), it was time for a little mummy and baby cuddle. I couldn't believe the rush of emotions I felt when I was holding him in my arms. I felt like I knew a million of his secrets, and no one knew him like I did. It was as though the nine months (and three days) we spent together in the womb, we had been bonding the entire time, getting to know each other slowly and reaching an understanding on how the other worked. He was breastfeeding within forty minutes of being born, which I am assured is very good, and seemed a perfect way for us to establish our mother and son relationship. It was around this time that my own mother came in. She knew what a terrible time I had been having with trying to get him out, and him not wanting to budge an inch, so she was coming to see me, not realising that by the time she actually got too the hospital, her grandson had been born. The first day, or rather, afternoon and evening passed in a sureal kind of blur. My visitors came and went and then it was time for Fax to go home for the night, and leave me in charge of our child. I have never felt fear like this before in my life, and honestly do not know how I did not make myself physically sick with worry. Even though I knew my midwife who had looked after me the night before was working on my ward and was there if I needed her, it still didn't get rid of any fear. I hated that I was on a ward, sharing it with two other mothers and their newborn children. So, needless to say, I had a fairly restless night. What with my worry for my baby, the baby in the next bed crying all night long, and the woman across from me snoring like a freight train, I'm shocked I managed what sleep I did. Finally it was time to go home. My little family had one more member, and it was time to get home and live our lives. And after a very quick trip Tescos, we were on our way. It was a very strange feeling sitting in our living room and settling him down to sleep, but it also felt right. Fax and I both felt fairly useless at first. We had grown this little person, and now we had too look after it. I had never been around babies before and was slighly nervous that the first one I would be set loose on would be my own. After the first few days, and few visits from my community midwife, I felt a little more established in my role as Mum. My midwife is fab, and assured me I was doing very well and beamed with joy as she told me I was a natural, and Fax said how proud of my he was. I said once before I would like a few more children, but at this moment, I can't imagine sharing myself with anyone but him. I want him too have whatever he wants whenever he wants it, and to be by my side forever and ever. And yes, I am fully aware that this could result in a demon child later on in life, but right now, I don't care. I am so in love with my child, I had no idea the bond would be this strong. I feel like I could cry sometimes, but not because I am depressed and unhappy, for the exact opposite reasons. I am bursting with pride for my little man, and can't believe that I managed to make something so perfect. Life is settling down here for the moment as we are nine days in to this parenting lark, and getting the hang of things now. Welll, my son beckons and so I must go. More mummy thoughts to follow.
Okay, so first of all, what is the correct spelling of that word? The version I just used doesn't quite look right, but 'sleepyness' doesn't feel right either. Hmm...Okay, so if any intelligent people happen to stumble upon my little site, please feel free to correct me. Seriously, i could use the help.... Anyway, I did not sign on this morning to ponder the spelling of a word, but it does actually prove my point. I can't quite remember when the sleeplessness set in during this pregnancy, but I can assure you that it is now a very prominent role in my life. It's that time of the night when there is bugger all on TV and then your mind starts to get slightly dazed and confused...
The worst thing about missing someone, is the feeling of abandonment and isolation. I have never been a needy or dependant girl, so colour me suprised when I started pinning for a certain someone...... I've lived alone for years and been incredibly independant from probably too early an age, so it did come as a suprise when I found myself missing the dude. I have never been the type to let my guard down enough to be that dependant on someone, and was shocked to find myself a lil bit scared when he went away. Now, I have gotten used to being left somewhat frequently, but have never resented him for it. I know some people who would blame them for leaving, but that just isn't me. I understand it has to be done and it is in our best interests that he does it. Of course, he enjoys his work so that doesn't hurt matters. A certain sense of dread washes over me as I watch him pack his bag, or make up his lunch box for the day of travelling ahead, parts of me wanting to scream out for him not too leave, to stay here with me, but I am a good girl and remain quiet as I would not want him to feel guilty. I have often considered flushing the car keys down the toilet or hiding his clothes so that he doesn't have an option, but I am a terrible liar and would be found guilty almost immediately. It is much better these days when he ups and leaves lil ol me, as I know he is at least in this country! I felt terrible when he would go abroad, longing for him to call me, growing agitated if we couldn't spend long enough on the phone, then spend a good chunk of the evening crying (a trait very unfamiliar to me!) The hormones have a huge part to play in my melodrama and make me feel even worse. I think that is why I feel so out of control most of the time. I have all these feelings tearing me in a million different directions, and a part of my brain would tell me how I would normally react, so it was fairly frightening to be reacting in a completely different manner. Worrying is also another factor when he leaves me, and I have no idea why. I think possibly because I know he is just that little bit further away from me than he normally is, and I cannot see what he is doing (on the other hand, thank God for that, as he has a terrible habit of scratching his bottom just that little bit too deeply)and therefore convinced that some freak accident is going to take him away from me. I was warned about the doom and gloom I would feel whilst pregnant, others telling me I would become a tearful and others telling me I would become convinced my whole family would die in a flaming inferno. And let me tell you, neither is much fun. I get terrible nightmares about awful things happening to those around me, so much so it would keep awake for the rest of the night. I hate it if he isn't in frequent contact me with me when he is travelling, even though I shout at him for using his phone whilst driving (that frigging iPhone. I swear, he would set a plate for it at dinner time if he could...) What I am grateful for, is he bought me a gift to compensate for his lack of being at home sometimes. The previously mentioned critter of the furry variety. Aptly named after Indiana Jones, as this thing has no idea he is a cat and tends to explore everything. From the freezer to the full bath, he goes in everything. Having this little guy has made a world of difference when I am home alone, and stops me from going stir crazy, and even has little conversations with me (yes he does, ok?). What does keep me going in these dark times of loneliness, is that even when he is not here in person, I still feel him with me every second of the day. Whether I am reminded of him by a passing text checking if I am okay, or whether I see a photo of the two of us, or even if I am washing his stinky socks, he stays in my heart. And even better? I know that I am right there in his.