Jean's Journal

New Year 2012

2012-01-05T10:11:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I’ve had a quiet Christmas, as usual, with my husband coming out with his well-worn comment of ‘I’m not a Christmas person.’ (Well, blow me, Ian. I thought you were!). I don’t like Christmas either, though I suppose what I don’t like about it is the phoney baloney commercialism. Really I shouldn’t complain. I’m fortunate enough to have a loved one to spend Christmas with, enough food and a warm bed; these are things which many people don’t have.

We went to visit Ian’s mum in her care home on Christmas Day. It’s so sad to see people whose bodies have outlived their minds or whose minds are trapped inside failing bodies. But I love the way a feisty ninety-year-old shouts ‘Up the Owls!’ every time Ian walks in because she knows Ian supports the Blades. He teases her by standing in front of her sporting his Blades T-shirt, and a lot of friendly bantering goes on between them. It’s interesting to get chatting to the residents and see the person they once were who is still somewhere inside. They each have their stories to tell. One frail old woman told us she used to be a contortionist. She took delight in showing us photos of her aged about 18 lying on her stomach with her legs over her head. Jeez! How did she manage to untangle herself?

I spent much of Christmas and New Year reading on my Kindle (Yes, I at last succumbed and bought a Kindle). I love being able to instantly download books, but I must take care not to spend a fortune with the all too easy One-Click method.

I enjoyed reading Jeanette Winterson’s autobiography, ‘Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?’, and seeing how this factual account of her life compares with the fictional account in ‘Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit’. I’m fascinated with the struggles many of us women have had, to get to where we are today, and the ways in which we can tell our stories.

Another good book I’ve just finished is ‘Wasted’ by Nicola Morgan. It is a Young Adult novel but also of interest to adults; a successful crossover novel. Jack is an endearing character who tosses a coin to make decisions. The novel explores how the seemingly small and random events from choices we make can change our whole life. Or do we only think we can choose? Do we have free will? Jack is the leader of a band called Schrödinger’s Cat, the title of which brings up for me complicated thoughts about quantum physics and the nature of reality. I’ve been hung up before on this sort of thing. Is what we perceive as external reality constructed in our minds? This thought has me wandering around wondering if the people I see around me are really each a separate existence or have I sort of dreamed them up? I asked Ian how he knows that I’m really here and not just a figment of his imagination. He says there’s no way that even his imagination could conjure up anything like me (I don’t know if this is a compliment or insult). Anyway, it’s all too confusing to think about further and I’d better quit it before curiosity kills the cat (was it Schrödinger’s cat it killed?).

I’ve only drunk alcohol once during these hols, but that once was enough to make me reel off four New Year’s Resolutions and rashly put them up on facebook for all to see. I should have waited until I was nearly sober and just picked ONE. No, I should have waited until I was fully sober and not made any, since I’m hopeless at keeping the flippin things. I resolved to do more writing, eat less junky food, get more exercise and stop reading before 2am when I’ve to get up early. I haven’t done much writing yet but I’m doing some now (if blog writing counts). So far I have been managing to do at least half-an-hour of brisk walking every day. The other two don’t count yet because I haven’t needed to get up early (will do tomorrow when I go back to work) and it wouldn’t be right, would it, not to stuff myself with the chocolates people have kindly given me as presents?

Well, enough of my ramblings. What I'm doing now is putting off making a start on filling in my tax return form, a task I hate.

Ignorance is bliss

2011-11-05T08:50:00.000-07:00

Forty years ago in my other life I was written off as suffering from chronic schizophrenia. Like many people who eventually receive a mental illness diagnosis, I'd had years of abuse before entering the psychiatric system where I got more of the same. I was subdued into silence, my mind in an electro-shocked and heavily drugged torpor. Being labelled a chronic schizophrenic, especially back then, meant being given no hope of ever living a full, productive life. It meant being expected to remain on debilitating medication for life. It meant forgetting the dreams and aspirations you once had, losing your previous identity and being given a new and extremely limiting one.

But perhaps I was fortunate in that I didn't know my diagnosis. I didn't find it out until I read my case notes long after I'd jumped out of the net and after many years of being medication-free and holding down a responsible job.

I didn't know during years of happy marriage, and while sharing many precious times with close friends, that I had an incurable illness which brings about social isolation.

I didn't know when I returned to study and got a first-class degree that I'd got an irreversible brain disease leading to severe cognitive deterioration.

I didn't know I wasn't supposed to achieve all that I had done by then.

I didn't know, until I looked it up in a psychiatric textbook, that people with the rare form of schizophrenia I'd been diagnosed with, are likely to end up as vagrants (well, I suppose there's still time for that. I'd better not push my luck too much!)

I didn't know that I couldn't possibly have gone on to live the full, happy, productive life that I was actually living by then.

So I suppose my journey to 'recovery' (whatever the word 'recovery' means) had been a bit like the flight of the bumble bee in a verse I remember reading once (I'm afraid I can't acknowledge the author or seek copyright permission to reproduce it because I don't know who wrote it):

The scientists have ample proof
Proof no-one can deny
That by accepted theories well
The bumble bee can't fly.
With fat and rounded fuselage
With such small, fragile wings
He cannot even leave the ground
Bees are but crawling things.
And though these facts may all be true
And proved by people wise
The bumble bee, not knowing this
Just goes ahead - and flies.

Well, interpret that as you will.

Me again

2011-09-29T09:31:00.000-07:00

Recent health problems have become much less worrying. My second gynaecological surgery went well and the investigations showed up no serious concerns. It looks like I'm going to be sticking around for longer, which is great. I'm enjoying life and there's still so much I want to do.

Now that summer has ended for the year, I thought I'd take advantage of this unexpected second debut of sunshine and head for the coast. We had a lovely day in Scarborough yesterday. I love being near the sea. I wonder what it would be like to live on the coast. Perhaps not as good as it sounds because I'd probably take it for granted and appreciate it less.

Today I've been wandering the streets looking at gardens. I mean noseying at the ordinary gardens of ordinary people. I wanted to get some ideas of what to do with ours. We only have a small garden and it's badly in need of a complete makeover.

I arrived back home to several emails and messages on the answerphone. One from my speakers club - do I want to take part in a speech competition? Erm.. no, not really, I don't think I do. One from work about the training classes for voluntary workers that I help to run, which start this Saturday. One about a date for a session I'll be doing for social workers at Bradford University (hey, they must have liked what I did last year as I've been invited to do another). One giving details of the book chosen for the next reading club. One from a friend about meeting for lunch ...

I'm going to stop moaning about being busy. It's so nice to be busy again with things I enjoy doing.

One on One

2011-08-31T04:01:00.000-07:00

I was on live radio yesterday on Liz Green's hour-long 'One on One' programme on BBC Radio Leeds. You can listen to it here (available for the next six days).

Being on live radio is kinda scary. On the way to the studio I kept thinking, what if right in the middle of it I want to go to the loo, have a panic attack, feel sick, get one of these optical migraines I keep getting, not know what to say or how best to say it ...

Ian was listening in the waiting room. When I dedicated 'True Love Ways' to him he came and blew a kiss to me through the glass door of the studio where I was being interviewed. Daft bugger! It distracted me momentarily and made me laugh.

Anyway, I did my best, and that's all anyone can do. Actually it turned out to be an interesting and (reasonably) enjoyable experience. But I guess I'll always find writing easier than talking.

Jean is not a happy bunny

2011-07-26T07:57:00.000-07:00

While still in the process of deciding where to go with this blog (don’t tell me!), please allow me to indulge this time in airing my moans.

My GP referred me to a gynaecologist for urgent investigation. First, there were the usual kinds of admin problems. I received an appointment letter on the day, and after the time, that I should have been there. I phoned the receptionist who fitted me into a clinic a couple of days later under the care of someone else. I was seen by a registrar, and apparently some of my case notes were missing. She immediately sent me to the pre-op clinic. I arrived home to find a letter asking me to attend the appointment I had just attended, saying my previous appointment had been changed. I was put on hospital standby for an investigative operation and went in on Monday. Just before my admission, I received a letter from my GP saying she had heard from the gynaecologist that I had not attended for my appointment at his clinic. Once in hospital, nobody knew which consultant I was supposed to be under (and neither do I).

A few days earlier at my pre-op med, the nurse put the blood pressure monitor cuff on my arm and then she said ‘We’ll do the next test at the same time.’ The pre-hospital tests now include screening to ensure you’re not a carrier of MRSA. Anyway, she started pushing a swab on the end of long stick up my nose (at the same time as the BP cuff on my arm was tightening!). As it happened, the swab didn’t have to go far up my nostril but I didn’t know that at first. I just saw the long stick and thought ‘OMG!’ Needless to say she was then concerned that my BP was too high! (Fortunately, the second reading was fine).

To cut a long story short, the worst of it is that after bravely (or not) facing my fear of doctors, hospitals, general anaesthetics and medical procedures, I’ve got nowhere. I came round from the anaesthetic to be told that they hadn’t been able to go ahead with the procedure due to a complication. They’re attempts were bringing too great a risk of perforating my organs so they had to stop. Not their fault this time, I know, but I wonder if my body holds memories of past damaging treatments and has found a way of saying, ‘Leave me alone, you sods! Keep out!’

Yes, I know I shouldn’t moan when others are much worse off than me and I’ve no right to feel sorry for myself and blah, blah, blah. So now I will go and cheer myself up with a big piece of chocolate cake. Oh, I can’t, can I? It still hurts badly when I swallow, due to the tube they inserted.

THINKING ABOUT BLOGGING

2011-07-02T01:56:00.000-07:00

I’m thinking about blogging. That’s the trouble though. It’s easier to spend more time thinking about things than actually doing.

I started this blog back in September 2008, bursting to tell anyone who might listen that I’d at last got a publisher for ‘The Dark Threads’. I was, of course, very young then (well, only fifty-something) and my youthful enthusiasm knew no bounds. I proudly announced that this was my first book (where is the next?) and that I would chart my journey towards publication in this blog.

Okay, been there, done that and got the clichéd old T-shirt. After publication in August 2009, what then? Of one thing I was sure. My blog should continue. Getting a book published doesn’t end on publication day. It was scary but wonderful having the opportunity to speak out about a subject close to my heart while attempting to publicise my book. Me on radio! Me on TV! Me giving talks! Me winning a cup for (I still can’t believe this) Public Speaking!

But then . . . Somehow I was slipping into a ‘So what?’ kind of blogging. I suppose the problem was in trying to decide what to blog about now that I’d done what I set out to do in my profile. Perhaps it was time to wrap up the blog before it degenerated further into the ‘Had a boiled egg for breakfast’ postings. Oh, I loved writing about my treadmill and the dilemma of should I or shouldn’t I exercise with a cold. Fascinating! Or not. Pack it in, Jean, before you get like those old, pot-bellied pop stars who don’t know when to shut up, or those grumpy old women who rant about things like people getting their name wrong.

Perhaps I could start another blog about working on my novel. But I don’t need to talk about that. I just need to GET ON WITH IT. Okay, then, perhaps it definitely is time to finish this blog and bow out gracefully.

No! I want to continue with it.

So now I’ve got some serious thinking to do. I need to sort out what kind of things to write about here. What exactly is the theme of this blog to be now? Where is it going? Where am I going? I’ll get back to blogging when I’ve figured this out.

Flat-pack furniture

2011-05-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

My next blog posting will appear soon. Meanwhile, here is something my husband wrote recently. He spent three wasted hours before reaching his verdict. I thought I'd include Ian's piece here as I suspect many of us can identify with it.

i) flat-pack tv stand.

ii) flat-pack tv stand almost fully assembled.

iii) flat-pack tv stand contains one part where 3x screw holes are MUCH too tight to receive the corresponding very long screws.

iv) flat-pack tv stand contains one part where 3x very long screws are stuck, only part way inserted, with the special screwdriver worn + useless.

v) flat-pack tv stand in bin.

vi) Verdict: f*** flat-pack furniture.

What's in a Name?

2011-04-20T07:29:00.000-07:00

Please note, my name is Jean Davison. Not Davidson. Why do so many people want to put that ‘d’ in it? My name is Davison. Davison. Davison. Does it matter? I used to wonder why my then husband-to-be got annoyed over such a trivial thing. But soon after becoming a Davison myself, I understood.

Yes, it does matter. It mattered when the GP’s receptionist kept telling me the test result I was anxiously waiting for hadn’t yet arrived. She could have put me out of my misery weeks earlier if she hadn’t been looking up ‘Davidson’ on the computer.

It matters with book publicity when my book ‘The Dark Threads’ is advertised as ‘by Jean Davidson’ and, even worse, an ebook version came out in the name of ‘Davidson’.

It mattered when I once went on a customer relations course at work where the course leader stressed the importance of getting people’s names correct. At last, someone understood that it mattered. After the course, I received an impressive looking certificate, and on it in fancy lettering, it said … Jean Davidson.

For heaven’s sake! My name is Davison. Davison. Davison.

Well, now I’ve got that out of my system, let’s take a brief look at the history behind surnames. Did you know that in England alone there are around 45,000 different surnames, each with a historical source? Before the Norman Conquest of Britain, when communities were small, each person just had a single name. Gradually further identification was needed, so a person might be called Joseph the Butcher, Peter the short or John son of David (or maybe he was son of Davy).

By 1400 most English families were using hereditary surnames, often based on occupations, nicknames, places and father’s names. This meant that these surnames stuck in future generations when the original source no longer applied to a person. So now we get vegetarians with the surname of Butcher, bad people called Good, sweet-tempered people called Moody and miserable sods called Jolley. Of course, some people do fit their names. A former colleague of mine with the surname of Drinkall seemed to feel a need to live up to this at office parties.

Does Professor Wiseman fit his name, I wonder? The results of a survey he conducted indicated that we make assumptions about someone’s lifestyle and character based simply on their first name. He gave 7,000 volunteers a list of 20 male and 20 female names and found there was shared agreement on who they imagined would be the most or least attractive. Ann and George were considered the least attractive. Sophie and Ryan were considered the most attractive. Myself I doubt that this research stands up to much scrutiny (sorry, Professor Wiseman). The name ‘Ryan’ in my mind will always be linked with a snotty-nosed kid at primary school. I’ve never liked that name since.

The same name can sound different depending on where we put the emphasis. I became interested in this as a child, listening to mothers standing on their doorsteps calling out the names of their children. This was the fifties when even very young children roamed the streets freely. My friend Andrew’s mum used to call ‘Ann – drew’, which I thought sounded like a sneeze. And it was a silly way to say it anyway because it caused all the Ann’s in the area to come first.

Sometimes people need to change a name that just doesn’t sound right for a particular occupation or image. Imagine Cliff Richard sticking to the somewhat boring sounding name of Harry Webb? Or a young, rebellious Bob Dylan being announced as Robert Zimmerman.

Some people get really narked if you get their name wrong. I know of a Mr O’Nions who turns beetroot when someone calls him Mr Onions. And a Mrs Portray whose feathers get rustled if she’s called Mrs Poultry. I can’t see what the fuss is about. I mean, why can’t they just develop a sense of humour?

Oh, yes. Let me remind you. My name is Davison, not Davidson. It’s Davison. Davison. Davison.

Did You Know???

2011-04-10T04:38:00.000-07:00

Did you know that using a treadmill can be educational? To offset boredom during an hour's treadmilling session I've found it necessary to listen to anything that comes on the radio during that time. It's amazing what fascinating snippets of knowledge you can pick up from doing that.

Did you know that around 456BC a Greek dramatist died when an eagle dropped a tortoise on his bald head? Or that in 1718 the Irish Parliament passed the Coffee Adulteration Act by which it was forbidden (among other things) to attempt to pass off sheep dung as coffee beans? To get more up to date, did you know that copper door handles kill germs whereas the little buggers thrive on those made of aluminium or stainless steel? This must mean that when I wash my hands before making sandwiches in the kitchen and then bring the food through into another room to eat, I'm eating... No, let's not go there.

Anyway, what's all this got to do with getting on with writing my novel? Absolutely nothing. Unless I grab the idea of having the villain of the piece become a victim of a falling tortoise.

Authors North Spring Meeting

2011-03-27T06:02:00.000-07:00

I must stop taking these blog holidays and resume my self-appointed job of cluttering up the internet.

I'm fired up now with all things to do with writing and publishing, after going to the Authors North SOA Spring Meeting at Hull yesterday. I met some lovely people there and we had lots of interesting discussion.

The meeting was held at the Hull History Centre. In the morning we had a fascinating talk by Judy Burg, an archivist who then split us into two groups to take us on a tour around the archives. The papers stored there are so well looked after with sensitive sensors to keep the temperature exactly to their liking. The rows upon rows of shelves stacked with boxes, and the whole atmosphere of the place, makes you feel as if you're inside a film set. It all seemed surreal. Among the thousands of archived material, they have original documents of Sylvia Plath. Also of much interest to me were the poems of Stevie Smith written when her work was still in progress, along with her quirky illustrations. Spread out on a table for us to see and touch were, among a wealth of other interesting material, the notebooks of Philip Larkin.

After lunch it was the Society of Authors Roadshaw. Ebooks, Kindle, Amazon, the Google Settlement, tax issues, copyright and the current state of publishing were discussed in a lively questions and answers session. All too soon we were finishing our coffee and polishing off the last remnants of the delicious banana & carrot cake and it was time to go.

The SOA staff and the members who attended were warm and friendly, great sense of humour and all so passionate about writing. I hope to keep in touch via the internet until it's time to meet again at the next meeting in Autumn.

Decision Time

2011-01-30T07:33:00.000-08:00

Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I? Shouldn't I? (go on the treadmill when I've got a stinking cold)? No, of course not. Surely this calls for a day of pampering myself. Stay in, laze about, drink orange juice, read a bit, have a sleep . . . Or am I a wimp?

Seeking confirmation of my hypothesis that 'Exercising with a cold is unsafe' I looked it up on several Internet sites. Oh dear, the general consensus of expert (well what do they know?) opinion seems to be it's okay to do mild to moderate exercise if your cold is 'above your neck'. So just a runny nose, congestion and sneezing shouldn't be used as an excuse. Yes, well... I expect those who wrote this are younger and fitter than I am. They'd probably say don't let not being able to breathe make you think you've got a good excuse for not trying to exercise.

Well, here I am in my tracksuit bottoms and trainers, wondering what I should do. If I don't sneeze again in the next five - ten - fifteen (or perhaps I'll make it twenty) minutes, then I will do it.

But why does the name Jim Fix keep coming to my mind? Who was he?

Swear Box

2011-01-03T16:13:00.001-08:00

A sweet old lady in her nineties, whom Ian regularly visits, gave him this pink piggy money box as a present. About an hour ago he announced that he will use it as a swear box. Each time he swears he has to put a pound in it. When full, the money will go to a charity (which one is still to be decided).

It wasn't long before the first pound went inside. I was questioning him about something I disagreed with, and he told me to stop asking b... stupid questions. The second pound had to go in not long after the first. He was asleep on the sofa and I looked up my book ranking on Amazon. 'Ooh, it's sold one today!' I yelled, jolting him into the land of the living and out he came with another swear word.

If he carries on swearing at this rate it will soon be full. He says I'm purposely antagonising him into swearing. (No, I'm not, says I innocently. Come on, Ian, you can't blame me. You're not a puppet.) I've decided not to join him in this particular fund raising for charity venture. It's not that I swear a lot normally. Actually I swear very little, but if I start thinking about it and trying not to, then I'm sure the words will just come out.

So I'll leave this one to him and see how he gets on. Watch this space.

Fitness

2010-12-30T08:54:00.000-08:00

We've just been out and done it. Not only talked about it but done it. Ordered a treadmill to put in the conservatory. So in future when I go into the conservatory alone, with my sixties and seventies songs to reminisce to, instead of sitting on my fat backside and drinking too many G & Ts, I can be doing something positive and healthy (ooh, where's my halo?). No excuses now for not doing at least a bit of exercise every day whatever the weather.

This is a short posting as I'm in a rush now. We're going out to see some friends for mulled wine and mince pies.

Normal blog service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Busy, busy, busy

2010-12-16T08:54:00.000-08:00

Busy, busy, busy. And now the manuscript of my novel is almost completed. Time soon to celebrate finishing it. But I think I might have a problem. It's a novel for adults with a teenage protagonist. Googling just brings up YA for novels with teenage protagonists. Is it that adults tend to want adult main characters, and only teenagers want teenagers? Can't a novel with (dare I use the phrase?) 'coming-of-age' themes be of interest to adults and not be aimed at the Young Adult market?

I suppose it's a bit late for me to be wondering about this now. Why didn't I think about 'The Market' before I started writing it? Well, I did. I felt I was writing for adults but through the eyes of a teenager. Was I naive?

Go for it!

2010-11-23T05:47:00.001-08:00

I seem to have embarked on a new career as a speaker. Wot? Moi! No sooner have I finishing giving a talk I've to start preparing another. At each talk there is usually one person in the audience who asks me afterwards if I will do a talk at their organisation. I must be doing something right. Great! I'm not saying this to brag. It's just that I've had so much trouble with shyness in the past that I can't help feeling flushed with pleasure each time I manage to come over as a competent and confident speaker.

It makes me wonder how many other things I've been held back from attempting in the past with thinking 'I can't do it. I'm simply not the kind of person who can do...' I suppose that's not a bad thing if it's informed by a heavy dose of realistic self-awareness. I mean, if I'd had the confidence to get up onto a stage and sing, it doesn't mean I should have done that. I really can't sing a note in tune. X-factor here I come - I think not! But, singing apart, perhaps there's a lot of things that maybe, just maybe, I could have done. If only I'd realised that years ago!

Twitter

2010-10-26T14:31:00.001-07:00

I held out against it for so long. How can I find time to Twitter when I can't find time to write? Facebook is bad enough, the way it sucks me in and has me messing about on it when I've too much to do. So, no, of course I'm not going to sign up for Twitter. 'Oh yes you are,' said the pantomime baddie. Oh no I'm not.

But . . . I got curious. Was I missing out on something? I found some really helpful postings about Twitter in Nicola Morgan's blog archive. I printed out her instructions on how to get started - purely out of interest of course. Well, I suppose I could open an account just to try it, couldn't I? That was it. Hooked.

I'm just lurking there now. I'm not going to start spending too much time up that tree. I'm going to be, oh, so sensible. Until I have made satisfactory progress with my novel you won't hear a tweet out of me. And I'll wait until I've halved my 'To Do' list. Only then will I deserve to give myself a tweet (okay, that last joke is badly in need of a 'corn' plaster).

O be joyful at the Ilkley Literature Festival

2010-10-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

As usual, the Ilkley Literature Festival has been full of sparkling events. I was thrilled to be able to participate this year. We had our event last night at the Ilkley Playhouse, ‘we’ being myself and the Leeds Survivors Poetry Group. I did a talk and readings from ‘The Dark Threads’ for the first half of the session, and then five members of the poetry group read out two of their poems in turn. Ian my husband was, as always, a brilliant support and I love him lots. He sat at the back of the theatre, manning the bookstall.

My book is obviously about a difficult and painful time in my life. What happened to me, and to many others, was wrong. I wanted to write a serious book with a serious message, and I believe I have done. However, without downplaying this, it seemed appropriate on this occasion to focus mainly on humour and hope. Most of the extracts I chose showed the courage and strengths of the patients I used to know, many of whom had a great sense of humour despite the often immense difficulties in their lives.

I must have changed a lot because I didn’t feel scared to death as I stood on the stage behind a lectern with a microphone. I’m not used to a microphone and it was interesting to do my parrot impersonation into it (not good for my throat though – think I need a Strepsil).

Here’s an extract from ‘The Dark Threads’ in fondest memory of Popsy:

Even the hospital parrot had a sense of humour. In part of the grounds surrounding the hospital there was a small aviary which housed, among other birds, Popsy the parrot whose party piece was to say ‘O be joyful’ to the watching groups of depressed patients.

‘O be joyful,’ Popsy said as Georgina stuck her face near the mesh to get a closer look.

‘Don’t you “O be joyful” me,’ Georgina said crossly.

‘O be joyful. O be joyful. O be joyful,’ the parrot squawked, running backwards and forwards along its perch.

‘You horrible creature. I’ll wring your neck if you don’t shut up,’ Georgina said, sounding as if she meant it, but then she turned to me with a smile. ‘Oh, listen to me arguing with a bloody parrot. I’m so miserable and bad-tempered today, I don’t know what to do.’

‘What to do? What to do? O be joyful,’ the parrot suggested.

Learning to talk

2010-10-10T06:09:00.000-07:00

I did my presentation to a class of mental health professionals at Bradford University. I actually enjoyed doing it (thanks to the confidence I've gained at my ASC speakers club). My uni talk was about how the mental health services used to be in the sixties and seventies, highlighting many of the issues which are still relevant. We discussed what needs to be done differently to prevent people today having similar bad experiences of the system to those that I, and many others, have had.

The following day Professor Phil Thomas, one of the founders of Critical Psychiatry, came to Bradford University to do a presentation, and I was invited to that. I couldn't find anything to argue with him about. He was lovely. After the session I plucked up courage to give him one of my book promo cards. He said he'll get it. I hope he does.

Next thing coming up on the book front is this Friday when, along with some members of the Leeds Survivors Poetry Group, I'll be doing a reading at the Ilkley Literature Festival.

A few weeks after the Ilkley festival, I've been invited to be Guest Speaker at the AGM of a Mental Health Advocacy Group. I'm delighted that over a year after 'The Dark Threads' was published I'm still getting spin offs. I do hope that at least in some small way I'm helping to right some wrongs by speaking out.

But I must-must-must get on with writing my novel.

Me again

2010-10-08T03:11:00.000-07:00

This can't be right. It can't be that I haven't posted since 14th August. I knew I'd neglected my blog for a while but I'd honestly no idea it was for so long. Does anyone care? I don't know, but I do. No point having a blog if I'm not going to keep up with it. I've been busy (really I have) but not with things that would make interesting blog reading. But good writers don't wait for something madly interesting to happen to inspire them. They just write and make whatever they write interesting through the strengths of their writing. So why can't I? (don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question).

Anyway, to get me going with my blog again, I decided to just sign in and, well, get going. I'm tapping away on the keyboard just letting my rambling thoughts pour onto the page. This isn't the way to make riveting reading, I know, but at least it's getting me going again. I don't want this blog to degenerate into the character of the Tony Hancock's sketch who tried to keep a diary and said things like 'Today I had a boiled egg for breakfast'. But, on the other hand, if I just wait for pearls of wisdom before I write anything, I might as well clock off and go to bed.

The room has just filled with the sound of barking dogs (my new doorbell tone) so I'd better see what's up. I might just have been about to write something wonderful. But, like Coleridge getting interrupted by the 'man from Porlock', the world will never know. I'll be back soon.

Saying NO and feeling guilty

2010-08-14T05:36:00.000-07:00

I've figured out why I've been suffering from back pain lately. It's because I forgot my age and fitness level last week when playing with my six-year-old great-niece (OMG! 'Great' makes me feel so old!). We enjoyed pulling each other about and playing at see-saws. It was great fun at the time.

I must do something about keeping fit since I gave up my gym membership over a year ago. Nah, I don't need to pay gym fees to get fit, I told myself. I can do it myself for free. Well, that idea hasn't worked out for lazy bones me. I realise now that it was the paying that gave me the incentive to go.

I should go for a walk. No, I can't with my bunion.

I should go swimming. No, it might trigger off my recurring ear infection.

I should buy a treadmill or exercise bike. No, I've nowhere to put one.

I should get one of those what d'ya call it, a wii? No, I've heard they're no good for keeping fit.

I should rejoin the gym. No, I can't afford it.

I should stop making excuses and get off my backside. No, I can't. I've got lots of writing to catch up on today . . .

White Rose Ladies Humorous Speech - 12 July 2010

2010-07-16T02:57:00.000-07:00

Sunny July

2010-07-12T02:19:00.000-07:00

Contacting universities (see post below) paid off. I've been offered the opportunity to teach post-grad students on a mental health course. I'll have to prepare carefully what I want to get across, but it's not until early-October so I've got plenty of time to think about it.

Also in October I'll be joining with the Leeds Survivor Poetry group to put on an event at the Ilkley Literature Festival. Sounds like October will be an exciting month for me.

I'm still going to the Speakers Club and tonight I'll be doing a humorous talk on video. The practice I get there increases my confidence no end. I've progressed from dreading the meetings to enjoying them!

At last our new conservatory is ready. I've been spending the last couple of evenings in it sipping G & Ts and watching the changing colours of the sky (better than watching telly!). Next plan is to have a few friends round for a Conservatory Warming Party.

Well, I think that's just about all my news for the moment. My novel-in-progress is inching along. I've been re-reading 'Crow Lake' by Mary Lawson and wishing I could write like that.

Still at it

2010-06-23T05:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, that's an ambiguous blog post title. What am I still at? I'd like to say writing my novel, but I've been getting distracted again. It's about ten months since publication of 'The Dark Threads' but I'm 'still at it' trying to make people aware of my book who just might find it interesting or useful. Although it is mainly aimed at the 'general' reader, I've been told it would also be excellent for teaching purposes on mental health courses. So . . .

I've been contacting universities all over the UK, trying to convince course leaders that my book is just what their students on mental health courses need. Actually I'm sounding a bit flippant now, but this isn't just about my book. I do honestly believe that students in training to become mental health professionals would benefit from an understanding of how it feels to be on the receiving end of treatment. They have enough dry and stuffy textbooks to read, written by professional experts who have the theories. The perspectives and 'lived through' experiences of both current and former patients are often missing, and much needed. Fortunately, it seems that nowadays some course leaders fully agree. I'm delighted at the positive responses I've received so far.

But it's all very time consuming. My novel is taking a back seat again, though hopefully not for too long.

Catching up

2010-06-17T09:18:00.000-07:00

The months are rushing by and I'm lagging behind. I've got so much catching up to do, so I'll start with this blog. I can't believe it's mid-June already. I've sniffed and sneezed my way through the past few weeks with hay fever, but I think the Beconase is now starting to work. I'm funny about taking medication for anything, perhaps because of the drugs (prescribed) trouble I had in the past. I know that was different, but now I just don't like taking any sort of medication if I can help it.

I've been working on my novel but it's been a case of two steps forward and two steps back. I write a chapter, feel pleased with it and then the next day I read it again and I'm not. My recycling bin is full of discarded pages of my manuscript.

We had our 26th wedding anniversary on Tuesday. What did we do to celebrate? Well, we had a plate of chips in Morrison's (romantic, eh?) and then we trailed around trying to choose furniture for our spanking new (almost ready) conservatory. We came home feeling tired, shared a bottle of wine - and went to sleep.

This, as you will have gathered, is a disjointed blog posting where I jump from one unconnected subject to another. Blame the hay fever (or is it the Beconase?) for my butterfly mind.

Documentary

2010-05-21T09:45:00.000-07:00

The sound of my recorded voice always catapults me up the cringe factor scale. Hearing myself on the BBC4 documentary 'Mental: A History of the Madhouse' was no exception. However, I'm pleased that the programme makers took a sobering look at the dark side of the history of psychiatry. What went on in those places needs to come out in the open. And, as I once read somewhere: 'Once you know, you can't unknow.'

By the way, if anyone who's interested missed it, BBC4 are repeating it on Tuesday 25th May at 11.30pm.

Memory

2010-05-07T06:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I suppose it is inevitable that the memory cells of women of a certain age will sometimes clock off and go to bed.

Last week I was happily browsing facebook when I suddenly looked at the clock and thought, 'Erm, shouldn't I be somewhere at this time today? Work!' To be fair, I do work irregular days and hours, doing different shifts to cover for staff leave. But, forgetting to go to work! Oh dear, that's a new one even for me. I had to get off my backside and rush off out, to arrive late at work, full of apologies, with some feeble (though true) excuse of forgetting what shift I was on.

Yesterday I was half-way to a group meeting at a health centre where I was booked to do a talk/reading when I realised I'd forgotten to bring the book I was supposed to be reading from ('The Dark Threads', of course). I had to rush back home to get it.

And now, after reading a really scary article by Blake Morrison in The Guardian about writers quoting from pop songs - click here to see it - I'm frantically looking through my book to check that I remembered to take out before publication all the lines from songs I'd quoted. If I've forgotten to remove some of them, it's too late now. Fortunately I haven't come across any forgotten ones so far - I realised in time that I needed to remove them, though I hadn't realised quite how steep the price of leaving them in would have been.

Spring has sprung

2010-04-28T14:43:00.000-07:00

Well, it really does look as if spring as sprung. Lovely weather for the past few days. I hope that it doesn't unspring again. Not that I've been out much lately. I've been keeping my head down (no, not lying on the sofa) but getting on with writing my novel. I seem to work in fits and spurts. It goes really well for a while, and then I hit a block again (as I've done now).

This is the lull before the storm. From tomorrow onwards for I don't know how long, there'll be workmen all over the place. We're having lots of jobs done on the house, not least fitting a conservatory. I can't wait until it's all finished. I don't like the thought of all the upheaval, and I'm untidy enough without anything adding to the chaos.

I was delighted to see four copies of The Dark Threads in Waterstones, Leeds. The time before when I looked, there was only one, so (yipee!) they must have decided to order some more, which (double yipee!) must mean my books have been selling. The woman standing next to me pulled it off the shelf to read the blurb, and I managed (just) to resist the temptation to tug at her sleeve and say, 'Hey, you must buy that. It's a really good book.'

I'm also thrilled to see a super-dooper review, which you can read here.

And so to bed...

Authors North Spring Meeting

2010-04-20T08:13:00.000-07:00

I enjoyed the SOA's Authors North Spring Meeting on Saturday, which was in Chester this year. The theme was 'Fantasy and Terror' and the two speakers were David Whitley and Ramsey Campbell. David Whitley's presentation was particularly good. I must say I haven't read many books in that genre, but his enthusiasm and skills as a speaker drew me in. I also found myself observing his talk with a view to improving my own public speaking skills.

It was lovely to meet new people and also to see again some of those I met last year. There was a table to display our books. We weren't allowed to sell our books, but I 'exchanged' mine with Carol Fenlon for her novel 'Consider the Lilies'.

I started reading Carol's novel last night and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. I've nearly finished it as I couldn't put it down to get to sleep. The themes are multi-layered, but, basically, it's about a girl's feral childhood in 1960s Lancashire and her friend's search for the missing homeless adult she becomes. As it says on the blurb, this 'powerful and thought-provoking debut novel uses unique language and devices to challenge perceptions of homelessness, identity and exclusion in modern society.' It's poignant, beautifully written, and well worth a read. I'm off to get back to it now.

Break

2010-04-16T03:20:00.000-07:00

I didn't mean to have a break from blogging. It just sort of happened. Okay, that's a poor excuse. Other people, many of whom I'm sure are busier than I am, seem to manage to blog regularly. It's not even as if I'm putting off something I don't want to do: I love blogging. Even if only very few people read it, it is something I want to do. But somehow it's got left behind in my recent burst of activity. So what exactly have I been doing?

Well, on the writing front, I've been working hard on my novel and aim to have it ready to send out to agents soon. I've also been writing articles for magazines and journals. Just had one published (though I wrote this one ages ago) in the Healthcare, Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal (HCPJ).

On the book-promotion front for 'The Dark Threads' I'm continuing to give talks (though not many, I must admit), and I'm plodding on at the Speakers Club towards my Certificate, which tickles me a bit because public speaking is (or used to be) about as un-me as you could get! I've been participating in a project with the Huddersfield University who are putting on an exhibition which starts at the Thackray Medical Museum in a couple of weeks. I'm about to make an exhibition of myself. Watch this space.

Other stuff: we're going to have a conservatory built onto the back of the house. I have dreams of sitting there sipping G & Ts and watching the sunsets. However, first there is the alarming level of disruption to put up with. We need the boiler moving, the gas meter moving, and various other building work before they can start erecting it. We're also about to have a hole made in the living room wall to fit a gas fire and other disrupting jobs done. Perhaps I'll escape to a cafe to escape all the muck, dust, noise and chaos. There, I can sit happily and write (like J K Rowling).

I'm going to the Authors North Spring Meeting of the Society of Authors on Saturday, which is in Chester this year. I'm looking forward to that.

My plans for the weeks ahead are to continue to get my novel finished, get back to writing my blog - and, oh, yes, just have a good time, as I hope anyone who might happen to read this is doing.

Chance

2010-03-08T03:54:00.000-08:00

Last night (nothing interesting on telly) I got into a discussion with Ian, my husband, about how the important things in life often happen by chance. One different decision and your whole life could be totally different for ever! Thinking of this set us off on all the 'What if's...?' and we inevitably got round to, 'What if you or I hadn't done this or that? We'd never have met.'

In the early-seventies Ian was living on a kibbutz on the Sea of Galilee and he decided to return to the UK. He didn't know whereabouts in the UK to choose so he closed his eyes and stuck a pin in a map. Leeds it was - and me he met. (It's a good job the pin didn't land in the middle of the North Sea!).

We almost met a few years earlier than we did. I answered an advert in the paper for a bedsit to let in a large house, not knowing that my future husband was living in the bedsit next door. I came along to view it. However, I decided instead to get a bedsit nearer a main road as I didn't fancy walking home alone at nights down a long, dark, lonely road. It was the time of the Yorkshire Ripper, and I couldn't afford taxis.

Anyway, what's all this to do with writing, you might ask. After all, this blog is supposed to be something to do with writing. Well, certainly in writing fiction we have to decide whether or not chance encounters seem realistic enough to include. Often not, I suppose, as life is definitely stranger than fiction (although Charlotte Bronte got away with some whopping coincidences). We do have to keep asking 'What if?' when writing, and this is a good basis for letting our imagination soar.

I don't do much forward planning before starting to write a novel. Maybe I should, but I don't. In my novel-in-progress I'm about to have a young woman closing her eyes and sticking a pin in a map to decide where to live. Now I wonder where the pin will land and what adventures will it lead her into?

Blog Award

2010-02-23T10:25:00.000-08:00

Many thanks to Miriam who has given me this lovely Blog Award.

I've now got to list five fascinating things about myself. Well, here goes:

(1) I have just got my freedom bus pass, having reached my Big Birthday.

(2) I'm finding it hard to believe that I have just got my freedom bus pass, having reached my Big Birthday.

(3) I was happy when my husband cooked me a lovely meal yesterday.

(4) I was not happy to find a caterpillar in above meal.

(5) I love writing, reading, chocolate and my husband (not necessarily in that order).

And now I'm supposed to pass the award to five bloggers who deserve to receive it. There are lots of deserving bloggers out there. I'm spoilt for choice. I'll have to give this more thought later.

Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T07:14:00.000-08:00

Ian and I have decided that we're going to have some good, old-fashioned, together-time this evening. Well, it is Valentine's Day. This evening at a time not yet decided we're going to turn off our computers, open the bottle of wine I was given after my recent talk at Horsforth Library (organisers of library talks seem to know I like wine), and we're going to eat cheese & crackers with it (vegan cheese for Ian, of course), dim the lights, put on some romantic music, and . . .

At one time that might have been just a normal evening for us, but a 'normal' evening has become something quite different - for which I blame computers. In our living room we have a desk in the corner on which is 'my' computer. Ian has a lap-top. Often we're sitting at our computers only a few feet from each other, doing our own thing, and we might as well be in a room on our own. Sometimes we both happen to notice we're on facebook at the same time (you know that 'chat' thingy in the bottom right-hand corner that tells you who else is online). We have even used the facebook instant messaging service to say 'Hello!' to each other (I kid you not) from across the room. Well, this sort of thing has just got to stop. At least for tonight.

How did you spend Valentine's Day?

Now!

2010-01-23T13:05:00.000-08:00

You know those automatic photo booths that spew out passport-type photos? Has anyone managed to get a photo they're happy with from them? And is the whole experience of using one frazzle-free?

At the first supermarket a fraught mother with a child in a buggy was standing by the machine, yelling at the sales person. It had taken her money. Where was her photo? The assistant explained that her money would be refunded.
'But that's no help,' the young woman yelled (she had to yell to make herself heard above the first noisy wail of her child). 'I need a passport photo.' She glared at the machine. 'I've come all the way here especially to get one.'
'I'm sorry. I'll put up an 'Out of Order' notice and phone for a service engineer.'
'When will he come?'
'I don't know. Probably some time within the next few days.'
'A fat lot of good that is!'
'We'll refund your money.'
'But I need a photo now. What are you going to do about it?'
I felt sorry for the assistant. After all, it wasn't her fault.
'I'm sorry but there's nothing else I can do. I can't fix the machine.'
'But I need a photo.' The woman looked ready to stamp her feet and compete with her child in a temper tantrum. 'Now!'.
'Now!' squealed the child in the same irate tone as her mother.
I decided to leave.

Another supermarket. Another machine. The first person in the queue, a pretty teenager, looked pleased with herself as she slipped her photos into her bag. I'm old enough to remember when the photos took about six minutes or more to arrive and ages to dry. Nowadays they arrive in seconds and are dry immediately. Well, that's some progress. My turn now.

I rotated the seat to adjust the height, but no matter how much I swivelled, it remained too low. I don't know why. It's not as if I'm a particularly small person. Not to worry. If I sat up straight and craned my neck a bit I could manage. My four pounds clunked down the slot. 'Take care to make sure your head is inside the oval frame,' a robotic voice warned me. 'Look straight ahead. Keep still. Do not smile. Keep your lips together. I repeat, do NOT smile'. I do as I am told. Here we go. Nothing happened, except some funny whirring noises. I waited. Has it done? Yes, I think so. 'If you are happy with your photo, press the green button.' I peered at the image to check my head was inside the oval. The rest I wasn't bothered about. It would do.

I stepped outside the booth, and almost immediately my four identical photos dropped out of the slot. OMG! How had I missed what I would look like before pressing that green button? It wasn't just that my non-smile made me look a miserable sod, I could have lived with that. But one eye was half-open, the other almost closed. I looked like I'd dropped down from another planet. To say I looked drunk, dopey and totally gormless would be an understatement.

Ian, who'd been buying a paper, came and stood beside me. 'Let's have a look,' he said.
'I'll have to do it again,' I said.
'Don't talk daft. We can't throw money away. It'll do. Let's have a look.'
I showed him.
He collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that made his eyes stream.
People were staring at us. I went back inside the booth and hid behind the curtain.

The next set of photos were better (well, believe me, they simply had to be). I look a bit pop-eyed on them because I was taking care to keep my eyes wide open, but at least they're passable.
'I'll shred these as soon as I get home,' I said, staring in dismay at the first lot.
Ian snatched them from my hand. 'No, we can't waste money. I'll use them to make funny greetings cards.'
'Don't you dare. Give them back to me.'
He grinned.
'Now!' I said, sounding like the fraught mother in the first store.

I still haven't got them back.

Still trying

2010-01-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

I wish getting national publicity for The Dark Threads was as easy as what getting local interest has proved to be. Of course it is not. But the sparklers are still alight at least for regional publicity. This Saturday I'm being interviewed for BBC Radio Leeds 'Saturday Breakfast Show' at around 7am (Eeek! I hope my alarm works!). They say they'll link this with my appearance on Monday's 'Inside Out' TV programme (BBC1).

I've got five more talks lined up over the coming weeks at various locations: library, health centre, community centre, and (wait for it) a church fellowship group have invited me to talk. I know I'm not going to be paid a huge fee or sell shed loads of books at any of these talks, but it's well worth it for me, if only in terms of self-development. Before all this, I was too shy to speak much in front of an audience of more than one! Now I'm actually enjoying public speaking!!! (Well, if I keep saying this, it will make it come true).

I must say though that I'm getting fed up of talking about myself. It's good to talk about different things at my speakers club. I was all set to get up on my soapbox to do my zoo talk last week (about the wrongs of zoos) but it's been postponed due to the weather. Still lots of snow and ice here. Brrrr! I'm off now to make a big pan of soup (vegan of course).

New Year Resolutions

2010-01-09T13:27:00.000-08:00

Here they are, the same old resolutions, poking out to taunt me. Write every day. Finish novel. Enter Mslexia short story competition. Renew gym membership. And then all the 'Thou Shalt Nots'. Don't let blogging, facebooking, browsing on internet, erode writing time. Eat less, cut down on chocolate, drink less wine, and don't waste time watching EastEnders.

Well, this year it's different. I'm sending them packing. Nobody will get a chance to say to me, 'But I thought you said you were going to...' The only resolution I've made this year is I WILL NOT MAKE ANY NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS.

I should have said that years ago. When I was eleven I wrote my New Year Resolution on a card and decorated it with coloured crayons all the way round the edges. In big fancy lettering in the middle of my drawings of balloons, stars and, yes, golden trumpets, I wrote (no doubt at a time of intense feelings of guilt) 'I WILL NOT BE CHEEKY TO MY MOTHER'. How embarrassing when I lent my Bunty Annual to my friend next door, forgetting I'd used this card as a bookmark. How even more embarrassing when my friend's mother came round and gave it to my mother. And how damn infuriating when the next time I shouted at my mother, she reminded me of these words and waved the blasted card in my face.

But, no, I still didn't learn. Worse, much worse, was to come. A few years later, I wrote out my good intention for each day of the week on scraps of paper. I folded up the pieces of paper, put them into an envelope, meaning to pick out one each day and try to live up to it. I promptly forgot about them. When I went back to school, after being off sick, I handed the teacher a letter from my mother to explain my absence. Guess which envelope she'd put her letter in? Imagine the rate of my cringe factor when, in front of the whole class, the teacher picked out each of my notes and read them out one by one, to the amused delight of my classmates.

Anyway, back to the present. I've learnt something about myself. I'm better at writing on post-it notes and making out long 'To Do' lists than actually getting things done. That's why this year I'm not going to plan, prepare and trumpet about what I'm going to do. I'll just quietly get on with it.

One Last Dance?

2010-01-06T10:25:00.000-08:00

This photo * of me in the ballroom at the former High Royds Hospital was supposed to go with my post of 9th December 'Forty Years On'. Unfortunately, despite how long I've been using a computer, I couldn't figure out how to put it on in that post. Each time I tried, it kept appearing in the wrong place, ie. on top of the photo I'd put at the beginning of my posting. Other bloggers manage to put more than one photo in different parts of a posting, so why I'm not capable of doing that, I do not know.

I've just found out that the Look North 'Inside Out' programme (Yorks and Lincs) containing my interview will be on Monday 18th January at 7.3opm. It's given in the Radio Times as Monday 11th January, but they've changed it to do a programme about the recent snowfall.

*Photo taken by Mark Davis (copyright).

Christmas is coming

2009-12-19T07:04:00.001-08:00

Christmas is coming and Jean is getting fat. I've been enjoying going out for Christmas meals, and sod the diet.

It's snowing today. Brrr!! But I'm happily ensconed in front of the fire, making occasional trips to the window to enjoy the sight of it. It does look nice, I must admit. I could quite enjoy snow if it wasn't cold and wet and prone to turn to slippery ice.

Well, I've at last got all my cards sent and presents wrapped. Very few people are getting presents from me this year because I've made a donation instead to a children's hospice. I think now I've got everything done that needed doing today, I've no excuse but to get on with some writing. I wonder why I've started to put writing at the bottom of my list of priorities. Once I start writing, it's usually OK, but somehow it takes me a lot of time and effort to clear the decks and make a start on the writing.

If anyone happens to be reading this, HAPPY CHRISTMAS, AND BEST WISHES FOR THE NEW YEAR 2010.

Forty years on

2009-12-09T06:26:00.001-08:00

Today I went back to the deteriorating former mental institution where I spent some time as a patient forty years ago. This picture shows that they cleaned up the stonework about a year ago, but not the clock tower. It still has an eerily, Gothic appearance to me.

As mentioned in an earlier blog posting, I did go back there recently to be filmed in the grounds for a documentary which goes out on BBC4 in the New Year and is to be used by the Open University. This documentary has been given the (purposely provocative) title of 'Mental: A History of the Madhouse'.

The filming today, however, was for another (unrelated) BBC documentary, one which will be shown on the Yorkshire and Lincolnshire Inside Out programme, and this time we actually went inside the building.

The West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum (as it used to be called until the name changed to High Royds Hospital) was once a magnificent building (from an architectural standpoint) with intricate mosaic floors, stained glass windows and elaborate archways. It is now in a dismal state of disrepair. At first we were told we wouldn't be allowed to go inside without wearing tin hats (health and safety rules) and boots, but this was later waived. I met up with reporter Charlotte Leeming, two camera men, and a site construction official who let us in.

With a camera man in front of us, Charlotte and I wandered along freezing cold, dim corridors with peeling walls and muddy water on the floor, while I reminisced about this place in the late-sixties and early-seventies. I remembered seeing institutionalised long-stay inmates shuffling along these corridors, some chuntering to themselves, and looking dejected. I was a teenager then, who felt I'd somehow strayed into a different world.

We went into the ballroom. Yes, among the labyrinth of corridors in this house of horrors, there had been a huge and grandiose ballroom. My mind travelled back to the teenage me at a Christmas dance there, and I could picture again the sad-eyed patients in paper hats doing a largactil shuffle around the floor to the sound of a band playing 'White Christmas'. It seemed strange to be there inside that same place forty years on, and the memories were so vivid.

Look back, accept, and then let go. Time to move on.

Damn it!!!

2009-12-04T04:22:00.000-08:00

It all started when a magazine editor contacted me to ask if I could email a photo of myself. This was to go with an article I'd written ages ago and had almost forgotten about. Of course she needed it straight away. I hadn't got a suitable one. Husband to the rescue with his digital camera. 'It'll be best taking it outside to get more light,' he said. So out we went.

I closed the front door after us, not realising that when Ian opened it, he'd left the key on the inside. Closing the door locked us out! I'd gone outside with no coat and wearing a thin T-shirt and flip-flop slippers, as I'd expected to be only a few seconds. It was a freezing cold day.

After a heated squabble on the doorstep about whose fault it was that we were locked out, we decided we'd be best channelling our energy into thinking about what to do. We wandered around the house and decided it was burglar-proof. Meanwhile, I was slowly freezing to death. Ian, too, was only wearing a T-shirt, but he belongs to the strange species who go out jogging like that in all weathers, so I figured it was worse for me.

Our neighbours are usually out at work during the day, so what a relief it was to see our neighbour's car. It turned out she was off work sick. A few months ago she would have had our spare key for the back door, but we'd lent it to a workman who had fitted our new kitchen, and never given it back to her. Anyway, we rang a locksmith from her house, who arrived about an hour later.

The locksmith couldn't open our front door, so he had to drill into our back door and then fit a new lock. This cost us £132. Damn it!!!

Christmas is coming

2009-11-15T12:57:00.000-08:00

I'm not a Christmas person. This is something my husband keeps saying about himself, but it does apply to me, too. I really don't like Christmas; the commercialism, the false glitter, the excuses (who needs one anyway?) for over-indulgence. And then there's the wondering what to get people who don't really need anything. They might end up with the 'hideous tie so kindly meant' (quote from a John Betjeman poem, I think).

So here we are again. Stores are already displaying their Christmas wares, and pestering me with the sound of carols. Soon the shops will be too crowded to move in. And let's stick paper hats on the heads of the homeless, the downtrodden, the oppressed, and get them to sing something about dreaming of a white Christmas. White? Oh, no, not snow as well. The car won't start, pavements will turn into ice rinks and I'll slide on my bottom down the steep part of our street. Sod all that. I'd love to hibernate until it's all over.

Bah! Humbug!

What next and what now?

2009-11-06T08:49:00.000-08:00

I'd like to say my absence from blogging for a while has been because I'm working hard on writing my novel. But, unfortunately, I seem to be spending more time trying to decide what to do than actually doing it. I have three unfinished novel manuscripts in my drawer and I can't make my mind up which (if any) of them I should be concentrating on next.

Meanwhile, there is still 'The Dark Threads' to publicise. There's not much point in having a book 'out there' if few people know about it, hence I've been forcing myself to take centre stage and jump through hoops. Here's what I've done so far which, if nothing else, has been a learning experience.

First, I had promotional postcards printed to distribute to anyone who might be remotely interested, depicting my book cover on the front and details about it on the back. I included my phone number on the cards, which (for reasons I'll leave you to ponder) might have been a mistake. Looking back, I suppose I should have first set up a website (my next task), with a means of contacting me through that, to put on the cards. But then, not everyone uses a computer.

I joined a speakers club and practised until I could stand up and talk without looking and sounding like a timid little mouse. It worked. I've done three book-talks so far: one to a university group, the second at a bookshop and the third at a library. OK, three talks aren't many, but more opportunities to talk at libraries will be coming my way soon, I am told. I also did two radio interviews.

Local newspaper reporters interviewed me, and I got extensive coverage in several regional papers. I was interviewed in London for the Sunday Times, but guess what? They lost the interview tape. I've recently been re-interviewed over the phone. Will the feature eventually appear? I do hope so, as I desperately need more national coverage if my book is to sell successfully.

I've written articles for magazines, the latest of which should soon be appearing in the HCPJ (Healthcare, Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal). Dorothy Rowe reviewed my book in Openmind, and on her website (Articles-Openmind-Two Books). I got a good review recently in 'Therapy Today'. However, I need features and reviews in magazines other than just the specialist mental health ones. I'm awaiting the next issue of my favourite literary short story magazine, 'The Yellow Room', with even more eagerness than usual, as it will contain a review of my book.

I contacted Mark Davis, and he has featured me on his increasingly popular High Royds Hospital website (scroll down and click onto 'Dark Threads'). One thing leads to another, and a BBC TV reporter has just emailed me after reading about me on that website and she'll be talking to me shortly; I'm not sure where (if anywhere) that will lead, but watch this space . . .

I have taken part in a BBC TV documentary, funded by the Open University, about the history of mental health care, which will appear on BBC4 early in the New Year. This involved filming me as I wandered the grounds of the now closed-down hospital on a bleak, blustery evening, looking pensive as I remembered the horrible time I spent there back in the sixties and seventies. I'd been hanging around in the 'gives-me-the-creeps' derelict hospital grounds for ages waiting for the filming to start. I was cold and hungry and wanted my tea, so when they told me not to smile on camera, that was dead easy! Three of the pics taken are on the hospital website (click into 'Blakeways Productions' and then scroll down to click the thumbnails on the left).

The following day the documentary crew filmed and interviewed me at a house in Ilkley. I got hit in the face with the edge of a box (as you do) the night before, leaving an ugly scar on my face (I'd been trying to reach for a box on top of the wardrobe). I arrived late (got well and truly lost on the way) so didn't even have time to comb my hair before starting. My confidence diminished further with all the interruptions during the interview; a noisy lorry outside, fridge-freezer attention seeking, someone's mobile, sunlight in wrong position, my hair sticking up at one side (the camera man informed me about half-way through) and, finally, the house owner's cat repeatedly meowing to come indoors and join in the fun. With all the retakes, I fear I'll either look flustered or bored on film.

Is getting a book published worth it all in the end? Yes, I think so. Well, nothing beats going into Waterstones and Borders and seeing it up there on the shelves.

Writing as therapy

2009-10-15T06:23:00.000-07:00

Writing about painful experiences that have a strong bearing on the author's life may be seen as writing as therapy. People often say that a therapeutic act of writing should be kept private. Whilst I agree that writing purely for therapy is quite different from writing for publication, I do believe that sometimes the raw material of therapeutic writing can be transformed into a creative act and crafted for publication.

When I was young, I kept detailed diaries and, although I didn't see it as such at the time, I suppose what I was doing in them was writing for therapy. As teenagers often do, I pored out my thoughts and feelings, filling my diaries with teenage angst. Writing things down helped me to make sense of what was happening in my life. These diaries were never intended to be made public, and rightly so. They were for my own benefit. It didn't matter that they weren't well-crafted, edited, or proof-read to iron out any grammatical errors or sloppily-written parts. It also didn't matter if the content would bore other people to death. For me, the diaries served their purpose as catharsis.

My diaries also served another purpose later. They helped me to gather together material for my memoir 'The Dark Threads'. Perhaps when I began writing my memoir I was writing it as therapy, but then I decided I wanted to share my experience with others. No longer just writing for myself, I began to write with the aim of publication. It was a tentative dream at first. I knew that the odds of getting it published were stacked against me, but what I aimed to do was write a book to the best of my ability, and aim for a publishable standard.

By the time I'd nearly finished my manuscript, 'misery memoirs' were popular. If, by this term, we mean a sensationalised account that piles misery upon misery, without analytic reflection, then I definitely did not want my book to be categorised as such. It is not a misery memoir, but perhaps I need another posting to discuss this, so I'll leave the topic for later. And no, no, no, it is not ghost-written!

Once I had decided on writing a memoir, truth, of course, remained paramount (truth in memoir will make a good subject for another blog posting at a later date), but now I had to stand back and try to view the quality of my writing objectively. I had to discipline myself, hone my writing skills and work hard to learn and apply the craft of writing, so that I could take my raw material and turn it into something creative, something that would, hopefully, grab hold of and maintain the interest of others: something publishable.

Have I succeeded? Well, I did succeed in getting published. Others are actually paying to read my book! I went into Waterstones and Borders the other day, and there it was on the shelf. But have I succeeded in writing a book that others, people who don't know me, will find worth their while paying for and reading? That has to be left up to readers to decide.

My book is reviewed in the latest edition of 'Therapy Today', along with two novels about patients in psychiatric hospitals: 'The Secret Scripture' by Sebastian Barry, and 'House of Bread' by Amanda Nicol. The reviewer describes me as 'a powerful representative of that disenfranchised group - psychiatric survivors. But what about the silenced? What about their stories? We, and they, must hope that Davison will continue to use her compassion and talent to tell their stories too.' I like reading nice things about me like this (of course I do), though I don't really see myself as a spokesperson. I would much prefer that people were empowered to tell their own stories than have someone speak for them, though I know that, for many people who were silenced by the mental health system, speaking for themselves is sometimes, sadly, never going to be possible.

The review in 'Therapy Today' concludes with words that are relevant to what I've been discussing in this posting. If I have done what the reviewer says in the last two sentences, then I am well satisfied that I have achieved my aim for my memoir: 'The characters in "The Secret Scripture" find writing therapeutic; the telling of their stories is the restoration of narratives ruptured by their histories. The authors of "House of Bread" and "The Dark Threads" also restore the ruptured narratives of their lives in the writing of these books, making them therapeutic acts. But these are also works skilfully crafted from the raw material of personal experience and stand as books in their own right. These three books demonstrate that writing is both a therapeutic and a creative act.'

Do as I say . . .

2009-10-02T01:55:00.000-07:00

I've just read something that tickled me and thought I'd share it:

20 RULES FOR WRITERS

1. About those sentence fragments.
2. Always pick on the correct idiom.
3. And avoid all asinine alliteration.
4. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
5. Avoice cliches like the plague.
6. Between you and I, case is important.
7. Correct spelling is esential.
8. Do not put statements in the negative form.
9. Don't overuse exclamation marks!!
10. Don't use commas, which aren't necessary.
11. Don't use no double negatives.
12. It's important to use apostrophe's correctly.
13. Never use a preposition to end a sentence with.
14. Proofread carefully to see if you words out.
15. Remember to never split an infinitive.
16. Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixing metaphors.
17. The adverb always follows the verb.
18. The passive voice should never be used.
19. Verbs has to agree with their subjects.
20. Writing carefully, dangling participles must be avoided.

WILLIAM SAFIRE (Journalist, speechwriter for Pres. Richard Nixon and author of Before the Fall: An Inside View of the Pre-Watergate White House, 1975), drawn from several sources. Safire died 27th September at 79.

Catching Up Day

2009-09-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

I've got a day 'free' today to catch up on things, but it's already midday and what have I done so far? I' m still in my dressing gown. I've checked my emails several times (must be due for an interesting one), messed about browsing facebook, and looked at my book page on Amazon to see if anyone has reviewed 'The Dark Threads' on there (hey, yes, I've got two reviews now).

I've done no writing this week, except writing a long letter to a friend last night. I did a talk at the speakers club on Monday about writing tools and how they've changed over the years. It seems easier to talk about them than use one at the moment.

Oh well, I'm going to stop beating myself up for being lazy. I was busy last week and it looks like I'll be busy next week. I'll make today as relaxing as I please. Big decision to make now. Shall I get dressed before or after I get something to eat?

Bookshop Talk

2009-09-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

I did my first bookshop talk last night. It was at the Saltaire Bookshop, an independent bookshop. At first I was worried at the thought that maybe nobody would turn up. I'd been on Radio Leeds earlier in the day, where I'd been allowed to advertise my talk at the end of the interview, plus publicity material had gone out in the local paper and other locations. But still (typical unconfident me) thought that nobody would want to bother coming.

As it happened, the place was packed! By the time half-past six came and I was about to begin, there was no room for everyone to sit down. My fears that nobody would come had quickly turned into, Eeeek! There are PEOPLE! I was bothered about the ones at the back who couldn't sit down and possibly couldn't hear me properly, though I did try to keep speaking loud enough, particularly as they had all paid £2.50 for a ticket (included glass of wine and entry to raffle).

I had from 6.30 - 8.00 in which to 'do as you want'. I tried to get a good balance of talking and reading for the first part of the evening, then we had a break (sold lots of books!) and then we had questions and discussion. There was a good mix in the audience of mental health workers, service users, and people just interested in books and perhaps wanting a 'general' read of a human interest story. I tried to make my points without being 'preachy' and to include things that would hopefully interest everyone.

The best thing for me was that once I got started, I stopped feeling nervous and I really enjoyed it. Perhaps this was largely due to the practises at giving talks I've had at my local speakers club.

Back to blogging.

2009-09-04T01:57:00.000-07:00

Things have been hectic, and I didn't realise how long it is that I've been neglecting my blog. The distribution problem seems sorted now. Highlight of my week was going into Borders and seeing two copies of 'The Dark Threads' on the shelf in their Biography section. The manager said all branches of Borders nationwide have got at least two copies! Waterstones lagged behind, but I think it's available in most of their branches now. Amazon uk are about to get some more stock.

Local publicity has been good, with much more interest than I expected from local papers and radio. I think it's because there's a lot of interest just now in High Royds, the hospital that I was in, which has now closed down along with the other Victorian-built institutions.

I've got two talks/readings arranged so far: Saltaire bookshop next Thursday, and Guiseley Library on 22nd October. Next week a BBC TV documentary producer is coming to see me about a documentary he's making on mental health care in the UK from the fifties onward. In and among all this, I'm busy at work interviewing new volunteers for the next lot of training sessions which will be starting soon. It's all go-go-go!

And when am I going to find time for what I really want to do? I want to sit alone in my 'office' (a corner of the living room with my computer on a desk) and get on with my writing. I don't want to write about mental health either (that's done now). I want to resume my novel, and perhaps have a go at writing short stories. I'm not even sure that I want to bother trying to get anything else published, at least that's how I feel right now. I just want to WRITE. It's funny how the less time I've got to write in, the more I want to do it, but when I've got plenty of time I'm a lazy sod.

How? When? Where?

2009-08-12T02:44:00.000-07:00

I don't understand this bookselling stuff. My publication date was two days ago. I thought everything was on track when last Thursday I received the small stock of my book which I'd ordered. Great! But, then...

On Monday, the publication date, sites such as Amazon continued to say it had not been released. But, OK, perhaps it takes time for them to get their web page updated.

Meanwhile, I continued to work hard getting the word out about my book to anyone I could think of who might be remotely interested.

On Tuesday, I found out from friends that Amazon.co.uk are emailing customers to say that they don't know when my book will be in stock and offering to let them cancel if they wish. Eeeek!!! I also found customers I'd directed to buy from bookshops were getting different and conflicting info from different bookshops. I looked up on the website of Betrams wholesalers and found they'd got 'nil' stock and had moved the delivery date of stock on to end of August (???) .

Of course I got onto my publishers in a panic. They said they'd chased up their distributors, Macmillan, who had released the stock to their customers 'today' (that was yesterday). They said that, therefore, Amazon have no reason to be telling customers to cancel as their orders are being processed. Also, Bertrams get their stock from Macmillans, so they should have the books now.

Today Amazon and other online bookselling sites still show my book as 'not yet released'. (Oh, but it is. It is). I get great pleasure holding my book in my hand, but what good is that if potential customers can't get it? Hopefully, these hiccups will clear up in the next day or two (or preferably in the next hour or two). It's so exciting getting a book published, but it's also so damn frustrating every single step of the way.

Interviews

2009-08-08T08:32:00.000-07:00

The telephone interview with the local paper went well on the whole. Only thing I'd fault them with is the emphasis on courage. I'm sure I didn't say those last eight words. I do NOT believe that others who remain in the system have less courage than me. But, anyway, think it's OK overall. You can read the web version here.

Got two more interviews next week. Scary!

Tomorrow it's August!

2009-07-31T14:46:00.000-07:00

How can time pass so quickly? How can it be almost August when it seems no time since the start of the year? When my publication date was moved from February to August, it seemed ages away. And now there's just over a week to go! I can't wait to see the finalised version of the book. But I'm scared I'll find things that I missed, despite all the careful checking and re-checking I've done.

The owners of my local independent bookshop are being really encouraging and supportive. I'm looking forward to doing a talk/reading there. Like all indie bookshops, they're struggling to keep afloat. In future when I want to buy a book I'm going to first see if I can get it from them, even if it costs a bit more than from the chains or amazon. I hate the thought of wonderful, indie bookshops going out of business.

I've got two interviews for local papers coming up next week; one will be over the telephone. For some reason, it's the telephone one I feel more nervous about. Maybe it's something to do with the lack of body language. But I'm used to talking on a phone in my job as I work on a mental health telephone helpline. I can't figure out why the thought of giving an interview over the phone makes me feel more vulnerable than a face-to-face interview.

Flapping my flippers

2009-07-15T01:34:00.000-07:00

I did make an attempt to keep up to a daily word count, but work-in-progress is back on hold again. I'm much too busy and excited about being less than four weeks away from publication of 'The Dark Threads'. I'm getting silly and going on to amazon.co.uk every two minutes to check my amazon ranking for pre-publication sales (figures which probably don't mean a thing).

I went to hear Clare Allan talk at the Hull Literature Festival. I don't think I could give as good a talk as she did.

I've just been doing the final check on the proofs before my book goes for printing. My article has appeared in Openmind, the national mental health magazine of Mind, and also a review by Dorothy Rowe in that issue. The Sunday Times will be running the feature soon from my interview with them. Meanwhile, my publishers are trying to get more national coverage. In a couple of weeks I've got an interview with a local paper. I need to sort out about doing some talks.

It's all go at the moment. I feel I've got too much to do and not enough time to do it. (So why, then, do I still keep messing about on facebook?).

An elderly friend tells me how in the past, authors weren't expected to do anything in the way of book promotion. It was their job to just write. How wonderful! Now it seems (as I remember once reading on Lorna's Literascribe blog) that authors are expected to "flap their flippers and balance a ball on their nose." Ooops! There goes my ball again.

Procrastinating

2009-06-25T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not getting on with writing. Why? I suppose the truthful answer is I'm too lazy to be a PROPER writer. I don't keep up to doing a daily word count. I write loads when I feel like it. But what about the days when I don't? Often it takes me ages to get started. I sit at the computer, full of good intentions, but then I decide that first I'll check my emails, and then I start browsing facebook and reading blogs, then check my emails again. Hey, does writing this blog go towards my word count? But then, I've not even been keeping up to writing my blog lately.

For a long time I blamed my small daily writing output on having to go out to work. It wasn't my fault if I didn't get much writing done. I didn't have the time. What I can't understand is that now I only work part-time, and in theory I have much more time for writing, I do even less than when I worked full-time.

Anyway, enough of this moping. It's all got to change. Yesterday I went to an event at the Hull Literature Festival. Listening to author Clare Allan has fired me up with enthusiasm. I'm going to set myself a daily word count target (not yet decided what that will be), stop making excuses and just get on with it.

A Special Day

2009-06-15T01:33:00.001-07:00

It's our Silver Wedding Anniversary today and I'm feeling all slushily sentimental and lovey dovey.

Catching Up

2009-06-08T02:53:00.000-07:00

I'm behind with everything and doing a juggling act trying to catch up. I've been having those sort of days where you feel you're working hard, but end up wondering where the result is.

I started looking at my novel-in-'progress pending', in an attempt to get back on with it, but I soon got distracted with copy-editing 'The Dark Threads'. Again! Yes, I thought the copy-editing was long finished, as it's been 'done' both by myself and a good copy-editor. Needless to say, my 'one last look' showed up a few more things that needed amending in my book. So I decided I'd better read it again carefully from beginning to end (I'll be able to say every word on all 350 pages off by heart soon!).

I enjoyed going to London to be interviewed for the Sunday Times. There was an initial panic when I found at the last minute my train had been cancelled, but, thanks to mobiles, I was able to rearrange the appointment to half-an-hour later and catch the next train.

I was prepared for the questions. But still ... 'How long did it take you to write the book?' This was one I'd been dreading as there's no straightforward answer. The writing of it has been 'on and off' over many years. I started writing it forty years (!) ago when I wrote on scraps of toilet paper sitting on the floor with my feet up to chest, knees against the pot, and holding the door shut with my back, in the hospital. OK, I suppose that was writing 'purely for therapy', which isn't the same as writing to be published. I never intended anyone else to see my writing then, but it did turn out to be a gathering together of the material for my book.

I asked myself, when did I decide I wanted to share my experiences and actually write a book about them? Would it be sufficiently interesting to others? Might it do some good (oh, sorry if that sounds 'up my backside', but it was one of my hopes)? As well as just a 'human interest story' I felt I had something to say that needed to be said, but I didn't want to come over all 'preachy' (which I don't think I have). There were a lot of questions I needed to ask myself about my motives for writing this kind of book, but, meanwhile, I just got on with it, feeling I simply had to write it. I mean, I've always been interested in writing, but whenever I wrote anything else, this kept intruding. Perhaps soon, at last, I'll be able to concentrate fully on trying to write other books on other subjects. I hope so. I don't want to be able to sing from only one sheet.

Anyway, I divert. On the whole I think my interview in London went well. Afterwards I wandered around until my bunions (old age creeping on) made me stand in the middle of a street, unable to go any further. I managed to hobble into the bookstore that was only a few yards away and I recovered over a cup of coffee, with my shoes off under the table. Well, I never thought when I began this blog that I'd even be bringing my boring old bunions into it! I don't go on like this in my book - honest I don't!

Getting there

2009-05-14T03:04:00.000-07:00

Just found out from the President of our local branch of the Association of Speakers Clubs that I've been awarded the annual 'Most Improved Speaker of the Year' Award. It will be presented to me at a meeting on 22nd June. I've had problems all my life with shyness, so getting an award for (of all things!) Public Speaking is ... well, I'm speechless!

On the book promotion front, things are starting to take off now that some advance copies have been sent out. I'm going to London on 2nd June to be interviewed by a Sunday Times editor who read my book. I've also got some encouraging endorsements. The psychologist and writer, Dorothy Rowe, requested a copy, liked it, and now she has written about my book in her article for the next issue of Openmind magazine. Other things are in the pipeline. It does make me realise that if my book had come out in February, as originally planned, there would have been little publicity in place for it. I was so disappointed at the time when the release date was postponed, but now I feel it has definitely been for the best.

That's often the way with disappointments, isn't it? What we feel at the time is a bad thing sometimes turns out to be good in the end, so perhaps we should always be optimistic and look upon our disappointments as exciting possibilities for better things in the future. (OK, get off your soapbox, Jean. I'll probably remember these philosophical musings the next time I get a kick in the teeth, and think Grrrrr!).

Not much happening

2009-05-05T06:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I had intended to report back on the Society of Authors Spring Meeting in Liverpool, but, before lazybones me got round to it, someone bet me to it and has done a good job of it. So, if anyone is interested, you can go over to Helen P's blog and scroll down to her 27th April posting.

This was my first SOA meeting and I was pleasantly surprised at how approachable and friendly everyone was. It was also my first time in Liverpool and I wish I'd given myself more time to stroll around after the meeting before I had to head for the train.

Publishers look at blogs, we were told at the meeting. Oh dear, I'll have to do better with mine than what I've been doing lately. Speaking of which, I can't tell how many (if anyone) looks at mine now since it seems the Google counter has been changed to only go up in tens. All I know is that less than ten people looked in the past week (no, less than eight, because I looked twice). Come to think of it, I don't suppose the title of this post is exactly right for enticing anyone to take a look, but I'm blowed if I can think of another just now.

I'm trying to get back to writing a novel that I started some time ago. I'd got the first rough draft finished before putting it aside. Now that I'm looking at it with fresh eyes I'm not happy with what I see. I knew it would need a lot of work doing on it, but now I'm wondering whether to scrap the lot and start afresh with something new. I've found before that putting a manuscript aside for a while is a big help in seeing what needs doing. But trouble with this one is I put it aside not just for a couple of weeks but for nearly a year! That's far too long. It's going to be very hard to get back into it now.

Meanwhile, as I'm trying to decide what to do, I'm not doing much at all. Realising I hadn't blogged for over a week made me spring into action. Ah, yes, said I, I'll blog from my notes to report back on the meeting, but first I'll just see what others are blogging about ...

I'm sitting here feeling cross with myself for being so wishy-washy, and I'm getting fat. Think I'll have a date & walnut flapjack to cheer me up and renew my energy. And then you won't see me for the sparks flying from my fingers.

An Enjoyable Week

2009-04-24T07:15:00.000-07:00

Moans over, I'm really enjoying this week. It started off well when I met an old friend I hadn't seen for over 30 years (thanks to Friends Reunited). What a lot of catching-up talking we had to do!

Last night I went to a talk/reading at Waterstones to meet another Accent Press author, Kevin Chandler. His novel 'Listening In' has just come out. He did a really good talk, followed by interesting discussion. It was lovely to meet him.

Today my Yellow Room mag arrived in the post. I can't wait to curl up in front of the fire with a G & T to read it.

I'm looking forward to going to the SOA Authors North Spring Meeting in Liverpool tomorrow. Booking my train tickets online came close to spoiling my good mood (contradictory info about times and availability), but I think it's OK now.

On Monday it's my Speaker Club meeting, and I'm (almost!) getting confident enough to start enjoying these sessions. The editor of 'The Speaker' magazine emailed me a copy of my article as it will appear in the September issue, and I'm even pleased with my photo which they want to include.

And then on Tuesday I'll be back at work but (hey, aren't I lucky?) I love my job.

An annoying week

2009-04-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

I've had an annoying week. First, I found I'd become unable to receive emails. Senders were getting a 'Delivery Failure' message. How did we manage in pre-email days? For some reason, not being able to receive emails really got to me. I mean, I might've been missing some really important ones, like the acceptances I'm waiting for about my articles/proposals sent to magazines. And then wot about emails from people telling me how much they like my book? The advance review copies have now been printed and (I think) already sent out to a few people, so I'm on those hook things called tenters. My publishers will be taking some (my books, not my tenterhooks) to the London Book Fair.

Anyway, back to my moans. I suddenly got a 'thing' in my eye that looked like a spider dangling from my eyelash, but no spider was to be seen. Now I am left with a big black floater prancing about in front of everything I look at. The optometrist who did various eye health checks can't find anything serious, and he explained that I will just have to put up with the floater. Yes, but it's driving me mad flitting back and forth across the page when I'm reading or writing. I've had floaters before but not a nasty big black one like this thing. I'm told that after a few months my brain will stop registering it and then it won't keep annoying me. Well, what do you know? Clever thing, your brain, isn't it? But a few months?

I'd better stop writing this blog post while I'm in such a crabby mood, or I'll be churning out a long list of my recent annoyances. Maybe I'll feel better when it stops raining.

Friends Reunited

2009-03-31T15:45:00.000-07:00

It's weird, isn't it? Old friends suddenly poke out at you from the internet. People you haven't seen since when you 'were young, oh, so much younger than today.' (Is that plagiarism?). We were best friends (on and off, that is. We squabbled a lot) at junior school. She's back in this area for a while, and we're going to meet next week.

I'm looking forward to our meeting with interest, and (I don't know why) a kinda scared feeling. Ah, the joys of technology, and that Friends Reunited site.

Her email began, 'Do you remember me?' Yes, I do. (Oh God, she doesn't appear in my memoir, does she?).

Threads

2009-03-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

I looked up 'The Dark Threads' on Amazon.co.uk and had to smile to note the list of other items which Amazon tells us that purchasers of my book might be interested in. These were about sewing machines and sewing threads! Just out of interest I looked up 'Of Human Bondage'. But, no, they haven't linked Somerset Maughan's novel with erotica books.

Well, I'm going to set to work today and write some more magazine articles that might help (at least indirectly) in publicising my memoir. The editor of the 'Healthcare Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal' phoned me to say they are going to publish my article. I'm now going to write a piece for 'The Speaker', the national magazine of the Association of Speakers Clubs, about my experiences of joining my local club. Meanwhile, I'm waiting to hear if Mslexia have accepted my 'How I did it' piece, and I'm wondering which other magazines to try.

I've had more success at getting non-fiction published than fiction. This worries me slightly as I wannabe a fiction writer and maybe I'm not good enough at that. Oh well, I can but try. Once I've finished the magazine articles I'm going to retrieve my novel-in-progress (what progress?) from the junk cupboard and see if I can get back into it (the novel I mean, not the junk cupboard).

Catching Up

2009-03-14T04:54:00.000-07:00

I seem to have got behind with everything, including my blog, but in a recent spurt of busyness I'm almost back on track.

On the writing front, not much has been happening, at least not with the stories I intended to write and the novel I intended to get back to working on. I've written an article for the 'Healthcare Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal' which is being 'considered'. I've now got to get on with the 'monthly' newsletter I write for the charity where I work, which didn't appear in February and it looks like the March issue is going to be a March/April one.

On the reading front, (erm, does reading other people's lovely blogs count? Yes, why not?). I've followed with interest the discussion about criticism from Sally Zigmond and Jo Derrick. Yes, criticism may not always be quite what we're wanting to hear about our darling babies, but I agree that we can learn such a lot from honest and constructive criticism. It can be confusing though, with one person seeing things one way and another seeing it quite the opposite. I suppose what we've got to do is try hard to stand back and decide if a particular piece of criticism makes us feel we should do some re-writing taking it into account.

Still on the subject of criticism, I once got an appraisal from a (well-known and highly respected) literary consultancy which did absolutely nothing but praise my writing! I was mad as hell. Why? Because I was not naive enough to think that my 100 pages of writing was so good that there was nothing wrong with it, and I had paid for the critique so that I could work on improving it. I complained to the consultancy and they said in all their years of business they'd had lots of complaints from people who weren't happy about the person doing the critique not seeing the writing as being as good as the writer felt it was. But never before, not once, had anyone ever complained about too much praise for their writing. (Yes, but...). I have since mellowed towards the person who did the critique as it later seemed to prove very helpful in getting me a foot in the door with publishers and persuading them to at least ask for the full manuscript. But I still feel sure that another person would have given me a much more critical critique that could have helped me focus on the (many) areas where there was a lot of room for improvement.

On the public speaking front, I'm still 'getting there'. I was invited to give a talk to The Mind Matters Society, which has been set up at Uni to raise mental health awareness. We went first to see the play 'The Hounding of David Oluwale', the true story about a Nigerian immigrant who spent time in the sixties in High Royds mental institution, where apparently he was treated horrendously. Eventually, as a homeless person, he was hounded to death by two local police officers. After the play we went to a room that Dom, the president of the Society, had hired, and I was Guest Speaker. Who, me? It was probably thanks to my gut-churning, teeth-pulling practising at the speakers club that this went really well. Afterwards we had interesting discussion. At the end of the evening Dom presented me with a big bouquet on behalf of the group. Oooh, wasn't that lovely of them?

On the publishing front, things are moving now. The advance review copies are in the process of being printed. I've been contacting editors of mental health magazines, and a few others, to see who might do a review of my book or give comments that can be used for quotes. I'm putting together a list of those who request a copy, which I'll give to my publisher for them to add to their list and send out. This seems to be going well so far.

As you might have guessed, some of this blog posting is rather self-indulgent as maybe what I'm trying to do is convince myself that I haven't been as lazy of late as what I think (know) I have been. And now I've written a long one to make up for missing postings, so I'll give myself another pat on the back. Time now to get out of my dressing gown and put some clothes on before the rest of the (ahem) afternoon disappears.

Got a virus (me, not computer)

2009-02-24T12:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday would have been my Book Publication Date. Perhaps it's a good job it wasn't, as I've been ill for the past few days with a flu-type virus. I wouldn't have felt a bit like celebrating.

I'm having a short break from blogging until I feel better.

NORMAL SERVICE WILL BE RESUMED AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Speaking of which, does anyone remember when telly programmes used to keep being interrupted with those words? (Now I'm really showing my age).

Snow fun anymore

2009-02-16T05:14:00.000-08:00

I must be getting old. Snow is no fun anymore. As a child I always looked forward to the snow coming. It meant great fun sledging, snowballing, making slides and building snowmen. But now it means feeling cold, trying to buy boots and shoes with good grips on the soles (sod fashion) and inching my way along icy pavements.

Last week I slid down part of our steep street on my backside (not intentionally). A dog barking and children laughing at me added to my humiliation. I don't want to wish my life away, but, oh, how I'm looking forward to summer.

So now it's official. I've said it. Grumpy old woman I may fast be becoming, but I DON'T LIKE SNOW!

Past and Present

2009-02-07T12:10:00.000-08:00

I've been plodding on with the depressing task of telling people that my book publication date has been put back to August. I'm still receiving letters, mainly from those who got my flyer with their Christmas card, telling me they'll buy my book in February. I do hope they'll still be interested in it by August.

More time has caused me to do more tinkering with the manuscript. I've just sent my publisher what I now think (hope) are the final editing changes. The problem with editing is that it could go on for ever. But at some stage we have to say, STOP! Otherwise, we risk spoiling, instead of improving, our work. It's difficult sometimes knowing just when to stop.

I've been speaking to Mark today, a local photographer and historian, who set up a website detailing the history of the hospital where I was a patient (High Royds, formerly the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum). Interest in his website has snowballed, attracting a quarter of a million picture hits from all over the world. It's a massive site, full of fascinating details for anyone interested in the history of psychiatry, architecture, and/or human interest stories. It is well worth taking a look at: www.highroydshospital.co.uk

What memories the site brings back. I found Derek Hutchinson's story of undergoing horrendous experimental brain surgery. I remember he was a patient, a friendly young man, at the day hospital the same time as I was there in the early-seventies. His operation took place shortly after I left. It reminds me of how I'm one of the lucky ones.

I must hasten to add that my book isn't all misery. There's a lot of humour in it, too. Even in such a place as that institution, there were uplifting incidents and humour. I've tried to be balanced and fair to staff and patients. But I'm glad these institutions have closed down. I'm also glad that many people are working to bring about a change in attitudes rather than just a change from one setting to another.

Onwards and Upwards

2009-01-28T11:20:00.000-08:00

Now that I've had more time to get used to the disappointment of the publication date being put back to August, it doesn't seem as bad as it did. I feared that my publishers might have been trying to tell me gently that my book might not be published at all. But, after a phone conversation with them today, I find they are currently working at getting advance copies ready, and so on. It seems that not having some 'book form' copies ready to send out was hindering getting the necessary publicity. They feel that, with the extra time, they can take up more marketing opportunities.

Meanwhile, I'll use the extra time to promote my 'book-to-be' in any way I can. I mustn't just sit back and think, well, August is ages away. Since reaching the age of 21 (many moons ago) I've sometimes found that I've just blinked a few times, and months - even years - have whizzed by.

And maybe when I've put myself through the ritual humiliation of doing talks at my speakers club for another few months, I'll be brim-full of self-confidence by the time my book is launched. Last night I stood bravely in front of a room full of people and struggled through an impromptu talk on 'Would you like to be given a gift of stationery?' The previous week, my longer, planned talk called 'Washing Mice' (don't ask) seemed to go down well. My theory is that if I keep putting myself through this, I will, in time, come to enjoy public speaking more than I would enjoy pulling my teeth out with pliers.

Back to my book. I thought I'd finished all the editing, and now it is being suggested that I expand a section. I won't reject this suggestion out of hand (nor will I stick pins in an image of the editor who suggested it), but I'm not sure it's a good idea to do further 'tinkering' at this stage. I wonder: when does editing stop improving a manuscript and start spoiling it?

So that's it. It seems all is not lost. Onwards and upwards.

Ouch!

2009-01-21T02:51:00.000-08:00

I've just had a phone call from my publishers to say that publication date of 'The Dark Threads' is to be postponed until (wait for it) August! It seems that in the current economic climate and the 'doom and gloom' in the publishing world, they don't feel that now is the best time to publish it. I can't say more at the moment as I'm still reeling from the blow. Nothing more to say anyway, I suppose.

There's no point me weeping and wailing (says she stoically) as there's nothing I can do about it. I'll just have to brush the dust off my novel and get on with that. (Oh, sod it, pass the tissues, please).

Not getting on with it.

2009-01-16T03:44:00.000-08:00

Well, despite the good intentions I always start off a new year with, I don't seem to be doing enough to fulfil my aims. I'm brilliant at writing out 'Things To Do' lists, planning, dreaming, hoping, but I sometimes fall short on the most important task: actually 'doing'.

I've now left it too late to write a story for the Mslexia competition. My existing ones are far too long. In fact it's occurred to me that I've written very little for quite some time. My novel-in-progress is asleep in a drawer, growing whiskers.

I blame my diminishing writing output on my excitement about 'The Dark Threads' coming out next month. I've been so taken up with thoughts of publication, along with trying to help with publicity, that my writing has taken a back seat. Not good. I wannabe a writer. Writers must write.

I'm going to write stories, get on with my novel, and ... Oh dear, here I go again. If I stop blogging about what I'm going to do and tell you what I've actually done, I hope I will have something to blog about soon!

Proofs

2009-01-05T02:31:00.000-08:00

It's arrived! The typeset copy of 'The Dark Threads'. Ooh, it's exciting. Now I can visualise it as a PROPER book. I've got a week to proof-read it once more, and then off it goes to my publishers. And we're nearly there.

I'm back in panic mode (more than ever!). I didn't seek cover quotes earlier as there was no 'reading' copy ready to send. But now my publishers have emailed asking me if I've had any success getting quotes for my book jacket, telling me they need them urgently (next week!) and that they can send a PDF file of the final ms to me if they want to see it.

I'm thrilled to receive my typeset manuscript and I can't wait to hold my book in my hands. But ... (Well, yes, there's always a 'but', isn't there?).

Boxing Day

2008-12-26T06:02:00.000-08:00

Among our Christmas presents, Ian and I received a vegan cookbook, and an apron each. This is a gift from a friend who loves cooking and no doubt thinks (rightly) that we need a bit of encouragement. I'm a vegetarian and Ian is a vegan. But that's not the problem. The problem is that I'm a lazy sod when it comes to cooking.

When I first went veggie, I immediately bought a wonderful cookbook called 'The Junk Food Vegetarian' - start as you mean to go on. Years later and bored with the 'mix a can of this with a can of that' recipes, I began talking about doing some 'proper' cooking, and trying to convince Ian that it would be a 'fun thing' for us to do together. (Actually, Ian is better at cooking than I am, and not half as bone idle, but there's plenty of scope for improvement in both of us).

Now, will this lovely new cookbook join the others on our bookshelves that sit there and do bugger all to earn their keep? (er, well, maybe I expect a little too much of the books - they're not trained to do the cooking for us). No! My new year's resolution is: 'STOP TALKING ABOUT IT AND JUST GET ON WITH IT.' That could apply to so many areas of my life, including my writing. But one thing at once. I'm going to put on my bright-red apron with the tomato image across my bosom, and I'll 'make' Ian put on his bright-green apron with the 'what d'ya call it?' a pepper I think, on the front. And we're going to cook.

On a more analytical note, I'm wondering why I hate cooking when I love eating. Hey, I think I've just figured it out. My old school cookery teacher is to blame! I remember my first attempt at making a casserole in a cookery class at school when I was thirteen. It was for an end-of-term exam, so the teacher had to taste it. I was proud of my offering, and it looked delicious. My teacher swallowed a spoonful and, oh God, I thought I'd poisoned her! She screwed up her face, made strange noises and looked ready to puke. The only clue I got later as to where I'd gone wrong was when she hissed: 'Ugh! It's greasy!' (I think it might have been because the copious amount of fat I'd fried the onions in ended up in the dish). Anyway, the whole class stared in shocked silence and then broke into laughter. Guess who came bottom in the exam.

But, over forty years on, all grown up now and undaunted by past humiliations, I'll don my apron and show 'em all. Not just yet though. Let's have another sherry and get boxing day over first.

Nearly Christmas

2008-12-18T10:23:00.000-08:00

The run-up to Christmas seems often to be a time when things go wrong for me or my family. My dear mother-in-law, a lovely woman, aged 91, has fallen and broken her hip and shoulder. She underwent an operation yesterday; a worry in itself at her age.

I will probably not be blogging again until after Christmas. So, if anyone happens to be reading this:

HAVE A LOVELY CHRISTMAS, AND A GREAT NEW YEAR 2009.

Publicity

2008-12-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

I'm getting into a flap thinking that there must be things (what things?) I should be doing (or should have already done) to help with publicity of The Dark Threads. It's due out on 23rd February. Only now am I realising that date is not far away!

The proofreading still needs finishing. I should receive the manuscript back from my publishers this Friday for me to do my final check before it goes for typesetting in January. January? I wonder how that leaves enough time for review copies to be sent out.

I'm naive about all this and I hope I'm worrying unnecessarily, but something is pushing my panic button.

Scribbler

2008-12-04T13:50:00.000-08:00

This blog award was kindly passed on to me by Karen. Thanks Karen. I'll have a think about who to pass it on to. Being eager to post it onto my blog has at last made me learn how to upload images, something I wasn't able to do before.

Taking stock

2008-12-03T07:03:00.000-08:00

I've just found out I reached the Final Round (though no further) in the Legend Writing Award. In the past I've been on the shortlist in 'Real Writers' twice, and got through to the final selection for Mslexia's 'New Writing' section. I've never won a short story competition (though to be fair to myself, I've only entered a few), but my tiny blips at the edge of the radar encourage me to write more stories, work hard at improving them, and enter competitions.

I'm taking stock of where I'm at with my writing, where I want to go, and what I might realistically achieve (ah, the latter is uncertain, but I'll get nowhere if I don't try). My main aim for the new year is to get down to finishing my novel, but I'm also going to work on my short stories.

So there it is. Today I'm fired up with enthusiasm for writing. All I have to do now is stop thinking, talking and blogging about it. Just get on with it!

Public Speaking

2008-11-28T11:36:00.000-08:00

Guess what? I've been presented with a trophy for public speaking!!!! OK, it was only a 3-minute talk at my local speakers club, and I'm sure they took into account that I'm new to the club and inexperienced at public speaking. But, nonetheless, it was an ACHIEVEMENT for me, so I'm damn well going to be proud of it. I hold it for two weeks and then it will be passed on to the next winner.

At every meeting we each have to do a short talk on a topic we're given 'on the spot'. The trophy (a lovely sculptured figurine of a young woman reading a book) is awarded for the 'best talk'. Standing at the front of a room full of people and 'thinking on my feet' to give a totally unprepared talk takes me way out of my comfort zone. It's strange though. Sometimes, as happened this time, once I get going I feel like a different person. I become someone much more confident, someone who enjoys standing there and speaking out. Perhaps I'm really a secret exhibitionist at heart.

I was going to complete this 'blowing own trumpet' post (not that I'm a show-off) by including a photo of the trophy. But I still haven't figured out how to upload photos onto my blog. I size down the pixels, click on the picture icon, search for location... Nothing happens. Is there an easy way to do it, suitable for dimwits?

Morning Pages

2008-11-23T05:38:00.000-08:00

A couple of years ago, influenced by Julia Cameron's 'The Artist's Way', I bought a big spiral notepad, named it 'Morning Pages', and off I went. Over several months I wrote three pages (A4 in longhand) every morning about anything that came into my head. The content didn't matter, the standard of writing didn't matter, I just wrote. Even when I hadn't a clue what to write about I managed to keep the pen moving. Words came tumbling out. Proving what? That my mind is always brimful of clutter? Maybe I should have renamed my spiral notepad 'The Art of Writing Rubbish'. I grew cynical, thought 'What's the point?' and stopped doing them.

Are Morning Pages a useful creative tool, or a waste of time? I still don't know, but I'm going to start them again. Feeling free to write anything without the inner censor getting chance of a look-in, appeals to me now. I want to get back to writing my novel but I stare at blank paper, thinking 'I can't do it'. Of course, aiming for a high standard of writing and being ruthlessly self-critical is fine at the editing stage, but there needs to be something there on the paper to edit. Could doing Morning Pages help to unblock my creativity?

I'm wondering who else does Morning Pages. Do you think they are a useful exercise?

What's it about?

2008-11-13T06:40:00.000-08:00

Once people get an inkling that I've written a book and it's going to be published, some naturally ask, 'What's it about?' Shouldn't this be the question I'm hoping for? I mean, even if they're only asking to be polite and don't really give a damn, it's an opportunity to grab their attention. If I can tell them what it's about in a way that captures their curiosity, maybe they'll buy it. Why then do I dread that question? How am I going to promote my book, for heaven's sake, if I don't stop curling up in embarrassment when asked about it?

Oh, it would be so much easier for me if my 'first book' was something topical and reasonably non-controversial, humorous perhaps, a novel, a children's book, or just about, well, anything else. And then I wouldn't have to explain, 'It's about me. A memoir.' I try to sound confident as I say this, try to put aside a lifetime of conditioning that tells me only people with egos as big as the pyramids write memoirs. And then, of course, they might be thinking, 'Oh no, not another misery memoir.' I want to explain that, erm, no, it's not like that. But of course they'd have to read it to judge for themselves.

A short pause, and then the next question. 'Oh, a memoir? Which part of your life is it about?'
'My teenage years mainly. Teens and early-twenties.'
'Anything in particular about your teenage years?'
'Well, it's about other things besides, but, erm, well... ' Here it comes, the conversation stopper. 'I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.'
Silence.
If the questioner isn't looking embarrassed and changing the subject, maybe they want to know more. 'It's about the treatment I received and... and things.'
Now they might be staring at me as if I've got two heads, and perhaps thinking, 'Schizophrenia. That's a split personality, isn't it?' (I've been asked that twice recently and no, no, no, it's not. Where did that idea come from? Films like 'Psycho'?). Worst of all, they might be thinking, 'Eeeek! Would I be safe alone in a room with you?' At this point I'd like to stand up for people who have schizophrenia, help dispel the myths and raise awareness about this distressing condition. But I don't know how it feels to have schizophrenia. I only know how it feels to be perceived and treated as such.
'It was a misdiagnosis.'
A nervous smile. Yeah, well they all say that, don't they?
'A misdiagnosis of schizophrenia? But how... ?' I got this one at the quiz night, and of course it's a reasonable question. 'How did that happen?'
'It's a long story.' I don't know what else to say. Ten people are waiting to get on with the quiz.
'You'll have to read the book,' someone says.
'Let's start the quiz,' I say, smiling and trying to look 'normal'.

Putting off housework

2008-11-09T14:12:00.000-08:00

Even though it's Sunday (shouldn't it be a day of rest?) I'll have to get off my fat bottom soon and declare war on clutter. My living room is a tip and our local vegan/veggie group descends on us tomorrow. Some time towards the end of last December when discussing the next 'Programme of Events' it seemed a good idea to show willing and suggest a quiz night at our place. Not until November though. Aeons away. Forget about it for now.

Ping! A message sneaked into my computer: an invitation via Facebook (yes, the group is on Facebook now) to a quiz night at Ian and Jean's. Panic Stage Two. What's gone wrong with time? Months are whizzing by. So they're coming tomorrow. Here. To sit (Oh God, not enough seats or floor space) in our small (and at present embarrassingly untidy) living room.

Don't get me wrong. It's great having people round. They're a lovely bunch. But I've been neglecting housework even more than usual lately. Ian is going to write out some quiz questions and make a (vegan of course) cheesecake. And me? Well, I'd better stop procrastinating (I like that word), hadn't I? Frame yourself, Jean.

'Frame yourself'. That phrase appeared somewhere in my manuscript and my copy-editor circled it and wrote above it, 'Meaning?' She'd obviously never heard of it. I thought everyone knew what it meant. But I divert . . .

Why can't I be like the people who always have impeccably neat houses, even when visitors drop in unexpectedly? Does an untidy room denote an untidy mind, as my dad used to say (though I don't remember him doing much in the way of housework)?

Even my desk, my sacred place for writing, is usually full of clutter, where papers, books, coasters, a cup with cold coffee dregs in the bottom and (wait for it) a packet of bunion relief pads all vie for space at my elbow. Not now though. I've shifted my stuff from the side of my computer, and it looks so neat and empty. It's unnerving.

Brrrrr!

2008-10-31T13:44:00.000-07:00

Today I needed cheering up. Cold weather, thoughts of winter coming, always makes me fed up. So I re-read the feedback sheets about the talk I did at work last Saturday on 'Psychiatry: a former user's perspective'. I actually liked giving the presentation. My nerves disappeared soon as I got started and it seems to have gone down well. I got a phone call from the publicity officer at my publisher. She wants me to write articles for newspapers and magazines. I might 'lift' some of my talk where appropriate. Well, I can't plagiarise from my own work, can I?

I'm aware I've been neglecting my blog. I'm so busy at the moment. The editing was endless but I packed it in and sent my manuscript back to my publisher when I realised I was doing what Oscar Wilde says in this quote:

'I was working on the proof of one of my poems all morning, and took a comma out. In the afternoon I put it back again.'

I've got a busy day ahead tomorrow, helping with a training class at work. We're going to look at 'Suicide' (oh dear, that'll cheer me up, won't it?). But tonight I've got something good to look forward to. I've received my copy of 'The Yellow Room' magazine, the first issue of a women's literary fiction mag published by Jo Derrick (formerly Jo Good who used to publish and edit QWF). I've missed my QWFs, and I'm looking forward to the same high standard of stories in this new mag. I'm about to curl up in front of the fire to read it. What better way is there to spend a cold autumn evening?

Learning To Talk

2008-10-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

A long time ago, or so it now seems, when I was still flushed with my success of giving a two-minute impromptu talk at my local Speakers Club, I approached my manager at work and volunteered (who? me?) to give a talk at the next training meeting. My talk was arranged for Saturday 25th October, which seemed a comfortable way off. But how time flies. Eeeek!! It's tomorrow.

Anyway, I've prepared it: sorted out my prompt cards, extracts, flip chart, and hand-outs. Today I presented it in front of Ian. The practice went well. It took forty minutes. That's OK as my manager said I've got up to an hour (including time at the end for questions and comments).

The title of my talk is 'Psychiatry: a former user's perspective.' Watch this space.

My Book Cover

2008-10-21T09:34:00.001-07:00

My book cover shows teenage mini-skirted me. That's how I looked in 1968 at the start of my psychiatric treatment which lasted five years. I'm really pleased with the cover, but... Now I find that when I proudly show it around, I often get the reaction: 'Oh, what a lovely photo!' and then they spoil it all by adding: 'Is that really you? I wouldn't have known!' So now I'm wondering if when I give talks to people who've only seen the cover, they'll have been expecting a pretty young woman to turn up. Well, sorry to disappoint, but it was a long time ago.

I did intend to put a picture of my cover at the start of this blog entry from the 'My Pictures' folder on my computer. But, after farting about for ages, it seems I still haven't got the hang of how to do it. Sorry about that, I'll figure it out later.

Editing

2008-10-09T02:30:00.000-07:00

My manuscript has come back from the copy-editor with lots of annotations on it, and a typed list of 'Editorial Queries'. Although they're fairly minor things, there's quite a lot for me to do. This is what's keeping me quiet at the moment. I'll be back to blogging soon.

Impromptu Talks

2008-09-30T01:47:00.000-07:00

I've started going to a local Speakers Club. Who? Me? Why is a shy, quiet person like me wanting to learn Public Speaking? Well, because I think it'll be good for me. I still sometimes retreat into my shy, quiet mode, especially in a group. Besides, when I start publicising 'The Dark Threads' I'll need to speak out in public, calmly and articulately.

At each session of the Speakers Club, we have to do an impromptu talk. With no time to prepare or think about it, we're given a subject, can be anything, and off we go. Standing in front of about fifteen people, we have to talk spontaneously for two minutes. To me, this is being thrown in at the deep-end. It's harder for me than being told to give a twenty-minute talk but go home first and have a week or two to prepare it. But I decided to be brave and jump in at the deep-end. Would I be waving or drowning?

And I did it. Yes, really. I couldn't have been more lucky with the subject: 'Reading'. Just before setting off that evening, I'd got Ian to give me a topic and to listen to me practise. He gave me 'Books'. So it wasn't too bad. I wasn't exactly waving, but not drowning either. We meet fortnightly on Monday evenings. I'll have to do it again and again. Scary stuff, but I'll survive. Initiation over, I'm on my way. Watch this space.

Indie Bookshops

2008-09-24T05:04:00.000-07:00

What do I know about independent bookshops? How often do I purchase from them? Very little, I'm afraid. But I intend to put that right. They need our support. I WILL support them.

So what's brought this on? Well, I visited one a few weeks ago. I didn't even know that the Saltaire Bookshop existed until I came across their website while browsing the internet for possible future venues to give a talk/reading. I found they hold regular events, with local authors as guest speakers. My book, The Dark Threads, doesn't come out until February, but I thought it best to start sussing out possible venues early.

So in I went to look around and chat up the owners. The place had a 'good feel' to it. The couple who run it are lovely; really helpful and friendly. I chatted, browsed the bookshelves, chatted some more, had a cup of coffee... and I said nothing about my book. We talked about how a lot of readers buy from Amazon and the big-chain bookstores, and never come into an independent bookshop. Yes, what a shame, I agreed. And, I was told, sometimes they get authors coming in who are only interested in what can be done for them: authors who want to publicise and sell their books there but never support independent bookshops themselves. Oh, that's wrong, I agreed, shaking my head sadly.

I must point out in my defence that by this stage I was NOT being two-faced. By then it had occurred to me how hard indie bookshop owners work to keep afloat in these days of 'big is beautiful'. It strikes me that the passion, friendliness and personal service of the small independent bookshops cannot be matched by glitzy three-for-two deals. I'm not pretending that I'll never again buy anything from big commercial chains. And yes, to be honest, I'm still hoping my book will be sold at Waterstones, Borders, and on Amazon. But I will also buy from local independents. I don't want them to go out of business. They provide an excellent service.

Ian and I are now regular customers of the Saltaire Bookshop. We've started going to their events - and very good they are too. And, yes, they do want me to give a talk there when my book comes out. Maybe that will be my easiest talk of all because by then it'll be just like home from home.

A Day in the Life...

2008-09-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

Here's an enjoyable day in my life. Picture me in Borders. First, I wander around the shelves of novels, dipping into whatever takes my fancy. I have an eclectic taste in books, so I don't just make a beeline for one or two particular authors. Then, down the stairs to the non-Fiction, where I'm spoilt for choice with all the interesting topics. Armed with a pile of books, I find myself a chair - you know, one of those comfy, black, softly cushioned ones. The younger me would sit on the floor; I used to think those chairs were put there for old people.

Lunchtime soon comes round. But no need to leave. There's a cafe on the second floor. Over a pizza slice and a cup of frothy coffee, I do some people-watching. It's fun to fill in the dots, imagining the lives, personalities, interests, occupations of the people around me. All are potential characters for a short story or (when I get back to writing one) a novel.

After lunch, I lounge about reading magazines for a while, before returning to the books. There's a good selection of magazines here.

I'm back on the non-Fiction floor now, looking for mental health memoirs and day-dreaming about seeing 'The Dark Threads' among them. How would it look? Oh dear, there's a Davies too near the top of the shelves. I can hardly see it or reach it. Authors with surnames that get put at eye level are the luckiest. But you never know, it differs. There are 'D's' on the shelf opposite at eye level, so that's okay. My book in a big-chain bookstore? Could it? Might it? Will it? And if it ever does get there, will I be one of those cheeky authors who pull it out to face the front? Maybe.

And that's when I see it. Right there on a shelf, nestled in between 'known' authors. An anthology called 'Doorways in the Night: stories from the threshold of recovery'. The Local Voices publication. In Borders. I take it down, thumb through the first story in it: my autobiographical piece called 'Give Me Back My Words'. I just manage to stop myself from tugging at the arm of the man standing next to me and shouting in his ear, while pointing at my name, 'Hey, look! That's me!'

Excitement over, I spend the rest of the afternoon browsing, reading, browsing some more, reading some more... Should I take myself up to the second floor for a tea-break now? Maybe in a while when I get to the end of this chapter. This is the life.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to mention. I do sometimes actually buy books.

Blogging

2008-09-15T07:39:00.000-07:00

Now that I've got 'up to date' I'll blog in and about the present. I suppose that's what bloggers do. But I wanted to write first about my route to getting a publisher for my memoir.

I'm new to this blogging lark, so I'm just finding my way. I'll get the hang of it soon. I'm not new to writing personal diaries, but those were only for my own eyes. I'm not new to writing about myself and my views (well, yes, there's the memoir) but with that kind of writing, I could think carefully in the editing stage about how to phrase each sentence and take plenty of time to consider how I've written things before revealing it to 'the world'. Not so with blogging. Some of my blog might read like 'stream of consciousness' stuff that just comes tumbling out. Why? Because I haven't got the time or inclination to agonise over every sentence and whether or not I've used correct punctuation and grammar, like I might do normally when 'writing for publication'.

Of course I am going to give some thought to what I write here. I'll refrain from the temptation to 'have a go' at my enemies, and so on. And I won't betray people's trust - definitely not. And I'll edit out the boring 'had a boiled egg for breakfast' stuff if any of that creeps in. But what I mean is I feel freer in writing a blog; I don't feel my standard of writing has to be 'perfect' before I dare press the 'Publish Post' button. I'm hoping my blog will interest others (that people will actually read it), but I'm also hoping it'll help me with writing; a good exercise for being more spontaneous but coupled with awareness that it's not just for my eyes. Anyway, enough of my rambling for today.

Bingo!

2008-09-14T14:51:00.000-07:00

Armed with a very positive report on 'The Dark Threads' from 'The Literary Consultancy', I decided to try a small, independent publisher. I'd heard of one with a good reputation called Accent Press and I'd read some of their books. I'd just finished reading 'Wannabe a Writer?' by Jane Wenham-Jones, a great book because not only is it full of practical advice, it's full of humour. Jane's book had me laughing all the way to the post box, and then, Bingo. Well, actually, it was back to the waiting game for over nine months (longer than it takes from conception to giving birth)... And just when I was thinking (sob, sob) that my beloved manuscript would end up growing whiskers in the back of a drawer, the phone rang.

It was a strange time for me when I got that phone call. I was dealing with my late father's affairs and had just been speaking on the phone to a snotty official who'd been insisting my dad owed some money when I knew he didn't as I'd paid it weeks earlier. When the phone rang again, I snatched it up in annoyance thinking it was the same irritating person. And it was Hazel Cushion saying they'd love to publish my memoir. Was it still available? Did I want to be published by Accent Press? YES!

And so here I am.

The Long Haul

2008-09-14T14:17:00.000-07:00

The road to publication wasn't easy. A few years ago I had an agent, the late Maggie Noach. I thought I'd arrived, especially when she was so enthusiastic about 'The Dark Threads'. She said she was up late at night reading it, found it riveting and coudn't put it down. Imagine a leading London literary agent saying lots of encouraging things like that about my work. She invited me to her house for a meal and she was lovely. Her cat, Mittens, who jumped on my knee for a cuddle, also helped put me at ease.

Maggie tried to place my book with big name mainstream publishers. I waited and waited... Nothing. Just nice comments and a bunch of what I think are called 'rave rejections'. After I'd become unagented again, two more mainstream publishers asked to see my full manuscript and showed interest but, several months later I had two more 'rave rejections' to add to my collection, and both told me I should 'get an agent'.

Get an agent. Yes, but how? An agent who'd been interested at the time I got Maggie said, no, not now that my manuscript had 'been around'. Okay, I see, all the nice guys want a virgin. I tried a few other agents who held similar views. One did ring me to say she liked my writing and would be happy to look at something else. Trouble is I hadn't got anything else ready to show her then, and I wasn't ready to give up on 'The Dark Threads'.

It's Been Accepted

2008-09-14T09:53:00.000-07:00

It happened. They said 'YES!' My mental health memoir 'The Dark Threads' is to be published by Accent Press in February 2009. Back in April I got THE CALL from Hazel Cushion, MD at Accent Press. My head's been reeling with pleasure ever since, though reality is kicking me up the backside right now. I'm finding more editing to do than I realised and can't imagine why I ever thought it was 'ready'. But that's okay, I can edit. Scariest bit comes next when I'll have to get out and about and shout. Helping with publicising doesn't come easy for shy, un-confident me. But, hey, it's great to have these things to bother about. I'm not complaining.

I'm fifty-something, with a rather big 'something' to add on to the fifty, and life is GREAT. I have a wonderful husband who, after 24 years of marriage, still makes my heart go bump-bump-bump when I look out the window and see him arriving home. My work as a mental health worker is interesting and fulfilling (after years of crap, boring jobs) and, since it's only part-time, I've got plenty of time for writing. My work-in-progess (a novel) is going well, or at least it was when I last looked at it before the distractions of April. And my first book 'The Dark Threads', a book I poured everything into I had to say that needed saying, is going to be published. It is. It is. IT REALLY IS.