Spot the dog

Fits and starts

Many apologies for my long silence. I am still here.

As I’ve said before, I’m a person of small brain and can only concentrate on one thing at a time and, as I’ve had absolutely no ideas whatsoever about what to write here, I think that my brain must be occupied with Novel at the moment.

Contrary to what I said in the last but one post, I’m still on the first draft. I discovered that while I knew roughly what happened in the second half of the book, I didn’t know how it happened. So that’s what I’m working through at the moment – in fits and starts.

I find this stage both the most exciting – when inspiration arrives – and the most terrifying – when inspiration departs. With later drafts you have something concrete to work on – words you’ve already written, however bad they are – but at this stage all you have is the mush in your brain and the divine spark that transforms it but which isn’t under your control.

I think I’m coming to my main character’s lowest point and I find it hard to put both her – and me – through that. It’s also hard to see her getting things so wrong. It’s like admitting to one’s own failures. (It is admitting to one's own failures?)

Is this all interesting to anyone apart from other writers? Or to anyone? I don’t know. In case not, here’s a picture that I took a few days ago while walking Dog. I always get Lord-of-the-Rings-ish at this time of year and this path reminds me of the (first) film.

Several pictures, not many words



Sunbeams





More sun, more trees



Dead oak tree and view



Nearly-new moon



Toadstool row

Mini update

1.      My new walking boots are great. My feet have almost stopped hurting.

2.      Ellie is a year and a quarter now. When we took her to the vet for her yearly booster injection, the vet complimented us on her behaviour. A lot of dogs with her mixture of breeds (springer spaniel and collie) turn into problem dogs, apparently. I wasn’t sure whether to be depressed or pleased.

3.      I am suffering from a strange complaint. For the last four weeks my lips have been cracking, peeling and bleeding. Sometimes they swell as if with collagen implants gone wrong. (Frog, bless him, says he can’t see any difference from normal.) In desperation I went to the doctor and, as usual when they hear I’m almost vegan, she wanted to do a blood test to check for my iron levels. Results on Monday.

4.      I have plunged into Second Draft of Novel and am quite pleased with how it’s shaping up (at the moment, today, touch wood, fingers crossed). Hence the sketchiness of this post and my recent silence.

Ellie in clover

Meditation

So sad, lump in my solar plexus. Want to cry.

What is it?

Feel alone. Lost.

Unsure about writing.

Unsure about dog.

Help!

Not think.

Chance to feel.

. . .

Such beautiful stillness today.

I love my blogging friends.

Be kind to myself.

I don’t have to do anything except put one foot in front of the other.

Help is there.

I don’t have to be in charge of everything.

One word in front of the other.

Be myself.

Settle

I feel connected again

A breeze touches my cheeks

A bird above me sings

Thank you God

Thank you.

A crow laughs at me

It will all get sorted

I want some scrambled eggs and a soya-milk cappuccino

Serenity

One step at a time



Burow Mump, Somerset