Flu and other things...

I haven't written a sodding word for nearly 2 weeks. It is so depressing, yet I barely have the energy to make a cup of tea... Strange how illness, amongst other things can set the writing on hold. My mother said "You can focus on your writing still..." but my body said simply "Not today ,thanks..." and I promptly succumbed to the sofa.

Nearly two week's ago my lovely husband hurt his Achilles tendon and has been off sick ever since, (how very rude of him!), but seriously, I have been keen to spend as much time with him as possible since we rarely get the chance, the problem is that my pen  stays in its pot and my fingers have a break from the keyboard.

There are positives to these setbacks. Being ill isn't so bad because you just zone out from reality and the consuming feeling I have had has helped me with some anxieties (because I couldn't care less about flippant remarks or people not saying please or thank you when my legs won't move without real concentration!) Also, getting to be around my husband man has been fun, and if I wasn't full of coughs and his leg wasn't gammy, I am sure we would be re-living the pre-baby days! Hehe

There is also another perk to having an unexpected break from words, I am actually full of them compared to three weeks ago! I have so many ideas ready to flow and I have missed it sooooooooooo much! So on Monday next week (when life returns to normal) I will be returning to my little desk in the dog's room, and I will have a cup of steamy tea ready, and I will type and write and think and research!

Monday, Monday... I will be rejoicing with words, but I will oh so miss my husband man.

I think that sometimes it is best to go with the flow, enjoy life and if your body needs rest or your sick family member needs company, then do it... enjoy it... it's not forever. Laptops, computers and pens have all the time in the world. Plus, you might spark some new and interesting ideas along the way!

My story so far...

I remember the moment I knew that I wanted to write. I was training to be a primary school teacher at a University in Birmingham, and we were reading Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh. We were given the task to respond to a chapter and when I completed the task I felt a rush of passion that I hadn’t experienced in years. I remember the lecturer advising everyone in the room, but of course I felt as if she was addressing only me, that if writing is where your heart is then you shouldn’t be afraid to pursue it. After a very bad teaching placement, I returned to University and quit my course, whilst simultaneously applying to study Creative Writing at Aberystwyth University.

I had no idea how to fund it, or how I would move my belongings from England to Wales, but I was determined and it happened! I felt like I was in a film, moving to a strange new land and meeting some new and very strange people. It was so exciting and over the three years filled with lectures, essays and booze, I never really looked back. When I finished my degree I moved to Cardiff, not really sure why… I think an old boyfriend convinced me, but thank goodness he did, because then I met my soon-to-be husband.

Warren and I dated for a while and then the urge hit me again. I was working full time fitting bras and although I loved my job, I loved writing a whole lot more! So, I started dreaming about studying my MA and before I knew it I was packing up and moving back into student accommodation aged 26. It was a great year of my life. I made some amazing friends and my relationship with Warren grew stronger, so much so that we got married the following year!

The day after our wedding I received the news that I ad passed my MA, but then the following day I had news that would really change my life forever. I found out I was pregnant. From that day on it seemed that everything paled in significance, even my love of pen meeting paper. Within just under three years, we had moved four times and had two lovely children. We were manic, we were a bit short on cash, but we were very, very happy.

Then came the day that my Dad died and suddenly the whole picture of our life smacked us in the face. I had been studying to be a midwife whilst Warren worked in excess of 55 hours a week, the children were in childcare from 7am-6pm most days and we lived in a built up city that had lost its heart and soul the day my Dad passed away.

I’m guessing you have already gathered that I certainly don’t mess around when a new idea or suggestion comes along, and well, neither does Warren. We make a pretty decisive and gung-ho couple, and I like that- a lot. We were sat trying to enjoy our Valentine’s meal and I had spent most of it crying into my wine glass, lost in my own grief. Then he said the thing that would change our world, change our future and catapult us into a new life. He said, ‘I think you should write your book…’ and he looked at me.

There was a quick discussion about where, how, when? Then two months later we were living in a new house in Wales, we had a new dog, new ‘sensible’ car and we were happy. We all missed my Dad, and we still do, but I believe he left us with a little gift when he died; a gift to make us want to live.

So here we are and here I am. Sat at my desk telling you I am going to write a novel. I have never written one before, and I am scared, excited, nervous, think I may have been sick in my mouth a few times just thinking about it, but I am going to do it. I am going to be a writer.