How Deserving Am I of Awards?

That perennial shrew and busybody, Old Mother Busyness, has prevented me from graciously accepting and passing on two awards I have received this glorious month of May.  But it’s not just her, it’s also that nasty old hag called Shame.  Just how deserving am I anyway of these awards? When there are so many other brilliant writers out there?

Today, however, I will kick those two old witches to one side, and mention both awards in one post.  Hopefully that will not cause gross offence to the Great Owlish Order of the Great Lords of E-Wisdom, or whoever is currently ruling the Internet.

So, first of all, thank you to Ami Fidele, who has been waiting so patiently for me to respond to his Inspiring Blog award nomination.  I have mentioned him before and I will mention him again: he is philosophical, lyrical, a true romantic and he writes beautiful poetry.  Oh, and did I say he is a lovely online friend, too?

The second award , One Lovely Blog, comes from a more recent acquaintance, Ash N. Finn.  But such is the marriage of true minds over the blogosphere that I already feel we understand each other very well.  Thank you, Ash, and if you appreciate really clever and surprising flash fiction, you will love her blog.  I was also simultaneously nominated by Honoré Dupuis for this same award, so big thanks to him too, he is such a supportive and active presence on blogs and Twitter, it’s been a pleasure knowing and reading him.

The requirements are quite similar, thanking your ‘nominator’, sharing those dreaded seven personal revelations, the only difference being the number of bloggers you then link to.  I will err on the side of plenty, and I will start with the Inspiring Blog Awards, because these are all bloggers I love and look forward to reading.  My only complaint is that some of them do not post frequently enough for my taste.  Please, guys, let me hear from you soon!

A Literal Girl – American in Oxford, blogs about books, meeting of the minds on the Internet, writing, music and anxiety

Iliterate Poet – poetry and art with a pinch of humour

Rivenrod – completely, delightfully mad and brilliant at art, poetry and microfictions

Writing for Ghosts – teacher, writer, musician and parent, he does it all

Creative Flux – or rather Terre Britton, who curates this wonderful site, full of resources and inspiration for writers

Hyakunin Isshu – translation and commentary of some of the most beautiful classic Japanese poems

Irretrievably Broken – beautiful writing about a grim subject, divorce

Mullings of a Mindtramp – searingly honest poetry

The Linnet – get drunk in the lush imagery of these poems

The Thread is Red – creative adventures and one of the most attractive sites ever

Rebuilding Holly –  naturally gifted writer trying to break out of the corporate stranglehold

Poet Janstie – he’s waited all his life to write – and how well he does it!

Mind’s Sky – I’ve nominated her before – can I help it, if she is so good? Really thoughtful, gorgeous poetry

Mocha Beanie Mummy – combines photography, storytelling and coffee – a winning combination

Connie Assad – fellow Cowbirder, amazing personal stories

And seven more for the One Lovely Blog Award, who do post regularly, but whom I read with undiminished enthusiasm:

RC Gale – he makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he makes me think

Project White Space – a newish discovery for me, she remotivates me with her energy

Writing on Board – sailor, sculptor, writer, adventurer

Coffee and Spellcheck – subsists on coffee, imagination and her love of words

Madame Guillotine – not that she needs my awards – very popular, fun and informed about history

Keat’s Babe – she is so multitalented and diverse!

Writeitdownith – inspiring writer but also great connector and encourager of people

There are so many more I would love to mention, or mention again.  But that’s given you enough to be getting on with. And it also serves as a reminder that I need to update my blogroll.

So now, for those of you who haven’t yet wandered off to check out these lovely bloggers … why haven’t you?  That’s the best thing about awards, to connect with others and discover new minds and souls.  But if you are waiting with bated breath for those stunning personal revelations, here they are, my favourite seven words in the English language (at least, at this moment in time):

1) belligerent

2) serendipity (mine and everyone else’s, but who said I had to be original?)

3) rivulets

4) surfeit

5) exaltation

6) imagination

7) jitterbug (by the way, did you know that the term was originally used to describe alcoholics?)

Uh-oh, it’s just occured to me: I do like long, pretentious sounding words, don’t I?  Maybe I should develop a loving relationship with the word ‘purge’!

Rebellious Songs

Today is another ominous, rainswept day and I turn once more to music to lift my mood.  Yesterday my good friend Nicky Wells posted the lyrics and translation of possibly one of the saddest (though most beautiful) songs in the world, which didn’t help.  So I turned to more revolutionary songs that meant a lot to me in my youth, like Pink Floyd’s ‘Another Brick in the Wall’.  But that was depressing too, so what to do?

Confession time: I was never an avid follower of fashion in either clothes, music or literature.  Especially with music, I just liked what I liked, usually becoming obsessive about a certain artist or band, following every single release and snippet of news about them.  Some of my choices were kind of obvious for the time (Madonna, Duran Duran), others were more unusual  or considered old-fashioned  (David Bowie, Queen, Dire Straits).  But one constant pattern in my life (which only really becomes obvious with the gift of hindsight) is my love for rebellious songs.  Perhaps it’s the legacy of growing up in a Communist dictatorship, but I’ve always had a soft spot for  songs that protest against the established order of things, that are critical of an unjust society, whether that society is democratic and capitalist (Bruce Springsteen) or more obviously in the grips of dictatorship (Mikis Theodorakis).

So here are two of my favourite songs, with very suggestive lyrics.  And, despite the serious subject matter, the music somehow manages to uplift rather than dampen me!

First, the classic Supertramp song that almost anyone can hum along to: ‘The Logical Song’. And these are the lyrics that get to me every single time:

But then they sent me away
To teach me how to be sensible
Logical, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world
Where I could be so dependable
Clinical, intellectual, cynical

Secondly, a rather less well-known song ‘Superbacana’ by the great Brazilian singer,  composer and political activist Caetano Veloso.  He was briefly imprisoned by the military dictatorship in Brazil and had to go into exile in the late 1960s. I was unable to find a video of Caetano singing this, but here is an audio snippet:

My knowledge of Portuguese is very rudimentary, so my translation is probably not very accurate, but to me the song seems to be mocking the rhetoric of the absolutist Brazilian government of the time, promising ‘supersonic aircraft, electronic (high-tech) parks, atomic power, economic progress’, everything super-duper in fact, while contrasting it with the actual poverty of the vast majority of the population, who have ‘nothing in your pocket or your hands’.

Why do these songs cheer me up a little on such a gloomy day? [By the way, you may think I am harping overly much on the fact that it is raining, but I have been known to suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, so it really is all in my mind!]  Because they express anger in a humorous way.  I find anger a more productive sentiment than sadness and despair, because it usually makes you want to do something to change matters.  And when anger is tinged with humour, it no longer is simply destructive, but becomes instructive and constructive.

What do you think of these songs?  Are you a fan of songs with ‘political’ messages?  Or does that create an obstacle in your appreciation of a song?  And what about songs in different languages, where you might not understand the subtext or even the outright meaning at all?  Can you still enjoy a song, even if you think it’s about something completely different?

Wake up and smell the realism… what works and what doesn’t when you launch your self-published book.

Here Comes the Sun…shine Award!

Goodness knows, we could really do with some sunshine – especially as we have our very first  Sports Day at a French school this afternoon and it looks like it will be a complete washout!

Thank you to the lovely Joanne Phillips, who has nominated me for the Sunshine Award.  If you haven’t yet come across her blog A Writer’s Journey, I do recommend you read it for the down-to-earth, humorous description of writing and publishing.  She is currently profreading her first novel ‘Can’t Live Without’, yet somehow still manages to find time to read and respond to blog posts and be really encouraging to newbies.

I’ve also been trying to find out the source for this blog award, but have to admit defeat.  Apparently, it is designed to celebrate those bloggers whose positive and creative spirit inspire you.  There is also some disagreement on what exactly you need to do in order to be the proud possessor of this badge of distinction on your blogsite, but I will follow Joanne’s guidelines:

• Write five things about yourself
• Include the award’s logo in a post
• Nominate 5 other bloggers
• Link to your nominees
• Link the person who nominated you

Now, confession time:

I hate writing things about myself.  I have created a pseudonym for myself so that I don’t have to give too much away about myself.  I believe that one’s books or poems or creations or blog posts are revealing enough of my inner life.  And the outer one doesn’t really matter that much at all.  But I get it, the curiosity to know more about a person we are interacting with, especially at a distance.  Or to find out more about what moves an artist, (not that I am putting myself into that category!), what influences they might have had – I’ve devoured even the most prurient stuff about Sylvia Plath.  Back when I was a teenager, when I fancied myself like her.  Now I just hope that I am NOT like her!

So here are five random and little known facts about me:

Favourite film: Terry Gilliam’s ‘Brazil’ (although slightly unnerving that the Far Right in the US also like this film – maybe they think it’s a documentary?)

Favourite book: ‘The Great Gatsby’ or Jane Austen’s ‘Persuasion’, can never quite limit myself to just one

Most annoying and overused expression: ‘Now that I think about it…’

What makes me angry: Rudeness, although lack of caring under a veneer of politeness is just as bad

Most embarassing childhood outfit: I used to dress up like Madonna in ‘Desperately Seeking Susan’, cutting the fingers off my gloves and the feet off my tights.

And here are my gorgeous five nominees, who brighten up my day whenever I read their blogs:

Nicky Wells – Romance that Rocks Your World – for being the humorous, energetic, romantic person that she is, which shines through in her books and blog posts

A Year of Reading the World – this is such an inspirational and mammoth project, each new post makes me discover a world of possibility

Holly Anne – HollyAnne Gets Poetic – her poems make me giggle, give me goosebumps or make me think – a winning combination!

Claire – Word by Word – how can I not be inspired by a fellow expat writer based in France? However, she lives in the sunnier south of  France, so she can bring some sunshine in my life!

Corey Booth – Clown Ponders – can he really be only 20 years old?  He works, he blogs, he writes poetry and he brings web-based poets together with his weekly poetry challenge – he’s an amazing guy – and no, I’m not flattering him because I am taking part in this week’s challenge (he does not have the casting vote anyway).

 

 

 

Now for something completely different…

It seems that no sooner have I finished with one bunch of administrative tasks that I have been putting off for weeks, then it’s time for the next lot to arrive.  I would also like someone to tell me why they always arrive in bunches, like grapes, rather than in single digestible fruits?

However, I still managed to find time to stop and smell the flowers.

The cherry tree in our garden is nearly done with its blossoms, but my favourite flowers are out now:

Yes, lilacs.  I love them in all shapes, colours and forms.  Although I do have a preference for white lilac.

There is something about their scent that no synthetic perfume can capture.  I could set up tent under their canopy for two weeks every year.

And perhaps that is the reason for their magic and attraction: their transcience.  Like camellias or cherry blossoms, blink (or go away on holiday) and you miss them!

So enjoy them while you can. In spite of the rain and clouds.

Writing can wait.  No, I don’t mean that!  But admin tasks perhaps…

Here’s a last one, for luck.

I’ve found my dream location for thinking about writing as well.  Now, if that swing were surrounded by lilac bushes, you know where you could find me for the next couple of weeks!

 

 

 

Abundance

The more you give,

the more we want from you.

The less we get,

the less we need.

The greater the belief,

the faster the drop.

We gurgle content when you are out of sight

we clamour with impatience when you hover by

We ask and ask, for ears that hear us,

and hearts that answer with memories of guilt.

Relieved of care, we waste not, want not.

Away from pity, we do not fear.

We live, survive, grow and wonder

at your anger, confusion and delusions of grandeur.

 

You ask and ask

in bawling bands clinging too tightly,

You want and want, unruly imp,

so winsome, so toothsome.

You glance, we melt

lest we forget

what got us here in the first place.

Dandelions & Bad Hair Days – how mental health & motherhood woke up the writer in me

Dandelions & Bad Hair Days – how mental health & motherhood woke up the writer in me.

Looking forward to reading this book – the anxiety that dare not speak its name in the competition of upbeat self-deprecation of the school run!

For this award, I would like to thank…

Do you get annoyed when the Academy Award winners go on and on, well beyond their allotted minutes, and thank their entire family, circle of friends, business associates, fellow actors, pets and maybe even their stamp collection?  I know that like all sensible, rational people (i.e. people I call ‘friends’), I do find award ceremonies a bit of a tiresome lovefest…  Unless, of course, I happen to be the one nominated, in which case, like all creative, imaginative, brilliant people (whom I also call ‘friends’), I begin to think that awards are a wonderful, meaningful process of appreciating one’s fellow geniuses (genii?).

So, yes, you might have surmised from this that I was jumping up and down in excitement when I came back from holiday and discovered that my dear faithful (by name and by nature) friend Ami Fidèle had nominated me for the Liebster Blog award.  It’s my first award and only the second time I have been tagged for something, so bear with me while I do a little dance around my living room.

OK, back now, and ready to fulfill my obligations for the award:

1) Thank the person who nominated you and link back to them. Well, if you haven’t come across the beautifully romantic poetry of Ami Fidèle or Ami de Rêve, a Cyrano de Bergerac who has somehow wandered into the 21st century, then I strongly recommend you go to his blog and enjoy it.

2) Copy and paste the award logo – done!

3)  Nominate five other bloggers you would like to pass the award on to.

This was really hard, partly because there are so many wonderful bloggers that I have discovered recently, who have become firm favourites.  Also, because quite a few of them have awards already, or have just been nominated by someone else.  Or are way too well-known and universally appreciated to worry about this teeny-timid clap on the back from me.   Still, I have done my best, they are all blogs I can whole-heartedly recommend (and I only fear that they may be too busy to respond).

Ethan Greenwood – Letters from the Wasteland – for outstanding word-craft

Polly Robinson – for variety, versatility and encouraging activity

Layla from Be Not Afeard – for thoughtful provocation

Already Not Published – for being candid about her writing journey

Eclectic Nomad – because I would like to read more from her

4) Tell your readers ten random facts about you.  To alleviate the potential monotony of such a long list, I have tried to associate each random fact with a book title.

 

Ballet Shoes  I always dreamt of becoming a ballet dancer, but, when I was about seven, my mother happened to be in the same ward in hospital as a ballet dancer who had broken her spine after her partner dropped her (and was paralysed for life).  So I was never allowed to continue with my dancing.  I read all of Noel Streatfield and Lorna Hill instead.

Water for Elephants  My second dream job was to work as a keeper in an elephant orphanage somewhere in Africa.  I still adore elephants and have a collection of elephant figures (sadly, mostly stored in the attic with all of this moving around).  And I would never, ever buy any ivory.

The Sea, the Sea  My favourite colours are blue and turquoise. And I love anything to do with the sea.

Starman   The first single I ever bought (way before downloads) was David Bowie’s ‘Scary Monsters (Super Creeps)’ and I remain a big fan to this day (prefer the earlier work, though).

James and the Giant Peach  I like all fruit and vegetables, except for the notorious durian, which makes me gag.

Chocolat  I have a sweet tooth and used to be able to eat up to five desserts a day (instead of proper food). No longer!

Not Waving but Drowning  I never learnt to swim properly (although I can float and do breast stroke), and am terrified of drowning.

Bleak House  My guilty pleasure is reading home improvement/ interior design magazines.  I’ve been known to buy them at airports even if they are in Danish, Swedish and other languages that I do not speak.

Confessions of an (English?) Opium Eater  I’m not English.  But I write and dream in English and I speak English better than any other language.

There Is No Long Distance Now  I started this blog about two months ago as a place to ‘park’ all my work in progress, and as a way to hold myself to account and write something every day, after sooooo many years of putting my creative writing last. I was inspired by the wonderful poet Naomi Shihab Nye, who, with her wonderful eyes, deep voice and luminous presence, told me that even seven minutes a day spent working on a poem counts as writing.  Since then, I have never looked back. I never expected anybody to read the blog and was firmly convinced all my first readers were spammers.  I have been overwhelmed by the encouragement, support and new friends that I have gained from it.  And that I have not been forgotten even during the three weeks I was offline. I am very grateful indeed, thank you all!

So there you are, I still managed to thank everybody for this award. Except for my (imaginary) stamp collection.

Surfeit of Boxes

I am still in the throes of moving and do not have Internet or phone or TV connection, nor even a desk on which to put my laptop.  So this is written in less than ideal environment while having a coffee at a place with free Wifi.  I just didn’t want be silent for so long.  Needless to say, my current thoughts are very much taken up with packing, unpacking and cartons.

All packed up.

Not neat,

Just jumbled

Out of sight

In forgettable cartons

With reductionist labels.

At first it seemed the avalanche of boxes would be

Unable to contain a life half-lived, a life half-envied,

Detritus of consumption, dresses never worn.

Then, when the flat was laid to waste,

Bereft of colour, longing, personality,

Pale in its nothingness, reduced to so little –

The rich canvas of life together now squeezed

In his and her boxes,

His and her children,

Safely contained

In their separate storage,

To be manipulated,

Torn bleeding apart,

But bled dry.

Those leaking boxes that overflow

And mess up the new spaces

Wherever you put them down.

Not knowing where

To locate

The heart.

The Angel and Edna (Part 1)

Something quite different today: the beginning of a story that dates back almost 30 years.  Yes, I was a child when I first got the idea for it (and the title – the name Edna has never changed).  I’ve lost the original version and have ended up rewriting it once or twice every decade since.  The ending always varies, and sometimes disappears altogether.  I’ve never been satisfied with the story, have never felt it was complete. Perhaps this is the story of my life?

Edna had her devilish streak of course, but on the whole she resembled the great-aunt she had been named after: trim, prim and efficient.  She didn’t own a TV – instead, she liked curling up with a good or even average book on her sofa.  She cooked twice a week and froze it all in neat little batches.  Occasionally she might keep herself company with a small glass of sweet sherry.  No excesses of any kind.

She also liked going to the library.  Which was quite fortunate, really, since she was the village librarian.  This was no poncey Multimedia Resource Centre, but a good old-fashioned village library that had somehow managed to survive local council cuts, although it was no longer open daily.  It had a play area for children, a cosy seating area for reading the papers and countless dusty reference volumes outlining the delights of the local area, of which there were many.  They had some CDs and DVDs, of course, but no computers, and the returns were still done with card index files.  This was the job that everyone thought was deadly dull, but Edna quite liked the sheer mindlessness of it.

It was precisely those card index files that Edna was re-indexing one quiet Thursday morning, when, under her curtain of hair, she saw two bare feet come to a stop in front of her desk.  She looked up and saw an angel.  So startled was she, that she dropped the card-drawer with an almighty crash and the cards all came tumbling onto the floor.

‘Heaven’s bells and hallelujah!’ The angel jumped.

This was so extreme that Edna had to smile amidst her confusion.  It must be a joke.  A fancy dress party.  Or a poor madman wandering about lost.

‘Can I help you?’ asked Edna in her most professional voice.

The angel smiled beatifically.  He really was gorgeous, with very big, strikingly blue eyes, long lashes, wavy hair right up to his shoulders and rosy cheeks.

‘No, no, let me help you!’