It arrived! What an incredible feeling, to hold this book in my hands! It is the proof copy of my novel, filled with editor’s marks, but still… Soon the printing proper will begin, and the next step will be the arrival of big boxes of books!
I never imagined it to feel like this, the thrill of seeing my name in print, proper ISBN number on the back, along with the RRP in various currencies!
I will keep you all updated, of course, and soon I will post the full cover!
Six months ago I had my first Personal Training session ever! Not only did I realise how dreadfully unfit I was, it also made me realise how much I’d missed sports, workouts and just getting fit! So I started working out, eating healthy food, and felt so much better, even though cramming it into my mad life was hard!
I was training for a huge challenge, which helped me to focus (I’m a bit of an all or nothing person!). Sadly, the Challenge was postponed, so I felt a bit lost, just training into space as it were.
I really want new fitness goals, new ways to stay accountable, and enjoy this journey with others. I’m getting closer every day and still have a long way to go, but it’s something I don’t want to do by myself! It’s so much more fun & motivating with others!
So I’m hosting an online health accountability group that starts Monday 10th of June for anyone who’d like to transform their health with me! We’ll exercise, eat filling meals & stay positive. Let’s do this together! I want to keep it a small group for even more accountability; so I’m only going to be working with 5 of you!
If you’re interested in learning more, do contact me on Facebook, or Instagram @vicarioush.ome I’d love to hear from you!
Just a random thought about how random our fears and feelings can be.
My children love Thunderbirds, especially the new ones. They watched the whole lot with Richard, and especially C bases his stories on Thunderbirds. He has his own variety though, called Firebirds, who happen to have the same vehicles and names…with himself added as the main hero of course.
He loves his stories, and they are usually very funny and sweet, full of emergencies miraculously solved by C Tracy, the amazing Firebirds hero. He tells his stories in the car, annoying or delighting his siblings, depending on the amount of sleep they had the night before… He builds his own pods out of lego, and draws endless pictures of his Firebirds. This is all wonderful, of course.
This went wrong one morning when he asked me to get Alexa to play the latest Firebirds series… He was outraged when I told him that Alexa wouldn’t be able to find his Firebirds stories. He insisted on me finding it, but of course, poor Alexa and I failed! When I explained that Alexa couldn’t find his stories, because they weren’t real he really lost it. Of course his stories were real! He had goodness knows how many episodes, hundreds of series, and tacks of papers with dvd cover pictures to prove it… In the end he calmed down when we told him to start saving up so he could produce his own Firebirds dvd when he was a bit older.
He hasn’t accepted it though. He stopped, but still doesn’t understand why Alexa won’t show his Firebirds stories. He still blames me for my failure to get Alexa to play them. Every time we explain that he will need to produce the dvd first, then hopefully Alexa can play it for him. But it’s still my fault…
It’s irrational. It’s frustrating, and it makes me sad, for five year old P understands completely the difference between your own made up stories and stories that can be found on Alexa. It makes me feel sad when I hear P explaining to C why Firebirds can still not be found on Alexa, with C literally stamping his foot and grumbling, and trying to convince P that Firebirds is real…
I was thinking about this whilst driving to the gym in Holland. The road is alongside the canal, and I suddenly realised that we can all be irrational sometimes. I don’t like driving next to a canal. My mum really, really hates it. She will always tell my dad to stay on the road, to be careful, to not drive into the canal… I find myself thinking her words whilst driving along at 80 k/ph. I have actually never driven my car off the road, so why would I now? I have no intention of driving into the canal, so why do I tell myself to be careful and not drive into the water? As if I was thinking of doing so!
Once, when swimming in Holland I watched the police academy students having a diving lesson, practising to rescue people n the water. I then figured out that if ever I got into the water in a car, my only hope of getting out was somehow figuring it out myself, for most of those aspiring police officers wouldn’t be of much help… (Maybe they had another 25 lessons, and actually, by the time they are let loose on the public they are amazing divers and swimmers…!!??)
So me leaning over to the left a tiny bit in my car was just as irrational!
So much fear is being passed on at the moment, so much of it totally irrational. You won’t believe the amount of people who have asked me if and when I will be deported with my Dutch passport. Seriously??!! Irrational.
So many people live in fear. Some of that is justified, but often we fear those things the most that will actually never happen. We waste time and energy worrying and fretting over stuff that is irrelevant or irrational. We forget, especially as Christians, we forget that nothing happens by chance, that God is still in control, and He works all things for good for those who love Him.
He reminds us, “Fear not!” even to those whose fear was justified and not irrational at all. So how much more should we trust Him over fears that are just in our minds!?
Stories
Do stories differ depending on where they’re set? Staying in the Netherlands has been wonderful as well as busy. We have walked, gone swimming, visited friends and family, as well as just relax. I loved being around people, and it made me think about interactions. I love Dutch humour, I must admit… the way they operate is so different, and it came out in the running group I went with. The banter and chatter was really refreshing, something I have missed, I realised. The run refreshed me, even though I was the one at the back, gasping for breath, with a very red face… it was the way people chat to each other, thoroughly disagree with each other, complain about stuff they don’t like, but still laugh together and have a great time. I loved how they don’t do the male/female divide, the never-the-twain-shall-meet sort of thing. The idea of running with a mixed group would make me think twice in England, whereas in the Netherlands it’s great fun, and adds a dimension to the whole thing. I liked the winding up that goes on, and how people make you feel welcome and include you in their jokes. I missed the male humour, the way guys joke when there’s women around, and how just doing things together works well in the Netherlands, without it feeling weird. I really, really missed that, and I’m grateful for the few chances I had to go running. Everything seemed so relaxed and calm, and their lives are busy and filled, but still organised.
Running around the forest, walking around the highest waterfall and seeing places has given me some great story ideas as well…a Body near the waterfall, after all, it’s not that busy, and anything can happen. It’s the reason I don’t really like walking through a quiet wood, wondering if there’ll be a hand poking out from the leaves… Another story could be a stalker in the woods…Jogging along at the back, I just thought about it. I run very quietly, and every now and again, it sounded like there was someone behind me, but there never was… What if I wasn’t running with a group, but alone, and the steps behind me weren’t imagined, but real? That set me off wondering if a slight, but fit and fast girl can outrun or defend herself against a large man intend on harming her… Looking at the woods, the dark trunks, many trees chopped down, the ground turned over rather effectively by wild boar, I could just imagine staying there. The woods are large, with plenty of shelter, so what if there was someone hiding in the woods… We were watching the skating rink, a long line of men zooming round on their speed skates. Speed skates make formidable weapons, their irons sharp and sticking out a good way at the front as well as the back…
Not even sure where to start, or which story to tell first. The best part with Living Vicariously is that you can include whatever you want, like your favourite food! Just two days and NaNoWriMo is over, and as soon as the first draft is done I will start on some stories set in the Netherlands… I can’t wait, and as we’re driving home with the rain pelting our windscreen I’m glad that at least my mind can stay behind a bit longer, wandering through the golden brown forests, listening to the splattering sound of the neatest waterfall ever…
Life moves on. Or life moves away from you, I find. I was wondering this morning whether living in the past is a form of Vicarious Living. You know, forgetting how much life has changed, you have changed; pretending things have stayed the same!
I went running this morning, with Trim Apeldoorn. The last time I ran with them was when I was 20 or 21, so a while back… It brought back lots of memories, although there were changes as well. I always ran in the evening, now it was (early!) morning. Even the starting point has changed a little. The bucket used to be yellow, hanging off a tree. It’s amazing how these tiny details matter, and how they show up change.
It was -4 when I set off in the car, and I had to scrape the windscreen (I had to use a stirring thing from the kitchen, as there was no ice scraper in our car…mmmmm), and I wondered if I would make it in time. Having managed to get up in time, kitted out, and myself brave enough to actually go, I was thinking how annoyed I was going to be if I missed it… I made it in time, just! I went with the slowest group, the group I always went with as I prefer the interval type training they do, but when I was younger I would be running near the front. Now I was right at the back, wondering what happened to my lungs… With age they must have shrunk dramatically, that’s all I can say!
The forest was incredibly beautiful though, and I was quite tempted to stop and take pictures, but as I was slow enough already, I didn’t want to push it… Anyway, I managed to survive the hour, I think I gave my lungs the shock of their life, I’ve been coughing ever since getting back into my car…
It’s funny how change comes so unexpected. Of course, I knew I was really unfit, but to run with a group that you used to run with, through familiar woods, but to find yourself at the back, gasping like a drowning hippo… It’s a change that creeps up, for life is busy, and you forget that time passes. You live vicariously as your younger self, and you see yourself as you used to be. You see others as they used to be.
This week brought grief as well. My aunt died. She had been very ill for a while, and recently her kidneys just gave in. I remember the aunt from the huge house though. The aunt who had a hallway with dark red carpet that could swallow my parent’s house, but you weren’t allowed to run around like a looney, (Too many antiques and ornaments…!) which felt such a waste of the really, really thick carpet and endless space. I remember playing in the park with my cousin, getting muddy in our best clothes… and now the only mud we have to clean off is our kids’ muddy hands and faces… Somehow I got time warped there as well. My aunt has moved houses several times since then, my cousin has her own family. And now my aunt is gone, and reality comes knocking.
I just realised that I like Living Vicariously. I’m only 50 kilo, instead of 11 stone (Ha! Such a nice, natural sounding way to measure yourself… At least you could pretend that it’s any stone you fancy, rather than the set weight…which makes me stare at my scales in horror!) I like people to stay the way they always were, I definitely would like my fitness to stay the way it always was. Even carparks, buckets, and roads should stay the way they were. I really dislike change, I realised.
Of course, it shows in the falling leaves and the golden brown beech leaf carpet in the forest that nothing lives forever, only God. It shows that we are finite, mortal, limited. It shows we are created with eternity in our heart. Just like some leaves we still cling on though, pretending it’s not the end of autumn, and it’s not time to let go and join the other leaves, there is no such thing as change…Reality can be the fact that it’s -4, and not many leaves will cling on for much longer! Vicarious Living just gives you a chance to remember good times, good things. Bringing a smile to reality, even if it hurts. Like the incredible sunbeams lighting up the floating leaves.
November is a challenge this year. I am well into my NaNoWriMo story, although the character is starting to get a little on my nerves… The way she feels sick every time something or someone scares her… Never mind, she’s getting stronger, and actually hasn’t been sick for a few days now. Although she’s going to a new church, which might make her be sick all over the floor, who knows?
I do sympathise with my main character a tiny bit, as I got myself into something totally out of my comfort zone. My comfort zone is loads of coffee, a military/police type novel and a comfy sofa once the kids are in bed. I know I gained quite a bit of weight since moving to England. I thought it would never happen to me, but somehow after I turned thirty it did. It wasn’t completely bad, as teachers used to check with friends if I had anorexia (which I hadn’t!!) but nobody has asked that for years now! There’s a difference between then and my weight now though, and I have known for a while that I ought to do something about it. Like, next week. I also know that I’m really, really unfit, as in, walking-up-the-slope-to-the-car-and-I’m-out-of-breath unfit. Which in a way annoys me more than the extra pounds that really could do with disappearing.
The problem is, I really cannot stand gyms. I have been three times in my almost 20 years in England, and I just can’t stand them. I’m quite competitive, but not against my self, by myself. Also, being really unfit doesn’t help. I get really bored, it’s not my thing at all. Running is great but I don’t love it, and causes too many issues. Most things are in the evening, and I haven’t many evenings left free. My writing happens in the evening as well, so there’s another great excuse…I need to get fit though. Next week or so. This month I want to get to the 50,000 words to win the NaNoWriMo. I have 14,000 already, so I’m doing well, but of course it will take up a lot of time. It will also involve a lot of sitting down, with a drink, and maybe even a snack… Getting fit has definitely been struck off the list with Goals For November…
My main character for my NaNoWriMo challenge has been taken out of her comfort zone, and is constantly being pushed further and further out, and I roll my eyes at her for making such a big deal of each and every obstacle. Until it was my turn! By answering a questionnaire about a holiday thing the kids had been to I was offered a free PT session in their new gym facility, and I said ‘yes’ for I know I ought to get fit and all that… then I realised what I had done…! I had signed up for an hour session with a personal trainer to do…well, fitness type stuff. When I explain to ‘people like me’ that I’m really unfit they really know what I mean. I just wasn’t sure that ex-commandos would think of unfit in the same terms though…and that what they call a ‘gentle workout’ would actually make that I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week…?
So now I feel a bit guilty towards my main character for my eye rolling and tutting…for I was really, really nervous before my PT session, the sort of “Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant” Caesar-type greeting nervous… There was no way I would back out though (too stubborn), so I got myself to ACE Commandos, wondering if I would be able to drive home at the end…
It was great! I enjoyed it, loved the challenge, it wasn’t a killer or making me feel embarrassed for be soooo unfit, cringed that the lightest kettle bells were pink…(I hate pink anyway, just thought it was hilarious!), could still move at the end, and actually managed to stop off at Tesco and lug a heavy bag with loads of milk to the car! My next session is in a few weeks, and I honestly can’t wait! It’s set me back on a track that I’m very happy with. Ha, never thought I would count the days till I can do more exercise…!
Now I just need to write another 36,000 words, and get my main character to stop being sick altogether, and to realise that being challenged is good! Honestly, working in sunny Crete should cheer anyone up, you’d think, although she has some scary stuff waiting for her round the corner, which she doesn’t know about yet. It says so in my story notes though…I wonder if she’ll be sick when it gets really dangerous, or whether she’ll be able to handle challenges with more ease by then…?
Saturday started early. The coach left Cirencester at 05.10, which meant I had to leave at half past four. Isn’t it interesting how an exciting day out means that getting up at four is no problem whatsoever?! I would hate to do it every day…
The coach was in time, and comfortable. I dozed most of the way there, checking emails and Facebook as I went along. London was busy as usual, and the noise is always a bit of a shock! Walking into the large station I had another shock, a pleasant one this time. There was a tiny HEMA! Selling all things Dutch… So before I knew it I was toting two bags. Somehow travelling light never works out for me. I had one heavy bag already with my tablet, snacks, diary, more snacks in case I really got hungry, more paper as I might need it… Now I had another bag full with Dutch food!
The conference was near Holborn, so I had plenty of time for breakfast. I found a lovely Swedish place, with the most amazing cinnamon swirl ever. It was the perfect place for breakfast, apart from the Swedish prices… Whilst having the large coffee that actually tasted like coffee, an email came in. From the Publishers!
Sadly they explained that my manuscript wasn’t quite what they were looking for, as Christian fiction is hard to sell etc etc. They were very nice about it; I just wonder how dreadful they thought the manuscript was… They did recommend another Publisher though, so it can’t have been too dreadful, unless they can’t stand the other publisher, and this is their way of taking revenge? You know, send all the awful manuscripts to them…flood them with trash…?
So I googled the Publisher, and wrote a synopsis of the book. It’s actually quite hard to do, for what is essential to the story, and what isn’t? It was especially hard as I really enjoyed writing the story, remembering Zahra and her ups and downs. Before I knew it, it was time for the conference! So I grabbed all my bags, and wandered off, using Google maps to show me the way. As I got there I saw a few people I recognised, which was great!
The conference itself was very useful, and I met some wonderful people. The whole writing territory is new, and there are so many interesting angles to it all. New jargon, new names, new vocab. Plenty of coffee to keep me going though!
The journey back was just as quick, and again I slept for most of the journey, in spite of my writing plans… Just one little bit of excitement as the coach got coned in somewhere in the middle of Swindon. The driver took us down a road to drop off several people, then some road worker placed cones behind and in front…and refused to move them! After calling the police another roadworker saw sense, and just moved the cones long enough for the coach driver to turn us round…!
My first Writers’ Day, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, looking forward to NaNoWriMo even more now!
Tomorrow morning I’m off to my first Writers’ Conference. “Oh, are you a writer?” is people’s reaction when I explain that I won’t be around on Saturday. It feels rather fake to say, “Yes, I have just written down my first novel, and it’s at the Publishers, and they are looking at it.”
The idea of the team of reviewers wading through my eighty three thousand words is rather embarrassing, as it’s the first time I have written something like that. I also realised that I used tons of adverbs…I like adverbs, but apparently they are a no no… There are also many other hidden traps and pitfalls it seems, so the next few days could be interesting. It’s like a game of minefields, and I always dread the sudden shock of the little squares blowing up. It usually happens when the game is going along nicely, and you start to think ahead to maybe doing a bigger Minefield square…
Tomorrow is different though. Tomorrow I will be in London, a treat in itself! The conference sounds very interesting; it’s like exploring a new world! Fortunately, there are a lot of very kind and helpful people in this new world… The talks sound very good, and I like workshops, even though I have no idea what I’m letting myself in for. There are plenty of coffee breaks, which makes me hope that I’m amongst people who get their priorities right. I love writing, for it has opened up so much for me, and even the children have caught on now! It’s all about stories in our house at the moment, and we’re all eagerly awaiting the first of November when we can all get down to business, and start writing down our daydreams!
So I am looking forward to the conference. I love meeting new people, and I love books, so it should be a wonderful day! And maybe I will learn about a few more mistakes to be avoided at all cost, just in time for NaNoWriMo. So who knows, my second novel might not be as embarrassing as the first one undoubtedly is!
Finished
At least for now, although thinking about it, it’s probably only just started! Maybe I should just say, “I have written the very first draft of my very first complete novel.” It was an incredible feeling though, to see all the chapters put together, with a word count of more than 83 thousand… People around me have been so positive and supportive, but now it’s up to the Publishers! I sent off the manuscript of my novel, still struggling with the title… I have called it Bellcombe Heritage, as I really have no idea what else to call it!
Now I’m just waiting, checking my email regularly, dreading to see the words, “Sorry, but this manuscript would need to change 90% to make it work…” or words to that effect… I keep telling myself that it’s not finished, and will need lots of work, no doubt. It’s hard to see where the changes will have to be though, as we see our writing differently from those around us. I absolutely loved writing the story, and feel that really the main character’s story is by no means finished. If I had continued, it would have been a different story altogether. It’s hard to let go, and to feel that this part of her life is finished, the story of her life at this time is finished.
My concern is that a rejecting will be the finish of my enjoyment of the story. I know it shouldn’t be, as I have just loved doing it. Will it feel as if I have liked the wrong thing though? Like thinking the world of a person, watching their shows etc, and then they get arrested, and it’s as if you have liked a lie all the time. You look back on the great moments, and suddenly they’re not great anymore, for it was based on lies.
Well, finished with the gloom, and I will remind myself that I enjoyed the writing, and I particularly enjoyed thinking from the character’s perspective, answering questions about trust, faith and God from her viewpoint. Very enriching, as well as encouraging. Now I’m looking ahead, thinking of the next story…
