Kill It With Kindness,

One of the most aggravating things to me is when people are needlessly rude or just take the arse-y route to get to somewhere. 

It happened last week with the delivery of new mattresses to our house - the delivery men were rude to my housemate because her phone wasn't working properly and they couldn't get in touch with her - and it happened to me today with someone on eBay, because I asked them if it would be alright if I had something delivered by courier, rather than having my friend need a four hour round trip in the car to go get it. 

Thing is, I work in retail, and I know that it's frustrating when you can't get in touch with people about an order, and I know that people asking questions can be somewhat frustrating, but there's a line. There is no need to be a total ass when I'm asking a simple question!! 

So, okay, maybe this guy doesn't want the hassle of arranging the courier, but the message I got back from him wasn't I don't mind if you use a courier, but with regard to this sale, it is your responsibility to arrange it, this was literally - do what you want as long as I get my money. I already knew that was his attitude, but there's no need to actually say it. I think some people don't realise that messages on eBay are exactly like interactions with customers face to face. You leave an impression on the customer and if it comes to the point where you get feedback from the customer, they are going to tell you what they think! 

I always remember to mention it when people combine feedback for me, or there was a point when someone said it was possible for me to have something collected instead of couriered. It was much simpler, and I was grateful. My brother even got a Christmas card from a seller once - with his item, so it wasn't strange... 

I've recently had a few problems with something I was purchasing on eBay and the person is going to know about it in their feedback, and if I end up buying this, I'm going to tell him what I think of his communication. 

Maybe I just need to get out of London for a bit. It makes me stroppier.

90,

So, after reminding myself with my last blog that I need to stop procrastiKNITTING, I have since managed to finish editing roughly half of the novel - content, not formatting unfortunately - watched far too many episodes of Grand Designs, come up with yet another design for the house I would like to build one day, which of course made me wish all over again that I was studying to be an architect and also managed to finish the back, the front and almost a full sleeve of a new jumper (baby sized). 

Whilst I know that my Knitsmithy ought to take a back seat to my Wordsmithy for a little while, it's more difficult to convince yourself to go on to review what you have previously done than it is to either knit more of a cutesy little hoodie or to stitch it together, and I think the reason is this. 

When it comes to Wordsmithy, it takes a lot of time and effort, and once done, you are best advised to leave it alone. When you have finished knitting something, you can give it away as a gift or just torture stuffed animals with what you have produced, and you can do it with the TV on without knitting the characters from The Big Band Theory or doing something equally ridiculous. In the space of a couple of weeks will have managed to produce three baby jumpers, two of which are adorable, one of which was my first attempt at knitting something to a pattern and there was more than once when I threw it on the floor and complained that I wasn't playing anymore because it was too big of a pain in the ass. Yes, I am a grumpy fool.

Even with half done, it is really difficult to focus on editing Yours, at the moment on account of the lack of sleep in my life, which is being caused by the really uncomfortable mattress. As is a custom with rented accommodation, our mattresses are at the point where they are sagging as you sit, so until the arrival of the new ones which have thankfully been ordered, I am resorting to sleeping on the airbed that I keep in case we have house guests, because my back doesn't take well to springs poking it at random intervals. 

At least it's now half way there...

In The Wake of NaNoWriMo,

So, it's now over a month since NaNoWriMo ended, and I can quite honestly say I haven't touched what I wrote since the day I hit fifty thousand words (19th November 2013). While that isn't a bad thing necessarily - I know many people that think the draft of a novel is like red wine, you have to give it time to breath - the fact that all I have done since then is a couple of handwritten pages in a notebook that seems to be going on forever is sort of playing on my mind. 

My thing is I have a very active imagination, and when I don't force myself to sit down and let some of the ideas come out in a constructive way, they form some pretty vivid and often pretty confusing nightmares. Now, you'd think that being used to this would mean I would convince myself to sit down and force myself to write for a set amount of time per day, but even during NaNoWriMo that's simply not how I work. Additionally, when I do decide to write and get very drawn in by something, I always have to go to bed before finishing writing something, because I'm too tired to carry on, and that also influences the things I dream about. 

Oh, and I always feel pretty burnt out after NaNo.

I am however thankful that now my urge to write has naturally returned, though I'm still struggling with convincing myself to edit Yours,. I feel like there is almost a fear surrounding it, and I'm not sure exactly what's causing that fear, because I accept it could be a great many things and most of them are pretty common to other writers as well. 

Editing means finally finishing something. In a way, it's the same as reading the last chapter of the book. Whilst you are still reading the book, the characters have an existence, they have a life, but as soon as the book is finished and put back on the shelf, whether the characters were living or dead by the end of the story, there existence ceases in a way. It's the same with writing.

I've been told a great many times that it would be a mistake to pick up a book you once wrote and re-read it, because for whatever good it could do you in identifying your style, your characters and all that sort of thing, you'll find bits you aren't happy with and things you could have done better, so when you finish the last edit on a book, it should be the last time you look at it, which can be quite saddening. 

Though characters are more like an early kind of Sims characters than most of us would like to admit, it is possible to become rather attached to them, and I very often do. There are definitely times where I have an intense amount of hate for my characters, and other times when the things I write about them make me want to have a little cry in the corner. I know that it's strange to try and understand, but they have an importance in my life for a while, however long or short, and then as if in a puff of smoke without any real provocation, they are gone. 

Then again, it's possible to say that I'm fearing the day that the printed copy of Yours, arrives on my doorstep, because as much as that day will mean to me, I then have to find a way to accept that it's no longer mine. When you first start a novel, or first write it, it gets to be all yours until you let someone read it. Unless you tell them, no one else may even know of it's existence. As soon as the printed copy arrives, it has already been through countless hands and you've had no say in where it goes, and as soon as you push the button that starts all the commands to do something with that book - whether it be load it into the Kindle store or Amazon, or even upload it to somewhere completely free - you are letting go of any sort of control of it. Anyone who wants to can access it, and say what they like about it, and you might hear it and that's a scary thing.

Which leads onto the inevitable really scary thing. Someone might call it trash. Someone might insult it or upset you, or use it against you, or see things in it that you think have no basis. Essentially, people can think and say what they like about it, and there's nothing you can do about it. 

Tough. 

I think most of you reading this will know that I've been in this position before, and I know how scary it is. The fact is, though it's going to take me a while, I'm going to get to the point where Yours, is out there and there's nothing I can do about it, and I'm going to be happy that it is.

I've been in the position where people have said things about my novels that I don't like or that hurt, and sometimes it's been by people who were pretty close to me, but the thing is, I know I have to take that with the good things that people say too; you can't close off your ears to an entire half of the argument. If you're sat teetering on the edge thinking should I, shouldn't I? The answer is going to be, yes, you should, because most of the time, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than you regret the things that you did, so go for it. Publish a novel, or a group of poems or short stories, or even just one. That thing you can do?, show it to people, because it is impressive and it is real. 

I know I need to give myself a rather large kick in the bottom to get this ready and finished, and I will, and you should to. 

Be proud of your wordsmithy. 

The Grand Days of Getting Old(er),

I know that things change as you get older; the priorities you had when you were a child disappear as you become a teenager, and then eventually that gives way to less and less mild forms of adulthood, but recently, I've been noticing it a lot. 

In the place of happiness from making a mess and eating a disproportionate amount of chocolate to what would be deemed healthy is now the joy that comes from cooking something which is more than just edible, or the sense of calm that comes from your house being clean as New Years passes. I can't explain how good it felt that when midnight came and went, much as it ever does when it's not celebrated by fireworks, I knew that the bathrooms had been drowned in the appropriate amount of bleach, the sofa had been hoovered and the kitchen sink had been scrubbed until it was almost the same colour as when it was in the show room (I will point out that that day was some time around twelve years ago). I'm even happier now that my room is properly clean thanks to my new hoover. 

The weird thing is, whilst I was still living at home, my mother had to withhold my pocket money in order to get me to do anything which resembled cleaning - except for rinsing my plate before putting it into the dishwasher, but I don't really count that. I'm now at the point where I can't focus on anything else unless something at least looks clean - well, the kitchen and the bathrooms anyway. My room doesn't get done unless someone is making me do it, or I have an assignment due. 

Pair all of that with the knitting I've been doing recently, I am honestly turning 90 on my next birthday. 

Back to Life,

If nothing else, Christmas and New Year's are great for the amount of down time the average person gets. Granted, if you're on shift work or your office is one of those open 365 and a 1/4 days a year, you don't get the same, but for a lot of people, it causes a week or two of lull in necessity, and you get a pretty decent break. 

Being in university means that I get about three weeks off, which is great. The fact that my university doesn't run January exams - which isn't actually such a great thing when you look at the fact that half modules from the Michaelmas term (last lectures for which are in mid December) aren't examined until May - means that the time off isn't earmarked for revision and stress. 

This Christmas, I went home for about five days, got caught up in the train traffic caused by all the "storms" (definition for those not in the UK: stronger winds than we are normally used to and a higher amount of rainfall), then finally got to come home to an empty house and a boyfriend who's off work until tomorrow. 

I'm not going to pretend it's all a walk in the park; we spent yesterday cleaning the house from top to bottom and with me tidying my room, which always puts me into a bit of a mood, but the great thing is that the time of year gave us that time together, that we don't normally get. These last few days are the most time we've spent together end to end, and it's been beyond brilliant. 

Granted, we brought in the new year with a bottle of cider (his) and a Radler (mine) watching The Hobbit  - the first one - but it was what we wanted to do. The great thing about that much time together, just the two of you, is that you only have to decide between yourselves. 

Since it's January 2nd tomorrow, he's back off to work, and really, in the spirit of a new year, a new start and all the bull**** I really ought to get back to some writing or editing or something roughly productive, other than knitting, so I guess it's back to life as normal in a way. 

And in the spirit of That, I'm going to get into my jammies, curl up on my side of the bed and watch a couple of episodes of Grand Designs. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you.

The Safe Space,

Well, after a rather Merry Christmas, I think it's time to get back down to business...

Anyone that's in uni now will probably have heard of this idea of a Safe Space. The idea is usually applied within a common area and it's the idea that harassment of any kind should not exist within such a space, and that in said space, everyone is free to be themselves. 

In a way, I think that university is pretty much a Safe Space in itself, even if it doesn't mean to be. Let's face it, in university there are a lot of things which are generally more acceptable than in other parts of life. Being a student has previously been compared to submitting to a form of voluntary vagrancy. With rent prices in dedicated student accommodation buildings being more than the average student can take in loans from the SLC, many students choose to extend their debt by getting overdrafts that are offered at an interest free rate (until you graduate...it's in the fine print). Being a student makes it pretty much socially acceptable to be in debt and be living off smart price beans and bread that you cut the mould off. Yes, I have seen it done.

It's also acceptable to move home for several months of the year and sponge off of rely upon your parents' exceedingly generous hospitality, even though you're still technically paying rent on your house/flat.

The thing that convinces me the most though is that for at least the first two years, it's completely okay to have absolutely no idea with this thing you've paid out an obscene amount of money for. It's pretty much socially acceptable for the only goal to be finish this bloody degree and then figure it out from there, and I think that's because of a universally accepted truth. The world outside of the lecture halls is a scary place. 

I've been thinking recently about the things I want to do with my life and the things I will have to do to achieve what I want to achieve. A lot of it is filling in forms and jumping through hoops to impress the right people so that they hopefully give me a job where I can feel useful and contribute in my own way, but the problem is, I'm still not sure what exactly I want to do. 

I've been doing all the normal things like looking into graduate programmes and conversion courses and further study and all of that sort of thing, but it's still not narrowing it down. All the while I'm looking for different ways to keep doing the things I love, but maybe find a way of making that into a job. 

Anyway, I'm going to retreat back into my Safe Space for a little bit, and try not to think about it. At least I can comfort myself knowing that no matter how desperate to work in some kind of writing career I am, I will never work for the Daily Mail. 

Eddie,

Am I going to end up posting this? Probably. I tend to find that I write these little rambles and then post them on the internet because there are things I found a few years ago that helped me through some of the not-so-fun parts of my life. 

Some of my older friends have this label for me that I think they reckon is a bit of a joke, but to be perfectly honest, I think it's kind of completely true. I get the label of a 'sensitive soul', and I used to hate it, but now I realise that it just comes out of the fact that I invest a lot of emotion in people. 

Just over two years ago, I lost a friend I went to college with. These things are never easy, of course, but he was the last person I spoke to from my college and he kept telling me how great things were going to be when I moved to London. I loved him so much for it, because I had had a crap day and he knew it and I hated that when he needed someone, I couldn't be there for him. 

This boy This man was loved a lot more than I think even he knew. So much has been done in his memory by so many people, and it makes a lot of sense, because he deserved it. He was a really great guy, and a few weeks after I learnt what happened to him, I searched out the recordings I had made of my lessons which we were in together, but I wasn't ready for what I found. 

He quite honestly got so over excited about a sandwich that I remember thinking, it's just bread with a filling down the middle, calm down kiddo, but the words that skipped out of his mouth were "You're a lovey person, and I love ya." I heard his voice say those words, and my brain got confused, so I was crying because of missing him, but I had this beaming smile across my face, because I wasn't scared anymore.

When you lose someone so many things fly through your head, and it's very easy to let them attack your memories of that person. It's very easy to lose sight of a person, and I did that, but that voice, those few words, they brought him back to me. Those words let me have my memories back and not question them, and now I don't have to play it from my computer to hear your voice, because it's in my memory, and it's staying there.

So to you Eddy, I hope that you know, you are a lovely person, and I love you. Oh, and Happy Birthday.