That Festive Thing,

First off, this blog is going to feel like a confessional again, I haven't been writing as much as I know I should since losing the novel, but I think that it's understandable. I'm trying not to dwell on how horrendous it was, and how bad it mad me feel and blah blah blah, but it does sometimes feel like every time I pick up a pen (or set myself up with the laptop - you know, the figurative meaning of picking up the pen) I get lost in the feeling that this could so easily go missing, too, and that hurts. That is something really hard to overcome. 

However: 

I am happy that I made it home for Christmas this year - particularly because I made it home a few days early thanks to the Virgin Train strike that ended up being cancelled. I was able to work from home for a few days and that was actually quite nice - even when the dog was tapping my leg to let me know that he needed some attention.

I'm really happy that I didn't have to lug a case full of presents back to my parents' house whilst stressing as to whether people would like things (after hours of stressing in the shops when I bought the damn things) because I opted to buy charity presents instead. One of the other great things about that is that it's the person on the "receiving" end who looks bad if they object, however the best part is knowing that, despite the fact that there has been a lot of crap this year (and trust me, I know, it has often been overwhelming) it's not too hard to make things that little bit shinier, and there are a lot of people who will. 

Realistically, this is probably going to my last blog of this year, so see you all in 2018. Catch you next year!

To Mourn a Loss of Something Most Wholly, (Lost for Words)

I didn't think I was going to write this, but now I realize I need to.

I'm not going to be so arrogant as to say I need to write it for anyone who may need to read it - if I can be the cautionary wail, great, but that is not the purpose of this. The purpose of this is what most of my writing is; it is my catharsis.

Before NaNoWriMo started this year, I was excited. I'm a bit of a geek, so I always am, and I mean geek in the traditional sense of the word - not the it's emblazoned on the front of a sweat shop produced t-shirt and mass sold as fashion to people who would have used it as an insult kind of sense.

I had it in my head that I wanted to smash what I consider to be my record, my PB if you will (or if you won't, it's my blog) of 19 days. 19 days hurt. I got ill after those 19 days, but it was an adrenaline rush that most people wouldn't associate with writing a novel; I'm glad I get to be one of the people that knows better.

Anyway, tenacious is definitely an adjective people would use about me, and tenacious I was. I scrapped a whole 11 days off of my PB and "won" on the evening of day 9 in the café of Foyles book store. It was beautiful. It was perfect. I enjoyed it immensely.

Now, this was not an easy feat. I am still an ML so I was attending a huge string of events, I hadn't taken leave from work, so was still working my normal day job, though not my usual hours as my managers are incredible and let me have some flexibility, but I fit writing 50000 words into 9 days of my life. I felt like the steamiest pile of animal droppings you can imagine - I was wrung out, but God, I was happy. I kept having these little panics where I woke up in the middle of the night and thought "I need to back this novel up" then would decide to do it in the morning as bed was warm and comfortable and laptop was in living room and that far. Yes, words dropped out of my thought process so you can almost tell how tired I was. Each time I had picked up or touched the laptop in that 9 days the goal was simple and attainable only with remarkable focus. Unfortunately that meant that I was so engrossed in writing and remembering to save that I forgot to save a back up...

This is the point where I wish this were a horror story I was writing. I wish I could skip back a couple of chapters and scrawl THE MC THREW BACK HER BED CLOTHES, CLAMBERED DISCOORDINATELY OUT OF THE BED AND SAVED BACK UPS OF THAT FILE ON EVERY USB DEVICE SHE OWNED but she didn't. I didn't.

In the afternoon/evening of the eleventh day of NaNo, I closed the laptop lid, put it into my bag and thought nothing of it. I went home and I didn't plug it in. It lost power over the weekend and when II came to loading it up on the Tuesday night for a writing session, it was already gone, and so were any hopes of retrieving it. 

Now, I have a magnificient army of friends who rallied like I have never seen anyone rally to try and revive this file. They weren't going to let it go down without a fight, but it was too late. It kind of felt like simultaneously watching a car crash in slow moyion and super speed and reverse. It was nothng short of a shit show and I had no clue how to react. 

That's not wholly true. There was only one reaction, and I wish I could say that I wasn't in public when the crying started and I was on the phone to my mum wailing about how it was gone. I probably sounded like a four year old who had lost their bear, but in that moment, there was no greater loss to me than this novel. There are still very few things which I feel more of a sense of the loss of. 

The worst thing, to me, because I can be a bit odd about these things, is that this loss is undescribable. Devastated does not cut it. Heartbroken, nowhere near. Even to state that I feel heartshattered and inconsolable does not convey the gravity of how I felt, and the problem with that was it made me doubt myself. I sincerely thought, though have since brought myself to reason, sincerely believed that if I were unable to convey something of that immensity, something which was so inherently a part of me, what that loss meant, to my mother, what good could this novel have been anyway? If I couldn't ensure that she understood my helplessness, my need to change the unchangeable, move the unmoveable, my need to face a different reality than the one which I was presented with (though the only reality I really wanted was the one I had been writing on my laptop) how on earth could I convey a made up idea to a reader? My only conclusion then was that I couldn't. My conclusion now is that I was hysterical, and not in my usual haha sense. Hysteria had overtaken and no one can understand a hysterical person, much less take them seriously when they are professing that they shall never write again. Granted, had anyone told me I was hysterical and it would all be better in the morning, I would have been highly likely to throw something heavier than one of my shoes at them.

I probably still couldn't put that loss into words. I'm trying, but this is more like, these are the events, rather than a this is how it felt. I am mourning the loss. No one died, but it felt like someone did. It still does. I don't trust my laptop right at this moment - mature, I know. I wake up and am excited that it's still NaNo and I won already, and then I remember, my novel is gone. I had a few moments, no, hours, of not really even feeling like a writer anymore. I have picked up the pen to go back to it, but I'm writing around it. Part of me cannot bring myself to jump back in and re-write the parts I had already done. This wasn't some half baked first draft - one of these ideas has been forming for the past year, and the other. The other is what I would imagine a somwehat life long stutter feels like. It is that sentence I have always wanted to say, but it doesn't come out right; it has never quite fit. This was the first time that I didn't think the character was periodically being a petulant child. This was the first time I didn't think her partner was an arsehole of epic proportions that she should ditch almost immediately and find someone who, if not intelligent, at least looking a bit Godly so she can just admire them even if they never say anything remotely worth listening to. I was excited to start editing. I was excited about this entire project and I have to admit that for the past almost a week, lukewarm would have been a gross over estimation of my feeling towards it. But as Freddie said, the show must go on. 

Nothing can change that I won this year. Nothinng can change that I did it in 9 days. Nothing can change the fact that I knocked out a 20k day and it barely even hurt. The novel is gone, but it will not be forgotten, only revised. It's not okay, but I will be. 

It still greatly winds me up though that one of the novels in this project is called All is Not Lost, but actually, most of it is.

And on that note, I will catch you later.

Oh, Balls,

Is November really that close? Already? Are you quite sure? Oh dear, oh dear, oh balls. 

I was ready 2 days ago, but this always happens. I feel like I'm hitting the peak too soon and I am ready for NaNoWriMo to start early and then, this happens. This being the craziness of feeling like the world is about to crumble, catch fire and ultimately end because Jesus H. Christ why am I doing this to myself all over again? WHY? 

I'll tell you why - I thrive on the madness. 

Every year I tell myself I will be a good girl and prepare myself for the impending craziness, like stretching when you want to exercise. I will prepare myself for what's about to happen to me and then every bloody year I go, nah, sack that and pants it like Superman. It is never a very good plan. 

This time around feels no different, though having cool news digs is making it feel slightly more sane, I don't have a freezer big enough to store all of the pizza I could possibly need to last the duration of this month, which is less than brilliant. I also did a potentially silly thing and joined a gym. Unlike most people, if I'm paying to be a member of the gym, I will attend it, but the problem I have there is that I naturally won't be able to write whilst doing so (maybe with my phone on the treadmill or the bike, but I am pretty sure that would factor into a list of weirdest places to write in so maybe not) so it is either going to cut into my writing time or my sleeping time and my sleeping time already takes a hit during NaNo. Oh this is just going to go wonderfully, isn't it? 

I'm really looking forward to this now...

Catch you later

Oh, Bums,

Bums, what chapter were we up to? Had the protagonist moved into her stylish new apartment in town? I think she had. In fact, I think she was on her "holiday" back to her childhood home to look after Prince Pupperington...Well children, in tonight's chapter...

Okay, I don't think that voice suits me. 

Since writing last I have regained residence in my lovely flat, had my mother visit for the weekend, then the following weekend had both my parents visit, however that did lead to the acquisition of some glorious furniture and probably an extra couple of pounds of tummy flubber due to the Wetherspoon's breakfast. Ah, 'spoons.... 

The great thing about that is that I actually started feeling like this is nothing like student digs, and it is instead becoming an actual, adult apartment. Clearly, we can't be having that, so I got a pet.

This year has raced by, and quite frankly, I haven't cared really. Roll on the bit where I get to turn 25 - I hate even numbers. (Yes, I know, it's weird, but it's a thing.) However, I am not quite ready for NaNo to roll on quite so quickly.

Last year, my novel became my catharsis. My new job exposed me to a lot that I didn't know how to cope with and to say that I did cope with it would be a lie. I struggled, and it was because of that struggle that I was so glad to get my current role because part of it is to address that kind of struggle. (That was cryptic and vague, but I can't really say anything more.) As is often the case, I explored how I felt about some things in that novel and was able to express myself more capably in fiction than in any other form. The problem is that it does come at a cost. Last December I was really proud to have participated in my seventh NaNoWriMo, winning my sixth. Like the previous year, it was only one day early, which was such a distance behind on Day 19 in 2013, but things had changed. I wasn't a student anymore and last year I was MLing, working in one of the two best jobs of my career so far and also trying to write one of the hardest novels I have ever tackled. 

Clearly, I am insane because I am going to do it again. 

This year I am going to be just under a month into a new job (better than one day in, but not by much), will be MLing for a massive region that is also taking on new challenges (read the Facebook or the NaNo Forums) and will be taking on the continued challenge of that stupid book that part of me really regrets ever starting. It's quite a small part though. 

The problem with it is that it felt like several things I have been wanting to write for a very long time finally coming together in a bit of a series and that's difficult because it would be really nice to have something I could just crack out in 30 days and then pretty much forget about if I really wanted to, but no. This isn't going to be that task or book or series or whatever I want to call it. 

Joy to the world, I have created another mountain to climb. NaNo is coming, look busy. Catch you later. 

One Second Whilst I,

Every time I leave the room and my dog has to entertain himself for 30 seconds, I always tell him I'll be back in a minute. Whilst he doesn't sit there staring at his watch (most likely because he doesn't have one) waiting for me to return, I know that dogs do have a sense of time if you always stick to a timed routine that they can learn; he always knows the exact time my dad should be home, and he sits in the window sulking if he isn't there.

It's weird because I am used to being so very independent, and never having to explain where I am going to be, so it's rather strange to have to explain myself to a small animal in order to leave a room. Granted, he looks at me with his sad eyes which ask me not to go. 

Part of the problem is that Ted gets freaked out by a lot of things and it makes him very reactive. He's reactive when we leave him, around other dogs and apparently to me talking about him because I tend to speak these things out loud. Also, God help us if there are dogs barking on the TV. 

Something that not many people, dog owners included, know is that although they might have the loveliest dog that they could have, if they are a little over amorous when they approach my little dude, they're going to freak the living daylights out of him and he's going to bark. There's a company which produces yellow leads, collars, harnesses and scarfs to signal that the dog attached is anxious, however a, Teddy is not that bad if we handle him in a particular way and b, not enough people know what the yellow means and with the leads, you need to be pretty close before you can actually read what it says. 

Today, we met a little ginger cocker spaniel puppy who I fell a little bit in love with (but don't tell Teddy) and he was hyper as anything. Now, I knew that Ted and I could just have let him and his dad walk on without us and clear the way, and it would have been fine. We would have had a short walk, not have seen too many other dogs and would have been back to the house in time to get Ted in the bath and clean by lunch time, but we didn't do that. Instead, I settled Ted with the little tyke and then let them off the leads together. Granted, there were still a few points where he was being a little bit nervous (read: acting like a tit and forgetting how to play) but they were playing and running around, and were then joined by a lovely black Labrador. 

Though to be honest, I am just really glad that when we ran into a dog who had previously bitten Teddy, she kept away from him when he barked at her, because I wanted to avoid having to pick him up every time he is nervous. 

Anyway, catch you later. 

I Never Thought That,

Someone that was here when I grew up recently reminded me of how naive I used to be. Much as I would love to point out she didn't know me then and definitely doesn't now, I guess that there is a certain amount of truth in it and maybe still is...

A perfect example of that happened today. 

I had always assumed that people who abused animals knew what they were doing, and they knew it was wrong, but they did it anyway for unknown reasons. I thought I would never see someone do this, because why would they? Why would you abuse an animal in front of an animal lover? Or better, why would you do it at all? 

As I have mentioned before, I gave up eating meat over a decade ago and that was because I love animals. I love them all - maybe not equally, but still. And before anyone says anything spiders do not count; especially if they are in my bedroom. HOWEVER, when my dog is sick, I cook chicken for him, because it's what he needs to get better. (Bloody shih-tzus and their rubbish stomachs.) Even when he is well, I will put his dinner out which is basically meat, meat, more meat, bit of rice, some veg and blend. I don't take issue with this, because I know that dogs would pretty much always choose a meaty option over a veggie option. I love him enough to get over the whole handling meat thing, for him, even if it's not ideal for me. 

Now today I was walking the little fluff, and he has been really vocal in his disapproval of certain other dogs. Not being with him 24/7, I don't know all of the dogs that he has an issue with, so I'm being somewhat overcautious with the bigger ones that could actually do some damage to him. That being said, I make sure he is within grabbing distance so if he starts something, I can finish it. 

Today we came across a man with two big dogs. He has one lead in each hand, but the dogs looked like they were trying to pull him in half, meaning it was a little bit difficult to get Ted out of the way, but as we approached and I pulled Teddy into a short lead, he did pull the one on our side closer to him to give us space to give him a wide birth. Now, Ted wasn't always so yappy with other dogs, and this mouthing off hasn't come from a specific event so far as we can tell, so I'm trying, the best that I can, to socialise him a bit better and hopefully calm him down a little bit, so I let him approach the dogs for a sniff, until they all started barking at each other, and one of the other dogs - thankfully the one who was furthest away from us - started growling. 

Like I said, I keep Teddy in grabbing distance, so he was away from them quickly, I had the hold of the back of his harness and then he was in my arms within seconds and then I was getting us the heck back to the house. I looked back because I could hear the guy yelling at his dog, which I already thought was a bit unnecessary, but what I saw then made it worse. Not only did he hit the dog twice, he then started whipping the dog, who was cowering on the floor, with the lead of the other dog who he had, by then, let off of the lead.

After the whole thing of reporting this to the appropriate people, I still couldn't get it off my mind, because I can't help but feel that any time you have to hit your animal to regain some semblance of control over it, you have failed as a pet parent. And if you feel the need to not only use your hands, but employ some form of weapon against your animal, then you are the problem, not the animal. If that dog has previously gone to bite other animals or a person, why on Earth does he not walk him in a muzzle? Why on Earth does he walk him on a pathway which is highly frequented by dog walkers? This happened on the same day as another dog walker went off this path with a muzzled greyhound when he saw other dogs in the area. 

I know for some people that this might be a small issue, but it is just the latest in a line of crappy things and it's also one of the small things that add together to be a big issue. The way we treat animals and women and the environment and communities and property, well all of it adds up. Okay, so smacking your dog for growling and going for a smaller dog is nowhere near as bad as intensive farming or the killing of sea life which occurs in several countries around the globe, but it's the same problem attitude that women are lesser. Telling women that they belong in the kitchen as a joke and allowing girls to be married and have children in their early teens aren't the same thing, but both are products of the belief that gender has a bearing on our value, purpose and abilities (shouldn't have to say this, but IT ABSOLUTELY DOESN'T!!!!) Dropping litter does not equate to dropping bombs anywhere you fancy, but you kind of see where I am going here... 

Anyway, my point is that the little things matter, be they animal, vegetable or mineral. Catch you later. 

My Little Flour,

Whilst being at my parent's house, I have been watching old episodes of The Great British Bake Off and thinking about things that I would like to try out baking and it has made me think again about how people prioritise different things when they are baking. 

Bake Off does seem to want all of these wonderful and gorgeous bakes, and a lot of variety. 

I for one have absolutely never made any kind of bread - unless calzone pizza dough counts and even that went badly. I'm much more of a sweet tooth baker, but for the most part that is just alcoholic loaf cakes or rather simple flavoured cakes that I refuse to ice in anything other than butter cream because I cannot pipe icing for toffee, and I hate royal icing. If I'm baking it, I'm going to be eating some of it, so why would I dress it up in something that tastes that revolting? Don't get me started on marzipan either - that stuff is the work of the devil. 

Truth be told though, I would really like to spend more time in my kitchen, arguing with recipes and making more cake and other things. I feel like I would really enjoy (or be really stressed by) baking a Charlotte Royale, however it is something I will have to do at some point. I'm really quite excited about it, which is bad because it won't be any time soon. 

I think that the next thing which I will really enjoy is I'm going to pull out the book cake tin and rustle something up for the beginning of NaNo. I can't promise that there will be many book cakes, but there should be a couple. And knowing me they will be fantastically over the top. 

Catch you later.