The New Forest

I'm standing outside Soup Vintage in Lymington - it had just stopped raining, and so I'm a bit rained-on and windblown. Didn't find anything to take home with me (lots of 70s polyester), but it was a lovely shop. We had a cup of coffee at The Buttery down the road, where the scones were like little boulders. We gamely swallowed them down anyway (stiff upper lip and all that. They could easily have been used as battle scones by Discworld dwarfs), and I think they might lodge in our small intestines until we are very, very old.

LOML was much better today (thanks for the get-well wishes), and so we meandered about the New Forest, stopping at various little towns along the way: Lymington, Brocklehurst and Beaulieu, among others.
We saw dozens of New Forest ponies grazing at the roadside, and stopped to photograph a few. I tried to entice one to eat from my hand, but it ignored me. Rather ostentatiously, in fact. It kept turning its back on me and looking away, as if we had had an embarrassing one-night-stand several months ago and it was pretending it didn't recognise me.


P.S. Happy birthday to BestFriendAlly! She is twenty-two today. Sorry I can't be there, and I hope you have a fantastic day.

Rambling about England

Another day in England! It has been so lovely spending time with my family, and it's so good to be back in the country that is really the closest thing I have to a home.

This is where I was born. My mum moved in with my grandparents after my father died, and they are like a second set of parents to me. We moved back to Zimbabwe when I was four, but we visited every year.

I lived here again for a few months when I was fifteen, in 2000. My parents sent me overseas when the violence against whites in Zimbabwe was at its height. They stayed behind. I had almost no notice - it was the school holidays, I remember, and I was still finishing my art portfolio for the next term. Another white farmer was murdered, someone we knew, and my parents booked a ticket to England for me the next day. I said a hurried goodbye to all my friends, was pulled out of school, and left the country. At that point, I did not think I would be coming back. I lived here with my grandparents, calling my parents whenever I could (and whenever the phone lines were working). Despite all the worry about people back home, I remember it as one of the happiest times in my life. I wrote my first 'proper book' here, the one that was published in Zimbabwe a couple of years later. I had much greater independence, as well, because it was safe for me to walk into the village and take buses (in Zimbabwe we were very much confined within our security fences, and it wasn't safe to go out on one's own). I did go back to Zimbabwe, in the end, but to the International School instead of the local one. My family stayed here again for a couple of months in 2002, when we left Zimbabwe for good. It was a chance to rest and catch our breath before we left for New Zealand.

Anyway, this country has always been a safe haven for me, and I feel more comfortable here than anywhere else in the world. Even Zimbabwe - although I spent thirteen years of my life there, it was as unpredictable as it was beautiful, and I didn't feel the same sense of security. It's really good to be back.

The other Christchurch

Looking a bit awkward here - passers-by were staring! Today we drove into Christchurch - the sister city of Christchurch, New Zealand. Even the rivers that run through both cities have the same name - the Avon. Christchurch is one of my favourite places, and it's where a lot of my early memories are set. One of the things I love most about England is all the history, and Christchurch is a great example of that - the Priory is a thousand years old. I still can't quite wrap my mind around that. Every building, road and hedgerow in England is criss-crossed with myths, poetry, history and legends. You can read the landscape like a book. In a way, as a writer, this is intimidating. How do you write about a landscape that so many others have littered with their words before you, over thousands of years? I greatly admire the British writers who have brought something new to the literature of the islands, but I'm glad to be from a place that is still relatively new in artistic terms. Well, Zimbabwe and New Zealand both are (comparatively).

I explored the eight or nine wonderful charity shops on the High Street, and came away with a great haul of two dresses and a skirt. I'd show them to you, but they're in the wash as we speak - my grandmother was very worried about cooties. Or something. LOML and I visited the ruins of Christchurch Castle, and managed to take a couple of photos before the ominous clouds soaked us with rain.

Solid ground

Thank you for all your good wishes and messages during our travels! We arrived last night after 36 hours of sitting in metal tubes of various descriptions, feeling exhausted, shell-shocked and filthy. The second flight was a couple of hours longer than the first, and felt interminable. LOML and I were near the window, and the man on the aisle seat drank glasses of Scotch all through the flight. The smell of Scotch is a powerful one at the best of times, and it's even worse in a confined aeroplane cabin. Luckily, though, no one vomited on me this time (it has happened before). Such a relief to finally land! We sat in the coach station for a while watching various mangy London pigeons fight for crumbs (apparently they release trained hawks in the station regularly to catch them), then made the three-hour coach trip down to Highcliffe. After a shower and a good night's sleep, I feel much more like a human being. No jet-lag yet! I think I may have escaped it this time.

Today we have been relaxing and catching up with my grandparents and great-grandmother. My great-grandmother is 98, but hasn't changed a bit in all the years I have known her. She's a very elegant lady - when we arrived last night she had just finished painting her fingernails a glossy red, in honour of our visit! We walked down to the sea this afternoon (as you can see in the picture), and unpacked. Our room is just lovely, and the little wardrobe is already full of all my paraphernalia.

I'm sorry if this is a little incoherent - I think my brain is still somewhere over the Pacific! It will arrive eventually. Thanks so much for all your comments, and I hope to catch up with all your blogs very soon.

Hong Kong!

We have just arrived in Hong Kong, after about 14 hours of travel, two flights and four hours of sleep. We're just about to board our flight to Heathrow ... Another 14 hours! Whee. We look and feel like manky old socks, but we're having a great time. So hot and humid here! We can see dozens of high rise buildings out of the airport window.

Boarding call! Off we go for the next leg of the journey.

A digression: 10 reasons why you should not invite me to your Important Family Gathering

1) I will say the wrong thing a lot and make inappropriate jokes.

2) I'm an introvert by nature. I can play nicely with others for a couple of hours, but then I really need to be by myself and recharge. Ideally in a corner somewhere, with a book. Unfortunately you can't really do this once you're an Adult.

3) I am not domestically skilled under pressure. I will offer to help with dinner, but I would really rather you didn't take me up on this offer. Such things as chopping vegetables and laying the table can end in creatively disastrous ways when I am nervous. I will make silly mistakes and drop things and possibly cause a civil emergency.

4) I am weird about using other people's bathrooms, especially in the middle of the night when it's all silent and the flushing sounds like thunder.

5) I am awkward when hugs and kisses on cheeks are expected.

6) I am weird about eating certain foods and get anxious at big family dinners where those foods are served and I will offend people by not eating them. My throat closes up and I have a panic attack and have to pretend I'm allergic to things.

7) I will remember the time you all thought I was pregnant (out of wedlock, no less!) and a Woman of Questionable Morals, and a feeling of Cringe will wash over me.

8) I will forget things that you told me the last time I saw you - "How's Frank? He's dead? I was at the funeral? Oh. Sorry."

9) I will consistently forget the names and ages of people's children.

10) I probably forgot to send someone a birthday card, and this information will surface at some point during the gathering. It will then prompt a discussion of all the other birthday cards, thank you notes, engagement presents and holiday wishes that I have not sent over the years.

(Normal bloggy service will resume shortly).

By hand

Oh dear, I've been unintentionally absent for a few days. Thanks so much for all your comments on my last post - a lot more of you than I expected have never seen those television shows either! I feel better about my living-under-a-rock-ness. And, as expected, I fell completely in love with Pushing Daisies (we couldn't find Mad Men). Such a gorgeous, surreal show. Amelie-influenced, possibly? It's so refreshing when you come across good writing on television. There are some wonderful shows out there, but, sadly, a ridiculous amount of them get cancelled far too early. I can now understand the outcry when Pushing Daisies was cancelled, and I'm still grieving for Firefly.

I've been away from the blogosphere because of general busy-ness caused by preparing for our trip. I can't believe we're leaving next Friday! It doesn't seem real. I also can't believe that I'm going to be meeting my agent and editor. In a way, it still feels like it never happened - I think this is because all the communication has been through email. Part of me (the neurotic part, which is a large and powerful part) thinks that it might all be a hoax, or that I imagined it. I re-check the emails every so often to make sure, but meeting Vivien and Liz will make it concrete. Which is exciting, and also terrifying!

Working in longhand is really helping me at the moment. I became very stressed about my first draft a couple of weeks ago, after I discarded those dreadful 10,000 words. I put a lot of pressure on myself to catch up as quickly as possible. Since my brain is a small child, it rebelled and resisted in every way possible. Writing longhand has provided a great solution. It might not work for everyone, but it works for me. Perhaps it will help you, too

Why writing longhand makes a difference

1) My handwriting is dreadful, particularly when I'm writing fast. I vividly remember my Grade Three teacher pointing at me and saying in front of the whole class, "Your handwriting is disgusting!" She also told me off for holding my pen 'wrongly.' I still hold it that way and, yes, it looks pretty strange, but it does the job. Anyway. Sometimes it can be hard to decipher what I've written. In deciphering the handwriting as I type up the day's pages, however, I automatically edit my work. It also makes me think about each word I have written, as I have to transcribe it from one medium to another.

2) My hand is slower than my mind, and it can be frustrating trying to keep up with my thoughts and get them all done in time. On the other hand, it forces the brain to slow down, which can be a very good thing. I can immerse myself in my work more easily than when I type.

3) I don't need to lug a laptop around and worry about it being broken or stolen. I did have a scary moment this afternoon, however, when I realised that I had left my notebook on a sofa in the cafe (cue desperate sprint back). I suppose people are highly unlikely to steal a notebook full of indecipherable gibberish, though.

4) My writing changes. I pay more attention to each word and sentence because they take so much longer to create. I am more aware of the music and rhythm of it, because I have slowed down to such an extent that each sentence sounds and echoes in my head as I write it. I suppose it's rather like listening to a book on tape, while typing on a screen is more like watching a movie.

5) I find it easier to finish an entire scene. When I'm writing in Word or yWriter, it's easy to move back and forth between different scenes. Sometimes I'll just write one or two sentences, a quick outline, and then leave the scene for later. This is rarely a good idea - I find, for me, it is best to write in the fervour of the moment, when I am still excited about it. Writing longhand means that I can't refer to other sections of the book and distract myself from the scene on which I'm working.

6) There's a physicality to writing in longhand as opposed to writing on a computer that is very satisfying, and quite freeing. I'm more involved with my materials, like a little kid happily squishing around with finger paints. I know that I am 'making something' when I type, but it feels much more like 'making something' when I can see the ink moving through the pen and feel the scratch and scrape of the nib on the paper.

7) The book I am writing is told in first-person. It feels very natural to write in longhand for this particular project because I am transcribing a character's thoughts. Writing longhand feels more 'real', like writing a diary.

8) It reminds me of the days before I had a computer to write on, when I was small. I would spend hours filling up exercise book after exercise book with stories and illustrations and maps. There's a secret, childish joy in doing this again now.

9) I am a very visual person, and I struggle with the black-and-white-ness of writing. Black words, white screen. I see the events unfolding like a movie in my head, but when I emerge from the fugue state and look at the screen, it is not very inspiring visually. In a notebook, I can doodle little pictures and patterns. I can make fancy illuminated letters at the beginning of sections, and draw little maps. It is great fun.

10) Since I am not at the computer, I can't indulge in my beloved Internet distractions!

11) Ideas seem to flow more easily when I'm writing in longhand. I am not sure exactly why. I think it may be because sitting at a computer feels like 'work'. I can check my word count, see what page I have reached, quantify my writing. On a real-life page, however, I can't be that methodical. It takes some of the pressure off, and lets my creative mind relax and fool around a bit more.

12) I write more. No idea why this happens. Again, perhaps it's because I can't endlessly check my word count? (word count is to Andrea as Vicodin is to House). Also, the inner critic isn't as vocal as it is when I am typing. I think this is because I can't backspace or re-write things as easily. I know I will be editing later and can't do it right away, so I relax and get on with the composition.

I found this fantastic blog post which describes the experience beautifully:

But when I write longhand, the experience is different. I think it is because that critical part of my brain is busy picking apart my handwriting (which truly is horrible) instead of my prose. It tells me that my handwriting is atrocious. And it gets the satisfaction of being right. But who cares? While it’s busy the words are just rushing out. And they’re not henpecked or second-guessed before they’ve had time to cool. They exist in a flawed, but pure state. This kind of prose has a feral power that seems to be lacking from the things I type. Maybe that’s not it, maybe it’s just harder to get my head in that effortless writing space when I use a keyboard. But whatever the case is, writing longhand makes it easier for me to reach a writer’s high. - Patrick E. McLean

I am not going to abandon my computer and writing software anytime soon, but this has been a very interesting experience. Does anyone else write in longhand? Why, or why not?

Ramblings about cheese and other things

I am having an uphill day of work. It's my own fault for taking a week off after the viva, really, and leaving the book to wander off on its own and fall in with a bad crowd.

After my epiphany the other week, I am a lot happier with the direction in which the book is going. When I get tired, I start to battle insidious cliches that - well, I would say weasel, but I am a fan of weasels - that snake their way into my narrative. Cliches are easier. They are shortcuts. Everyone can recognise the wise teacher-mentor, the sulky teenager, the smug married couple. Cliches are easy, flat, convenient things, like sliced and processed cheese. And equally tasteless. I realised a couple of weeks ago that I was venturing into cliched territory, and ended up cutting about 10,000 words. Now there's an enormous gap in the middle. A cliched plot device would be a marvellous way to slap a band-aid on this hole, but I'm resisting! I promise. No more quick fixes. It's hard slog all the way.

When I started work on Current Book afresh after finishing the Ngozi revisions, the words "be more ambitious" kept running through my mind. I think that it is our job, as writers, to always bite off more than we can chew. Or, at least, more than we think we can chew. (See how those cliches like to sidle in when you least expect them? Bastards!). Every new project you tackle should be harder than the last - otherwise, what will you learn? The book I'm working on now is difficult in new and inventive ways, and requires a lot more skill than the last. But that's how it should be, I think.

Working from home and staying sane

Lately a few people have been asking me how I stay disciplined while working from home. I would love to say that I get up at dawn every morning and work out for an hour before eating a bowl of muesli and sitting down at my desk for nine hours straight, but that would be an enormous lie. I did get up at 5am for a month or so, when I was finishing up some revisions, but I couldn't keep it up for long. Steely, self-denying discipline does not work for me. At least, not long-term. It only works for two or three days before I start to rebel and resist.

Working from home, for me, is like babysitting a small, highly excitable child who jumps up and down saying, "I want to stay in my pyjamas all day and eat ice cream for breakfast and play with my toys and watch movies and collect bugs in a jar!" Of course, sometimes it is all right to do these things. But then we also need to get some work done, don't we? So we cajole and persuade and even trick the small child into sitting quietly at a desk for a few hours.

Here are some of the other things that have been very helpful for me - in no particular order.

Be healthy

This may sound obvious, but go to bed at a reasonable time, drink plenty of water, eat healthy food and exercise. This applies to any job, of course, but I think it is (somewhat ironically) easier to mistreat your body when you are working from home. It's all right to pull an all-nighter now and then, but if you do it too often you will burn out. Healthy eating and exercise are also essential if you are a sedentary mammal like me. It's easy to snack on unhealthy things when the fridge is only a few steps away. Know your weaknesses! Mine is chocolate, and I have absolutely no self-control if there is a block of chocolate in the cupboard (LOML will back me up on this). So I don't have any in the house. This means that, if I feel a craving, I have to walk to the supermarket to get some.

(Of course, I do this about once a week. But it could be worse).

Get up and dressed in the morning as if you have a 'regular' job

Psychologically, this makes a huge difference. It's why I started a style blog - as a way to encourage myself to keep making an effort, even if no one sees me all day.

(If I'm feeling particularly uninspired, I'll wear a 'special occasion' dress. Usually adds a bit of sparkle!)

Set mini-deadlines

This works wonders for me, as I love nothing more than pottering about on the Internet and tweeting every few minutes. I set my cellphone alarm to ring in fifteen minutes' time, and then work furiously until it rings. I'm allowed a five minute break to check emails or indulge in any of my many online distractions, and then I set the alarm again. This usually results in two hours or so of very productive work before I need a longer break.

Keep up with the housework

I have a complicated relationship with housework. I am a clean freak, and, if I allowed myself to, I would spend hours scrubbing things that should probably never be scrubbed. To get work done at home, however, I have to relax my standards a little bit to avoid going crazy.

The curse of perfectionism is a tendency to 'all or nothing' thinking: "If I can't do it perfectly, there's no point doing it at all." The best way I've found to overcome it is to divide up the housework into daily increments. That way it's easier to maintain long-term, and it gives me a little sense of accomplishment at the end of each day. I found this website hugely helpful for tips and advice on organising my home.

One of the best habits I have managed to instill in myself is a good before-bed routine. I do all the dishes and put them away, straighten up the living room, wipe down the surfaces and pop a pot of coffee on ready for the morning. That way I can go to bed with a clear mind, and start my day with a clear mind too.

Get out of the house once a day

If you spend all day indoors, on your own, staring at a screen, you will start to gibber and foam at the mouth, the fabric of time and space will start to warp around you and you will go slowly mad. Trust me.

Work off a task list

Because you really, really need a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. I love ticking things off on a list. Sometimes I'll write something down that I have already done, just for the pleasure of ticking it off. I love my little word-count-o-meters too, and update them at the end of every working day.

Guard your time

Your time is precious, and you will be amazed how people - even people with the very best intentions - will try to fill it up with errands and chores and phone calls and impromptu visits because "your time is so flexible." Yes, your time is flexible, but you have the right to dictate exactly how flexible. I don't answer the phone when I'm working, and I have learned to suppress my people-pleasing compulsion and say "no" once in a while.

Allow plenty of time for pootling ...

... Also doodling, dawdling, playing, faffing about, pottering, daydreaming, lollygagging, puttering, idling and wandering.

If your work is creative, there's a limit to how disciplined you can be without burning out. You need to give your mind space to open up and breathe, and give it a chance to fill up with new images and experiences that you can use in your work. Otherwise you'll empty yourself out, and block. Spending time dreaming, imagining and thinking is just as important to the writing process as the more methodical tasks.

Nap

Naps are magical. I love them. If I start to feel overwhelmed, confused or stressed, a twenty-minute nap works wonders. Being able to have a little sleep during the day is one of the great perks of working from home, and you should not feel guilty for indulging in it.

Reward yourself frequently

Do something fun when you complete a task. Your inner small child is far more likely to behave if you offer it toys and treats when it has finished its homework. I like to finish my work by 4pm so that I can watch Spongebob Squarepants (I'm such an intellectual).

It's best to avoid regular food rewards, though, as that can become a very bad habit.

Break the rules sometimes

It is important for your sanity to take a day off occasionally. Go see a daytime showing of a movie, get a coffee, visit a gallery, feed the ducks. Be in the world for a while. It's nice outside.

I have returned!

It has been a completely crazy week. Thank goodness, however, that the worst of it is behind me. I was so nervous about my thesis defence, and I had a huge job to complete for a client that had to be finished by Thursday. Now I can collapse in a heap.

The viva on Wednesday went well. No thanks to me - I blathered on like an idiot and waved my arms about so much that I knocked things off my examiner's desk. I am definitely better at written communication, as blog readers who have met me in 'real' life will no doubt attest. It must have made sense overall, however, because I have been awarded the MFA with High Distinction. Hooray! BestFriendAlly has some suggestions over here as to what that might mean. (While I'm on the subject of BestFriendAlly, I'd also like to direct you to the post where she converted my cat Mink into a fearsome Transformer robot).

I went thrifting today to celebrate, but held back a little as I'm going to be spending the day with visiting blogger Scribbles on Monday, and I need to save some pennies! Also need to save for our trip, which is only three weeks away. Equal parts terrifying and exciting. I can't believe I'm going to be meeting with my publisher in London - it still seems unreal.

I have a couple of questions I'd like to ask you all, if you don't mind:

1) Are there any bloggers in the UK who would like to meet up for a coffee or the like? I'm staying in Christchurch, Dorset (and yes, that is why my family decided to move to Christchurch, NZ out of all the possible cities. Very logical reasoning there), but I'll be in London as well, and I'm sure I'll be venturing further afield.
2) LOML and I have decided to hop over to Berlin for a few days. We've never been, and we would love some recommendations of places to go and things to see.

Thank you!