Tangible To Do Lists and Other Delights...

Kitchen wall of dreams...

Last week's Readers may need some closure. Ready? Here it is. I've still not put up my Christmas decs. It continues to be all quiet on the Christmas front round my way. At least I assume it is. I've not been there since Friday (more of that below) so I've no up-to-date data. Either way, my away-days in a city covered in lights, have kicked me up the arse. I'll be doing the tree as soon as I get back. That's my plan. Meanwhile in other seasonal news, I'm continuing to swerve the World Cup. I thought I'd miss it, but I don't. I'm sticking with Strictly, and I managed to ignore anything from the jungle. (Although Jill Scott won, which you wouldn't know from today's front pages.) My Christmas shopping's almost done and mostly wrapped, and I've made a tangible and user-friendly Festive To Do List. It's a bunch of Post Its, stuck on my kitchen wall, with a different Christmas task written on each one. The plan is to make it less overwhelming. Opening up a mofo of a list every time I want to check where I'm up to, can be a head-frig. And I've found it much more satisfying to rip off a Post It from the wall than score through a line of typing when a task's done. Just passing it on. #BondiesTips

My wares! Click here for 
all their marvellousness.

Writing News

First, a history lesson. This blog only began because the 'How To Market Yourself As A Writer' articles from around ten years ago, said it was essential. I'm not convinced it is. I mean, I like having a weekly deadline to write some published words, but I'm not sure it forces people to find me, discover my hidden depths, and rush straight to their choice of online book retailer to order my wares. (Obviously, if I'm wrong, here's a handy link for you. They make BRILLIANT Christmas presents.) But yeah, that was the plan. As you may well know, Subscribers get this email pinged into their inboxes at 11am every Monday. Then, after that, I post a link on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and as of recent weeks, Mastodon. That's my Monday morning routine. But now, since Twitter had it's meltdown, I've noticed a huge drop in blog views. The past three weeks have seen a clear difference. It's the same time period as the mass-exodus of Tweeters, along with technical upheavals that have gone on behind the scenes. It's made me realise how much Twitter was a driving force in directing traffic this way. So far, I've accepted it. There's nothing I can do. And I'm trying to up my Insta game which feels the most 'Buy My Stuff' social media out of the rest of them. But either way, it's an interesting development. For all the 'Lolz at the rich man wrecking Twitter' posts, there have been plenty of writers, creatives, and freelancers that have been adversely affected. Twitter was pretty useful once. Especially for writers trying to hustle.

Daniel Craig's beachwear is worth
the Netflix subscription alone.

Culture News 

I rewatched the murder mystery, Knives Out last weekend. It was my preamble for the second Knives Out movie that hit cinemas recently. For one week only. Glass Onion is actually released on Netflix at Christmas, but I managed to catch it during it's limited big screen outing. Twice. It was glorious. That's all I need to say. The two-hours and twenty-minutes flew and I can't wait to rewatch for a third time. In alternative Culture News, I binged The Horne Section TV Show on All4. Mad, daft, silly, and surreal are all decent adjectives. But mostly, funny. I laughed a lot. 

I never said I was a photographer!
 (I really wish I'd taken this without
 the almost empty side plate.
Ignore it please.)

Food And Drink

Lovely, lovely tapas. It never lets you down. And the best tapas is non-shared tapas. Thank you Brindisi for my chilled evening of garlicky wonderment. 

Out and About

The city with the lights that I mentioned at the top? That'll be London, baby! Yep, an enforced mini-break to work around the rail strikes. But extra time in London is never wasted. Oh no. I filled it with my second watch of Glass Onion - in one of Leicester Square's Odeons, like it was a premier. (Reader, it was not a premier.) I also lucked out by being given a free ticket to GOOD, with David Tennant. (He was on stage, not my date. Probably best. He'd never handle it.) The story of a 'good' professor in 1930s Germany, it charted one man's descent into fascism as he struggled to fight against the Nazi regime. David Tennant, his fellow actors, and the production as a whole, were powerful, chilling, and at the top of their game. I don't imagine it'll be leaving me any time soon.

By the time this hits your inbox or you've clicked the social media link, I'll be on my way home. Avanti, permitting. (Lolzzzzzz.) There's a tree to decorate, Post Its to rip off, and the best month of the year to gear up to. May all your To Do Lists be as satisfyingly tangible. 

Have a lovely week, folks.

Timing, Genre, and Home-made Peppers...

It was all so easy in 2020. Not the year itself. That was a bin fire. From March through to December, the daily death toll and restrictions on normality were mentally exhausting. It was not a year that, should I be given the chance to revisit via the medium of time travel, I'd jump right back to. That honour would be reserved for 1985 (I loved Live Aid!) or 1995 (loads of snogging!) So, no, 2020 was not an easy year. But there was one aspect to that time that was shed-loads easier than now. I was clear on when to put up my Christmas decorations.

When 2020 hit, with all the grimness and disruption, I knew the appropriate time without a second's thought. The end of October. Bam. As soon as the clocks changed, I whacked on my Christmas lights.The twinkly glow gave me a regular lift any time I walked into the hall (FYI they're in the hall) or arrived back from a daily walk. It was, quite literally, a light in the darkness, and I didn't think twice about anyone else's thoughts on the matter. Now, I'm feeling the need for a regular lift all over again. Things are bleak out there. Every time I talk to anyone, the chat soon comes around to bills. Bills, heating, and rising prices. People are worried sick, and I'm not loving feeling as cold as I can handle before putting on the heating for half an hour. And I'm one of the lucky ones in that I can afford a daily half hour. I'm craving the twinkle of a fairy light more than ever, but it feels wrong. No one else in my neck of the woods has made the leap yet. People are being cautious. Whether it's down to the need to save leccy, or no one wanting to look flash in the face of a financial crisis, I'm not sure. But I'm primed. I'm ready. My lights are strung up and ready to go, as soon as it feels appropriate. And even though they'll use energy, I won't be putting any other lights on in the hall, so it should even out. I just wish I had the clarity that 2020 brought. They'd have been on for weeks by now, and I'd have felt marvellous for ages. Soon. Hopefully. Watch this space.

Writing News

One of my favourite authors of recent times - Lev AC Rosen - had a new book out that I've just finished, Lavender House. I devoured it, like I do all his stuff, but it made me think. In the past, he's written Young Adult LGBTQIA+ fiction but this time, Lavender House is a Queer murder mystery. I like it when authors switch things up and try different genres. I imagine, if your writing style is established (to yourself, I mean, not in terms of mega-sales) then it's an easy enough switch to make. Writing a story from start to finish is hard regardless, but trying a new genre needn't be a challenge. At least that's what I'm telling myself. So far, I've written contemporary adult fiction, and pre-teen novels. Now, for the first time in ten years, I don't know what I'll be writing after the current thing's finished. Oh don't worry. I'll work it out at some point, but I quite like feeling the world's my oyster. Maybe I could try a mystery. A modern day Agatha Christie, with a feminist slant or a northern setting? Or how about a romance? Or thriller? Or sci fi or fantasy? Nah. Nothing quite hits me like a mystery. That's my favourite genre from all of the above. Maybe that's the way I'll go next. Something to think about, anyway.

Series 4's Charles, 
played by Josh O'Connor.

Culture News

I've finished the latest series of The Crown. I don't know whether it's to do with being alive for the events of this one, or that the creative team has changed, but I found it dafter than usual. Nothing wrong with silly escapism, but I think we're all clued up that this is the soap-opera-ing of the royal family and not hard facts. I still enjoyed it, mind.

Food and Drink

The garden continues to throw out veg, willy nilly. This week there was a glut (about twenty, calm down, Nicky) of jalapeño peppers. As jalapeño poppers are my favourite party food ever, I had a bash at making them. Slit the pepper lengthways, scrape out the seeds, pack with Philadelphia, and coat in egg and breadcrumbs. I don't possess a deep fat fryer (can you imagine, I'd be frying EVERYTHING) so they were baked in the oven. Nowhere near as nice as the bought version, but perfectly acceptable and lovely with a beer.

Out and About

It's been a quiet one. A Wednesday brunch, a Thursday tea and a Friday drink notwithstanding, I've done nothing else. This time next week, I might have my Christmas lights on. I might have written some Christmas cards and I might have wrapped some presents. If I say it here, it might come true.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Gargantuan Mistakes All Over the Place...

Everyone cringe-watching
Matt Hancock.

I don't usually watch I'm A Celebrity. I did the whole thing once, about six years ago, but since then I get the gist of each camp's comings and goings via other watchers' chat. This year, I've even less interest. Time will tell but it feels like a gargantuan mistake to put a disgraced sitting MP, still awaiting an inquiry into excess deaths during his time as Health Secretary, into a light entertainment show. The juxtaposition is simply too jarring and feels inappropriate. But that's not all in the Land of Bad Decisions. There's also the up and coming World Cup to contend with. That too feels like a gargantuan mistake - giving the hosting duties to a country where human rights cannot be guaranteed. Individual fans can choose not to go (although why should they?) but players, backroom staff, TV pundits, camera crew, hair and makeup artists, and technicians, can't. It's their job and there are rising bills to pay. Not everyone that has to attend will be on footballers' salaries and can afford to refuse to go. With that in mind, it feels wrong to watch. But then that's what some people said before the last World Cup in Russia It was all soon forgotten once England started doing well. I think, to keep sane as a TV consumer, I'll stick to my daily dose of Netflix Christmas films. They're terrible, with flimsy plots and hammy acting, but at no point do they pretend to be a disgraced MP having nightly televised japes, nor a country that criminalises LGBTQIA+ people. As far as I know.

Watch. Me. Go

Writing News

The first draft of Book 4 is done, the first read through of Book 4 is complete, so now comes the next stage. Editing. Some writers love this part. It's where they whittle the wood or chip away at the marble block, all the while their genius creation emerges bit by bit from the sawdust/marble shards. (Look, I never said I was an expert woodswoman/sculpter-extraordinaire! Just go with it.) So that's the next part. The whittling and chipping. I'm not as much of a fan. I know it's a necessary part of the process, but I find it unfathomable for far too long. The emergence of an actual tight plot, with convincing characters and clear intention, is ages away. But the whittling and chipping has to start somewhere. And that's where I'm up to now.

Watching The Offer made me want
to watch The Godfather all over again.

Culture

I've finally seen The Mousetrap! I'm in the loop and know who did it. Thanks to The Mousetrap tour that came to Liverpool and did a bang up job. After realising that every film Dexter Fletcher has directed, is an absolute dream, I watched his new TV show, The Offer. On Paramout TV, it tells the story of the creatives behind the making of The Godfather. If you want 1970s Hollywood business shenanigans that look amazing, give it a go. I had a second watch of Bros at the cinema, whilst my new padded winter coat was over my knees like a blanket (fit!) and then, like many others, I've calmed down my Twitter usage in favour of Mastodon. Watching the one social media platform I used daily, disintegrate under my very nose has been disconcerting. Hey, maybe the reports of boardroom chaos and coding glitches are overblown. Maybe that bloke didn't make a gargantuan mistake by taking over and changing everything. But all good things must come to an end and it seems Twitter as we know it, is nearing that day. Mastodon is set up differently, feels kinder, and is run by nice people. I hope the mass movement to the platform by ex-Tweeters, doesn't change that.

A Saturday morning
breakfast of champions.
But doesn't it look
MEATY!

Food and Drink

Because I had a couple of siblings over last weekend, I made a chilli. And because there was a healthy representation of vegetarians in the group, it was a Burnt Aubergine Chilli from BBC Food. And then, because it was so nice, I made it again on Tuesday and have eaten it most days since. All I'm going to add is, there's proper magic at work here. One look at the ingredient list and you think, 'Well that sounds shit'. It's all lentils, veg, and powdered spices. But follow the instructions and you end up with the tastiest, heartiest, warming bowl of meaty-esque chilli in the world. Try it. It's my gift to you.

Out and About

I had a mid-week tea in town, prior to The Mousetrap, got my microbladed eyebrows topped up, and then visited my aunt in Sheffield. Not too busy, not too boring. Just right.

My new sofa arrived in the week. As of now, it's spill and stain free, unburdened by backside imprints, and as plump and firm as the day it was born. It won't last. If you need me, you'll find me being extremely careful with my drinks, sitting comfortably in the lounge.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Gatekeepers and Cheerleaders...

It's time, once again, for the monthly Ramble. No Weekly Update this time, just me and some paragraphs banging on about whatever. Exciting, yes? This week, the topic is Imposter Syndrome. Or rather the fleeting feeling of joy when it's kicked into touch. First of all, let's get down to brass tacks. Imposter Syndrome is... 

'"a psychological occurrence in which an individual doubts their skills, talents, or accomplishments and has a persistent internalized fear of being exposed as a fraud"

Bloody gate keepers.

That's what it says on Wikipedia*, anyway. Put simply, it's when you feel like you're winging it, 24/7. Back when I had a proper job, I don't think I experienced it. Not because I was annoyingly cocky, but because various gatekeepers along the way had happily waved me through. The recruitment process for my PGCE and the interview panel at the school that employed me, for example. If I was a crap teacher, they wouldn't have let me crack on. As a result, I got on with the job without considering it much. (It's easy to say that eleven years later, now the pressure of stupid lesson observations and nonsense OFSTED inspections are a distant memory.) Not that any of it matters now. Because Imposter Syndrome has most definitely arrived. 

It makes sense really. Teaching myself how to write and publish a book is still the most brilliant thing I've ever done, but because there are no gatekeepers, I have to gate-keep myself. I have to be my own critical eye. I have to be the arbiter of my own standards every single day. And ultimately, that means I assume I'm shite most of the time. It's the best way. Thinking everything I do is brilliant, is never going to help. No, the best thing to do is to rubbish any and every attempt at writing that I make. Look, I never said it was a mentally healthy place to be. 

Feeling like I'm winging it, is standard. It's been standard for years. And that's OK. Feelings of inadequacy are just part of the deal. But sometimes, every so often, I get a break from the insecurity. Sometimes I feel like I know what I'm doing.

It's happened twice recently. First of all, a friend of a friend, who's coming to the end of his own novel, got in touch. He wanted some advice about what comes next, so our mutual friend suggested we meet up. We did, had a great chat about writing and life in general, and I passed on some things that might be useful. Later, I thought about it. I'd given him a bunch of info that I'd pieced together over years. Whether it was about editing, front covers, formatting manuscripts, publishing imprints, ISBNs, or even the emotions involved in the process, I had a bunch of experience to pass on. Having never been trained for what I do, it was a bit of a revelation that I'd been the 'expert'. I drove away from the meeting, having had a lovely afternoon, and with a massive, throbbing ego. Until later, when I had a word with myself, but you get the gist.

The second thing that happened, was I read my completed first draft from beginning to end. This is the first draft of Book 4. I've been working on it since February, and I finally got to the end. It currently weighs in at 65,000 words and it took me five and a half hours to read (including time for note-making).

Here's the thing. It's not good. Not yet. It's waffly and meandering. I need to tighten up a few key plot lines and the ending needs more oomph. But blimey, it was a joy to read. My lovely characters that I'm emotionally invested in, have a marvellous time working out the next part of their story. There are highs and lows, I laughed out loud and got choked at the poignant bits. Even though I can see there's a shit-tonne (technical term) of editing to do, I still felt the rosy glow of achievement. It lasted for the rest of the day. I know what I'm doing and I feel confident that at some point, it's going to be a great book.

Obviously, the glow faded. Pretty much by the next day. By then, I'd started to make notes about what to change first, and found myself getting bogged down in the hugeness of the task. But I still had that day. The day I felt like I wasn't winging it.

Goooooooooo.... NICKY!

Being my own boss can be great. The autonomy to decide what to do next, along with full control over the end product is supremely satisfying. But at times, Imposter Syndrome can reach debilitating levels. It's important to make sure that, as a boss, I support well-being within the workplace. Taking the time to notice when I feel confident with what I'm doing, helps with that. Even when it lasts all of five minutes. If I have to be my own gatekeeper, I should definitely be my own cheerleader too.

Have a lovely week, folks.

*It's a full reference-date at Writer's Ramblings. Here's the study where that definition came from.