notgood

Crowdfunding Week 5 – Keep Calm and Carrie Fisher

keepcalm

OK guys so for 24 hours I had to get away from London, the internet, social media, work, family, self marketing and of course this crowdfunding (CF) lark. Luckily my friend Yvonne Lyon invited me up (not up, sideways, sorry) for her birthday celebrations. Since this process started I found myself impaired in every way – writing, music, work, sewing, family life. Not to mention I am now drinking everyday and becoming one of those cliched ‘is it wine o’clock yet’ mums. I was doing so well when I went teetotal for three months from September to December last year and was even called a sober skinny bitch to my utter delight. Now not only having put on weight, I’m finding it hard to concentrate and it is wearing me out looking at the percentage everyday. It is quite crippling. I am unable to write a word and I can feel my blood pressure mounting. I am having palpitations and an attack of The Hives (urticaria, look it up. No, not the Swedish band). I decided to go to Oxford and spend a night. I deliberately did not bring a computer and kept my phone off.

Instead of getting there quickly, I was waylaid by an epic journey. It took me 1.5 hours just to get to Notting Hill Gate. District line was not running yesterday, I didn’t know, had to take 39 bus to Putney Bridge, 74 to Lillie road, Fulham, 28 from Lillie Road, Fulham to Notting Hill Gate! Complete nightmare. Meanwhile it was pouring non stop, of course it was. That is called sod’s law. Was soaked. Walked in wrong direction of Oxford Tube bus stop. Found out. Walked in correct direction. Even heavier rain. When I got to the bus stop N or whatever it was, I had missed one bus by one second. The bus driver refused to open door even though he was still there at the stop! Waited for another. Finally, got on oxford tube and in total the whole journey took 3.25 hours! During all this travel nonsense l, being soaked, did not take out phone, or book as did not want to get anything wet. There was plenty of time to reflect on life so far, so near, take deep breaths and a step back.

When I got to Oxford, my friend Yvonne and I just enjoyed ourselves like the old days, art gallery, talking, food, wine, cinema, more talking, food, wine. I wanted to savour every moment and cherish life minus wifi, social media, life that is pre CF, the vintage life (I believe I even have a hashtag for this, look on the right).

There was a time when writing the book was enough! A time when being able to cook, getting a driver’s licence, getting a degree, a mobile phone, winning pitches and jobs, getting two more degrees, and having children were enough. But after climbing these mountains, I am climbing another – the CF mountain. So now I remind myself to keep calm and Carrie Fisher. She always retains humour in any situation of adversity:

Being happy isn’t getting what you want. It’s wanting what you have.

Anyway it can’t be possibly harder than digging holes in excavation pits by hand, or numerous labour-intensive manual work, or factory work or … how about raising your own children? Which BTW I reckon is still the most demandingly profound unpaid job in the world with no formal contract and no comeback, IMHO. Would suit young people. Work guaranteed all year round. No experience or skills required. Just apply.

Rant over. Did you think this is a blog post?

Rejections and the Pound on the Ground

applause

I can’t hear you!

So I had two rejections today, both for short stories. Another for my novel pitch, four days ago.

No thanks

For those of you who are young (you know who you are), they used to be called rejection slips in the good old days. The postman brought them to your door. They are in thick, creamy, textured, satisfyingly luxurious cards if they are standard rejections with no signature, and A4 thick creamy textured luxurious ribbed Conqueror paper if they have been typed by someone, hence with signature. Wanna see them? I have them in my museum. Nowadays rejections come by email with the heading “thank you for your…”. I don’t need to read the rest. If they liked it and want it, they won’t say “thank you”. Of course not. Why would they say “thank you”? They will start with “we are pleased to…”. There is no “slip”, no textured card to caress, no thick creamy paper to crush or to hang onto with your sweaty fist, no reality, no meaning, nothing but your iPhone screen to look at.

Mind-crushing headache

I woke up with this morning told me things were not going well. After a couple of paracetamols, it didn’t go away and after a couple of hours I had to wolf a meal down and pop two ibuprofens. It felt like a hangover and yet I wasn’t having a hangover.

I have been surveying

an office block in Surrey today and had to come home to sad news so not a great day. Tonight I applied to that London Book Fair Agent One to One event. I fully expect to hear nothing. That’s writing life for you. 99.999999999999999999999% rejection. This is for those who have dared to show their stuff and send it out. For those who write and leave it on their hard disk, it’s all OK. The hard disk is the soft pillow. Put your heavy head on it and don’t worry.

As a writer, am I too cool to say this: that I am very disappointed and irritated at myself for putting my stuff out, yet I feel that during the 0.000000000000000000001%* times that I had been successful, I had been truly successful, such as when I won the literary prize. Had I never ever been affirmed as a writer, I would have given up long ago. Underneath the aged grime, dirt and tarnish, the glint.

One has to look on the shiny side

The headache is gone. After the survey in Surrey, I actually found a pound on the ground. The gold disc was glinting. I couldn’t believe it. That’s, like, five ringgit! I had to ask myself, a pound or someone accepting my writing? I am not sure what is the value of my writing. Or dare I say, the worth.

* hope I got the number of decimal points right. If not, shoot me.

no sweets for me

no sweets for me

 

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7236774@N05/3518111460″>Pound rolling</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/71380981@N06/16439868149″>Everyone Deserves a Little  Portland Oregon</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a>