I am living in a post NaNoWriMo ecstasy. So far I managed to participate four times, every other year. I always take a year break between projects, not because I want to, but because it works out this way. Every year I feel like I don't have the time, every other year I say I will try anyway.
And once I sign up, I can't fail. My first year was when I was pregnant, it felt good and I had so much time (which I didn't know back then)! I probably assumed that after having the baby I will just publish a book, too, because being pregnant makes you believe many things..
My second year was writing with a toddler. I was keeping up well, somehow, but didn't write daily. Instead, I did bursts of writing every 2 or 3 days. At the end of the month I was taken by inspiration and I wrote a lot, even though I still had few days to go, so there was no stress. I just felt the story building and wanted to put it down. My husband was home that day, working from home, and our little one was wondering from one to the other. And when she was at my husbands's study, she stood on a stool, fell off and ended up falling on a toy she held. She cried, but children fall and cry, so I did my best to console her. And she seemed better, then she had a nap, which I spent sitting next to her, writing. I finished my project, child woke up and cried again. That wasn't like her, we decided to go to the hospital because she seemed unhappy and her hand was the issue although nothing was obviously wrong. We found out she broke a little bone in her wrist, the doctor said it is a very common injury in children. I remember feeling guilty for writing, for doing something else instead of looking after her. Then I reminded myself again and again that she could have fallen if I was cooking or cleaning, she could have fallen right next to me, she could have fallen while playing with us... The parent's guilt. They fitted her with a fancy cast, no plaster needed and she was fine in few weeks.
My third Nano was two years ago, it was a way to try to get back to myself, to what was important to me as a person, to sort out the story that started sprouting in my head. I didn't carry on working on that project, no editing, no re-writing. I was so terribly behind with everything else, I focused on my older things instead. It wasn't an easy story, or a pretty story, it was dark, but maybe not dark enough, it will need the right mindset to come to fruition.
This year, I started submitting, got many rejections, researched self publishing, looked up indie authors on twitter, saw the community that exists, that I already met during my NaNo years. I have a bunch of rejections, but I also have much clearer idea of who I am: a writer. I did NaNo to work on yet another idea that occurred. And it felt like hard work. There was so much to do: a course I am studying, editing that I didn't manage to finish, my child and my household. The fact that I must learn to be employed or self employed and do my other chores and work as well. Being a housewife is full time project, yet we are somehow conditioned to pretend it isn't a work at all. But I won't stop writing. No matter how much it takes.
November was long and hard. Everybody had a cold, child was off sick for few days, I didn't sleep as good as I would like to, the weather was bad, there were things to do... But I carried on, day after day. This year was the first time that I did write almost every day. Only on two days when I was away from home for too long to fit in any writing did I not write. And I felt awesome. The story is only a skeleton. It needs work. What changed, too, is that I humbly accept NaNo is only the beginning. I can take few days off at the start of December, but not the whole month (or few). I need to get more involved, open up to other indie writers (because I don't think I will follow the market trends in a way that attracts an agent), set up a profile or a website, get out there. Not for the money, not for the numbers of likes or followers, but simply because it is me. It is who I am. It is what works for me, what is part of me, what makes me happy. Writing. I always knew there was something about making stories that helped me get through life with all its difficulties and bad times...
So here I am. I don't manage to blog often, but I do love writing. Happy advent time everyone who loves reading so much that got him all the way down here!! Be happy when you do whatever makes sense to you and your life.
Saturday 7 December 2019
Friday 7 June 2019
About Ageing
I am now a woman over forty. It isn't a big deal. Turning thirty was an occasion, it was about being a grown up, fully adult. Forty? Meh. OK. No time to fuss, it's a number.
But I do see few grey hair. And few lines. Again, not a big deal. It is to be expected. Do I do something? I stick with my face care routine, I do consider turning grey and having the lovely rich grey locks I see on some women and admire very much. I don't really care about elaborate colours and highlights, but to see an older woman with nice grey hair, good cut, face that aged naturally and never had anything done to it gets my attention. I even consider asking: how did you get there? What did you do before your hair turned all grey, what did you do about those brittle little single grey hair?
What does bother me is facial hair. What is it? Why is it? I know it has to do with hormones and that it is normal, but please. Why? I never needed to deal with things like that, I only shaped my eyebrows. Now? I am on a lookout around the chin and under nose area all the time. And I am not enjoying it at all.
But I can live with that. I am healthy, strong, I know what I want and like, I think this age is good. However, my GP has an urgent need to check my blood pressure, sugar and cholesterol all the time because suddenly, I am at risk. I eat the same, live the same healthy life style, but from month to month I became a liability and me not wanting to book the offered health check makes me an irresponsible person. My dentist keeps talking about receding gums, how normal part of ageing it is. My optician gave me a long speech about my eyesight getting seemingly better, as he needed to lower my lenses prescription, but he reassured me it is because my eyeballs are getting ready to collapse and require reading glasses soon. I don't see any difference but according to him it is coming. All routine appointments I used to do without thinking are becoming a minefield. Am I going to be reminded about my ageing, frail existence? Am I going to be reminded about approaching death?
I feel better if anything, but this is getting me down. Am I living in denial, not wanting to admit that I am falling apart? Or am I right and the rest of the world didn't notice that people age at a different speed. When I was a girl, people celebrating 50 were old. Now they seem middle aged. It used to be a big thing, now it is basically late adulthood.
What I do notice is never ending interest in knowledge, but I am more picky. I know what I want and I don't like to waste my time. Same with people. I do like them but I am not interested in spending too much time with people who don't have much in common with me, who bore me. I don't want to sit through some occasions out of politeness or to be part of a group. When few weddings invitations landed in our mailbox this year I was very bothered. Give me a break! Surely we are over the wedding times now. I would rather walk around the world barefoot than sat at yet another wedding of people I don't know well enough to see it as a big thing. Years ago, I would love to go out, dress up, dance. Now I want to spend my time on things that truly interest me.
Years ago, I was also much more willing to do cardio. I would go to step aerobic and other classes often. Now I am trying to build up a cardio routine, these fast paced exercises you do for a short time but often, and I can't make myself to do it regularly. I like walking, I do gardening, train with my dog, but star jumps and burpees? Gah. I know it is good for my bones and that I will have to make myself do it but it is such a process, it wouldn't be an issue in my twenties. I like quiet. I like to explore meditation and breathing exercises, it overtook my interest in yoga. Again, to join a yoga class is such an effort. But it has to do with the fact that I am responsible for a child and my time is limited. Before, sport was about goals, about my body shape, about my achievement. Now, I want to go deeper, I don't care whether my abs are perfect. I am not getting lazy, it is just different. Good different, I hope... One thing I know is that I wouldn't go back if I could, I am glad to arrive and live in my forties.
But I do see few grey hair. And few lines. Again, not a big deal. It is to be expected. Do I do something? I stick with my face care routine, I do consider turning grey and having the lovely rich grey locks I see on some women and admire very much. I don't really care about elaborate colours and highlights, but to see an older woman with nice grey hair, good cut, face that aged naturally and never had anything done to it gets my attention. I even consider asking: how did you get there? What did you do before your hair turned all grey, what did you do about those brittle little single grey hair?
What does bother me is facial hair. What is it? Why is it? I know it has to do with hormones and that it is normal, but please. Why? I never needed to deal with things like that, I only shaped my eyebrows. Now? I am on a lookout around the chin and under nose area all the time. And I am not enjoying it at all.
But I can live with that. I am healthy, strong, I know what I want and like, I think this age is good. However, my GP has an urgent need to check my blood pressure, sugar and cholesterol all the time because suddenly, I am at risk. I eat the same, live the same healthy life style, but from month to month I became a liability and me not wanting to book the offered health check makes me an irresponsible person. My dentist keeps talking about receding gums, how normal part of ageing it is. My optician gave me a long speech about my eyesight getting seemingly better, as he needed to lower my lenses prescription, but he reassured me it is because my eyeballs are getting ready to collapse and require reading glasses soon. I don't see any difference but according to him it is coming. All routine appointments I used to do without thinking are becoming a minefield. Am I going to be reminded about my ageing, frail existence? Am I going to be reminded about approaching death?
I feel better if anything, but this is getting me down. Am I living in denial, not wanting to admit that I am falling apart? Or am I right and the rest of the world didn't notice that people age at a different speed. When I was a girl, people celebrating 50 were old. Now they seem middle aged. It used to be a big thing, now it is basically late adulthood.
What I do notice is never ending interest in knowledge, but I am more picky. I know what I want and I don't like to waste my time. Same with people. I do like them but I am not interested in spending too much time with people who don't have much in common with me, who bore me. I don't want to sit through some occasions out of politeness or to be part of a group. When few weddings invitations landed in our mailbox this year I was very bothered. Give me a break! Surely we are over the wedding times now. I would rather walk around the world barefoot than sat at yet another wedding of people I don't know well enough to see it as a big thing. Years ago, I would love to go out, dress up, dance. Now I want to spend my time on things that truly interest me.
Years ago, I was also much more willing to do cardio. I would go to step aerobic and other classes often. Now I am trying to build up a cardio routine, these fast paced exercises you do for a short time but often, and I can't make myself to do it regularly. I like walking, I do gardening, train with my dog, but star jumps and burpees? Gah. I know it is good for my bones and that I will have to make myself do it but it is such a process, it wouldn't be an issue in my twenties. I like quiet. I like to explore meditation and breathing exercises, it overtook my interest in yoga. Again, to join a yoga class is such an effort. But it has to do with the fact that I am responsible for a child and my time is limited. Before, sport was about goals, about my body shape, about my achievement. Now, I want to go deeper, I don't care whether my abs are perfect. I am not getting lazy, it is just different. Good different, I hope... One thing I know is that I wouldn't go back if I could, I am glad to arrive and live in my forties.
Sunday 13 January 2019
Dear Yann and many other men....
I wasn't outraged by the articles about a french writer who dislikes women over 50 and wouldn't date them. Good for him. It's always nice to know what you want.
In my twenties, which is the preferred age for this particular marvel of a man and many others I used to know, lots of my single girlfriends knew what they don't want or don't like - regarding looks, jobs, attitudes, life styles, whatever girls gossip over. I did notice that not many of them were so specific at what they wanted, I even mentioned it to one and she seemed very surprised. Many girls would then go out with very unsuitable men, myself included. They didn't have the obvious quality from the no no list, but they were far from perfect.
I used to go out with few guys older than me. I also worked for men who preferred younger women and were lucky enough to be surrounded by them - bar owners, photographers, restaurant owners... And I did hear that before. It wasn't only about looks, although looks mean a lot to a man, more than what they mean to us women, we are way more forgiving on that front I believe. I did hear some interesting theories about women getting crazy, too demanding, or simply unbearable once they reach thirty. I didn't care much about it, I didn't take it seriously even as my thirties were slowly approaching. I did think that I will simply see how I will change from one day to the next. I was lucky. I wasn't around any of those guys when I went definitely downhill on my thirtieth birthday. I was celebrating with my now husband.
I wasn't very much offended by what I heard, but then again, we didn't get very much offended back then, I think. People seem to take things much more seriously now. Men definitely get away with less than what they used to and it is only good. I noted the remarks, remembered them, and later on realised that I don't really want to hang up with that guy any longer, and left while still young and acceptable. I didn't date so many of them, of course, but I did observe the ever changing arm candy by my boss's side I counted myself lucky.
Only now, safely in the invisible forties, does that article link itself with my past experiences and I think that he may think he is the one in control, the one who decides, but the truth is, this isn't about women's looks at all. We reach an age when we see through all the b...s...t we are being fed, when we get bored with vain narcissistic guys, when we want more from a relationship, and see that we don't like the idea of future with this one. Sure, our bodies change, and dear men, so do yours. But we can see right through you and there comes a day when we decide not to put up with it anymore. We stop being interested in being an arm candy. We decide to be a full grown woman that we want to be, not stay on the girlfriend material side any longer.
I remember how my last boyfriend before my husband, who was a nice man with some flows, suddenly stopped being interesting. I realised I don't want to play second fiddle to his workaholic self. I don't want to only talk about him. I don't want to wait and fit in, keeping my own needs on the side. I want to be equal. I don't need expensive presents, holidays and dinners as much as I need quiet time at home, the boring every day thing that seem to be impossible with him. I didn't leave him because I was approaching crazy age. He didn't leave me because my looks were going. I left because I wanted something that certain kind of men is incapable of giving. I left knowing I would be better on my own. These men are relatively good at hiding that thing about them, lets call it vanity, and only younger girls will fall for it. I don't know who is with my ex now, but I wouldn't be surprised if his girlfriends are of consistently similar age and looks even now, twelve years after me. If it works for him, good on him, but not so good for them.
Also in the news this week: divorced women are having fabulous time and women who never married and never had kids are among the happiest people... Some guys will simply never understand that it isn't all about them, will they?
In my twenties, which is the preferred age for this particular marvel of a man and many others I used to know, lots of my single girlfriends knew what they don't want or don't like - regarding looks, jobs, attitudes, life styles, whatever girls gossip over. I did notice that not many of them were so specific at what they wanted, I even mentioned it to one and she seemed very surprised. Many girls would then go out with very unsuitable men, myself included. They didn't have the obvious quality from the no no list, but they were far from perfect.
I used to go out with few guys older than me. I also worked for men who preferred younger women and were lucky enough to be surrounded by them - bar owners, photographers, restaurant owners... And I did hear that before. It wasn't only about looks, although looks mean a lot to a man, more than what they mean to us women, we are way more forgiving on that front I believe. I did hear some interesting theories about women getting crazy, too demanding, or simply unbearable once they reach thirty. I didn't care much about it, I didn't take it seriously even as my thirties were slowly approaching. I did think that I will simply see how I will change from one day to the next. I was lucky. I wasn't around any of those guys when I went definitely downhill on my thirtieth birthday. I was celebrating with my now husband.
I wasn't very much offended by what I heard, but then again, we didn't get very much offended back then, I think. People seem to take things much more seriously now. Men definitely get away with less than what they used to and it is only good. I noted the remarks, remembered them, and later on realised that I don't really want to hang up with that guy any longer, and left while still young and acceptable. I didn't date so many of them, of course, but I did observe the ever changing arm candy by my boss's side I counted myself lucky.
Only now, safely in the invisible forties, does that article link itself with my past experiences and I think that he may think he is the one in control, the one who decides, but the truth is, this isn't about women's looks at all. We reach an age when we see through all the b...s...t we are being fed, when we get bored with vain narcissistic guys, when we want more from a relationship, and see that we don't like the idea of future with this one. Sure, our bodies change, and dear men, so do yours. But we can see right through you and there comes a day when we decide not to put up with it anymore. We stop being interested in being an arm candy. We decide to be a full grown woman that we want to be, not stay on the girlfriend material side any longer.
I remember how my last boyfriend before my husband, who was a nice man with some flows, suddenly stopped being interesting. I realised I don't want to play second fiddle to his workaholic self. I don't want to only talk about him. I don't want to wait and fit in, keeping my own needs on the side. I want to be equal. I don't need expensive presents, holidays and dinners as much as I need quiet time at home, the boring every day thing that seem to be impossible with him. I didn't leave him because I was approaching crazy age. He didn't leave me because my looks were going. I left because I wanted something that certain kind of men is incapable of giving. I left knowing I would be better on my own. These men are relatively good at hiding that thing about them, lets call it vanity, and only younger girls will fall for it. I don't know who is with my ex now, but I wouldn't be surprised if his girlfriends are of consistently similar age and looks even now, twelve years after me. If it works for him, good on him, but not so good for them.
Also in the news this week: divorced women are having fabulous time and women who never married and never had kids are among the happiest people... Some guys will simply never understand that it isn't all about them, will they?
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