Dear 2011, the year that was.

Oh how the times do change. This year has been great. Ok, so I don’t have the job I love (yet!), I didn’t win the lottery or get engaged to Richard Armitage (yet!). But I can honestly say that 2011, you have been good to me. Before we hit 2012, here are 12 things that 2011 taught me:

1. Things can only get better. This time last year I thought that things could only get better because they couldn’t get any worse. I know that things can only get better in 2012 because the foundations have been laid in 2011 for a great year and a great future.

2. Good times and bad times make a friendship. They say you learn who your true friends are when the shit hits the fan. But you also learn who really cares when things start coming up roses. Also you can stay friends with someone, even if they have buggered off to Australia. In-depth conversations about Buffy the Vampire Slayer are go! 

3. Having direction brings positivity. This year I finally realised what I wanted to do with my life. Or, more accurately, how I wanted to pursue it. In only a matter of weeks I will be starting a course, training as a make-up artist. This thrills and terrifies me in equal measure.

4. Never go back. Whatever old feelings might come crashing back, the past doesn’t change. Always move forward. Like a shark. Let it go and you open yourself up to much cooler things.

5. Personal style is important. I always used to say that I didn’t really care what I looked like, that what was inside was what mattered most. At the same time I didn’t want to look like everyone else. But this year I took control of my appearance. I threw away every item of clothing that I didn’t like, didn’t suit me, didn’t wear. I started to think about what I wore, how I did my hair. I started to think about what I bought. I bought and wore only things I loved – both new and vintage. It’s amazing how much a bright outfit that you feel really good in can make the day start in such a great way.

6. Dancing is essential to life. Not only is the best work out ever – I know this because I ache the next morning – it puts you in the best mood! No matter how crap your day, how tired you are or how blue, shaking it on a sticky dance floor to epic tunes will fill you with joy. Don’t even get me started on Zumba!

7. People are inspirational – find them. I have found such inspiration in the following blogs: GalaDarling.com (check out her book Love & Sequins – too good!); A Beautiful Mess; Bangsandabun.

8. Kundalini Yoga is an addiction. It just makes me feel so good – so calm and exhilarated afterwards. I’m totally addicted to it. I’m not the world’s greatest runner, this is much more my thing. I still try to run at least once a week though. Exercise really does make you feel great in your own skin.

9. Natural beauty is the ultimate. I use raw cocoa butter from Akoma which I melt down in silicone cupcake cases with a drop of olive oil and a few drops of essential oils. I use it as a massage bar and it is a delicious treat. Also, Lush facial skincare has been wonderful to me.

10. TV steals your soul. All right, that’s a bit dramatic. But I live in a house with people who worship the great soap trinity: Eastenders, Coronation Street, Emmerdale. I’ve always watched them too. Out of habit I flick on the TV when I’m cooking, cleaning, generally whenever I enter a room. I’ve well and truly shaken that habit and I’d encourage you to try it. These days I live for Doctor Who, Merlin and Downton Abbey (which jumped the shark big time, which I sort of love) but otherwise I rarely watch TV. It’s freed up so much time for exercise, writing, reading and chatting with friends.

11. Validation is important. Much as you might tell yourself that you are talented, much as your friends and family might agree, there is something really powerful about being told you’re good by a stranger.

12. Positivity breeds delight. Nothing is so awful that it can’t be faced. Look for the good and you’ll find it as surely as you’ll find the bad.

Ten years ago today.

Ten years ago today something happened that changed the world as we know it. We all know what that was.

Where were you?

I was at 14 and I was at school in North West London. Not a word was said while we were at school, something I still find odd and wonder if I’m actually remembering that correctly.

At the end of the day I waved goodbye to my friends as I left the school and crossed the road to where my Grandad always parked down a side street opposite. He was quiet, but then he always was. As he pulled away from the kerb, he said:

“Two planes have hit the twin towers.”

“The what?”

“The twin towers. In New York.”

“By accident you mean,” I said. Because it honestly didn’t occur to me that it could be anything else, even though he had said two planes.

He didn’t answer, just stared straight ahead and shook his head slightly. I remember opening my mouth, but I said nothing. I wasn’t even sure that I was thinking of the right place, at that point they weren’t part of my mental landscape.

We had drawn level with the school, moving slowly against the rest of the traffic. The road was dense with cars parked, cars inching slowly along, the spaces between filled with students, arms linked, jaws working against gum, earphones plugged into just one ear. I remember staring out of the car window, the noise of teachers shouting at the girls dodging between cars, the cries of adolescent boys after those girls in the short skirts with their enviable confidence. The world had changed and no one seemed to have any clue.

We drove home in uncharacteristic silence. We sat on the sofa at home and watched the replays – as though replaying it would make sense of it. We reached blindly for the phone to call our American relatives – two of whom lived in downtown New York at the time. The room was filled with fragile puffs of air because every time we tried to say something none of us could find words big enough. It was the first time I realised that actually, sometimes words are not enough – sometimes words provide no answers, no comfort. It was a realisation that made me feel adrift and lonely. The first certainty of my life was cut.

The next day at school was strangely tense. By that point people were talking about Al Qaeda, throwing around the term “Islamic extremism.” My school was a melting pot of religions and I will never forget that sudden “us and them” that sprung up, despite the assembly that warned against it.

It was fantastically naive of me, but I was so surprised by that – we had been friends, we shared Bunsen burners during our Chemistry classes and swapped pens and made up dances in the playground.

11th September 2001 left a mark on all of us, to greater or lesser extents. The images of each collision, the towers crumbling, the heaving cloud of dust and debris that moved like a monster through New York that day, still chills me, makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

I hope it is not still naive of me to say that I hope that more love was born that day than hate. I hope it taught us to cherish those we love, to make the most of every day. If we have learnt that people can do horrific things that have the power to freeze the entire world in one moment of shock, then I hope we have also learnt that people have untold capacities for bravery, love and compassion.

My thoughts today are with the families of those who were lost that day, not just in the Towers, but at the Pentagon and on flight 93.

More lessons.

As someone who writes I try to avoid cliché at all costs, but clichés don't just occur in writing. When responding to a comment on my last post Lessons to be learned I said that although there are people who scam, we need to realise that this is a minority and not use it as an excuse for prejudice.

But racial clichés abound. Scottish people are tight. The English are snobs. The Irish are stupid. Arabs are greedy. Americans are lazy.

What??

I mean, seriously, in this day and age?

Yes, I know that some of these are used in jest, but some people think this racial stereotyping is accurate. Isn't that sort of terrifying?

In the comment that prompted this post I said "If a man steals a car we don't assume that every man on the planet is a car thief." That sort of sweeping generalisation isn't believed in (we'll get into the female "Men are rubbish!" generalisation another time!). So why are racial generalisations believed in?

Is it because we feel the need to define something different? For example, I personally would find having to wear hijab very restricting. It's not something that I would be comfortable in. I haven't been brought up with it, it has nothing to do with my religious beliefs. And while I don't really understand why you'd choose to wear it I'm not going to say "It's oppressive to all women!!" Why? Because what the hell do I know about it? For all I know, this is their choice and they embrace it happily for whatever reason. It's not for me, but it's also not for me to tell you how to dress. Some people, because they can't understand why this might be someone's choice, perhaps it's easier for them to decide it's a symbol of oppression. That's something they can get.

Is it easier to relate to people if you can lump them into a certain category? I can only imagine that this is the reason for this casual racial stereotyping.
We're all guilty of it, I'm sure. So maybe next time a generalisation rises to your lips, you can pause, reconsider.

All right, enough of the heavy stuff now, I promise. I’m actually planning another post on fashion and hairdos.

Lessons to be learned.

I would just like to express my horror about what has happened in Norway. Over the last few days I've been watching the coverage with increasing unease. It was such a chillingly calculated attack - that sort of coldness really scares me.

But what really scares me is the increasing racism I see about me every day. Breivik was a Nationalist who attacked the Labour party because he believed they were allowing "the Islamification" of Norway and Europe. It would be a relief to be able to dismiss this as the belief of a crank, someone who - given his actions – was clearly an extremist. But...

Only days after the attack someone told me that they sort of understood where he was coming from - "foreigners taking over and all that". I was stunned. I mean, apart from the comment itself, when did it become ok to voice those views to someone you barely know? I - perhaps naively - thought that was the kind of sentiment you only revealed to people you knew well, who you trust to have similar views. The fact that it's now something that you can casually mention to someone you barely know suggests that this is a feeling that is growing in acceptance and that really scares me.

I grew up and still live in a very multi-cultural area. As a white girl at my school, I was actually in the minority. It never bothered me - it never occurred to me to be bothered. Everyone rubbed along well enough. But in the last couple of years, I've heard derogatory words bandied about like it's nothing. Racist sentiment seems to be on the rise, I’ve heard it and my friends have been on the receiving end of it. It is disgusting.

I really think we need to stop and think about this. I'll be honest - I am frustrated by people who move to our country and then just go on benefits. I'm as annoyed with them as I am with Brits who do the same. But I have no problem with people coming to our country, looking for a better life for their children, more opportunities. Surely we should be proud that when people want to get a better life for themselves they think this the place to do it?

We're all grown ups, can't we be mature enough to respect each other? When I mentioned this to a friend she said "It all kicked off with September 11th, didn't it?" The so-called "War on Terror" started and what it's mutated into is a war on difference. Why are we so terrified of people being different? This is the 21st century - we should have learned by now to be more inclusive, accepting and understanding of all walks of life.

I applaud the Norwegians for deciding that they will respond to these attacks with democracy rather than violence. There's definitely a lesson to be learned there.

Writing myths

Anyone even vaguely interested in writing will have heard several key phrases about how to go about it. Some of them are golden rules that really help you and should be obeyed nearly all the time. Some though are of the pick and mix variety – use them if they work for you but don’t feel guilty if you decide to chuck them out of the window.

Kill your darlings.

Yes. This is a good one. I’m not saying that if you find yourself looking at a sentence going “Cor, I’m a genius. That is really good!” that you should immediately hit the delete button. But you might find yourself unable to remove something even though you sense that it probably needs to go or someone has suggested it doesn’t work. Sometimes people are wrong when they say that line needs to go. But if several people have said it and you’re still stubbornly sticking by it, claiming that it’s “too good” to lose, then you might need to reconsider.

Don’t just delete it because someone has told you to. But take a step back. Don’t look at it for a while. Go write something else, ride a horse, dance the conga, do something to clear your head of it. Hopefully you’ll be more objective when you come back. The idea is, never get so attached to a line, a scene, a character, a plot that you are willing to sacrifice the story to keep it. The beauty of taking time a break from the story is that when you come back and realise it does need to go, you’ll have distance and it won’t hurt to hit the delete button.

Write what you know.

This one I have some issues with. Mainly because I find it restrictive in its literal interpretation. If I only wrote what I know then all my characters would live in London, be part of single-parent families and have working class chips on their shoulders. Boring! Boring for me to write more than once, boring to read and boring for the characters because everyone will be pretty much the same.

I think this literal interpretation has stemmed from the idea that all writing is in some way autobiographical. If you write a story about a girl who’s not allowed to see her boyfriend – that must have happened to you. If you write a story about a guy who steals a motorbike – that must have happened to you. I find that really frustrating because it’s not always true. Yes, there are things in my life that have inspired my writing, but no more than the books I’ve read or the films I’ve watched have inspired my writing. It’s an argument that falters when you consider something like Jurassic Park.

However, I don’t think that this advice was ever meant to be taken literally. I think it’s true on a deep level – you need to understand, to know, your characters and what they feel in order to write something that rings true. Say you sit down to write about a girl who wants vengeance on the gang that killed her brother. You really have to think that through, think how you’d feel, what you’d do, before you start to write. It’s all very well to write what you think is the correct response but it’s not going to be truly complex, compelling and real until you’ve understood it. Walk a mile in your character’s shoes, only then are you going to know them well enough to write their stories.

Write. Just write.

In the words of Sally – yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!

I once read that Alan Bennett’s first draft of The History Boys was terrible. But it has since become a critically acclaimed hit and was made into a film. Not bad for something that wasn’t great from the word go, eh?

Because that’s the secret – nothing is ever great the first time round. Nobody is ever so good at something the first time that they never get any better. The same goes for your writing. Get it out, get it onto the page, the screen, wherever you’re most comfortable with and worry about whether it’s any good later. You cannot polish something that isn’t there.

My personal mantra is:

Write now. Worry later.

24 before 25.

Today is my 24th birthday. I’ve got the day off work so I’m off for a facial and massage with Mum and Nan (thank you, Groupon, for the dead cheap voucher) and then perhaps to Camden. The day is to be rounded off with some yummy food and some cake.

But I’ve been thinking recently that a birthday should be more than just an excuse to pamper yourself and get presents. It’s your own personal New Year!

I was inspired by this post last year and decided that I would do my own list. Reading over my list, there’s an awful lot of craft and learning based goals. Trying something new or rediscovering something I used to love. Here’s hoping these goals will really enrich my year! Some of these goals are ones that will have a result at the end of it, some of them are a little more fluid.

1. Actively pursue looking for an agent. I need to focus on it, rather than just browsing sites when I have a minute and then forgetting to do anything about it.

2. Get faster, go further. Seriously want to improve my running. I already have a regular monthly running date with a friend, so I  really want to focus on upping my personal best each time. And then totally smash it.

3. Finish up Novel Number 2, The Daddy. Slightly more of a challenge than I thought it would be as I’m still finishing up the edits on Novel Number 1.

4. Buy (at least) 3 vintage/second-hand/charity shop dresses. Better for the environment and I’ll have something no one else has. Already planning a trip to a vintage fair on Sunday!

5. Sew a new item of clothing for myself, I haven’t since I made a skirt when I was 15. I might even treat myself to this kit.

6. Knit a jumper. I can knit a scarf, but I want to make clothing. And this also means learning to read a pattern. Which may as well be in Hindi for all the sense I can currently make of them.

7. Give up bread! This isn’t some bizarre diet attempt. I absolutely adore bread, but it makes me lazy. If I can’t be bothered to cook, I know I can fill up on a couple of slices of toast. If I vow to eat less bread, then it will encourage me to cook more. Expand my culinary repertoire!

8. Visit an outdoor adventure place. I don’t think this needs more explanation really does it?

9. Look into a course about web design. I know precisely nothing about anything technical, but I’d love to know more. I can’t think of a better way to learn than by going back to school.

10. Finish up that epic poem and make it up into a book, complete with illustrations! I started it in 2009 and I’m very fond of it so I want to see it finished to see how the story ends. When I did GCSE I particularly loved the drawing stage, I found it really relaxing, even if some of the designs were beyond my sewing capabilities! But now I put it off because I’m not that good at it so I think it’s about time I rediscovered the fun and perhaps with practice I’ll get better!

11. Listen to more radio programmes. I kept hearing about someone in The Archers falling off a roof and realised that radio can get you talking just as much as TV. Also, I need to get out of this habit of getting into watching something just because it’s on in the room I happen to be in.

12. Knit a sock. Yes, just the one. Two if I can manage it, but I hear tell that socks are fiendishly difficult so one would make me very proud indeed!

13. See the very last Harry Potter film and really enjoy it. All too often I think – not as good as the book and terribly cast. But this series has been part of my life since I was 11 years old and thanks to the films I didn’t have to say goodbye when the last book was published in 2007. So I’m going to enjoy this!

14. Do the splits! Yes, this is a dream of mine.

15. See three new plays. I love the theatre, but I find it expensive and booking tickets always seems to be such a hassle (is it just me? But I can never find three seats together on the same night that aren’t the price of a champion racehorse!)

16. Make a real go of some freelancing work.

17. Join a club. I haven’t really thought this one through because I don’t know what club! But I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for something interesting and hope I can meet some inspiring new people. A London writers club would be wonderful. Any ideas, let me know!

18. Go to a big sewing/knitting/vintage/craft event. I love craft, do-it-yourself and vintage and all the blogs seem to find these events a lot of fun. So I’d like to join in on that fun and maybe learn something new.

19. Visit an antiques fair. I blame Kirsty Allsopp for this.

20. Visit Wales. I hear they have great trails there. And a howies shop…

21. Go horse-riding. I think the last time I rode I was about 14 when I was working in a stable. Then came the GSCEs, the A-levels and university. Time to get back in the saddle I reckon!

22. Join a pottery class or at least make a coil pot at home. Again – enough with the “Ooo, that looks good, I’d like to try that.” I’m going to do it!

23. Do a poetry open mic night. It’s one thing reading out your work to a seminar group, it’s quite another to get up on stage and do it. So I’ll admit that I’ll probably visit somewhere that does this a few times before I actually try it. There's no reason to sacrifice myself unawares to a baying mob! Any recommendations of places/events to check out, let me know please!

24. Take up tennis. I get addicted to Wimbledon every year and I’ve got a tennis court about a 45 minute walk away from me. There’s no reason not to have a go myself!

So here’s to my own personal New Year. Let’s see how many goals I can fulfil. I may do another post about my birthday weekend of fun next week, we shall see!

Happy Birthday to any fellow Pisceans and Happy Un-birthday to everyone else!

The vital ingredient.

Talent + Self-Belief x Hard Work (+ Luck) = SUCCESS.

We’re all agree that those are major components in the ongoing search for success, yes? And not just in writing, the same could be said of any industry from journalism to acting. It’s all pretty obvious – talent is nothing if you don’t put the work in and everyone could do with the good luck of being in the right place at the right time. But it’s the self-belief that actually makes you sit down day after day after day and face that blank screen or page.

But what makes self-belief? Where does it come from? Some people are just born with it, others have to acquire it along the way. Here’s what I think it is:

Support + Optimism.

Without optimism, that cheerful hope that one day it will all be worth it, why would you do it? If you sit down thinking “Well, this will never see the light of day,” why are you wasting your time? If it’s for sheer love of writing then I applaud you because although I love to write, I write with a view to sharing it. Even if it’s only ever seen by a family member or friend I work in the hope that something I write will make someone grin and say “I loved it!” Making it the best that it can possibly be for that shadowy future reader is what keeps me going. That and knowing that it’d smart to hear that something I’ve written is crap.

And then there’s self-belief, that tricky little bugger. When you stall at 10,000 words because you’ve written yourself into a corner or have happened across the single most clichéd line in the history of the written language (and ye gods, you’ve written it!) you have to have the gumption to open your eyes and face it. The “I can’t do this” attitude leads to Googling funny pictures of kittens (been there) instead of figuring out how to get your character out of that locked toilet.

If you write, you probably read a lot. I know I do. Perhaps your self-belief comes from having read something awful and just knowing that you can do better. The “If they can do it, so can I!” attitude. Or perhaps someone else believed in you so much that you thought that maybe then were onto something and that grew into believing in yourself and your own abilities. The latter is how it happened for me….

I always went crazy for writing in school. Especially when we got fountain pens. At least half the pleasure for me was the act of writing itself. Creating neat blue curly writing on smooth white paper. That’s something I still enjoy, the simple, sensual pleasure of writing something down.

But I also loved stories. As an only child I would chatter away to myself when I was playing. I once managed to convince myself there were wolves in the little wood next to the top field where our weekend caravan was. I’ve never run home so fast and I’ve never enjoyed gossip as much as I enjoyed describing that wild chase to my rapt family. Writing down my tall tales was just natural progression and sometimes I went a little overboard:

Year 7 History homework – Write a short story about how Mary Stuart felt after Darney’s death. Cue an 8pg response from me about her wig, her accent and – oh yes – her feelings.

Year 8 English homework – Write a short story about homelessness. A holiday project, which meant I produced a front cover, illustrations, the whole she-bang. A crush on the teacher probably helped that one along…

But then there was Year 9, which was the turning point for me. Our half-term project was to write our own whodunit. I wrote a story about a crime of passion in which you were supposed to side with the killer. I vividly remember the first Friday after half-term. English was the last lesson before lunch and everyone tore out to get their hands on chips, but I was asked to stay behind. I assumed the teacher had noticed me smuggling fingerfuls of muffin out of my bag. But apparently not. She said, “I read your story. I loved it. I’d like to put it in the school magazine.” Once more I’d made it up into a book, complete with illustrated front cover and here was my teacher, hugging it to her chest and telling me she wanted to publish it. None of my friends really got why that was a big deal for me, but I was lucky that my family always thought writing was a good thing. Not something that ought to make way for a proper job – like being an palaeontologist, which was my first ambition (I was going to write the seminal work on what wiped out the dinosaurs).

My Grandad was a stickler for spelling and grammar, to the extent that he bought be a pocket spell-checker. Because if you’re going to do something – do it properly. Mum just thinks everything I write it totally brilliant, which is great for when I need a boost. And Nan isn’t afraid to ask awkward questions or say if she thinks something doesn’t work.

So many times in this post I’ve started to write “I’m not published, but I think…” or “I’m not that good, but…” but why should I qualify my opinions? No, I’m not published, I’m not the world’s greatest, number one writer – these are just the facts. But I do write. But I do know what got me started and what keeps me going.

If you’re finding it a struggle to face the blank page, have a think about what you’re missing. It could just be the vital ingredient.

[Also, at the moment, Egypt is in the midst of a great turning point. The people are determined to see the back of Mubarak. You might want to read this post about it. Thanks.]