At this time of year, we usually talk about the new year and what we might expect or plan to do with it, but honestly, for once we cannot be asked. We will carry on as normal, rather than waiting to see if it will be worth getting out of bed. I mean, the New Year could simply be waiting to start being brilliant!
Since we began blogging in 2012, we have done rather well considering how much there was to learn. However, we have the feeling we won’t progress any further until we find new areas to develop. We also need to figure out what else we need to know, for we haven’t sold a huge amount of books. Luckily, the writing is going well so that is something to build on.
Maybe our goal for 2023 should be to stop worrying, slow down a bit and smell the roses?
I usually feel sad on New Year’s Eve, but I have a feeling I won’t this year, for it has been a right old mixed bag of pain, frustration and depression, with hardly any good bits!
I normally open all the doors as Big Ben chimes at midnight to allow the old year to limp away. This year I will be sorely tempted to help it on its way with my foot!
Come on in 2023 and show us all a little more peace and joy, pretty please?
This is a continuation of my recent post about how pleased I am that I am writing again.
And I really am, but there is something else going on. Or not, depending on how you look at it. Something I am having trouble coping with.
I didn’t mention it at the time in case it was a temporary thing.
I have been up with the lark, writing my socks off and enjoying every moment. Followed by busy mornings, catching up with all the routine online stuff.
All good, right?
But my afternoons couldn’t be more different. I have always regarded the afternoons as my time, where I get creative making new posters, book covers, trailers and new posts.
Since having covid, which was a nightmare, I am far from back to normal and try as I might, I cannot conjure up any magic.
The weather here in the UK has been brutal. I have been so cold; it has just added to my woes. All I really want to do is curl up under a blanket and read. The temperature is set to rise a little tomorrow, and I hope this will warm up my brain too…
We haven’t had any snow, which hasn’t helped my mood either…
I keep telling myself that it’s nearly Christmas and time to think about winding down the year and making a few plans for 2023.
Not sure why, but for some reason, I wasn’t listening. Among other things, I have been busy writing. After long months of dragging my heels (for so many reasons,) the words have been pouring out of me at the rate of more than a thousand a day. I am really enjoying feeling like a writer again.
But planning? Surely there should be more than enough time for thinking about new projects next year…
I have been threatening to learn how to use Scrivener for longer than I care to remember, and something about this new burst of enthusiasm has made it seem essential, so I am following my instincts here.
The fact that Microsoft Word has been tinkering again and made some changes that are definitely not helpful might have something to do with it.
My first attempt went pear-shaped very quickly, even with the Scrivener for Dummies handbook! But instead of stomping off in frustration like I usually do when faced with complicated techno jargon, I became obsessed with finding a solution.
I spent the afternoon on YouTube, looking for someone to unlock my stupid brain.
Thanks to Joanna Penn from The Creative Penn, and William Gallagher, I seem to have grasped the basics. It may take me a while to use the system for my current WIP, but it looks hopeful.
I recently promised a post on my progress, which will follow soon. How’s that for optimism?
We hope you are all managing to keep warm in these freezing times…
Feeling under pressure to adopt Temporarily, a family from Ukraine To offer warmth, heartfelt cuddles To appreciate the pain and loss they are going through To be thoughtful, when speaking about their homeland I became a defender of the blue and yellow flag A symbol of freedom The right to live on the land their forefathers trod I filled my house with rosemary, for remembrance... ©AnitaDawes2022
The Glass Bridge Sunlight illuminates the glass bridge that hangs between dark green foliage Too high, too delicate to walk upon Yet I must take my first step. There is magic calling I feel it tingling against my skin Each step releasing angelic music The wind carries it forward Teasing me to follow Come see what lies beyond the last step My feet now on solid ground Yet the vibrations tell a different story It snakes up my body, daring me to move on Should I turn back? I look over my shoulder The bridge is no longer hanging there I am looking at a solid block of dark green trees My fate now lies ahead. Here the foliage is soft, a warmer shade of green A welcoming warm breeze washing small fears from my mind A gentle voice telling me there is no pain here We have been expecting you Welcome to Shangrilah… ©AnitaDawes2022
New Life Slow running rivers through summer breeze Winter leaves fallen, carrying new life Eaten by time, flowing backwards Every moment ticking into eternity Time folding in on itself, taking back Winter snow covering all the sharp edges Arriving at your destination, time slows Turning your feet to snow, your breath laboured Every step turning your body in on itself Reverse your steps, find that slow running river, step in… ©AnitaDawes2022
We love snow, but will we get any this year?
At the beginning of 2022, I had the overwhelming notion of cultivating something. Something I had never had much luck with before.
I chose tomatoes.
I had always wanted to do this, but previous efforts had always failed for one reason or another. This time, I was sure we would grow our own tomatoes.
I researched all the different types of tomatoes, confident I would make the right choice. Several packets of seeds arrived in the post, and I started to gather all the pots and soil I would need.
This was all happening when the year was young and hadn’t yet acquired that air of doom and gloom that would eventually descend and taint everything.
I felt like a proper gardener as I prepared the pots and planted the seeds. Every day I would inspect them, waiting eagerly to see the first pale new shoots appearing. I remember being so happy when the first seedlings broke through the soil.
Just one week later, I went outside to see my charges, to be met with the scene of a disaster. Something had attacked the pots, and the ground was littered with displaced soil and battered seedlings. I tried my best to replant them all, but inside, I was seething. Who or what had done this?
It seemed to take a long time for the seedlings to recover, and I secretly waited for them to curl up their toes and give up the fight. To be honest, that’s what I wanted to do, as my dream had been spoiled.
Slowly, they did recover and grew taller. Soon the pale yellow star-shaped flowers appeared, shortly followed by tiny tomatoes. Whether it was being so cruelly disturbed, the lack of sunshine, or the absence of luck, these tomatoes never grew very big. Disappointingly small, although definitely sweet.
I still wonder what had sabotaged my efforts and whether I will try again next year…