New Year

I cannot believe we are almost into the second week of January. Frankly, I’m glad to see the end of 2011. For the first half of the year my five year old daughter was plagued with illness and then just as things were looking up I found myself in the emergency department in excruciating pain. Three months and three surgical procedures later I can finally start focusing again on my writing. Despite my optimism in a post I published in October, I’m sorry to say that I’ve done very little writing over the last few months. I don’t know whether it was the combination of painkillers and the bone deep lethargy that consumed me, but I just completely lacked the enthusiasm to write.

In lieu of an creative outlet I’ve drowned myself in books. Not having the concentration span for my usual reading I’ve shamelessly become addicted to paranormal romances: J R Ward, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Karen Chance, Christine Feehan, Laurell K Hamilton, and Karen Marie Moning to name but a few. Whatever your personal opinion of paranormal romances, you cannot deny that these authors are prolific writers, many of them having penned over thirty novels, averaging three to four a year. Many of the stories are interwoven involving dozens of characters. Sometimes I would pause in my reading and just wonder what their studies looked like, picturing huge whiteboards featuring bios of characters and their complex relationships to each other. These novels have not only been a great distraction but have also given me a new enthusiasm when it comes to my own writing, showing me that writing can be fun.

When I felt particularly inspired for more substantial content works such as, ‘The Discovery of Witches’ by Deborah Harkness, ‘The Black Prism’ by Brent Weeks, and the Hugo and Nebula award-winning novel ‘The Windup Girl’ by Paolo Bacigalupi, filled the void. It was unfortunate that I had to go back to work on Boxing Day. Although admittedly I only lasted one week before I was put on another two weeks leave due to unexplained pain in my kidney (an ultrasound has since revealed the reason).

But despite these further complications I have a very optimistic outlook for this year. Whilst I have quite a few developmental goals for my daughter, I only have three goals for myself this year. The goal that tops my list is to get my health back on track and to learn to manage pain better without popping a million pills (I‘m sorry to say that a week after the post in October I caved and went back on Endone). Taking the advice of Anne Lamott, my next goal is to set aside at least one hour a day to write regardless of what kind of shitty day I’ve had. And my final goal is to get a viable vegetable garden off the ground. I’m fortunate that I have a good friend who has done a horticulturist course and has her own large vegetable garden to help with this.

Working in the garden is a great stress free way to spend a few hours a week. It is also to satisfy a craving of mine to return to the simple life that is advocated by the Voluntary Simplicity movement. As I have mentioned this movement in previous posts I won’t expound upon it here. Whilst I’ve gone off the path a few times I’m proud to say that this Christmas I managed to mostly stay clear of the commercialisation that surrounds the holiday. I say mostly because I got addicted to these little Christmas cupcakes Coles produced and would have bought at least three dozen, foisting them upon every visitor that came to the door. Anyway, other then a new bike which my daughter desperately needed I bought her only wooden and tin, handcrafted toys forgoing those plastic, battery operated toys that have been the bane of the last few Christmases. I think in the month of December I only stepped into the local Westfield once and even then I made a quick exit.

Anyway, I think I am rambling a bit now. Here’s to a year of good health and good writing.