Rereading Jane Eyre

Flash! Friday Vol 3 – 11: The Stalker

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;

Walter de la Mare (1873 – 1958 England)

Read the rest of the poem.

640px-Cara-oculta-luna — Dark Side of the Moon, by NASA, Apollo 16. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

The moon has fascinated both poets and scientists since the first human spotted it in the sky.We do not know for sure how the earth and the moon came into being, but there are two main theories proposed by the scientific community.

The first theory, called the ‘giant impact hypothesis’, which was developed by the Planetary Science Institute in the 1970s, claims that the Earth’s moon formed as the result of a colossal impact of a hypothetical planetary embryo, named Theia, with Earth, early in our Solar System’s history. More information on this theory.

The most recent theory, funded by the NASA Lunar Science Institute (NLSI), and published in 2012, proposes that the Earth and moon were both created together in a giant collision of two similar-sized bodies, which collided a second time forming an early Earth surrounded by a disk of material that combined to form the moon. More information on this theory.

381356main_image_1454_946-710 — An artist’s concept shows a celestial body about the size of our moon slamming at great speed into a body the size of Mercury.

Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

In any case, both poets and scientists have acknowledge the intimate relationship between the Earth and our Moon, and are searching for ways of either explaining our fascination, or providing proof of our common origin and mutual dependency.

For last Friday’s Flash! Fiction contest, our prompts were the word moon and the following sculpture.

liverpool-a-case-history — Liverpool — Hope Street. CC photo by Harshil Shah. Sculpture “A Case History” by John King.

The idea instantly came to my mind to combine the poetic symbolism of the moon and the scientific notion that both planets had a common origin.

In my flash fiction, the moon has become the lover who has been traumatically separated from his beloved. He cannot come close to her, but he can stalk her from a distance, because he still loves her and misses her, while he is patiently waiting for a longed for reunion.

The stalker

Let me watch over you.
I see you searching for my torch in the night, in wonder, in awe, perhaps even in fear.
Please don’t fear me. I’d never harm you.
You know I’ll always be there, faithful to you alone.
I can’t live with you, but neither can I live without you, so I have to stalk you.
You have understood and forgiven me.
I look forward to seeing your flashing eyes and hearing the murmur of your breathing.
Your beauty is stunning. I admire your patchwork dress and your flowing waves.
I love you.
I miss you.
I wish I were still with you, still part of you, as I used to be, as I was meant to be.
I cannot come to you yet, although you have visited me, on occasions.
You think little of me, because you consider me ugly and barren, and I am, compared to you.
But remember this; we were together once and you loved me, until we were torn apart.
I long for the day you will take up your suitcases, renew your hope in me, and bring life to my lonely planet.
You will come and I will be waiting, Earthlings.

200 words.

Would you like to read some of the other stories in this weeks’ Flash! Friday challenge?

Compassion in Jane Eyre

Jane Eyre was an orphan, who was brought up first by an unloving aunt, Mrs. Reed, and later at an institution for poor orphans, Lowood, before being employed as governess at Thornfield Hall.

Although Jane suffered hardships and humiliations, and found very little compassion at that time, her life was not in danger due to unbearable social circumstances until she made the decision to leave Thornfield Hall and venture into the world practically penniless, without any friends or family to turn to.

At that point in the novel, Jane Eyre’s life was in serious danger. Her life was saved thanks to the compassion and generosity of the Rivers family.

When Jane Eyre left Thornfield Hall at dawn, after discovering that Mr. Rochester was already married to Bertha Mason, she took only some bread and twenty shillings, which she spent on travelling as far away from Mr. Rochester as she could.

Jane’s life was seriously in danger, with no possibility of claiming the social benefits we are accustomed to today. In my previous post, I have already discussed some of the social injustices which were commonplace in the 19th century.

640px-P323b — St. John Rivers admits Jane to Moor House, by F. H. Townsend, 1868-1920.

Jane tried in vain to find employment as a servant in the villages she passed. Days later, starving, cold, exhausted, and desperate she says:

‘My strength is quite failing me,’ I said in a soliloquy. ‘I feel I cannot go much farther. Shall I be an outcast again this night? While the rain descends so, must I lay my head on the cold, drenched ground? I fear I cannot do otherwise: for who will receive me? But it will be very dreadful, with this feeling of hunger, faintness, chill, and this sense of desolation—this total prostration of hope. In all likelihood, though, I should die before morning.

She finally arrived at the door of the three Rivers siblings: St. John, a clergyman and his two sisters, Diana and Mary, who fortunately took her in out of compassion. It was in their house that Jane was finally allowed to rest in a warm bed:

I contrived to mount a staircase; my dripping clothes were removed; soon a warm, dry bed received me. I thanked God—experienced amidst unutterable exhaustion a glow of grateful joy—and slept.

The following morning, by Jane’s bedside, Mary and Diana discuss her condition, and her desperate situation is confirmed:

‘It is very well we took her in.’
‘Yes; she would certainly have been found dead at the door in the morning had she been left out all night. I wonder what she has gone through?’
‘Strange hardships, I imagine—poor, emaciated, pallid wanderer?’

Jane admits that if it had not been for them, she would have probably died.

I owe to their (Mary and Diana) spontaneous, genuine, genial compassion as large a debt as to your (St. John) evangelical charity.’

However, the Rivers had problems of their own. Shortly after this event, the three Rivers are forced to shut up and abandon Moor House, where they had lived all their lives, because their financial situation after their father’s death was precarious. St. John took over the parsonage, and Mary and Diana had to leave their home and their town in order to find jobs far away as governesses.

Jane is procured a job at the local Parish School. Months later, when Jane is informed, through Mr. Briggs, the solicitor who interrupted the bigamous wedding farce, that she has inherited twenty thousand pounds from her deceased uncle, John Eyre, she shared it in equal parts with the Rivers. She also recovered and renovated Moor House, where the Rivers, who were her discovered to be her cousins, returned to live with her.

She received compassion and returned their compassion by sharing her inheritance with them.

In the sequel I’ve written, All Hallows at Eyre Hall, Jane has grown into a socially conscious manager of the Rochester Estate, who spends a great deal of her time and money on the education and employment of poor children and orphans. I am convinced that she would have used her privileged financial and social position to help others, especially having experience much hardship herself.

Compassion cannot be taught, but it can be learnt from experience, or developed by building awareness.

Compassion in 19th Century England and Today

Today, 20th February, bloggers are taking part in the 1000 Voices for Compassion initiative, by blogging on the topic of compassion. Have a look at #1000Speak on twitter to read more about what other bloggers are writing about compassion in our lives today.

I’ve been thinking about compassion over the last two centuries, and how the concept has evolved, and finally what it means to me in my daily life.

There was little in the way of social security in the Georgian or Victorian era. In fact, the orphans, homeless, and unemployed of the time, were in danger of losing their health and their lives, by literally dying of cold and starvation. Another option was stealing, which they often inevitably had to indulge in, and could lead them to prison or the workhouse. Another option, especially for women, was prostitution, which would most often be a protracted death sentence.

NPG P301(19),Charles Dickens,by (George) Herbert Watkins — **Dickens at his desk, 1858, by George Herbert Watkins**

Compassion was the only option. Families, friends, neighbours, and generous and compassionate people had to be understanding, feel empathy, and assist those in need.

There are plenty of literary examples in fiction in novels many by Charles Dickens (Bleak House, Oliver Twist), Elizabeth Gaskell (Mary Barton, North and South), and Charlotte Bronte (Jane Eyre).

Other international authors such as Emile Zola, Balzac, Tolstoy, and Mark Twain, were also writing novels based on social issues.

There are also history books which sadly confirm these fictional accounts such as: Ideas of Childhood in Victorian Children’s Fiction: Orphans, Outcasts and Rebels The Workhouse Social issues in Victorian England

Nowadays we take the welfare state for granted. The social benefits we all share in Europe, by giving into the system through our taxes, and later redistributing it back into the system, with unemployment benefits, pensions, national health system, education system, etc., have greatly improved the quality of our lives.

This does not mean the system is perfect, or that we can shrug off our responsibility by saying, ‘I pay my taxes, I don’t need to be compassionate.’

So many people in the world, even in our own, developed countries, are experiencing the harshness of the economic recession. We cannot close our eyes to the severe social deprivation and injustices happening around the world. On the other hand, we cannot solve all the world’s problems.

But we can all do something which can help to make the world a better place. If we each do a little, we’ll all do a lot. In Spain people say, if we each add a grain of sand, we’ll all build a mountain.

Everyone needs to be compassionate, and everyone will be in need of compassion at some time.

The great thing about compassion is that you don’t need to go out of your way to be compassionate. It’s not something you have to do outside your daily life, because compassion is part of our lives.

I’m fortunate to be able to help many people every day in my job. I help adults who didn’t finish school, to get their secondary school-leaving certificates and learn some basic English. I also help others who have completed their Secondary education to pass their university entrance exams and improve their English, and thus their job prospects.

First I need to walk in their shoes, and then I need to help them reach their goals. None of them have had, or have, easy lives. Many are unemployed, have very low self-esteem, or serious learning difficulties.

It’s my job to teach them, but it’s my vocation to be compassionate, encouraging and caring.

We’ll all need compassion at some moment in our lives. We’ll all need a compassionate doctor, teacher, friend, colleague, etc., If we each care for those near us who need some, hopefully someone will also care for us, when our turn comes.

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction: Compassion

This week’s Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge deals with a much-needed topic: Compassion.

Charli reflects upon the meaning of compassion, bringing up such definitions such as “sorrow for the sufferings or trouble of another or others”. She points out that compassion unlike pity is “accompanied by an urge to help”, whereas pity “sometimes connotes slight contempt because the object is regarded as weak or inferior.”

She reminds us that “compassion is kind. It is merciful. It is loving. It is not withheld for the privileged few. It can even extend to horses and peat moss and all of life.”

She also introduces us to Rough Writers, Norah Colvin and Anne Goodwin, who bring our attention to two words that extend from compassion. Weltschmertz: “world pain” or the grief we feel at how the world keeps falling short of our expectations. Meliorism: having a belief that the world can be improved by the actions of humans. Anne sums up the interaction of the two words:

“Both are useful: weltschmerz enabling us to care enough about what’s wrong and meliorism driving us to try to do something about it.”

Charli concludes that this is what compassion looks like in action.

I also learned from her post about #1000Speak. It is a call for 1000 voices blogging for compassion on February 20. We are all encouraged to join in and post on compassion on our blogs and twitter accounts.

So this week’s Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge proposes stories that reveal compassion.

February 11, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that demonstrates compassion. You can explore weltschmerz (enabling us to care enough about what’s wrong) and meliorism (driving us to try to do something about it) if you want to explore those specific terms. Consider posting on February 20, too.

Respond by February 17, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

My own reflection is about how ‘far away’ and ‘unreal’ suffering may seem to children, thanks to the mass media, video games, Internet, etc.

As a teacher, I have often been amazed at how young people living in the comfortable and cozy ‘western world’, regard how many other homeless, hungry and war-stricken children live.

You can’t teach someone to be compassionate, but you can make them aware of how other children, just like them, are suffering in other parts of the world, and hopefully, compassion will grow…

This is my 99-word contribution:

I closed the storybook.
“The writer depicts a poor, hungry, and frightened little match girl with bare head and naked feet in the snow, lighting matches to keep warm, before finally dying while sitting against a wall on the pavement.”
“That happened a long time ago, Mrs. Smith. It doesn’t happen anymore.”
I turned on the projector.
“The journalist was killed after watching a little baby’s horrific death. She saw shells, rockets and tank fire during the massacre.”
“Wars are different.”
“It’s never different. It’s the same over and over; greed, hate, violence, suffering, and worst of all…. indifference.”

Flash! Friday Vol 3 – 10: Androcles, the Lion, the Kitten, and the Gladiator!

George Bernard Shaw is my second-favourite playwright.

It all started at school, when we had to read Androcles and the Lion, surprisingly at a R.C. Convent school. The play humorously and ironically portrays different types of Christians, and criticizes the hypocrisy and absurdity of some practices and beliefs.

Lavinia has some is brilliant lines. For example, when the Emperor visits the Christians who are about to be martyred:

Lavinia: Blessing, Caesar, and forgiveness!
Caesar: (turning in some surprise at the salutation) There is no forgiveness for Christianity.
Lavinia: I did not mean that, Caesar. I mean that we forgive you.
Metellus: An inconceivable liberty! Do you not know, woman, that the Emperor can do no wrong and therefore can not be forgiven?
Lavinia: I expect the Emperor knows better. Anyhow, we forgive him.
The Christians: Amen!
Or:
The Captain: A martyr, Lavinia, is a fool. Your death will prove nothing.
Lavinia: Then why kill me?”

Later, on my own initiative, I read a few more of his plays, courtesy of my local library; Man and Superman, A Doctor’s Dilema (my second favourite of his plays), Pygmalion, Saint Joan, and Mrs. Warren’s Profession.

I actually saw this one at the Old Vic. Those were the days…

But the play I enjoyed most was Candida. I was nineteen when I first saw Deborah Kerr playing the main role in London’d West End, and I imagined myself playing that part (I wanted to be an actress then). I waited for hours at the back stage door for her autograph on my programme, and it was worth it, although she never came anywhere near my programme.

This Programme is 37 years old! I can’t believe I’ve kept it (and found it) after all these years…

She offered us a smile, which I can still remember, and was wafted away like a feather into the London skyline.

Now, I’m the right age to play the part (a year younger than Ms Kerr), but I’m in the wrong profession, unless I ever join an amateur dramatics group and convince them to put it on. There’s an idea!

Back to Androcles. Last Friday’s Flash! Friday prompt was a Gladiator and a picture of a cute kitten. This is what I came up with, inspired by my dear G. B. Shaw and his Androcles, both of whom seem to have been forgotten to younger generations, so let’s remind them about the story…

My entry for Flash! Friday 13th February

“So, is this flash fiction about gladiators?”
“It’s about a guy called Androcles who was a Christian in pagan Rome. He saw a lion with a huge thorn stuck in its paw.”
“A lion in Rome?”
“There were lions everywhere then. It was a wild and savage world. No electricity, running water, or mobiles. So Androcles took out the lion’s thorn and they become friends.”
“Friends?”
“This is a fable; a story including animals, with a meaning.”
“And what’s the meaning?”
“You’ll know when I finish telling you the plot. Androcles was taken prisoner. The Romans didn’t believe in free speech or freedom of religion.”
“Poor lion, lost a nice owner.”
“The lion was taken prisoner, too. Lions were used in the coliseum to fight with the gladiators, sometimes they ate up Christians too, for enjoyment.”
“A gladiator at last!”
“Chance would have it that Androcles and the lion came face to face in combat.”
“No kidding! I bet the lion remembered Androcles and refused to fight.”
“Exactly! He purred like a kitty when he saw him. How did you guess?”
“Because in all the films I’ve seen, it’s the gladiator who does all the killing. I suppose the gladiator does away with both of them, right?”

No drama this week 🙂

Would you like to read some of this weeks’ other entries? Check them out here

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction: Nutty Aunts

I’m back at Carrot Ranch, joining in the short fiction challenge. Thank you for having me 🙂

Thanks Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch for organizing and for for this week’s prompt!

Nutty Aunts

I used to have ten aunts. Now unfortunately only two are still alive. Although I was fond of all of them, I never had a very close relationship with any of them because I never lived in the same city, region, or even country as any of them. I used to see them mostly during the holidays.

The good thing about seeing relatives only during summer vacations is that we usually had fun and loving memories; picnics at the beach, sharing ice-cream for breakfast, outings to the nearby countryside, games in the evenings, and pillow fights with my cousins!

On the other hand there were also the typical family squabbles, tantrums, and skeletons in the cupboard that occasionally ruined the fun.

This might have happened, or I might have imagined it…

Aunt Lucy (99 words)

“Your sister should have married.”
“She’s perfectly happy on her own.”
“I suppose you can’t blame anyone for not wanting to live with her, can you?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s as mad as a hatter.”
“What a horrible thing to say! She’s not mad. She’s just different.”
“Look at her clothes and her sixty-year-old hippy friends. They still smoke pot for crying out loud! Thank God we had the sense to adopt her child so she could have a normal life.”
The door opened.
“I wondered when you were going to tell me Aunt Lucy was my mother.”

Sorry it’s a little dramatic. I think it’s the winter that does it to me!

But fear not and remember Shelley’s words:

In response to Charli’s prompt over at the Carrot Ranch The prompt February 4, 2015 prompt:

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a nutty aunt. What makes her nutty? Is it the situation she’s in or a quirky habit? She can be anybody’s aunt. Maybe she’s really somebody’s uncle but wants to be an aunt. Maybe it’s the name of a cowpoke’s horse, a hockey team or a village pub. Follow where the prompt leads.

Respond by February 10, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

Flash! Friday Contest and King Sisyphus

I’m back again! I’ve taken part in most Flash Friday Contests since last summer, but this is my first one this year!

What do Flash Friday Contest and King Sisyphus have in common?

Basically the recurrent and repetitive nature of the challenge they face. So, is that a good thing or not? Isn’t everything we do repeated periodically… incessantly? What’s new in our lives? in the history of humanity?

Life often seems monotonous and disheartening. We do essentially the same things day after day, endlessly. We have the illusion of moving forward, and then we have to start all over again.

Winter with its leafless trees and barren fields reminds us of death, and the inevitable cycle of life, and long cold evenings invite our minds to search for impossible answers to eternal questions…

640px-Punishment_sisyph — Sisyphus by Titian (1548–49) by Titian, Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain

The repetitive nature of life reminded me, once again, of what happened to the avaricious, deceitful, and murderous King Sisyphus. Zeus condemned him to roll a huge enchanted boulder up a steep hill, and once he reached the top the boulder rolled downhill again. Sisyphus followed it back down and resumed his useless task, time and time again.

Albert Camus, became my favourite writer when I read La Chute for my French ‘A’ level, as a teenager, and my appreciation grew when I was studying French, at College. In his 1942 essay The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus introduces his philosophy of the absurd, comparing the absurdity of man’s life with Sisyphus’s futile occupation.

On his way down, burdenless, Sisyphus searches for meaning in an incomprehensible world devoid of God and eternal truths or values, while on his way up he is occupied with the unachievable task: the boulder will never stay at the top.

In spite of this, according to Camus, Sisyphus is finally happy because he has understood and accepted his absurd fate. In other words, the knowledge and acceptance that life is a meaningless task with no hope of completion, is our only chance of happiness. Or is it?

I still admire Camus’s insatiable search for the meaning of life, however, I used to think I wasn’t so pessimistic or critical, any more. Perhaps because I have children and grandchildren, who have given my life another perspective, or perhaps because over thirty years have passed, and my rebellious search for a rational explanation to the ‘meaning of life’, has been dulled.

Yet last Friday, something happened. I saw a picture and wrote a story, and I realized that Camus’ ‘absurd’ is more ingrained in my subconscious, than I thought.

Photo prompt Flash Friday Fiction Challenge 6th February

Dragons bidding

My entry: North and South.

I looked over the barren fields, dry wells, famished cattle, and dug my blackened nails into the thick, crumbly earth. My parched lips made a last feeble effort to cry for mercy.

I remembered how just before the meteor struck our planet, she had appeared and walked through me. I felt a shudder and my body froze for less than an instant.

“Ask and it shall be given,” she said.
“I want to live,” I begged.
“Go south,” she whispered and was gone.

That’s why I was there, dying in the waterless south.
Once again, I sensed the shadow of the spectre approach.

“Ask and it shall be given,” she teased.
“Water,” I implored. “My people need water.”
“Go north,” she whispered and left.

I turned to my people and said, “We must go north.”
They followed hopefully.

When we arrived, the streets were wet. We rejoiced and drank, and thanked the Gods.

The next day, the flooding started. Within days we were living in boats, frantically searching for dry land.

The fleeting ghost returned once more.

“Ask and it shall be given,” she smiled.
“Will it always be like this?” I cried.
She nodded and left.

@LucciaGray (200 words).

Want to To read some of the other stories? You’ll find them here

I’d like to finish on a more optimistic note. I’m sure we can be happy, but only Today.

Today is all we have, so make the most of it.

Have a wonderful day!

Book Launch! Don’t Forget to Breathe by Cathrina Constantine

Today it’s my pleasure to take part in another Book Launch. I’d like to introduce you to Cathrina Constantine’s new novel Don’t Forget to Breathe.

Blurb for Don’t Forget to Breathe by Cathrina Constantin:

Sixteen-year-old Leocadia arrives home from school to find her mom’s bloody body. Unaware that the killer still lingers, she rushes to her mother’s side, only to be grabbed from behind and then everything fades to black.

After a year of retrograde amnesia and battling personal demons, Leo’s dreams are getting worse—she’s starting to remember. More bodies are discovered and they seem to be oddly linked to her mom’s unsolved homicide.

When Leo allows her friend, Henry to drag her into the haunted Lucien Mansion, misty ghosts appear, ghosts that just might lead to her mother’s murderer.

Will Leo let her memories threaten her into a relapse or, will she fight to find her mother’s killer – only to become his next victim?

Author Bio:

Cathrina Constantine resides in Western New York with her husband, five children, two Labrador Retrievers and two cats. Author @BlackOpalBooks & @CHBB_Vamptasy.

Her current books: WICKEDLY THEY COME, WICKEDLY THEY DREAM, TALLAS, And her newest novel from @CHHB_Vamptasy DON’T FORGET TO BREATHE.

When not with her family or stationed at the computer writing, you will find her walking in the backwoods with her dogs, conjuring up a new tale.

Contact or find out more about Cathrina Constantine:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wickedly333
Blog: http://cathrinaconstantine.blogspot.com
Twitter: @cathconstantine

My Review of Don’t Forget to Breathe by Cathrina Constantine (4 Stars)

Finding your mother’s dead body, and realizing you saw and heard her murderer, although you can’t remember anything, is enough to devastate anyone, but especially our young heroine, Leocadia, who has grown into a confused and traumatized adolescent.

In addition, her father’s neglectful attitude to parenting (he obviously has his own problems), and her lack of any supportive adults, leads her to make some questionable decisions which will put her in danger, and even face to face with her mother’s killer.

She learns the hard way that her parents were not the ideal people she had envisaged in her childhood, and also comes across some destructive characters at her school, although fortunately she has some caring friends, too.

I had a hard time understanding the things Leo did, and how she coped, wanting to shout at her too many times! On the other hand, I really cared and worried about her and wanted to know what would happen.

This novel is well-written, engaging and exciting, and there are some suspenseful moments when everyone seems guilty of her mother’s murder. There are also some spine-tingling scenes in the cemetery and a haunted house.

I don’t usually read YA novels, in fact, this is the first one I’ve read in a long time. I felt sorry for the young people for seemingly not having much support or understanding from their elders. As an adult, I would have liked to have been able to identify or sympathise with an adult character.

On the other hand, the characters and events are convincingly portrayed, it’s entertaining, exciting, and has some paranormal and gripping moments, and I’m sure young adults will identify with Leo’s issues and enjoy this novel.

Amazon US link

Amazon UK link

Insecure Writer’s Support Group: First Wednesday of the Month Blog Hop

Why is writing a second novel more challenging than a first novel?

I have to begin by reminding myself of the things I’ve learned about writing a first novel and self-publishing… the hard way

When I started writing my first novel and in July 2013, I never imagined there would be so much more than writing involved in being a published writer.

I imagined I’d be writing most of the time, and alone all of the time.

Wrong on both counts!

I was misled, because writing on my own was actually what I had been doing for four months, while I wrote my first draft (I didn’t really know exactly what a first draft was back then!).

When I finished (or rather thought I’d finished) my novel in October, 2013, I didn’t really know what to do with it, at all, so I searched on the Internet.

I found advice on other blogs and on specific Goodreads groups, which I had joined earlier in the year.

I gradually ‘lurked’ less and became more interactive by starting my own blog. I already had a personal Facebook account, so I set up a professional profile. I had a Twitter account, which I had been neglecting, taking it up again with renewed enthusiasm!

So I met and started networking with other writers.

A couple of months later, by January 2014, I had learnt that I needed, a cover designer, beta readers, an editor, and a proof reader, at the very least, as well as advice and support from other writers.

I caught on quickly, I’m a very sociable person in real life, so it wasn’t difficult for me to make friends virtually.

Writing is definitely not a solitary endeavour.

I’ve found that I need my writer friends for moral and practical support, for advice, for their knowledge, enthusiasm, criticism, and to feel part of a group and profession.

This is naturally reciprocal, or it will fizzle out. Friendship, whether ‘real’ or ‘virtual’ cannot be a one-way street. I also need and want to give back as much as I can.

I believe that the wonderful people I’ve met, and the literally hundreds of novels I’ve read over the last two years, have made this unexpectedly tough journey as rewarding as producing my novel.

Of course all this interaction slowed everything down, and I didn’t actually publish All Hallows at Eyre Hall until May 2014.

I thought that was it. I’d published and done the social network thing, so now I could go back to my corner and continue with my second novel.

Wrong again.

I realised I still need to market my novel, and keep up with Goodreads, facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, my blog, and the blogs I follow.

I also need to read. In fact I spend much more time reading than writing. Firstly because I need to read what my writer friends are writing; secondly, I need to know what readers are reading; thirdly I need to keep learning my craft; and finally I love reading even more than writing.

No wonder writing the second novel is more difficult than writing the first one!

Writing novels is not what writers do most of the time, and writing is definitely not a solitary endeavour.

I have to keep up with my social media, keep promoting my first book, carry on with my ‘real’ life as a teacher, mother, and grandmother, read, and write my second novel.

There’s another drawback. The second (and subsequent books) make you into a ‘real author’. Can you do it again? Can you do better this time?

Readers, writers, and the public at large now expect much more from you. You’re no longer a ‘debut author’: You’re an author and you’re expected to progress in your career.

It’s a lot of work and a lot of pressure…

Right now I’m about half way through my second book…. And I’ve no idea if I’ll ever finish it…. If I’m good enough to do it twice…. If it’s worth it….

Well, there it is. I got it off my chest. I’ve expressed all my doubts and fears, for the moment! More ranting next month! Or perhaps I’ll have something more positive to say… lots of words can be written in thirty days, can’t they?

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

If anyone else would like to take part in this monthly Insecure Writer’s Support Group Blog hop, details below:

Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds! Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time.

Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!

Our Twitter hashtag is #IWSG

How to find time to write a novel, with help from Stephen King

I prefer reading to writing.

That’s only natural. It’s easier and more enjoyable to read. Someone else has done all the hard work and you just lap it up and enjoy.

No wonder my favourite moment of the day is curling up on my armchair with my kindle, preferably by the fireplace, with a cup of tea or hot chocolate 🙂

I work full time. I’m a wife, mother and grandmother, and I’ve managed to read over ten books in January. Nevertheless, as much as I love it, I have to stop reading so much because my time is limited, and I need find time to write, too.

Following Stephen King’s advice;
“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

In his marvelous book, On Writing, (you can read some of the main points he makes in this article), King recommends writing a minimum of a thousand words, six days a week.

That’s between two and four hours a day, depending on how much you can write in an hour, which for me at least, depends on how much has been planned, handwritten, and thought out, before I start hitting the keyboard.

This cannot be done without setting specific goals, which King strongly recommends. (For more invaluable quotes taken on the craft of writing, check out Goodreads).

In any case, I’m going to strictly limit the amount of time I spend reading to no more than two hours a day, preferably just before bedtime, when my energy levels are lowest and I can indulge in a relatively passive activity.

I also need to log onto Facebook and Twitter, and write blog posts and read other blogs, because I enjoy it, and because it has become part of my writer’s life.

Again, I need to limit social media time to Twitter and Facebook thirty minutes twice a day, and reading and interacting with other blogs and bloggers, an hour a day.

That means I’ll spend the rest of my free time, which should be at least another three hours a day, finishing my second novel, Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall.

I’ll have to sort out how I find the time to write my blog posts, too! Weekends perhaps?

In any case, I promise myself not to cut down on my writing time. I’ll have to sacrifice reading, social media, and other leisure time activities. Never writing.

King considers that the first draft should not take longer than three months.

I absolutely agree, even though I haven’t managed to get very far in the last six months! Oh yes, it’s all planned, and parts are written, but I need to get it together with lots of hard work.

Finally, I’ll take his last bit of advice: The only way to write is by writing one word at a time.

So be it! I’ll write one word at a time nonstop for two months until it’s finished. I’m giving myself two months instead of three because I’ve already had six months of planning, scribbling, and procrastinating!

My deadline is 29th March.

Wish me luck!

How do you find time to write?

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this:

Rate this:

Share this: