Adapting...

... for Knots in the String

Jun 08, 2022

I saw an interesting exchange on social media the other day about the way life changes and how authors have to adapt if they want to cobble together writing time.

It prompted me to think that Life evolves. With personal evolution comes a different emphasis. I had to compromise when my life changed but the interesting thing is that I don’t begrudge the changes now, although it did take time to adapt.

The changes have given me (and therefore my writing) a deeper dimension. It might take me longer to write a book because of a vastly different life plan, but I think that fresh dimension, that new experience, that enhanced life view, makes my writing better.

Many years ago, I found a quote ‘Don’t bend the river’ and it became my mantra for the tough times.

On googling it today, I found no reference, but I did find this: ‘Don’t push the river, it flows by itself’ – a Chinese proverb. It’s basically the same thing when you deconstruct it, and it has relevance to my theory of personal evolution.

My husband developed cancer (he survived), he had a shocking farm accident (he survived – just), we had a grandson and so on. These events changed my approach to writing hugely. Life was tenuous and Time couldn’t be tied down. instead of spending every spare moment writing a novel, I wanted to sit and watch the sea in all its sparkling glory, I wanted to watch the river flow past in all its seasons. I wanted to play with my grandson and watch him grow, to be with my husband while we were fit and able. To build my gardens, to listen to bush-birds, to re-learn ballet, to stitch, cook, make new and lifelong friends.

Writing used to define my very existence. Now I’m defined only by my energy levels for that day. I began to dislike sitting inside for hours on end at the computer – I begrudged that. I wanted to still love the word, to have words form into stories in my head and eventually into a Work in Progress, but the frenetic need to finish and release a book annually changed. Once I used to write in the darkling hours when the house was quiet or I had a set time when I used to sit to write every day.

No longer. I write when I feel like it.

I have evolved. I don’t push the river. What I do is walk along the river-bank, find a pleasant spot under a weeping willow to sit and watch the flow.

Maybe I’m growing up as I grow older…

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Bookshelves:

On Kindle, I’ve begun Nancy Bilyeau’s Fugitive Colours ‘set in the fevered art world of 1764 London, where painters would go to any lengths for money and power and tells what happens when one woman artist takes on this dangerous world.’

I loved Bilyeau’s The Blue. On release, this became my Book of the Year. Fugitive Colours takes up Genevieve’s story where The Blue concluded.

I still have Michie’s Buddhism for Busy People on the go and read a few paras every day.

Nancy K Maguire’s The Monk’s Widow requires a certain mood and dedication to read this superb memoir, so I will take my time.

And I’m longing to return to Henry Beston’s The Outermost House.

What a tremendous shelf of words! I feel quite lucky.

On audio, I’m listening to Ben Kane’s King, the final in the Lionheart Trilogy, beautifully read by Philip Stevens. Kane is as excellent as ever in rendering king Richard meticulously!

Being set in my own timeframe, I’m very familiar with the history and love the way I’m being reminded of Richard’s journey through the eyes of his Irish knight, Rufus/Ferdia.

(As an aside, I think my narrator for Tobias, Greg Patmore, holds his own with Stevens. Tobias’ story mentions Richard as well.)

Watching:

The Platinum Jubilee – four nights of it, courtesy of BBC Britbox. Yes, I’m a royalist.

In the Millington House on either side of the fireplace in the 1950’s when I was a youngster, the bookshelves used to be filled with my grandmother’s royal books. All the women in the family were royal and loyal and I was indoctrinated very early. Many a cold winter’s night was spent with the fire crackling, flames jumping and royal books lying around me as I lay on the old chaise longue.

I’ve never changed – I happen to believe in a non-political head of state. And certainly politics and presidencies around the world haven’t changed my mind.

Documentaries on HM the Queen via Britbox.

The Great Pottery Throwdown. Skilled ceramicists in action.

Boredom Busters:

The weather! I love the snow, the cold and piling on layers of insulation. I have a cameo-coloured ski jacket with a hood lined in taupe fur. I can’t wait to pull it on!

I hope we go snow hunting at least once over the next few days. I find the eerie silence of snow falling, the filigree patterns of frost and snow on twigs and leaves, the crunch as one steps along – it’s a part of weather we rarely see here, so when it comes we indulge ourselves completely.

Stitching the next glasses case for my other specs. Orange and navy silks with cream seed pearl trim.

Making felt hearts for the Sexual Assault Support Service here in our city. I find it so sad that so many women and men require such support. This is a bloody awful world sometimes.

Walking the gardens and observing the bulbs spiking above the soil and shrub buds forming up for spring.

In the Kitchen – a light Jubilee meal – ribbon sandwiches, Prince William’s birthday cake.

Marie Kondo-ing my wardrobe. Anything that didn’t give me joy or that I hadn’t worn for a year has gone to charity.

Feeling the change as pain becomes discomfort, half the stitches are taken out and I am told the surgeon got all the cancer.

Writing – I’ve written about 1000 words of Oak Gall and Gold (working title) this last few days and am content with the result. Brother Bruno is developing into a fully-fledged character. It takes me about 50,000 words (almost halfway) before I know if I have a story and it relies entirely on my editor’s opinion. Almost there…

On Substack:

Tom Ryan