Will I ever...? A writer's life. 5-9 August.
MONDAY
Creaking?
Usual early morning love-in with dog, where we spend half an hour sitting nose-to-nose in bed before we have to get up and face the day. I sing silly songs, play with her little, soft ears, and talk rubbish at her while she stares at me with unblinking intensity. She’s either thinking, ‘Oh my God, that VOICE! You’re better than Beyoncé!’…or, ‘Crikey, it’s possibly something seriously gastric, judging by the hideous yowling. I’ll keep Hooman under close observation for a bit longer, and if she doesn’t shut up I’ll fetch help, Lassie-style…’
(Yes, I’m well aware I’m mental – but I suspect it’s probably too late to change me now.)
The Saga of The Gammy Foot continues. Following X-rays, more agonising poking and prodding, another three doctors staring at it ruminatively and scratching their heads, the latest conclusion is that I’m suffering the early symptoms of arthritis. Whilst very relieved there isn’t some dangerous tropical microbe ravaging my system and slowly rotting my extremities off, it’s hardly the diagnosis one wants at More-than-21-less-than-100. Thought arthritis was something old people got. Do I need to recalibrate my thinking? Am I now ‘old people’ and haven’t yet realised?
In defiance of the possibility, I’ve ramped up my exercise regime (a bit like a very-low-budget Demi Moore), as if this alone will hold back the march (or should I say the limp?) of time. Can’t run (usually an excellent fast fitness fix), because of stupid pain in stupid foot, so hardcore power-yoga here I come! For those who don’t think yoga is a workout, please Google ‘Shiva Rea’ or ‘Duncan Wong’ – you’ll soon change your mind.
TUESDAY
Saying goodbye.
Long-time friend on ‘phone today heartbroken because he had to have his dog put down. She was seriously ill with bad cancer – big tumours pressing on her spine and causing her considerable discomfort. What he did was a kindness, in my opinion. She wasn’t ever going to get better. She couldn’t enjoy what little life she had left. It’s sensible to put a timely end to pain and misery if it’s within your power, but an understandably hard decision to make. You feel guilty ‘playing God’. There’s nothing worse than going into the Vet’s with a dog, and coming out with a collar and lead. People without pets don’t understand. They say, “you can get another dog”. Yes, you can, and you’ll love it…but the new dog won’t be the unswervingly loyal buddy you had to say goodbye to. Animals are just like humans. They have characters and personalities that make them individuals. One dog doesn’t ‘replace’ another.
So, on my friend’s behalf, I’d like to say RIP to Ruby, his cheeky little Chihuahua. I know he’ll miss her very particular way of making his day – just like I miss my old girl, Lola, and still think about her.
Pets are family – better than family, if anything. If you don’t understand what I mean by that, then you probably shouldn’t have one (a pet, I mean. You can’t avoid your family.)
WEDNESDAY
Rock God Dad.
As my Orcadian love-triangle romance Against All Odds has been on my mind, I thought I’d share a companion Blog post I did a while ago. It isn’t a section of the book, but rather something I imagine happened later, a year or two after the time that the novel is set.
It views the characters from a different perspective, bringing another voice into the narrative. Might it be the beginnings of a sequel?
I do my own head in with this stuff sometimes. I have so many ideas for books, I can’t possibly ever write them all down and still eat, sleep, exercise, walk the dog, pay the gas bill etc, etc. If I had a Dictaphone and recorded all my plot ideas on it, I’m convinced the poor thing’d explode, or melt; or both.
This particular post is called #RockGodDad and #TheEvilStepmom. Enjoy.
If you’d like to understand exactly what it’s all about, I don’t have room to explain here. You’ll have to read Against All Odds.
https://www.annieholder.com/against-all-odds
THURSDAY
Light at the end of the tunnel.
Another lovely message about Many The Miles from a lady reading it at the moment on Kindle. She says she’s ‘gripped’. Fantastic!
I say my hide is thick – and indeed it is a lot of the time – but I’m clearly still helplessly and needily bobbing about on the peaks and troughs of reader feedback to a certain extent. A lovely review buoys me up deliriously for ages, and this one delivered the impetus I’d been lacking to get on with my carefully chosen few UK agent pitches for Many The Miles. I’ll freely admit I procrastinate terribly over submissions. The whole process is a rollercoaster – from the headache of niggly admin, through the heady anticipation of hope, to the heartache of rejection. However, if I don’t make the effort, I’ll never get any further than I am now – and I want more than that for my career. As comedienne Sarah Millican once said, “Don’t wait for the light at the end of the tunnel. Stomp on down there and turn the f***er on yourself.”
FRIDAY
Home improvement.
Given the whole you-might-already-have-arthritis-and-be-past-it thing, I’m working on myself at the moment. Not in a plastic surgery sense, you understand…more to give me a general feeling of greater wellbeing. I’m certainly increasingly active, and definitely shovelling less food down my neck – thus ensuring I feel much livelier and less like a pudding. I’m also trying to smarten myself up. To normal people, what I’m doing might not seem like much. To me, it’s a revolutionary departure from my habitual state of scruffiness. I’m actually bothering to get dressed every day – and I don’t just mean out of my pyjamas into my tracksuit in order to walk the dog without getting too many funny looks. No, I mean real, proper clothes, and selecting jewellery to go with them. I’m also not putting my pyjamas on the minute I get home again, but endeavouring to stay in my outfit all day, like a grown-up. Currently, I feel as if I’m playing dressing-up in someone else’s stuff; an actor in costume. I wonder if not being a slob will ever become second nature?
The other thing I’m doing is trying to cook. For me, ‘cooking’ has previously meant toast, or warming something up in the microwave to put on top of the toast…but now I’ve started making things. I’m crap at it, and the so-called meals don’t turn out anything like I thought they would, but they are edible (still alive so far), and it’s the process that’s giving me pleasure; the simple act of sticking a good play on the radio, feeling the summer breeze blowing in through the open kitchen door, and appreciating the time to clear my mind – so often chock-full of nonsense scribble I can’t make head or tail of.
Am trying not to get hung up on the destination, but just enjoy the journey.
Annie Holder writes pacey thrillers, twist-filled crime novels, and unconventional romances – set all over the world.
You can find out more about her books at www.annieholder.com, and follow her on Instagram www.instagram.com/alhwriter/