NaNoWriMo

As a child I wrote stories all the time or made up scenarios and got my toys to act them out. As teenager I wrote the opening pages of a hundred novels that never got any further. I wrote poetry full of teen angst. I wrote stories at school. I did a creative writing course during sixth form. I wrote an excellent short story for A Level English Language which scored an A and then…

Nothing. Maybe the odd poem here and there. Factual diary entries. Reports and press releases for work. No fiction though. Occasionally the idea for a story would occur to me and I’d think about it but I never even got as far as putting pen to paper.

This summer I began writing fiction again. It’s almost as if suddenly I’ve got things to write about. Like I opened up the stories floating around in the ether and they came running back to me. I don’t know if writing a blog has helped. Maybe. Maybe not.

I’ve got few things I’m working on. But those are going to be put aside during November. I have signed up for National Novel Writing Month. Between 1-30 November I will attempt to write a 50000 novel. Quantity is apparently more important than quality so I’m looking forward to seeing what forced creativity can do.

P.S. I’m really doing it so I can have one of those cute widgets on my blog letting everyone know how much I’ve churned out.

Visiting my past

My house is currently looking extremely cluttered. This is not my fault. Honestly.

My Grandfather died a few weeks ago. This mean that the contents of his house (which have been in storage for some months) had to be dealt with. Additionally my parent’s are moving house after 35 years. It would appear that they kept all of my childhood toys (the place was groaning with care bears, my little ponies, sweet secrets and more) I also seem to have gotten in on the hoarding thing myself. They uncovered boxes in their loft that I had packed between my first and second year at university.

The end result is that a large number of boxes and some pieces of furniture have arrived at my house for sorting. It’s been interesting sorting through them. I had several scrapbooks and folders devoted to Bros. Additionally, I also collected information on Jason Donovan, Tommy Page and Twin Peaks. Clearly, My vocation should have been a role in a press cuttings agency.

Having so much extra stuff to deal has made me consider clutter that I was already hoarding. Some of it is stuff that I packed away in January (but somehow no longer want). Much of it consists of items given to me as gifts that I feel morally obliged to hang onto.

Today I took a stash of old earrings into work and was thrilled when people picked out some of my old favourites to keep. It’s so nice to see something that you once loved but no longer use gain a fresh lease of life.

Much is going to a charity shops but I will try some items on ebay. I wonder if there is a market a signed Jason Donovan 12”? Or a Bros Christmas box?

It’s been fun revisiting my past but I’ll be glad when it’s taken care of so that I can get on with the future.

P.S. Anyone interested in a wardrobe or a dressing table?

My Mother’s Wedding Dress

I’ve just finished reading My mother’s Wedding Dress by Justine Picardi. It wasn’t quite what I expected. I’d read a magazine article had written about the book. It featured lots of pictures of clothes she had worn in the past and her reminiscing about how she felt when wearing them, why she bought them and how she felt about them now. I expected the book to be more of the same.

Instead the book was both angry and bewildered in tone. Picardi was clearly affected deeply by her sister’s death (and who wouldn’t be) and this theme of loss is one that runs throughout the book. She also seems to be rather obsessed with feathers.

However I intend to use what I expected the book to be about as inspiration for future blog entries. It made me think about clothes in books I read as a child. My favourite Enid Blyton story was The Enchanted Cloak (from Tales after Tea). I had a purple crocheted cloak (where is it now?) that I called by the name and used in endless games.

I remember the Fossil sisters in Ballet Shoes (Noel Stratfield) needing dresses for auditions. I remember Pagan, in Lace, taking her dead father’s clothes from the attic and finding a use for them and Maxim’s wonderful French style. I think Lace was the book that made me wear black and white for years because it claimed it was the best way to stand out I newspaper photographs (for maximum impact, wear stripes!). This was clearly before newspapers all had colour photographs. In fact, I’m sure I would of embraced a catalogue that came with my copy of Easy Living this month. All the clothes in it were black or white. I doubt I would have actually bought anything but I would have kept it next to my bed as a style bible.