Where have all the words gone? I know the answer to that question. The ones from my first attempt at a novel are in intensive care.
They haven’t responded well to their surgery and are languishing in disarray.
All the new words in my “inspirational thoughts” journal are sulking like recalcitrant teenagers behind their comfy Moleskine jacket. Nothing will tempt them outside.
think hope “normal service” will be resumed soon but, just for the moment, the photographs will have to suffice.
Work on rejuvenating the willows started a few years ago, work on the hazels will begin soon.
We have been waiting for rain; it has fallen within ten miles of us but our ground has remained parched. The moon rose with spectacular glory shortly after 10pm last night and about 3 hours later I was woken by the sound of steady rain. Only a few months ago this would have filled me with dread as our house narrowly escaped flooding twice this spring. This morning the plants are looking perky and the House Martins no longer need to visit the pond for material to carry out their ongoing house repairs; a sense of balance has returned.
I was in journal heaven for two hours this afternoon; I sat in my garden with three of them, one for my novel, one for plants and one for wildlife.
Novel first. I was scoring chapters; when I innocently typed my way through the first draft, periodically revising sections as I went along to produce a sound base for my first major editing of the story, I had no idea writers “scored” their chapters by rating the scenes for speed and light. I had instinctively moved between quiet, intimate scenes, action-packed intimate scenes, conversational or action scenes with lots of characters and so on. The more articles I have read about pacing your novel, the more blogs I have read about a writer’s anxiety that their story arc is not ‘on an upward trend’ or the pace of their book is too even, the more insecure I have felt about the construction of my own story. The editing I started in mid-March now seems totally inadequate so I have renumbered everything in smaller parts and described each scene in more detail. Today I began scoring them in my journal; against all the odds I found I enjoyed doing it.
Plants. On Wednesday I had a delivery of plants, lots of them, carefully packed in flats and peeping out of damp newspaper . Only other plant-mad people will understand the joy of unwrapping each one, finding the right-sized pot and standing them somewhere shady to acclimatize for a couple of days prior to planting out. Today I entered their names in my journal; I know they are all listed on my laptop in the order confirmation email and I no longer need to hand-write the list but I have been doing this since 1983 and the feeling of continuity is comforting.
Wildlife (and plants). I sat by a border that is allowed to contain thistles until their seeds are about to disperse at which point they are hacked down and removed from the garden. There is also purple sage, a buddleia alternifolia and the wonderful rose ‘William Lobb’ in this border so the scent is superb and there is an almost constant stream of insects and butterflies passing by. The photos below are of this border. I have identified the butterfly as a female Small Tortoiseshell but if you disagree feel free to say so; she looks a bit ragged round the edges . There were also lots of comma butterflies and others flitting about I did not manage to identify because I was writing. I recorded the ones I identified in my wildlife journal along with all the other species I had seen today; I do this a couple of times a month between March and October.
So, my secret’s out; I’m a Journal Junkie.
If you like these photos please feel free to use them.
About ten days ago I was upset by an answerphone message, left on our phone by someone I was voluntarily helping, a message that showed such a callous disregard for my feelings it left me reeling, as if I had been punched in the face. I think I might have coped better with being punched, as then I would have seen it coming and had a chance to duck or at least brace myself for the impact.
I did not realize how emotionally bruised I was until last weekend when I sat down to continue editing Ellie’s story and I couldn’t work on it, my thoughts were all jumbled. I tried starting on a new short piece but I just felt empty, devoid of creativity. On Sunday morning I set off with a journal to sit in the wonderful gardens at Waterperry and watch the world go by; on a sunny summer Sunday there is always a diverse range of visitors to inspire scenarios.
Sat on the white bench under the Wisteria I scribbled down ideas as people drifted by; the more I scribbled the better I felt. I won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt anymore, when you make someone a gift of your free time and they turn on you it leaves you feeling violated, but I’ve put it into perspective and regained control of my thoughts.
These point&shoot pictures were just to remind me of this therapeutic visit to a beautiful place; if you like them feel free to use them.
You need to keep one eye on the sky round here!
All photographs are copyright Lynne Revette Butler.
All photographs are copyright Lynne Revette Butler
Have you all made a promise for World Oceans Day?