Category: Writing

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

A lock down anthology: when this is all over…

The other day I made time to sit down and read through Writing Magazine. Inside was a lovely idea from Jan Moran Neil for a lock down anthology. It will be called When this is all over… she welcomes a selection of poetry and prose of no more than 200 words. ‘Your thoughts, wishes, hopes, reflections on this time.’ janmoranneil.co.uk/blog

Here’s mine…

When this is all over I will appreciate more. A trip to town, a mini-break at the beach, a hug, a social gathering, dinner with those you see the most, and dinner with those you see the least. I will certainly notice nature a lot more and allow it to bring me much happiness whenever I am down. The natural and pure. Children and mothers, wildlife, the trees, birds, grasses blowing in summer breeze, colours of lavender fields and smells of pollen.

I will enjoy sleep because I now know what it is to be deprived of it. On days when I feel on top form and full of energy I will give thanks, for so long I have been run down during lock down. Clear skin showing my radiance as oposed to spotty stress. A spring in my step and a smile on my face rather than clumping along with a frown.

Never again will I moan about slowness under pressure while waiting in queues. Instead I will understand the meaning of pressure and give the staff a break. I will try not to worry about money. I will endeavour to be kind.

When this is all over I will appreciate the freedom we can so easily be denied. Lock down 2020 – back to basics, simplicity and a love for life.

Now try yours…

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

A healthy amount of lone time…

(NB. I wrote this two weeks ago)

Today, so far, has been bloody lovely. My friends have gone away for the weekend and said I was welcome to their house. Having worked another exhausting week surrounded by people (lovely, but people) I took them up on this offer without a thought.

Sometimes you just need to clock off from life.

It is 1pm and I have spent every minute of this day alone. Apart from a couple of texts, fewer than my usual, I have been alone in every aspect of the word. When I lay there in bed this morning I thought how happy I felt to be able to enjoy this amount of lone time. Realising not everyone is this lucky due to either never getting a window of alone time to enjoy or fighting with their inner demons for each second of it, I count my blessings and realise how lucky I am.

It’s been the laziest morning I’ve had in a long while, but also one of the best.

I woke at 8am and gave myself a further thirty minutes sleeping time because it’s Sunday and I felt reckless. I then read The Wind In The Willows chapter 1 because an article in Writing Magazine suggested we all do this during lock down. A chapter a day, he said, will boost our spirits. It certainly lifted me up.

With my second cup of tea, having devoured a lemon and saltana danish (naughty), I continued reading another book I have on the go and one which I am LOVING. The Olive Tree by Lucinda Riley – check it out.

I rose. Showered. Popped to work to check the ice cream machine which had been put together by me yesterday hadn’t completely exploded everywhere. A mess I do not wish to have to deal with at 6am tomorrow morning. Warmed up some pasta and spotted that my bottle of white had just about enough left in it for a glass.

Don’t worry, it’s past 12pm.

I poured myself a glass and now I sit writing, listening to the wind, totally at peace and absoloutly loving this day!

A healthy amount of lone time and it felt so good.

(NB. I finished reading The Olive Tree yesterday and I would recommend. I also continue to read a chapter of The Wind In The Willows for a pick me up during these mad times.)

All blog posts can be found at https://www.harrietmills.co.uk/ and to read my published work visit my portfolio.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

2020 – an update

I’m chuckling to myself at how particular I am. I must tell you this before I begin. With everything from timings to activities and how I undertake them, I have to have everything just so. Maybe something is wrong with me? I don’t really care.

Granted I have work at 10 so my free time is restricted and therefore setting my alarm for a series of time slots in which I can get different things done is a necessity. However, it does make me laugh. NEVER HAVE ENOUGH TIME!

NB: This was Monday morning, not today.

7am – I woke up. Allowed half an hour to enjoy a hot cup of coffee (a rarity) before reading under the light of my bedside lamp for just over half an hour. Subconsciously, I got up, turned my bedside lamp off and big light on, window open to hear the birds and the breeze, another coffee and a flapjack for fuel and then it was writing time!

My writing…

My writing has been going ok lately despite everything that is happening. I am behind with the constant that is my second novel and also the plans for a third, lock down novel, but I am managing to keep up with prioritising.

My second proof came first and that has been sent off. Hoorah! My blog must continue, so here I am. This week’s to-do list includes more work on my two novels as well as reading up to date my writing magazines which have been somewhat neglected. Oops. It is crazy how much I used to fit onto my to-do list (and complete) each week pre-covid19.

Social…

My social life even nudged me to stay awake and out past 10:30pm on a Saturday night this weekend! I visited friends in a town about half an hour from where I live and it’s the furthest I’ve been since 23rd March. It felt good to drive and blast out the tunes and it was only the forth time I’ve left my village in this debarcle.

I even incorporated a drive-through dinner into this trip which was both bloody brilliant and bloody awful. I arrived glancing at the queue for McDonald’s and KFC to find them both very similar in hugeness. My friend asked for Popcorn chicken so I committed to KFC. Seconds later, the McDonald’s queue moved rapidly on to the point that hardly anyone was in it so I immediately regretted my decision but I’d committed so I had to wait it out.

The rain hammered onto my windscreen as we all edged along slowly nearing the entrance. I read the sign saying that there was a reduced menu and steam starting coming out of my ears when I imagined the result if Popcorn chicken wasn’t on this reduced menu. It was. Thankfully. All was ok. Half an hour later I left for the road.

I also experienced Tesco for the first time since lock down, in fact my first supermarket experience, or one of queuing outside a store that you’d, pre-covid19, have walked happily in to. It wasn’t so bad. Apparently restrictions have eased so I can’t imagine how it once was.

Work…

Work continues to drain us of energy and come 5pm only beer will get us through, but it’s all fun and games right? We’ll look back one day and be proud.

But it’s all good…

The birds continue to sing, nature still impresses and good things are everywhere admist the worry of the future.

You just gotta keep on keeping on…as they say…

H

X

For links to all of my writing related stuff, my link tree is below. You can also find published work in my portfolio. My debut novel, Dear Brannagh, is available on Amazon along with the sequel Don’t Tell Jack. If you enjoy what you’re seeing here and are interested in following me on my writing journey, then please subscribe to my newsletter by dropping your name and email. There will be plenty of giveaways, news hot off the press and an honest insight into life as an author. Thank you x

linktr.ee/HJMWriting

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

My Publishing Journey: The Second Proof in lock down

It’s sunny, the birds are singing, The Beatles are playing Here Comes The Sun aloud into my garden via Alexa and it’s all very lovely. My dog has just brought me his brussel sprout toy to throw him and I’m wondering why I even look at other toys for him because sprout will always be best.

I’ve just had to dust my laptop to see the screen. No idea why this was the case as it’s been well used over the past week or so since I received my second proof via email.

Lock down life, as you’ll know if you’re a regular reader of mine, has been nothing short of frantic. Work has taken over and my writing has been pushed aside a little apart from the days where inspiration won’t allow me to escape writing it down.

This is why on receipt of the second proof of my manuscript I screamed a little inside with panic as to how I was ever going to complete a full read through.

My publishers have told me that this could well be the final proof before my book goes to print which is both alarming and extremely exciting. For this reason I must get it right.

So far so good in that the only edit I have made is a missing ‘he’ early on (much like my own life) and a slight structural change to the whole thing, but nothing major. Just an idea that came to me this time around and one which I think will improve the overall read. Quite good for almost half way in, I say!

I must admit that it was beginning to get to me the lack of time I was putting into my writing lately. All of my customers at work kept asking how it was going and I would repeat myself, losing a little optimism each time.

The excitment that came from the proof has turned these conversations around and I’m now discussing my passion for writing with those who didn’t know I was a writer and hypothetically planning my launch party with those who did (a bit premature I know).

My advice to anyone losing their mojo with any passion during these difficult times would be to stick at it. Make time for it. Talk about it. Don’t lose faith.

I am now highly enthusiastic and cannot wait to approve my proof to move onto the next stage of the publishing process.

I may even have a release date for you all soon! Watch this space…

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

a lock down novel: 7

(a snippet of)

Chapter 7, Mary

Days have merged into weeks when I have felt permanently exhausted, entirely drained. I have felt fidgety as if I want to get outside and do things but the thought of physically acting upon that drives me crazier still, so I have mostly remained here in my room.

The shaking sensation in my hands have been beyond my control and I can hardly hold the pen that I am writing with now which is nothing on what they have been some days.

My skin is itchy and I have a huge rash over my face and arms which has always been a sign of a breakdown. I have blotchy patches all over and scabs from where I have picked in a panic or worry until blood drips onto the off-white carpet. At least that’s the cleaner’s problem. It is a silly colour choice for a place of this sort anyway.

My hair is beginning to fall out too which is what happened last year when all of this started, well, sort of when it started.

My legs ache. My clothes are hanging off me because I haven’t eaten for what must be days if not a whole week now. I can’t remember. My memory is going too which is scary because a lot of the time that is all I have to hold on to. Memories. How precious they are.

I spent some time earlier (I think it was today) looking through old photos that they allowed me to have in here. Some were of Erin and Jack so young I could cup them in my hands, like tiny puppies not ready to leave their mum yet. Some were of them only a few months back which makes me so proud to look at. To look at how they have grown into such fantastic humans with little help from me. Though I have a bit of pride to take for it I guess, I wasn’t always completely absent.

The children have hardly wanted to visit. I think the few times that they have appeared has been out of forceful bribery by Eileen. Perhaps a promise of McDonalds on the way home or a trip to the cinema to see the latest release.

What a good aunt she still is. No matter what we throw at her she keeps a strong frame within herself to hold everything together and keep those children onto a path of success and independence for which I will always be grateful.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

In a year I would say

I have listened to so many podcasts lately. Mostly to pass the time but also to settle my mind away from work and the current world situation. Therefore, I can’t remember on which I heard this suggestion but it was of someone talking about writing themselves a letter, a year on.

I have thought about it a lot lately: What advice would I give?

In a year I would definitely say worry less.

This will probably continue for some years because I have been telling myself to worry less forever now. I worry about everything. From how I left a conversation, to basic manners, to taking something someone said and blowing it way out of proportion, to where I am going to be in ten years time. I’m a born worrier but some day I hope things will improve, with age…like wine!

“Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.”

Next year I would probably say appreciate now.

Living in the moment is something we all fail at sometimes and something that is so healthy for the soul. We can’t change the future. Plans are good but never certain. I notice that when I do stop and appreciate the very moment I am living in a sense of relief and happiness always washes over me.

Don’t judge before you know.

Again, this is an important thing that I tell myself quite frequently and something I hope I get better at in time. It’ll be so much less of a headache for me. When I get wound up about somebody’s actions, it helps when I stop and think about how little I know about them. Even those you think you know best may be struggling with something that you don’t have a clue about. It’s better for everyone and easier on your blood pressure levels to appreciate this and therefore not to judge.

See the bigger picture.

Too often I get too involved with the insides of my head. Be it worry, anger, frustration, sadness – it escalates quickly. I’ll be at work and the tiniest thing will wind me up. It then doesn’t take long for this feeling to elevate. Yet if I take a moment to ground myself and notice the bigger things around me, the issues I’m facing never seem very big at all.

I will always say you’re doing ok.

Because we are, we always are. All of us. Even when you think you aren’t, you most definitely are. Another podcast I listened to recently was an interview with Alain de Botton. He gave his beliefs with regards to stoicism and stated that the worst thing that can happen to anybody ever is death and none of us seem to have trouble dying, the physical act of it, so we’re always going to be ok. Blunt but true.

Obviously I also have much more specific and personal pieces of advice I would give to myself so I may write that in a more private letter to myself. However, I thought what a good idea this activity is and I’m sure it’ll help many of you too if you try it? It’s an interesting concept.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Writing

I had a plan on a sunday

So in the UK the lock down is starting to be eased a little. All over the news there are various stories of the ways in which countries are easing things in a desperate attempt to get back to some sort of normality.

Whether I agree or disagree with each government’s approach (I honestly think it’s the hardest thing to control) we stuck by the rules and had a socially distanced barbecue planned for the weekend. This meant that it was my first Sunday with a plan in over two months. Wow.

As I showered at 1pm having done some productive things but mostly worked on my tan while reading my book in the garden, a thought came to me.

How was I rushing? How had life already come to being rushed again?

Throughout lock down my social media feeds have been swarmed with boredom but also people noticing things. Many have noticed how much time is in a day once you’re off the mad rush that is working life.

They have noticed nature, people, things about themselves that passed them by before. It has appeared as a wonderful revelation and one that most will want to stick in life post lock down. Yet, day one in getting back to some form of functioning society and I am struggling to find the time?!

Sunday is the one day a week that I get to experience lock down. For the past two months (though working a little on some) my Sunday’s have noticably been the slowest day of the week.

I have enjoyed slow mornings. Getting up slowly has been luxurious and enjoying a warm beverage before it has turned cold due to me becoming preoccupied with a matter of higher priority at work has been great. It really is the little things

It has been liberating to realise that I don’t know what time it is or where I have left my phone or having no limits to an acceptable time to relax with a large glass of red.

Even on mornings when I have crammed lots of writing and reading and planning in, feeling positive and productive, I will look at the clock to find it is only midday.

Truthfully, Sunday’s have become a beautifully happy blur like that feeling in between tipsy and drunk. You don’t quite know what’s going on and you’re gradually beginning to lose control, but it feels just lovely.

There I was on a Sunday with a plan. For the first time I had to rush. I had an hour to get ready and still struggled. My day suddenly felt exceedingly short.

I consider myself fairly organised and good with time management but there I was, failing. I’m not too sure how it happened, but maybe life post lock down won’t be slower.

Maybe modern life and the way we’ve shaped it can’t be slower. Or maybe we just need to find time amidst the chaos to give ourselves a mini lock down experience in stopping, appreciating, noticing and loving life.

[inserts hands in air emoji]

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

A LOCK DOWN NOVEL: 6

(a snippet of)

Chapter 6, Erin

Orange. The entire room had a glowing tint of orange and when we walked in, I hadn’t ever thought of orange as a particularly warming colour, but my mind was more focussed upon mum’s behaviour in a public setting so most of my attention was on that. Saying that though, the orange wasn’t a bright and garish tone of orange like that of my hideously decorated bedroom from the age of seven to ten years old, but rather that of a golden glow just like the sun makes on a summers evening. Golden hour. The incense sticks in each corner of the small and cosy space added to the calming feeling as did the instructor asking us politely to remove our outdoor footwear and place them in the closet before entering the room. It made it feel like home.

I had never met the lady who was going to take our class before, but Eileen assured me that she was lovely and a very good yoga teacher because she used to take Eileen’s classes when she first moved here until Eileen stopped attending due to stress. In fact, the whole idea to go was down to Eileen, I usually avoided taking mum out in public nowadays and preferred to restrict our time together to when we were alone. Outside of her room but still alone. I like it that way and I can relax properly to enjoy the time that we had instead of constantly being on edge due to not knowing when she would lash out or do something crazy.

With our socks, shoes and bags safely stored in the closet we entered the room and each chose a mat next to one another – I was in the middle. Beside my mum were another two people and that made up our class which pleased me. I was nervous about doing yoga for the first time, so I was happy with it being a class of five.

We all sat cross legged on our mats which each had a block and a sort of miniature bean bag placed at one end and a human sized elastic band type piece of equipment next to them which I was very curious and slightly worried about being the least flexible person ever. However, I had promised Eileen that I would keep an open mind about it all, so I just went with it, ready to participate in all that the instructor told us to do.

Mum wasn’t making eye contact with the yoga teacher which made me realise that she hadn’t made eye contact with neither me nor Eileen since we picked her up. That wasn’t so unusual to us, it may be to the other people in the class though. Instead she looked awkwardly at the floor and picked at her hand which was a gesture she did when nervous. It was a gesture I didn’t mind though as I had to accept that she would be nervous when in public for a while and she wasn’t acting too crazy so to me it was ok for her to be that way.

Categories
Adulthood Non-fiction Observations Stories Writing

Lock down – an update

Week 10, 11, 12? I don’t really know to be honest. This week I left the house for the first time since Boris announced we stayed home on March 23rd. It was stranger than I had imagined.

I only left to get my MOT!

Having waited patiently in an empty reception at the garage, nothing seemed too different to before. Besides, my life hasn’t changed much during this in terms of routine. Of course, it is busier than ever and I am more tired than ever, but in terms of my daily schedule it is much the same. Wake up, go to work, drink too much wine, fall asleep and do it all over again.

I’ve seen people. I’ve witnessed social distancing but not to the level of supermarkets and hour long queues to get into a bank. I don’t intent to experience that either. No thank you.

So, having enjoyed an hour to myself reading my book while waiting to see if my car was broken or not, I upped and left. My car wasn’t broken. Hoorah!

I decided to make a trip of it and fill up with petrol too (I know how to live) so I pulled up into the garage next door. Well, I didn’t expect to find it so bizarre entering the first building that wasn’t my work in ten weeks. I felt like I was in an apocalyptic film, the only person left on earth, trying to survive. An essential purchase of a packet of Jammie Dodger biscuits, my petrol and I left.

Writing during lock down…

In terms of writing during lock down I am having mixed experiences. Last weekend was a bank holiday weekend. It was also the first weekend which I didn’t have to go to work for any amount of time so I made the most of it. I wrote two chapters of my second novel and was very chuffed with them.

This morning I have organised myself a bit in terms of my blog and general laptoppy admin duties so I feel good about that. This week I finished a great book (Lucinda Riley is now a favorite author of mine).

However, there are many many times when I get overwhelmed by the little amount of time I have during Corona-life in which to write. There have been some weeks where I’ve hardly written at all. There have been weeks where I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down to read. It really gets me stressed.

Trying to juggle is a skill I am usually good at but have not yet mastered and giving myself a break from the pressure is something I mostly fail at. Yet I am understanding that it is only me who feels stressed after a week of no writing. Also, writing is a long process and one that often produces many drafts before quality work so bad days can certainly be accepted.

My blog and lock down…

I am going to change the arrangement of my blog slightly for now and aim for two posts per week. I was bogging myself down with content and figured that good content is better than lots of it.

Therefore, I will provide you good people with one post much like this one per week. An update, a personal experience, a ditty, a good story – whatever it may be. And I will then post a fictional snippet of things I am working on. A bit of lighter reading at the weekend. A short story for competition, a section of my novel, a random piece of prose for inspiration.

Thank you…

As always I thank you all for your time in visiting my blog. I really hope my work leaves you with a smile on your face.

H x

Categories
fiction Stories Writing

A LOCK DOWN NOVEL: 4

(a snippet of)

Chapter 4 Erin

Of course, I worried a little initially about the horror stories I had heard. The trolls, the glamorous accounts of false lives to make me feel awful about my own, the mass of uneducated opinions, the dangerously fast addiction and everything else in between, but I never thought much about it all. Besides being sixteen in 2019 meant that I had a firm grasp of what lay before me and I felt strong enough to cope with life on social media.

At the beginning I tried to remain strong anyway. It was more to prove a point to my mum but a fraction of it was fear of the inevitable. I could feel instantly the addiction looming. After two days of having access to the virtual social world, my phone was the first thing I went to pick up in the morning and the last thing that I put down at night. I spent hours scrolling and still do, but I don’t know why because after doing so I have never gained anything more or lost anything, my life remains exactly as it was.

On days when I feel bad about my own image, Instagram strengthens this sad emotion when I witness the accounts not of celebrities but of my own friends looking like celebrities. Their accounts fill my newsfeed with perfection and no flaws. The perfect brunch, the most exotic holiday venues, the prettiest new haircuts that look better than I looked that time when I had my hair and all my makeup done by a professional for a family wedding back in Ireland.

At the weekend I see friends and acquaintances out having fun. I always think to myself how they are doing the things that I should be doing when I am visiting Mummy or at work. Friends who have gone to places without even asking me so of course I feel totally left out and forgotten. Acquaintances who I don’t even care about doing things that make my Saturday night look so boring and suddenly I am deeply involved with care for the comparison.

On a more distant level, I see opinions all the time that I completely disagree with or that make me so angry that I can feel my face going red. I see people being horrible openly in their statuses or indirect Tweets and I laugh a little inside in agreement, but never would I say it to their face. I don’t wish to be involved with that kind of negative behavior, but it is too easy to get sucked in.