Monthly Archives: August 2014

And then Finally, Rest

Sometimes it feels like that though time passes, it doesn’t actually get anywhere. 

It has been a lot like that this week. But somehow, I am home. Work is finished for the week, my assignments are handed in. University break is in front of me. Nothing, currently, is demanding my attention but my stories.

At points I have wondered if this moment would ever actually arrive. Sometimes I feared it would hide, let itself be replaced instead by moments brash with busyness, demanding that my tired brain continue to work without break. 

Despite my tired words however, this week has had its brilliance. 
See, I love my job, and the people that come with it. I love the early morning walks with cold as my companion, even if it tries to slip its arms around me when I’m quite happily tucked up and warm in my jacket. I love the river sliding along under me, yet somehow seemingly so still. Sometimes it is wrapped up like I am, with its scarf of fog. Other times it lays itself bare and the world is reflected in it, an oil painting that uses the river’s skin as its canvas.

Waking early may not be pleasant, but dawn is well worth those first few bitter moments of leaving sleep, and of swinging legs out into cold air. 

However tomorrow morning I will sacrifice the freshness of dawn for rest. When I wake I will pull my covers closer, only braving the air outside them in order to find my pen or my books, whichever my hand encounters first. 

Because tomorrow I rest. Tomorrow I bathe myself in reading and writing, and all things beautiful, till my mind is washed clean of the sour taint of stress. And when I finally emerge from the nest of my bed? I will do so gladly, the world golden from the start and not just when my mind cannot argue against its beauty any longer.

So I write this post, and let my body ease back into softness so that sleep can find me. 

And then finally, rest.

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When the Muse comes Calling

As I mentioned in my last post, I am overwhelmed with assignments for University right now. 

So what better time for the muse to sidle in? And she comes bearing such tempting gifts as well… 

I gave in. How could I not? I love what I study, and I want to do well in it. Some part of my life will always be dedicated to maths. However, writing has always been my first calling, and when it comes down to working on my assignments and writing a scene that promises so much, I can never seem to walk away from the writing… So this morning, before eating or getting a hot coffee in my hand, I huddled in my dressing gown on my bed and wrote. 

In case you are wondering; it is winter in my area of the world. And my room which is devoid of morning (or even evening) sunlight, though lovely, has a bite to it when it comes to being cold. However, I can forgive it that when it is large enough for my bookshelf to be within reach of my bed. I do not even need to leave the warmth of my blankets to escape into a myriad of different universes. And what is happiness, if not that?

The gift my muse has brought is an odd one. Strange, and precious. Fragile. It is like nothing I have written before, and sometimes I get frightened writing it. It feels as if the way it is written cannot sustain a whole book. That it is more suited to musings, and short stories, that there is not enough of anything to weave a plot.

I am getting better at ignoring doubt however. I carefully lock the voice up in a soundproof room where it can echo back on itself rather than on me. 

Maybe what I have cannot sustain a book. Maybe it can. There are books out there that have an eerie isolation to them, and yet most definitely have plot. Neil Gaiman’s book, ‘The Ocean at the End of the Lane’ for one. ‘The Night Circus’ by Erin Morgenstern another. Both of which if you haven’t read, I highly recommend. Very highly. (And with those, though of a different feel to it, is Patrick Rothfuss’s novels. He is a genius.)
In the end though, I am writing, and I am enjoying. Is that not what matters? That I am losing myself in a story, and practicing my craft? It is much better than where I have been lately, where I have been caught in a story that I cannot seem to immerse myself in. I love it, but currently I am getting no where with it, and it has been affecting me.

So even though her timing, as always, is the most inconvenient, I welcomed the muse so warmly that I think I almost scared her away. Though I hope it will, upon reflection, cause her to want to come visit more often. 

It feels good to love a story again. To get lost in it, and be swept away by its charms. 

A new story like this is the beginning of a grand love affair, if without there being another human involved…


Impecunious

Impecunious – having little or no money; penniless; poor.

I.e, most students tend to exist in a state of impecuniousness.

I love words, and I love stumbling upon ones such as this. It is such a large, important word, for such a simple concept. A way for one to speak of a person’s wealth without being rude and stating the case so bluntly as to say ‘penniless’…

I shouldn’t mock, I know. It does not help, however, that I heard the word in the movie ‘Becoming Jane’ where it was uttered by the noble Lady Gresham. Such a word sits perfectly within her vocabulary.Yet, how she uses it when trying to describe Jane’s father and how beneath her nephew Jane is, only shows further her ridiculousness.  

I do love that movie. I’m not sure how accurate it is, and I know I should make time to find out more about Jane’s life. But whether it is truthful or not, it is well done in my opinion. It holds just enough of her books and characters in it, entwined in the dialogue and the persons themselves, to bring them together. And James McAvoy is a favourite of mine. He brings a liveliness, an edge of danger, to her life and the movie that I do not think anyone else could do quite as much justice to. He definitely manages to get an expression on his face that I could well imagine both intriguing Jane, and stroking her temper just perfectly.

But I procrastinate; I have assignments to do. Re-watching movies, and starting a new blog, may be enjoyable ways to pass time, but they won’t be taking any of the pressure off for my University work.