The book I've been trying to write

Many years ago, I started writing a book. It was about the dilemmas that face people when they have a terminally ill child. That sounds a bit painful but it happens to hundreds if not thousands of people a year and it isn't something that is discussed. When I was in that position, people tended to say I was doing a wonderful job, they wouldn't be able to cope blah blah. What they didn't want to hear was the days when I hated it, didn't cope, struggled from crisis to crisis with insufficient support. When other hollow-eyed, exhausted mothers got together we talked about the forbidden questions: whether we would ever shorten our child's life, whether we can put their comfort over their safety. When you are doling out morphine every day, sitting in waiting rooms for endless appointments, sitting up at night listening to a crying child whose pain isn't relieved, these questions go through your mind. I don't want to write a misery-lit true story, I want to write a novel. Inevitably my characters would have something in common with me but I want the characters to be fictional. I worked with a dying child through my work who would be a good starting point for the child, and the mother is a character I have developed for another story.
I wonder how other people who were in my own story will interpret me writing a story that parallels mine - would they assume the characters reflect how I see them? Would they be hurt or offended? This is a form of life writing, and I haven't quite worked out where the boundaries are. Is it OK to describe family and friends? At least the child and father (in my story) are dead, but other people are still around, especially my other children.
I also don't want to preach. I don't have an answer for these questions myself, and I have spent some time wrestling with them. In 1996 or 1997 I did an Open University course called K260, Death and Dying (still going and still brilliant). Questions came up. Is it OK to turn off a ventilator when someone is brain dead? How about if they are severely brain damaged? Or seriously injured and have left a living will? What about a two year old, who makes the decision then? Parents have the option to abort a severely disabled child before birth. They are often given the chance to limit medical treatment and even food and liquids to very disabled babies. But once you go home with a baby, even if more information comes to light, you are under observation and expected to prolong that child's life at all cost to your family and self.
I don't know what the answer is, I know it crossed my mind during Léonie's last months. I chose to let nature take its course, mostly because I was afraid of losing my children if I did anything to speed up the painful process of her death from a brain tumour. But people did wonder if, with all that morphine around... even one of the district nurses had her doubts. Fortunately my GP and the consultant eased Léonie's final days as much as possible and she had a dignified and peaceful last few days, on the whole. I don't quite know how to do it, but I want to write a story that leads the reader through the questions rather than provide the answers, because I think it's easier to consider these questions from the outside rather than in the middle of the crisis. I don't think my character will have a clear idea of what to do, either.
I'm writing a few sketches while planning (yes, not my normal approach!) an outline to work on. One thing I'm using from A363 is writing a proper outline, so I'm starting with a table following the three strands. One is the mother and child's story, one is the last eleven days of her life, and the third strand is the consequences of suspicion that she may have hastened or attempted to hasten her daughter's death. Now all I have to do is write 1000 words a day for three months... like I have nothing else to do...

New laptop and life writing

I am a writer (that still makes me feel weird, typing those words!) and I have created a proper 'study' (come animal rescue centre come laundry room) and now, I own a real laptop. With daughters 1 and 2, we bought laptops when they went to university. This year, we bought son no. 2 one, because he is off to the University of Gloucestershire. Now it's my turn, birthday coming up, university place sorted, and so we stretched our paper-thin finances another four hundred pounds and bought a laptop. I remember the first short stories I submitted were on our old typewriter (I really mean old, it was antiquated even in 1978). Typing was physically hard work, and because I am not a touch typist, it was full of mistakes. All had to be tippexed out and retyped, and on the worst pages, lots of neatish biro additions and corrections applied. I kept carbon copies, a messy business of lining up a sheet of carbon paper between two sheets of A4 in the typewriter and then trying to hit the keys evenly (too hard and they went through the paper, too lightlyy and they didn't register on either copy). My daughter was born and ill a lot of the time, so I mostly wrote newsletter articles. I didn't get an electronic word processor until 1991 - it had floppy discs to save work on - fantastic. I picked up an old PC (pre-windows 3.1) in the early nineties and then, finally, to study my psychology degree, a 'real' PC in 1994. Now I have a laptop. Mind you, I'm used to XP and was a bit intimidated by Windows 7. Still, I mastered all the others so this should be a doddle!

My creative writing has slowed down a lot. It worries me, though some part of me needs a break. And the autumn is going to bring a lot more challenges and a huge workload, so I feel the need to get on and at least break the back of the A363 assignments. I have completed a first draft of TMA 1 and 2 and need to look at the next piece of work I could be doing. Part of me wants to have a play with the poetry option for TMA05, but I know from experience it just takes so long to 'knock out' one poem, let alone 80-100 lines of something. Also, that TMA is heavily weighted, so I really ought to stick to something manageable and that I know I do well. On the other hand, I'm only doing it for the diploma so just need a pass. If only I wasn't so competitive with myself...

One source of inspiration is the process I'm putting myself through. I looked at my partner the other day when he was doing one of the mundane things that a parent has to do, and thought how much I will miss him. He hadn't noticed I was watching (or even that I was there) and I had time to think about the strands that hold us together. We share so many threads - obviously the children and pets and the house. Woven into that are all his family and my family, his friends, our friends, my friends. But beyond that is the big strand of emotion that we have for each other. Most of the time, it's submerged into everyday life of sock baskets, peeling potatoes, shopping, parenting, work, moaning about the kids, moaning to the kids, paying bills. But when we go out for a meal we have time to look at each other and wow. There he is. The person I fell in love with. As I happily stretch some of those strands very thin - I need a break from being a full time mum, housekeeper, cook, animal nurse -  that 'love' strand is going to be stretched too. Lots of people have struggled to understand why we are doing this, and even suspected that we are literally breaking up. I wonder how that will feel emotionally. Fortunately we are both fairly resourceful emotionally - you have to be to have survived a lot of losses. And I'm only four hours by car away, I'm not heading to Italy or the US. But holding onto that experience might be stressful so I thought I could write a personal journal about it that can be a source for other writing. I have just read Blackwater Rising by Attica Locke. Apart from being a cracking good story she added a rational for the book in the last pages. The experiences she has included reflect her parent's lives as well as her own. At the same time, I just saw a brilliant TV programme on BBC4 called To Kill a Mockingbird at 50. It was by Andrew Smith and evoked memories of how I felt when I first encountered Nelle Harper Lee's story. So much of the character of Atticus Finch came from her own experience. So perhaps writing more of our own experiences is the raw material for fiction, even if it seems self-indulgent to me at the time.

Anyway, to meander slowly to a point, the life writing option of TMA 5 and maybe the ECA, is available, might be fulfilled by writing from diary material from this adventure back into education at a late age. Other people think it's extraordinary, maybe I can see if I can find an interesting way to write it.

PS If you haven't read To Kill a Mockingbird, read it now. Go out, pick up a copy, read it straight away. Then watch the 1961 film with Gregory Peck. Think of it as part of your emotional, social and spiritual education. Then spend the rest of your life working towards writing a book that is that poweful, that evocative and that popular. You may not get there (few have), but aim high.

Lifewriting should come with a health warning

OK, so I wrote this piece of lifewriting, and I consulted my daughter whom it mostly concerned. Then I let no. 1 son, who is my more strict critic, read it and he broke down and cried - for a long time. I'd discussed Steve's death with my daughter for ever, because she was 4 years old and full of questions, I forgot I hadn't really done the same with him.

So, I started a new piece and it segued into fiction. When I was little, I got to paint a shed with old pots before it was scrapped so I could play in it with my sister for a couple of weeks. I also heard about a scandalous story going on over our heads, and though it would be nice to combine the two, see the exciting events unfolding from a child's perspective. Here is my VERY first draft work - ready for a serious edit.

Had to remove it in case I plagiarised myself!

Meanwhile, my next 'Writing Magazine' entry is progressing nicely. It's about living on a narrowboat which my parents do, and living on a houseboat which several friends do, so it's full of nautical details. I'm trying to enter something every month but its been a challenge with the coursework and assignments etc. as well as novels. I've got a few weeks to unwind so I'll get on with that.

TMA05 commentary and lifewriting (ouch, again)

Well, TMA05 sorted itself out nicely after a bit of bashing into shape and taking out all the adjectives (I wrote the first draft a while ago). I allow myself one per paragraph, tops. My problem is the navel gazing required for the commentary.

I chose a magazine (I started out looking for myslexia but it's intimidatingly good and I chickened out). I ended up with Riptide, because I have seen one once and it looked good but not so far above my head I didn't understand any of it. Anyway, it also has a whole page on recommendations for submissions so something to write about in the commentary. My problem is, I'm not sure how much should be about tracking down the mag and how much about how I wrote the short story?

One unexpected side effect is that I'm now quite keen to submit it to a magazine, to see what happens, as well as working on a competition entry I've been fiddling with for Writing Magazine. I know it's a good story but I'm still not sure my writing suits the subject that well.

I've also been working on my lifewriting for the ECA, a short piece on telling my four year old daughter her father had died. It's no funnier than it sounds, but it's been interesting talking about it to Sophie from her vast life experience at 23. It sparked a clear out and I realised how much crap from my past - mementos, ornaments, books, etc. I was holding onto because they connect to the past. My husband, also widowed but much more recently, does the same, so it's definitely time for a good review of what we actually need to keep and a chance to declutter. It's like there are layers of memories with everything, that are as obvious as the dust, once you move them. I will take the old furniture to Winchester and either dump it or pass it on to Sophie. Meanwhile I'm full of dust and memories and my dreams are emotional and scary, full of dying people and sadness. To make matters worse, we seem to have a wood mouse loose in the house, that comes into our room on its travels at night! I don't mind mice but it's the not knowing where it is that bothers me! It spooked Sophie the other night, up late watching supernatural, all alone, except for the mouse... I don't know who was more scared. Rodents are a major issue with this house, despite four over-fed and idle cats.

Finding a balance for A215

Real life does get in the way of creative writing, it turns out! Looking after an old lady, even from a safe distance, is difficult. I speak to her, and all the concerns and all the problems of the past tend to creep in. Now she's phoning before dawn every morning to tell me she's all right, although I can't do anything about it if she's not...

I have written about her in a piece of life writing for TMA04 for A215 and it's helped me realise those feelings are legitimate. I don't think I'll be doing life writing again any time soon, though! Anyway, the TMA. My tutor has suggested that we a) attempt the present tense and b) that we be ruthless with adjectives and adverbs. I'm enjoying both, though writing about the past in the present tense seems weird to start with. It does make description very immediate though, and I like that. The description part is a challenge with a limited range of adjectives. I booted it over to a fellow student for a mutual critique, and she managed to find several adjectives that I could live without. Changing small sequences of words increases the power enormously. One other thing I wasn't sure about was her comments on where I was in the piece, as I sound very unemotional and if it's autobiographical, where am I? It made me work on me in the piece, putting my feelings in as well as my voice.

Then, to explain to the reader, I put three words in, that still crush me. Léonie is dead. It was Steve's birthday, my husband who died the year before Léonie, and then it hit me, that's what Hilda is in my life, she is a link to these people that I loved and whose deaths shattered me for years. So Hilda is dying, and I'm grieving for them, I'm loyal and helping for them, not for the embittered old bag who on several occasions has wished me dead.

I was looking back over this course, and how I have managed it, what I have learned over the last months. I have learned that it's OK to struggle, even fail; it's OK to take chances, experiment; it's important to read more widely and read good literature. I recently picked up a crime thriller and it's literally badly punctuated, the dialogue is sloppy, the pace is uneven. And all enjoyment, admittedly, is muted - but I am enjoying books and authors that I wouldn't have tried before. So, if you are planning to do A215, be aware, it may change your reading habits! I have also written 20k of book 2 so am still writing 500 words minimum every day (more like 1000 most days!) That has probably been my biggest gift from A215, getting a writing habit. If I can't think of anything to say, I work on a TMA or short story. If I can't face that either, I go and highlight a bit of the Big Red Book and do one or two of the exercises. Keeps the habit going.

MA creative writing

I have an unconditional offer to do an MA! Not my favourite choice geographically, though it looks like a very good course. I'm waiting to see what no. 1 and 2 on my list say. It is lovely, though, having handed over samples of my work, then be accepted. Now all I have to do is take out a hefty loan, find an affordable house to rent, get both boys on their courses and pack up family life here into boxes. I haven't even counted the cost of being away from home and husband, though I imagine that will be the biggest cost for me.

The lifewriting is painful still, but I'm moving on it - it is difficult because the drama is ongoing, with the head of E. Hampshire's social services personally telling me she is her own worst enemy, she's fired/cancelled everyone who could help her stay in her own home and we should step back. It's her legal right (just about, a bit more batty and we can intervene) to lie at the bottom of her staircase and die. Should she wish that. And she would prefer that to going in a home. All the people who care about her now phone or email each other daily and are letting her deal with her problems herself. Basically, she'll end up back in hospital and then maybe we can persuade her to accept carers. It's not that she doesn't want them, but she wants them to do her shopping and wash up, do laundry rather than the personal care like help washing and dressing, which she desperately needs. So the dilemma is in my thoughts, in my work and has spread to my blog.

I have two comps to do, both short stories, both by post for 31st March, so that's this morning's work. Not to mention, I have written quite a few words for 'Borrowed Time' (young adults novel)which keeps me writing while I let the other story sit and fester. I have already thought of some loose ends to tie up.

Lifewriting seems to be all about me.

I'm finding that no matter how much I'm trying to describe my mother in law, so much of me creeps in. My anger and frustration at her, for a start. But also our shared history. We loved the same people, and shared the same losses. This was my first description of her.

I had to take the quote out while it's marked by my tutor!

I just don't know what to do with it. I'm so emotional right now it's hard to write without it becoming a rant or maudlin. She's refusing all help, sitting in her dirty clothes and saying 'I don't want help' but then complaining that no-one is there for her. I don't very often feel completely helpless, like I can't think of something that will help. But she's sometimes confused and sometimes not, and isn't quite at the point when she needs to be taken down the vet and put down, or at the very least rehomed. And no, I've never been in favour of euthanasia...until now.

65,000 words and new life in the story

I'm onto the third chapter of 'backstory' and can clearly see how it will fit within the book, as reflection on the past anchored by the objects in the house and landscape. Emma lives within this frame full of the past, in one sense her real task is to break free from the hold it has over her and to find her own life. I've left Charlotte's voice as an internal dialogue that may - or may not - also be a creepy, ghostly voice. I just think Emma has absorbed Charlotte, and what becomes clear to Emma during the story is that she has grown up, while Charlotte remains seventeen. I've realised that during the last 6 weeks, I have written 65k of this book, 11k of the second novel, about three thousand of activities from the BRB and about 3k for the lifewriting assignment. That's the difference between this year and say, last year. I've got a writing habit back and am approaching it like work, again. Like a writer.

The lifewriting is so hard, even now, looking at the short piece I wrote for TMA04, I'm uncomfortable with it. I don't like talking about myself but as the BRB said, when you write about other people you do reveal yourself as well. My son,. who is my main critic, also doesn't like the piece, even though it's mostly well written (we think) but he doesn't entirely recognise either me nor his grandmother from the writing. I think that's largely because I haven't shared my feelings entirely with him (don't want to bad mouth Grandma!) but also because I don't recognise that she is always always angry at me. I feel stressed, I react as if she is, but I don't see it, I look for a failing in me. (I don't like her, she's always bossing me around...) when really, she just endlessly snaps at me, puts me down, makes up silly things to make me feel small. My favourite this week was that I 'had to have' a TV in my room when I was in hospital in case I missed 'Blue Peter'. ? The occasion was the six weeks I spent alone, on bed rest, with pre-eclampsia, knowing my baby would almost certainly die whatever I did but fighting for him anyway. We didn't own a TV, but out of pity, my father in law lent me their portable black and white TV from his study. That and a box of old books from a junk shop were all I had to entertain me over the six long weeks I was in. I'm fairly sure, at 21, that 'Blue Peter' was not a priority, but she threw it at me this week as if I was as demanding, difficult and childish - as she is. My baby died. He would be 28 this year. I'm starting to see that her anger (and mine) are the core of our relationship, and so the lifewriting can reflect that.

59,800 and very tired lifewriting

My drafted lifewriting is shaping up, but I'm uncomfortable with switching between past and present too much, making it disjointed. I wrote a freewrite when I first saw my ex mother-in-law in hospital. She's always hated me, partly because I seduced her little boy away and then because he died of leukaemia and I didn't. I also think she's a difficult person who has alienated most of the people in her life. I hung in because I loved her husband, he was a sweet man very like his son; and she was the grandmother of my children. After more than a week of concentrated games and hostility, I must admit to feeling some dislike, even hatred of the woman who is still putting me down and criticising me. The two trips we have made to Hampshire in the last week and a half have made me realise I actually hold these angry, hate-filled feelings towards her. I don't think of myself as a person who hates anyone. Dislikes a few maybe, but it's hard to think of anybody I didn't like something about. But reading my freewrite and the lifewriting piece - it seems so bitter. One thing the course mentioned was about revealing yourself, as narrator, through writing about someone else. I feel exposed by it. This is an uncomfortable feeling for me, because although you are revealed in fiction the reader isn't sure what is you and what is made up. They may suspect something... And they will know that I am capable of hating a vulnerable, dying old woman.

The book has been stalled by my absence, which I hate, because I'm worried I will lose momentum. I managed to make up 2,600 words today, as well as catch up with a lot of laundry. I needed to wash everything we had worn in Hilda's house, as it stank of smoke and rotten food. She keeps everything closed up, even the blinds and curtains, and smokes continuously, and even a few minutes leaves you smelling like an ash tray. Her lap top was full of ash, Russell had to shake it out before he could fix it for her. I feel so tired, just of dealing with the phone calls and messages.

I'm writing my character's backstory at the moment, rich stuff, even if it all seems to be about hospitals (I wonder why?). I'm going to try and get stuck into reviewing a short story I wrote for my OCA tutor for the biscuit short story competition. I did manage to send off an entry into another comp. while we were away, a ghost story that was fun to write.