Tag Archives: writing

Hard Work and a Sneak Thief at Work

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It was a big day for wring today. My normal bad organisation triumphed in the end and left me in a last-minute panic. Fortunately I was a bit better organised than usual and managed 12 submissions. It won’t be as bad as this all year – there is, for instance, only one planned submission for march.

The upshot was that I ordered pizza for tea as Julia was feeling under the weather and I didn’t have time to stop. We got a good deal and the food will last for two days. I am having salad delivered tomorrow, so we will have it with salad and baked potatoes.

Tonight, however, we had it with garlic bread and onion rings. A piece of garlic bread was missing. I shrugged it off, thinking I must have missed the portion size being reduced on the menu. Shrinkflation is all around us.

However, when the onion rings did not divide equally I knew something was wrong because I’d checked there were ten of them to satisfy myself about value for money.

Turns out we should have had four garlic bread too, so we are one piece of bread and one onion ring down. It’s not ahuge amount but it’s annoying. It also makes me wonder if someone along the line has had his larcenous, and possibly unhygienic fingers in my food. I doubt we will ever get to the bottom of it, as it’s impossible to actually prove we were short but unless I get at least a decent apology I won’t be going back to them.

Modern life is nothing like it was portrayed by Gerry Anderson and Eagle comic, though I don’t actually remember the Tracey brothers having a pizza delivery on the island, and I’m pretty sure dan Dare and Digby never had garlic bread and onion rings. Ah well!

Sorry about the lack of photos today. Julia took some more but by the time I got round to writing this I had only ten minutes to do it and get credit for posting on consecutive days. So I did most of the text, the title, the tags, the category and the single photo and pressed the Publish buton at a minute to midnight.

My paln worked, by the way, I am currently on a six day streak.

Is Writing a Pleasure or is it Publication?

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We woke this morning after hearing moderately heavy rain overnight. The general aspect of the morning was wet, rather than snowy, icy or frosty.  Looking at the choice of words there, I realise that the story of the Innuit and all their words for snow might not be as outlandish as we think. We seem to have a good selection of words for it and some years we don’t get any. This year, I think, we may have a snowy winter. That will be good as it will see a lot of rats and disease off. On the other hand, the birds will need plenty of food.

For the first time in 12 months the rain did not make it inside, the builders having done their job well. I can’t help thinking it may have been more cost effective just to retile he roof with banknotes but hopefully the pain will subside.

The worst bit of the builders being here, apart from having to get up at a time dictated by someone else, is that we had the dining table in the living space and the conservatory contents in the dining area. Two days of living with clutter brought back a lot of old memories and was not pleasant. This morning, as 7pm dawned, I pulled the flannelette duvet cover up to my chin, arranged the coverlet to block any gaps and luxuriated in the warmth. It was good.

I suppose I ought to have used this as the beginning of the last post, but that one seemed to take on a life of its own. I also note that I seem to be a day behind again. This, I think, is mainly due to my lack of routine. The days bleed into one, particularly if I sleep in front of TV and restart late at night. I must get to grips with this for several reasons – health, vitality, writing quality and consistency are ones I can think of immediately.

During the day I exchanged emails with someone who told me I shouldn’t be stressing over the amount I wrote as it should be a relaxation now I was retired. Writing, he said, should be a pleasure. I have never found it to be a pleasure. For me, the pleasure comes from finishing and from publication. The writing is a real grind.

How about you? And, as an extra question,  would you carry on writing if you had nobody to read it?

Two Acceptances and Plans for Writing and a Conservatory Roof

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Tree cutting on the island.

It happened again. It’s now January 3 and I have only published one post. I am now sitting up in the middle of the night trying not to fall too far behind.

I slept in late as a result of my nocturnal writing last night, allied to a late night for New Year. Then I watched antiques on TV, fell asleep in my chair, woke just before Julia returned from the cafe, did enough typing to make it look like I had been working and stopped for tea and cake, a visit from my sister with tarpaulins for tomorrow and watched quizzes. All in all, I did not distinguish myself with industry. Tomorrow? You are probably asking. Tomorrow we are emptying the conservatory and as long as the snow holds off we should have a new conservatory roof by the end of next week.

Black Headed Gull

Finally, 12 months after taking possession, we should be water-tight and fully repaired. We would be 100% functional if it wasn’t for the fault on the light switches in the hallway that started over Christmas and the back gate which is starting to fall apart. Annoyingly, in the old days, although I never meddled with electrics, I could have built a new gate in a day. Now I will have to pay someone to do it. Is there no end to household repairs?

Meanwhile, back with the writing, I have heard back from one of the editors I submitted to on 30th December. That’s fine service, and two more acceptances to add to my 2025 tally. That takes me to 53 for the year. It’s also means I have a number of rejects to form the basis for my submissions this month. I may well junk my haiku, as I very rarely manage to sneak one in but the returned haibun and tanka will all do for resubmission.

Mandarin drake at Arnot Hill Park, Nottinghamshire

Little and Large!

I have started a couple of new haibun too, having listed my work for the month ahead. It’s on an archaic spreadsheet – or “written on a piece of paper” as we used to call it, and I am feeling more organised. When I feel organised I always seem able to do more work. I won’t list my calculations, but I’m going to need to be organised if I have any chance of improving on last year, particularly as I want to improve my quality and increase my range.

The Heron is back again. Arnot Hill Park

 

 

A Lost Week!

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Golden key (actually silver-gilt, used by Sir Arthur Blake KBE at the opening of the Nottingham savings Bank branch on St Ann’s Well Road, Nottingham, November 23, 1926

I just looked at the date on my last post and received a shock. I knew it had been a while, but was amazed to find it was a whole seven days. So, what have I been doing?

Not much.

From the point of view of colour rendition this shows I stll have a lot to learn. Taken only seconds apart under the same light

I have become addicted to writing articles about junk. I have now done four for the research page of the Peterborough Military History Group, a couple more for the newsletter and nineteen posts for the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire Facebook page. I’m never sure if these really count as “acceptances” as they are short and they are submitted to people I know.  On the other hand, poems are short too. I became obsessed with “The Golden Key” as I started writing it. I’ve had it about 30 years and never really got on with it, so it was about time. I can’t set a link directly to it but it’s currently at the top if yo use the link above.

Even better if you can leave a “Like”. It’s part of my crusade to strike back against traditional coins. There’s a place for kings and stuff in numismatics, but for every King there are thousands of commoners and they all have stories too.

Sir Arthur Blake KBE JP – a photograph taken later in life – courtesy of the national portrait gallery.

Talking about acceptances – I had a rejection this morning. It means that my record for April is 100% rejections. Not one single acceptance. It’s a strange month, as there was only one journal open for submissions, and that was only open until 15th April, which is why I can tell you, by the 24th, that I have a 100% rejection record. I’m sure I’ll get over it.

That’s it for now. I will have some cracking photos for you over the next few days as we have been going through some old boxes. However, for now,

 

The Worm in the Apple

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Arnot Hill

It’s a very pleasant day today. The sun is shining, birds are feeding and the house is quiet. At a time like this I should be able to write tremendous things.

However, there’s always a worm in the apple and, as usual, I am failing to capitalise on my good fortune. I’m worrying about all sorts of things. They are all minor and they will all be resolved in time, but they seem to take the edge off things. On top of that, I don’t really have a plan, just a huge disorganised pile of things in my head with an imaginary notice that says “To Do”. It’s not much help.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

Then, of course, there is the feeling that I should just sit down and sort myself out. I’m in the same position as the hypothetical coach who offers his team the advice “score more goals” from the sidelines. It’s right, I do need (metaphorically speaking) score more goals, but I actually need help with the nuts and bolts rather than the grand picture.

You can’t just shout “score more tries” from the sidelines (note I’m reverting to rugby as it is a more comfortable place for me than football. It’s about the 101 ways a team does all the small things better – I once read an interesting piece about the effects of simply trying to gain a yard in every tackle, not just stopping the opposition but gaining a little ground each time.

Tufted Duck – Arnot Hill Park

There are around 700 tackles in the average Rugby League match. Assuming even distribution that means one team, if it can make an extra yard per tackle , can gain 350 yards per match. That’s 3.5 lengths of the pitch, giving you more chances to score, and keeping the opposition further out.

Same goes for Rugby Union. They make around 170 tackles per team per match, which is still nearly two pitch lengths, and it’s still an advantage worth having.  They do, of course, have other areas of the game missing from Rugby League, where they can employ similar small improvements.

The Heron is back again. Arnot Hill Park

So, my new list, which I am going to start working on as soon as I post this, will be about the nuts and bolts of writing. Picking the high value targets and cutting out distractions (like computer games and losing my notes).

However, by the time I have posted this, Julia will be home from her stint in the tearoom, and I will be distracted by making her lunch. Some things just can’t be avoided. Happy wife, happy life.

Greylag Goose Arnot Hill Park Arnold

By a great feat of organisation (I sometimes get it right) I have found the picture I need to match the title. The rest of the pictures are others from Arnot Hill Park which don’t show worms in apples.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

Note that the worm/apple, being an older sculpture, is treated with preservative. The newer ones are left to decay naturally. This old man/tree spirit sculpture shown below no longer exists, nature having taken its course.

Arnot Hill Park, Arnold, Nottingham

 

 

 

Cutting It Fine

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It is done. After another mad struggle I finally submitted my last of my ten submissions for the month. A while ago I was happy with my position, then it all slipped away. I lost my focus and my ability to write and it took the prospect of failure to kick-start my brains again.

This morning, having submitted only three lots, I ws seriously thinking about giving up. Then something took over. I got everything done, apart from two submissions to a magazine that hasn’t accepted anything from me since a change of editor  Then I had tea and watched the quizzes on TV. That left me with a couple of hours. So I watched The Yorkshire Auction House for a while.

Then I sang a song to myself and started again.

Every bursted bubble has a glory!
Each abysmal failure makes a point!
Every glowing path that goes astray,
Shows you how to find a better way.
So every time you stumble never grumble.
Next time you’ll bumble even less!
For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses of success!

Yes, it’s the song from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It seemed to work, because I managed to write 10 passable haiku, edit a couple of haibun and get it all sent off with four minutes to spare.

Next month I have only one submission in the plan, but will look for some more places to send stuff to. I my also have to start counting those other submissions I make. I know I’m not really competing for publication, and it would have to be pretty bad to get rejected, but it all takes time.

Photos from Julia.

 

 

The Pitfalls of Contentment

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Although I have a lot to look forward to and a lot to be grateful for – a new house, someone paying me not to work (or a pension as it is also known) and the ability to see Julia all day rather than just for a rushed breakfast and an evening of preparing for the next day, I am at a low ebb in other ways.

I am, for instance, just days away from the end of several submission windows, with nothing ready and, currently, no interest in writing poetry. It’s actually worse than it sounds, because I haven’t even done my list of planned submissions for the year. I’m sure it was only about a month since I said I was going to aim higher this year. So far I have done nothing.

Contentment, it seems, takes its toll.

My Orange Parker Pen

My plan is to improve by writing more. And to write more I have to submit more, because it doesn’t count as writing unless somebody judges it. For instance – my first paragraph uncoiled as one sentence. And that sentence is 65 words. Now, it’s well known that sentences over 30 words are difficult for most people to understand, the British Government style guide specifies a 25 word maximum and many authorities on writing suggest 15-20 words as being ideal, though James Joyce, who was probably a better writer than most Civil Servants, once wrote a sentence that was 4,391 words long (I knew I had a good reason for avoiding Joyce), so it’s fair to suggest that one of the benefits of submitting writing to editors is that they will curb these tendencies (though note how J K Rowling’s books got longer as she became more successful and no editor dared tell her to cut out half the words). I think that was 113   I am a mere amateur compared to Joyce. But you probably already knew that.

I’ve been getting complacent recently – submitting pieces for the Numismatic Society Facebook page does not involve a lot of competition as there are only two of us writing the posts, and that fell to one for a while over Christmas because the other writer was ill.

Time to start testing myself, I think. The only way to improve is to get a few rejections. That will wake me up.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Planning

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Peacock on crocus

Today, I messed round on the fringes of poetry. I am no closer to submitting the December poetry than I was a couple of days ago. However, it is familiar territory and nothing to worry about. It is not a matter of life and death. Tomorrow I will make a decision on whether I submit or leave it. I prefer to make a decision rather than just let it drift. Then I must get next year set out, listing all my planned submission dates.

I did, however, do two short articles on medallions for the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire Facebook page. It’s not great literature, and doesn’t solve any mysteries, but it keeps me out of mischief and keeps my mind engaged.

Crocus at Nottingham

Today, apart from this, was uneventful. We had brunch (which included leftover sweet potato fries) and an evening meal consisting of a ham sandwich with a variety of leftovers – including frozen chicken nuggets left over from Christmas Eve and various wrinkly salad items. These two meals allowed us to feel like we were cutting back, and still left time to eat shortbread biscuits.

The sunflower seeds in the garden feeder are going down at a satisfactory pace and the fat balls are showing signs of avian attention. The nyger seed, however, remains untouched. We will probably use it to mix in with other things at a later date. My plan is to replace it with a peanut feeder. I think we have an old one hanging about, and peanuts seem to be an attractive food. Meanwhile, I have plans to plant teasel and sunflowers in the garden to provide natural food. We also need some more berry-producing shrubs.

Daffodils

When mum and dad moved into the bungalow, I produced a planting scheme which allowed for cover, security, bird food and year round interest. Their gardener (they had him for years at three different houses) removed most of my shrubs and substituted the normal boring mix he always relied on. They have a variety of shrubs but nothing with spines or berries. I’m going to start making changes, but you should always spend a year in a garden before you start work on major things.

Daffodils

My first project will be to check for the presence of bulbs, once the flowers start. I’m fairly sure that I will be able to get some snowdrops in, if nothing else. After that, it will be a question of waiting for autumn to plant more bulbs. Bulbs, like me, are simple things. I really should have planted some pots of bulbs in the autumn, but there was so much to do it escaped me.

Irises at Wilford

That End of Year Feeling

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Little Egrets – almost in the back garden . . .

I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things. With a new house and wife who is determined to use her retirement to make me do things, I’m going to have plenty to do (we still have to finish moving an awful lot of stuff). However, I want to get back to writing. This, traditionally, is the time of year when I count up the submissions and the acceptances and decide if I have done enough.

It’s tricky this year. I have definitely not done enough but I have had other things on my mind like the chest infection, the trip to urology and the house move. I’m cutting myself some slack here. It’s not been an overly productive year, but it’s not been bad either, and I do have excuses. Of course, I’ve always had excuses, which is why I am in my 67th year with my carefully horded “potential” still intact.  If I’m not careful I am going to go to the grave with the song still in me (to misquote Thoreau).

May, and the end of an era

Last year I had  20 acceptances and 7 rejections. With the one I am sending this afternoon that will be 28 submissions. It compares with 37 for the year before. Because I lost some paperwork to computer glitches (or, more precisely, my ineptitude in backing things up) I’m not sure what my figures are for previous years.

As I recall, I was pushing towards 50 submissions a year at one time and talking about trying for a hundred, because that’s the figure that is often use in articles on writing and rejection. The theory is that trying for 100 submissions (some even try for 100 rejections) stops the sting of rejection, gives you plenty of practice and makes you more industrious. Blog posts don’t count, because there is no chance of rejection. I can, I suppose, add my 23 pieces for the Numismatic Society of Nottingham FB page, as there is a small chance of rejection there.

Admiral Vernon and Commodore Brown – the start of my numismatic writing career in retirement 

However, that’s still a lot of submitting to be done if I’m going to make a serious attempt on 2025.

First I will get the last submissions of 2024 done, then I will start on the plan for 2025.

Pictures are some highlights from 2024. It takes all sorts . . .

 

Words

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Cottage loaves – various staes of success

I wrote two posts after the last one was published, and filed them both. One was about the growing corruption in the world and the UK’s slide down to 20th position in the league tables. The other was about writing poetry. One was boring and the other was boring and self-indulgent.

They ended up around 400 words each and the only thing worth preserving is that out of my last four submissions I have had three poems accepted. I have not heard back from the fourth.

That’s over 800 words I wrote for no real purpose. It’s nice to know I can knock out 800 words without a problem, less nice to know that it does me little good. I really should divert all those words into something useful.

Apple juice

I could write begging letters. I imagine that most of them will be unsuccessful but it’s a thought. I did once, when I was young and enthusiastic, write some letters to newspapers that paid for letters, and did get several cheques. However, it was difficult striking just the right note (a topic of interest balanced with the right degree of outrage) and I soon moved on to doing filler pieces for a magazine that took interesting facts and scattered them in little boxes throughout the text. I can’t quite remember what happened to them – some editorial change that meant they weren’t needed. After that I tried full length articles and short stories but it’s a lot of work for little success in a crowded market, and I had kids by then.

That’s probably the best thing about kids – an instant excuse for everything I didn’t quite do. However, it’s noticeable that my two successful periods of writing poetry fall either side of the kids taking all my time.

I rest my case.

Making cider vinegar

 

Pictures are from October 2015.