No place like om

Okay, I admit it, you caught me on the hop. I was miles away, blissed out in non-space. No, not daydreaming - a little further on from that. I was meditating. 


Sometimes, when a plot line is fragmenting before my eyes or a character refuses to do what I tell them to (and, more importantly, doesn't give me any other suggestions), I retreat within. No mountain, lotus posture (not with these hips) or kaftan required. Just stillness and the breath. It needn't take long, just a few minutes to recalibrate and remind myself what it's all really about.


Don't get me wrong, I do get through a surprising quantity of snack foods, chocolate (it's a separate category for me) and peppermint tea. And I often love the backdrop of jazz, classical or something from the sixties. But sometimes I get so tangled up and carried away by the business of writing that I forget it's a choice. And not in a good way.


So, here are a few thoughts about the benefits of meditation in the workplace - for those of us lucky enough to have that option.

1. One of the objectives of meditation is integration. No more dichotomies between how you want to behave in your own time and how you feel you need to behave in work life.

2. A mind that in clutter-free is more likely to respond well to stressful situations, difficult people (which could be the same thing), and changing priorities. You can become the still centre of the storm, regardless of what's going on around you. 

3. A clear mind is more receptive to intuition, creative inspiration and intelligent choices. Inner calm allows you to operate from a position of non-ego.

4. Stillness begets stillness and peace begets peace. Call it non-violent protest if you want! Meditation reminds us that the workplace doesn't have to be a drama stage or a battlefield.

5. Meditation reclaims the space, so that you have positive associations with work. Let's face it, if you were going to spend upwards of eight hours a day at work, a little tranquility wouldn't go amiss!

How do you keep it together when your writing is coming apart at the seams?

WRITING, AND CHOCOLATE

Today I’ve eaten:

3 chocolate biscuits
1 Magnum Classic
1 cream egg
and a handful of licorice

...between lunch and tea-time. Oh, and a bag of cheese and onion crisps.

This is not good.

For a while now, I’ve been struggling to maintain my weight at 9 stone 3lbs. That is, to stop losing any. I only had to get a wee bit stressed and the weight would fall off me. Now, suddenly, I’ve a little beachball for a tummy and am beginning to waddle like a penguin (Note to Self: don’t mention Penguins).

What, you may ask, has this got to do with writing?

The answer is, Everything.

It’s no coincidence that I’ve begun writing properly again. Writing and chocolate seem to go together like…waistband and elasticated. There’s something about the writing process that demands time out. Have a break – have a You Know What. A break! (think I) I'll take an internet break. I fool myself that because such breaks are virtual, they can't lead to calorific indulgence. The slippery slope proceeds like this:

- Yay. I finished a sentence…I’ll just see if anyone’s sent me an email
- Huh. Well someone’s probably posted something interesting on WriteWords
- Just a quick game of word-bubbles then. After all, that’s literary.
- Wonder what Jonathan Cainer’s forecasting for Pisces today?
- Or, for that matter, for this month?
- Someone’ll have sent me an email by now.
- Huh. What’s the latest on Katie Price and Alex Reid?
- No!!! No!!! No!!!
- Who’s eating what on Facebook?
- I need chocolate.

The synapses of my brain have become hard-wired between chocolate and writing. Write, I tell myself. And – zzzzpppp – chocolate’s right there too. I tell myself it’s because there are so many similarities between them. Yes, there are. Really. Chocolate is narrative, innit?

Look at the adverts. Always set in the world of fairy tales – animated bunnies with West Country accents conducting endless flirtations in meadows; young, thin women (always thin women) reclining on moonlit couches or voyaging on chocolate boats through Swiss chocolate landscapes. Of course the writer in me is seduced. This is a story. And I know exactly how it’ll end. But hey, the insidious message goes: Live for the moment.. You’re worth it.

The names of chocolate bars through history have been as carefully considered as the titles of novels: Aero. Flyte. Flake. Wispa. Drifter. Relax, they coo. Let us beguile you. You can come to no harm with us. We’re so…insubstantial. Or, in the case of Mars, so far away. Smarties. Clever you for choosing us. Poppets. Small, cute and innocent, just poppet in.

At least you knew where you were with a Yorkie.
Porkie, that’s where.

And have you noticed how the eating in these adverts is always really slow? Have you noticed the sensual unwrapping, the lingering eye-to-chocolate contact, the holding-it-in-the-mouth-for-eons-with-a-self-satisfied-feline-smile-curling-about-one’s-lips process? With respect, m’lud, these are not Real Women. Real Women grebbit-n’stuffit (apologies, Marina Lewycka).

Darn. I hoped that by writing a Whole Blog about chocolate, I might have indulged my craving by proxy.

Fat chance. I’ve just been working up an appetite.

Cry Me A River

On Sunday night, the kids and I, like millions more, settled down at 8pm to watch the X Factor.


Less typically, we were dressed respectively as Voldomort, a werewolf and Frankenstein's monster as we'd spent the evening trick or treating.

Sadly, as we traipsed our sorry route through the village begging for sweets, it bucketed it down, so our face paint and fake blood pooled unattractively under our chins.


Fortunately, we had amassed two carrier bags full of fun sized Milky Ways to cheer our spirits, as we sat, steaming, glued to the set.


Far removed were the poor contestants who looked like they could well do with some chocolate.


For the uninitiated, the X Factor is a talent show which culminates in a weekly public vote to decide who will remain to fight another day and who will be kicked off the show.
Brutally, the contestants are lined up like christians waiting for the lions to be released, while the public cheer and jeer.

Then, one by one, the survivors' names are read out until only two acts remain. These are the losers who will have to howl their way through another number before being subjected to the final judgment by Simon Cowell and his mates.


Imagine Herrod asking the crowd between Jesus and Barrabus and you're not far wrong.


This week, the losers were a girl band in very high heels and a funky young hipster who sounds like she smokes forty a day.
As they waited for the axe to fall they wept bitter tears with the world watching.

And the question on any normal sane person's lips must surely be...why would anyone put themselves through that?
Why would a person bare themselves to the thumbs up or thumbs down, time after time?


And I understand the incredulity, but, as a writer, I've got to admit that I get it.


As soon as any of us scribbers put pen to paper we begin the rejection courtship dance.


First, there's our inner critic. The one that tells us we are rubbish wiht every word we write.

Next comes 'feedback' from trusted readers, writers groups or mentors. It's a very rare day when they smile at us and declare ' you've a Booker winner on your hands.'

At some stage we release our work and try to secure an agent. Cue letter upon letter thanking us for our submission but actually, it's not for them.

And if you thought getting an agent was the end of the merry jig, think again. Enter a raft of publishers, all gushsing with praise, but on reflection, they won't be buying your book, they just don't love it enough.

Finally, the writer gets a deal. Yay. Salad days. Except...the editor isn't too keen on the title/the ending/the sub plot.

But there it is, at last, a book. A real book. You've done it. No more rejection.

WRONG.

It's only just begun...sales figures disappointing, the supermarkets not too sure. Then some bastard pans you on Amazon.


But you know what? Despite all the knockbacks, I love it. I choose to put myself and my work out there so I have to take the pain. If you can't, you're dead in the water and this game aint for you.
Same as the contestants on the X Factor, today their heart s breaking but tomorrow they'll be back in the saddle.

Cos that's what we do...now pass the Maltezers.

Virtually Friends?

Hello, everyone! And how are you today? Had a good breakfast? Got the kids to school? Humoured your boss or already been down the gym to stretch and tone? Come on then, let’s get on with the writing day. Let’s celebrate each other’s literary successes, let’s mentally hold each other’s tired typing hand. Because that’s what we do, here on the net – regardless of our identity away from the screen, regardless of whether we stutter or dress weird or laugh like a donkey on dope. We stand firm, side by side. We’re in this game together, arms open wide.

Heh, heh! It’s a fickle community, I find on the web. Best buddies come and go – some stay in touch, even meet up with us, in the flesh. But others fall by the wayside because we’ve moved on and they haven’t or because they’ve found success first.

During my years mingling in on-line writing communities, I’ve found there are various types of virtual friends:

1) Those you email every day – every few hours! – to pour out your woes which are usually submission/writers’ block related, but occasionally to do with the real world. Messages are signed off with kisses and there are usually LOLs. They keep us going through the ups and downs. Until one day, the affair fizzles out - normally because one of us has got a deal and the other, er, hasn’t. That’s when we both find a new buddy who’ll really understand. It’s ta ta for now. Thanks for everything. If we remember, we'll buy each other's books when they come out.

2) Those that are useful to know – for their knowledge, for their clinical kiss-free advice and contacts. We are both networkers and keep each other posted with our submission progress, whilst knowing this is partly to pick up any tips or agent news. Emails are less frequent and strictly to do with writing. There are no smiley faces, but we pass on the occasional link to a new agent’s website - once we’ve submitted our own work, of course.

3) Similar to number 2, but those we see as mentors. We are in awe and feel genuine warmth for their help. We don’t like to pester but know we can rely on them for carefully worded advice and timely pick-me-ups. We wonder what they get in return and hope, one day, we’ll be in a position to know, if someone comes to us for help.

4) Banter buddies – they are some of the best! If we must, we’ll talk seriously about the craft, but most of our time is spent in forums, giggling over our latest purple sex scene or recommending a new chocolate bar. Lots of smiley faces and kisses, lots of laughs. And lots of virtual cakes and wine if any agent dares turn us down!

5) Genuine friends, whom, if we’re lucky, we get to meet in real life, who ‘get’ our real personality, who like us regardless of whether we are a writer or not. I’ve met up with authors before and wish circumstances – and location – allowed me to more often. Not that I’m advocating meeting up with any old bod. Never do it alone - or at night time. Treat it like a blind date!

So there you have it – do you recognize yourself? What kind of friends have you made from writers’ forums? I hope some of them are on this blog:)

Quickfire Questions with... Della Galton

Della Galton sold her first story in 1987. Since then she has sold hundreds of stories and serials here and abroad. She lives with her husband Tony in a 400-year-old cottage and enjoys walking her dogs in the beautiful Dorset countryside.

My first sale was…
A poem to Pony Magazine when I was eight!

My family think my writing is…
All based on them.

The best/worst thing about writing short stories for magazines is…
They’re very short. That’s the best and the worst thing.

Long hand first or computer?
Computer.

On completing a story I feel…
Relieved.

When I run out of ideas I …
Don’t often run out of ideas to be honest.

Ideas come to me when…
I’m driving, chatting, doing housework, walking the dogs, all the time really.

My biggest tip for new women’s mag writers would be…
Read the magazines constantly.

3 authors – dead or alive I’d like to invite to dinner would be…
Teresa Ashby, Nick Hornby and Daphne du Maurier.

Favourite writing outfit?
Soft fleece and comfy trousers, plus hot water bottle. Our house is freezing.

Favourite writing snack?
Chocolate. Favourite any time snack actually!

Daily Mail or Guardian?
Mail – much better for plot lines!

Corrie or Eastenders?
Corrie – brilliantly written.

Best woman’s magazine story I’ve read during the last three months is…
The Leftover Cat by Teresa Ashby



Della has published two novels - "Passing Shadows" (2006), "Helter Skelter" (2007) and "How To Write and Sell Short Stories" (2008) - all with Accent Press,

Ten Great Reasons for Remaining Unpublished

1) I can change genres without having to change my name.

2) I revel in comments such as “Good for you for following your dream”, instead of “I haven’t heard of your book”, “How much then do you earn?” or the classic, “Ooh, would you take a look at my work?”

3) Tax forms? Not for me – I’m an artist, not an accountant.

4) My self-esteem is not dependent on sales figures or reviews on Amazon. It relies solely on my own view of my work until the submission process and even then I can dismiss an agent who’s rejected me as a narrow-minded jerk.

5) I feel no compulsion to spend my Saturday mornings at the local bookshops, dragging my novel to the front of the shelves.

6) I’m not writing to a deadline, there’s no advance to hand back, so I can go on holiday, read Heat magazine or watch Celebrity Big Brother without the slightest twinge of guilt. My time is my own.

7) I can stuff myself with pizza and eat chocolate until I get spots. No one is going to take my photo for a cover or judge my appearance whilst I sign their book.

8) As a struggling writer I’m a far more romantic figure, untainted by commercialism, surviving on my muse and fresh air alone… although my spouse’s salary does help, as does my credit card.

9) I can still dream of a Hollywood deal, in fact I’ve already cast Daniel Craig in the leading role. I’ve practised my answers for Oprah and know exactly what I’ll wear to the television studio.

10) I don’t obsess with self-Googling my name – imagine the ego you’d need to do that? How annoying it would be to find another person of the same name more successful than yourself? Ahem, not that I’d know….


So there you have it! And perhaps my tongue is lodged firmly in my cheek. But come on, you published authors out there – I bet you’d forgotten just how good the wilderness years were!