On Achieving a Distinction in The Creative Writing Module of My Degree.

Hello everyone, and thank you for joining me on my monthly ‘writerly ramblings’ blog post., (yes I made that word up!)

Yesterday, I was thrilled to bits to receive an overall score of 82% in the creative writing module of my degree. I have no words, I have regained my self-worth.

Achievable, I would say because I am studying with the Open University. The teaching and support is first class. I don’t need to leave my house. I only work when I feel up to it, (I have to pace myself ALL the time because of fatigue). I can turn the computer off if I get a headache, or if my eyes start hurting, and so on. I won’t go on about MS, you won’t meet two people who have the condition with the same symptoms, and impetuously worded conversations around it can become rather tiresome.*

When I was forced to give up nursing six years ago due to having MS, I went through a very difficult time. This is part of my (non-fiction) story.  When I started writing ‘full-time’ an ex-colleague commented ‘If you can do that, why can’t you still work?’ Not the case, and not the point either, it was not my decision to leave work, and it was not my fault that I have this chronic condition.

You can see why I am nervous about celebrating my good news, but the point I am trying to make is, this is me now. There is hope, it is possible to dig yourself out of a hole, and if you happen to be reading this post because you have searched ‘writing inspiration’ then I am saying to you ‘JUST GO FOR IT’. Writing will give you SO MUCH.

Writing for me is not just a case of my legs don’t work like they used to so now I have to do something different. I write because I love it. I love reading, I love escaping into a different world and I love that I can write and escape into another world too. And I am studying writing because my husband (correctly) suggested ‘why don’t you learn your trade?’

I write because it feels like this is what I should be doing.

Getting a good result has been an added bonus, I have learnt so much during this module which will hopefully feature in further blog posts – in particular, that ‘writing what you know, doesn’t mean writing what you know (about)’. That blew my mind, and I was very pleased to learn it. I don’t think J K Rowling knew about how to be an eleven-year-old wizard, and Stephen King did not know how to be a menstrual teenager but they still wrote about what they could see, smell, taste, imagine etc – this is what you know – AS A HUMAN.

On reflection, I have learnt that I am ‘safe’ in my writing style, this is what I’ll be working on next – although I cannot promise any sex scenes in my series Curmudgeon Avenue!

* I must also add to why I am able to ‘achieve’; I am in a good place, I have an amazing, supportive husband not only in what he says but he makes life easy for me. Doing the shopping, the garden, walking the dog, anything. My daughter is the funniest person I know and, she has grown up! She has a fab job and lives with her lovely boyfriend. (in other words, I don’t have small children to look after!)

This is the Curmudgeon Avenue series

 

Happy reading and writing everybody! Samantha xx

PS, the picture is from WordPress’ free photo library, I have a while to go before I graduate. 🙂

The Procrastination of a Compulsive Scribbler

 

Sorry, it’s a long one!

When I started this blog, I had big plans – I still do but I am finding that I don’t have enough time to read and comment on everything I want to (who does? Your eyes would be all over your face!)

This week, I’ve been procrastinating. I had a bit of a software meltdown but am getting there with the book. I’ve got MS everything takes me twice as long to do, I’ve got no energy. My husband does loads around the house, shopping etc but out of some warped fear of losing control I secretly try and do everything. Except it’s not secret because I drop stuff. Last week I had a smashing time with one of those fancy bowls, and a rogue pair of garden shears fell and punctured a can of beer (check me out – I can’t open the under the stairs cupboard without beer flying everywhere!) Wednesday I went to hydrotherapy – which is swimming with a physiotherapist (not the same thing as swimming with dolphins) I forced myself into my tracky pants and set off home, in the lift I felt all funny, the ‘whoosh’ of getting to the bottom floor made me dizzy, why did I feel funny? Turned out I had left my walking stick upstairs, there ensued a frantic search, a lifeguard’s dinner break was interrupted, I was fussed over ‘sit down, are you alright?’ My stick was in the toilet cubicle, how embarrassing! When I got home, I found I was tidying up, sorting things out so that I could have a clear head to write my next essay for my degree, on the Benin bronzes (BTW the next person who asks my why history is covered on a Creative Writing degree is off the Christmas card list, after being swiftly referred to the Open University module leader) . So after a day of procrastination, the following day produced no first draft of that essay either… (before you read the next bit, please be reassured I love my daughter loads, but she’s not a morning person)

Daughter : ‘Mummy! Mummy! I need change for the car park!’

Me : ‘I’m on the loo’

Daughter : ‘I need it now, I need to go to college!’

What I wanted to say : ‘You are twenty years old, you are a trainee accountant, please try and be a bit more organised!’

What I said : ‘Ok I’m coming, it’s alright, I went to the loo yesterday!’

When I got downstairs, I found daughter (same person who needs to leave RIGHT NOW) playing with puppy Martha, who had been playing outside rolling in mud. Sort puppy out, go back upstairs (I’m bursting now). In the bathroom, daughter is turning her eyebrows into twins – not sisters.

Daughter : ‘get out! I’m in here’

When she goes downstairs, I hear her shouting ‘Why did you buy sparkling water?’

What I said : ‘because I like it!’

What I said under my breath : ‘When are you moving out?’ (I don’t really want her to)

She sets off, I go downstairs to find all my tidying up/procrastination from the previous day ruined.

What really happened : Daughter was looking for non sparkling water bottles, and accidently dropped one bottle, plus packets of crisps were mysteriously strewn across the floor.

What I imagined happened (in a Victoria Wood style spoof documentary) : Daughter : ‘What I like to do when my mum has been on one of her OCD  tidying days, is ruin it, just for fun… crisp packets on the floor… no still water I like, so I’ll wipe my mum’s off the shelf… It’ll give her something to do! …

Later on, I thought I had a tummy bug (just a few sentences of essay had been written by this point)… husband comes home early… he has a tummy bug too! This has never happened before… In all the years I’ve known him… and we’ve never been ill at the same time… on checking Daughter, she is fine, although a bit dehydrated (only joking, she’s capable of buying herself a drink). Could it be the romantic meal he took me out for on Valentines day? Are we allergic to oysters? Does it take two days to come out in your system? No, we’ve decided to blame Martha puppy and her jumpy lick your face habit. Eww.

The flowers are from husband to me, he had dropped them off earlier in the day at the place we were eating, so that I would get a nice surprise when I arrived. Aww, I asked him why, he said ‘you like cheesy things like that’ … Awww…

I got a fab review on Amazon for my only book currently on there, this has encouraged me loads.. plus I got my results from my last essay 78% check me out with my writing flukery! (must stop making words up)

I promise to get round to writing… next week! Off to do a bit of reading now, plus one of the cats is meowing angrily at the back door…

Happy writing, Samantha