Thursday, 5 November 2015

My French Life

The Important Bits

I’ve made an end of year resolution to write every morning for three hours.

I have no idea how it will work out, but today is the fourth day and I’ve written 10,345 words of book one in my new science fiction trilogy.

I have the story arc for each book and the whole series worked out.  I have detailed chapter summaries and character profiles for book one. I’ve done everything the right way round this time.

I have peace and quiet, a large table overlooking my garden and a laptop that has stood me in good stead for the last four years.  I have a cushion for my chair and a hot water bottle on my lap.  I have aspirations.  I have motivation.  I am anchored in my work.

Today, just as on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, I was amazed when I came to the end of chapter five and checked the time.  I had only thirty minutes remaining to change scene and begin chapter six.  I didn’t want to stop.  I liked it where I was. But my eyes began to protest.

So.  Now what? I thought.

I’ve had reheated spaghetti for lunch (not recommended), fed my over-worked husband a larger portion, with salad, taken out the organic waste and turned the compost.  I’ve emptied the dishwasher, folded the towels and flossed my teeth.  The washing needs sorting, the world has gone to rack and ruin, there are bombs and politicians on the midday news.  The bakery is closed, but will re-open in time for me to buy a Suisse for my son’s homecoming snack. I'll make sure the milk is chilled.  

I would go out on my bike if it were not raining.  I would bake a cake if I had the ingredients, or a suitable oven.  I would change the world.  Only the bad bits.  If I could.

It’s almost three o’clock in France.  Nearly time for cheap rate electricity and washing machine noise.  Nearly time to find the sweet wrappers in jeans and crumpled receipts for chain saw links and glue that doesn’t work from Brico Depot.  Nearly time to drag out my exercise bike to pedal fast while I watch something that won’t fill my mind with horror.  Like Tipping Point.  Like Bradley on The Chase.

I’m not complaining.  Far from it.  Just saying.


1 comment:

  1. Also hooked on Tipping Point and The Chase. Love it when Bradley gets the giggles. I usually watch while sitting on my tennis ball and rolling a tin of tomatoes under my right foot. (I have sciatica and plantar fascia trouble and these are exercises the physiotherapist has given me - honest.)
    Yes, you guessed it. Karenne here.