2620 posts and counting… seriously people?

 I’ve just got back from a whirlwind trip to Dubai (to teach dance workshops) & Qatar (to catch up with family). Yes, me! Can you believe it. This home girl who has never been off African soil. If you don’t count the boat trip with my granny when I was 15 where we sailed from Durban, into international waters for a few hours, then to Cape Town.                               

It was fabulous and I was spoiled thoroughly in every way. I even rode a camel… (Thanks Kirsty!) His name was Shadeen and he was a true camel gentleman. In fact, the whole experience was a little reminiscent of pony rides for big people.

As for the rest of it, don’t get me started – you’d be snoring or crying with boredom by the end of my story. I landed home last Wednesday at 8:30pm, smack into organising my 5yo’s party on Friday for 22 kidlets and a ladies tea for about 100 on Saturday. Though I had some seriously motivated and organised ladies sorting that in my absence, all I really had to do was show up with food for my table and not forget my steps. So I’ve been a teensy bit busy.  

Not as busy as you lot though. According to my inbox, I have 2620 blog posts to catch up on! Seriously people? That is going to take me the next 3 months! I’m thinking this is what most agents feel like on a regular day. *makes a mental note to stop harrassing agents who haven’t responded in 24 hours*

I will pop in and see what you’ve all been up to… but until I get to you… Tell me your news!

 

Bubbles and Rock

When things get tough, do you ever eyeball yourself firmly in the mirror and give yourself a pep talk? I know I do. I just make sure nobody is watching first.

I’ve come to realize though, that my motivational eyeballings – even the very best ones, are a little bit like wrapping myself in a bubble. For a while I can float along, feeling cushioned from the bite of an anorexic bank account, safely tucked away from bickering kids and in firm denial of my hungry petrol tank.

There’s just one problem with a self-motivated-pep-talk-bubble. It just takes one sharp object, one tiny prick and its pops. I can tell you from experience that when you’re floating in a bubble that bursts, there’s only one way to go and it ain’t up. You feel the teeth of your bank account when you can’t buy the bottle your kid needs for school to make your Mom’s day pressy, when you have to say no to your teenager’s social life because you can’t afford the petrol for the extra trip.

It doesn’t take a sledgehammer to pop a bubble.

Yet somehow, when God speaks, there are no bubbles involved. His Words come with a standard issue of solid rock under your feet and the guts to face life unflinching. No matter what. One word from Him, and I’m on solid ground, light years away from the quicksand of doubt.

I think I know who I’d rather be listening to…

Things aren’t what they seem…

If you had peeped into my bedroom this morning at 8, you would have thought – look at that lazy thing, tucked up under the duvet doing nothing. You would have, in fact, been dead wrong. Oh yes - to a casual observer it would seem that I was lying very snug and still, but what you would never have guessed is that my mind was rolling Chapter 6 around, figuring out the best way forward for my characters.

I’ve realized my eldest kiddo employs the same strategy in the mornings before school. She’ll eat breakfast, then have a five minute lie-in under the duvet. This used to drive me insane. I’d resist the urge - oh alright, I didn’t really try – to yell at her to get moving you’re going to be late! Then one morning, the lights went on. She began rolling her eyes up, the way she does when she’s thinking, quietly counting on her fingers… I listened really carefully. She was not singing the latest Adele song, she was in fact going through what waited for her that day. She was planning – not dozing. Outside? Dozing. Inside? Planning!  Wow.

Turns out whoever said that you can’t judge a book by its cover, was telling truth.

This got me thinking. What about life? Has your life ever looked like someone took a giant blender through the middle of it and laughed at the chaos? I know mine has. If you look on the surface, there is every reason to stop the train and demand a refund. But! In those times of trouble, you have no idea what is being established inside of you through the very things you would choose to avoid.

I have a sneaky feeling that if we choose to live by what we see with our eyes, if we let the externals dictate to us – we’ll live lives that fall far short of what we’ve been created for…

Writers – ever wonder what your brain looks like?

In glorious technicolour… ta-da!

Yip. That’s your brain.

You think I’m kidding? Well I’m not. It goes like this…

My bag died a slow, nasty death. It started with the handle slowly detaching itself, first one side, then the other. After that, it suffered a chronic zip failure and it was pretty much downhill from there. So I did what every self-respecting mom would do. I borrowed my teenagers funky blue bag. All was great until she had a movie date with friends, and spoke the dreaded words, ”Mom, I need my bag.” Drat.

I tucked my purse deep into my armpit, carried my phone and went bag shopping. Now you must understand my history. The last five bags that I have owned have been identical. Black, practical and identical. I go to the same fleamarket, find the same lady (she calls herself ‘The Bag Lady’) buy an identical bag and life goes on without a wobble.

But this time I didn’t. This gaudy multi-colour mess snagged me from the moment I laid eyes on it. Sure I looked at every other bag in the shop, but this one kept singing my name. So I just did it. Bought it. Left the shop, transferred my purse from my armpit to my screamingly bright new bag, ran to the car giggling like a pre-schooler.

It sat smugly on the seat next to me all the way home. Half of me was delighted at the change, half of me a little shell-shocked and my brain hung stranded between the two, frantically wondering why the attraction was so strong.

Then I clicked. This bag is just like us. You see the black… it is strong and deliberate. It gives the bag form and stability, makes it functional and practical. But then… in between all the black you have those crazy colours! That is a writers brain for you… right there. Half of it, analytical and structured – plot / pacing / world-building… all those things that have to line up and be correct for the work to make sense. The other half? Has to fly free and unfettered to find those intruiging storylines, characters that hook the heart of our readers… emotions and exquisite word weaving.

So there you go. Your brain. Well – sort of.

At least I know why I bought this crazy bag and why it makes me happy everytime I look at it.

Dancing kittens

Or should that be… dancing AND kittens.

My writing has had to wait a bit this week for two good reasons. Technically four.

We’ve added 3 kittens to our household. I know… 3! Eek! But the equation is simple maths – 3 kids = 3 cats. It’s the only way it’s ever going to work. We intended getting 2 (for the older girls) but they went and fell in love with the 2 gingers. The little grey splodge in the middle stole my heart. Hmmmm. Problem. So we decided to take all 3 and in hindsight, it was the best thing to do. The older girls are very possessive and the littlest would have been miserable. Now they are all happy. Mom included.

Reason 2 is Shekinah, my dance group. We’ve been involved in a Bouquet of Dance over this week. So instead of weaving words, I’ve been sewing ribbons, which you can see here. Last two shows today, then I can hopefully find normal life… and get back to the world inside my head which I’m so fond of.

What have you been up to?

Goosies and salty tears

My heart has a way of recognising truth long before my mind catches up. When truth hits home inside of me, two things happen – I get goosebumps all down my arms and I find myself blubbing like a baby. Without fail. Every time.

As a writer, I get excited when I go goosies. Simply because I know that what moves me – will touch my readers. Maybe not all of them, but thats okay. Us creative types are ‘moved, to move’. Rory Noland describes this dynamic beautifully in his book The Heart of the Artist. To paraphrase… when you watch a movie, hear music or see a painting that makes you want to weep – its because the artist felt deeply about what he was creating.

I felt this when I read Jim Zee’s post Two Heartbeats Wanted – Apply Within. I caught a glimpse of the heart of the man – the things that matter to him and reading it moved me.

I heard a song yesterday that had me undone for most of the day. Why? Because Matt caught the heart of the Father and sang it over me. Over you. Over a broken, hurting world. I’ll leave you with the song…

Wet, muddy – but alive

The last week has been my ‘work deadline’ week in which I produce a monthly  mini-magazine for our church. It involves some writing, a good bit of editing, some photography, some arm-twisting (to get others to write for me), a whole lot of design and layout and seriously little sleep. Did I mention that I don’t get to sleep much? The entire process has a way of reducing my brain to a pile of mush that quivers if you look at it too hard.

The good news is that I delivered it safely to the printers on Wed, and I’m slowly catching up on my home & my family. I feel like I’ve been trawling the bottom of the ocean in deep dark isolation. At last! I’m being let up to see the sun and breathe air again! I’m still soggy and muddy and in serious need of some catch-up-zzzz’s… but I’m up.

The best part of all this is… I get to visit with you lovely lot again! I’ve spent some time each morning skimming through the latest posts while my brain slowly surfaces  over a cup of tea. I don’t want to feel completely cut off. But rounding up enough coherent braincells to produce a vaguely meaningful post? Not a chance.

On a different tack, I do want to take a moment to crack open a bottle of the best cyber-champagne to celebrate some wonderful news. My lovely friend Kerri Maniscalco has landed herself an agent! How nice is that! You should go see what she’s up to, so much fun.

Well folks, the low battery light is blinking furiously in my head and I should probably quit while I’m ahead before I start to dribble drivel through my sleepy fingers.

It has been so nice to see you again!

Your Gifting will make Room for You

This gallery contains 2 photos.

I caught the tail-end of a story on the news yesterday. There was a man, a brilliant maths teacher, forced to flee his country because of political unrest. He settled in Jo’burg and tried to find work in his area of expertise. … Continue reading →

Life as a Sponge…

One of the things I love most about being a writer is living life as a sponge…

We absorb everything: the pitch of the irritated lady’s voice in the queue ahead..  the sad creases of disappointment around a little person’s mouth when mom say’s no! to his nagging for a sucker. The flush on the cheeks of a smitten teen.

Life is never boring when you are constantly surrounded by techni-colour material that will breathe life into your next bit of writing.

Even our own insides become grist for the mill… Think about it – we have ringside seats to what churns inside when bad news comes at us down the phone.  How about the adrenalin thumping, squeal-inducing good news we’ve been waiting for?

I’m training myself to savour and ABSORB each moment – good and bad – analyze it, tag on some appropriate words, then file it away in my mental filing cabinet for the ‘write’ moment.

Life is truly a delicious array of  inspiration. Good and bad. All of it can be used.

May you find much opportunity to get thoroughly soaked this weekend!