Tag: Writers block

My brain is a basket of mismatched socks

Last weekend I lost it over a pile of socks.

It was a pile of socks I had been staring at for more than a year before finally trying, and failing, to do something with.

I used to have a system. When an odd sock came out of the wash I would put it in a basket in the corner of my room. Periodically I would upend the basket and paw through it, reuniting them with their mates.

I don’t know when the basket became a monster.

One day the multicoloured mess became insurmountable. I had so many socks I couldn’t close my sock draw and the unmatched pile had become a semi-dormant cotton volcano threatening to erupt.

Some of the culprits
Some of the culprits

The odd sock basket came with me when we moved to our new house – and sat there for a year.

It would glare at me malevolently, reminding me that we had been in our new home for 365 days and I still didn’t have my shit sorted.

The sock pile embarrassed me. I would shove it in a corner and forget about it for a while – then another odd sock would turn up.  I would promise myself I would take the basket upstairs, sit in front of the telly and sort the damned thing out – but then I’d be too tired from work, I’d have to cook dinner, there were cat videos on the internet that needed watching…

Yes I realise I was projecting onto the basket. My socky nemesis became a representation of all the things in my life I had been putting off doing. If I could conquer the pile of socks, then everything else would follow.

So that was what I was going to do last weekend. I was finally going to slay the sock monster.

I had a plan. I was going to watch Guardians of the Galaxy in preparation for seeing the second film before it finished in the theatres, dump Mount Socksuvius on the floor and sort it out while watching something that made me smile.

It all fell to pieces when I couldn’t make that happen. I missed the film being on television and was annoyed with myself for that, but that was okay because it was on Netflix -I’d checked the night before. Only it wasn’t,  it was only on Netflix US not NZ. I tried TV on demand, nope. Lightbox, nope. It was a 2014 film for chrissakes, it should’t be so hard!

This upset me much, much, more that it should have.

The problem with being a functioning nutbar is that you often have no idea what silly little thing will make that functioning stop.

OCD is like that for me. Most of the time I’m pretty flexible. If situations change on me I can go with the flow and find a way to make things work. Other times I plan things meticulously in my head and if things don’t conform 100% to that plan I get really upset – irrationally so. The worst part of it is, I know it’s irrational. That’s why it’s so frustrating. I know it doesn’t make sense to feel so upset, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to stomp my feet and pull my hair out.

There doesn’t always have to be a reason, but this time I think there was. I was a bit stressed, my circadian rhythms were only just starting to sort themselves out after returning from my first (non-sailing related) OE, I was trying to start a new writing project (more detail on that, and the OE, in the next blog) and it seemed my house and garden were falling down around my ears. I was trying to do all of things and achieving none of the things and now I couldn’t even watch my movie and organise my damned socks.

Chucking them out and starting again wasn’t an option. I have issues letting go. I like my socks – they’re interesting. They have cats and boats and skull and crossbones, stripes and spots and so many shades of orange.

Of course you can match cats and boats or spots and stripes, I do that all the time – and I have done that with as many as I can, but some are different sizes or different types. Some are gym socks, some are socks to wear with boots. It doesn’t always work.

Sock3

One of the upsides of having OCD is that, usually, this sort of thing is fun. I love organising books, sorting out nuts and bolts on the the boat, colour coding buttons – but for this one I have a massive block.

And what did I do with the ones that didn’t match? I didn’t want to put them in the landfill, I don’t think socks are recyclable and odd socks are a pretty stink thing to donate to an op shop.

Paddy, who had been stoically coping with my irrational anger and looming tears, came to the rescue with that one. Car enthusiasts use a lot of scrap material as cleaning rags when they are tinkering around with their automobiles. I could put the ones I wasn’t going to keep in a rag bag and chuck that in the clothing bin. No sock left behind!

As I sat there contemplating the pile in the middle of the floor and I had a sock-related epiphany.

The sockpocalypse (asockalypse?) I was staring at was a perfect metaphor for my own brain. It’s exactly what I imagine it looks like in there – an unruly pile of colours and textures that don’t always always do what they’re told.

A bright, beautiful pile of crazy that’s sometimes impossible to keep under control.

I love it and I hate it and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The best socks I have ever owned have all been bought for me by my Mum. They come in packs of three and either all of them match or none of them do. They’re interchangeable so it doesn’t matter if you lose one and I think they’re the answer for me.

The socks, like my brain, are a little bit different and help me do things in my own way.

Don't pair? Don't care!
Don’t pair? Don’t care!

I went out yesterday and bought  Guardians of the Galaxy on DVD so I can watch it any damned time I please.

The giant pile of socks is still there, it’s in the middle of the lounge so I can’t miss it.  I know it’s silly, but I feel like if I can get that under control I’ll be able to handle everything else.

I’ll get the house and garden sorted, I’ll start exercising again and I’ll write – a lot. Watch this space!

Letting go

So this lunchtime I did something quite terrifying – I finally let go. I took a year’s worth of agonising, second guessing, swearing and maniacal cackling, stuffed it in an envelope and threw it in a post box.

Fly my pretties! - manuscripts ready to hit the postbox
Fly my pretties! – manuscripts ready to hit the mail

My regular (and infinitely patient) readers will know exactly what I am talking about, but for those of you just poking your noses in – I am writing a book based on this blog. A book I have been writing for what feels like forever.

It’s not the writing that’s hard, that’s what I do – it’s as simple as breathing. I’m not saying that I am spectacularly good at it, just that it comes easy. Other things, not so much. Like marketing and sales-pitches and trying to work out what kind of book people actually want to read.

I could have churned this book out in a month if I’d had the time and the space, but it would have just been a gratuitous travelogue – and while those certainly have their place, I wanted to do something different. And also, let’s be realistic here, I wanted to write something that people would buy.

Once I thought I’d achieved that I then found myself in the position of having to convince other people that they wanted to publish it – and that was where I fell down. Basically I am a rubbish salesperson. I’m short and I’m loud and I’m stroppy but I’m really crap at talking myself up. What right did I have to assume that publishers would want to take a punt on me? What if all the people who have given me feedback on my blog were just humoring me? What if I really actually suck at this?

So I agonised. I did a tonne of research into what publishers wanted – how to present it, how not to present it, how to write chapter summaries and covering letters, and discovered of course that everyone wanted something different. I hit a complete brain-block. Things that should have taken me an afternoon took me weeks and there was no real reason why.

But finally –  with a lot of patience and support from family, friends and of course the Skipper – I got there, Today.

The goods - Part 1, chapter summaries, salespitch and sample pics
The goods – Part 1, chapter summaries, sales pitch and sample pics

Saying it was like printing my hopes and dreams out onto A4 and dropping them in a letter box is probably a little too melodramatic. It was more like ripping off a Band-Aid that has been there so long it has kind of fused into your skin. It hurt, but it was also enormously liberating. There is still more to write, but as I said before, that’s the easy part.

It’s out there now, for better or for worse, and if it isn’t what the publishers want then so be it. I’ve had enough interest that I am quite happy to have a crack at self-publishing, but the book-snob in me wants to try traditional route first.

So wish me luck!

Letting go

So this lunchtime I did something quite terrifying – I finally let go. I took a year’s worth of agonising, second guessing, swearing and maniacal cackling, stuffed it in an envelope and threw it in a post box.

Fly my pretties! - manuscripts ready to hit the postbox
Fly my pretties! – manuscripts ready to hit the mail

My regular (and infinitely patient) readers will know exactly what I am talking about, but for those of you just poking your noses in – I am writing a book based on this blog. A book I have been writing for what feels like forever.

It’s not the writing that’s hard, that’s what I do – it’s as simple as breathing. I’m not saying that I am spectacularly good at it, just that it comes easy. Other things, not so much. Like marketing and sales-pitches and trying to work out what kind of book people actually want to read.

I could have churned this book out in a month if I’d had the time and the space, but it would have just been a gratuitous travelogue – and while those certainly have their place, I wanted to do something different. And also, let’s be realistic here, I wanted to write something that people would buy.

Once I thought I’d achieved that I then found myself in the position of having to convince other people that they wanted to publish it – and that was where I fell down. Basically I am a rubbish salesperson. I’m short and I’m loud and I’m stroppy but I’m really crap at talking myself up. What right did I have to assume that publishers would want to take a punt on me? What if all the people who have given me feedback on my blog were just humoring me? What if I really actually suck at this?

So I agonised. I did a tonne of research into what publishers wanted – how to present it, how not to present it, how to write chapter summaries and covering letters, and discovered of course that everyone wanted something different. I hit a complete brain-block. Things that should have taken me an afternoon took me weeks and there was no real reason why.

But finally –  with a lot of patience and support from family, friends and of course the Skipper – I got there, Today.

The goods - Part 1, chapter summaries, salespitch and sample pics
The goods – Part 1, chapter summaries, sales pitch and sample pics

Saying it was like printing my hopes and dreams out onto A4 and dropping them in a letter box is probably a little too melodramatic. It was more like ripping off a Band-Aid that has been there so long it has kind of fused into your skin. It hurt, but it was also enormously liberating. There is still more to write, but as I said before, that’s the easy part.

It’s out there now, for better or for worse, and if it isn’t what the publishers want then so be it. I’ve had enough interest that I am quite happy to have a crack at self-publishing, but the book-snob in me wants to try traditional route first.

So wish me luck!

So how’s the book going?

For those of you wondering why I haven’t blogged for about a million years, it’s because I am working on Which Way is Starboard Again? the book – based on this blog and the journal I kept while sailing.

For those of you wondering where the book is – that’s why I’m writing this blog.

I figured this whole book thing would be a doddle. I love writing, I’ve got the material – how hard could it be? Answer: Harder than you think grasshopper.

Since I didn’t know the first thing about getting a book in print (I’ve been published in newspapers, magazines and online, but never in anything with more than 50 pages) I decided to consult the experts. I discovered, through author advisory groups both in NZ and overseas, that when writing non-fiction your best bet is to write a chunk of the book then provide chapter summaries of the rest so publishers can let you know what they are interested in hearing more of.

Well the first part was easy. I wrote a chunk of the book – the first third to be precise. (I am breaking it up into three sections; the craziness of getting ready to go, the trip itself, and attempting to reintegrate into society once we got back – which was a lot harder than either of us had anticipated.) 20,000 words, just like that. Done and dusted. Now all I needed to do was shoot off a few chapter summaries and I would be ready to start harassing publishers.

It was round about then that I discovered writing chapter summaries is not actually that easy. Essentially, when you are doing this, you are outlining your entire book. Which means you have to have a pretty clear idea of where you book is going to go. It is also rather difficult to précis an entire chapter of experiences and feelings in a couple of pithy paragraphs designed to make a publisher want to read the whole thing.

Then I hit another snag – outlining the entire book meant I needed to know exactly where the book was going and which events led to which. I was thrown into a bit of a chronological dilemma – which came first, the chicken or the volcano? I honestly wasn’t sure. I wrote in my journal frequently but haphazardly. I wrote about things when I thought of them or when I had the chance, I scribbled them down in all sorts of strange places – but I was pretty rubbish when it came to dates and locations. I had the main geographical areas sorted, but often had no idea of the exact name of the reef passage we were going through when some event or other happened.

I was about ready to give up in frustration when I had a brain flash. Through the awesome Winlink radio-email system (run by an amazing bunch of volunteers) we had emailed home regularly and Paddy had been much better than I in terms of names and dates and locations. So all I had to do was sift through our inbox and outbox and problem solved!

Going back through those emails a bit of an emotional experience actually – like going through the whole trip all over again, even the bits that I had probably deliberately blotted out a little.

The emails home during the start of our trip from NZ to Tonga were the hardest to read, knowing damn well that Paddy’s “Anna was a bit scared last night” was a much kinder way of saying “Anna is losing her mind right now”. Yes I still managed to do all my night watches and yes I did get better and better – but there were times at the start when things got pretty dark. I fully suspect there were questions over whether I would actually make it through the entire Pacific trip, and I am proud to say that I did. It was also great to read the later emails, particularly when it was just Paddy and I sailing on our own. The fear gremlins were at bay and, while I wasn’t going to win any sailor of the year awards, I was definitely getting there.

The emails were great and helped kick things back in to gear again – I just had to put the jigsaw together. The problem being, this was a lot more like work and a lot less like fun. I had to really think about what I was doing and a single paragraph would take me half an hour. So I started making excuses – the last thing I felt like doing after work was sitting in front of a computer screen at home, I had a bazillion other things to do in the weekends, I needed to keep up with the housework, hey look – there’s a picture of a cat on facebook….

I had to force myself to sit down and write the damned summaries and the more I looked at them and at what I had written the more I convinced myself it was unpublishable tripe. Every time somebody asked “so how’s the book going?” I felt a pang of guilt and wrote a bit more, but it really was an uphill battle.

The thing is I’m stubborn and I am determined to get this done. I am going to write a book. When I think about it, that’s all I have ever wanted to do – ever since I was a geeky child with my nose permanently buried in one of the things. And thanks to the support of my friends, family and Paddy of course, I am back on track again.

I’m going to try the conventional way (they say you aren’t a real writer until you have had your first rejection letter from a publisher!) and if that doesn’t work I’ll look at self-publishing or print-on-demand, either way it is going to happen in some form or another. I’m sure I’ll hit a few more speedbumps along the way, but there WILL be a book dammit! I will keep you all posted and you are more than welcome to kick my arse if I start procrastinating again!

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Writing on tour
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Writing at home

PS – I have also discovered this great website called AdviceToWriters which I have been following on Twitter. It provides writerly wisdom and tips for people who are stuck and gives brilliant quotes from a range of really awesome authors. Whenever I feel like I am banging my head against a brick wall it always makes me smile. Here are some of my favourites:

The first draft of anything is always shit – ERNEST HEMINGWAY

Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.  – NEIL GAIMAN

Writing is like sex: You should do it, not talk about it.-  HOWARD OGDEN

Being a writer is like having homework every night for the rest of your life. – LAWRENCE KASDAN

The act of writing puts you in confrontation with yourself, which is why I think writers assiduously avoid writing.  – FRAN LEBOWITZ