Where to lay the blame...Part 1

'Well hello stranger.'
'Oh, hi.'
'Fancy seeing you back here!'
'Erm, yes...'  Feelings of awkwardness expressed on the face.  Perhaps by fiddling with the hair etc...

All of the above is not just me talking to me.  It is life.  Moments like them happen every day.  For me, to be doing this today, I am experiencing a plethora of emotions.  Anxiety being one because there is so much to do today, such as the lawn to mow because the past few days have been dry and the clouds are gathering. Relief is another, because I am going through another decision making disorder; where to start the new novel.  All that aside, and referring back to the start of this post...if nothing is ever said to someone you haven't seen in a long time, and it is their fault, then why greet them at all?  If it matters, vocalise it.  Make it noticeable immediately in some way, otherwise the emotion will be absent.  It makes an impact.  Writing needs it.  Life needs it.

See above again.  Let us ditch the exclamation mark.  Whilst they're very useful, in my ever such humble opinion, so many writers saturate their writing with them. Children are allowed, but as adults...nope, just as there is no excuse for writing 'a lot' as 'alot', and 'thank you, as 'thankyou'.  Oops, grammar is not what this post is about.  Sorry. Moving on quickly...

I've never really thought about it but the word 'fancy' in the sentence means the speaker missed you...surely?

Was the last time I blogged really that long ago?  Doesn't time fly.  I love cliches but do try to avoid their usage by the narrators in my novels and short stories. However, out of the mouths of the characters it is a totally different kettle of fish.

So, where to lay the blame for my non activity on here?  Where do I start?  Hmm, first of all my trip to India actually, and finally happened.  It had been on the cards for years.  See below.  Yes, I took that picture!

Last November, 2014, the month when I try and join the millions on NaNoWriMo, I accompanied my mother and sister and went back to the country of my birth.  It was the first time since coming over to the UK in the 1960s, (a very, very, long time ago).  It's all right I still got a good few years left in me.  At least here's hoping because I've a lot of novels still to write.


I had been petrified of going back.  Everyone born over there, that I know of, have gone back many times,  When I popped into the mobile telephone shop prior to my trip abroad, (to sort out my mobile - obviously, otherwise what else would it be for), I told them about what special event was about to happen in my life, one of the ladies was very concerned.  She asked, if possible, would I pop in upon getting back to England, (beautiful Cheshire - my home), to let her know that I had done so, ie, got back safe.  I did try to do that, several times, but either she was on a different shift, hiding in the back of the shop (hope not), or was working in another branch. Because I had forgotten her name, I couldn't even leave a/the message.  I'm a writer, I should have invented something...maybe a note, or described her to the other members of staff and left a verbal message.  Never mind.  I managed to speak with her in January.  The shop was very busy.  She looked happy.  Asked if I'd pop in when they had fewer people in there.  I've not had time.  Two miles is quite a distance after all when you love your planet and believe in keeping pollution down to a minimum.

We went to the Punjab.  Jullundar.  In the North of India.  The part I was dreading the most, meeting the relatives because they were all strangers to me now, (or relative strangers), turned out to be the easiest and the best week out of the two we went for.  The second week we spent in Jaipur and Delhi, with one day spent in going to see the Taj Mahal in Agra.  India is vast and the hours spent in travelling, either by car or train, were considerable.  The monument was beautiful.  My mother had been previously and said that it looked dirtier. Shame.  It was worth a visit not just for the fact that it is of historical value, but it seriously appealed to the writer in me.

The pollution, the dirt etc, in the areas we visited in India were something difficult to accept.  Even for that amount of (short) time when we had been warned to expect it.  The hotel was great. Clean. Spacious.  The staff lovely and friendly. The food in India, very tasty.  The weather, a little on the hot side, but nothing unbearable. I had a  hand fan with me and used it enthusiastically.  Whenever in anyone's house and I was 'flapping it'', they immediately offered to put on their electric ceiling fans.  If we hadn't accepted it would have seemed like my hand was being used because I was trying to stay awake or some such other reason, equally rude to them.

The beggars that approached us weren't as overwhelming as we thought. The roadside tea-wallah's served/sold the most delicious char I've ever had in my life. The cups were tiny, the bubbles on the surface are indicative of how recently it had been made and poured. The sugar is normally over the top, but we asked for it to be reduced.  Taste explosion...wow factor :)

The food was always reasonably priced.  Whilst I didn't approve of visiting a very famous American fast food chain whilst there, (I'm not naming and therefore give them free advertising but reckon it would only take two guesses as to who), it was useful when needing a toilet break.  They were cheeky though, not only were service tax etc added to the bill, but they also rounded the amount we had to pay, up, so you did not get change.  A message to the fat cats who own that business:  Unless that extra money is going to the staff, stop it guys!  In fact, it detracted to my appreciation of the food, even with the addition of the spices.

When we got back to Gatwick Airport, after an eventful flight home which I will blog about some time, it was with gratitude.  The deli beli was still in full flow (a way to lose weight), and in addition my sister and I had sore throats, jet lag and a general malaise  that lasted months after the two weeks were over.

So far as my writing anything, which can be difficult on days when 'will power' has gone out, but when feeling physically run down, and the enthusiasm hasn't been unloaded with the rest of your luggage at the airport, what do you do?  Ask everyone to nag. When I pretend I'm in the writing zone, the mood is definitely in a 'zone' but not one where words are tapped on the keyboard.

I join my palms and offer up thanks for deadlines.  Not all writers need them, but this one definitely does.  With my sister's gentle nagging, I wrote again a short piece and sent it off to Indian Short Fiction magazine.  The buzz when ISF accepted and the story became live, helped so much towards the kick start I needed, that I actually returned to editing a novel I'd put aside months previously.  Footsteps to Galatea is waiting impatiently in the 'proof reading' pile.  The book's cover is ready in ebook format.  Once it is completely done and formatting completed, the number of pages will be known and a paperback cover will be requested.  All of my labours/works are in electronic format, and this year I really must get them sorted into paperback.  For that I will probably use Amazon's Createspace.

Part 2 of this post will be next week...

'Yeah right!  Oh look, pigs are flying!'