Thursday, November 22, 2007

Trago Mystery

Overheard in Falmouth.

Man 1: I reckon it's a conspiracy you know.

Man 2: What do you reckon Trago* planned it?

Man 1: Yeah it had to be them.

* There's no real easy way to explain the dubious pleasure that is Trago Mills, unless you've lost the plot/way/door out whilst there. The phrase "Just need to pop to Trago" is not only beautifully oxymoronic, it is also second only to the internet as a means of procrastination for writers living in Cornwall.

Is there a whole novel in the great Trago conspiracy? What did they plan? I think I'll just 'pop over' there to see if I can solve the mystery...

[The lovely beyceyar normally reports these snapshots, but he seems more troubled by windmills at the moment.]

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Split personality?

I fully admit that in the same day I might read Dickens, then Heat - and enjoy both.

I watch EastEnders and Hollyoaks and hate that people denigrate popular culture as 'opiates for the masses'. Who are we to judge? I'm equally happy going for a walk by the sea or out in the country. Entertainment is what we make it.

I've no shame in admitting that I'm a consumer of culture: popular, unpopular, past, present and future.

But. At times I do wonder if the two sides of me might be a little in conflict.

I went out today with my wicker shopping trolley. Full granny stylee, I love it and, (although it sounds like ten skateboards hurtling down the road) it saves both my arms and the need for plastic bags.

So, off I trundle, to buy wholesome, local, organic veg and bread from the Farmers Market. Feeling even more green and wholesome, I gave Mrs Veg Lady a load of plastic bags and Mr Egg Man a load of egg boxes. Recycling to boot - I trundled away feeling positivley virtuous.

I trundled away into Tesco where there was an 'uber-deal' on Quality Street. As I headed for the queue with my super cheap tin, some kind of reality check hit in.

The contrast between my wicker trolley full of conscience clear, real food was too much of a contrast. I stood there with the lurid Nestle tin of chocolate - and not just any chocolate, this is the 'buy now for Christmas which is so far away kids can't open advent calendars but we wan't you to panic buy, so you will spend even more when it really nearly is Christmas' kind. I looked around me and the shop was chaos - full aisles, no chance of getting near a till. Funnily enough, most people had the super cheap chocolate in their baskets.

I put the tin back.

On the way out, the store detective followed me, trying to get a look in my trolley.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Then I woke up.

I had a stream of very 'cozy' dreams last night, the sort that leave you feeling like you have been swimming in one of those little chocolate Gu puddings when you wake up.

When I woke up it was Monday morning, which is OK for us freelancers, but not for those who have to go to work 'out there'. Mr A. had to go to work 'out there' and was (I think) a bit upset that I wouldn't tell him what all my lovely dreams were about.

I couldn't really tell him, because in one part I know I was kissing strange boys and I knew that would upset him. Does kissing in dreams count as being unfaithful? I can't see how it does, especially if they are people that you don't know.

That wasn't all of the dream though.

One part did involve eating lots of chocolate.

In another part a producer asked me how much I would like for my script. So I answered, 'A house please'. The nice producer man agreed and gave me enough money for a very large house. After I dropped Oz at school* I walked past lots of big houses, and really thought that I might just be able to go and buy one today.

Hoping that this part might be a premonition, I also bought a lottery ticket this morning*. (Well, you never know..) It did take far less time than the re-write that I know my script needs.

Another part of the dream was being part of a group of friends who just seemed to go form party to party. Not the kind of big silly parties that always leave you wishing you could just go home and drink tea. No, these were small parties full of good people, choclolate, film producers who liked my script and some boys who were nice to kiss.

Then I woke up.

* These things really happened, as in were not part of the dream. The rest of the things I'm hoping will happen. Well obviously not the kissing strange boys bit. Although it would be good to figure out how to kiss for real and make it feel like one of those kisses that you have in a dream.

Happy Un-Birthday and beyond...

I realised that this blog is over a year old now...Despite serious neglect in recent months (I blame Facebook...) it was never through lack of love.

Life was so very different this time last year. I was dipping my toe in, testing the waters, and now I'm out here full time in the wide ocean that is freelance writing.

It's a beautiful place to be though. No regrets. None.

A few weeks ago I did a 'tour' of the country to catch up with old friends from various incarnations of my previous lives (kind of feels a bit like that when I add together all the pieces that have gone to make the adventure so far). One thing that was really heartwarming is that evryone reminded me that my dream, for years and years, was always to be a writer. No one was surprised, everyone reminded me that it was what I'd always said I would do.

And so here I am.

The script needs a re-write. But - it is a complete script, and I'm hoping can only get better. I'm working on a book commission. I can see the sea, boats and Cornish coast from the window where I write.

Take a dream, and double it. Dreams can come true.