Taking A Walk Down Memory Lane

Once I discovered romance I would spend hours reading and writing about it. I was, and in some respects still am, a bit of a loner. I like to spend my time with the people I love I'm not a great fan of crowded places and once people go passed the drunk but still fun point of drinking, I find them intolerable. So I'm probably not the best person to go out night clubbing with! Ha-ha!

So when its freezing outside, like it is today ... and when I feel completely burnt out by the whole process of NaNoWriMo ... Like I do today ... and when I've done all the updates to my website that I possibly can, like I have today .... and I can't possibly spend the whole weekend veg-ing in front of the TV, like I did last weekend ... What can I do?

Then it hit me -or rather I almost broke my toe on it- I can take a walk down memory lane!

No I'm not going crazy! I have a box under my desk that most of the time is a foot rest during the countless hours I spend writing away. Inside this box, is a whole compendium of stories written by my younger self over ten years ago.

So whilst I'm stuck for inspiration for either Divine Intervention or Bridgewater Falls, I'm going to read, possibly publish works of yester year. 

Erin

NaNoWriMo - Summary

"Throw all caution to the wind" they say. National Novel Writer's Month is about not having to worry about the technical processes that are required in novel writing.

This is the first time I've done NaNoWriMo and I've followed the advice handed out by the many people out there. I spent a month planning my novel Divine Intervention. In fact I spent so much time preparing and planning that I thought if I didn’t stop planning, my plans would become the story.

Yet once the time came, and I set my alarm for six a.m. Sunday 1st November 2009, found it incredibly difficult to write the novel. The first few thousand words just rolled off the mind and puff ... it was all gone and I suddenly felt this incredible pressure. I had to write 50,000 words in the next 30days.

Beyond my writing space my life was a little crazy anyway, I was about to start a temporary promotion at work and I knew that towards the end of the month there would be little time left to write.

I guess you could say I - like many other people - am afraid of failure. My refusal to fail at National Novel Writing Month has turned Divine Intervention into unspeakable mess, the voice of Gabrielle is bland, and her exciting life as a guardian angel is not so riveting. My secondary characters are flat and my hero, Kyle, he would cower in a corner crying "please don’t hit me" if you some much as raised your voice at him. ...

Mmm.... A lot of work to do I guess. (Ha-ha understatement!)

On reflection, where I haven't enjoyed the pressure of getting up at 5:30 writing for an hour before going to work, working sometimes almost 12 hours and then coming home to write some more ... I have learnt that I am not a planner when it comes to writing. Knowing my characters strengths and their flaws, knowing their mannerisms and their lives inside out at the beginning doesn’t work for me. My characters grow with the plot and it's their growth that shapes the narrative voice.

I have plans for Divine Intervention. I am caught between two choices of “for whom? And where?” for what I do with it when the novel is completed. I’ll be looking at this from a business prospective rather that a creative prospective and once the audience and market is decided, Gabrielle and Kyle’s story will begin again.



Erin

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R & R Corfu 2009

The Greek Island of Corfu (KerKrya) has to be one of my favourite holiday destinations. After a week in Sidari in June 2008, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to go again this October.

There's something about driving through Corfu that's relaxing, and it's certainly not the crazy Greek drivers or the mountainous roads that have almost vertical drops at the edge of the tarmac and no barriers.

As a non driver, I love being able to look down at the stunning views. The road winds it way through the green olive trees broken up only by the dotting of buildings as the mountain seems to reach down to touch the turquoise sea.

The resort of Sidari, I don't love as much as Playa del Carmen, Maya Riviera, Mexico (My #1 holiday destination). But there's something about Corfu, and Sidari, that makes me want to go back time and time again. It seems to be one strip of bars restuarants and gift shops, nestled with grocery shops supplying the locals with what they need. The beautiful thing about Sidari is that it is completely untouched by the necessities of the modern world. There are internet cafe's if you need them, there are cash machines and telephones if you need them, there's even a 1 hour laundrette and a photo shop if you need them, but there's a lack of McD's, Subway, Greggs, BK, Starbucks, etc that seems to have taken over the rest of the world. And it's this that gives Sidari that extra something special and visiting the north of Corfu has this tranquility about it that makes you instantly unwind. I slip into the relaxed pace and just start to love every moment of my holiday from start to finish.

Hotel Corfu Andromeda is amazing! It's the 2nd time I've visited this hotel and it was just as good the second time around if not better! The owner, Billy is friendly and fun, he never forgets a face and welcomed us with open arms like we were old friends. For self catering accommodation the rooms are spacious and we were provided with what we needed if we chose to eat inside our apartment. But the restaurant/bar on the complex had a great choice. We ate there for breakfast, before heading out for the mornings wandering (normally landing on either Sidari or Roda beach and ate lunch every day before enjoying the hottest part of the day around the super sparkling pool area at the andromeda. We ate dinner here 4 out of the 7 nights too. The 1st out of pure convenience and 3 because Billy's mama makes the most amazing greek food I have ever tasted. If I could have snuck her in my suitcase I'd have brought her home for the winter.

Kassioppi is a little fishing harbour and is absolutely beautiful. If you're interested in sight seeing you can walk among the ruins of Kassiopi Castle and the top ramparts offer an excellent view of the Albanian coastline.

We spent a lot of our time on Roda beach because it was nicer than Sidari beach. Corfu was badly hit by storms the week before we arrived and the sea around Sidari was murkier and there was more sea weed than there was on Roda beach. I'm cautious of not being able to see my feet in the sea and I hate the sinking feeling of sand. Normally I wouldn't go any deeper than my calves. But I was shoulder deep at one point and could still see the bottom.

Canal D'amour is just at the bottom of Sidari. Once your passed all the shops bars and restaurants and on the beach, there's a little path snuck within the hedges. The path leads to the cliffs and beautful rock formations from hundreds of years of sand stone layers and sea level changes. Most of my pictures were taken in Canal D'amour.

My writing took a back seat for a little while, and although I took my book with me I only looked at it once. I got inspiration for a poem called Warnings from Misty Mornings, but I was interrupted and never went back to it. I have my notes for it though and when the inspiration to rhyme again arrives I'm sure I'll finish it. The saddest part of any holiday is coming home, we sat on the balcony watching an amazing thunder and lightning storm roll in over the horizon and made plans to go back again next year.

Nine months to go and I can't wait!

Erin

It's All About Change

October throws me back into a time of collecting horse chestnuts for playing conkers, or throwing handfuls of sycamore seeds into the air and watching them spiral their way to the ground like little helicopters.

It’s that time of year again where we bundle up the summer blankets in favour of the thicker warmer quilts. We dig into the back of closets and pull out the winter wardrobe and we wake up the heating system from its lazy summer sleep.

It’s that time of year where the world around us begins to change day by day right before our very eyes. The skies are a hive of activity as the birds begin to gather and migrate. The deer begin the annual rutting season and the trees turn from a wash of green to a splattering of red, oranges and yellows as the temperature plummets from summer warmth to cold enough to see your breath.

It’s that time of year again where the country goes a little pink crazy in support of breast cancer awareness month and the kids are doubly spoiled not only enjoy their first holiday of the new school year but also kicking off the run up to the festive period with a little trick or a lot of treats.

Even the time changes and we gain an extra hour of precious sleep as the clocks go back to signal the end of British Summer Time. Yes, its that time of year again. It’s autumn.

For me, This October is all about change. The shortening of day light hours means I am no longer able to walk to and from work. The month starts with a change of pace from my usually hectic life with a week of R&R. I’ll also be trading in all of my additional duties at the nine to five and refocusing on my long term goals.

The biggest change for the writer in me is the move away from my current work in progress (The Bridgewater Falls Series) for the next couple of months. I have finished Life’s A Ball (Book 2) and aim to strengthen the story by taking a step back, focusing my attention elsewhere for a little while and then go back to see what problems lie beneath.

In the meantime, I will be focusing up on the National Novel Writers Month. I will be taking part in NaNoWriMo and challenging my self to write a 50,000 words (175 pages) novel within the 30 days of November. October is the chance for me to work out the plot and the characters of what is currently known as Mystic Mayhem.

You can keep up to date with my NaNoWriMo progress here.

Erin

More about Mystic Mayhem at erincawood.co.uk.

A Stifled Imagination

I’m going to intrigue you with a little human psychology for a moment.

If you believe the Social Learning Theorists such as Albert Bandura, which to some extent I do, then our behaviour is shaped by our parents, our siblings, and family friends from what we observe them doing and how we imitate them. Throw into this mix television, movies and story books that fuel our imagination and we have a world were our best friends are magical creatures, we live in tree top houses and we can go anywhere in the universe in just a blink of an eye.

As young children we have no real concept of acceptable behaviour or social norms and it is this freedom that allows us to walk down the street talking and singing with imaginary friends, to climb trees like they’re the gateway to hidden fortresses and to run through corn fields as we’re being chased by fire breathing dragons.

As we grow older, from childhood into adolescence, we naturally become aware of how we look, how we behave, how what we do or say may be seen by those around us. We fear being ridiculed. Our self-image becomes an important part of our lives and the creative freedom is suffocated by the “real world” left only to be slotted into the socially acceptable folder of “Weird Ideas”

What once was an everyday activity becomes unimaginable, filed away into a part of the mind labelled “things I must not do”. It is pushed so deep down inside that the magical worlds are forgotten left only to those who entertain us through movies, books, and television shows. Our imagination is filled with dreams and desires of unattainable real world events such as winning the lottery.

For those who do not live their lives with the need to be creative, this may not be a problem. For me, not knowing my future would lie in writing, allowing my imagination to be suppressed by the real world is something I may live to regret.

I wish I was twenty years younger. What kind of fantasy story could be created by the imagination of a seven year old? To step back even ten years when the world of a grown up was still so shiny and new, when I knew nothing about the term hard work, money grew on trees and falling in love was the simple beginning of happily ever after.

Of course, having life experience has its benefits. I know about alcohol, hardship, and office politics. I have learnt about grief, life conflicts, and the meaning of true intimacy. But going back into my childhood imagination, could you imagine my fantasy story created by the imagination of a seven year old with the life experience to write something so outrageously plausible? Or stepping back in time to the beginning of happily ever after, I could use my innocent frame of mind to create a character that does what he or she wanted to do and not what is expected of them. A life not tainted by the real world and it's social norms.

My mission today, and every day, when I sit down to write is to escape the restrictions of the real world and to give my characters a life free from the expectations of what is social acceptability. After all, even Shakespeare wrote about fairies and magic.

You Won't See Me Cry

You Won't See Me Cry is a difficult one to explain. I was looking through my romantic peotry one day in August and realised that I've never written a poem from the point of view of relationship break up.

I challenged my high level of empathy to the test and attempted to write something I've never had personal experience of before.

To write this I tried to get into the head of my character from my current work in progress Life's A Ball. Elle doesnt believe in true love. She doesn't believe that she ever find someone she loves enough to risk letting them break her heart. So the first paragraph is about her sceptism of Love. "Trust me, you say, and I'll hold your hand" Is the opening line and it creates the same sense of mistrust. It is followed by three further lines that have the same connotation. I followed the same theme of sceptism into the second verse, although she is taking the chance, she is wary of it. The third paragraph I opened with no mistrust or sceptism at all. It is as though the character has actually fallen in love.

It isn't untill the end of the third verse that we learn all is not well. "Maybe I should know its a matter of time" In the fourth stanza we learn that things have gone wrong. We also learn the the character blames herself for trusting her lover in the first place. We are drawn into her pain and can imagine the door closing as he leaves and Elle falling into a blubbering heap on the floor, even she acknowledges that it will happen. But Elle is a strong character, she is the proverbial brick wall and she is determined to remain strong in front of her love and she says in the closing line of the poem "No matter how much this hurts me, you won't see me cry"

Erin

Read my poetry at ericawood.co.uk

A Poem For You

I wrote Bye Bye Bibby Bye Bye and posted it on Facebook for a friend. One of my family members said that I never wrote poems for them and A Poem For You was something that rolled around my subconscious for around two weeks.

Erin

Read the poem A Poem For You and more Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

As Busy As a Bee

I have not stopped!

Since my last blog post life has gone a little bit crazy. Family life went crazy, work went crazy, and me ... I think I might have gone a little bit crazy too! For no other reason that amongst all of the madness my writing has been so what abandoned. :- (

I have no new poetry this month, its a big fat zero compare to the three or four a month that I have posted in the June and July. I have no new short fiction to post, and my novel ... well ... don't get me started on that! again :- ( I have being trying to give it the attention that it needs, but there isn't much I can do with it at the moment. I'm awaiting editorial feedback and until then I can not complete my final draft. My mind was focused on the synopsis accompanying any submission I send to agents and publishers, until I discovered that my novel is actually twice as long as it needs to be.

The feedback I have received from test readers have all said the story flows well, the characters are engaging, the plot is gripping, and the pace is just right where it needs to be. And the criticisms I have received have been well judged. I have made several improvements to my novel on the back of them. However, there is the small matter of an ideal word limit. To the people who have read my book, not a problem, not one of them has said its too long. To an agent or a publisher…? No matter how fantastic my writing is, the submission is unlikely to make its way off the slush pile. :- (

I'm hoping that I can focus more on the writing throughout August, I want to have extracts of all my works in progress on line for your enjoyment, and I'm also redesigning the website to drive more traffic this way. Links will change, pages will change, content will change. Remember to keep coming back for more!

Erin

Bye Bye Bibby Bye Bye

Bye Bye Bibby Bye Bye was written for a friend of mine who I worked with. She left the office to go on to pastures new and this poem was something I came up with the following day.

Erin

Read the poem Bye Bye Bibby Bye Bye and more Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

The Glass is Half Empty?

I am generally a bright and breezy kind of girl. I am generally a glass half full rather that half empty kind of girl and I think that this is a general theme within the poetry that I write. Upbeat and positive, and seeing the good in everything. However, June has been a definite glass half empty kind of month. Poetry is the best form of an emotional release for me and this pessimism has into been translated into the two poems I have written this month.

There is nothing bright and bubbly about the lack of sleep and Insomnia is about being physically exhausted and being so tired that your body aches, the phrase “I could sleep for a week” comes to mind. But your mind won’t stop running over insignificant little matters, it won’t stop rushing long enough for you to fall asleep, and every time you open your eyes it starts again. Yep, this happened to me in the second week of June and by the third week I was feeling very sorry for myself. People were asking if I was all right and I didn’t have the energy to smile, hence begin fed up of the disguise, bright smile and sparkly eyes.

There’s a definite half empty feel to The Unknown Ending. The last week of June has seen an event happen in my life that could have upset the balance of my world. It’s still too raw to explain. But luckily, everything remains on an even keel and I have found a little more optimism in the situation.

I have published a third poem this month. Written eighteen months ago for two of my friends who had passed away. Both had life threatening conditions, both passed away within days in of each other, Life’s Longest Mile keeps in with this half empty theme for July.

In contradiction of the half empty theme, I have been working on marketing my website. I have built this site in September 2008 and I have been maintaining the changes since then. At the bottom of the home page there are two new icons. A hits counter and a web statistics tag. Over the coming months I will be updating the site, making both noticeable and hidden changes that should increase the sites popularity and search engine visibility. I have created Squidoo account for me to create lenses about writing from my point of view and a blog to report on my marketing efforts. I have also posted an Interview on whohub. Read the Interview with Erin Cawood here.

Insomnia

In the middle of June, I experienced an awful period of not being able to sleep properly. My mind would not shut off and by the time I wrote Insomnia I was physically exhausted. I don't know how people who suffer with insomnia manage, I was actually sleeping. Not properly granted, but not at all? I'd have gone insane.

I was inspired by the fact my body ached

The poem is a bit like a prayer. "Dear Lord, I am so tired." In the beginning there is a frustration about need to relax because the body is tired, and not being able to. This is mixed with the want to carrying and keep going because the mind is still active. This causes a confused stated of mind. The poem goes into with the physical restrictions of the exhaustion. "My arms and legs they ache" and into time and the number of hours sleep "My nights are getting shorter" and I want to address the effect that not sleeping has on your emotions. "I'm so fed up of this disguise" Stanza 1 to 4 repeat the first line of the verse as the last line. But the last Stanza begins "I want a life of zing and zest" and ends "For sleep is my only quest" clarifying that this has been the problem all along.

Erin

Read my poetry at erincawood.co.uk

An Interview with Erin Cawood

I've filled in an interview at whohub

have a read here

www.whohub.com/erincawood

Spooky

Going back to my inability to actually put something into the post box. (The Wicked Witch) This time I actually managed to do it. I wrote a poem as a thank you to my best friend. She reads all of my novel extracts and she tells me if things don't work. She listens to my problems. If she didn't live so far away she'd probably tell my if I looked like crap too!

Spooky is my SATC type of girlfriend.

What I mean by that is I connect with Spooky, and I always have. She knows me just as well as I know yourself. I tell her anything, and everything, and it doesn't matter if I don't speak to her for a week a month or a year (or even 7 years in our case). All it takes is for one email, or a text message, or a telephone call and it's as though I spoken to her just last night.

When I wrote Spooky I just thought about want I wanted to say to her, bought a birthday card with a simple "Happy Birthday" and wrote the poem in the card.

Erin

Read the poem Spooky and more Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

Bring on the Next Chapter

The Idea for my first noval came to me almost four years ago, after many false starts and periods of the dreaded writers block I finally sat down to write it in January 2008. Since then I've been a rubbish girlfriend, a rubbish daughter, a rubbish sister, a terrible aunty, and a pretty rubbish friend.

The life of a novalist is very isolated and incredibly lonely at times. I have ofter sat down and wondered how the published authors do it. I have been so submerged in these lives that I have created, getting lost in the story line for hours, days, even weeks on end, that I have had to make myself go to bed a 3.30 in the morning because its either that or go downstairs, make a cup of tea, and go right back to it and get lost again till sunrise because despite having been at my computer since 9am. .. I'm not tired. I even chose to spend my birthday alone in my office writing (although I went to my sisters for sunday lunch)

I guess the point to my sentimental rambling, is that it has been 16 months, and my first draft is done.

Bring on the next chapter ...

Erin

The Wicked Witch

As far as putting things into a post box go, I am rubbish at it. Remembering what day it is, and when it is not a problem for me. I'll by a card, I'll write in it, I'll even address and put a stamp on it. But actually posting it? I seem to have a missing particle in my DNA, because I never remember to do it.

No one in my family expects a card from me.

So when mother's day came around this year, I got up especially early for a sunday to wish my mum a happy mother's day. For me, poetry is a beautiful way of saying something to someone you love, so I wanted to write my mum a poem. I spent days thinking about my earliest memories of my mum. Actually thinking about the first physical presence I remembered, where I can see her in my minds eye, and whats she was doing. Then I started thinking about the memories that really stuck out for me. The ones that made me smile, or cringe.

The first half of the poem expresses the view that as children we don't consider what our mums do for us. We have a "me, me, me" prospective and mums are there to stifle us, use us as an excuse when they screw up, stop us for doing what we want, and embarass us. A form of parental torture worthy of the title The Wicked Witch. The second half of the poem is from an adult perspective. It's about how much I appreciate my mum, that I think she did a good job, and that I don't bare any grudges for what she has done to me as a child. The last paragraph is acknowledging that she isn't perfect, but thanking her for being my mum.

Erin

Read The Wicked Witch and other Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

Fighting A Losing Battle

For those of you who are just discovering my blogs, I am working on my 1st novel - "Life's A Ball?" that follows the loves the live's and the losses of five women. Within the first few pages of the novel my main protagonist recieves a Valentine's Card from "?" With a beautifully hand written poem.

This poem causes havoc in a later chapter.

To make the scene more believeable and to explain why two incredibly close friends would be fighting over a poem, I had to actually write the poem and form the point of view of the character who was writing it, but without giving away who had actually written it.

The poem is about wanting the person that you have fallen in love with to notice you. The first stanza starts with simple things like wanting that person to talk to you, then I developed the wanting a little deeper more in the 2nd verse to include thinking about you. In verse 3 I added a little desire, and a bit of stalkerish desperation. I wanted a last stanza that would make the characters in the scene (they're all women) touch their chests and heave a love struck sigh . So a added a touch of helplessness that explained the poem before it. Something that told the reader that the sender was Fighting A Losing Battle.

Erin

Read the poem Fighting A Losing Battleand more Poems written by Erin Cawood at erincawood.co.uk.

The things I say ...

On the colour PURPLE ....
"Life is very unpredictable ... there are very few consistancies within it ... however, me and my love of all things purple will last forever"

Thursday 12th March 2009 - Facebook

On having a bad day ....
"Ever had one of those days ... where the thought of becoming Godzilla's dental hygenist is more appealing than ever stepping back in to the office?... Well ... After the day I've had I'd rather be Godzilla's tooth pick !"

Friday 6th March 2009- Facebook Notes

On her horoscopes ....

"Changes are a foot ... well anyone who's seen the amount of shoes in my drawers at work could tell you that! theres erm ... a red pair, a white pair, a black pair, a purple pair. But if I'm going into new areas of my life then I guess I should buy a new pair!

mmm.... My stars told me to buy a new pair of shoes... I like it!"

Friday 6th March 2009 - Facebook notes

Erin

Grandma

I think I was incredibly lucky to be as old as 16 the first time that I experienced the death of a close family member. As the youngest of 5, I know that it could have quite easily been a situation where I was too young to even remember my Grandma but its hard to accept death when you're old enough to understand what it means...

The end of someone's life

The first time you learn that someone close to you has passed away, and you actually understand the above line its incredibly difficult to accept, grieving for the loss of that person is the only way to allow life to move on and different people grieve in different ways.

When my grandmother passed away, my family all got together and we sat around my mum's house talking, crying, trying to get our heads around it. I went back to work the following day because I couldn't cope with it and I just wanted to get my mind off the fact that my grandma was gone.

This difficult period for me was a time for me to decide my opinion on life, death, and the after life. For me, what makes a person is what is inside their heart. Not their phsyical being, but their soul. This is something death can not take away.

The poem Grandma came about whilst I was assessing my opinion on death. It helped me come up with my conclusions. It helped me grieve for the loss of my grandmother and to this day, almost 11 years later, I still find comfort in this poem.

Erin

Read Grandma and other Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

Life's Longest Mile

In September 2007, two of my friends passed away. Both had life threatening conditions and to loose one of them was a bitter blow and myself and my work colleagues were still reeling from the shock when we learnt that the other friend has also passed away. Again, it was the first time I'd experienced death in this way. The first friend to pass away was the only a few years older than me, and the second a couple of years younger.

I've always had my partner, who was a pillar of strength through this, and my family to hold my hand through the grieving process. But this time I didn't feel like they understood. Life's Longest Mile is my tribute to them.

Erin

Read the poem Life's Longest Mile and more Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

The Crush

I work at in the Fleet Dept, of an insurance company and for Valentine's Day 2009 we had a competition. The prize was a £20 for pretty much anywhere. The taks was to do something romantic that would capture the managers heart. I wanted my entry to be a poem, but I wasn't really feeling all that inspired. Then on the last day for entries I woke up with a little rhyme in my head and within 45 minutes I'd composed the whole poem.

Do you remember the first time the last time you fell in love?

Somehow I tapped into that feeling when you starting falling for the person who makes your world turn. The Crush is about that one person who makes your stomach flip with just the smallest of actions. You try ignore it. You try to hide it. You try to deny it. When its obvious to everyone that you fancy the pants off that person.

Unfortunatly, I didn't win the competition. I lost out to heart shaped strawberry cheesecakes.

Erin

Read The Crush and other Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.

Seasons of Love

In the summer of 2000, before my partner and I moved to Leeds, I was studying an AS Level in English Language. My coursework for the class was based around creative writing. I'd already used up 95% of my word allowance on The Basement, when my tutor told me that I needed to submit 2 pieces of creative writing, and that I had all of 2 days to complete a 2ND piece. Argh!

Luckily, I had written a poem for my partner.

Seasons of Love is about being in love is about being in love no matter what the whether is. I started the poem with winter, because the poem was originally written January or February time. It develops in to spring and all the things that we associate with spring and as it rolls into summer the things we would associate with the season, and so on through autumn and winter, Christmas in particular. I repeated the first stanza as the last stanza to give the impression that true love will continue beyond just the one year.

Seasons of Love is still the favourite poem that I have written

Erin

Read the poem Seasons of Love and more Poems written by Erin Cawood at www.erincawood.co.uk.