D is for DONE!

• Are we done here?
• I’m done!
• I’m so done with you.
• Are you done yet?

DONE is a word used by toddlers and grownups alike. By writers? Not so much. For a writer to say, ‘I’m done!’ is as likely as putting your hands behind your back and blowing the waves back into the ocean.

Elizabeth Gilbert advice budding authors that ,’done is better than perfect.’ Leonardo da Vinci didn’t wait until he was done with a project before starting a new one.

Done and perfect are impossible standards to live by. Artists and writers work in the grey zones, Everyone has a different measures of done-ness. There is no golden standard. Personally when I say I’m done with something, I don’t mean that it is done, but that I feel that it’s done.

Are you improving your work, or needlessly tinkering with it? Are you giving up too soon, or should you keep going? How do you know? It took me a while to learn this, but there is a huge difference between stopping out of laziness and feeling fed up (I’m so done here!), and stepping away because there is nothing more to ad.

I can only speak for myself, but when starting a new chapter I feel like I’m mud wrestling with a feral cat. I can’t get a grip, my vision is blocked, and I keep falling down. Stopping mid-fight would be stupid. There is nothing done about it; not even close. As I keep writing – clawing at one word at a time –  I begin to get some traction. Now we’re getting somewhere! I know from experience that if I stop now, I’ll loose my momentum. And that’s how I know I’ve entered my hibernation stage. I live, breathe, and sleep words. Then one day, out of the blue, it starts fading away. The perfectionist in me wants to rip it apart again, start anew, and have a go at it one more time, but it’s futile. I can feel it in my bones, in the darkest chambers of my marrow, that for now, at this point in time, I’m done.

And so I move on to the next chapter, and the whole process repeats itself, again, again, and again. So no. I’m never done done. I’m just less unfinished.

Getting things done

Have you noticed that if you experience progress and accomplishment in one area of your life, it bleeds into other arenas as well? If misery loves company, happiness and achievement is down right contagious.

For instance, now that I finally feel I’m getting somewhere with the writing, I seem to have developed Duracell-like energy for all the other stuff that screams for my attention as well. Normally I tell them all to shut up and stop bugging me, (Leave me alone and let me write!) but now I approach everything in the efficient, yet friendly, spirit of Marry Poppins.

1. Father in law’s probate papers? Done.
2. Accounting for the drone filming company that I co-founded with my husband? Done.
3. Rowing everyday? You bet.
4. Reading more? Absolutely.
5. Finding a poem to read for the upcoming family gathering? Got it!
6. Preparing for the road trip around Europe? Finally happening:)

In this state of mind I’m also acutely aware of my friends’ success and prosperity. Hurrah for my friend who singed up for Martha Beck’s Life Coach training. A big round of applause for Zee and her amazing book launch. I’m so thrilled to see how Karen’s blog has totally taken of. I love that Susan is writing poetry, that Sally finds new authors for her interview series every single week, that Tale is learning French….What amazing stuff will these people come up with next?

Maybe the Buddha was on to something when he said that life is not a window, it’s a mirror. All I know is that when I felt stuck and sluggish, I was drawn to other slugs as well. People who did well annoyed me. Nothing felt right. My hair was listless. Then one day I decided to snap out of it, get going, and ..you know the rest. Also, I had a vivid dream of my deceased mother in law. In the dream she gave me very clear and direct writing advice (she used to be a writer and a journalist). That helped.

The week is almost over and I’m looking forward to a delightful evening of good food, watching the sunset, reading, and maybe watch a movie later on. It depends on when husband gets home. He’s out filming with his drone.

See you all later, and thanks for stopping by:)

One cremation and a wedding

For some reason it feels very English to have one cremation and one wedding to go to-back to back. Tomorrow is the cremation, Friday is the memorial, and on the following Friday there is a big family wedding. I’m just glad it’s not the other way around.

The death of a writer

My mother in law died last Friday. She was a political journalist, an author, a spin doctor, and an enthusiastic and determined force of nature. Her life stretches back in time to Darjeeling where her mother was born to a violinist playing for the British diplomatic delegation, through war ridden Europe, weaving in and out of death, victory, prosperity, tragedy, loss, triumph-and decades of hard work culminating in a glittering career that was awarded with an M.B.E. by H.M Queen Elizabeth II.

  

378 days later – Vagabonds

Oh god, I’m so sick of the whole Nazi author debate. He’s a Novel Prize laureate, he’s the writer that thought Ernest Hemingway how to write, he said brilliant things like, ‘No worse fate can befall a young man or woman than becoming prematurely entrenched in prudence and negation,’ and wrote some of the finest books ever written. And he had to go off and like Hitler. Argh.

Day 354- Perfect Match

I like attention as long as I’m not the center of it. At parties I appreciate it if you bring me a drink and talk to me, but I’m not going to stride into the room in a bright red dress and toss my mane around. Being Royal must suck. Maybe not 100 years ago, but media has turned these people into circus animals. So no, you can have the prince, be my guest, I just want to keep writing.

Day 248- Writer’s block

I’m on chapter 11 of my book. When I have written chapter 12 it will be finished. I will have to edit, rewrite, shuffle and clean it up, but the entire manuscript will be done done. So naturally I have stopped writing. 

Day Nine -This is a story about friendship, misunderstandings and faith

This is a story about friendship, coincidences, misunderstandings and faith.

When we first meet Brian is is in the background, a shadow figure. He is married to a woman who within an exceptionally short period of time goes from being my acquaintance, friend, soul-mate, to finally the top-position as Fairy Godmother. I am 23 and foolish, Fairy Godmother is ageless and infinitely wise and kind.

Day Four-Monday is now a swear-word

Hold the boat!

I was prepared to stick with my day-job for another year or so, just so have more time to prepare, but then it occurred to me: What will have changed in 12 months time? I would have saved up a bit more money, but that was about it. Pair that up with a husband who is so sick of his job that Monday is now a swear word, and you have yourself a situation that can only be described as urgent.