Month: September 2012

Taxi!

It’s a week after my PIP fusion – the middle joint of my index finger – and I’m pleased to report none of my fears have been realised.

I did not cause a major national shortage of taxis or a traffic jam/ cab situation in Dorset in the first seventy hours as I wandered around with my arm raised and finger pointing heavenwards.

I have not completed an electrical circuit. Anywhere.

I have not been struck by lightning.

I have not poked out anyone’s eye.

My son thinks I’m part robot.

It’s going well.

More soon.

Laura x

Things I’ve No Wish To Recall.

Things I’ve No Wish To Recall.

 

I’m remembering things I’ve no wish to recall

Wondering if time does away with it all

Thinking I’ll sink with the weight of the haul

Willingly, I would go down.

 

The surfacing memories bring high tides of tears

I’m floundering around in an ocean of fear

Frightened, I’m killing the retrograde years

Submerging them until they drown.

 

I feed to the depths the thoughts making me cry

Hunting, they’re sharks; they’re silent and sly

Circling, then striking, they eat my insides

Inflicting unbearable pain

 

Recollections are triggered by words, songs or place

The sound of a laugh, a familiar phrase

A programme we watched and then we erased

All gone, and nothing remains.

 

It hurts to acknowledge the guilt and regret

But there were times in our lives I’ll never forget

The love and the laughter will heal my soul

I’m glad I’m remembering the things I recall.

 

Laura E. James

11.09.12

Hands Up.

This is my right hand.

My writing hand.

This photo was taken two years ago. Assuming you’re not squeamish, you can click on the picture and open a larger view of it.

I have had rheumatoid arthritis since I was eighteen. It has attacked a number of joints and tendons which have subsequently been replaced, repaired, reinforced or fused. There are a number of joints yet to receive the Bionic Man treatment. Ahh. Lee Majors. I haven’t reached those dizzy heights yet.

This is from last year, when I had my left thumb fused in the summer, and then revised a few months later. It passed the test.

I’m finding it tricky to locate photos that aren’t too gruesome. I am fascinated with surgery and take a keen interest in the rehabilitation that follows. I have plenty of shots of scars and swellings and bloodied bandages which, one day, may serve a purpose. There is a chance I may use the information in a book. During the thumb fusion, my surgeon allowed me to watch for a short time. It was amazing.

I’m looking at the photo to the right now. I remember having my ring finger knuckle replaced, but for the life of me, have NO recollection as to why my index finger was trussed up. A synovectomy, maybe? I can see a child’s drink bottle in the background, so it was a few years ago.

Ah. Left wrist plated and partially fused. I got quite cross with that. I was desperate to get the cast off.

Anyway, enough fond trips down memory lane. You get my drift.

That’s what my fingers do. They drift. It’s part of the disease, but whilst the rheumatoid cannot be halted, with the use of today’s wonderful technology, the brilliant surgeons and medical staff can rebuild parts of me. One piece at a time.

I so relate to that song.

During my last operation, I spoke to the theatre staff about my goal to become a published author and how grateful I was to them for taking such good care of my hands – my work tools. I recall agreeing to acknowledge their work in my first published book. One day, ladies and gentlemen. One day. For the time being, I truly thank you for preserving my sanity.

My next surgery is this Thursday. My right index finger is to be straightened and fused. That’s about a week in a small back slab and five in a lightweight splint. That equates to a month and a half not typing, tweeting, facebooking or blogging. Unless I use my left hand. Which of course, I will. Be prepared for some really weird words. I am not ambidextrous.

As an aside to this, I think the Paralympians are outstanding. What they achieve is beyond superhuman and I have been humbled by what they must go through every day.

This? This is nothing.

Take care and see you the other side.

Laura x

 

 

To Submit or not to Submit?

To submit or not submit? That is the question I asked myself thirty times.

I am a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme. It is a fantastic organisation which offers friendship, advice, the chance to meet other writers, agents and publishers and once a year, have one’s manuscript critiqued. The deadline for the critique is August 31st. Well done to everyone who submitted.

At the beginning of this year I had a plan; By July I was going to have a second story written and submitted to the NWS. It started well as I joined in with a challenge set by author Sally Quilford entitled 100k in a 100 Days. The aim was to write 1000 words each day for 100 days, starting on January 1st and ending on April 9th.

By March, I had 60,000 words written, most of which belonged to the work in progress (WIP). My writing came to an abrupt halt late March, when I lost my mum. Everything that followed knocked writing off the agenda.

I could not get back into the work in progress. The last scene I’d written concentrated on the hero’s grief having lost his family. It was not a place I wished to visit. With that in mind, I decided not to submit to the NWS. I emailed the organiser explaining my situation and received a lovely reply which left the door open for me to send in a partial (a non-completed story) and a synopsis if I felt able.

As time progressed and life settled into a new groove, I turned to writing short stories. They were perfect for fulfilling the desire to write without draining my emotional reserves. With aspects of my life hanging in the balance, I derived satisfaction from starting and completing a project within a short time span, and it appeased the guilt of not tackling the WIP knowing I was keeping my hand in.

There’s the telling word – appeased.

In hindsight I think those who know me well realised I was struggling with the idea of not submitting. I had 60,000 words saved in Drive C. I had neglected them. My poor, desperate hero, like me, had to start dealing with his grief. I could not leave him in his state of disbelief.

I began to think about the story once more. I mentioned one or two ideas to my wonderful Romaniac chums, who as ever, were supportive, funny and pillars of rock and again the suggestion was made that I should consider sending in a partial. I then received the same advice from two established members of the RNA.

Have you ever had that feeling someone is trying to tell you something?

At the beginning of July, struck by a bolt of insanity, I declared to my family and friends I would be submitting to the NWS and I would work for as long and as hard as I could to finish and polish the manuscript. I had six weeks, after all.

This Tuesday I didn’t go to bed. I stayed up reading through a revised and rewritten 52,000 words, replacing over-used phrases, correcting chronology mistakes and fixing typos and cut and paste errors.

I went to bed at 07:00, Wednesday, rose at 09:00, and at 11:00, handed the NEW padded envelope, fattened with my partial, to the post office assistant.

It was the first time I’d been out of the house in days.

Okay. So I didn’t manage to write the whole story, but I reached a point about a week before when I knew it was not going to happen. Perhaps I should have written the entire book before editing, but I wanted to submit more than a first draft. I appreciate it is not a final version, but I have presented my work to the best of my ability.

What have I learned? Support, advice and encouragement from family, friends and writing chums are invaluable assets when faced with the impossible, and I thank you for providing all three in lorry loads.

Scrap that. Make it juggernaut loads.

No. Container loads.

And what of my hero? He is out of his disbelief phase and he’s through with the guilt, but he is sinking lower than the Titanic. I wonder if like the sun, he will rise and see the dawning of happier times?

Laura x