Write Back

I’ve had a really packed few weeks, and being able to work off my laptop is an absolute must. My life is on this laptop in one way or another. So when finally the last of the festivals* was done, I was looking forward to spending a fair amount of time alone with my laptop to catch up on some things.

Then my laptop died.

Well, it didn’t exactly die. The battery started to expand, which is as good as dying because that can lead to the battery exploding and fires and big trouble, and you’re not supposed to used them at all once you spot the problem.

I only brought the laptop in July last year – because the previous one (three years old) died when the battery expanded. So thankfully, I could get the battery changed under warranty, so I called the supplier and they agreed to sort out the repair at no charge. So I downloaded all my documents onto a hard drive and took it to the shop. The bad news was that it would be away for a whole week (turned out to be 8 days).

In the meantime, I had to resurrect an old Samsung laptop I have. It’s ten years old, brought when Windows 8 was first released. I haven’t even turned that laptop on in years, so it took two days of updates to get it to do anything, and it turns out that doing anything with images is beyond its capacity. Well, to be honest, that’s not entirely fair, it could do stuff, but so slowly it was painful, definitely beyond the endurance of my patience. Thankfully, though, it was good enough to let me do the last edits on my current WIP, so I am very grateful I hadn’t got rid of the machine. If I hadn’t been able to do that, I would have been totally stressed out by now, instead, I’m feeling good for having sent the manuscripts to my publisher.

Anyway, I now have my lovely ‘new’ laptop back and I can really get on with all I need to do.

So happy to be reunited with my best work tool.

* Gwyl CRIME CYMRU Festival, then Narberth Book Fair, then CrimeFest.

Getting Longer

Yesterday I talked about the nerve wracking experience of submitting to a competition – which by the way I did a few minutes ago. Normally for me nerve wracking means nail biting – literally. I bite my nails.

Or more correctly – I used to bite my nails.

I have no idea at what point I finally stopped biting my nails, but I do seem to have, I have ten actual nails now. Nails that extend beyond the nail bed. See:

Still got ugly hands, but the nails look great. I’m using OPI Nail Envy to help, just in case anyone was wondering.

Now I am not here as a beauty blogger, there are plenty of them around, so I’m not going there.

I’m writing this becuase of what it indicates.

I’ve been biting my nails all my life. I bite for bordom, stress, nervousness, when I’m happy, when I’m sad, basically, any time for any reason. And now I’ve stopped. I can’t tell you when, just that I did, but this is what calm and contentment can do for you.

I’m happy with it. And hopefully I can keep that up because right now it’s not only the one competition entry that I’m nervous about, but an agent submission that I’m waiting to hear about. Keep your fingers crossed for success on all fronts (and your nails unbitten too).

Precipice

“Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”

― Samuel Johnson

No one is getting hanged, but one of the guys I work with is leaving the business at the end of next week.  This guy is very good, very clever, and he’s key to one of the development projects that I’m working on. 

While I was off, nothing was done – at least nothing that was actually useful. So since I’ve been back I’ve been trying to get this thing sorted.  It’s complex and takes a lot of concentration, and I am getting there.  But I’m worried that with my contact leaving, that I won’t get the information I need after next week.   What was worse, is that his manager added requirements to the list today.  I’m not sure that I can get all that done by the end of next week.

Here’s the problem with that – the reality is that I probably can get the development done in that time.  But knowing that I have no leeway piles the pressure on.  There was a great temptation to stay ‘at work’ this evening and get more done, but I know that that is the road to workaholic hell.

I’ve actually had to have a talk to myself to turn the laptop (works) off and stop.  What I couldn’t do was stop work and relax, I had to have something else to that needed doing – so I did a load of ironing.  Which is no bad thing, chores do need to get done and that was starting to nag from the corner.

This indicates to me that I’m finally getting into stride with stress management, and that has to be good, it should help me avoid falling back into a depression.  I’ll worry about the database tomorrow.

Carbon Horror

I work in an environmentally aware business and today I had access to a carbon calculator to see how much CO2 I produce going to work. My round trip each working day is just under 100 miles.  Yes, that’s right, 100 miles. I brought a low mileage car and in one year turned it into a high mileage car. 

The calculator horrified me, according to that my journey to work alone produces 4 to 5 tonnes of CO2 per year.  5 tonnes!  That’s terrible!

Up until sickness and lockdown, I was driving that at least 4 days a week, often 5. It’s an hour each way minimum. An hour of stress. And I didn’t have much choice in that. So add in the fact that I was destroying the planet to do it just makes me feel worse about the commute.

Hopefully, now that the world has proved that we don’t need to be travelling to one destination every day, things might change.  I understand that there’s a real value in face to face communications that can’t be replaced by technology, but you only need to establish that once, reinforce it maybe once a month or as necessary.  If I can persuade the bosses to let me work from home or my local office (4 mile away), four days a week and only go to the main office 1 day a week, I will be a much happier, healthier bunny.  So keeping my fingers crossed for that one.

Hangover

Woke up with a hangover this morning, had a bad evening yesterday and a bottle of wine.  Normally one bottle I’d be okay with, but this one must have ganged up with the one I drank last week that didn’t give me a hangover at all, and they hoodwinked me.

Unfortunately, a discussion yesterday about returning to work turned me inside out, mentally and emotionally.  It’s something that I have to get past because I need to return to work at some point, finances and all that.  I just have to learn to deal with the stress and avoid the depression it brings on.

The hangover was dealt with by multivitamins, re-hydration, a couple of paracetamol, and a 3.5 km walk.  Actually really enjoyed the walk, same walk as the other day, but my legs feel less stretched than the first one, that’s an improvement.

On the positive side, since then I have worked out the plotlines of two novels.  The last of my steampunk series of five and a standalone crime one. Guess I need to start writing them.  Just not right now.

An Incontinent Dog

I really should be writing.  It’s a simple as that.  I even want to be writing, but when I open up my current WIP or either of the other two I have reason to be writing, all I see is a blank sheet and no words.  Well I see the words I’ve already written, but nothing new springs to mind.

So I was about to close down, and give up for the day, when I saw Document1 was still open.  This document.  Not having any trouble writing this document.  But that may be because of the nature of this document.

This is my blog.  I can write whatever I want to write here.  I don’t have to make sure that it makes sense as it follows on the heels of the last blog.  It doesn’t have to relate to anything in the next blog either.  It’s its own little world of words – a standalone.  This way I am free and can just type a stream of consciousness scribbling thing, and let sentences kind of get away from me like this one did. I do go back and edit – most of the time – but sometimes I let the creative weirdness stay in.

The truth is that the last six months have been well, pretty naff actually.  I have struggled with stress and depression.  Don’t get me wrong, I have a good life, there is a great deal that I have to be grateful about in my life.  But getting depression isn’t one of them.  Depression can dump all over you like an incontinent dog with diarrhoea, and sometimes there is just nothing you can do to stop it.  Which is where I am now.

I’m trying to get past it, really I am, but this mental block on the writing is just starting to wind me up.  I’m not sure if being able to write this is helping or making matters worse since it’s such a stark contrast to where I was a few minutes ago.  I want to write the next scene of my WIP.  Even kind of know what it is, but I sit down to try and can’t, been like that a few days now.  I suspect that somewhere in the back of my mind I know there’s a problem with what I’m going to write.  That probably means that I’m going to have to wait until that “somewhere” figures out what is going on and jumps up to tell conscious me what the problem is.

This mid-book funk is unusual for me and I don’t like it.  I want it and the depression to go away.  Hand in hand into the sunset.  Yep, that would do.  A romantic break together.

I suspect what I really need is a restful break from the day job, but I can’t see that happening anytime soon either.  Well, except that I’m going to Crimefest is 46 days, that’s always something I look forward to.  Anyway, sorry it’s a bit of a blue afternoon, hope to have something more cheery to write next blog.