Settled

Settled. What a lovely word. We are settled again. The Hovel is almost spacious, thanks to our Big Clearout...even the hideous stereo system was taken in the end, thanks to Freecycle. What a difference to the chaos of ten days ago.

Main sofa is occupied by two of the more important members of the household, one ginger, one black. Window bay occupied by two nice but fragile Victorian chairs. Now we can get into corners we haven't seen since we moved in, four years ago.

Settled. Weekend guests came, were lovely and went. The Hidden Haven auction pictures arrived safely in America, and have a lovely new home with Connie and Rob. The auction raised $1,000 dollars, which is wonderful. It has been passed on to the good people at the Crazy Cow Farm, who need it for extra medication; times like this I really appreciate our NHS, despite it's flaws.

Settled. My good friend Rima (at last!) has a lovely new website, The Hermitage, where she is displaying her gorgeous mediaeval styled artworks and artefacts. See if you can find the site entrance, cunningly hidden. I wish I had the money to do a Charles Saatchi and buy up her entire collection - but if I could purchase just one thing it would be this - a scrolling story encased in a house on wheels which turns as the wheels revolve. Utterly, gorgeously bewitching.

Settled. The Autumn Equinox has come and gone, and I'm sure it is no coincidence that all of a sudden my concentration skills have returned, and rather like Rima's storyhouse, the wheels of the Hovel are running smoothly again. I had put my flibberty-gibberty-ness down to the upset of re-arranging the Hovel, and not having any paying work. But then I read Daisy Lupin's post about the Dark Moon, and knew that I just had to sit it out. It would pass. Now it is Monday and I am painting again. More strange toys to join Buttercup. Watch out for Koko, coming soon.

Settled. My 'real' jobs have started to come home. Those vital bits of printed artwork, which are the key to getting more work. Soon I should have a whole folio of published work, and can start another round of self promotion. I didn't have a single piece of 'proper' work a year ago, so there's been some progress. I was thrilled to receive copies of the 'City Mouse and Country Mouse' re-tell cards - I wonder if I will ever get over the joy of seeing my work printed? The quality is excellent and the colours are almost an exact match, which is something when you consider that they were scanned in on my home scanner and e-mailed for reproduction.

There is just one tiny thing which is not settled...I am in need of one more volunteer for the first Society of Secret Fairies parcel exchange...just one...now, who will fly through my window first..?

EDIT - I think I have solved my fairy logistics, thank you! Joy, I need you to contact me via my profile, with details please.

Town mouse and country mouse

The deadline results, all finished and sent to far off America via internet carrier pigeons. A set of three reading cards for an educational package, to be published by Macmillan/McGraw-Hill. Now onto the next deadline, another poster for 5-7 magazine.



I've been thinking a lot recently. Probably not a good idea. I owe a big e-mail to my bloggy friend TLC, who started my Big Think inadvertently. It was an interesting post about a 'problem' a lot of - especially female - creatives have, in sticking to one thing at a time - it's Monday it must be a textile day, it's Tuesday it must be hand weaving...oh look, it's Friday, let's play about with some soap making. I took myself firmly in control over this some years ago, but it's been to the detriment of my writing. I have an odd relationship with writing. It is without doubt the thing I absolutely enjoy doing most in the world - more than painting, more than drawing. When I made my solemn and binding oath to my dead parents, at the tender and over-dramatic age of twelve, I vowed I would become a writer and an artist. For them. And began keeping a sketchbook and writing regularly. Now, I have always been better at writing than art, so I devoted more of my time as the years went on, to the art, as the writing would always fall off my fingers without effort - even if it was a bit purple prosey sometimes. The art - the drawing - was a struggle. It's only just got bearable, and I still work at it. I always had an over active imagination, but without the hand skills needed to visualise them. Anything you see now is the result of sheer slog. Now I realise that I haven't really written properly for years. I miss it. This blog has reminded me of how much dam' fun it is, and how it makes my heart sing, clears my head of ghosts and is generally an all round Good Thing. I've had a novel brewing in my head for about five years. I've made notes, but most of the plotting and amendments have been in my head. Thank God for a good memory. Now I've started to put it into words. I'm not sure if it's unreadable garbage, teenage-style meandering or just plain cringworthy. For the fooldhardy and curious, there's a link up there, under my profile; I aim to blog a new chapter every week, on Fridays, just when everyone is winding down and getting ready for the weekend*. It's nothing earth shattering and I never did aspire to be the next Virginia Woolf. But heck, it's good to be back on the horse.

*Unless you're an illustrator, in which case you'll be working.