I have been writing a book. It's nearly finished and for some reason, I have it in my head that when it is done, I can begin to get well again.
A lot has happened since I last wrote in this wee blog of mine.
I finally got the CBT I had been asking for, but to quote Oscar Wilde,
"There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."
I don't like CBT very much because they lied to me. I thought it was going to be all about Science and Logic- not talking about emotions!
Still, I am going to plough on through with it because I have to admit, I think it is actually giving me what I need.
So, this book. It's a kiddies novel- an adventure, a quest and it is quite wonderful.
Sure, it needs a lot of editing as I have the ideas but perhaps, not the skills as yet. I've never written a novel before and I have a lot to learn.
Only two people have seen any of it as yet and both seem to think that it has some potential. That is encouraging because perhaps I can add "writer" to my arsenal of "things Lizzie can do".
I am back at work and have been for some time. My job is an absolute dreamin every respect and this is a good thing.
I've been racking up some new adventures too- Christmas was spent doing every kind of dangerous sport that one can do on snow and my birthday treat consisted of caving and abseiling.
I do love abseiling as it is so very calming and relaxing.
However, this week has been difficult.
I need to finish this book. it is all I can think about.
This has entailed BF being ignored, dinners being left uneaten and the 90 words per minute tap echoing throughout a house that is begging to be swept and dusted!
It's a strange state of affairs finding out that you have a story inside you.
I have always had stories inside me as I am a song writer- but songs are all about condensing information, whereas stories are about expanding it.
I've never had to expand on anything before and this has been the toughest challenge in writing a book so far.
So how did I find the story?
Well, six months ago or more, I was having a very bad night. Thoughts were whirling around my head like a gang of ghosts caught in a pressure cooker. None of the thoughts were pleasant and none of them showed any signs of buzzing off any time soon.
It was 3am and I needed to be up for work the next day.
So I said to myself, "What can I do to make my mind be calm?"
And then it came to me.
"I shall tell myself a fairy story."
And BAM! Just like that, one came- the whole thing- the book I am writing now!
Of course, this did nothing to help me sleep!
My long-suffering OH asked me sleepily, what on Earth I was doing as the light went on accompanied by frantic scrabblings in my note book.
"Oh, nothing dear- I just have a novel to write," came my nonchalant reply.
At first, he didn't believe that I would stick with it but as 5 000 words became 50 000 and then 60 000 and are now rapidly approaching 70 000 and The End, he doubts me no more.
The question is, will I be brave enough to try and get it published?