Tag Archives: Teenagers

Gazette column: This summer do something for others #shavemyhead

It’s “Thursday Thoughts” where I post my weekly Gazette newspaper column to my blog so you can have a read…

This week my column for the Gloucestershire Gazette is about doing something for others this summer and how,with 13 year-old Amy Carr about to shun our selfie-obsessed culture shave her long hair off for charity, we should all take a leaf out of her book and get brave for not only ourselves, but for others, too. To read it, simply click to my Column page.

**Amy is raising money for Cancer Research UK after she lost her aunty to the disease. You can support Amy in her brave head shave by tweeting about her using #shavemyhead. You can also donate right now at http://www.mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/amycarr1**

 

My column’s out now: We should cut our teenagers some slack

It’s “Thursday Thoughts” where I post my weekly newspaper column to my blog so you can have a read…

This week my column for the Gloucestershire Gazette is all about teenagers and how, with the job market taking a nose dive, we should cut them some slack and give them a chance . To read it, simply click to my Column page.

Let me know what you think. Do you think teenagers deserve our support? Or do you think they’ve got it easy? 

*Look out for tomorrow’s  post, “Friday Fact or Fiction”. This week I’ll be posting part three of my new short story, ‘The Quiet Life of Megan Quinn.’**

Diary of a hopeful author: A teenage sulk makes me realise what I’ve got…

It’s “Wednesday Wafflings” when I post the latest entry in my Diary of a Hopeful Author…Photo of a Diary

What a difference a week makes. If I’m honest, and I don’t know whether you picked up on this, but, like a helium balloon in the hot sunshine, last week I was feeling a tad deflated. ‘What’s the matter?’ my husband asks as he simultaneously carries an iPad, coffee, rucksack and his dinner to the sofa. I shake my head and, reaching for the coffee pot, shrug. ‘Dunno,’ I say, hearing my voice. I tense my shoulders and prepare my self for the inevitable retort, which, like ageing or my family’s bad flatulence, say, I am powerless to fight . ‘You sound like a teenager!’ he laughs. I relax my muscles, grateful it wasn’t too bad. ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ I say, grabbing a mug, ‘I don’t know what’s to do, to be honest.’ He spears a piece of soggy broccoli with his fork whilst checking the football scores on his iPad and scratching his thigh – who said men can’t multi task! ‘Why don’t you take some time out for a bit?’ he says. ‘Read maybe? Have a nice bath?’ I sip my coffee. ‘Hmmm,’ I say, ‘maybe you’re right.’ I know he has a load of work to do that evening, so kissing him on the forehead, I wish him luck and leave him to it while I go upstairs and run a bath.

Waiting for my bath to run, I flop on to the bed, and opening my iPad, log on to my WordPress account to check for any messages. Since I began this blog, like an old friend or good supportive underwear, it has become very important to me. Sometimes I sit here and type and I almost forget that whatever I publish will actually be read (which explains a lot, really, for which I sincerely apologise…). Thing is, of course, the reason I began the blog was because I have published a book, The Boy Who Played Guitar. ‘Start a blog!’ read all the advice. ‘Comment like crazy!’ said the forums. ‘Eat a truck load of chocolate!’ said the…actually, I said that. Anyway, being someone who, when they don’t have a clue themselves, takes advice and follows it until they find their feet, I set up this blog.

Now, I have to admit that in the early days – and this, if you’ve read any of my very first entries, will have you nodding and going , ‘Ah, yep, thought as much’ – I didn’t have the foggiest what I was doing with this blogging thingymajig. I didn’t know what WordPress was; I didn’t know how technically a blog functioned (still don’t to a certain degree, but I digress…); and most crucially, I didn’t know what on earth I was going to write, never mind if anyone would read it. But no matter what doubts I had, like a voter at a polling station, I went into it anyway, and the rest, as they say, is history, or at the very least, today. Bath over, I flip open my iPad and catch up with my diary. Every morning for as long as I can now remember, I have been rising at 5a.m to bash out novel number two, and, to my surprise, when I go through my outline, I realise that I have only 3 and a half chapters of the novel left to write. Three and a half chapters! Whoohoo! Quickly logging onto the manuscript I clock the word count and slap my hand to my mouth – I have written just over 80,000 words. I knew I could waffle, but 80k words? Where did the time go? Probably into my coffee cup.

Smiling, I skip to my WordPress account and notice that there are some comments flashing. At this point I have to say that I love getting comments on my blog, not necessarily because it means people are reading what I write – although that is nice – but because you get to chat to really jolly lovely people. Oh, and I LOVE a chat. Peering at the screen, I see that the comment in question is from a nice chap from Canada called Steve Marchand whose writing blog goes under the name Citizen of Ville Joie. From what I can tell, the comment is in response to last week’s Wednesday Waffle diary post in which I, basically, worry. ‘I think of you as someone who has already made it,’ says Steve’s comment. I sit back, and, feeling a bit floored by it, think. Viewing myself in that way – as someone who has made it – has never actually occurred to me, and, a bit like driving along a scenic coastal road with a blindfold on, I never really see what’s actually around me. Have I made it? Hmmm, if I think back to what I’ve done writing wise even since this January, I guess I haven”t done so bad.

Needing a second opinion, I nip downstairs to find my lovely husband pretty much knee-deep in paper work. Making him a drink, I ask him how things are going and plonk myself down beside him. ‘Can I ask you a question, honey?’ I say. He glances up. ‘You’ll have to be quick, I’ve got a lot on.’  I go to open my mouth then change my mind. ‘It’s okay,’ I say, standing. ‘It’ll wait.’ And, as I leave the room, he returns to his work and I am not 100% sure if he really clocked I was there.

That night before bed, I go through my messages, catch up with tweets and do some quick research ready to write my column. As the week unfolds, whether its down to comments on my blog or my busy husband – or simply the sunshine – I begin to see things in a way I don’t think I always have. I notice how happy our girls are when we are all together; I notice how hard my husband works and how little he complains about it; I notice how much I write now and how many different styles I am getting used to trying; I notice my lovely friends, where we live, even the trees on my run I notice, trees that I normally miss because I have my iPod earplugs rammed into my ears in my constant attempt to DO EVERYTHING FASTER. 

One evening, having tucked up the kids and given my hubbie a big hug just because, I click on to my Kindle and decide to read a little of the Tina Fey autobiography, Bossypants, before I do any writing. Sat in the longe, my hubbie sits by my side with his feet on my lap. ‘I read your Monday Media blog post,’ he says, streching. I chuckle. ‘Why are you laughing?’ he frowns. I chuckle again, my eyes on my iPad. Then, I burst out laughing. My husband rolls his eyes. ‘Oh God,’ he groans, ‘you’ve started that Tina Fey book, haven’t you?’ I glance up. ‘How did you know I’d got it?’ I say. He shrugs and pulls a little pout, ‘Dunno.’ I narrow my eyes and return to my reading. He flips open his iPad and taps on to the football news. I smile; at least it’s nice to know I’m not the only teenager in the house.

**Out on Thursday “Thursday Thoughts” where I post my latest newspaper column to my blog. This week it’s all about saving water…**