Approximately-weekly news, #48
The beach, an ice-cream, a horse, and a posy. (And an Oxford comma and I am not sorry. )
The beach was beautiful this morning.
But very tiring. One of us had to have a Big Rest when we got home.
Publication is a funny old day, in that nothing really happens, except that a different sort of waiting begins. I stop counting down to publication day and start counting down to Knowing If The Book Is Doing Okay Day, which never comes because it is basically impossible to work this out. In much the same way that you never really know whether you do kissing correctly or have the right things in your wardrobe. (No, 17-year-old Stephanie, you will never find the answers to these questions. Or rather, you just get to decide that you do and you have. It’s going to take you another twenty years. Don’t sweat it.)
But! It’s also an excellent day. Here are some of the things I love about it.
So many generous readers make the effort to post reviews on websites and on social media. This really matters, and it’s so appreciated.
Someone will invariably send me a photo of my book in the wild, quite often with a message along the lines of ‘wasn’t sure whether to send this but’… Honestly, people, SEND IT. The day my novel comes out is also the day I remember that there are literally millions of other books in the world that people could be reading instead of mine. That photo is the fence that stands between me and a field full of Existential Thoughts, which are bounding around like kangaroos in the sunshine. They look great from a distance but I really don’t want them to be able to get up close.
I will spend the evening drinking something sparkly* with Beloved Mr Butland.
Generally, I declare in advance that I don’t want to make a fuss and I just want to have a normal day, apart from the sparkly*. And then at some point in the day I change my mind and decide I would like A Treat. (This too is okay, 17-year-old Stephanie. Being an adult doesn’t have to be quite as serious as you are trying to make it.) This time, the treat took the form of ice cream. We go to an ice-cream parlour where there’s lots of space outside, and there is ice cream suitable for dogs, and when we open the car door Harris does a little boing of delight that makes my day. As did the excellent combo of rhubarb sorbet and mini-egg ice cream that I had. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.
I feel really proud of myself, all day long.
I’ve just read an absolute stunner of a book. ‘The Horse’ by Willy Vlautin is the story of Al Ward, an aging alcoholic musician, who is living in remote Nevada when a blind horse arrives and will not leave. It’s sad and beautiful and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
I’ve been trying to find the tricky balance between being aware of all the ways the world is on fire, and not making myself chronically despairing. It’s not easy. Here are some things that I’m doing.
I have stopped putting BBC Radio 4’s Today programme on as soon as I wake up. Amazingly, not listening to two people bellowing at each other has made quite a difference to the start of my day. Sometimes, we just have quiet, while we discuss what an excellent dog Harris is as he stands at the side of the bed huffing and waiting to see who’s going to take him out for a walk. Sometimes, we put on BBC Radio 3, a classical music station. By the time breakfast rolls around, I’m ready for Radio 4 and a bit of current affairs. Somehow it’s easier to listen to whatever nonsense Trump and his people are spouting when I’ve got my clothes on and my earrings in.
I sit outside and read my book for a bit, and leave my phone in the house. In the eighteen months between my best friend being diagnosed with a rare cancer and her death in January, I got used to having my phone within glancing distance all the time. Although it’s bittersweet to acknowledge that there is not going to be anything from her, or about her, that is urgent any more, I’m enjoying being out of range of global catastrophe.
I act where I can and how I can. This can feel almost pathetically small. I have started picking up litter when I’m out with Harris. (Assuming that the litter hasn’t been anywhere near any food, in which case Harris will dispose of it. He once found a paper bag with half a sausage roll in it, and bag and roll disappeared in nanoseconds. It was, he tells me, the best day of his life, apart from the days he gets ice cream.) I donate money and time, which never feels like enough. I am trying to learn about things I don’t feel I have a good understanding of, which includes listening to people I might not necessarily agree with.
Please, tell me what you do to make things manageable in what we can charitably call These Weird Times.
My friend sent me a posy. I put it in a jug that I absolutely love, except when I try to pour anything from it, at which point the cream/gravy sort of erupts, unhelpfully, everywhere, at which point I use language Most Unseemly. So this seems a perfect use of it:
Until next time, my friends, be well.
Stephanie X
*Or is it sparkling? I suppose it is, but now I’ve typed it, they both seem wrong. Shall we say it’s fizzy?