Cake, grief, wonderful
Approximately-weekly news, #57
Before we begin, life being as it is, and Things Moving Around as they do, I have a slot for an assessment or edit on a full or partial manuscript RIGHT NOW*, which can be back on your desk by the end of July.
Did your inner writer just nudge you and say you were just thinking that it was time to get some help? Then maybe this slot is for you.
Take a look here and/or reply to this email, and we’ll talk.
Ah, summer skies.
Also, summer fields.
(Not in shot: Harris staring longingly at the place he saw a hare last Thursday.)
Thank you for all the birthday wishes. I had an excellent day. So excellent that there are hardly any photos. I even cut my cake before I took a suitably artistic photo of it. But here I am, eating it.
I’ve been having some bereavement counselling, and finding it hugely helpful as I pick my way through life without Lou. I have had counselling before, at different points in my life, and always found it to be a good thing. My experience is that just the fact of saying your feelings into the air can be powerful; and being heard by someone whose job it is to help you to look at/examine/feel/process those feelings helps with healing.
I thought I’d share something that might be useful to you, if you’re grieving. The gentle questioning of my counsellor helped me to realise that, when thinking/talking about Lou and how much I miss her, I always add a caveat. ‘I really wish she was here but I was so lucky that we were friends.’ ‘I’m afraid to have my birthday without her** but we did have so many birthdays.’ ‘I am so sad that she died but it would have been worse if she had died suddenly and we hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye.’
Of course, this is soothing. And these are things that people say to me, to comfort me, and it works. I *was* lucky to have Lou. It *was* an honour to write and speak her eulogy. I *did* get to live a lot of my life with someone at my side who I could trust with anything.
But through counselling conversations I have realised that, though these reminders from others are welcome, I do not always have to soothe myself. I can just feel my feelings. I can think, I wish she hadn’t died and I hate that she is gone. No buts. These things are true and I do Lou and I a disservice if I constantly try to caveat my way out of them.
I am trying to learn to separate my feelings of distress/loss/downright fury at Lou’s death, from the gratitude and richness and sheer bloody wonder of having known her. It’s not always easy but I think it helps more than constantly caveating my own thinking does.
Post-having-finished-a-book week has been disjointed but delightful. I have:
birthdayed
baked some peculiar cookies (I didn’t intend them to be peculiar, I made an injudicious flour substitution)
run the first of my Zoom workshops for writers (find out more and book here)
done things in the garden, with varying levels of expertise
failed to have a mammogram because the road was closed and if I went the long way I would miss my slot. (I did call to let them know when I realised and I’m going back tomorrow)
read, read, read
I’ve also started knitting some socks. (Pattern here.)
I finished a jumper, too, but it’s too hot to put it on for photos. Next time!
AOB:
I haven’t had official notes/feedback from my editor yet but I have had an email that includes the word ‘wonderful’.
I THOUGHT OF A TITLE FOR MY NEW BOOK AND EVERYONE LIKES IT!! This never happens to me. I am extremely pleased with myself.
I’m off to London for Shenanigans this weekend. I have a pleasing balance of things booked in (lunch here and seeing this at the theatre) and free time. Some of the free time will doubtless be spent in my favourite London knitting shop.
I accidentally inhaled a tiny fly and it was deeply unpleasant for both of us.
Be well, my friends, and don’t forget sunscreen,
Stephanie x
*Well, next Tuesday, post-Shenanigans, so you have time to read it through again.
**We loved doing birthdays.