Beautiful blank books...

Isn't it mysterious to begin a new journal like this? I can run my fingers through the fresh clean pages but I cannot guess what the writing on them will be.

Maud Hart Lovelace

One thing people quickly learn about me is that I have a bit of a stationery "thing"; have had for as long as I can remember. I've no idea how it started or where it might end and I sometimes wonder what madness might ensue if I ever gave it free rein. I don't give in to it (arguably I exert extreme control!) and I still have a sizeable stash by non-stationery-geek standards. I know how bizarre this can seem to some and I also know that I'm (by far) not alone in this quirk. I love when I meet someone who shares it and there is a mutual recognition, an obvious eye-twinkle during a chat about the joys that even a browse through an online stationery store can bring. Being let loose in a real shop - filled with tangible, smellable paper, writing instruments, inks & general stationery "stuff" - can make for giddiness and shortness of breath. Truly.

I especially love a notebook. Books for writing, books for drawing, books for pasting stuff into, books for just running my hands over and sticking my nose into. Any book of blank pages qualifies, lined or unlined. It doesn't have to be fancyschmancy either. A simple exercise book is no less appreciated. There's just something so delicious about the potential that a blank book holds for me. In fact, so much so, that I keep books deliberately empty for years just to preserve that sense of promise... and then I write in them from the back, to further extend the illusion. Yes, weird, I know.

Because it's common knowledge amongst family, friends and colleagues that I find notebooks so swoon-worthy, I'm lucky enough to receive them as gifts too and these are most treasured because they've been specially chosen for me with thought and care. I often keep these for several years before I use them as well and sometimes, if they are really beautiful, I angst over "spoiling" them with my squiggly handwriting.

I do use them though - eventually. In time they all find their perfect purpose... as a journal, a space for work-meeting notes, a place to stick inspirational pictures, to gather life's ephemera or to press leaves... In time.

This week I'm due to start a new journal and I'm choosing from this pile of three beauties - all gifts and all gorgeous in their own way. The bottom one was a Christmas gift three years ago from a colleague at my last place of work. The middle one came to me from New York, bought by a special friend whose luggage was already dangerously close to overweight but she knew its rightful home was with me and tucked it in anyway. And the top one, a Birthday present from my dad and step-mum, who knew that everything about it would appeal to me... the size, the horses, the colours - so me.

I have set them on top of my bookshelf for now and when the time comes, probably midweek, one of them will reveal itself to be the right one. I can't wait to see which it is.

Ready or not...

I've been away from work for just over a week now and I've spent that time visiting with friends (to cuddle babies and say farewells), thinking about what I need to pack for my travels (allowing for a variety of climates but limited to what I can easily carry), stocking up my reading list* (both paper and kindle versions), generally preparing things for my absence (making sure bills will be paid, spare keys have been distributed and other such mundane stuff), and trying to gather what I know the creative space in my head will need when the time comes (fresh notebooks, lovely pens, camera... you know what I mean). It's been busy and, with only three days to go now 'til I fly South, is only going to get busier. I think it's fair to say that the "relax and restore" phase of the agenda hasn't kicked off yet. Underneath the tide of all this activity there's a tiny ripple of anxiety at leaving certain things behind for a while, some, perhaps for good.

However, much deeper, at the level where the heart beats faster and faster as dreams take shape; below all of the surface agitation, there's been a gentle and consistent swell of excitement, anticipation and something which now borders on inner glee. I say "inner" because I think on the outside I still look the same but inside, I am all alive with possibility and not just smiling; grinning. I'm not quite ready but ready to be ready. I know that doesn't make much sense but it's as accurate as I can get at right now. Preparing to go... ready or not.

*if anyone has any good reading recommendations, please do share. I'm open to anything - fiction or non-fiction - I intend to do a LOT of reading! 

What does it take...

...to be a writer? Or perhaps, more accurately... for me to consider myself a writer? To call myself a writer?

I write. A lot. I write for work, I write for pleasure. I correspond, I journal, I blog. I write reports, presentations, learning materials, newsletters, essays, online columns... sometimes even the occasional really bad poem or story. Fiction is not necessarily my forte and I tend not to share much of that. But words pour out of me. Hundreds, sometimes thousands of words. Daily.

I don't remember learning to read. I remember pretending to read out loud and making up the story from the pictures I was looking at, and then, I could read. I don't remember the process of learning to do it and now it feels like I've always been able to, in the same way as I cannot remember a time before I was able to walk or swim. But I clearly remember learning to write. Practicing the letters, joining them together into things that meant something and then into groups of things that meant something more. I remember discovering the freedom of being able to express myself through words on a page. And I've been writing ever since. 

So why is it that I find it so hard to think of myself as a writer? Let alone say it out loud? Writing a book is a dream that crystalised in my head when I was about fourteen and I received some encouragement from an English teacher who nurtured our words and helped us channel and craft our adolescent emotion and imagination into stories.  He made me believe that I might one day write and publish something other people would enjoy reading too and, ever since, I have had on my lifelist, write a book, be a writer.

Strangely, the fact that when I was at school I had my stories and poems published in the school magazine, was awarded prizes and asked to represent the school in writing competitions, did not count. When I was at University I wrote for the student newspaper, published newsletters for special interest groups, and had a story collected into a book along with some others by my peers. But that did not count. Does not count. I lost confidence in my ability and I struggled to say, I write. I am a writer. And I still do.

The dream was placed where dreams often are, in the distant future.

But this is the distant future. What am I waiting for? And what will it take? Those of you who've been sharing this space with me for a while know this about me - I have on my list for this year: 

• write a proper outline for my first book
• start writing the book

And several of you have actively and openly encouraged me to do it. Cheered me on and helped me dust off the dream. For that I cannot thank you enough. Just this morning, a lovely friend mentioned a character that she feels I should include in The Book. And there's where I come unstuck. Because as soon as I start to think about that, I start to hear this voice in my head say, Who do you think you are? A writer?! A Writer?!? Let's just say that this voice knows how to deliver a verbal sneer.  And it's crushing.

So I haven't written an outline. Most days I don't know what I want to write a book about. All my ideas feel paltry. I write notes, I gather thoughts, I read about writing, I throw down a few words and then delete them, I stall. And yet, the urge to write remains. Cannot be denied. And I don't want this to be one of those dreams that stays forever in the distant future. Something I might regret. I don't believe in regret.

So. A month ago, I joined a writing group. Eight people, some published, some not, but all with an interest in and a love of writing. We meet once every six weeks and, next week, I will be presenting my first piece for review. I'm terrified. Sick to my core terrified. But if I don't try, I'll never know if this is something I can do or not. Who knows what might come of it? Perhaps the books will emerge. Perhaps not. But I will be writing. And people will be reading it. And that's a start.

And then I think to myself, what does it take to be a writer? To consider myself a writer? To call myself a writer? The answer really is simple: writing, a published medium, a reader... 

I write. There's a button that says publish. You're here. You read. Writer, publisher, reader. Perhaps I am a writer after all? 

I am. I am a writer. I am a Writer. No, I am a writer. Big, capitalised labels scare me. But that's okay. I am a writer. For the moment, that works.

Now, about that outline...

Book-lover's giveaway - winner...

What delight your responses to my booky giveaway post have given me. I feel like I've received a gift from everyone who shared their love of reading and their favourite books and authors with me. Thank you so much!

I've been reminded of some already much loved authors, always worth rereading (Isabel Allende, Arundhati Roy, Charles Frazier, Margaret Atwood, and Khaled Hosseini amongst them) and have added many new titles to my winter reading list, several of which I might never have discovered but for your recommendations.

If you too are looking for some reading inspiration, I'd highly recommend checking out the great comments on the original post. A lovely eclectic mix to snuggle up with in the cold and dark of the months to come here in the Northern hemisphere. And I'm looking forward to each and every one now on my list.

And so, to the giveaway part of the proceedings...

The worst thing for me with these seasonal giveaways is always that I can't send a big ol' parcel out to show my appreciation to everyone who writes in and plays along, so this time I've decided to do things slightly differently. In fact everyone who commented on that post by Friday (whether you entered the draw or not) will receive a little something if they send their postal address to me at kendalee (dot) paintedlady (at) googlemail (dot) com.

The something really is only very teeny-tiny but I have some mini book-lover's pinback buttons (I include them in the inaugural member packs for our bookclub at work so have a bit of a stash in my desk) and would love to share them with you too. If you'd like to receive one, please choose from either this design, or this one, or this one (only three of this last one left - so first come, first served on that one - but plenty of the other two designs). Just let me know which you'd prefer and I'll pop one in an envelope to you... with pleasure!

Of course, there is still the initial prize too - a favourite book passed on from my personal library, some lovely bookplates, a personalised bookmark, a reading snack treat, and a mini book made by me... all wrapped up and sent with love.

And the winner of the draw is...

Lovely Robyn of Art Propelled! It actually made me smile extra broadly when I drew this from my little carved wooden bowl as Robyn is a fabulous artist who works mostly in wood herself and, although this is not one of her pieces, it was almost as if the bowl had spoken on her behalf. Congratulations Robyn! I'm thrilled to be making this little parcel up for you and if you'd like to drop me an email with your postal address too please, I'll get it in the post to you before the end of October...

And thanks again to everyone who played along - it truly felt like I was the winner in this one!

♥

Booky bliss and a seasonal giveaway, or is it a swap?

I have always imagined paradise to be a kind of library.

Jorge Luis Borges

(1899-1986)

I'm with Borges on this.

I think it's fair to say that I couldn't (or don't want to) imagine my life without books. Reading is like air to me. Or friends and family. Or, at the very least, like clothing. I suppose if we want to be literal, clothes might be something I could manage without - 'specially if I lived on a warm, desert island or in a house with underfloor heating... but really, how practical or pleasant or indeed, possible, would it be to try to lead the life I love, without clothes? Not very. Same with books. I feel I need them like I need shelter and clothing and chocolate.

I know I'm not alone in this and I love that there are people out there (and lots and lots of them apparently inhabit this lovely blogosphere) who get it. Truly get it.

I read every day, no matter how briefly, and luxury equates to hours and hours of uninterrupted reading time. I can never have too much time for reading. I know that for many Summer's when they especially indulge their love of reading but for me, it's when the days draw in and the chill increasingly invites me to snuggle up under a blanket with a warm spicy chai and a selection of snacks, that I start to get excited about spending more time with a book in hand.

The picture above is one I snapped this morning of the pile that's on my bedside table right now. I'd love to be able to show that I'm reading highbrow classic literature (or at least one example thereof) but clearly, I'm not. Eclectic is definitely my style and, at the moment, there's not a single classic (or even a literary prize-winner, as far as I'm aware) amongst them. I do love a good classic because, let's face it, it's often in that category 'cause it's well written stuff that's stood the test of time. And there are probably enough classics to last a lifetime. But I love to read new authors too and how can one resist a title like 'The elegance of the hedgehog' or 'A case of exploding mangoes'? I haven't started either of these yet but can't wait to do so. I've already dipped into a few of the creative titles here and started reading 'City of Thieves' on a train journey earlier this week. Liking it so far.

There's also a novel for young adults in this selection - one I'm planning to read this weekend and am very much looking forward to. Written by luscious Laini Taylor, one of the first bloggers I ever read regularly, her first book, Blackbringer, was an absolute delight from first word to last - great writing, consummate storytelling and brilliant characterisation. No boundaries of age there. And I anticipate no less from her new title, Silksinger. Roll on Saturday, when I have a few hours set aside to enjoy it.

Something I know some people find weird about my reading habits (and even infuriating if they have to share a space with me and my multiple piles of bookmarked books) is that I find it impossible to read only one book at a time (yes, yes, trouble narrowing things down... it's a recurring theme. Deeply ingrained, this need for variety, even here). In general, I'll have at least one novel, a non-fiction read (often but not always work-related), several dip-in-and-out-ables (creative books usually fall into this category for me) and a few magazines... all on the go at the same time.

The thing about reading like this is that I'm constantly looking for new things to add to the pile. New inspiration. And much as I love them, I do sometimes find bookshops a little overwhelming - so many books, never enough time to read (or even browse) them all. So I like reading what others have recommended. Whether they be reviewers I've come to trust, friends, family, or kindred spirits briefly encountered, I love to hear what other people are reading and enjoying. This way I'm often introduced to new authors or individual gems that I might not have discovered otherwise.

So, here's the situation: Autumn and Winter stretch ahead, with plenty of long dark evenings and chilly days for snuggling up with a book to look forward to. But, I could really use some juicy reads to add to my pile. Some inspiration. And it's also time for me to do my seasonal giveaway (another thing that makes me very happy and something I've been looking forward to), so I'm going to combine the two.

The giveaway gift will be a little parcel of treats for a book (or magazine) lover, designed 'specially for the winner. It will include a favourite book from my own library (I love the idea of books being passed along, circulating book bliss and good karma around the world); some beautiful bookplates; a personalised bookmark; a delicious treat to be enjoyed before, during or after reading, and a little book made by me for you, with love...

In return, and this why I think this is probably more of a swap than a giveaway, I ask that you leave me the gift of your ideas in a comment: a glimpse into your reading happy place:

1. Where, when, how do you most enjoy your reading time?
2. What do you love to read - your favourite genre(s), or favourite author(s)?
3. And also, very importantly, one or more reads that you'd highly recommend?

I don't mind if the recommendations are all-time favourites, recently discovered delights, or something that's still on your to-read list because it's been recommended by someone you trust. And I also don't mind which genre they fall into. Honestly, the only thing I've found I really don't much get along with is horror. Otherwise, anything goes.

I will be delighted to learn what you love, and so happy to have an inspired and newly-grown list. So happy. There'll be happyheartdancing going on.

I'll do the draw next Friday (the 9th) and the parcel will go out to you before the end of October.

I'm still not sure whether it's a giveaway or a swap, but either way, I do hope you'll play...

And for today, I wish you a very happy Friday!

♥

Last of this sweetness...

...for this year. 

April 2009

I popped out this morning for a toasted cinnamon bagel (an all too regular weekend treat) and stopped in the park on the way home to enjoy the last of the blossom. There's much more green than white on these trees now.

May 2009

So summer really is here. Shame that the temperature's only 11 degrees and there's rain forecast for later. But the sun was out briefly this morning, the bagel was delicious, the blossom sweet, and this afternoon I'll just curl up with my book and listen to the raindrops hit the windows... Still sweet.

Lost in gentle, genteel Cranford...

So Christmas came and went. It was pleasant enough and I achieved two of my key aims - to relax and to eat too many mince pies. A good day.

Today I'm ticking off a few more things on my holiday to do list:

• Sleep beyond sunrise (a recent record of 5 consecutive hours)
  
• Wear pyjamas all day (is there any greater pleasure than changing into fresh pyjamas and snuggly socks for the day? Something SO deliciously decadent about this for me)
  
• Eat breakfast at lunchtime and lunch (leftovers from yesterday) for dinner
  
• Read (a Birthday present I've been looking forward to starting) and nap at will
  
• Start watching some of my saved and favourite movies and series on dvd...

If you enjoy a good period drama, as I do, this one can't be beaten. Superb story-telling, incredible actors and that production polish that the BBC do so well. It is a subtle, rich, emotional beauty of a piece. Almost 5 hours of it. 

I saw this series when it ran on the BBC and was gifted with the dvds a little while ago. I do so love being able to watch a whole series in one sitting. It's like getting lost in a great book and staying up all night to read it to the end. Becoming an inhabitant (albeit in the role of observer) of that world for a little while. I'm about half way through and I've already laughed and cried. And that's a good sign.

I hope you're having a great time doing whatever's on your to do list for the days after Christmas...

An embarrassment of riches

Just a few days ago I mentioned that I'd treated myself to a few goodies from my Etsy wishlist and that I was all a-tingle in anticipation of their imminent arrival.

Well, on Saturday they arrived.... Far more quickly than I'd expected and both packages on the same day! How wonderful. I love parcel post. And it didn't stop with just these two.

Not only were these gifts to myself everything I'd imagined and hoped for, but there were some extra treats in the form of an unexpected enclosure, and a few more beautiful prezzies - sent by my lovely friend in Toronto - that arrived on the same day. That's twice in one month that I have been blessed by the thoughtful kindness of my friends! How lucky am I? And believe me, the postal treats are the least of it. Knowing these people enriches my life, and being able to count them as friends is something I never take for granted.

Anyway, Saturday's post brought me the following lovelies...



This book is gorgeous! Beautiful, soulful, and inspiring in so many ways.

Christine's work is just a visual feast. The images and reflections that she captures in her art and in the pages of this book (which is a work of art itself and an obvious labour of love) are warm and heartfelt, personal yet universal. They resonate with me on so many levels. I read it from cover to cover yesterday, greedily devouring the whole thing in one sitting, and now I am starting again and working through it more slowly in order to savour every page, every picture, every word.

To treat yourself to a taste of her art and what's to be found inside the book, have a look here.

I also was surprised and delighted to find this little gem of a collage enclosed...


I know that she knows nothing specific about me but it could not be more perfect! The colours, a butterfly, a little dance dress and black lace drama, and reference to procrastination and wanderlust - probably two of my most defining impulses.... Beautiful and perfect! Thank you!

And then there were the gifts from Canada - an amber-coloured necklace and a black, butterfly lacquered stone... Again, beautiful and perfect!



These gifts come from a heart so generous and loving and that instinctively knows just how and when to reach out and make a person feel special. A heart that knows mine very well - including all the dark corners - and loves me still. She enclosed a little note to say that she was sending these things for no reason other than that they'd reminded her of me, and that they came with love.

What can I say except, thank you my dear friend?! They are beautiful and I will take pleasure in them every day.

And speaking of warm and open hearts.... This woman I don't know at all really, except through the glimpses I've been granted on her blog and in her photography. But I think you can tell a lot about a person from how she sees the people and the world around her. And if her photographs and musings are anything to go by, then that's enough to tell me that she is gentle and brave and beautiful.

And I love this picture.


It reminded me at first sight of one of the single most perfect moments of my life to-date - a dawn walk on a beach in Mozambique, with my youngest brother, before we went out for a swim with wild dolphins.... It captures all the connection, all the peace, all the joy, that I felt at that moment. And that I almost always feel when I have my toes in "sea bubbles".

An ordinary sparkling moment.

I am fortunate to have many of these moments in my life to look back on and I like to be visually reminded of them because it reminds me to notice and to strive for more of them in my every day. I don't have many pictures from that time so thank you, Denise, for capturing it so perfectly in yours!

Giving my heart a little of what it needs

The blogosphere is a strange old place and to this, like to many things, I am a relative newcomer. And I'm not even talking about being a blogger myself - I just mean as a blog reader. It's been not much more than a year or so since I first strayed into the magical world that is creative blogging.

I've always spent a fair bit on creative books. Even when I could barely afford them, I'd happily eat beans on toast for a month to do so. My husband never really understood this but I'm inspired (and always have been) by the words and images of other creative people and I take courage from observing others in their creative endeavours, as well as enjoying the results and success of those endeavours.

I clearly remember the moment I first made the connection from the printed word to the blogged word.... I bought a copy of The Creative License by Danny Gregory and after I'd read it from cover to cover, I typed a web address offered at the back of the book into my web browser and went to his blog, Everday Matters. And so it began.

It was a revelation. From there I followed links to other creative people on the web... And from those to others... My favourites list grew and grew! I lurked around (even when I didn't know that is what it's called) and I was thrilled by what I found. Creative individuals who shared their talents and their work, and the heartfelt ups and downs of their personal creative journeys, sincerely and generously. Who created online communities and offered one another encouragement and support. This is freedom of expression, well expressed, I thought. It was a revelation.

And then there was Etsy... Somewhere to buy the wonderful handmade arts and crafts that these people were making, affordably, and in support of each other. Again, I was hooked.

Somewhere along the winding routes I was taking in the blogosphere, I encountered these two women - Christine Mason Miller and Denise Lynette Andrade. I honestly don't remember if I found their Etsy shops or their blogs first. Or which one (as they are friends) led me to the other. But at first glance and first read, I was hooked. Hooked by their lovely words and images and hooked by the glimpses I was given into who they are.

I don't feel I know them, but I feel that - from what little I do know - I would like to know them. And I love their art - it is beautiful and heartfelt and it touches me.

So this month, a month when my heart is in need of a little extra looking after, is seeking reassurance, and ways to manifest what is important to it in my everyday, I have treated myself to something off my Etsy wishlist from each of them.

And now I see these items have been dispatched... And I feel just like a child on Christmas Eve... I can't wait to receive them. I am tingly with excitement and anticipation. And that's a little of what my heart needs too!