Why I write.......

Back to the blog after a short hiatus. I was involved in an amateur production of the female version of ‘The Odd Couple’ by Neil Simon and life was hectic for a few weeks. Anyway, curtain pulled for the last time on Friday last so back to the ordinary madness of my life.

I’ve written very little for the last few months – I have been collaborating on a project with a songwriter friend, the very talented Karen Coleman. Remember where you heard her name first folks – it will be extremely well known soon. Between that, the play, working and vaguely trying to run a home is it any wonder I’m shattered.

I lay awake the other night wondering why in the name of the Universe did I do it to myself? I’m exhausted to the point of bringing on insomnia. I mean I could easily stop writing – it’s not as if the world was holding its breath waiting to see what I’ll write next. I could go back to work full-time thus throwing an extra couple of hundred into the family purse every month. I could chill in the evenings in my garden from Spring to Autumn. In winter I could curl up (guiltfree) with a book by the fire. I might even (heaven forbid) start talking to Jemser again; out on long boozy nights in some hostelry where we sort out all the conundrums of the universe – at least I do, all he has to do is pretend to listen, secretly wondering what happened to him at that last hole in Corballis.

Last year at Listowel Writers’ Week I took part in a workshop facilitated by the lovely Marina Carr, playwright extraordinaire. At one stage Marina said

‘Why do we do it? I mean nobody really gives a s**t.’ I came out with the stock answer,
 ‘Because we have to.

 ‘No. We think we have to.’ Marina replied, Marina is an intellectual – someone who thinks deeply on all matters and then puts her thoughts into the speech and movements of her characters thus producing some of the finest plays this country has seen. I respect her opinions and I've pondered over what she said for almost a year. BTW Listowel Writers Week 2012 starts Wednesday May 30th and if you haven't paid them a visit yet make it a 'must' on your calendar. A fantastic week with like minded people in the welcoming atmosphere of Listowel - the drink flows too! I can't go this year and I think I'll probably go into a decline! Dublin Writers Weeek is on and I'll probably attend some of those events. Listowel however beats them all for atmosphere.  

I know I don’t have to write– on one level – yet something drives me. I don’t know. My mother would have called it God given – any talent is innate I suppose, but unless you practise, use that talent; it will fade. If I lost the ability to tell stories in the way I choose through any fault of my own  e.g. not writing or by procrastinating for too long then I think it would be the nearest thing to a sin against God, Nature, The Universe – what ever.

When I was nominated for the Hennessy Award for first fiction some years ago a friend of Jemser’s (and my friend too I hope!) – Galway poet Gerard Hanberry - sent me a text telling me of a writer son who came proudly to his writing father with his first small success – Dad congratulated son then said ‘Welcome to Hell’. I laughed when I read it  but believe me five years later I know exactly what he meant! Ger is a poet and author of ‘More Lives than One’ a beautiful book about the family of the great Oscar Wilde, a book that is truly a labour of love. He also told me that having won the Hennessy I could never turn my back on writing. He is right, and I never will.

When I found ‘my voice’ something miraculous happened for me. Finally I fitted into the world around me. Up to that I always ached for something – not knowing what it was I ached for. I tried to fill the void with myriad things – alcohol, cigarettes, friends, family. But there was always something missing. I always wanted just one more ‘thing’ Someone very wise once asked me, in an unusual temper,just what it was that would make me happy?

I opened my mouth to retort at the time – then promptly shut it again. I had a bing moment. I was responsible for my own happiness. Nothing anyone did for me would work. I had to find it myself– that key, the key to my happiness. And find it I did and thank Heaven for it. Writing may well be thankless but it fulfils me. The world doesn’t care about it, but I do. I love it and it loves me (except when it needs a rest from me!). Best of all I’m not annoying anyone by rabbitting on all the time at a pace that no-one can keep up with, jumping from one subject to another. There are sections of Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ that remind me of my restless brain (I’m not claiming talent here!). On and on and on and on – to what end?

If technology ever advances to the point where they can scan your brain in to see what’s going on in all the thinking areas I’d love to see a printout of mine! I’d say it would be like one of  those abstract paintings – mad mad mad swirling colours. I write because it puts order on me. The black marks on the white of the page make me focus on the task at hand not meander down the many many byroads that pop up on my path to distract me from the job at hand.

Marina Carr may well be right about writers– I bow to her incredible intellect - but I, for one, KNOW that I write because I have to. It is the only medium through which I can express myself fully.

Now  - off to write………..

  

Where to start.....Life is Beautiful

Right – where do I start? Last weekend was the perfick weekend – in that I had pints with Jemser of the Friday, after swimmin’ with son#2 for (I think) ten lengths.

Then of the Saturday I did Story Queen in Blanch Library to a most appreciative audience.

Then Sunday and Oor Lizzie was christened over in Sandymount – fandabbydouble dozy church, Star of the Sea. Lovely priest and lots of friendly people doing biccies and tea in the now disused old NS beside the Church - lots of lovely chats with lovely Sandymount people. Don Liam Walsheone – the godfather got the pressie so-o-o-o- right – a reconditioned MAGNIFICENT Silver Cross pram. I always said the proudest days of my life were my pram pushing days - I was a Mammy - somebody's favourite person. I miss my pram pushing days. Anyway, I am going to kidnap both pram and baby some day this summer. She will be pushed all around Swords/Malahide/Finglas anywhere I can push her - not very bus friendly the aul' Silver Cross - but deadly suspension. Plus if it's good enough for HRH in Great Britain it's good enough for oor Lizzie. Then off to Roly's Bistro for the christening lunch - feckin' gorgeous. How did the Walshies end up dining in such a gaff? Plus very very reasonable per head. Mind you I wasn't paying, lovely to be with so many family on such a lovely summer's day - and it only March.

Then on Monday I was tortured into coming to the most peaceful place on any planet – the Tyrone Guthrie in Annamakerrig, Newbliss Co Monaghan. God,t'was hard leaving work and housework for a week to come to the most beautiful place on earth (after Port, Co Donegal of course), miss the lads and Jemser and Molly but as I drove up the avenue I felt like I was coming home…I love it. And then to be spoiled rotten by the lovely Lavinia, Robbie, Esther et all - I might have to kill Lavinia though, or at least disable her cooking skills - her desserts are just too scrumptious. I think she might be a devilish imp in disguise tempting me with glorious food. Kidding - how could anyone be cross with Lavinia!

But I did a 6k walk (or ramble) into Newbliss today - the weather was quite simply too beautiful not to go out, I don't care about word count - good days don't come often in this aul' bog we live on. There are Donegal connected Yanks home and they are claiming credit for the weather. I'm glad Anne Behringer and her daughter Debbie's lads got to see Donegal in the sun - they might just keep coming with their own kids in the future. Cherish our 'diaspora' folks - it'll be what saves us financially.

Now - tomorrow Weds is the Confirmation day in son#2's school. He decided last summer he didn't want to make it so I supported him in his decision, but I think he might be feeling a little lonely tomorrow, he misses me (yes - still!) - all of his classmates are having days being spoiled by their families and neighbours (not to mention the cash!) so Jemser and I hatched a plan and they're driving up to meet me in Newbliss for lunch and we might chance a swim in the lake - if son#2 doesn't wimp out!

The work is getting done - just at slightly unusual hours - almost finished treatment for collaborative exercise with Karen Coleman - songwriter supreme, novel #2 taking shape and hatching a lovely plot for novel#3 - a ghost lover in an artist's retreat........h'mm plus polishing a couple of stories and a children's book. And then there's sleep, reading and eating.

Night night.

Fally down socks days..........

Mild grey March morning and I'm sitting in my usual spot in the lovely library in Rush – it really is a fabulous building, if you are ever in North County Dublin you should try visit it. And Skerries Mills. And Ardgillan Castle. And – well, the list is endless. Just visit Fingal on the east coast of Dublin and you’ll find lots to see and do – we’re horrid cultured y’know!

Lots of topics I could blog about today but I decided I’d give you all a laugh about my ‘fally-down socks’ day yesterday.

I had to follow Jemser over to Ashbourne yesterday evening to the garage he has his car serviced in (Rath Service Station-brilliant and Eugene is a sound man, totally recommend him – particularly for Saab and Opel.) I switched to the passenger seat in my car coming home as he drives me mad if I’m driving because he makes me nervous, he’s convinced I’m going to do something wrong – and y’know what Will says ‘Nothing’s either good or bad but thinking makes it so’. So in the interests of marital harmony if we’re both in a car together he drives – unless he needs to sleep – then I can take over. I’m rambling – but I’ll get going now, I promise!

Once I dropped Jemser back to our home I left straight away again – I was due to do an interview with the lovely Debbie on Near 90.3fm in Coolock at 7pm and I was supposed to toddle down to my wonderful songwriting/singer/musician / all round creative person Karen Coleman off the Tonlegee Road (mark my words – this lady is going to be the biggest thing in Ireland and abroad since Imelda May) for a cup of tea and a chat. We both have busy lives and always seem to miss each other at different events so we needed a good old chin wag.

Those of you who know me know I have absolutely no sense of direction. The kids used to say it was an adventure getting into the car with me – because you never knew where you would end up! I drove around and around in circles looking for the big white building that houses the radio station. Eventually it clicked with me that the station was in the shared services Civic offices (great idea Dublin City Council btw, hats off to ye) off the Oscar Traynor road and I pulled into the car park relieved that I was still early. I always add a 15 minute ‘just in case’ into timing any journey when I’m driving.

Had a chat and a laugh with two lovely women in Near 90.3fm, Debbie and Rebecca - this is community radio at its best; they cover all that’s going in the North Dublin ( both city and county) area and its all done by volunteer presenters – they are always looking for volunteers so if interested go here www.near.ie/index.php?option=com_content&task=view...

When we went on air I was a bit nervous so decided I’d just be myself – well a slightly less manic version of myself! I spoke too quickly at first but eventually settled down into a chat with the presenters who put me totally at ease - we could have been sitting in a Starbucks shooting the breeze.We spoke about my writing career to date, the novel I self published (available here www.kennys.ie/ ) and I even plugged my appearances as the Story Queen (voluntary work) in Fingal libraries on Saturday mornings through out the years. I then read a little passage from The Heron's Flood and although my mouth was dry I got through it. A really pleasant experience. So thanks Debbie and Rebecca!

So, at this stage I was looking forward to my chat with Karen and was dying for a cuppa tay. I went looking for my mobile to check the address she had texted to me. No bloody phone. I’m always mislaying it. Typical! I had probably left it on the table at home when I ran in to collect copies of the which I was donating as prizes in a text-in on the station. So – no phone, no directions to house – what do I do? I debated driving back to Swords to get my mobile but didn’t want to be that late for Karen and Anne (Karen's darling Mam.) No, I thought - I’ll find a phone box – ring home and get them to read me out the address on my mobile. Good thinking Batman. ‘Cept I couldn’t find a phone box – I drove around and around and around – nary a one. Where did they all go? Is there some big warehouse somewhere holding hundreds of phone boxes waiting to be recycled as Superman changing rooms or Dr Whos's Tardis? I felt like Robinson Crusoe – shipwrecked in my Opel Corsa in the Donahies/Coolock/Artane area and nary a Man Friday in sight. Mad.

Eventually I pulled into a little row of shops on the Tonlegee Road and stuck my head into a pharmacy to see if they knew where there was such an archaic device as a phone box - are they collectors' items I wonder?. Well d’y know what – I met the three loveliest women there. Not only did they let me use the phone in the shop they even trawled down through their prescription system to see if they could find an address for me – Karen has special needs brothers and would use the chemist a lot. But. I wasn’t sure if Karen’s surname was her maiden name or married name. No answer to the home phone – as per usual - son#1 not there, son#2 installed in front of the PS3 and oblivious to everything but the game he’s playing and the Jemser was sitting in the kitchen with the headphones on listening to his new best friend ‘YouTube’

Right sez I , I’ll try his mobile – which is the only other number I knew off the top of my head. It went to voice mail. Feck. He told me later he doesn’t answer his mobile unless he recognises the number, but later on curiosity got the better of him and he rang the number anywayto see who had called! Those three women must think we are a family of ding-bats!As all my attempts to find the address had failed I decided I’d have to drive back to Swords to collect phone and travel back to Coolock. Story of my life – confusion.com.

But.

As I headed out the Malahide Road I heard a beep beep and in my peripheral vision I spotted a flash of green from the internallittle cubby hole on the passenger's door. The bloody phone had been there all along, I must have popped it in when I switched seats with Jemser in Ashbourne!
So it's all his fault - as bloody per!

Are y’still reading? Fair play – I’d be away to Twitter by paragraph three. I think my blog is like one of those slow cookers as opposed to a pressure cooker! So - I was now fully armed with the addressand I headed off again; but I still went around in circles. Karen can’t give directions and I can’t take them in – we are like two lost souls but we have these magnets y’see and we always find each other in the end! I stopped the car at a little green and phoned her again,

‘I’m coming out the front door’ sez she. ‘Can you see me now?’

‘No,’ sez I, then in the rear view mirror I spotted her walking across the green, phone to ear and barefoot on the grass. Big hugs all round and we adjourned to the comfortable kitchen of her home where Bear – Karen’s ‘to die for’ St Bernard (Old English Sheepdog maybe) took a fancy to me – He’s no Molly so he didn’t end up on my lap but I’d say if I let him he would’ve had a go!. Karen, Anne and I drank cups of tea and chatted about all manner of things. Chats are lovely. Chats and flirtin' make the world go round.Amn't I right?

Karen Coleman is so talented folks – her songs are beautifully crafted and her talent doesn’t end with music she writes really well - particularly dialogue. I love spending time with her – reassuring her that all she has to do is work hard, do the right thing and shine and the Universe will provide. I KNOW THIS AND IT WILL HAPPEN BECAUSE BY SHEER FORCE OF WILL I WILL MAKE IT SO! She needs one tiny bit of luck – one financial backer and a manager to look after the business end of things. She’s tired, needs minding and space to do what she excels at. Plus she’s about to become a granny and Anne a great granny! Isn’t it brilliant – four generations under the one roof. Family.

If I could help her at all, in any way, I would – because I cannot bear to see talent going unrecognised. Ye better all hide your piggy banks because I’m coming on the scrounge!

So that was my Tuesday – interesting wasn’t it . Oh! And I didn’t get lost going home! Now, I'm away - off to give my first ever creative writing workshop - I feel like a little girl starting in Junior Infants - terrified but determined I'm going to be a big girl, not be afraid and JUST DO IT.

Chalk