I'm movin' to feckin' Leitrim.....

I'm cheating, I wrote this last week when I should have been working on novel#2, but sometimes you have to take a break from your characters. Do your bloody head in some of them. So here you are or should it be there ye go...........


I’m movin’ to feckin’ Leitrim


I swear to God I’m only here three days and I am selling my house in Dublin, giving up me safe little job and moving lock, stock and barrel down here.

It has it all – Carrick –On–Shannon is a vibrant little town, great shops, pubs, restaurants, a vibrant Arts scene – its own river and the gorgeous countryside. I know Jemser will love it (I haven’t told him yet so don’t ask him about it!) I have to suss out the pubs, trad music scene and Irish conversational groups and golf courses first.

Son #2 will LOVE it – its a smaller community, lots of kids his age, smaller class sizes and a willingness in the community to recognise and care for those little geniuses among us. He’ll get over all his little fears, make pals, play football for a smaller club made up of kids who want to be there. We’ll go swimming regularly too. He’ll lose weight and the shop isn’t there tempting him all the time. We’ll be able to buy a house big enough that he can have his own kid’s area and have mates over doing the annoying things ten year olds do. Sorted.

I’ll be able to stop working and write fulltime. I’ll be able to run into Carrick when I need to get my fix of old and rare books (I found THE BEST BOOKSHOP, Trinity Books). When the sisters or brothers need time out from their busy lives they can come visit and chill.

Now I know damn well that Son #2 will be a problem – he’s sixteen with a wide circle of friends, but he might very well come around to the idea. I’ll have to cheat him into it SO DON’T TELL him. I have a sly plan formulating. I would have put Donegal as No. 1 choice of somewhere to live outside of Swords – but the journey from Dublin is still a killer. At least Leitrim is only two to two and a half hours – doable. And the train comes to Carrick-On-Shannon.

Don’t you just love it when a plan is coming together. Now, where’s me cheque book………………

Leitrim#2.......

I blethered away all week in Leitrim and 'twas great because 'twas all silent bletherin' and now yiz have to read it all. I had no access to d'Internet so it was all words written into the mist.

And what a mist. I love the silence in Leitrim and Roscommon, Sligo, Galway and Donegal and lots of other pockets of our island nation. The silence is so - dense - I can almost taste it. I can listen through the silence hurting and find freedom on the other side. So, here goes - Leitrim blog#2.


A friend – a marvellous singer/songwriter recently told me that it is said that self-doubt is part of the creative mindset. At least I think that’s what she said.

But then I had to work out, was I a self-doubting creative person or just deluded?

This was a tricky one. When the umpteenth rejection letter comes in the door, wishing me well with my writing but it’s not for us today thank you, it is another little dream crushed. You need a bloody thick skin in this creative game. Because you’re never EVER going to know if you’re a self-doubting creative genius or just simply crackers and managing to fool some of the poor eejits around you into believing in you some of the time.

I wonder is that how Jesus felt when he headed off to the desert for forty days and nights. Now relax - I'm not claiming a Jesus complex ( my son does that for me). but Lord save us, it must have been hard being the Galilean, trying to work out was he deluded or not. And perhaps he was.

He didn’t invent Christianity of course – some other eejits did that after he was gone. Men.

He just wanted us all to be nice to each other, get back to what matters – namely each other and our environment and to break bread with each other - in other words love the people you eat with, the people who sustain your life. And above bloody all to get money OUT of the temple.

But dynasties of misogynistic homophobic males ( sorry lads, I'm sure some of you were/are nice) got greedy for all the power and the trappings of such power and forgot what it was all about. Then - whenever somebody calls them to account for themselves they say
‘Not at all!!! Sure, the Pope’s infallible – he can do no wrong, cannot make a mistake, is the voice of the Divine, so we’re always right. No doubt. No room for doubt. And tell them all they can like it or lump it.'

Sorry lads, I have a feeling we’re all about to tell you to lump it.

The Leitrim air must be getting to me. I’m philosophising again. An hour or two of ‘House’ and a good old read will help. Aah yes. The Good Life.

Lovely Leitrim.........

Here I am in the wilds of Leitrim with my laptop, my bum glue and the second series of ‘House’ plus the dvd ‘Life is Beautiful’. These things and the radio will be my only companions for the next week. So I’ll only be blogging, facebooking, emailing and net-surfing for ONE HOUR every evening. Apart from that I’m hiding the broadband modem stick or whatever it’s called, staying in my pyjamas and forcing myself to write at least forty thousand words of novel#2 this week.

The whole bloody novel is plotted, I have family trees for all my characters, I know what’s in their handbags/pockets for God's sake and I still procrastinate. The ironing must be done. I better weed that flower bed. The weigelia needs pruning or I’ll just go for a walk or maybe I’ll just finish this chapter and I really must watch the omnibus edition of whatever soap I happen to come across or I suppose I better feed my family etcetera etcetera. It is endless. Is it fear? Laziness? A combination maybe?

Because every time I open up a notebook or a blank screen sits looking at me - cursor winking in the left-hand corner I am seized with the most awful, wonderful feeling. This could be shite or this could be really, really good. It could sing. It could embrace the reader. It could turn the reader off books for life. The power! The power! Gobshite…me, not you!

I’m involved in the local panto this year with Magic Caarpet Theatre Company and the script by the talented Mr Alan Cash is brilliant. It zips along, busy, busy, busy. Extremely funny and snappy. We sat chatting after rehearsals last week and all agreed how important that first show a child sees is. If that show is good, production values high and it is as professional as limited means allow then you have that kid hooked on theatre for life. Even if they only go once a year, it’s different, it’s live, it’s not X Factor or Big Brother.

I think the same applies to books, give a child stories by the likes of Martin Waddell when they are toddling and you will hook them in to the joys of quality reading. That never ever goes away, they may drift away from it at some stage but they’ll always come back. Reading is such a solitary occupation. Just you and your book. Special time.

That’s why I have to make my book the best I can make it. No pressure then. Me free hour is up . Goodbye!