funding for writing

I’ve just found out that I can apply for funding from Creative New Zealand – what a fantastic opportunity! But why did I not know about this before? Why did no one tell me? Arrrrrrgh! No, it’s entirely my fault, I should have somehow found out about it. This is my perennial problem – if I spend my precious spare time finding out about funding, competitions (last year was the first time I’d applied for any for ages), adapting chapters into short stories to submit to writing magazines etc, then I’m not writing my novel.

If I took time away from my novel to do these things, it would actually help my writing – not my writing itself, but what I call the PR for it. And, as workplaces love to say nowadays, perception is everything. This may be true, but it also makes me hopping mad. It’s a fancy way of saying that it’s all about the packaging, and I find this a depressingly superficial and dishonest priority. I always knew I should have been born a century earlier. Ahhh, 1907 – that was a grand year.

I’m off to listen to my “Dreamy” compilation cd (that I wasted an entire weekend putting together – talk about task evasion!) of my favourite pieces by Liszt, Chopin, Satie and Debussy – that’ll put me right, calm me down and put me in the mood for writing some more Colette….

The Colette chapter of my novel Nights in Paris is growing nicely, I’m trying to get into her mind and understand how she could have simultaneous relationships with both Missy and Willy – as well as various affairs on the way. Honestly, what is it with Colette and Anais, my favourite writers, being so chronically unfaithful? I mean, with Missy, yes, but Willy, that big moustached boar of a man? He must have had hidden talents…. now there’s an idea…..

The Slave of Bracelets

The Slave of Bracelets, my story that won a writing prize, was published on 31 December. I stood outside the dairy (newsagent), almost ripping the newspaper open in impatience… where is it? where is it? and what illustration have they used? (I was more worried about that than anything else) but — ohmygoodness, there it is, my story, and there I am, with my plunging cleavage sadly cut out of the photo, but that’s alright, you can see my glittery scarf, okay, it’s not too bad, and WOW LEGS! The picture they have used is a close-up of a pair of stockinged legs and a hint of suspender belt, and the model is wearing the cutest 1930s black shoes with ribbons and those wonderful curving heels. It is gorgeous, it is PERFECT. I breathe again and walk home grinning, insanely happy.

The story is on the Sunday Star Times website — just search under my name or The Slave of Bracelets. I do love my title!

So, merry xmas, happy chanukah and happy New Year! I totally forgot about chanukah (again) —my mother sent me some candles but i don’t have a chanukiah to put them in! I keep meaning to try and find one (altho’ goodness knows where from), as I’ve been meaning to get one for the past 5 years or more. It’s only when actually need one that I remember that I have to get one – as soon as chanukah is over I forget… until next year! If it was possible to get thrown out of the Jewish club, I would be well and truly out the door. But it’s not totally my fault: as Daffyd might say, if he was from Brent Cross rather than Wales, it’s hard being the only Jewish person in the village!