Roll up, roll up

If you dropped by for a coffee, you would find this picture on the board in our kitchen. A lovely friend in Dublin sent this to me ages ago, and it reassures me that someone else has also had this thought. Don't know about you, but I did not know I could shout until I became a mother. I am at heart a calm, patient person, don't thrive on conflict, but it is the lack of space I think that gets to me at times (like this morning - dog stole special blanky, breakfast hysteria). Not quite a gin on the cornflakes moment, but getting close on the stress-o-meter. It is the sheer physical exhaustion, the stuff everywhere, the push and pull, the scrapping and shouting and the relentless knife edge anxiety isn't it - (how many times can you tell someone not to slam doors near small fingers, run towards traffic, climb teetering furniture)? Is it the same for you? Sometimes when I look at my children (often when they are asleep - isn't that funny?), my heart overflows with love for them. Other times as the day swings between mind numbing repetition and peaks of high emotion, I can empathise with Sylvia Plath. Every day has the same shape, the same relentless challenges - 'say please and thank you,' 'please don't put the phone down the loo again,' 'please don't lick the plates in the dishwasher' (the last one was for the hound). With the pilot away so much these days and no help it feels sometimes like I am attempting and failing to control a three ring circus with the daredevil toddler, six year old and hound as the main attractions while I am juggling house, family, work, writing frantically on the sidelines (in a clown suit?). Sometimes don't you just wish you could drop all the balls and say 'Sorry, Mummy is off to Mexico ...'

Beyond all this are the books waiting to be written ... Stayed up late last night plotting and moulding and shaping - amazing how the time flows when you are working (and so it felt like the middle of the night when the toddler bounced into bed at 6.30am 'Euuugh! Big!' trans: Good Morning Mama, please change my nappy'). I love the next book, am so excited by the idea of it - it is going to be big, more like the length of the first book than the second: three love stories, three generations of women stretching from the Spanish Civil War to the present day. Articles are one thing - these I can pull off around the children and the day job, but for this novel I need space, and calm and the ability to think in a straight line. I need a parallel life in other words. I need to earn this - the first book has to buy me this privilege, the chance to write another one ... Catch 22.

There are tricks I have learned though, to keep you fresh and tuned into your work when everything else is whirling around you. One of the best quick fixes if you are feeling stuck and unable to get back into the rhythm of your work is to try Bantus. They are fast two line free-form exchanges - the results can be extraordinary. The link is to a Writer's Digest article that explains the principle better than I could as my brain is not in gear this morning. I've been using bantus for years and they have helped more than I can say. Why not give it a try today - take your notebook to the playground, look around you and see what responses your observations spark off. It is a glorious day here - we are off out to the forest for a picnic to let off some steam and remind ourselves we can have fun together. May just take my own advice and bring a notebook.

So - have a good writing day, and thanks for dropping by. Amazing to see we have been joined by new readers in Australia, Iraq, Czech Republic, Sweden, Holland and that the blog is being read in so many languages. I really appreciate how many of you are becoming regulars - thank you. May we all have a relaxing, productive day (takes deep breath). With so much up in the air at the moment I am trying very, very hard with this whole meditation and Deepak Chopra thing ... it used to work. But then, that was another lifetime - I could go off to yoga and pilates, choose to get up early and write before heading into the gallery (where every day was not the same and you got to talk to grown ups about fascinating things). I just made the mistake of flicking through the diary and seeing exactly how long the summer holiday is. How will we all get through? Answers on a postcard or in the comment box please.