I almost cheated with this week’s blog post and just shared this as I eek out these final few precious hours.
But, after two and a bit weeks of going nowhere, seeing no one (with a couple of exceptions), doing very little, practicing yoga (I’m not very good), sitting in the sun (much better at doing that), reading, writing, journaling, listening to music, going for long walks and the occasional beer or wine or two, I thought I’d share this instead… the edited highlights of Staycation 2022.
As I reflected on the past two weeks, a wee voice muttered in my ear that I’d wasted ten precious days of annual leave from the salt mine then another little voice reminded me that sometimes doing “nothing” and speaking to very few folk is exactly what your body and mind are telling you that they need to do.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve blogged along a similar theme in the past but bear with me.
Last week I shared Book Baby 7 aka Riley’s front cover with the world. (Here it is in case you missed it – Riley…..cover reveal | Coral McCallum) The reaction to it has been great so thank you but here comes the confession… the story still isn’t quite finished yet. Oops!
I’m not a million miles away from being finished. I mean, what’s a few thousand words between friends?
For me, writing timescales are quite fluid. Writing happens when it happens. The joys of being an indie author. The only person setting word count targets and manuscript deadlines for me is me. And, you know what, that works for me just now.
Creativity is something that’s always there. Even when I’m not actively creating/writing something, there’s that wee part of my brain whirring away with ideas/thoughts/potential characters.
Creativity is also a great coping mechanism in this manic world that we live in. It’s an escape from reality. It’s a way to create a better/alternative reality. It’s a way to express our thoughts and feelings. It’s a way of telling a story.
Humans have been storytellers since the start of time. There was no one sitting in the cave or around the campfire saying that the storyteller needed to stick to a certain length/word count, or a structured formula for the story. There were no paragraph and chapter plans. There probably weren’t that many titles either. Storytellers simply told their stories and over time and re-telling these stories were embellished and enhanced and improved upon or discarded depending on the audience’s reaction.
No one back then worried about having qualifications in creative writing or language or literature.
Folks simply told the stories that were within them to tell.
I follow several groups on social media for authors/writers/bloggers and all too frequently you see aspiring storytellers’ dreams quashed because someone insists that their story is too short/too long, that they need a professional editor that they probably can’t afford or that they need a professionally designed cover that they can’t afford either…you get the picture.
Creative souls are sensitive souls. They need to be nurtured and encouraged. This world needs more storytellers.
So, my message to any aspiring authors/writers/storytellers is simple – tell your story your way and in your own time and enjoy telling it.
Just write! And keep on writing.
And on that note, I’d better turn my creative attention back to my unfinished book baby.
The first professional performance of an Andrew Lloyd Webber show that I saw was Phantom of the Opera at the Manchester Opera House circa 1993/94. I fell in love with the show, so much so that we used some of the music at our wedding. (All I Ask Of You, just in case you were curious.)
Manchester Opera House was also the first opera house that I had visited. We had gone with a friend who had bought the tickets at the last minute. The seats were high up in “the Gods” and in fact we were so high up that we were above the chandelier!
Over the years, I’ve seen the show several times, including twice in London where we were seated right beneath the chandelier’s path and were so close, we felt the draft as it swung past!
This year, as I explored out options for places to visit while we were in Paris, the Palais Garnier caught my eye. It was the first tour that I booked. In fact, our whole schedule ended up dictated by when we could do that tour and it was in fact the first of the trip.
So, what’s the connection? Where’s she going with this? I hear you muttering.
The Palais Garnier, the National Opera of Paris, was the inspiration behind Gaston Leroux’s novel The Phantom Of The Opera.
Now, I’m not about to turn this into a history lesson…whew!… but its impossible to write about the Palais Garnier without including the basics, so humour me please.
According to our tour guide, prior to the Palais Garnier being commissioned, opera houses in Paris were built from wood. They were lit by oil lamps and/or candles and as you can imagine were prone to burning down. In 1860, Napoleon III launched a competition to design a new opera house for the city. The competition was won by the then unknown architect, Charles Garnier. In fact, according to our lovely guide, it was his first commission. In 1861 construction began. Garnier designed everything himself as well as personally selecting the collaborating artists and sculptors. The opera house was finally completed in 1875. Napoleon III never visited his opera house. He died two years before it was completed.
The result is stunning both inside and out!
We entered the building to meet our tour guide via the entrance that was reserved in the past for season ticket holders, finding ourselves in an ornate vaulted rotunda, themed along the signs of the zodiac. Our guide led us through to the grand staircase, past the beautiful statue Pythonisse by Marcello.
The grand staircase is breathtakingly ornate. There are 30 different kinds of marble and stone involved in its construction. It doesn’t take much imagination to visualise the Paris elite of the 19th century sweeping up and down the marble stairs in their finery. I felt suitably under-dressed in my t-shirt, crop trousers and converse!
The main auditorium is stunning in its red and gold colour scheme. Red was chosen as that’s the colour that was most flattering to a lady’s complexion and ladies came to the opera house to be seen and admired by potential suitors. Its in here that the main inspiration for Leroux’s novel can be found. The theatre is steeped in history but let’s dispel a couple of myths.
There is no lake under the opera house. There is however a huge water tank/cistern to help balance out the weight of the building which was constructed on swampy ground.
The 7 tonnes chandelier is beautiful but its never fallen to the ground. But, in 1896, one of the lead counterweights fell. The 300lbs weight landed on a woman in the audience. As our guide quipped “she became a crepe”. The poor unsuspecting woman had been sitting in seat #13.
As for the phantom himself, he’s never been seen but box #5 is kept empty…just in case.
We were unable to see the full stage during our tour as it was being readied for the opening of Fin de Partie, an opera adapted from Endgame by Samuel Beckett. Our guide informed us that the stage is one of the largest in Europe and reaches a height of 65m. The Arc de Triumph would apparently fit on it!
The ceiling of the auditorium is a bit of a bone of contention with many Parisians. The original ceiling painting was replaced in the 1960’s by a new bright modern one by Chagall. It’s not popular and is noticeably out of keeping with the rest of the theatre. The good news is that the original still lies beneath it… funding just needs to be found to restore it. There’s a small replica of it on display and having seen it, I truly hope that funds can be found to restore the original artwork as Garnier intended it to be seen.
The most spectacular room in the opera house is without a doubt the Grand Foyer hall. Entering it really was a WOW moment. The room is 18m high, 154 m in length and 13 m wide and is as ornate if not more so as the palace at Versailles. This was effectively the opera house’s drawing room. The gold and mirrors accentuate the size and I honestly think it’s the most impressive room I have ever been in. The Grand Foyer also affords access to the opera house’s balcony and offers an uninterrupted view down Avenue de l’Opera.
As our guide explained, visiting the opera was more about being seen to be there than to watch the performance. The show was almost incidental. This need to be seen extends beyond the stone walls of the Palais Garnier. The Avenue de l’Opera is the only one of the city’s main thoroughfares to be void of trees, allowing a clear view for those watching of the people arriving and leaving the opera house.
During our short stay in Paris, we passed the Palais Garnier daily. (It was across the street from our hotel, so it was hard to miss it.)
On our last morning in the city before our taxi to the airport arrived to collect us, we went for one final walk round the opera house’s perimeter. As I stole a last look up at the balcony, I could just imagine the phantom watching from the window of the Grand Foyer, searching for Christine among the throngs of tourists outside.
For more info on the Palais Garnier see links below
Deliberately, I’ve mentioned very little about Covid 19 on this blog as I felt for the past two years it was dominating all other avenues of life and I wanted to keep my blog as a “safe” space.
However, today seems like a good moment to pause and reflect.
I took the above photo at about 7:10am on 23 March 2020, roughly twelve hours before the UK went into its first lockdown.
For the previous few weeks, news of this virus from China had dominated conversation. I mean, who had heard of Wuhan before February 2020? Not me. There were anxious conversations, scary news stories, sensational headlines in the press and then, like a scene from 1984, the TV broadcast that the nation will recall for decades as we were all told, like naughty children, to “stay at home”.
I remember having coffee with a friend a few days beforehand during our lunchbreak at work. They asked me if I thought this virus was something to worry about and how long did I think it would last for. Both of us were growing slightly concerned; both of us a little unsure of where this situation was headed and neither of us were able to answer those simple questions.
It’s a conversation I’ve revisited in my mind many times since. If only we had known then what we know now….
Today the last of the Covid 19 laws were lifted with the Scottish “mask laws” becoming “mask guidance” so it feels like a fitting moment to pause for breath and to reflect on the past 756 days of a life lived under various lockdowns and Covid restrictions.
It feels like an appropriate moment to take stock and to think back on all the challenges we faced and survived; the emotions surrounding the impact of the various levels of restrictions that have been forced onto our everyday existence; the impact on our mental health (as Ruby Wax said, and I paraphrase – we all have mental health but some of us are in better shape than others, just like with our physical health); the impact on our relationships with friends and family; the effects that these past 756 days have had on children ( a friend posted just yesterday about how proud she is of her son for rediscovering his mojo after two tough years – yes kids have been feeling it too!); the changes that have altered the way we do our jobs on a day-to-day basis (how did we get through the working day pre-2020 without half a dozen zoom meetings a day?)…
You get the hint…so I’ll leave you to take a moment or two to reflect on the impact the past 756 days have had on you personally. Everyone’s journey from then until now is unique and there’s been no one straight road to follow.
I took this photo today from the same spot. The sun is shining. The sky’s blue. The trees are in bud. The landscape looks the same.
But I don’t think any of us are the same people we were on the morning of 23 March 2020. Do you?
These past two years have touched our lives in so many ways that they’ve left their mark and I suspect it’s a mark that will remain for many years to come.
I know personally speaking, life will never be the same.
To quote from an Alter Bridge song though-
Cause the sun always sets, the moon always falls It feels like the end, just pay no mind at all And keep on rolling, rolling, life must go on It must go on
I’m going to start with an apology. I promised when I shared my last author newsletter that I’d get better at writing these in a more timely manner. Eh… I’ve failed miserably as the last newsletter was 11 months ago!
I’m not even going to hint at a future schedule for these author updates…let’s just go with the flow!
My primary focus for the past year has been Book Baby 7. I’m still working on the first draft and progress has been made in fits and starts as the real world has been eating into my precious creative time. When I started Book Baby 7 on 1st February 2021, I promised myself that I wouldn’t rush it and would take my time and I have. I’m still on track with the timeframe I have in my head for its release. The storyline is more or less on track too!
Watch this space for an announcement about it on 9th March 2022.
So, what else have I been busy with over the past few months? (I use the term “few” loosely! LOL)
Well, I have introduced my Continue The Story blogs. If you missed the introduction last July, here’s the first short story.
Towards the end of the year, I was in a reflective mood as I recalled some of my favourite childhood stories. So many precious childhood memories of bedtime stories… it was hard to choose just a few for this post
I’m hoping my alter ego will be allowed out to play more often this year but time will tell on that. My first 3 shows of 2022 have already had to be rescheduled for further down the line. C’est la vie!
Everyone’s favourite dark angel has made several appearances on my blog since my last newsletter with her most recent being in January in time for the full moon. All of the parts of Silently Watching can be found in the Fiction – Short Stuff tab. (They are numbered)
And that pretty much brings us up to date. The edited creative highlights of the past 11 months!
In between all of this, I have still been meandering daily (well, as often as the delightful Scottish weather allows) and recharging the batteries of my soul with the sounds of nature. These daily walks allow me headspace time to develop storylines and to ponder plot dilemmas so who knows who or what I’ll come up with!
All that’s left to say is thank you from the bottom of my heart for your ongoing support. It really is appreciated and as I’ve said before, every kind word fuels the fires of creativity.
Stay safe. Take care.
Till next time… happy reading.
Love n hugs
Coral xx
If you’ve missed book babies 1-6, you can find them on Amazon worldwide
I wasn’t going to post about setting goals for this year. To be honest, it felt a bit old hat then I read the quote on my shower gel bottle this morning. It got me thinking but still I felt hesitant about writing a 2022 goals blog… then I saw the above post shared in a group on Facebook and thought “F**k it! Why am I doubting myself here?”
So, here goes…
Creatively there’s one key goal to be achieved this year and that’s to complete and publish “Book Baby 7”. I promised myself when I started writing it on 1 Feb 2021 that I would take my time with it and allow myself to be quite relaxed about the deadlines for it. I wanted to enjoy writing it and didn’t want it to feel like something that had to be done. Anyone who knows me personally, knows I don’t do “relaxed” so that’s a challenge or goal all to itself! Tentatively, I’m aiming for a September publication date. I promise to share more details soon.
I’m not really one for New Year’s resolutions. I’m not a “New Year, New You” kind of person ( too much of a creature of habit for that) but as we tip toe quietly through 2022 ( don’t want to disturb it too much in case it bites us the same as 2020 and 2021 did), I hope that some of the blogs that I write and share will perhaps inspire others to maybe read something new or to create something of their own or take more pleasure from spending time outdoors. (Yes, my meandering approach to this blog is set to continue.) Or perhaps I just hope to give folk something to read as they take a break from the daily grind and relax with a mug of coffee.
I’m unapologetically going to keep on being me.
I hope you’ll all join me on this journey through 2022. There’s no promises of what it will bring but let’s keep moving forwards and see where it takes us.
love n hugs
Coral xx
“Dreams get us started; discipline keeps us going” – my mantra/motto
Eight years…. Has it really been eight years since I created this blog? Apparently.
I remember sitting down to write that first post clearly. (In case you’re a little late to the party, here’s the link to it Deep Breaths and Begin | Coral McCallum)
I remember the fear more than anything else. Would anyone want to read my blog? Would I be able to sustain posting once a week? What if I made a total fool of myself? What if folk laughed at me for creating a blog?
Every insecurity in the book was rattling through me!
Now, as I sit here eight years down the line, on the cusp of a new year, many of these insecurities are still rattling through me. Yes, I am still scared to let people read what I write. Yes, I do still fret about whether anyone would want to read what I write. Every time I hit “publish” on a blog post, a wave of fear crashes through me- some are little gentle waves; others are the kind surfers would die to ride.
When I started my blog, my first book baby was still in its early stages. At that time, having my name on the cover of a book still felt like an impossible dream but, here we are, six books later and with number seven on the way. (Yes, I know I’ve been saying that for months but it’s coming! Hopefully, it’s coming in Autumn 2022. No, I’m not quite ready to reveal its name…not yet.)
This blog has evolved over the years too, hopefully for the better. I’ve kept my word. I’ve posted at least once a week every week. (OK a few of those were “cheat” blogs that were barely more than a photo and a few words when life’s been a tad manic, and I don’t promise that there won’t be more of those to come.) If you’ve missed a few posts, they are all still there. (You can find them all in the Archives on the right.) The tabs along the top of the page split out the poems and short stories from the rest of the ramblings and the shop tab speaks for itself. (Hint…check it out if you’ve not read the Silver Lake series or Ellen.) There are even a few author newsletters too.
This year, I bit the bullet and changed the domain to www.coralmccallum.co.uk That was a bit of a surreal moment – I’m a .co.uk! LOL
As I have chased my dreams and pursued this creative journey, perhaps I’ve evolved too. I’ll leave that thought there….
So, what will 2022 hold? After the “delights” of the past two years, I’m almost scared to ask! I think I want to read the T’s & C’s carefully before I sign up to 2022!
What I do know though is that it will bring more blog posts, introduce you to more characters, showcase more photographic efforts and continue my musings and meandering as I chase those rainbows and dreams.
To all of you, especially those loyal souls who have been with me since the start, thank you from the bottom of my heart for continuing to support my creative pursuits. I couldn’t do it without you. Your kind words, the “likes” on my author Facebook page (Coral McCallum | Facebook), the reviews of my book babies on Amazon and Good Reads, they all help to fuel the fires of creativity.
All that’s left to say is all the best for 2022 when it arrives. May it be kind to us all. Stay safe.
The notebook I use for writing out the first drafts of my blogs is down to its last blank page.
Time to find a new notebook.
And perhaps also time for a writer’s confession – I have a minor addiction to “nice” notebooks (and pens). I just can’t resist them.
The second part of the issue is that I usually deem the notebooks “too good” to use.
The time had come though … I needed to “sacrifice” one for the benefit of future blog posts.
“NO!” I hear you cry. “Keep them good. Don’t write any more blogs!”
I keep my stash of notebooks in the cupboard under my desk. So, carefully, I pulled them all out, taking great care not to dislodge everything else that’s crammed in there and cause a monumental creative avalanche.
I found five… and a packet of pens I never knew I had.
Decision time… which one to choose?
Oh, decisions…decisions…
And I chose this one.
Then I opened it…DAMN! I’ve already used that one!
Back to the drawing board or maybe I should just buy another one. Afterall, those other four are “too good” to use. 😉
Last Wednesday, I spent the day in Glasgow shopping with my Girl Child. We did the usual mother/daughter things- coffee, shopping, lunch, more shopping. After so many long, restricted months, it was nice to just meander through the shops, masks on, doing something that felt “normal.”
One of our last stops of the day was Paperchase. I love that shop. As a writer ,what’s not to love – notebooks, journals, pens… oh I was in seventh heaven! I was also looking for a specific journal as a gift. As I searched for it, I spied this lonely book lying on the shelf. It wasn’t what I was looking for, wasn’t what I was planning to buy but it spoke to me… no, more accurately, it screamed at me! I bought it. (Well, it was the only one left and it looked lonely…. and well it had pleaded with me…)
I’ll confess, creatively of late, I’ve struggled. Progress with Book Baby 7 has been painfully slow. For once, I actually have a clear idea of its storyline but putting pen to paper and stringing some sensible words together just hasn’t been happening. This isn’t writer’s block as such but more like burn out. The batteries were totally flat.
As I shared on here last week, I knew I needed a rest. And you know what? For once, I listened to myself.
I’m in the middle of my two-week 2021 Staycation. Week one has been hot and sunny (I love the sun!) and I’ve barely been indoors. After months of working in my living room, I can honestly say I’ve hardly set foot in it for 10 days. I’ve walked, I’ve run, I’ve practiced my yoga, I’ve listened to music, I’ve shopped, I’ve relaxed in the sun, and I’ve read and read and read (I’m on book 4 for this staycation). Apart from last week’s blog, I’ve not written a word.
Having bought the Continue the Story journal, it lay abandoned on my desk for three days before I picked it up and flicked through its pages. They whispered encouragingly…. I picked up a pencil, selected my prompt and tentatively tested the waters….
If you can’t read my handwritten scrawls, here’s the typed version of the short piece I wrote last night.
She’d waited a lifetime to see this view. Well, it felt like a lifetime- a hundred lifetimes! All those long cold months dreaming of this moment. Those endless dark depressing days where thoughts of this moment were the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. The hours she had spent breathing stale clinical air, imagining it was clean salty ocean air.
As she’d sat on the plane the ay before, she’d fretted that she’d done the wrong thing. Was it too soon? What if the kids needed her? Would the cats be ok? Was four weeks too long to be away?
Despite her exhaustion, jet lag had kicked in. She’d been wide awake in the strange bed at 4am. With no one to answer to, no one to tip toe around for, she’d got up, showered and dressed, throwing on a vest tee, shorts then, as an afterthought, her Hard Rock Café hoodie. Slipping her bare feet into her flip flops, the key and her phone into her pocket, she left her rental apartment.
The pre-dawn air was still and cool. In a few short strides, she was across the worn planks of the boardwalk and heading down the nearest path. The sand felt icy cold on her feet as it flowed over her flip flops. Kicking them off, she padded down the beach towards the ocean.
Gentle waves lapped ashore. Sitting down on the soft sand out of reach of the waves, she hugged her knees and let out a long sigh as the sun started to rise above the horizon. Her pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
The creative batteries aren’t quite fully re-charged yet but they’re getting there.
Coral McCallum 