Hazel McHaffie

conflict

Multi-tasking

I love it when the writing involves solid thinking time. This week the brain’s been working overtime during the night, but I’ve been able to mull over new ideas and possibilities while outwardly tramping in the glorious autumn scenery – simultaneously improving physical fitness and mental spark, and making the most of the light and warmth before winter grabs us by the scruff … yep, they say it’s imminent!

Somehow bright sunshine transforms the view, doesn’t it? and visiting the same place – Penicuik House in Midlothian – on two different days, paid dividends. The 18th century Palladian mansion is a ruin (albeit a very elegant one), destroyed by a fire in 1899, but the grounds are open to the public and the numerous walks are gorgeous at this time of year.

So a few cogitations gleaned from my wanderings …

I’m trying to provide more contrast in my prose – hard lines against the softer aspects, darkly sinister against lightly optimistic. Outwardly the Morgan family have everything … but something is very wrong in their household. Family, professionals, friends are wanting to see the best side of their privilege, but the safety of a baby is at stake here. That conflict/contrast was epitomised in the fabulous colours and outlines in the grounds of Penicuik House.

The storyline needs to beckon the reader on, like these alluring pathways, seducing us with suspected horror, false security. It’s not just the baby’s welfare we’re concerned about here; a marriage is in jeopardy, professional relationships are threatened. But we have to care enough in the first place to stick with the players in this drama, to creep right into their lives, to root for them.

The foreground action needs to have a coherent backstory that rings true but doesn’t intrude. We’re watching the principals but we want to believe in their context, understand why they’re kicking up the leaves, keeping their backs to the light, creating long shadows, hiding things from us.

And that backcloth too, needs to be intriguing enough to draw us in. At once credible but intriguing. And maybe just a bit scary.

After the second long tramp, I was certainly seeing light at the end of my literary tunnel. It may get dark and ominous as we sink down into the psychological mire, but there has to be hope of some kind of resolution to pull us along. The sun goes in every now and then, leaving us floundering in the darkness before we can see our way out of the quandary they present us with. But we’re inching closer to the light all the time.

Phew! Exhausting stuff mentally. But exhilarating physically.

A good week overall on the writing front, then. And more encouraging news … that Sunday BBC psychological thriller I mentioned a few weeks ago – The Cry? … it doesn’t steal my thunder at all. Wahey! No need to re-write my tale. But after watching/analysing/critiquing each episode carefully, I realise that, in a film, so much is conveyed by the actors’ skill – a look, a pause, the tone of a voice. With Killing me Gently, I have to imagine the camera rolling but capture the tension and emotion in my words on the page.

Oh, I nearly forgot … I’ve also finished writing the first draft of the annual McHaffie Christmas story-play. Which reinforces what I’ve just said. The story will be enhanced, and brought to life, indeed, immortalised, by the expressions, the voices, the actions of the players: my grandchildren. They will undoubtedly steal the show! As they should.

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A time for giving

Christmas. Time to make contact. Time to appreciate friends. Time to give gifts. Time for a little gentle reflection …

You’ve probably seen the posters:

Comparing what the season means to us here in the fifth richest country, (foreign visitors please substitute your own ranking), with what it will bring for those people caught up in world conflicts and humanitarian crises, it’s all too easy to sink beneath a burden of injustice, maybe even guilt, isn’t it? We see the horrors everyday on our screens, in our papers; our contributions feel all too meagre. Today, however, I don’t want to dwell on the depressing aspects of our global inequalities, rather I want to send out a positive message.

Let’s go back to the beginning of my thinking … I read somewhere (can’t now remember where) that David Cameron is charging £120,000 per hour to give talks about Brexit. That’s £2,000 per minute. Hello? He was only getting £143,462 per annum when he was running the country! – OK, I know, I know, that was his basic salary; he had sundry other substantial incomes alongside that. And don’t get me started on the obscene salaries sportspeople earn rake in, or models, or … Yes, yes, you get the picture.

Instead, let’s turn to face in another direction, and consider the unsung heroes in our society; contrast their incomes with £2,000 per minute.
The average wage for a carer patiently looking after our elderly and demented relatives, is £7.25 an hour.
A school teacher educating our precious children gets a starting salary of £19,600.
A qualified nurse with our lives in her hands can expect to take home £21,692 a year at the start of her career.
A fully competent trained fireman putting his own life on the line will get £29,345.
I could go on.

They aren’t on the front cover of glossy magazines, they aren’t being pursued by the paparazzi for celebrity shots, they aren’t winning Nobel prizes, they aren’t wowing us with their luxury homes/yachts/cars/handbags/jewels, they aren’t attracting mega bucks. No, but they are helping to create/preserve the caring society I want for my children and grandchildren. They are making the world a better place. Indeed many of them will be looking after our relatives and friends instead of being at home with their own loved ones this Christmas. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by such people, ordinary folk doing extraordinary things, and I see at first hand the extra miles they go, the difference they make, the quiet satisfaction they get from a job well done. I want to take this opportunity to comprehensively salute them all and wish them joy and contentment, not just at this festive time, but every day.

As Tiny Tim would say, ‘God bless them, every one!’

Let’s all resolve in the coming year to truly value excellence, dedication, selflessness and service.

 

 

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Peace on earth

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

Blessings of the season to you all, whatever your beliefs, creeds or circumstances.

To those whose hearts ache today, I pray you will in time find a measure of peace.

For those who are lonely and troubled, in conflict or terror, may 2012 bring unexpected solace and hope.

To those whose lives are full and exciting, I wish you continuing happiness. May your dreams be realised.

God bless you all.

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