On This Day…
…in 2012 I received news that my grandmother had passed away in Damascus. She had been the glue that held us all together and her passing away coincided with a time when our world seemed to be changing in ways we’d never imagined. A revolution and wars in Syria swept away our previous lives to the point where things would be almost unrecognisable to her today. This morning I woke up early to prepare the milk for Dani and get the coffee running. My wife had timed the washing to finish at around six am, and I proceeded to hang it to dry. At that moment, I remembered something about my gran.
Every morning in the winter, she’d wake up before sunrise to fire up our metal kerosene heater - called a Sobia, or soba - so that the house was warm when we woke up. She did that without fail for as long as I could remember. Snuggled up under the warm duvet, I could hear her slippers shuffling on the floor as she went about the house getting things ready and filling up the mazot from the massive barrel container we had in the back balcony into a plastic container. Then pouring it patiently into the heater before lighting a paper and dropping it inside it. The heater had a small porthole through which we could see the blue flame dancing about, and the metal groaned and clanked as the device burned into life. At night we would roast chestnuts and orange peels on the top of it and the house would smell amazing. Such mundane times and yet they feel so magical and remote in my memory.
Rest In Peace, Tete. I still remember you…
The Dreaded Novel Re-Write
I know in my bones that the novel will get stronger with a re-write, but I haven’t got a clue where to begin. A few days ago, I was rearing to go. I started up Scrivener, moved my old novel folder into a draft and helpfully renamed it to draft ‘0.9’ - the idea being that I am edging closer to version ‘1’ (a throwback to my days working in Information Technology). I then created three folders, calling them Act One, Act Two, and Act Three. Great stuff. I felt I was on the right track.
Fast forward forty-eight hours later, and I’m looking at this new draft folder and my mind draws a blank. It’s 6:20 am, my coffee is half drunk, and I can’t seem to think of anything. I run a search on Google, “How to ReWrite Your Novel” and come up with tonnes of blogs all filled with wonderfully vague bullet points that say a lot without helping. The answer isn’t going to be out there.
I’m so tired of this novel, and self-doubt is creeping in. Was it all a waste of time? Were people humouring me when they said it’s a cool idea? I don’t know. Part of me wants to toss it all in the bin and move on. The other says I’ve worked on this for so long, that I can’t give up at this last hurdle. No clue what to do next…