The Romance At Camden-Place

I’d seen films based on Jane Austen’s novels, but had not read any of her books, that is until I experienced Persuasion.

Now I can appreciate the literary legend that is Jane Austen.

To be honest, I wasn’t fully captivated until I hit chapter 9, where Anne Elliott is in a room with her nephew Walter, as well as Captain Wentworth and Charles Hayter. Little Walter is misbehaving:

She spoke to him, ordered, entreated, and insisted in vain. Once she did contrive to push him away, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back again directly.
“Walter,” said she, “get down this moment. You are extremely troublesome. I am very angry with you.”

But not a bit did Walter stir.

In another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being released from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent down her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew that Captain Wentworth had done it.

It’s totally out of context I know; but I refer to it because it was the first point in the novel where I found myself feeling astonished, and compelled to read more.

I loved reading about the union of Elliott & Wentworth – it was exhilarating; I felt fuzzy and old-fashioned in a fabulous kind of way, happy to be involved as a reader, and I wanted to run home to Hubby and do something romantic in the spirit of the story!

The Look Of The Nook

At this point in my life I am still not writing as easily as I would like – meaning that it doesn’t take much for me to get distracted. The last time I was above that was back in the Brisbane days when my lifestyle was different to what it is now.

In the two years that we have lived in our home, my little writing area has moved many times – always in an effort to find the most comfortable spot. I’m somewhat into the fundamentals of Feng Shui, and so every time that I felt that there wasn’t enough good energy flowing, I’d move.

And I’m such a romantic and totally in love with the idea of having my own nook – it’s just that I haven’t worked out whether I work better secluded or amongst activity – but I do have a look of the nook in mind (complete with mini library) and this wasn’t helped by that gorgeous room acquired by Ben Stiller’s character (minus the darkish tones) in that silly movie Duplex.

From day one, Hubby had set up his PC in the corner of our games room – probably the best room in our house (thanks to the huge space, abundance of light and its position) – but I didn’t see the point in both of us being in there. Everyone knows a writer needs space. Besides, I knew that I’d have to temporarily relocate whenever the boys came around or when any entertaining was required.

Up until last week, I was set up in the second bedroom, I suppose it’s one of the better spots I’ve had – but something still wasn’t right. Not to mention that Arky wasn’t impressed every time I left him to go to my PC (as the bedrooms are out of bounds for him), and I didn’t like being too far from the centre of the house in general, and worst of all – it was getting so cold in that room because of Winter that I’d find myself glued to the couch in the games room just to avoid the chills.

I had a whinge to Hubby, who was gaming it from his usual spot, where he was of course warm. He gestured towards the corner opposite him, “Why don’t you set yourself up in here?” he said.

With that, I went to the window adjacent to the proposed nook site, gazed at the view (which is actually the best view we have in the house) and wondered why the hell I wasn’t set up in there already.

After the move, I even bought myself a nook-warming present: a Dracena from the local supermarket that was on special. Hehe.

And if entertainment calls? Simple. Laptop and remote access. Solved. The funny thing is, we don’t do much entertaining anyway, whereas writing is my life, and it makes more sense to me to occupy a room for something that’s always occupying me.

So it appears I have at last found the writer’s nook within this house – yikes, it’s only what I’ve wanted all along. There is good energy flow here, there is warmth, Hubby is close by and probably the one that is happiest of all is Ark — who now gets to keep an eye on me a whole lot more.

Published At Fifteen

There was a time, more than ten years ago, when I used to regularly buy the UK-published Elvis Monthly mini-mag.

I would particularly enjoy reading about how people became Elvis fans, and one day I decided to write to the magazine with my story too.

They published it and I was ecstatic. And I was so impressed that it was on the first page that followed the front cover.

At 15, I didn’t know that I wanted to pursue a writing career. I did enjoy messing around with stories and screenplays but saw them only as pastimes. When I submitted my article to Elvis Monthly, it was because I wanted to be part of an association. I doubted that it would be published.

My “article” (although terribly corny when I read it today) was naive but purposeful: I wrote about why I idolised a singer who wasn’t from my time. The following are some excerpts from the piece – (please excuse the simple tones):

“It has been almost 15 years since Elvis Presley passed away, and the majority of people who still write such articles is wonderful. To name only a couple – Connie Kirchberg’s A Matter Of Understanding and Sylvia Delap’s Elvis Was A Christian both touched me deeply”.

“Elvis had always been around when I was younger, but I never knew much about him and I didn’t take any notice. I loved watching his movies whenever they came on TV and I can still remember hearing my mum play Separate Ways over and over on the stereo”.

“… My dream is to see Graceland. I’m fifteen now, but I swear [that] in a few years time, whether my parents like it or not, I’m going to live that dream.”

I wanted to log this experience not because I regard that publication as my first but because it was the very first time my words were professionally printed. My reasons for wanting to be published back then (largely to declare that I was an Elvis fan and to get myself some Elvis Pen Pals!) are obviously not the same reasons I desire to be published today.

And no, I never travelled to Graceland after all. The world is a maze within a maze when you’re 15 years old. Some goals (as bizarre as they seem to me today) merely diminish – like the desire to see Elvis’ resting place (!), whereas other goals remain ever-prominent – such as to enjoy and nurture my writing ability for personal and professional recognition.