Added: Wed. Dec 05, 2012 3:00pm
Posted in: Writing
my favourite time of year. people think i like the blazing summer with pool parties n water skiing and chasing scantily-clad ladies but it's when winter comes in that i feel the blood rise and the joie de vivre return.
i'm wrestling with a short story for a women's magazine but can't choose the name to use. i write under several names - maureen Mcmahon (prim, disapproving late 30s, not sure why she writes at all); teresa price, racy cute, bit of a naughty girl, been around the block.
depending on the name, thats how i write. my agent wants me to do 6 or so 'maureens' because they sell well and the male/husband readers write in accusing me of knowing nothing about men. i could write under my own name but theyre dull plodding tales, too much fantasy maleness and a bit thick about his women.
'teresa' is spending xmas out in greece with her summer lover but finding the relationship coming apart from the seams. she takes a charity job with the donkey sanctuary where she meets kostas - shy, beautiful, totally wrong for her. she decides to devote her 2 wks to bringing him out of himself. not sure if they go to bed.
'maureen' is heading back to her family home for a ghastly xmas with people she despises, and despises herself for despising them. her married lover is, of course, with his wife and family but keeps calling her as she drives north. she has rentd a flash car which keeps going wrong. as she passes the landmarks n route she remembers all her previous visits and the happiness of her childhood. she never really knew her father - died jan 14 2011 - but adored him and keeps trying to fit his sage advice into her own life. he would not approve of her affair but would tell hr to listen to her heart.
fuelling this is my own life, caught between two women whom i adore in different ways and have to make a decision before the new year is in: i need for tax purposes to place a large amount in 'trust' and both ladies desperately need money. they do not know of my financial situation and nor do i intend them to. my lawyers will place the money as if from some windfall. whichever i choose i will probably ask to move in with me to cook and keep me warm and be adored and devoted on. the other will phase out with my usual cruel change of disposition.
my dogs love the shy one. as i write 'maureen' i find myself more n more bringing in bits of shy dianne, which is out of character. on the other hand, im waiting for 'maureen' to melt.
the rain is belting down and i'm playing Matthews passion which i always do to kick off dekembrios. i have a dinner tonight for which i need to iron my trousers and favourite shirt. im smoking too much and skipped gym twice this week. my karate partner beat me up something rotten at our meet and i feel weaker in the knees which affects my kicks.
i dont feel like writing which is when i hack out my best stuff. spare wordage, intolerant of waste adjectives.
i miss my daughter. she has made a bad marriage but is like me, too proud to admit it, soldiering on. hr husband is a cheat and a bully but i cant hit him. he will run out of money soon - i had a PE hack his account and talk to his creditors. he is finished. sasha will never ask me for money, nor will she come live with me. i am impossible to put up with. her mother was the only one who knew the key to me.
2148hrs. i will go to the gym and work out which story to write. hard exercise is the answer. the rain has stopped and the dogs are looking expectant for a walk down to the gates. i might pile them in the car and take them to danilia beach and smoke cigar, mebbe take a half bottle of moet and brood, as is my wont. i hate this indecision. in my salad days i was all go but now ... dither dither, decisions decisions.
perhaps i'll invent another name, caroline. artist, free spirit. have her come out to greece, fall in love with an unsuitable adonis, get whacked around, leave him and rent a hovel in perithia, visit all the corfu sights. resist men, perform miracle murals. lesbian? could i write such tenderness?
dinner calls. after some guitar. i was revisiting some old compositions and kept hitting wrong notes in chords which turned out to be *right* notes. A xmas concert up here with my regular jammers, have anthony do the catering, see how many arguments i can fuel among the closest couples. greg and sarah still havent got the bed bit right since last year. giggle.
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