IN THE MEANTIME

So the last time I blogged was in April 2012 and coincidently that was also when I wrote the last draft of I Woke Up In The Future and sent it to my Agent 007, who (along with this wonderful PA) has spent the last seven months painstakingly editing the manuscript getting it publishers ready (FYI Agents don’t normally do what 007 has done and I am very aware just how lucky I am and the fact that I have struck gold when it comes to agents! 007 YOU ROCK!!)  When I sent the last draft I asked him ‘What shall I do now 007?’ at which he answered ‘Take some time out Jacobs, you’ve done all the hard work, time for me to take over’ ‘Ok’ I said ‘some time out? well this can only mean one thing, this must be my meantime’.

Cue four weeks of catching up on all of the box sets I wanted to watch while in the writers room, Game of Thrones, Fringe, Mad Men and yes I went there Downton Abbey (had to see what all the fuss was about and why my Father sneaked off during Christmas dinner to catch an episode). I then needed a break from the world of the Crawleys and Julian’s somewhat skewed perspective of the Upstairs/Downstairs relationships post-Edwardian era and decided to venture out into the world to see how much it changed while I had been locked away in the Writers Room for almost two years completing the book. Apart from the obvious, new government intent on taking us back to the Victorian era, civil unrest and mass demonstrations, floods and continuing wars, the Kardashians having another baby, something significant had changed.
ME!
I had actually changed while writing my book and I had also changed the landscape of the world I was occupying. I had cleansed de-cluttered and defragged, I had removed worn out debris, weeded out the old and unbeknownst to me while I had my head in a book the space had been filled. Filled with new friends, new experiences beckoning, new ways of thinking, new relationships, a whole new way of being. So of course I dived right in, I welcomed a Japanese film crew into my home, I travelled to Dubai and sang folk songs with two Germans and a Shri Lankan (involved much bourbon and shouting ‘Skol’ all night) I went to festivals and got stuck in the mud while dancing amongst the Toil trees and thinking about my next book. I horse rode on the Moroccan beach and almost knocked myself out falling off a bed (DO NOT try and re-create your friends drunken birthday shenanigans while laughing hysterically, FYI Karma will push you off the bed) I partied and socialised with my fantastic new friends, changed my hair styles as often as Rihanna and all the while people still wanted to know about the book and still wanted to hear the I Woke Up In The Future story. It has been life affirming. Yes my meantime has been a big ole Universal High Five saying well done Jacobs you did it! You wrote your first book and more importantly you have written a book that has not only changed your life but changed you.

So what next I hear you ask?

Well, it’s all in the hands of the Universe, as I think I have already told you this whole phenomenon is much bigger than me and much bigger than I ever predicted so all I have to do is keep doing what I have been doing, practice a little patience, walk this amazing path and continue to write. So now there is a new challenge, a new book (Fiction-Oh Gosh!!!) a new film script and a whole new way of looking at life.

My life in the future, my life right now.

And the meantime has shown me that finally I am living the life I envisioned for myself almost five years ago when I had the amnesia. To that I simply say…SKOL!!!

And as far as I Woke Up In The Future goes well 007 has finished the edit and it has gone to all of the interested publishers……so my Future darlings…..watch this space J

THE FORTUNE OF A FRIENDS LOVE

*SING*

‘So no one told you life was gonna be this was way’ ©

Well in fact nobody did, tell me life was going to be this way. I wasn’t given a manual, Yoda like wisdom wasn’t imparted at the moment I left home many moons ago, nobody told me what life real life would be like. I wasn’t warned of the painful times, the toil and hard work times, the lonely times, the low times, and the downright bloody unbelievably crappy times. I had to experience them, I had to learn, I had to gather evidence and examine in order for me to know what life was, is about. But last night I was asked whether I would change anything about my life thus far and the resounding answer was OH NO! Why? Well one simple thing really LOVE, and during this life thus far, I have had the great fortune along my travels to come across some really wonderful friends and the LOVE of these really wonderful friends. This LOVE has not been more apparent to me than the last few months during the last rewrites of the book before it goes to the publishers. This LOVE has critiqued my narrative, made alternative suggestions, read countless drafts, spurned me on when I wanted to give up, encouraged me when I wasn’t sure of what I was doing, picked me up and dusted me off when I fell, wiped my tears when I cried and laughed with me when I laughed. But most of all their LOVE the LOVE of my friends has supported me through my whole ‘being a writer’ journey and I dedicate this blog to you. Yes you my beautiful circle of friends, you know who you are. Some of you are family and feel like my closest friends some of you are friends and feel like my closest family. Some of you I have known since I was a child, others I have known through my adult life thus far. Some of you are married with children some of you are single, some of you are male, some of you are female. Some of you are artists; some of you work 9-5, some of you are older than me some of you are younger and during these times you have challenged me, you haven’t agreed with me, you have asked me to see it from another perspective, sometimes you have pushed me, backed me up, stood by my side, and cheer leaded from the front lines, chanting loud and clear N A O M I J A C O B S Woohoo!! But one thing you have all in common and one thing I know for sure is that you have done all of this for me because of LOVE. And no more than now when I am doing one of the most bravest and scariest things I will ever do in my life (apart from giving birth) do I see this LOVE, do I hear this LOVE, do I feel this LOVE. Do I know your LOVE, my beautiful friends.

The other question I was asked last night was, did you always know you would be a writer and my answer was somewhere deep down inside I did, well when I was four years of age I did, and then I forgot only to remember 28 years later. But what I didn’t know and what I have learned these past four years and during the writing of I Woke Up In The Future, is how fortunate I would be when it came to friends. How LOVED I would feel and how this LOVE would be the force that kept me going. So to you my friends, I will raise my glass and toast your friendship and thank the universe, the cosmos and the powers that be, that they sent me you and your wonderfully inspiring, patient, kind, loyal, unconditional beautiful beautiful LOVE.

LOVE ALWAYS

Your friend

Naomi x

THE FORCE OF REJECTION

The Force of Rejection

I’ve been thinking a lot about rejection and how when you are an artist of any kind, singer, dancer, painter, actor, writer, you are at some point going to put you or your work out into the public arena. A place where you or your craft will be observed, picked apart, criticised, and judged and then more often times that not rejected.

I have experienced this many times and believe it has contributed to a sense of crippling self-doubt and some I-give-up-and-am-staying-in-bed depressive states that I have battled with on many occasion. But it had me wondering, why oh why, even in the face of rejection do I carry on?
What is it that keeps me going and in spite of the constant slamming of doors do I pick myself up dust myself off and carry on?
I mean don’t get me wrong this is of course after much wailing and crying screaming and shouting to anyone that will listen that I am not and will in no way ever put myself through it again. I am talking tantrums that would rival any three year old, I stamp my feet, I throw myself on the floor while doing three sixty exorcism type spins, screaming till I am red in the face and the neighbours come knocking with concerns of a murder most horrid. No I am kidding; it’s not that bad, although nobody has actually witnessed the full force of my ruminations over my ruined life, so this opinion borders on the severely biased.

So what is it then? Well after much pondering I have come to the conclusion that it’s the force, (Yoda would be proud) it’s actually the force of rejection which keeps me going. If I hadn’t of experienced it, if I didn’t know what rejection actually felt like I wouldn’t carry on, it’s a paradox. I mean if getting to the top of your own artistic mountain was easy, you just wouldn’t do it, you’d keep putting it off until tomorrow, until one day you realised you’ve run out of tomorrow’s and its too late. It had to be hard, there had to be obstacles and pitfalls and most of all rejection, as it made me better, it made me stronger, wiser and most of all it made me go back to the beginning, figure out what I could have possibly not got right, and do it again differently. It’s the only way you improve your craft, it’s the only way you get better as an artist, and it’s the force that keeps you carrying on.

The Force of Rejection.

Is your friend, if you let it be, it’s the chisel in your creative tool box that carves your raw talent from a lump of rock into a work of art and eventually like oh I don’t know say like Michelangelo’s David, one day many will come to laud and marvel at it.

Of course don’t believe me, believe the force.

Work it does, in me trust, with you always!

(please comment below or on my face book, all references to Star Wars will be accepted as one is a major Sci-fi geekess and loves it when you quote anything from BSG, ST, SW, DC comics and Sci-fi films pre 1999)

PROVIDENCE AND PAST LIVES

I have finished the first draft of the second book, and feel....well its definitely a different feeling from when I completed I Woke Up In The Future. The first book was about purpose, about me finally taking a chance on myself and doing what I always wanted to to do...write. This book is more personal, yes its a follow on from I Woke Up In The Future, but has evolved into its own entity, separate from the first story. Maybe the hint of how I feel is in the title, Butterflies and Hurricanes. I feel like I have weathered a storm, been tossed and turned flipped upside down and right side up by a huge almighty hurricane, and landed with a thud. Only to lay there a while, bruised and broken, but long enough for a sort of protection to form a Chrysalis of Providence. A place of safety, security and signs, that held me together while change took place. A deep catharsis, that was unique to me, and yet when I share will hopefully resonate with many. This writing has taken me on a journey of past lives, broken legacy's and decisions made that have reverberated through my soul and the souls of others. Some call this The Butterfly Effect. So yes, I would liken my feelings to that of the peace a Butterfly seems to possess when you see it flutter from flower to flower on a hazy summers day, as you marvel at its colours and the silent way in which it agrees with the universe that it deserves its providence. A simple joy born from placing its existence in something more powerful than itself. It knows it will not last very long, but in the time that it does have, the metamorphosis it experienced, the pain of the change, was always worth it. If only to experience its true nature once. Butterflies and Hurricanes was me experiencing the true nature of me. So on to the second draft of the second book, and as I write, I will take a moment to quietly marvel at my own colours and know that all of the pain, was worth it.

THE FIRST DRAFT IS ALWAYS THE HARDEST

I am currently writing the first draft of the second book and although the process is quite different from writing I Woke Up In The Future, one thing they both have in common is the first draft is always the hardest. The first draft is always the most painful, its the most difficult thing to get through. Especially when you write something which is so deeply personal as I do and you have to remember what you said, what you did and more importantly how you felt back then. I have journals, twenty years worth and sometimes when I read them  I am so far removed from the memory that its as if I am reading someone else's words. Other times I read the words and cry. Cry because the memory is still painful, cry because I know there is a part of me that still needs to heal, cry because sometimes it's the only thing I can do. I often wonder if someone else were to read those words and feel the pain of their own experience would they cry? if so, how would that make me feel? well although the first draft is the hardest, and the most painful and makes me cry sometimes. I somehow get through it and continue to write, because once I have typed the full stop of the last sentence on the last page, my tears have dried up and I feel better. I even smile. If that's what happens to whomever reads my words, they heal through tears to reach the end with a smile, well then the first draft although the hardest will always be worth it.

WHO/WHERE/WHAT IS YOUR MUSE?

Enquiring minds (mine) want to know. Seriously. Answers on my comment section below, or you can answer on my facebook and I will transfer them to my blog. I want to know. I really do. I suppose the reason why I ask is because it is a complete enigma to me, the Muse that is, especially the nature of it. A few things I know for sure, its unpredictable, I never know when its going to strike, or where or even how. I can not seem to get a handle on its exclusivity, its indiscriminate ways means I can not force it to show me its hand and reveal itself. When it does appear it happens to be at the most inopportune and inconvenient times yet I despair at its elusiveness. My frustration grows when I attempt to seek it out. Only to be reminded that it chooses me not the other way round. Who Where What is your Muse? Sometimes mine is a book I have read that moves me in ways I can not describe yet compels me to continue writing in the hopes that one day I will move my readers in the same way. Sometimes its a song, a lyric, that my heart resonates with, a lost love, a hope for the future, a moment in time remembered with joy. Sometimes its a person, something they do or say, a life changing experience they've had or simply an animated conversation with the local shop keeper punctuated with a killer one liner. Sometimes it's a place, a quiet spot in the garden underneath the protective shade of a tree or a secluded beach where the only sounds are the waves softly whispering stories of old to you. Who Where What is your Muse? right now she escapes my creative grasp and I wait in hope patiently that she remembers me and chooses me again. In the meantime I'll survive on the memory of the last time she gave me a visit and how she made me feel. In awe.

The Writer and Patience

If you are a writer or creative of any form, one of the things/virtues/qualities you need the most is patience! you need to be patient with your craft, waiting for your muse to bring you the inspiration you need to create. If your a writer you need to be patient with the length of time it takes to produce a book, from first draft to re-write say oh 10-15 times, then there is the editing and the copy-editing whilst the publishers go over the last minute changes to details. You need to be patient with your agent who is out there working tirelessly selling your book getting you a deal, you need to be patient with the film producers who promise you the moon and the stars and then quietly slip away to work on other projects or find the money for yours. When you are a writer you have to start thinking deadlines in terms of years not months, and then locate an unending well of patience to draw on whilst sitting waiting for the phone to ring. Now being one who possesses very little, patience that is, (apparently a consequence of being a gen x child under Thatcher rule) I want it done now, no right now, in fact preferably yesterday! oh how the universe has a sly sense of humour. Give me the one thing I love to do the most (write for those of you who are not too sure) but add the one thing that's going to challenge me and is a necessary component in the makeup of the creative, patience. So after much cyclical thinking and a few sleepless nights worrying about option clauses and royalty statements and all of the other things a writer pays an agent for. I have come to the conclusion the only option is to carry on, that is write another book or two! I deem it the only thing that will keep me occupied, stop me from staring at the phone and well ironically bring about the one thing I need. When I write, time has no influence, it all but disappears and what I realise when I put the pen down that unbeknownst to me I have found the very thing I was looking for, patience.