Computer says, 'fat bitch'!

Computer says, ‘fat bitch’

OK maybe it didn’t use those words but that was what it meant. My new toy, a Wii Fit, pulled no punches when it diagnosed the state of my body. I thought it would be just like any other computer game but was shocked to learn that it weighs you, gives you a BMI and awards your a body fitness age based on its results.

And its results on me were pretty damming. I have been avoiding the scales for years and tend to judge my weight on how comfortable my clothes feel, but I have always known I could do to loose a few (ah-hhem) pounds. The poor weather recently has meant that my meager attempts at running have been reduced to once a month, if I’m lucky. Pilates once a week isn’t enough and the empty calories consumed in the red wine I drink are a disgrace. But do I really need a computer to tell me that I am overweight and dying prematurely? Apparently yes.

The Wii gave me a fitness age twelve years my senior! I am a crumbling heavy wreck according to the black box plugged into my telly. But help is on hand, this little darling has promised to help me, all I have to do is visit each day for 30minutes and I will be saved.

Being a computer of course means it doesn’t sugar coat anything with excuses; the fact I am big boned does not wash with Wii. This is a nuts and bolts solution you can’t argue back with and that is the reason I like it. I have decided to give this solution a go, I know it is the wrong time of year or maybe it is the right time of year. I have to do something because if what this thing is telling me is correct, my body is going to start giving up twelve years before it is suppose to. I live in the West of Scotland, I am surrounded by premature old, young folk, it is not going to happen to me!

Once I made a Wii mini Mii (small and dumpy) I was ready to go. So what is it like having a computer as a trainer? My personal virtual female trainer is very encouraging, but individual games have their own scoring system. The boxing trainer, a crabby faced cockney, is horrible and shouted that I hadn’t even broken sweat. The text rankings aren’t much better; they hurl cheeky insults at you like ‘couch potato’ or ‘amateur’. It gave me an ‘I’ll show you’ attitude.

There is one exercise where I managed to persuade the computer to call me ‘Champion’. This is Zazen, a zen exercise that measures how still you can sit. It involves sitting on the balance board and staring at a candle on the screen. If the flame flickers your body is moving, if it moves too much the flame if extinguished and it is game over. Distractions are thrown at you, creaking footsteps and fire flies that sizzle in the flame. I can out sit the computer time of 180 seconds. It seems I excel at sitting doing nothing.

History Lesson

My weekend was spent in London and the highlight for me was a trip to see Billy Elliot the musical. I remember a few years ago watching the film with great interest particularly the parts about the miners strike, but the musical is a far better representation of these times.

When I was at school reading '1984' for my 'O' Level English I had no idea the year would have such an impact on my life. Billy Elliot is not just a musical it is a social history. There were many foreigners in the audience who I am sure did not really understand what was going on, or maybe thought that police riot scenes are exaggerated. But they aren't. The writer of Billy Elliot obviously lived close to the miners strike - as I did. From the years of 1977 until my divorce in 1991 I was married to a coal miner. I lived through that time and I had forgotten what that life was like.

It was the orange overalls that did it. Each week I would boil my husband's overalls in my hire purchase automatic. Tiny pieces of coal would get stuck in the rubber of the door. I would hang them out in all weathers just to get them out of the house. often bringing them in frozen from the line, like cardboard cut out. They never really were clean.

I never agreed with the miners strike. I hated all the leaders; MacGaughy, Scargill, Macgregor and of course Thatcher. Not one of them cared what happened to the families.

During the strike we had our rent paid and received a food voucher for the local supermarket. I would go armed with calculator and carefully buy a week's shopping trying to use the whole amount of the voucher. No change was given, no non-groceries were allowed. My blood still ices over with the humiliation suffered at the hands of the checkout girls if you miscalculated and had to decide what to leave out of the basket, while other shoppers looked on.

It was during this time that I learned to economise and have now turned this skill into my How to Survive the Credit Crunch course. The single mothers I teach are fascinated with my hard luck stories.

It wasn't until after the strike that many wives, myself included, found that Social Services were giving cash hand out to the men to help the families. In my case these handouts got no further than the Miners Welfare Club. How did I find out? As soon as the strike ended, Social Services billed us over a thousand pounds, the handouts were in fact loans and had to be paid back. Oh happy times.

There is a nostalgia attached to the demise of the coal industry that I will never understand. It was a terrible way to make a living. I remember my ex husband had pock marks all over his back from falling debris coming off the tunnel roof, the only time it cleared up was during his three week annual holiday. Many men were injured or lost their lives working in unsafe conditions. I admit that the small communities were unique but I don't believe it was only the pits that kept the community spirit alive, the strike shattered communities as is documented in Billy Elliot.

With the right attitudes and the right resources communities can thrive again, they just need another enemy to fight. It would be good, considering the damage the coal carbon omissions make to our world, if their fight is against climate change.

On a brighter note, Billy Elliot is not all doom, the dancing is superb and the young actors are to be admired. And the sight of burly men dancing in tutus over those orange overalls made washing them all those years ago worth while - my ex husband should be spinning in his grave.

The Final Countdown

It is almost finished - I'm almost finished!

My first attempt at the Write a Novel in the Month of November (Nano) has been an experience that I will definitely repeat.

I hadn't contemplated trying Nano until one of my writer Facebook friends suggested this was a great way to clean up lurking WIPs. I have loads of those. I mentioned in a previous post that the Nano novel I am writing is something masquerading as a short story. In that previous post I said I was hand writing the story and would type it up when I had the time. That is still the case, I have continued to write almost every day although I have to admit that I didn't take full advantage of the support offered from the website set up to help all the participants in this challenge.

So how did I fair in this gruelling challenge? It was tough especially because I continued to edit my other WIP novel. I have never written so much in my life before (and my house has never been so dirty). I have over 17,000 words on my hard drive and I calculate another 13,000 in the two note books I filled over the month. I still haven't finished the story even though I know most of the plot.

OK, so it isn't the 50,000 words the challenge set, but 30,000 is still a good shout and I will continue to write the same volume each day and hope to have the first draft finished by Christmas.

This process has been a real revelation to me. I normally take two years to write a first draft and here I am with the potential of a two month draft. I can't wait to start the edits.

My Silver Darlings

Many years ago, when I was a fledgling writer I took a trip with a Glasgow writing group to Pittenweem in Fife. This was strange for me, being a Fifer who had spent many holidays on this fishing coast, but it was an excuse for a trip back in time and some free time to write. The purpose of the trip was to pick up on any inspiration the Pittenweem Arts Festival had to offer. There was so much on offer that my poor senses were bombarded so I took myself off, on my own, to the harbour wall and the experience of the sea. While I sat on the wall I composed the poem Cut Fingers based on the history of fishermen’s knitting which has long been a passion of mine.

But the poem didn’t tell the whole story. A year later I joined a writing class and wrote a short story using the same title and the same subject. I knew the story idea was good but my writing skills were poor. I put the story in a drawer and bided my time.

Last year The Scottish Association of Writers (SAW) held a competition with a theme of Homecoming. I took the original story, which was written in the third person, and rewrote it entirely, this time in the first person.

The story was commended in the SAW event but has since gone on to win Second Prize in the Bournemouth Short Story Competition 2009.

A good lesson in hoarding.

To read Cut Fingers click here



Seaside Inspiration

While updating the website with some of my more successful pieces of writing, one thing has occurred to me – the sea plays an important part in my writing.

National Novel Writing Month - A good excuse

I always said would never do it, but I have to admit I have succumbed to the National Novel Writing Month (nicknamed Nano). For one month only I am expected to shove all other commitments to the edge of the desk (if I can find it)and write, write, write. The reason I decided to do this was to give myself a break from editing my second novel, The Incomers.

The Mongrel, a short story I wrote about two years ago has been gnawing at my bones. It always was a novel, but being a fantasy story I could never see myself writing it. I reckoned if I could do it in a month then I could purge it from my system once and for all.

I thought the process would be tedious and distracting. It's not. I am hooked.

The website that monitors the project, www.nanowrimo.org/ lays on advice and offers facilities for writing buddies to give encouragement, but I am not into that. Writers are also expected to log their word count as they go on. By the end of November the total words logged should be 50,000. So far I have logged 7500, but these are only the words I have managed to type. I have written many more.

The process I use is to write every morning, at least 6 A5 pages; no editing, no reading back. The plan is to type them up when I have time, but unfortunately I am not good at ditching my other commitments and have lagged behind with the typing. Does it matter? I reckon I have about another 15,000 words hand written in a notebook, which is incredible; I have never written so much in such a short time before. And the story is so alive in my head, I think I might use this method for first draft from now on. This is the third week and I know I will stick in and work with my own wee process. Maybe by the end of next week I will be done with the story.

Blog, Blog, Blog, Blog

I am chilled, I worked hard today and was rewarded with a prize.

Today I was delighted to receive a Lovely Blog Award from my writing friend, Rosemary Gemmell. When I first joined the writing group Erskine Writers, Rosemary was one of the first people there to make me feel welcome. Rosemary is a fine writer of fiction and articles and is tireless in her work; I am always a little in awe of her productivity. Her blog is a tasteful reflection of her gentle personality and a showcase for her writing. I am honoured to receive the award from her.


The rules of the award are that you should:


1) Accept the award, and don’t forget to post a link back to the awarding person.
2) Pass the award on.
3) Notify the award winners.



The two blogs I would like to give the award to are both children of Misha Somerville. I first found Misha's blog Red Light Ray when I bought his exceptional book Bamako Boom Boom and started to learn the whistle. This is a blog that makes me think.

I have now discovered his other blog High-8. High-8 acts as a vicarious feed for my adrenalin need - check it out. It has some stunning photos of Scotland and offers accessible alternative adventure outside of the munro bagging circuit.


There is an uncanny coincidence about the new project I started yesterday for National Novel Writing Month (there - I've announced it, now I'll have to do it)and the High-8 blog. I am writing something set in the future but I wanted some old traditional Gaelic names for my characters, the main character was originally called Solie but I decided, after a read through an old Celtic Review, to change his name to Somhairle, a name I had never heard before. About one hour after making this change I discovered that the co author of High-8 is called Somhairle Macdonald. Spooky eh?




Loch Ossian, a photo stolen from a WIP Lovely Blog

I would have liked to also award the blog prize to Colin for his photography blog but it is in bits at the moment so you will have to settle for one of the photos I stole years ago and have used here and there ever since - he doesn't seem to mind too much.

PS I wish the award had been called something other than Lovely - I hate the word although I have been known to use it occasionally in this blog!