Your Monday mote

I couldn’t help but wonder… do I need a tutu?

Photo by Adam Walker on Unsplash

Something about the clocks changing combined with warmer temperatures and a clear blue sky, made me want to throw on a tutu and heels, and run after a bus today.

Yes, I truly am the product of my era.

Of course, I didn’t do any of that. I wrestled myself into a pair of wide-legged trousers, a light sweater and trainers, then sauntered into Leigh-on-Sea, for a meeting with a client.

In all honesty, I don’t think I’ve ever worn a tutu but despite my sensible middle-aged attire, the Carrie in me was skipping along the street, dodging steam rising from the sidewalk (the mean streets of Leigh are well known for that).

I’m not really much of a Carrie, although - ha! - I’m actually writing this mote on my laptop, in my bedroom, so that I can watch the birds at the feeder. But I think an element of my ‘youth’ bubbled up to the surface today, and somehow the clement vibe transported me back to my twenty-something Nineties self. Carefree, energetic and drinking Diet Coke for breakfast.

It’s funny to think about the moments that we keep locked inside and how they burst out of us every now and then*. The optimism of my favourite season change, from winter to spring, ignited something in me that's for sure. A pep in my step and a fresh blaze of creativity.

But ultimately, I couldn’t help but wonder… *cue Carrie-style column question*

Must everything in my life be a literary or pop culture reference - and if so, is that a good or bad thing?

The answer I’m hoping for, is that it’s a good thing.

When I’m writing in a room of my own, I think about…well, you can guess that one.

If the TV remote is just out of reach, I use ‘the Force’, so I don’t have to get up from the sofa. So far, the results have been disappointing.

Making breakfast, and especially if there is a citrus fruit involved, I will recreate the famous Morecambe & Wise sketch (one for all you Seventies kids).

I use the words ‘Doublespeak’ and ‘Expelliarmus’ far too often.

If I want to hype myself up, I blast the theme tune to The Magnificent Seven, by Elmer Bernstein, and imagine I’m walking onto the stage at the Oscars, to present an award.

I think about someone wanting to love me ‘just the way I am’, far too often. (Should probably get therapy for that).

If I’m using some kind of aromatherapy tincture and it’s in a tiny glass bottle (Neal’s Yard, I’m looking at you), I’ll imagine I’m in an Agatha Christie story, and that it’s a rare poison; one that’s administered to kill an obnoxious aunt, who insists on bossing around her pallid niece, or a greedy factory owner, who won’t let his posh daughter marry a scruff.

Ginger beer and macaroons are obviously a joy because they represent the Famous Five, and using the TRX straps at the gym, last week, as I stood in a ‘T’ shape to stretch out my shoulders, I thought about Jack and Rose.

Why am I like this?

It’s a wonder anything gets done but these fleeting thoughts are constantly running through my head.

I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer and I think when you spend a lot of time alone, you tend to live inside yourself too much. But it’s more than that. I love to soak up all the art and words and music and stories that have swirled around me my entire life. I can’t enough. I’m like the Cookie Monster, I want more (“You’re at it again” - Ed).

But now, I’ve truly given in to the Dark Side (GAH!) and am using all of this nonsense to write a novel that is not just pop culture heavy but also very nostalgic.

Maybe I’ll treat myself to a tutu once it’s done. I’m not saying I’ll wear it but it might be nice to look at hanging in my wardrobe (you know, the one that leads to Narnia).

Anyone else? And if this is also you, should we start a support group?

Lisa

Have you read my most recent INSIDERS interview with literary agent Francesca Riccardi, yet? You should. She shares her fascinating insight into the publishing industry, her do’s and don’ts, and what an agent is looking for in a writer.

Find it here.

*Like the alien, in Alien. (“Stop it, or I’m locking you in an attic” - Ed).