The Boundless Expression of Creativity

The experiences I encountered the last two weeks during my travels in China and Hong Kong once again made me marvel at the unique nature of individual creativity. The expression of creativity is as endless as the act of creativity itself and human nature continues to discover and define different ways and applications for their talents. The development and evolution of technology, a creative expression in itself, also enables many different forms of creativity to emerge.

I had the opportunity to spend some time at the premises of a particular firm in Shenzhen, China, who manufactures eyewear in a very unusual way. Hitherto opticians and wearers of glasses have been at the mercy of the designers and creators of eyewear. It seems that it is only in recent years that there has been an awareness among manufacturers that glasses may have a purpose beyond being functional and allowing the wearer to see the world in its intended glory. Not only do they serve a practical purpose and are a necessity for many people, but they also have the potential to become an important element of the wearer’s attire. Above all they are capable of enhancing the appearance and unique facial characteristics of the wearer, expressing a personal signature.

However, opticians and wearers of glasses have had to contend with what the manufacturers of these vital pieces of apparatus decided to produce. Historically the functional aspect has taken precedence at the cost of appearance. Finally, in recent years the concept of glasses as an enhancement to the appearance of the wearers dawned on the manufacturers. However, opticians and their clients have continued to be passive participants in the process, having to be content with what the manufacturers decided to produce.

Then, some ten years or so ago a creative and entrepreneurial young man had a vision to turn the design and manufacture of eyewear upside down and TD Tom Davies was borne. Tom Davies created a unique and innovative process that enabled the production of bespoke frames. This approach allows both the optician and the client to be co-creators with the manufacturer, TD Tom Davies. Together they are able to create a pair of frames that will not only fit the wearer perfectly, but which also takes into account their lifestyle and unique personality. The result is eyewear that is unique to the individual from the colour to the shape of the frames. This innovative approach to eyewear design has meant TD Tom Davies is in a league of its own. For those with the means, the master himself offers a service akin to haute couture.

Continuing with the theme of creativity, I had the opportunity to visit the famous artist village in Shenzhen that attracts buyers from all over the world. What makes this particular artist village unique is the high concentration of artists with the ability to reproduce and copy unique works of art. Wandering around the streets of the village offers the surreal experience of coming face to face with variations of many of the original and famous masterpieces created throughout the centuries. The artists will also produce paintings from personal photographs from portraits to landscapes and many more.

The experience made me reflect on Eugene’s own creativity that shared a similarity with those of the artists I encountered. Like them he also started with a blank canvas, but instead of paint, pencil or other material, Eugene had mastered the art of using needle and thread with which to create his own works of art. His ‘paintings’ were unique pieces of embroidery reflecting a particular theme or view that had inspired him.

I also reflected on the fact that human beings are themselves unique individual works of art and no artist, no matter how skilled will be able to copy the exclusivity of each individual. It was Eugene’s particular individuality that served as inspiration for me to write my tribute and to share with others what made him the one off work of art that he was.

The Suspension of Time

Prompted by the changes of the clocks going back an hour to coincide with the official end to the summer season, I reflected this week on the notion of time and how we define time. Why do we change the clocks and what purpose does it serve?

The practice of putting the clocks forward in March and then back again in October dates back nearly 100 years. Germany pioneered the practice during World War I and it was in the 90s that the dates for changing the clocks became enshrined in European law. As with so many other practices in the UK, we are out of sync with the rest of Europe. The question whether we should permanently move the clocks forward by an hour to bring us in line with Central European Time is as old as the practice of changing the clocks itself. One of the many benefits would be that we would work during the same business hours as other European cities.

So why did it all come about in the first place? One of the motivations was that it would give farmers more daylight in the mornings to gather their dairy herds, plough fields or take their produce to market. However, according to the various farming bodies this practice is perceived as fairly redundant. Not only have the changes in technology made life easier for farmers to cope with winter but also farming is not as important to British economy as it once was.

The changing of the clocks got me to think about the nature of time and most of the sources I consulted concludes that one thing we can be certain about is that time defies definition. Anyone would be happy to say that they know what time is. However, we do not have an in-built mechanism with which to perceive or sense time. We tend to associate time with the fact that changes are periodic. As we are reminded of this week, seasons come and go and are part of a wider system of change in which these patterns are repeated.

The ancient Greek philosophers believed that the universe had an infinite past with no beginning whereas the medieval philosophers and theologians developed the concept of the universe as having a finite past with a beginning, such as the big bang theory. Changes can therefore be thought of as small deaths and rebirths. We tend to think of time as a fraction of our overall expected lifetime and if our lifetimes were infinite, then all finite spans of time would be so small in comparison that we would probably not have the sense of time in the way that we do. This raises an interesting question. If we did not have a sense of time, would time therefore actually exist? Does time have an existence independent of our minds? These big questions have been part of philosophical debates for a very long time. This brings us back full circle to the question of what is the nature of time in the first place?

However, you may ask what have all these discussions about time got to do with the writing of my tribute to Eugene and Pieter? As I am nearing the end of completing and publishing my book, the reflection on time is very relevant. The thought came to me that for the duration of writing my book I have in fact suspended time and even turned the clock back. The process of reliving and reflecting on my memories of Eugene has turned back the hands of time and allowed me to relive the times we had together. I have been able to freeze time by keeping Eugene in a state of suspended animation. However, as the writing of my tribute draws to an end, I will also have to let go not only of time, but also of Eugene and step into a future time of which he will never form a part.

I was comforted by a quote from Einstein, the master in understanding the nature of time, who put it to a friend who had recently lost a loved one, “People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.” Why mourn someone who lives?

The Light of Day

The tribute I have spent the last two years writing is approaching the time when it will finally see the light of day. Very scary! It is not just Eugene and I anymore, but who knows how many potential readers who will share these memories with us. Although it was the purpose of writing the book in the first place, it doesn’t make it any less daunting.

Whenever I have written something, whether it be an article, manuscript or thesis, I have always found it difficult to put it out into the public domain once completed. Having spent months, and in the case of a thesis, years to complete, it is difficult to allow others access to what has been a very intimate relationship. During the creative process it is just you, your thoughts and the words that eventually emerge. The difficulty then is to send your brainchild out into the world to be prodded, questioned, challenged, criticized and hopefully also loved.

In my previous experience I would complete a manuscript; submit it to the publisher who then takes care of the various processes necessary for publishing. These include editing, proofreading and importantly, the design of the book cover. Finally, and probably one of the most important aspects of the process, the marketing of the book. I now face the daunting prospect of not only being in control of these activities, but also in finding the right people to support me. I have poured over many blogs and writing sites for inspiration as to how I go about finding these magical beings and determining the criteria to select the one from the many.

The next stage in the production process, as I have come to see it, is that of editing. Not only should the editor be skilled in a precise set of methods that will lead to a coherent, grammatically accurate and complete piece of writing, but they should also possess creative skills as well as skills in the art of human relations. The latter are not necessarily the skills one associates with that of an editor. However, I have come to realise how important it is for the editor to have some insight into the context within which my book takes place. They will then be able to understand the dynamics between the environment and the main protagonists of my book, namely Eugene and Pieter.

The skills in human relations are fundamental so that the editor can wield the scalpel with kindness and sensitivity. As an author one becomes very attached to the words you have written, particularly given the overall theme and motivation for my book. Any changes and editing therefore has to be done humanely as I have no doubt that some cuts and recommended changes will have the potential of inflicting emotional pain. The editor might need to wrestle some of those words from me and therefore have the skills of influence and persuasion that will make the changes more acceptable to both of us.

Having survived the scalpel of the editor, it is the turn of the proofreader to correct all those spelling mistakes that I have missed time and time again, despite having read every sentence at least a hundred times. Proofreading is also concerned with page and paragraph layout, page numbering and a final check for consistency. It is the ultimate stage the manuscript goes through before publishing. Then comes the icing on the cake, namely the book cover. Where do I begin? The options are endless and everyone I ask for input has a different idea.

It is critical that the book design matches the content of the book and herein lies the challenge. What visual representation will adequately be able to convey the depth of emotion and the content of the book? I have grappled with it for many hours and have been torn between reflecting the gravity of the theme versus the sense of humour and fun that permeated every aspect of Eugene’s life.

I have not as yet reached a final conclusion and will no doubt select and reject many possibilities before making a final decision. Wish me luck!

The End or the Beginning?

I am writing from France this week, surrounded by my stunning mountains and their ever-changing beauty that never ceases to leave me inspired and in awe. This time of the year they are ablaze with the many autumn colours ranging from yellows to oranges to the deep hues of red, the preferred autumn colours of the many vineyards nestling in the valleys in the area. All set against the backdrop of a sparkling crystal blue sky. As the vibrancy of the autumn colours would suggest, it is not only heralding the end of another season, but it is also the time for reflection and stocktaking.

Just as the end of one season draws to a close, so does the end of writing of my tribute to Eugene and Pieter. I started the writing of my book in France and I felt that symbolically this is where I had to write the concluding chapter. I had always strived to finish the first draft on, or just before Eugene’s actual birthday, which will be on Monday, the 19th. In a way it was the last gift I would be able to bestow on him. We both loved the autumn with its many vibrant colours, so for many reasons it was the right time to write, The End.

I had squirmed, wriggled and procrastinated, doing everything I could to avoid writing the last chapter of my tribute mainly because it was also the last chapter of Eugene’s life. It is also the final chapter of so many chapters we had shared throughout the years. This reflection brought with it the realization that Eugene was the last person in my life who had known me from birth and who had therefore been part of all the events of my life since then. Writing the final chapter means that those shared memories will therefore be another one of many closing chapters. More significantly, writing the last chapter will be the final act of letting go of Eugene.

As a novelist in any genre, the author gets to choose the end of their novel. However, my book can only have one ending. Even so, the weight of writing about the inevitable ending was so much more than writing the final chapter of a book. It is surprising how many versions one can write of a chapter that could only have one immovable ending. Not only was it the end of a chapter in a book, it was the end of Eugene’s life, his life with Pieter and a life of so many shared memories and experiences. I felt a huge responsibility in closing the book in a way that would continue the celebration of his inspirational life.

Having made a drastic change to my career in order to devote myself to writing the tribute, it is also closing a personal chapter. It is time to reflect on the many options I have available as to what the next stage of both my life and career is going to look like. Having choices can be both liberating as well as paralyzing. In the absence of a crystal ball, one has to try and determine what the various choices may lead to and therefore which is to be the most appealing. The act of choosing also closes the doors on alternative realities and one will never know what living those realities might have been like. However, being an incurable optimist I do not waste time in mourning lost opportunities but instead immerse myself in the unfolding reality of the choices I make. The end of my book is therefore personally also the start of a new beginning.

The ending also means I now need to engage with the daunting process of editing and publishing. Having made the decision to self-publish this time, there is a whole new set of rules I have to learn. How much of this final stage of the process do I do myself and how much do I contract out? And if I do, how do I find the right people? Or, will they find me?

These are the next set of questions I have to answer on this journey. Not only are they practical decisions associated with the process of publishing but more importantly, it is making the right choices for Eugene and Pieter. Ultimately this is their book.

The Authentic Self – What does it Mean?

I have always enjoyed a good, philosophical debate as to the perceived rights and wrongs about life, the world and our existence within it. Which is probably why I was originally attracted to academia. Academics used to get paid to pontificate such weighty subjects on behalf of society, but alas less and less so. I digress, a topic for another day.

Given my attraction to such matters, my eye caught the invitation from the local philosophical society to attend a debate on Authentic Ageing. Being of a certain age, combined with an interest in philosophical debate, it was irresistible. The speaker who set the scene for the ensuing debate was a Professor of Psychiatry, specializing in aging and its associated consequences. I was intrigued by how the speaker would be linking the idea of authenticity with ageing.

The question of authenticity is a fascinating one and closely associated with what we might define as our identity. As a coach, clients would often reveal an internal tug of war between what they perceive their identity to be versus what others, and often their organisations, expect them to be. As you can imagine, there is no simple definition of authenticity and philosophers have spent a considerable time debating what the definitive definition might be. In my simplistic and humble opinion authenticity is the unique way in which each one of us expresses and engages with the nature of Being. The challenge for all of us is to accommodate and integrate with the authenticity of others.

Often society, cultures and organisations make a value judgment as to what is deemed authentic or inauthentic. Pressure is then exerted consciously or subconsciously on those within these structures to subscribe to these definitions and their associated behaviours. Ageing is no different and there are pressures on people of all ages to behave in what society deems to be appropriate behaviour for that age group. The tension then arises how one accommodates the expectations of society and the authenticity of the individual when these may be in conflict.

However, I also believe that our authentic selves evolve through our interactions with others and life experiences and that this is both desirable and necessary. It allows us to define, develop and express more of who we are. The challenge for each one of us is to take ownership of what constitutes our authentic self and organize our lives accordingly. I subscribe to the suggestion of Kierkegaard that there is a time to break out and not only become authentic, but possibly even eccentric. Being less inclined to conform as we get older, it might be the right time to do just that.

What I didn’t however expect from the debate on authentic ageing was that it would prove to be a very significant topic for me on a number of different levels. Those of you who have been following my blog would know by now that the purpose of it is to share with you my journey of writing a tribute to my brother, Eugene and his partner, Pieter and their challenges of coping with terminal cancer. So, in the first instance, as gays the concept of authenticity is probably even more significant to them than for heterosexual couples, in particular during the era and culture within which Eugene and Pieter grew up.

My original interest in the topic was that being of a certain age and adjusting to a different cycle in life, I was interested in exploring how I would now define my authentic self. Would it be different from say five or ten years ago? If so, what would change and how would I now express my authentic self? It is both scary as well as exciting and there is the hint of an opportunity to redefine or rediscover aspects of my self that may have been hidden beneath layers of conformity to external expectations.

Finally, the bonus was that it also helped me to explore the challenges of writing and made me reflect on what authenticity might mean to me as a writer and the act of writing. I have taken the time to explore the many do’s and don’ts of writing as I perceive them. However, I have come to the conclusion that being an authentic writer means I need to first and foremost express my authentic self. It is therefore, as I have alluded to in previous blogs, part of the journey of finding my own voice as a writer and interpreting, accepting or rejecting any perceived rules of what constitutes good writing.

In the words of Shakespeare, To thine own self be true!

Deep Diving

During my days both as a lecturer as well as a coach, I would often draw on metaphors to help explain concepts to students and clients. Metaphors offer a very powerful method in helping us to make sense of our world and experiences. In a previous post entitled, The Garden of Writing, I explored the power of metaphors in aiding the writing process. This week I was once again reminded of the insights to be drawn from metaphors.

On my bucket list has been the desire to experience the thrill of diving and to have the opportunity to explore some of the many wonders hidden below the surface of the sea. My brother-in-law, a keen diver, finally persuaded me to realize my dream and to enrol in a trial dive with his diving school in Spain. The first challenge was to try and pour myself into a very tight fitting wet suit, followed by unbelievably heavy weights and all the necessary breathing equipment. I was convinced that I would sink like a stone to the bottom of the ocean and never be able to make my way back to the surface. I also came to the conclusion that it was not an elegant sport as wet hair and diving gear doesn’t show off your best qualities! I just hoped that all the energy and effort in getting kitted out was going to be worthwhile.

I was surprised at how difficult it was to draw the necessary air through the mouthpiece and it was a technique I had to first master before attempting to go beneath the water’s surface. A very patient instructor finally persuaded me that I was ready and adjusted the buoyancy of my suit that allowed me to slowly slip deeper and deeper below the surface of the water. I had some moments of panic and had to resurface to try and deal with an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. Eventually I succeeded. It was worth the effort as even in the shallow area where we were diving, the variety of sea life was breathtaking.

I was reminded of the ancient poem of Beowulf who set out to rid King Hrothgar of the threat of Grendel, a monster who lived at the bottom of a nearby lake. He had brought fear and death to King Hrothgar’s kingdom for many years. Beowulf successfully slayed the monster, but unbeknown to him and the Kingdom of Hrothgar, Grendel’s mother was plotting her revenge hidden in the dark depths of the lake. After a faithful advisor of King Hrothgar was taken and killed by Grendel’s mother, Beowulf once again set out to seek revenge. In order to destroy Grendel’s mother, Beowulf had to face his own fears and follow her into the depths of the lake to her lair.

As writers we too have to plunge into the depths of our subconscious minds and face and overcome our fears represented by Grendel and his mother. We have to gird ourselves with the courage of a warrior to slay the fears that may paralyze us and prevent us from bringing to the surface the hidden treasures of our minds and emotions. These monsters can seem so frightening and fearsome and it is easier to remain on the surface where it is safe and secure. However, if we are to do justice to our writing efforts, we need to have the courage to seek out the monsters and face them head on.

These monsters represent many fears and each one of us will have our own demons to slay. They may include the fear of failure, the fear of not being good enough or endowed with the talent of writing. I believe if we are to produce writing that will inspire or evoke debates and discussions we need to dive deep into the swamp of our emotions.

Just as my experimentation with diving required courage and managing an overwhelming sense of survival, so does delving into the depths of our emotions require enormous courage. Like Beowulf we need to confront our demons in order to surface the hidden treasures jealously guarded by the demons of our emotional swamps.

When is Enough Enough?

I have just returned from a week or so on the beautiful island of Corsica. It is a very popular holiday destination with people from mainland France and perhaps less well known and less frequently visited by English speaking countries such as the U.K. This is slowly changing with more regular and direct flights to Corsica. My experience of the island caused me to reflect on yet another aspect of the process of writing my tribute to Eugene and Pieter, which I will explain later on.

First of all, a word of warning, the island is not a suitable holiday destination for anyone with a fear of heights or suffering from vertigo! I have always been a mountain lover and as a passionate skier I have spent much of my time on mountains. My love of mountains is in the genes as my mother’s family comes from the heart of the mountains in Switzerland. My family learnt to ski and navigate mountains at the same time as learning to walk. I therefore feel suitably qualified to assure you that the mountains on Corsica give any other mountain range a run for their money.

The island is one big mountain range. It consists of one layer of mountains after the other like layers of flaky pastry punctuated by deep, narrow valleys. One of the fascinating things on the island is that animals of all description roam around freely from dogs, mountains goats to cows. To my utter amazement and contrary to any experience and belief I’ve ever had of cows, these have developed the skill of traversing steep mountainsides and emulate their much smaller and agile cousins, the mountain goats. How these animals find their way back to their local pastures or farmers keeping track of their herds is an anathema.

We had every intention of driving around, visiting all the main tourist spots and towns during our stay but this was an ambition very quickly thwarted after our first trip to visiting some of the villages on the ‘must see’ list. There are virtually no roads that do not involve traversing narrow mountain roads and a journey that would normally take an hour in most other countries where I’ve travelled takes at least three. It is a busy island with a lot of traffic and despite being out of the holiday season the roads continues to carry numerous coaches ferrying tourists around the island, not to mention local buses for commuters. One particular journey we thought would take 2-3 hours took us nearly 7 hours.

Tourists not familiar with mountain driving etiquette continue to drive as they would elsewhere, which is on the rear bumper of the car in front instead of leaving the required minimum of 200m gap between cars. The result is that meeting a coach on the narrow winding mountain road means that there is no room for maneuver and neither cars nor coaches have the space for reversing to allow others to pass. And believe me, there is no opportunity for any leeway as there is only the empty space of drops of hundreds of meters between you and the edge of the road. So, on our first trip we very soon found ourselves on a gridlock road with traffic not going up or down. The only thing we could do was to take the opportunity of spending a couple of hours on a photo shoot of the breathtaking scenery until inch by inch space was cleared for coaches and cars to pass.

After this hair-raising experience we thought we would take the advice of an earlier traveller to the island and make use of the local train. It consists of one line that eventually forks to the west of the island on the one side and the other track continuing to the northern finger of the island. We should have guessed that it would not be an ordinary train journey. Without a shadow of doubt the scenery was as spectacular as those found on the car journey and there were no coaches to look out for coming around the tight hairpin bends. However, it was a very narrow railway line hugging the side of the mountain, snaking around tight bends with equal drops of significant spaces of emptiness. Although the train didn’t need to negotiate coaches blocking its way around the tight corners, but instead it had to negotiate the mountain climbing cows, goats and the odd pig.

The train driver took it all in his stride and disconcertingly took his eyes of the track while chatting to the conductor and sharing photos on their mobile phones. This was not engendering any confidence, especially when negotiating a tight bend across a viaduct spanning a valley some thousands of feet below. The train journey reminded me why I had given up on the various white knuckle rides to be found at theme parks; I am just too old to be scared half to death! We intended taking the left fork of the train line the next day, but decided that once was enough.

So how did my experience of negotiation the mountains of Corsica allow me to reflect on my writing? Well, as I mentioned I am passionate about mountains but after our various experiences of these majestic and breathtaking mountains, I began to think that enough is enough. There comes a point when any experience tips into this category and I then asked myself what will be the enough limit of my book and that which I will share about Eugene, Pieter and their experiences of their own white knuckle ride living with terminal cancer?

How many memories do I share with my prospective readers? How much would they want to or be capable of reading? When would enough be enough and what do I include and what do I omit? At this moment of my journey I do not have the answer and it will no doubt only become clear when I embark on the editing and rewriting stage. For now it is back to my own more gentle and comforting mountains in our part of the Languedoc region in mainland France.

The Fear of Letting Go

When I embarked on this journey of writing my tribute to my brother Eugene and his partner, Pieter, I did not anticipate the many decisions associated with process of writing. Ignorance is bliss! Being a novice to any endeavor means we are able to approach it with the naivety and wonder of a child. However, as we become more familiar with the subject we also become aware of the many challenges and choices we need to make.

As I am getting closer to completing the first draft of my book, I am aware of feelings of unease that are beginning to surface. I have spent so much time, energy and emotions on writing my book and now the time to share it with the world is drawing closer. For the duration of writing my book it was just me my feelings and reflections and the many memories of Eugene and the life he had lived. It was like being involved in a secret relationship. Now the time has nearly come for me to share that special relationship with others.

One of the many reasons that makes letting go of any piece of writing difficult is the need for perfection. No matter how well it is written, we can always rewrite it in different ways that may either subtly or substantially change the meaning thereof. The peril of perfection also means you are never satisfied with what you have written and you are always looking for the perfect way to express yourself and your ideas. The internal critic is forever striving for mythical perfection and if you let go and bring your writing into the world, the opportunity for further improvement will no longer be possible.

There is also the emotional element of letting go of a particular piece of writing. It is your baby and you have created it over a period of time and accepting that it has grown up and need to go into the world is part of the challenge. I also have enough self-awareness to know that once I let go of my book and put it out into the world, it will in some way be like letting go of Eugene and the shared life we had. It will bring a finality to the knowledge that future experiences I will encounter will be without Eugene’s knowledge and without the opportunity to share it with him.

Any creative process, writing included, requires a partnership between technique as well as emotions. It is much safer to focus on the technique and learning to craft words and sentences with technical expertise, but it is not enough. We need to be present in our writing, sharing our uncensored passions that come from the heart. We need to have the courage to dive into the depths of our emotions. This is all very well when it is just you and your writing, but sharing it with the world is a different kettle of fish.

Associated with the emotional challenge of letting go of a piece of writing is the possible criticism from others. It is inevitable that some readers will be offended by some of my statements, disagree with the opinions voiced and disapprove of my style of writing. The reality is that you can’t please all of them all of the time and this book was not written to please anyone. Its sole purpose was to share the story of two exceptional people with whoever may be interested in reading about their journey with terminal cancer. The challenge is to know when to let go and when enough is enough.

Ultimately it is about letting go of the need for approval, the fear of judgement, the fear of doing it right, the fear of ridicule, the fear of failure, the fear of upsetting others and so the list goes on. I will therefore in due course gather the courage to put my writing out there for all to see.

Weaknesses of the Flesh

In my tribute to Eugene and Pieter, I spend some time introducing the nature of the environment in which Eugene and I were brought up. In order to understand my brother, his experiences and the type of person he was it is necessary to understand the environment which shaped him in so many ways.

A number of events this week reminded me just how deeply the culture of our immediate environment contributes to our behaviours. Their influence will more often than not determine the choices we do or don’t make. We had a strict upbringing that advocated moderation in every way other than work. Our Calvinistic environment meant that working hard was seen as honorable. This philosophy was possibly taken to extremes by a further belief that considered idleness to be avoided at all costs. An idle state was seen as leading to all manner of bad behaviours that will eventually get one into trouble. However, the result was that one was forever driven to be active and suffered feelings of guilt when indulging in any time for relaxation.

Coupled with this need to avoid idleness was the exercise of constraint over impulses including that of joyfulness. Tears were expected to follow too much jollity. A family of four children on holiday in our village with their parents once again reminded me of this saying. Our house in France faces the village square. This means we are very much in the heart of the comings and goings of the village. Opposite our house is the second home of a family living in one of the large cities in France, which they normally rent out during the summer months

The family holidaying here at the moment came across as a very jovial and joyful lot. They spent hours playing and chasing each other in the pool, accompanied by what I thought at times to be excessive shrieks of laughter (or was this my own cultural values of constraint kicking in?). I reflected on how rarely I have encountered such a happy family with parents clearly enjoying every minute with their children. However, today saw an equally vocal argument between the parents with a visible distressing impact on the younger boy. Of course every family has disagreements, but I was reminded of our cultural admonishment that just as night follows day, tears would inevitably follow laughter.

A few days ago I read a very moving posting of a fellow blogger who is sharing her experiences of coping with terminal cancer. Having responded to treatment for a period of time, her cancer returned with a vengeance. Her oncologist confirmed the inevitable, but guaranteed she would at least have the summer months. She decided to delay the treatment she would need to help with the increased pain for two months and have a final summer with her family, travelling to the States for a holiday they had always planned for ‘one day’. Unfortunately, that ‘one day’ never came as she took a sudden turn for the worst.

This triggered in my mind the debate between delayed vs instant gratification. Again, there are no hard and fast rules. Exercising constraint where gratification is concerned teaches us self-discipline and helps us to achieve our goals. On the other hand, seeking instant gratification can have negative consequences for both the individual as well as others. An example that comes to mind is the greed of the bankers and their addiction for immediate gratification, which has resulted in the collapse of many economies. The repercussions of their pursuit for instant gratification have had significant and long-term consequences for many people around the world.

How does all this relate to Eugene and his journey with terminal cancer? In the first instance, his work ethic meant he continued to work in a stressful environment despite the pain and side affects from his treatment that he had to endure. The positive of this was it helped to take his mind off coping with cancer and everything that went with that. On the other hand would he have had more time and energy in the early stages of cancer to allow himself to indulge in things he denied himself because they may have been seen as too indulgent or frivolous? Having delayed gratification until later in his life, he had run out of time, health and energy to enjoy the things he had always dreamt of doing once he retired.

My conclusion is that it is ultimately about maintaining a happy balance without having the pendulum swing too far from one side to the other.

The Creative Inspiration of Growing Tomatoes

I discovered this week that growing tomatoes and creative writing have a lot in common. My mother had a passion for plants and she successfully grew many exotic species, including an abundant supply of fruit and vegetables. In order to share her interest, my father decided to try his hand at growing some tomatoes. In keeping with his approach when embarking on a new adventure, my father spent time researching to find at all he needed to know about growing tomatoes.

These were the days before modern technology and the Internet and research involved visiting the local library to find the relevant books. He spent many evenings pouring over his chosen books which offered advice on the most appropriate soil, which tomatoes grow best in what climate, the required amount of water and light and so forth. Finally, and with exasperation after a few days, he asked no one in particular, just how is it possible for any tomatoes to actually make their way to the table? Despite all the advice of how to grow tomatoes, there was equally an overwhelming amount of information on how to avoid the many diseases and insects waiting to sabotage your tomatoes from reaching maturity.

I remembered this story when making a tomato salad for lunch one day this week. During the summer months we are blessed with juicy, sun drenched tomatoes in France. I always think of my mother and how much she would have loved the many varieties of fruit and vegetables we have to choose from this time of the year. The supermarkets overflow with mountains of bright, colourful displays of melons, peaches, nectarines, apricots, aubergines, peppers, to name only a few.

The anecdote of my father and his tomatoes resonates with me as I am grappling with the endless advice on how to write creatively. Unlike my father, I have infinite access to information on the Internet, a multitude of blogs filled with advice, not to mention all the rules to abide by if you are ever going to get anywhere near being a mediocre, not to mention, a successful creative writer. Many a day I find myself wondering whether I have bitten off more than I can chew. I spend almost as much time on learning how to write as the actual writing itself!

One of the challenges of speaking more than one language is that you don’t necessarily speak any one perfectly. I am always conscious to avoid translating from one language into another, especially the translation of metaphors. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to translate meaning accurately from one language to another. Not to mention the endless rules on grammar, guaranteed to kill any spark of creativity or inspiration. In my case I have to pay more attention to the use of grammar than a native speaker might have to do. Another example of the many rules you have to bear in mind when writing is that of split infinitives. The rule against split infinities appeared in the 1800s, yet language is a living thing and continues to evolve. Should we therefore be gagged and bound by rules dating back hundreds of years? I have no doubt that the purists among you will say with passion and conviction that of course we do!

All the many dos and don’ts of writing seem to imply that they separate those from who can write from those who can’t. Is writing therefore merely about mastering its many rules and the more capable you are of doing so, the more successful you are at writing? What about inspiration and creativity? Where do they fit in? Creative writing allows us to entertain, create awareness, express ourselves and share emotions, feelings and thoughts. Losing sight of the purpose of writing and getting side tracked by too many rules is in danger of derailing the creative process, especially as a novice.

I was therefore relieved and comforted when I came across the statement of Alan Gillespie (@afjgillespie), which reads: “I always tell students that there are no set rules for writing and they can write whatever they like.” However, he goes on to say that there are two rules he encourages students to use, namely “show, don’t tell” and “all adverbs must die”. I concur that there are many “rules” which will enhance the product of our writing. However, from personal experience I suggest this is not the place to start when building your confidence as a creative writer.

So, just as with my father’s challenge of growing tomatoes, there are many rules for me to take into account if I am likely to do justice to the tribute for Eugene and Pieter.