Well, it’s bin day again, and that means another week has gone by, not that I measure out my life in terms of rubbish, don’t get that idea. So what have I got to show for my week?
My Christmas wish came true: Cecilia arrived safe and well, and Wendy is fine. So this week, a load dropped from my heart, Some grandmothers (and I am one of them) become increasingly twitchy the nearer it gets to the birth. This is especially the case when there is some history of difficulty and sadness. We (mothers and grandmothers) hold our family in our hearts and dread something awful happening to them. We would rather go through pain or heartbreak than see one of our children go through it. This isn’t an altruistic thing, it’s a gut thing. And I read some research that showed that when women watch someone suffering pain, the pain centres in their brain are stimulated i.e. it is the same part of the brain that would show activity if they themselves were suffering.The results didn’t show this for men.
I also read about some researchers who found Y chromosomes in the bone marrow of the mothers of boys, which I (not being a scientist) interpret to mean that women are physically changed by their babies, and they retain something of the child within their own bodies. Am I drawing the wrong conclusions?
Whether I’m right or wrong, here is the new arrival, wearing the cardigan I made for her:
Apart from Cecilia arriving, the only thing to mention here is an ongoing email discussion with Jane about the new book, specifically about whether one scene is too long. She thinks it is. I think it isn’t. If there are differences of opinion, she usually wins, because she is the superior editor. But I haven’t given up on this particular argument yet.
In the Guardian on Saturday, the author of the winner of both the Carnegie and the Kate Greenaway medals said of his collaboration with the illustrator: “I didn’t always get my way about things (thank God), and we discussed/argued/debated right up till printing. But that’s how the best creative collaborations go.”
….which I find very heartening. Right, Jane. About this scene in Chapter 3…
*the title of my post is a quote from an e e cummings poem. Look it up!
2 comments:
'Well, it’s bin day again, and that means another week has gone by, not that I measure out my life in terms of rubbish.'
This is an amazing observation. It has made me realise that I,and countless other women, I am sure, also measure out the weeks from one bin day to the next.
Its these slice of life lines that make me love your books. Cant wait for 'Plotting for grown-ups'.
Roopa
Thanks so much, Roopa! I am sorry it took three tries for me to see your comment and post it. I was having a break from email today. Anyway, you made my day today with your comment.
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