The Irish Way

I’ve spent my life to this point in a very stressed out, tough, angry part of the country. [You know I love you, Philly, but it’s true.] This is not to say the Irish never get upset or angry, of course they do. But it’s usually at the government, corruption, inequity, persecutors of people and of course the rival football or rugby club. As long as I stay outraged at wrongdoing and don’t start cheering for County Mayo, I’ll fit right in.

The village I live in is small and as a result, everyone knows one another. Even a transplant like me. For instance, the other day in taking my daily walk, I traversed a part of Main Street and as I did, I encountered the postman. I intended to wave hello and keep going but he stopped me and said, “Hiya, hold on I’ve got your post for you.” Now, mind you, I was nowhere near my house and I’ve only met the man twice in the time we’ve lived here. Granted, “the American woman” probably stands out in the small crowd, but already I’m familiar. That’s a wonderful thing. My mail carrier in Bucks County never addressed me by name and frequently mis-delivered my mail even after 14 years.

Riding the bus to and from Galway is always a pleasurable education, too. All the neighbors catch up on the news of their families and the state of the world. “Hiya, Mary. How’re ye keeping? Ah, grand, that’s grand. God bless ye.” The trip home is like being on the school bus —the driver, who everybody also knows— stops at all the old ladies’ houses so they don’t have so far to walk. “This next house on the left, Gerry, if ye don’t mind. Thanks a million.” How cool is that? It was a miracle if any of my Bucks County neighbors waved hello as I walked by. I only knew their names because their mail was so frequently mis-delivered.

And the local radio station: Galway Bay FM has its own funny charm. It’s always playing on the bus so I get to hear it often enough. They have call-in contests and the DJ always finds some connection to the caller. “Hi, we’ve got Julie from Loughrea on the line. How’re ye, Julie? Now, where do ye live in Loughrea? Northside? Say, do ye know the McGettigans? They’re two houses down? Ah, they’re great pals of mine. Went to school with Jamie, don’t ye know…” Eventually they get to the call-in contest question. It takes forever, but it’s pretty hilarious.

The radio also gives a rundown of the local death notices, the subsequent viewing location and the funeral arrangements. And on the other side of surreal they also provide the television lineup for RTE One, including plot synopses and teaser/trailers for each program. All I can say about that is, it’s no wonder everyone goes to the pub. Now, since I’m five hours or more ahead of you folks back home, I’m off to have a pint!

When you have all the time in the world…

This writer’s life.

I haven’t got a “real” job at the moment, I have all the time in the world and yet, I am having trouble focusing on the task of writing. While taking a break can be healthy and restorative, there is a risk of losing momentum, sometimes forever.

This must sound indulgent, but I really hope it doesn’t come off that way. Most aspiring authors are trying to fit writing in around work that pays the bills. I have the ‘luxury’ of being at home for the time being. Nevertheless, I’ve been a very busy woman for a very long time. I’ve been secularly employed from the age of 16 and this is the first time in all those years, I haven’t earned an income [aside from very modest book royalties, which only amount to the cost of an occasional dinner out]. Anyway, my plan has been to use this time to concentrate on the next novel. I just can’t seem to get going. I have lots of excuses: taking care of the business of the international move, my office isn’t set up yet and my writing space is important to me, the house is too empty and I need to get a cat… Even writing blog posts instead of working on the novel! Doh!

I suppose it’s easy to procrastinate, knowing you have all the time in the world. Creative pursuits, unless of course, you have been commissioned to complete a project, and are on a deadline, tend to be more fluid. The book always needs further revision, the painting needs just a little more touching up or the drawing needs a slight adjustment. These things can become forever incomplete or unfinished. Even creativity needs to have a certain amount of discipline imposed upon it. It’s time I made a schedule and stuck to it. Plan my writing time and prioritize. And even if the writing isn’t good, developing the routine will be. Mediocre writing can always be revised. But first you have to write it. I really don’t have all the time in the world. It is a commodity that once expended is gone forever. Best get back to work!

Wednesday Morning Coffee

I’m still not back to my writing routine and all my art supplies are en route. The shipping container hasn’t yet arrived, though the ship has docked in Rotterdam so it will be here soon, I hope. Everything I own except for what went into my suitcases is in this box:

It’s not much… just books, winter clothes, artwork and some kitchen gear. And of course, Nana’s hope chest and my easel. Even so, I’m having a hard time remembering what I have coming. That’s a sure sign that you can get along without a lot of stuff. It will be nice to have familiar things around me, though. The house feels generic without our personal touch.

This is definitely a country of storytellers. Most everyone you meet, takes the time to talk. And when they ask, “How are you?” [actually it’s “how are ye?”] they really want to know. When you ask, be prepared to get a lengthy reply. And in entertaining detail. It’s really lovely. I imagine this is the thing that will get me writing again –the listening to everyone’s stories. That and the abundance of history and scenery. We writers are observers of life. And life here promises to be interesting!

This is the Ross Errilly Friary, built in the 1200’s. It’s just 3 km from my house.