Menna Van Praag's Blog, page 35

Autumn Leaves…

Today was a perfect autumn day. O and I went out (in big cuddly jumpers) to kick puddles of leaves and watch flashes of orange, yellow and red being blown in gusts of autumn wind. It was beautiful, seeing the leaves falling like sunset confetti from the trees, hearing O calling out “lel-lo! lel-lo!’ as he stood transfixed by the colours floating towards him. I often find myself (especially during the weeks when the garden explodes with beautiful flowers) wanting to stop time and keep the weather exactly as it is forever. And yet, of course, the transience of nature is an integral part of its beauty, especially during autumn. Each day of bright leaves and fading light is extra precious because it’ll last only a few moments before taking us into the darkness of winter. Having autumn leaves all year round wouldn’t be the same at all. Which is what I always have to remind myself, every time I wish that autumn would last forever…

The Art of Listening

Last night I returned from an AMAZING weekend workshop in Hamburg: The Art of Listening with Ariel & Shya Kane. I’ve learnt a lot about true listening from them over the years, but this weekend I discovered the profound impact listening has on the listener (me) as well as the person being listened to. We did an exercise in partners. Person A spoke a sentence, twice. The first time, person B really listened and the second time they pretended to listen. My partner was my husband. His sentence was “you have beautiful eyes” (cute) and when I listened, I adored him. But when I only pretended to listen, I felt nothing. And yet he hadn’t changed, his sentence hadn’t changed, only my behaviour had changed. Of course I still loved him in the second moment but I simply didn’t feel it. Isn’t that incredible? It showed me so clearly that we get out of life what we put into it. When we make the conscious effort to connect with people – any and all people – our hearts open to them. And when we’re lost in our thoughts we shut off our hearts. So, when people speak to us, it’s well worth stopping whatever we might be doing/thinking to really and truly listen…

Pic: posing with a rather incredible marzipan sculpture at Hamburg airport, sadly free samples weren’t available.

Writing is, by its nature, a solitary pastime and writers...

Writing is, by its nature, a solitary pastime and writers – especially when they’re just starting out – can forget to find themselves external sources of inspiration. They think they have to do it all alone. Such is often the case with life. People find it hard to reach out for support. I certainly used to. It takes courage to connect with others, but that courage is usually well rewarded, in writing and in life. This evening I chatted with my fantastic first reader (Alice Jago) about the plot of my new book – it had a flaw I was finding impossible to solve – and together, in about fifteen minutes, we fixed it. Had I tried to do it alone, I’d have spent a good three weeks knocking my head against a wall. Instead it was effortless, easy and fun. There’s no merit in doing it alone (whatever it is) it’s usually painful and often fruitless. Personally, I recommend reaching out whenever you can, the results (in writing and in life) are often nothing sort of miraculous!

Pic: “Book of Spells” – I found this on my favourite notebook stall on the Sunday market and couldn’t resist.

good health: the greatest gift of all

I woke this morning at five am, in nearly as much pain as when I went into labour. OK, perhaps a slight exaggeration (storytellers are prone to stretch the truth) but not much of one. I’m fine now, at home in bed with lots of nice drugs gradually dulling the pain of an extremely acute urine infection. Anyway, the point of this little tale, is a reminder – should you so want one – to bask in the beauty of bodily health whenever you have it. Over the years I’ve had my fair share of serious health problems (a life-threatening DVT & walking under a collapsing chimney being the highlights) so I thought I appreciated the delicious joy of a pain-free day. But the incident this morning gave me a little wake up call. And – now that the pain’s abated – I’m grateful for it. Because there is nothing quite like a mercifully brief dose of agony to make one incredibly grateful for good health!

ps, with my bday coming up, I’m spending far too much time on Etsy lately. Last night I fell in love with this: Mediterranean Treasures by Malena Valcarcel. Now I just need to persuade my lovely husband that I NEED it )

The Great British Bake Off

I’m absolutely addicted to the Great British Bake Off. It’s – for those of you sadly oblivious to the whole phenomenon – a TV show where 12 bakers compete every week to bake the most glorious cakes, breads, cookies, macaroons… Needless to say, I can’t watch without consuming some sort of baked good (preferably several) at the same time. Of course, amid all the sugar and flour, there is the occasional flood of tears when someone drops a tray of buns on the floor. Being British, the stiff upper lip is usually maintained, making it all the more dramatic when some poor soul is undone by a collapsed cake. Are you watching? Who are you rooting for? I love Glen but my money’s on Ruby to win!

Baker & Spice, South Kensington, London. I visited last week, purchasing and consuming: lemon butter biscuits, oatmeal & raisin cookies and an absolutely divine mixed berry brioche.

This afternoon I was deep in new book edits when O’s baby...

This afternoon I was deep in new book edits when O’s babysitter returned early. I confess, I wanted to stay with the book (I get a little tunnel-vision when I’m on a tight deadline) but O wanted to go into the garden and play. So I switched off the computer and took him into the sunshine. At first my thoughts were still with the book, but I brought myself back to being with him and we spent a lovely late September afternoon picking apples, foraging for mushrooms and kicking up leaves. We went on adventures and found fairies hiding in trees. Three hours and many bedtime books later, O was asleep and I returned to my own book, feeling all full of love and freshly inspired to write…

My very first writing workshop yesterday was AMAZING!!! I...

My very first writing workshop yesterday was AMAZING!!! I loved my students & I loved teaching them more than I could possibly have imagined. It was an absolute delight to share my passion with these wonderful women. Their courage and brilliance touched my heart. I fell in love with them all. I look forward to seeing their published works out in the world – I’m sure it won’t be long. What great joy there is in connecting with beautiful people who share your passion. It’s funny to think that I once thought I couldn’t teach. It felt so natural, effortless and easy, as if I’d been doing it all my life. I’m so looking forward to the next workshop. Meanwhile, I’ll be launching an online program soon… watch this space!

A rather cool London Pub near St Paul’s Cathedral.

“There is no great writing, only great rewriting.” ― Just...

“There is no great writing, only great rewriting.” ― Justice Brandeis

Now, I don’t agree entirely with this quote. Sometimes I’m blessed with a perfect sentence that drops straight into my head & heart without any intervention on my part. However, it’s certainly true that most great writing is a product of rewriting. Which is why, when we’re starting out at any endeavour, we shouldn’t compare ourselves to those in our field who are already successful. I remember, when I was an aspiring writer, I’d compare my first drafts to all the published books I loved so much. Of course, now I know that most of those published books went through soooo many drafts their authors probably lost count. I wrote about 26 drafts of Hope Street. Perhaps published writers should consider making their first drafts available on the internet – as a sort of public service. On second thoughts, perhaps not… )

Pic: on cold rainy days like today, it makes me feel warm to look back on beach pics from Madeira.

“All you have to do is write one true sentence.” Ernest H...

“All you have to do is write one true sentence.” Ernest Hemingway

I love the simplicity of this. Often, when writers are starting out, they write far too much – in terms of plot, description, backstory etc – because they’re attempting to compensate for feelings of inadequacy. I know I did. I thought: who am I to be offering my poor scribblings to the great libraries of literature? It took me many years to be okay with not being able to write like Austen or Dickens but just being able to write like me. It took me longer still to embrace and enjoy it. It’s hardly surprising though, since it took me just as long to stop feeling inadequate in comparison to others and feel good being me. In this way, Hemingway’s advice is perfect. We can all write what’s true to us, just as we can all be true to ourselves. And, ultimately, this is the greatest gift we can give to the world and the greatest joy that we will know.

Pic: O has a current, adorable, obsession with wearing his mama’s shoes…

“What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”A few ...

“What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”

A few days ago I realised something very cool. I don’t know how it happened, but I got into the mental space where I knew I’d pass my driving test. Not simply believed, but knew. I remember I did this after writing Men, Money & Chocolate. I knew I’d get it published, I had no idea how, but somehow I would. It’s funny because, when you’re in that mindset everything shifts from being possible to becoming practical. You start thinking: “okay, since this is happening, what do I need to do now? What’s the next step that’ll take me to this place I’m going?” Which is why I decided to drive to Oxford, it was the next practical step on the route to passing my test. With MM&C it was self-publishing and touting it around bookshops (with the aid of chocolate flapjacks) until I’d sold enough to submit it to the publisher I knew would publish it. So, instead of just believing you’ll succeed at something, trying knowing it instead. What will you do next?

Pic: Scriptorium in Oxford – my fav stationary shop.