A Story to Tell

Lonely Furrow Company comes across lots of different stories. At present, my writer development coaching is helping a travel writer, a psychologist, someone suffering with depression who wants to use creative writing as a way to make sense of her state, an inspirational writer, a novelist who suffers from a tendency to procrastinate, a financial expert and so on and so forth.

And, as a ghostwriter, I am helping two people with their autobiographies. Whether these ‘books’ are published or not, they don’t mind. They just want to tell their story. These people – in my view, wrongly - lack the confidence to write on their own. But each has something very special to say. And the world would be a poorer place if they didn’t say it.

But does everyone have something to say? I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t - only a few people who don’t believe they have. Do you belong to this group?

If so, perhaps you’d like to take a moment to do this exercise.

Think of something that happened to you – as a child. Write it down. Leave it for a day. Go back and think about it carefully. Ask yourself these questions:

· Why does this memory stick in your mind?
· What did you feel about what happened at the time?
· What do you feel about what happened now?
· What strengths did that event reveal about you?
· Could you use those strengths more in your present life?
· What weaknesses did that event show up?
· Could you do more of something to prevent any weaknesses still with you today from getting in your way?
· What would you say to you as a child about handling that event?
· What could your child-self tell you to help you in your present life?

And what will you do with this new piece of knowledge?

You may need to think about this memory a little longer so you can use the insights it gives you to make sense of something in your life. You may feel upset – and need to turn to a friend or someone who can help you in this. Or you may feel empowered.

And you may have the beginnings of a creative piece of writing here.

Phoenixing

Well, that’s it. Autumn’s here. Time for a surge of baking and thinking about Christmas – although personally I’m still mopping up after a dreadful summer – and I’m not just talking about the weather. Here, we’ve had two bereavements and a serious diagnosis in the family.

This could have been expected to keep me out of the shipping lanes – except that some beguiling experiences were offered to me. And I couldn’t resist. I’m a freelance journalist, after all.

As a result, I found myself visiting a nuclear submarine (the Astute) in Cumbria, interviewing farmers about rural suicides in Devon and Northamptonshire and whispering to a wonderful horse called Seren in the Cotswolds. All articles will be published this Autumn.

So why am I telling you all this? Well, the thought for the month is: throughout all the traumas, I found that of the two aspects of work/life balance, work was the more restful and restorative!

Particularly the writing bit. The mindfulness required means you come away from writing in a state of total relaxation – with an almost divine serenity. And the truly wonderful thing is: you can go back there at any time. All you need is paper, pen and a story to tell.

The wake of trauma.

Hello! I'm back - after a dreadful summer - bloodied but unbowed. I won't go into the details but - suffice to say - I currently feel jangled by the superficiality of everything. I'm seriously concerned about over-planning at the moment and need encouragement to get started again.
Has anyone any suggestions?

Seafarers' fatigue

Any stories to tell about the above?

I was talking to an old salt the other day about fatigue and he explained that he used to sit in a small boat offshore for 48 hours on watch on 4.5 hours sleep. As an eight-hours at least sleep person, I can't imagine caring whether ships bumped into each other or not after a while. In my usual state, I'd care very much. Poor sleep means poor decisions. How do you keep fresh on watch? Answers please to Lizzie Gates.

And very many thanks.

Another Book idea - craftspeople!

Could you put me in touch with anyone still practising ancient handcrafts (for a living)? I'd like to record their know-how for posterity! Very many thanks, Lizzie.

Caring for a working-age adult with severe depression

Hello!

I wondered whether you could help me with this one. I'm proposing to write an up-beat self-coaching book for people who have to care for a relative (adult) suffering from severe depression. I am going to do a survey of various networking groups I belong to but I thought it might be worth posting a blog too. What I need are the answers to some fairly straightforward questions:

1 What would be the most useful piece of advice you could give to someone in this situation?

2 What would be the most useful form of help anyone else (individual or professional) could give you?

3 What would you really like to have happened by this time next year? How will you feel?

4 What stands in the way?

5 What is the simplest first step you could take to remove those obstacles?

6 Will you take that step? When will you take it?

Thank you so much for your help.
Lizzie Gates

Countryside noise - the price of mechanisation and efficient husbandry?

When did the countryside get to be so noisy?

As I try to work, I can hear birdsong - loud but good - tractors, diggers, chainsaws - loud, no doubt necessary and bad - and an extraordinary wail. As a child in the forties, this was the sound which would bring adults to a halt in the street, their faces waxy with fear. And now, it's coming over the garden wall from the paddocks beyond. 'Gregor' has a new toy, a vacuum cleaner for hoovering up the horse muck. He - short of leg and broad of shoulder - is leaping on and off his quad to apply this proboscis to any neatly steaming piles extant in the meadowgrass. The siren wail follows his rhythm. And it's the end of an era. Before he found this mechanised version, small girls would move peacefully among the horses at the end of the day - with buckets and shovels and the relationship of man and horse intact. The question is: is it right to insist that human beings continue to engage in physical labour - even though small girls love being with horses and this teaches them a lot - because the noise created by the mechanical alternative is just too awful to listen to comfortably for four hours a day?