I used to implore my husband to help me to write as if he could wave a magic wand and make all other responsibilities disappear. I see now that it was wrong. It is up to me to help myself to write, it is up to me to take my writing seriously and show others that it should be taken seriously. I’m currently reading a book that is opening up a brand new path to the opening of my own story and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the evening reading further. In terms of my children’s book, I’m tempted to leave it to one side. Then again, I think of who I wrote it for and ‘leaving it to one side’  is not something I am willing (and able) to do. Thinking about it now I’ve decided to send it to publishers – what harm can it do?

The next time I am asked my occupation, I want to say: “I am a writer.”

One of my earliest memories of her was she and I sitting together and she was teaching me to read from prompt cards I now use to help me remember my Farsi vocabulary. It was my mother who taught me the joy and magic of reading and ultimately consciously or not led me to the desire to write. My mother is the sort of person who would drive two hours to take me to a doctor’s appointment, she would travel across the world just so I would not be alone.  She is the sort of person who would buy me something in an instant, someone who never greets me with an empty hand. My mother is the sort of person I want to be when I am granted the blessing of becoming a mother myself.

I have previously written much on my father and if I’m honest, I fear my mother may feel she is often in his shadow. He was an amazing man, a perfect father and my best friend. But in the same way that a father holds a special place in their child’s consciousness – so too does a mother. When I was younger I was asked what I am most proud of and I replied “being my parents’ daughter.” My mother and I did not always get on. For a while we suffered the typical mother/teenager relationship and I often wondered why she and I didn’t have the seeming idyllic relationship she shared with my sister. We once completed a personality quiz more as a joke than anything else and the result surprised me greatly. We were the same. We thought the same and we felt the same. That was a long time ago. Whether it was the result of the test or of my maturity that came with the passing years (probably the latter), my relationship with my mother is now just as I wish it to be.

For thirty years I have been sharing my life with my mother and now, I want to give her 30 reasons (in no particular order) why I never want that to change:

1- she is funny

2- she can laugh at herself

3- she is caring and considerate without being too protective

4- she gives me space and allows me to follow my dreams, even if she doesn’t agree with them

5- she accepted my husband with unconditional open arms

6- she makes divine pizzas and cakes

7- she always seems to have a  greeting card for every occasion

8- she never arrives anywhere empty-handed

9- her door is always open

10-she is always on the other end of the phone

11-we enjoy the same things

12-she taught me how to be a wife

13-she always turns down my bed and even occasionally leaves a chocolate on my pillow when I come to stay

14-she respects me

15-she is a wonderful grandmother

16-she always see the good in people (and has taught me to do the same)

17-she still plays the latest Wii games at the age of 66 and still knows how to make Mario backflip and twirl at the same time

18-she rarely says a bad word about anyone

19-she will always fight my corner

20-she is generous to a fault

21-she loved my father without reserve

22-she still cuddles me now even though I’m 30 years old

23-she hums throughout the day(and in uncomfortable situations) even though she sometimes profusely denies it

24-she suddenly sighs heavily and exclaims: “oh dear” for no clear apparent reason

25-she shares my joy of eating peanut butter or nutella out of the jar

26-her catchphrase of “there but for the grace of God, go I” has taught me to be grateful for what I have

27-she would fall asleep in her chair in front of a television programme but would insist that she was watching it (in just the same way her mother, my grandmother would)

28- she is the only person I know (apart from my grandmother) who asks me to “push the door to” – she never quite finishes that sentence and I still do not know where she wants me to push the door to exactly.

29-she can always find something on the television to watch at 9:00pm

30-because there are countless more reasons why I never want things to change.

In case you have not realised, if you’re reading this – I love you Mummy!

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 21,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

I don’t know why I’m more excited about Christmas this year than other years. Maybe it’s because it will probably be our last in my mother’s house. We are a growing family and sharing one bathroom between 10 people is becoming a little cumbersome. I love the house where my mother lives. It used to be my home and I always feel so complete when I go back there with memories of my mother and I living there together and memories of my father more or less building it from scratch for her. It’s a very special home.

I will be sharing the beautiful 3 bedroom bungalow with seven adults and three children under the age of eight. There will be no doubt that tempers will waver (mine included). Although we may not get on all of the time, we are still family. I have a somewhat scattered family on my father’s side but through the joys of Facebook I am able to keep in touch with some. That is the beauty of family. No matter how far apart you are, no matter how long it has been since you’ve seen one another, you’re still family. Whatever you do, you can not escape that inalienable truth. They are your connection to your past, your present and to your future. Family keeps you grounded, reminds you of who you are and where you have come from.

 HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!

For two years I have been in my current job and for one and a half years I have quite literally hated it. Sometimes I think of the person I was 2 years ago and the shadow of that person I see today. Part of it is the isolation, another part is down to the disgraceful treatment I have received from my line manager but I have to say the third part is most definitely down to me. I would often dwell on the time that I am wasting in the office and would fail to see the positives.

On Friday I entered my work place information on my Facebook profile (yes, I’m back on Facebook) because although it may not be a job I enjoy, it may not be a job that others respect but it is a job that no one can do as well as I can. After a work event earlier this week, a volunteer commented on how the office would not function without me. That was the first time I had received any form of recognition from a colleague.

One’s mind is a powerful instrument. I had got myself into a mindset that the job was terrible and similarly I no doubt was terrible. Despite how my line manager acted towards me, I should not let him make me feel like a  failure. I know so many people who detest their jobs and I was (notice past tense, please) one of them. My advice to you (and myself) is to remember what you are good at. I am spending more and more time writing and working on hobbies. Perhaps I should not say this but during really slow days at work I sometimes work on my writing, particularly as I am basing my villain on my work colleagues! Success really is the best form of revenge. If anyone tells you that you are bad at your job, that you are not good enough – prove them wrong. Do your utmost to prove them wrong.

This weekend we brought a car. A second-hand car, mind but it’s first-hand in our eyes. I never thought I would think a metal structure on four wheels could be so beautiful but it is. It really is! If I wasn’t working, we wouldn’t be able to afford the car or the lovely house we are now living in. I wouldn’t now have a husband who has synced our car to our phones and who is now reading the manual from front to back.

I’m proud of where I work and you should be to. It may not be ideal and if that is the case it is important to work on making it better. Find what you are good at and excel at that. Love writing? Write a book. Love music? Sing a song. Love acting? Join an acting group. What has helped me is that I have my writing on the side and it is what keeps me going. I want to be a writer and I now feel that I am doing something about it.

For those of you who are looking for work, do not lose heart. I was without work for 6 months. What I regret most during that time is not spending enough time on what I enjoy. I spent the entire time job hunting. I wish now that I spent at least one day a week on writing and writing alone. Who knows where I would  be now? Take this time to learn where you want to be in life and counter balance the disappointment and uncertainty you feel with positivity and comfort. Be a little selfish while you still can.

——

Despite my earlier reluctance to share my past week’s writing experience, I can now proudly declare that I have made a children’s book! It may have been out of paper, uneven and full of sellotape but it looks like a book. Next stop, writing the text and unleashing my terrible drawing skills…  Still no life history of my villain but I’m hoping my little achievement this weekend will propel me further and further forward…

Having said this, I failed to write a passage from the perspective of my villain and I struggled and struggled to find the time and inspiration to achieve this. It was only towards the end of the week that I realised although I knew the name of my villain; her appearance and even her downfall, I didn’t know her. So until I do get to know her, I will hold off on this. Instead, I hope to map out her life history this week. Work on it little by little each day, 30 minutes can certainly go a long way. In terms of my children’s book, I have the materials to actually  turn it into a book, an amateur version of what I dream it can be but it’s a start. I hope that by Christmas I will have it in a book form and will take the story for a test drive with my 7 years old niece.

Time really is precious. Time with your goals, time with yourself, time with your loved ones. Sometimes when I look at the clock in the evenings, I actually get scared of where time goes. How my goals for the evening, day, week sometimes even month can completely go AWOL. I used to get frustrated with myself for allowing time to be swallowed up with anything other than writing, reading or thinking about writing and reading. I didn’t often let it show but would often internalise it, which then in one vicious circle would  result in me feeling like a failure and actually becoming one. Nothing is achievable without a fight.
I am staring at my advent candle thinking of everything that is important to me. Well, in fact it is only one thing and that is my family. Sharing wonderful shopping trips with my mum, holding hands with my husband, laughs with my sister and wonderful cuddles with my niece and nephews. I miss listening to music with my brother. If I had all the success in the world but didn’t have this connection with the people who matter the most to me, it would be no success at all. So I will continue to fight for my right to be called a writer and just hope that one day I will win.

Last night I joined my colleagues at an event after work. Partners were invited and so my husband joined me for the carol concert. I was hoping this would be a chance for us all to get to know one another, despite it being two years since I joined the organisation. Instead I was more or less ignored and not invited for drinks both before and after the show. This no longer bothers me though. I’ve come to expect it. What I enjoyed mostly that night was watching the conductor as he lead the choir and audience in singing. My father dreamt of becoming a conductor but out of respect for his own father who disagreed with his choice, my father did not follow it up.  After the performance, the conductor came back out onto the stage twice to receive applause from the audience. I smiled imaging my handsome father in that same suit bowing to his audience.

I think I take after my father in many ways. One that stands out at the moment is the fact that I work because I have to. His life’s journey took him away from his dreams and before he found his way back onto the path to his dreams, it was too late. Fortunately for me, I can just about see a light at the end of this tunnel  – that there is a chance that I can see my name in print. It will just mean a lot of hard work and dedication. Although I could not magic an extra few hours into the day and complete the NaNoWriMo challenge, I admire those who have. I need to work much harder to reach publication. My ultimate goal is not to actually be published if I am honest but to realise my potential and my ability to write a novel. I have decided that as much as possible I will work a minimum of 30 minutes each night on my writing. That way it doesn’t seem too scary a time commitment when I have a thousand and one other things to contend with.

In just the same way as you need to take the good with the bad, you also need to take the bad with the good. Interspersing what you enjoy in between what you don’t. It makes all the difference. Work is dull, it’s sometimes painful but it’s just a job. It’s not who I am. What I am is a writer, a dreamer, a reader. My father may not have been able to conduct his own orchestra but I want my life to be his very own one man orchestra. Love really is the best motivator.

So this week I am setting myself the goal of completing:

1- the character profile of my villain;

2- to write a passage from the perspective of my villain;

3- to begin the write up of the first (or even second) draft of my children’s book.

It continues to be a constant battle to find 5 minutes to write but I’m looking forward to the week ahead. Looking forward to the daily commute, the fives minutes here and there during the working day, the evenings at home planning the next stage of my writing schedule. That is my plan.  Right now from a Sunday evening perspective, that is the best thing I can do and from where I am sitting, the plan doesn’t look all  that bad.

In fact despite the trepidation of the unknown, I’m in fact feeling a little excited…

If you convince yourself that you are unhappy, that is exactly what you will be.

If you feel you are useless in your job, that is exactly what you will be.

If you feel that you are a writer, that is exactly what you will be.

Okay, maybe the last point was meant for me more than anyone else but I hope you can all catch my drift.

After what seems like an eternity, I finally feel like a writer. I wrote a first draft of a children’s book last week and although I wrote if for my niece in mind, it still feels like such an accomplishment. On a nearly daily basis, I walk past a restaurant and lobby of a hotel. As I glance through the windows on my way past, I see men and women in suits; laptops open and paperwork surrounding them. I see them having meetings over a coffee and cake. I see them and imagine I am them, having meetings with my agent/editor discussing my latest book deal.

I joined NaNoWriMo  (National Novel Writing Month) for November and got as far as registering on the website and that is about it. Disappointed in myself I felt like a failure and soon became one. Life has a habit of getting in the way of my plans, particularly when my plans don’t involve other people. Perhaps that is why I managed to write the first draft of the children’s book. It isn’t meant for me but for my niece, who I am immensely close to. How do unpublished writers juggle full-time jobs, marriage and family commitments without letting anything fall by the wayside?

Once I sank to the deepest depths of my despair, I realised I may not be a published writer but I am still a writer, just an unpublished one. Besides I publish regular blog posts, does that not make me a published writer? Although it may work for others, I am no longer joining forums and groups that encourage their members to write a certain amount each day.  Even the post a week is difficult to follow and according to my calculations I have 5 posts outstanding. 4 after I have published this post. Instead I’ve now set up my own exclusive writing group: NaNoWriYe (National Novel Writing Year). I will each week, set aside special blog entries updating you on my writing progress, and I hope also helping you along the way.

How do I feel now? I’ll let the beautiful Alicia Keys fill you in…

A statement released from FIFA state that allowing the players to wear poppies on their football shirts will open the way for similar initiatives across the world, thereby endangering the apparent neutrality of football. If that is the case and the ban continues, will that not open the way for further initiatives? What other ban will there be? Are we going to ban Christmas because it is a religious holiday and may offend non-Christians? What about Halloween with its pagan origins? What if Christians claimed to be offended, would the holiday be banned too?

If they are to have a one minute silence before the game, thereby ‘forcing’ Spain to do the same – how different is it to wearing a poppy?  Does FIFA not care that the British population will be offended by the ban? That the servicemen and women will not be offended? What about the families who have lost their loved ones in our country’s fight for freedom?

I have German members of my family who are not offended in the slightest by me wearing a poppy. My husband is Iranian and he wears his poppy with pride, as did my father. My husband even travelled to Iran wearing his poppy. His Iranian and German family were not offended by this but interested, impressed, respectful.

The wearing of a poppy and the observance of Remembrance Day is ingrained in the British psyche. Following the atrocious summer riots in London (which were broadcast across the world), how can FIFA take away a reason to be proud of our country? I would not be offended if the Germans publicly remembered their war dead. Why should they not be given a human right to do so? Why are our rights continually taken away from us?

In banning the poppy, FIFA has made it a political symbol. Football used to be called The Beautiful Game, it’s such a shame that FIFA has now destroyed that. In World War One when the guns stopped, the ‘beautiful game’ bought England and Germany together side by side. FIFA has now weakened the bridge that was built that day. The only way to strengthen it is to release the ban. To give us our freedom back… Lest we forget.