My friend has just had her fourth baby. I wouldn’t say I was broody but my twelve year old and I did have a great time in Mamas and Papas cooing at the new-borns lying in their prams, with their serene faces and arms up in the air, as we searched for the perfect gift. No, I’m not broody. Did I mention their white bonnets and their tiny fingernails? No, really, I’m fine.
Needless to say, we went in with the intention of buying some practical babygro’s and came out with an impractical, fabric pram toy sporting numerous educational hangy things including our absolute favourite, the vibrating bee.
Writing the card I remembered the final verse of a poem I’ve been inflicting on new parents ever since I received it with great relief after the birth of my first, the aforementioned twelve year old. I think it’s called Babies Don’t Keep but can’t find an author on the internet. Please excuse me if I should know the poet’s name.
On sight of second babies and beyond, however, I do admit to doctoring this poem to suggest that it’s actually acceptable not to coo, rock, play and chat with your baby sometimes, such as when you have to put on your shoes to protect your feet from the un-hoovered carpet or open the fridge door in private for fear of the forgotten cheese broadcasting your slovenliness.
I’ve decided that the poem can teach writers something too as novels are not vastly dissimilar to babies. As everyone’s who’s ever attempted to write a novel knows (or has been in the unfortunate position of supporting somebody in their attempt) it all starts as your cherished secret, bursts into your life, swamps it, grows and gains its unique personality, giving you immense pleasure whilst driving you to complete distraction. But most of all, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to see that baby flourish.
So, here it is, a little changed again. Many thanks, Anon:
I hope that my book looking back on today
Remembers a writer who had time to write.
Books get published while we are not looking
Books get published while we are not looking
There’ll be time enough for cleaning and cooking.
So hush down cobwebs, dust to go sleep
I’m writing my baby and stories don’t keep.
doesn't make me broody.......!
ReplyDeleteAwwwww, are you sure? Even if you forget the sleep deprivation, loss of marbles and any control over your life?? Hmmmmm, come to think of it ....!
ReplyDeletethe cobwebs weep, there not asleep, fleet them out of the way, the words will fly, they may look a book to buy. god bless lovely post
ReplyDeleteWahey Roy! What have we started?! Thanks for your little ditty and for reading.
ReplyDeleteJax, this is a beautiful blog and as usual I am right there with you in Mamas and Papas. I think you made absolutely the right choice of gift! I tried to think of a little ditty to follow Roy but am afraid my mind went blank. the blog did however make me think how unfair the book publishing world seems to be. "Unknowns" such as yourself have to try so hard to get your voice heard whilst "celebrities" (if that is the correct word) seem to be able to get a publishing contract without any difficulty whatsoever and with far less to say. Doesn't it make you mad, it does me on your behalf!!!
ReplyDeleteAhhhh, thanks Lyn, I don't know what to say really apart from thank you for your unbending support! Yes, it would be lovely to get a publishing deal and yes, it's frustrating that a 'name' can open some doors but most of the celeb's works aren't written by them so they're not getting any of the part I really love: the actual writing. A publishing deal would be the icing on the cake and allow me to think of writing as more of a career but at least I'm enjoying the journey (most of the time!). Thanks again and I'm so glad you enjoy my blog :)
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