Eyes drooping.
Brain wandering.
Trying to write, but…..
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Author: Miriam Drori
Author, editor, attempter of this thing called life. Social anxiety warrior. Re-Connections, a collection of short stories, published with Ocelot Press, 15/10/2025.
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Small Stone 3/1/11
Clothes hanging on clothes horse on balcony.
Trousers, shirts, socks, pants, sheets.
Greens, blues, whites, blacks, reds.
Gently swaying as they dry.
What if it was raining? Would they get wet?
No, silly. If it was raining, they wouldn’t be there.
But what if…
My head is still reeling. I finished reading Nicola Morgan’s Wasted this morning. Usually, I don’t have a chance to stay in bed and read in the morning, but today, by chance (or luck), I had the opportunity and decided to take it. I didn’t toss a coin to decide; I just did what I wanted because I could.
Much has been said about chance, luck and predicting the future with reference to this brilliant story. I don’t think so much has been said about guilt, but this is also an important factor. Jack has found a method of coping with his feeling of guilt over an event that occurred when he was very young. His method of leaving decisions to chance, of tossing a coin, is unhealthy and only hides the guilt which shouldn’t be there at all. He couldn’t have known what his actions would cause.
We’ve probably all felt guilty at some time. I know I have. I’ve even felt guilty about decisions that have caused harm only to me. But now I realise that I couldn’t possibly have known what my decisions would cause.
Wasted is a YA book, which perhaps explains why I was able to read it so quickly. But I suspect I’ll be thinking about it for a long time, and that’s a sign of a good book.
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Small Stone 2/1/11
| Dawn: | Black clouds frame a black tree growing out of the building. |
| Day: | The tree is green. The tree is behind the building. The clouds have gone. They probably weren’t black, anyway. |
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Small Stone 1/1/11
New bed
New blanket
New sheet
New curtains
New flowers
New TV
New day
New year
New me
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New year, new theme, new me?
A new year is dawning. Time to make changes.
I think I’ll be tweaking the appearance of my blog some more. I think it could be better, but at least it’s different.
What else is going to change? I was pleased to see I didn’t blog about new year resolutions last year, so I don’t have to blog about non-fulfilment of them. Next year, I won’t be so lucky because I’m going to list my resolutions here. What will I do if I forget to carry them out? Well… I could always delete this post later. Shh – don’t tell anyone.
This blog (as is now confirmed at the top of this page) is about writing and social anxiety, so my resolutions are, too.
My writing resolutions
- Read at least one book every week.
- Write something (chapter, ½ chapter, blog post, small stone) before accessing social media on every working day.
- Work on WIP every working day until it’s finished.
My SA resolutions
- Talk (offline) to someone outside the family every day.
- Write an automatic thought log once per week.
Well, I’ve written them. I hope I can keep them up for a year.
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You Can’t See Me
This post was inspired by Catherine Hughes. It took great courage for her to post about all the things that people don’t see.
Like Catherine, but for very different reasons, I feel invisible. People look at me and see a normal person. They don’t realise what’s going on inside me. They may not notice anything at all in that first conversation. They certainly can’t hear what the voice in my head keeps repeating while the conversation is going on and after it: “It won’t be long before she realises that you’re not worth talking to, before she jumps to incorrect conclusions and moves on to lusher pastures.”
What are those conclusions? Mostly that I don’t want to talk. That I’m happy to remain on the side lines rather than joining in. That I’m shy.
Nothing could be further from the truth. I love to talk, even though it’s hard. I love to be the centre of attention. And I’m not shy. No matter how “obvious” that seems to everyone, I’m not, believe me.
Erika, according to a recent Facebook status, is a “lonely, handicapped prisoner”. That’s because she broke her ankle and has been forced to stay at home for six weeks. I commented, “Then you know how I feel all the time,” even though I hadn’t broken anything. Why?
I feel lonely because I like company. I’ve always liked company. Yet mostly, I push that company away because I’m sure it doesn’t really want me.
I feel handicapped because I struggle to do something that most people take for granted. The words come out wrong or not at all. My thoughts can’t escape my head.
I feel like a prisoner locked inside invisible walls that I built in no time and have been trying to knock down for ever.
My main worry, when I’m with other people, is that they’ll think I’m weird. So I do anything to avoid that, including keeping quiet rather than saying something they might be surprised at. But keeping quiet is also weird behaviour, so I’m under constant pressure to talk and that makes my mind go blank and then they think I’m stupid – or I think they do.
I know I’m not capable of explaining this in a conversation. Even when I write it, I worry that people won’t understand, that they’ll think I should be able to snap out of it. Sometimes, even I wonder why I don’t manage to do that, and I live with it.
Catherine put it so well, here: “I hide in plain sight. You can see me, but you cannot see within me. You do not know what effort or courage it has taken me to set foot in the outside world; you cannot discern how I feel.”
Many things in my life are good. I’m not trying to deny how lucky I’ve been. I just wish I could solve this problem, which bugs me no end.
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Small Stones
You probably know what goes on in November – how certain crazy (or dedicated) people go into hibernation for a month and come out on the first of December with a whole novel. Now there’s something similar to NaNoWriMo, called NaSmaStoMo. During the month of January, certain crazy people will create a small stone every day, and it seems I’m going to be one of them. The badge on the right says so.
What are these stones?
From the River of Stones website: “A small stone is a polished moment of paying proper attention.” It’s a scene, described after taking care to notice all the details.
I’m not expecting this to be easy, but I’m going to give it a go. Hopefully it’ll teach me to pay more attention to what’s going on around me. If you want to join in, the details are here.
This project is the brainchild of Fiona Robyn and her fiancé, Kaspa.
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My First Reading
Yesterday evening, I attended an event where people read stories… essays… pieces they’d written on the topic of immigration and I read one of my stories.
I think it went well. People said they liked my story and I think they meant it. And I enjoyed talking to people afterwards.
So, I’m feeling good today. Time to do lots of writing, methinks.
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It’s All about Money
Someone in my family qualified as an optician and found a job in a large UK company. On her first day, she was told to recommend glasses to everyone, whether they really needed them or not. She left that job and went into another field entirely.
Last weekend’s edition of the Yediot Aharonot newspaper had an article that highlighted a similar situation in the two big book store chains here. Employees are given a list of books to recommend. It doesn’t matter whether they’ve actually read those books or not, they have to recommend them. And if they succeed in selling enough of them, they are rewarded with bonuses and trips abroad.
I’ve hardly ever asked for a recommendation for a book in a shop. I certainly won’t do that any more.
Is this how it works? Is this what happens all over the world? Can this be stopped?
Miriam Drori, Author 