This book may well kill me

This evening I have been working on one of the chapters of my non-fiction book and getting lost in all the copious material that is now available around me.

I started with current news and worked backwards through the familiar tale of the 'blood diamond'.

I'm not a novice to all of this. I've met and spoken to former child soldiers, read articles, watched the Hollywood film, looked at photographs and even found out that Kanye-I - myself - than- sense-West wrote a song about his internal conflict with them.

And yet, reading one paragraph in a report about how the RUF (Revolutionary United Front) took to amputating women, children and teens' hands and feet (I should mention adult men were affected too) and continued to do so even when the Sierra Leonean government offered them an olive branch in the 1996 elections- broke me and made me cry like a child.

Suddenly the unbelievable cruelty that people can inflict on others smashed me over the head and reminded me that this isn't a pretty book. The things in it won't always leave you with a yummy just-had-a-great-dessert feeling. Life can be brutal and for so many that brutality has become the norm, their history, their face-whilst for the rest of us, we weep at a distance and wish it were different.

I'm still not entirely show how yet, but that's the bit the has to change. It's not 'them' and 'us', it's not 'we' and 'they'- it's just 'us'. That's what I need to find in the middle of all this mess I'm digging and burrowing through.

Help.

Lit

Today I lit a candle and let its small light lift a prayer from my soul to His.

There's a dream in me that won't die. Regardless of what I do, or what happens or doesn't (as the case may be); the dream persists.

It tugs me to wake when I want to sleep and to think when I crave silence.

It makes my breath short and trapped with a bursting imagination and no magic to make it live.

This dream has been, as long as the sun has shone from the heavenlies.

I don't know if my candle will avail much bar comfort me with its fragile, little light.

Dear God

Please, please, please, pretty please with sugar on top or honey if you'd prefer, can we be financially sound so I can write full time?

Could things finally pan out with my writing so that I could be spending this evening planning future books and not only English language lessons?

We would be eternally indebted to you (as we already are) and I would write and write until the tips of my fingers fell off.

In your name,
Amen.

The silver cord snaps

It seems as I get older I am more inclined to dislike and truly resent death. Of course this may seem a perfectly good waste of one's energy when little is as certain as death, but it doesn't wash my mouth of the bitter bile that it leaves.

A friend of mine, Pauline O' Briain passed away recently and I found out when my phone beeped with a new email breaking the dreadful news. It's hard to describe what you feel when someone you last saw with breath in them, a wide, eye-creasing smile and glittery eyes full of life no longer has one. There are few words that can capture the way your insides have suddenly been left hanging suspended in the air- how everything about you stops as you try and reconcile that earth, and all of us has lost another soul's light.

Even as I write this I feel outraged with death. I feel maddened by its blood thirst and disregard for this most holy of gifts that God has given- so much so, am shaking and crying.

I watched two films this week that probably helped solidify this in me. Remember Me and Everything is illuminated. Both of the closing scenes in these films have gone beyond haunting me and left a sad yearning.

It isn't just the fact that moment of death is still uncharted territory until our silver cord snaps or that we go there alone but it's all those we leave behind. We leave them to reminicise, cry, lose sleep, have recurring dreams, wish and miss and hopefully, heal and carry on.

I've been worried I'm losing my God perspective on all of this. He experienced death, firsthand, on both sides of the fence and he is alive to tell the tale (so to speak). He also spent much of His human life comforting us with what would come next and somewhere in all of the riddles and rhymes, hinted He would be there to meet us.

There are those that argue that this life is it - that one day we'll be merely dust. But even despite my fury with death I refuse to believe it has the final say. Perhaps I am being a silly beatnik, but there is too much in this life of ours, too much for it to simply end in nothing.

And so that is where my hope will be - that the one who wept on his knees for his dead friend, just moments before He raised him, understands this grief that lies in me. Understands those who still remember their dead.

It's time

As I sit back at my desk in London, after spending far too long reading about writers that have made it I am hit with the realisation that it's time.

Naomi has read and proofed my book. She has made suggestions and aired her thoughts. She has encouraged and constructively criticised me.

My husband, Kendall, has spent hours reading over the manuscript, finding willing 11 year-old guinea pigs, stood for ages in Staples, hole-punching and collating the pages to send to Naomi.

Everyone has done their bit. And now it stops with me. I keep thinking of other things to add, to change. I keep thinking I'm not ready yet to submit it-just a little while longer. But then I wonder if it isn't anything but fear keeping me from sending out my first three chapters as you're supposed to and allowing the agents to decide to see the balance of it.

I'm afraid after all this time of crafting it, it still won't be regarded as good enough. I'm afraid of the hole that rejections leave you in.

Yet, perhaps these fears are irrational now. I've been offered and signed a real contract to write a non-fiction book for a publisher in the U.S. (no small feat). Publishers don't invest time and money where they don't think they'll get returns.

And so this week I have to do it. Send out the first three chapters and let God deal with the rest.

This week I have to let my writing speak for itself and remember this isn't the end yet.

Hills, wood trails, yellow back spiders and heat!

Yesterday husband dear and I decided to invigorate ourselves with a walk in the woods. We started on the beaten trail, went to ogle at the Bilharzia looking lake and then started to climb. We climbed and climbed and climbed, cutting through huge webs feeling like quite the explorers. (I especially felt Lord Stanley-esque when I smacked a huge black and yellow spider off Kendall's back with my bare hand!).

We reached the summit of this hill/baby mountain and took in the beautiful view. (This would have been a great place to insert a picture except we forgot to bring a camera). Kendall wanted us to stand on a huge rock that was jutting out the side (he would!) there was a lovely drop to the rocky bottom had we have lost our footing.

We then followed a semi-trail down to the old canyon which looked more to me like a limestone quarry and scaled some rocks. A swan couple squawked and told us to piss off, which we soon did because it was too hot for sense.

South Korea has a natural beauty that I wasn't expecting to find. It has hills and mountains full of fir trees and trundling through them I felt like I was in Narnia, when the White Witch's strength is starting to fade and summer is returning.

Standing in the green with just a bottle of water, a stick to beat away the webs, good walking shoes and if you're clever sunglasses to protect your eyes (I forgot mine) will make for some lovely trekking.

What one of my students wrote to me :)

Hi, Erina!! I'm beth~ Do you remember me? I was your student~ Handong English camp~
I really really miss you~ I'm so sorry that I send this email so late~

Although I use wrong grammer.. I believe that you can understand! I believe.. :(

I want to go handong again~ Before I went to handong, I really hated Handong English camp

but After I went to Handong, I love this camp! hahahahhahahahah

Erina~ Where are you now? Are you in Korea until now?? or Are you in England?

I hope you are in korea~ Especially in Pohang!!

I really miss our classroom, classmate, every ELT, every cc.,....and all of Handong!

But the best person was you:< !!

Although I couldn't speak english well, you always understand me, and told me "good~" "great"!!

you are the best teacher!!!

I really miss you~ I want to see you again goodbye ~

and do you know talisa's email?? If you know please let me know talisa's email !

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOO

from. Beth To.Erina~

I read that this morning and begun my day with sheer happiness :)