Comics, Womanthology, I heart you

•March 26, 2012 • Leave a Comment

WomanthologyToday my copy of Womanthology arrived in the post. It was excellent timing as I have been having a few days of feeling rather unworthy of the fields I am most passionate about. I’ve recently begun writing two new comic projects, but am feeling slightly bewildered due to the break I’ve had in writing (due to the soul sucking job, which I am thankfully now free of).

Getting my hands on Womanthology has reminded me of how very much I love writing comics and how much joy my first (and second) comic script brought to my life. The medium of comics has brought such elation and delight and inspiration to my life as I have read them, gone to Comicons in San Diego and Toronto, and looked at the wonderful artwork of comic illustrators online. There’s something incredibly beautiful, evocative, tangible, and creative about comics that isn’t like any film, TV show or radio play. I love comics.

So as I sit here with the spring sunshine on my shoulders and Womanthology beside me, I am inspired: to dream without boundaries, to hope with abandon, and to write boldly, without comparing myself to others.Writing for comics is a gift, a collaborative process that unites and brings freedom to voices. I’d like to declare to the world that I hope one day soon to contribute my own stories to the wonderful community of Womanthology, just like my friend Jody Houser has.

Dear Womanthology, Renae De Liz, et al… please let me join your courageous ranks and write with you, for you, and create stories that move others as your stories and art have moved me.

Here endeth today’s post. 🙂


Taking Chances, Changing Circumstances

•March 19, 2012 • 1 Comment

Once again too much time has gone by since I last wrote, and boy have things changed.

My husband and I have moved out of our flat in Chichester and back into the cottage in Flansham, where we are sharing with his parents. This move came out of a decision to reduce our outgoings so we can save funds for our much desired move to Canada, specifically Vancouver, the city of my birth.

Moving here seemed logical and good, but being here is proving a gift already. Having the financial pressure lifted off us so that we can live in this transitional place while we prepare to take a big leap and move across continents is freeing us up to focus on the hope and plans we desire to see come to fruition.

But even more than that, I have now an opportunity to do what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m venturing out into the world of being self employed. So far it is proving to be a wide and strange and exciting world. One in which I can be fully myself and structure my life how I want to. It is incredibly freeing this life, though I will be more pleased when the cash starts coming in! 🙂

It has been months since I have felt this free, optimistic and alive.

I am incredibly thankful and full of excitement for the future

When music is serendipitous

•March 2, 2012 • Leave a Comment

I’ve loved Greg Laswell and Sara Bareilles for a while now but put them together and WOW you have something incredible. Also, it’s not lost on me how strangely appropriate this song is…

A strange victory

•March 2, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Yesterday I returned to the office… for 30 whole minutes before being let go due to my illness, despite the fact that I am now well. It’s strange, being fired is never fun. It hurts and self doubts creep in. I know I wasn’t let go due to my performance or ability to write well. Still, there is hurt there. A feeling of betrayal.

And yet? The job was sucking the life out of me. It was taking more from me than it gave me. I was a shadow of myself. And so it is a strange sort of victory. No longer will I have to get up at 6:30am and not get back home until 7pm. No longer will I have to use my talents for work that undermines it.

It is a chance for a change, a new beginning.

Perhaps the universe is more on my side than I thought. I will miss the pay, but little else. So here’s a toast to new beginnings, strange victories, and starting over.

Depression, and not being owned by our circumstances

•February 29, 2012 • 2 Comments

Depression vs hope IllustratedI really meant to write more over the last month.

I couldn’t find the words.

Burnout, depression, stress, these are terrible things. Learning to give voice to them, a voice that is not just perpetuating their existence, it’s hard.

After 3 weeks away from work I am beginning to feel that I am returning to myself. I’m headed back to the office tomorrow and the nerves are nothing compared to the determination to not let my day job steal the meaning and worth of my life again. I am not defined by what I do for money.

At least, I don’t have to be – not when what I do right now isn’t the dream, when it is a job that taps into my talents while not allowing me to fully live in them. I’ve thought quite a bit while on this time of rest. I’ve spent many days not thinking at all and simply devouring The Hunger Games, playing Super Mario, watching films and sleeping… but other days I have thought. I’ve thought about how work can own us.

My work has been destroying my spirit, slowly but surely because I put too much stock in it. I let it own me. But your day job can just be that. I know now that I mustn’t let it have such a strong hold over me that it stops me from dreaming. I long for more time to write the kinds of things I enjoy writing, to tell stories that fulfill me and give me life. But simply dwelling on the negatives of the current situation doesn’t help.

I need to break free of expectations I put on this job, on myself right now and just embrace what is. This is a job, which I am fairly good at most of the time, where I am valued even though often I don’t feel it, and it is a job that provides a means to an end. Money. All of this is good.

Depression is not a part of me. It is separate from me, something that has happened because of circumstances, because of thoughts that have descended and owned me and held me captive. It is also in part due to a lack of serotonin. But it still does not own me. I am not my depression or even my stress. I am bigger than that. I can take my life back. I can live again as Kimberley, not some oppressed shadow version of her.

It’s been 3 weeks. I return to work tomorrow.

I’ll try to keep you posted on what happens next.


•January 31, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Today I worked from home, which was good because lack of proper sleep and a general feeling of being under a grey cloudy sky threatening to sleet all over me meant the extra hour spent in bed grasping for rest was much needed. Sitting at my own kitchen table with a view of the Chichester sky, made it even better. I may not feel particularly at home here right now, but this is a gorgeous city.

This evening, on the way to somewhere else, I ran briefly to visit a friend and offer a hug. I ended up talking about me… which is something I haven’t done for a while, though I felt sad to not have asked more about her – or at least to not have had the time to properly share our “where we’re at” monologues. It was one sided, because she is gracious and she asked and made me feel safe to disclose my discombobulated brain and heart and thoughts. That is a good friend!

In the midst of this day, the feeling unwell and the work and everything, seeing her reminded me that the sorrow I feel sometimes lately is not everything that there is. There is more.

I have been dreaming of babies. My own, other people’s, praying for life and life abundant. All sorts of ages but generally under 5. Babies. I think this is two fold: I’ve been dreaming in the daytime… of creating… stories, people, all of it. I want to be a Mum, as soon as possible and I want to tell stories and write stories for my children – little ones written in small parts spread out over lunches and before bed… I want to create a house that is a living story full of fables and tales and adventures big and small.

I think the process of this current transition to a life where there is time for stories and scripts and imagining again, anew, is going to be an interesting one. I can’t imagine a better way to be.

Time to take control

•January 28, 2012 • 2 Comments

“It’s taken me a long time to get back here…”

I recently heard some great news. A friend of mine is one step closer to living his dream. A dream, which is very similar to my own. The difference for me this time was that I did not feel the old sting of jealousy or hear a voice inside my head telling me that “of course someone else got their dream” and surely I never would because I’m “not good enough.”

This time instead I felt a deep ache awaken inside me. An ache which said… I can do that too! I am just as capable as he is of making the dream come true. I have talent, and the ability to create good stories. I believe I was put on this earth to write stories. Scripted stories in particular – for the screen (both big and small and comic).

The problem is I am not writing.

Or when I do it is only in small spurts of desperate ink. I haven’t spent a whole day just creating in far too long. I have been lost in this notion of being “normal.” Of being responsible and doing the right thing – as the world would dictate. As my parents would dictate and think good… making money just for money’s sake… not making art. Living a life lead by fear instead of joy, hope, positive expectation and wonder.

THIS has been destroying me.

I don’t want to wake up when I am 40 or 50 and realise I never really tried hard enough. I never made myself able to have the time to write and really have a go at seeing my dreams come true and really sat down and worked to allow for me to enter into the life I so desire.

Things must change. As soon as possible or I risk shrivelling into inconsequential living and one which exists solely to make money. I need to tell stories. I have a voice that needs to be heard.

I am fighting with all my might to destroy the dragons that are holding me back so I can arise victorious and start over as myself, and as the storyteller and human I was born to be. Without all this gunk I’ve been wading through for years.