What about my novel?

A friend of mine here asked an innocent question recently about how my being pregnant has affected my ability to write my novel. It got me thinking... I mean, I'm sure I have been asked this question before, but perhaps it wasn't asked in the same genuine, I-want-a-real-answer kind of way, where 'Well, I'm a lot more distracted and tired than usual' just wasn't going to cut it.

I am still working on my novel, but badly. When I do write, the quality is still the same as before, but there's something different... It took a while for me to put my finger on, and I think it has something to do with the intensity of the imaginary world that surrounds you when you are writing a novel. I have created so many imaginary places, all that have sounds and smells, weather, atmosphere, and a feeling underfoot. My characters are as if they were real people, with annoying habits, endearing qualities and flaws, with brows that wrinkle a certain way during specific emotions, with a particular gait, and with history. I have the story, both the grand tale and the perhaps-waiting-to-be-edited-out smaller scenes, floating about inside my brain, waiting to be caught and pinned onto paper. But mostly, it is a feeling. This novel has a feeling to me, and it is a feeling that I am totally encompassed by.

Or should I say 'was'. I still have reasonable chunks of time where this is the case, but having a baby (I'm assuming particularly your first baby, and perhaps also doing this as a reasonably new expat) is a pretty all-encompassing thing. It seems that the bubbles of my internal worlds have collided. The image of rain pouring through the veins of a cobbled street has to share space with the  cloth-versus-disposable debate, with the hunt for baby singlets (which, incidentally, I had to buy from Bonds in Australia, as my hunts here were fruitless!), the worry about whether that little tumble down the stairs caused real damage, the research into prams and baby-carriers and car-seats and boobies and ways to prevent premature birth and ways to kick-start labour... Add to that the list of health complications that make it all the more difficult for me to get to my writing places, and I'm starting to see the problem.

Of course I realise this isn't going to stop. It's not like this little bean will pop out of me (superman style, says the hubby) and then suddenly I can regain the imaginary world of my novel. I'm not deluded. I had thought that having a definite 'due date' was like giving myself a deadline that I had to work hard towards, but I soon found that I needed to manage my stress better, and what with the doctors consistently telling me to relax, I eased up on myself a bit.

So yes, I am still writing, and still writing what I consider half-decent words. I figure, though, that this is a balancing act I'll have to keep for the next twenty (or thirty!) years now!

Learning to be hypnotised

So I could pretend that my life isn't revolving around this Little Bean inside me at the moment, but... well, I'd be pretending. It is consuming almost my every thought, to the point where, if I manage to think about something else for a reasonably extended period of time (say... 10 minutes), I feel quite self-righteous. This scares me... I am arrogant enough to think that, for the majority of the time, I am a reasonably interesting person, but at the moment I am just in my own little bubble of Beanieness and, to be honest, am happy to stick around there for a while. And really hope that sometime I'll come out of my bubble...

I blame hypnobirthing. Each day I either listen to, read or recite my positive birth affirmations, I practice my breathing techniques (calm breathing for the times between contractions, surge breathing for use during contractions, and birth breathing for the time at the end where everyone is usually yelling awful things like 'push!'), my relaxation techniques, my visualisation techniques and attempt to bring myself into a state of self-hypnosis. I try to read a positive birth story every day or every second day. Each night, Dunc practices working with me through these, using certain scripts and skills to help me become comfortable with this process. So... it's no wonder that I'm feeling a bit of a 'birthing aura' around me at the moment. I choose not to believe that being easily hypnotised (or 'brought into a state of deep relaxation') is the equivalent of being gullible...

The best bit about hypnobirthing is the science behind it. For someone like me, who is split pretty equally between the left and right brains (find me anyone else who started out studying biomedical science and then finished up being an English teacher), it is perfect. It uses my creativity and my ability to imagine, while also grounding it in science and logic. For instance, if you analyse the formation of the three muscle layers of the uterus, it makes complete sense that 'pushing' at the end is counter-productive. The release of adrenalin and the redistribution of blood flow during times of fear really help to explain why the process of deep relaxation is so important. Etc, etc, etc.

I still struggle with certain aspects of it -- not the approach and the philosophy, but the practice. There was a time a while ago where we were following instructions to a tee, but I found myself an anxiety-ridden, crying mess at the end of each session, which was obviously not the intention. We've had to ditch some things and adjust others so that it works for us, and just during the past week have I really felt that we have gotten into the groove of it. Yay!

Very excited to meet this little creature inside of me that has just discovered the true power of its knees in the last 24 hours. :)

Rambles of a Beanie Nature

My last baby-related post focused on the things that I am afraid of. I realised, though, that I was yet to write a blog post regarding how I feel the vast majority of the time... 'And how DO you feel the vast majority of the time, Johanna?' I hear you all ask with baited breath. Finding one word to describe such complex emotions is... difficult.

But, I'm going to go with: EXCITED!

There is a person growing inside of me, which is truly just mind-boggling. And it's not like I've actively done anything to make it grow there (besides the obvious *cough cough*), and yet there it is, having grown from pretty much nothing to the size of a pumpkin, to something – no, someONE - who has the hiccups multiple times throughout the day, who stretches its legs out so that a foot is pushing on one side of my belly and a bum on the other, who flinches when the train squeals loudly as it passes, who reacts to my husbands touch and who had little dance parties at 5am, 10am, 4pm and 11pm, on the dot. I mean really, how mind-boggling is this.

I am 32 weeks preggers right now, though I am emotionally feeling like I am full term. I am ready. And not in that 'ugh, being pregnant is a pain in the bum, get it over with already' kind of way, but in a 'what do you look like? What will you smell like? How heavy will you be in my arms? Do you have hair? I want to touch your little button nose! I want to meet you!' kind of way. Apparently my body is ready too. My pelvis has been open and pretty much ready for the big event from four-and-a-half months (insert a few sentences about pelvic pain and walking problems), and now Beanie is head down and shoving itself as hard against my hoohoo as possible, trying to get it all happening a little too early. Here's a picture of mah belleh today.

Feelings regarding birth:

The thing that really shocks me is how excited I am about the actual birth. I wonder if perhaps it is all the hypnobirthing practice I have been doing, but I am just feeling so positive about it (the vast majority of the time). The scariest thing about it is the unknown, and yet I feel as though I have been preparing myself to deal with that for a while now. And having Duncan there to deal with all the bits besides the physical aspect of it gives me a lot of calm. The main thing that I have realised is that although, of course, I want to have a perfect birth where everything goes calmly, naturally and according to plan, if things go awry, I know that Beanie and I will be okay. So no matter what happens, it will probably be the most amazing experience of my life. And at the end of it all, we get to meet our little Bean!

The house isn't quite ready, though. I mean, if Beanie popped out today, we'd be set, but it's just not at that point where I'm happy – we still have boxes around the place, we still need to fix the changing table, we still need to buy a bunch of little things (though the big purchases are finally out of the way) and I'm still waiting for my elusive sewing machine pedal to reveal itself somewhere in the shambles of The Spare Bedroom.

A few difficulties to overcome:

There have been quite a few personal difficulties I've had to attempt to overcome that go hand in hand with having a bubba in a country where I don't (comfortably, or with much proficiency) speak the language. I'm really glad that I have pushed myself to learn the amount of German that I currently know, so that hopefully I'm not feeling too helpless or lost. It also comes in handy in situations like this morning, where a lovely old lady sat next to me on the train and started speaking to me about my belly and the weather (two topics I am comfortable with! If only she also started speaking about food... then I'd be in top form!).

Another big personal issue I have had to confront is that of my body image, which is just so nauseatingly predictable. I've never been little, and being a six-foot-tall not-little person often makes me feel... well... I don't have to say it. Standing in one of the busiest squares in Zurich, waiting for a tram, and realising that I am a solid head and shoulders taller than everyone around me makes me feel very conspicuous. Which, of course, I am. Now throw an enormous belly and an every expanding bum into the mix, and it takes a bit of effort for me to try to feel comfortable. I wish it wasn't an issue at all, but perhaps being this height at 14 years of age, surrounded by boys who barely reached my belly button, affected me more than I realise. And perhaps being reasonably sleep deprived doesn't help this situation... check out the number of extra pillows I had to order when we were on our babymoon last week (plus a wedge I created out of towels to prop up my back when sleeping on my side)!

A kinder surprise!

Now for the issue of Beanie being a boy or a girl. I was so completely sure it was a boy up until about 6 months. I'm not sure why, I just knew. And then one day I woke up and instead of thinking about the boy in my belly, I suddenly was hit with this feeling that I now had absolutely no idea. None. No feeling one way or the other. My 'boy' feeling had gone. And from then on, I began having dreams about Beanie being a girl, and gradually I've turned to feel as though it's a little girl in there. Dunc thinks it is a boy still, and we often speak with each other along the lines of 'How's he doing in there?', 'Oh, she's doing great!'. And so we've made a bet. If it's a boy, then Dunc gets to choose the first take-away pizza; if it's a girl, then I get to choose (and by god, it will have lots of gorgonzola!). Meanwhile, every single silly gender-prediction test we have done says it is a boy, so... we'll see. :)

Alright, time to end this ramble and put on my 'Affirmations for an Easy and Comfortable Birth' CD. I'll leave you with a picture of the very excited parents-to-be on our little mountain get-away last week.

I'm so postmodern

I'm currently reading Jeffrey Eugenides's Middlesex and am having some major breakthroughs with my writing. Not with the actual words on paper business of writing, but of the sitting and thinking hard aspect -- the 'composting' (incidentally, I think that the amount of composting time required to write a novel that is as complex and interwoven as mine was vastly underestimated...).

Oh! Disclaimer! Please don't think I am comparing my writing to that of Jeffrey Eugenides, Pulitzer Prize winner and one of America's greatest writers of contemporary literary fiction... okay, so that is a lie. I am comparing, albeit a little shamefully. Though (she says, stamping her foot), there can be nothing wrong with aiming high and using successful, admirable writing as a model for my own. Now if only he could create a couple of worksheets for me, I'd be set.

Here in Zurich, I am a member of two writing groups, each with three other wonderful writers. One group meets each month religiously, the other meets a little more sporadically, though usually every two or three months. The week before our meets, we email each other our submission, usually of around ten pages, and then we edit, respond, critique and praise each other's work in preparation for our meeting. When we meet, the three readers, often in conflict with each other, discuss problem areas as well as sections that they particularly enjoyed. The writer of the piece isn't 'allowed' to speak (theoretically) until after all feedback is given, removing the opportunity to explain yourself and justify any potential problems.

Every time I submit my writing, I am riddled with nerves. I assume people won't like it, will find inherent problems with any number of things (continuity of tense, embarrassing spelling or grammatical errors, flaws in characterisation, and - the worst - just 'not getting it') and will be secretly scoffing behind my back... how can I possibly think I have the ability to complete this mammoth task? And yet, every time, I am astonished that people seem to genuinely enjoy my writing. Yes, there are problems (such as 'I really sympathised with this character up until now, but what they just said just doesn't fit with my idea of who they are', or 'this sentence starts in past tense, moves into present, then ends back in past again'), but on the whole, I always leave our sessions feeling as though I actually can do this.

Back to Eugenides.

Some feedback that I continually receive is in reference to my use of point-of-view. I have chosen a very complex structure for my novel, and in order to tie all the flailing bits together, I have employed a grumpy old man to tell the story (I hate having to summarise complex areas of my narrative... just know that it is a whole lot more complicated than that). He makes appearances at the beginning and the end, but also continuously pops in throughout in order to provide comment to his own ability to tell the story, in the style of a metanarrative. Now, the critique that I often receive from my fellow writers goes along the lines of 'How would he know that? How could he know that X feels this way, or that Y is hiding there, or that Z wants this more than anything in the world?'. And so, despite my refutations that he is telling a story and therefore needs to invent the emotions and justify the actions of his fellow characters, I often find myself censoring my old man.

Eugenides doesn't. He has his narrator providing us with an intimate portrayal of his grandparents' first sexual encounter, of the complexities of his parents' relationship, of the events that occurred in the house down the street from his Grandmother... and I never found myself wondering 'how would he know this?'.

I have been reading a lot of interviews with Jeffrey Eugenides to try to uncover some of the challenges he found in writing this novel (which took nine years... *sigh*), and I found this segment, taken from www.3ammagazine.com, particularly interesting and relevant:

Eugenides: I've blended postmodern and traditional I think. My narrator in Middlesex is not entirely reliable; he's inventing the past as much as he is telling it. "You can't really know much about what you really know" is the bottom line, which is an old postmodern strategy. There's a lot of self conscious narration in the book, which is an issue in a lot of postmodern literature as well. Along with that, there are very old-fashioned narrative techniques in it, of telling about wars and the burning of Smyrna. But postmodernism is always recuperating old styles of narration. The one thing that I definitely believe is that strict postmodernists don't all believe that I believe in this power of story-telling. I think that people are still interested in this old-fashioned goals or traits of novels. Something that seizes you, that grabs your attention and gives you a ride through a book. So, I don't want to constantly frustrate the reader by taking him down on dead ends, at the dead end of literature or something -- that doesn't interest me. I want, in a way, a Classical shape to my books and a pleasing and elegant form to them, which is old-fashioned. But within that, I still have a lot of postmodern play without the continuing sense of relativism that… I got so tired of.

So that's it -- I've decided that I'm postmodern. And, apparently, a bit of a fan of writing magical realism. And I'm totally cool with that.

From now on, I'm not going to sensor my storyteller. He is going to be as verbose, arrogant and cumbersome as he likes, popping in and out of my story where he decides is right (yes, I know claims such as these, where the character has control and not the writer, are a little wanky... but they are true!), and screwing with everyone's idea of what is the 'correct' way to write a certain point of view. Iida, Stacy, Kristen, Jill, Libby, Daryl - you are all just going to have to deal with it.

Excitement!

After my last somewhat negative post, I thought I had better fill you all in on my current state of being - which is not at all like it was one month ago. I am EXCITED! I'm not sure if it's just the hypnobirthing techniques I've been practicing, but something in me has changed. I am feeling really in control of my pregnancy and imminent birth (okay, so not really in control - I mean, I am an Australian woman giving birth in a foreign country where I don't speak the language comfortably, and where I'm almost as far away from my Mum as I could possibly be), and I am pleasantly surprised by the way that all my research and study seems to be staying in my otherwise mooshy brain. Yes, occasionally I have a little private meltdown when hubby is here to give me a cuddle, usually over the language issue, but on the whole I am really excited. I mean, this little bean is going to be here soon! I'm gonna be a mummy, and Dunc's going to be a daddy. This is just plain awesome.

The thing that surprises me is that I am very excited about the actual birth. I know, right? How many people go around saying that? This is where I'm a little curious as to the effect that the hypnobirthing is having on my brain...

Fears...

I'm pregnant. And I'm in Switzerland. There is a lot that I am scared of (and of course a lot that I'm ridiculously excited about!), a lot of fears I have to face (arachnophobia, thankfully, not being one of them), and I don't know if writing about them will make them better or not.

I think that making a baby is a very scary prospect in the best of circumstances. And while having our first child in Switzerland was a very conscious decision, I have thrown myself in the deep end. This is not to say that I in any way regret this decision - it is definitely the right one for us! But there have been many times when I have thought 'this would be so much easier if I was back in Perth'. From the complex issues, such as which hospitals our insurance will provide cover for (not a simple answer, surprisingly) and how to find and employ an English speaking midwife, to the simple things, like where to buy maternity clothes, discovering the best way to find second-hand things, and knowing the word for 'pelvis'.

I'm scared of lots of things. And I don't want to be. I feel as if I just need to trick myself into not being scared, and then I will magically somehow become unscared. Positive affirmations and all that. To make this worse, I know that if I am anxious and fearful of my imminent labour, then this will make it more difficult and things are more likely to go wrong because I'm tense. So I'm just going to write them down and then maybe I can deal with them more easily.

I'm scared of the possibility of my fibromyalgia playing a significant role in birth. If it will, then okay. I just wish I knew.

I'm scared of wanting my mum here too much.

I'm scared of my husband feeling out of control and like he can't do anything. I want him to know what an important role he plays in the process, and that I wouldn't be able to do this without him.

I'm scared of everyone suddenly speaking German if something vital happens, and me not knowing what is happening.

I'm scared that my family will feel neglected somehow.

I'm scared that the hospital will be all hospitally (real word), and that if I finally make the decision to do a home birth, that I might for some reason wish I was in a hospital.

Funnily enough, I'm not scared that anything will happen to Beanie. I am totally sure that Beanie will be fine.

This is the end of that. Actually, the list isn't too long. And too many of them are me doing my usual business of worrying about everyone else all of the time... Hopefully one day I will look at this and giggle, because I'm on such a high about it all.

Saying all of that, I can't express how excited I am about meeting this baby inside of me. I am getting increasingly nosy about wanting to know if it is a boy or a girl, and some days I am certain it is a boy, others I'm certain it's a girl. Lately I'm leaning towards girl. Dunc is certain it's a boy. We've bet a pizza on it. I WANT TO KNOW! But the only way I'm finding out is when this little pea pops out. And I'm just going to have to wait. Eek!

January Goals achieved?

So, I know this post is a little late, but cest la vie. Welcome to my life. When I shared these 'totally achievable goals' with my friends, half the responses were positive (along the lines of 'great goals, girl, and totally achievable!') and half were... not ('are you trying to run yourself into the ground? Make "do nothing except grow a baby" your goal!'). I fall somewhere in between...

So. Ten goals. Going through it, I think I've acheived 7.5 out of 10 for my entirely achievable goals. Not a total fail. The next list will surely involve a few more points that incorporate the word 'relax'...

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1. Work on my novel every day. Enough said.

Instead, I began my intensive German classes half way through January. And unless I want a novel that is full of simple sentences, horrific spelling mistakes and third-grader-vocabulary, I simply can't write literature and learn German intensively simultaneously. So I did my best, and that's okay. My novel was worked on a lot at the start of the month, and a little at the end, though it was consistently swirling around in there, composting.

2. Go for walks around Horgen. We are still new to this little village, and I haven't explored it enough. I want to discover the little nooks and crannies, the secret little waterfall in the forest I've heard about, find cute little shops here and there.

This simply did not happen. My totally legitimate excuses? 1. I began to suffer from increasingly severe pelvic and back pain that made it very difficult and painful to walk, and I was instructed to keep this to a minimum; 2. It was bloody cold. Like COLD. The kind of cold that perhaps only after a few years of living here I will begin to acclimatise to. I will save this village wandering for when it is a teeny bit warmer (say, over minus ten degrees). We did go for a lovely little frozen wander when me missed the train on Sunday... a blessing in disguise, despite the almost frostbite.

3. Eat healthily. I know that 'healthy eating' is often in the eye of the beholder, but for me, it means eating 2 fruit and 5 veg every day, eating a wholesome breakfast, and not snacking on junk. Hopefully this will also result in me gaining weight in a healthy manner.

I feel like I did pretty good here. I have been making healthy dinners, keeping my veggie intake at its usual high, and having yoghurt and fruit-laden bircher muesli for breakfasts. I am now also in the habit of always bringing a little container of nuts, seeds and dried fruit with me for throughout-the-day grazing, which means that my lunches and dinners are much more reasonably sized, as I am not entirely famished anymore! Okay, what am I saying. I am famished. All the time. Also having things like veggie sticks with tzatziki as snacks... I'm (mostly) being balanced and healthy about it. Still gaining stacks of weight though...

4. Read Hypnobirthing and do a little yoga every second day, depending on how my pelvis holds up.

Yes, I've been reading hypnobirthing, and I have been keeping up my yoga, but only once a week, as my doctor and chiro are saying this isn't the best for me right now. I'm using it for strengthening, rather than flexibility (which I have too much of) and opening (which I have already well and truly achieved)

5. Contact Horgan Seespital and organise to meet with a midwife for a tour of the hospital at some point.

Organised, not completed. But that's what I wanted!

6. Keep track of finances. Pay the medical bills and write up a spreadsheet to keep track of all this. Keep track of how much I'm spending on groceries, and alter it where need be!

Done and done! Big ticks there!

7. Unpack the spare room. This is difficult because we have nowhere to PUT stuff yet, until our things from Australia arrive (probably around the end of Feb), but I can make the first move and get it organised.

This is done, but not by me -- by my amazing husband instead. Physical effort and I are not friends right now.

8. Research baby items and decide what we need to buy, and where and how we will get it. I already know some of this, but not enough. We've talked about a lot of it, but we need to make some concrete decisions.

Feeling a lot more comfortable about this. Second-hand awesome pram is bought. Second-hand gorgeous furniture is bought. Second-hand everything else is in the process of being bought. New things, fun things, are still to come. :)

9. Get properly stuck into my German when my intensive lessons kick in half way through this month. Do my homework, study, write up vocab lists and grammar charts and stick them on the fridge.

Done! Loving my German at the moment (really? Did I actually say that?) and am really movitated. Did pretty well with my end of level test (36 out of 40, screwing up a couple of really difficult grammar questions and just reading one wrong - dagnabbit! And was the only one to get top top marks for my pronunciation - yippee!) and have now begun level 4.

10. Use dinner-time twice a week to speak to my lovely husband in German. He's so much more advanced for me, so I shouldn't ask too many questions and let him babble away too - make it good practice for him AND me. Also, try to get the guts to speak German more with our German friends, and don't be so afraid of ridicule.

Speaking German over dinner twice a week? Ha. No. This isn't happening. We are talking about complicated things at the moment... making big decisions, etc. So that doesn't really lend itself to German practice! We are writing emails and text messages and chatting often in German though (when did 'chatting' become the signifier only for 'webchat', and not for nattering over a cup of tea? Sad...). I am speaking German a LOT more though, with my friends and in public, and am not getting ridiculed at all! I'm sure that is often due to the loveliness of the friends I am attempting to speak with. My confidence is on the rise!

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