We’re over halfway through week nine of lockdown. At the beginning of all this, my search history reflected what was going on in my life, and presumably, lots of other people’s too. “Where can I buy strong bread flour?” (Nowhere, was the answer, but my husband discovered that 00 pizza flour made an acceptable substitute). “Where can I buy yeast?” (Again, nowhere, so I begged and borrowed some from friends and worked my way through it, occasionally making soda bread in desperation until it started appearing in the shops again). “What are the symptoms of Covid-19?” (With three children, a husband and two elderly and extremely vulnerable parents, that was a worry. So far, so good, thank God.)
As time went on and nearly all my paid work dried up, the other half of my brain, the creative half which is the bit that started this blog in the first place, suddenly realised that it was time to take some of the stuff that had been knocking about in the lobe marked, “big words and made up stories” and actually write some of it down. My search history reflects this. By week two of lockdown, a random sample of my google searches were
“Common 18th Century Hertfordshire Surnames,”
“Medicinal Herbs in the 18th Century”
“Where is Meryton Supposed to be in Pride and Prejudice?”
My reading pile doubled in size and started taking on a rather Austen-esque flavour. Longbourn by Jo Baker, Sense and Sensibility by Joanna Trollope, Northanger Abbey by Val McDermid and Emma by Alexander McCall Smith, plus surely the greatest novel ever written, Pride and Prejudice, were my preferred bedtime reading. I found myself writing a book of short stories, based on minor characters in Pride and Prejudice. It’s nearly done. I’ll keep you posted on progress.
Hard on the heels of this new creation, my search history changed yet again. It was becoming clear that grey roots, shaggy hair and wispy layers were going to be a part of our lives for quite some time to come. “How do I cut my own fringe?” was my next question. Back came the answer, “By letting your eleven-year old daughter loose with the kitchen scissors.”
I wouldn’t want you to think that I’ve spent my entire lockdown gazing at my hair and googling herbal remedies. There was a flurry of Antarctica-based research a couple of weeks ago due to my daughter’s Year 6 topic. I am now an expert on Shackleton and all his expeditions.
With social distancing really beginning to bite, my search history reflected new ways to communicate. “How do I set up a Zoom account?” How does Microsoft Teams work?” and “How do I read a book on Audible?” were questions I was asking myself. Never the greatest of technical whizzes, I have got to grips with some new platforms even if I haven’t worked out how to change my background.
With bread proving happily under a tea towel, my blackcurrant gin mellowing nicely in bottles under the stairs and my fringe all sorted, my next project took shape. I write for the ACW’s blog More Than Writers once a month. In April, I wrote a jokey piece about an imaginary lifestyle blogger and writer called Isabella M Smugge (I Am Smug – get it?) which caused much mirth. The next month, I wrote a much more serious piece but used Ms Smugge again for comic effect. The comments were complimentary and several people said they’d like to see a book about her. Guess what?
My google searches are now along the lines of, “Common Suffolk Surnames”, “Posh Girls’ Names” and “Top Five British Bloggers.” I’ve written a book proposal, a story arc and four and a half chapters. As you’ll see from my blog heading, my earliest dream was to be a writer. I crushed that dream and put it away somewhere safe, but now it’s back. My favourite writers are those who create whole new worlds, and Isabella’s world is taking shape.
Let’s not run before we can walk, but in a few months’ time, I really hope that my google search history will say things like, “What should I wear on the red carpet?” “What is the best answer to where do you get your ideas?” and “How do I organise a book launch?”
Dear readers, you saw it here first. It’s been nine (and very nearly a half) weeks and Ruth the blogger is morphing into Ruth the novelist.
Feels pretty good.