The (long overdue) Weekly

 In 2017 Blog Archive

The Weekly – 7th March 2017

“I do not wish to be good. I wish to be hell on wheels, or dead.” – Martha Gellhorn

Time has been on fast-forward. March is traditionally my favourite month in New Zealand, and – so far – this March is no different, but the days are speeding past on hyper-fast-forward, and I can’t remember the last time I drew a full, deep breath.

Perhaps now…. nope, too much to do, and I’ve delayed this Weekly long enough. It’s almost a Monthly at this point.

I’ve been to Melbourne. I’ve been lucky enough to have seen New Zealand from the vantage point of three different helicopters. (New Zealand is made to be seen from the air.) I’ve made new friends and reunited with old friends. I’ve picked up my wedding dress, and a cold. Chris and I celebrated our pre-anniversary (one year until our wedding), and I rang in my 13th year of living in New Zealand.

We’ve even enjoyed a few days of late summer weather.

There hasn’t been much of a writing rhythm, but I feel opportunities hiding in the shadows, which is always exhilarating. New stories are getting ready to present themselves. They’re not ready yet. It is a delicate balancing act, trying to coax them out of¬†hiding without scaring them back into oblivion.

The next four months are going to be some of the busiest months of my life, but hopefully, hopefully, they will act as a rock in a river, changing my course slightly, propelling me forward.

And in the meantime, I still have 23 more days of March. Why is March my favourite month? Because the weather is at its most settled, with clear sunny days, plenty of colour, and crisp nights. Good things seem to happen to me in March, and so it’s full of good memories. The year is starting to settle in, but there’s still plenty more of it to come.

I remember arriving in Wellington 13 years ago, smelling New Zealand’s particular green smell, being surrounded by ocean. I didn’t know a soul. I didn’t know where to buy sponges, or groceries. I didn’t know what the acronyms GST or ACC stood for. I had small, round holes in my mail from where the snails were eating through the letters and bills in my post box. I felt lonely, hopeful, excited, speeding along on a baffled adrenaline rush.

Very similar to now, actually.

Next week – I promise.