Country girl

Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.

Trying to share your love and enjoyment of something, tied in with utter despair at times, is never easy. I farm, and I write. Both probably go together because I’m sure I also talk to myself. Funnily enough, it sometimes answers all my problems without having to hassle my husband.

We’ve farmed together for over 40 years and amazingly still work well together most of the time. Based in one of the more rural parts of Gloucestershire, we enjoy a wonderful country lifestyle, rearing sheep and horses, feeding cows and chasing pigs alongside many other part-time activities.

Writing is my lifeline, and our varied farming life gives me ample material for my books, ranging from our steep climb up the farming ladder as a young couple to looking at the history and wealth sheep and wool brought to this country.

I find writing cathartic; it soothes the soul. When you know your subject inside out, the only setback is siphoning parts that really don’t fit with the gist of the chapter. When so much knowledge and information tumbles through your brain, you need a mental sieve to hold back details that should wait for a later chapter, or even another book. And everything comes so fast. I can almost visualise a huge teapot filling cups to overflowing, then moving on to the next and doing the same. In my mind’s eye, the teapot is pink and floral, while the cups, all colourful, vary in patterns and stripes.

My earliest book was helped by a base of articles I wrote about our early adventures in the farming world. During evenings when the children were asleep, and my husband was still out working, these evolved into a series of published articles. I sometimes read the originals in the old magazines and feel quite proud of what I wrote, but taking something from a journalistic article through to a chapter in a book is more difficult than it at first appears.

Several friends and acquaintances, having read my books, assure me they’re aiming to write a memoir, if not for mainstream distribution, then simply for their families to enjoy. None have done this. One, who is sadly now in his 90s, has told and retold his stories so many times I could write the book for him, and I’m sure that’s what he’d like me to do. Even on my suggestion of simply speaking into a recorder and having someone else type the work, he’s never got any further than talking about it.

Another said that when she sat down to write, she had no idea where to start. My suggestion was that she pick a time in her life, or an occasion, when something memorable happened to her. I’m waiting to see what comes.