Love letters

Why do so many of us love snail mail so much? It's not convenient, it's not immediate, and it's not free. Email can be all of the above. So can IM and even SMS (depending on your plan). So what's so great about the mailbox? A few years ago, we thought the digital age would end snail mail altogether. Like, video killing the radio star all over again. Yet today, the sight of a handwritten letter in the mail makes many people leap for joy. Letter writing projects and cooperatives are springing up all over the world, fuelled by folks who love to stay in touch.

Why?

Is it nostalgia? Do we yearn for the days when things were done slowly, carefully, and by hand?

Or is it the personal touch? Does the sight of pen-on-ink, wonky handwriting and lines through mistakes bring us closer to the writer than their spellcheckers, SMS shorthand and emoticons ever could?

Is it the tactile nature of snail mail? The crunch of autumn leaves underfoot as you walk to the letterbox, the creak as you lift the lid, the texture of that envelope as you hold it in your hand, weighing it without realising you're doing it, judging by thickness and shape what you might find inside.

Or is it as fundamental as novelty? Now that our key mode of written communication is digital, does good, old-fashioned mail simply represent the allure of the unusual?

I don't have the answers. But I can tell you I love receiving mail, AND sending it.

I am not fast. It takes me a while to write to my friends. To think about what I want to say to them and then write it down. To decide what to include with my little letter. To plan how I might make the envelope pretty, something special to receive. I put the 'snail' in snail mail.

These days, I even make snails look speedy. There are many people I want to write to right now, but the carpal tunnel syndrome that has dogged my pregnancy makes it even harder to hold a pen or pencil than it is to type. Soon, my friends, I promise to write to you. Or maybe I will succumb and type my letters for you. But that just wouldn't be the same. Would it?

These photographs are of a wonderful little package I received in the mail last week from my pen pal in Germany, Astrid. She sends the most glorious mail. I love unwrapping the surprises she sends me (so does Ruby the cat). ps. Astrid recently put her creativity to work and opened an Etsy shop. You can find her sweet, handmade items at Flora Likes Soap and if you buy something, tell Astrid I say hello. She is just a lovely person.

On eternal life

I finished work this week, so I celebrated by schlepping around in my tracksuit with no make-up and unwashed hair, reading books with my feet up on the couch, cleaning the house, doing a bunch of yoga stretches, setting up the baby's nook, and packing the baby's and my suitcase for hospital. This was good timing because Baby B also reached full term this week, meaning that even though the due date is still a couple of weeks away, she could choose to arrive at any time and not be premature.

It is also rather nice because I can now use some of the 20 percent use of my hands the physiotherapist tells me carpal tunnel has left me to write blog posts and work on my novel, instead of writing for my clients.

However if I’m honest, I’m still probably pushing things a bit. I’m wearing great big splints on both hands (Mr B says I have “cyborg arms”), and I’ve lost most of the feeling in my right hand as I type this. The pain woke me up again last night despite the splints, the massages, the ice packs and the regular visits to the physio.

Another reason I’m kept awake of late is that Baby B is pressing on a nerve in my pelvis, which creates a sensation not unlike a searing hot frying pan resting on my thigh. There are moments when this sudden burning has brought me to my knees, almost vomiting from the pain.

Yet, I suspect that if this is the sum total of my pregnancy suffering, I have fared very well indeed.

And then there are the other sensations.

Like when, mid numbness or searing pain or both, Baby B rolls over and elbows me in the ribs. Or kicks me hard in the side. Or I feel my entire uterus constrict in those strange ‘practice contractions’ they call Braxton Hicks.

And I think, WOAH, there is an actual HUMAN CHILD growing INSIDE me. And she is ALIVE.

And I am overcome with wonder.

From the start, my body knew how to nurture this child into life. Baby B is big and strong because my body took care of her. It knew what to do although I had no idea.

And now my body is preparing to send my child into the world and straight into my cyborg arms. I cannot wait.

Baby B's kicks are a reminder that I am playing my own part in the miracle of eternal life.

So it is with these lofty thoughts for company that my little neurological ailments come to mean almost nothing at all. “It’s only pain,” I tell myself, which is all it is. Just signals from my brain.

If I were a genius I could probably even turn those off, too. Or change them into pleasure signals, or something.

Escape to the country

It was a last-minute decision to grab a last-chance getaway before Baby B turned our life into glorious, love-filled, sleep-deprived turmoil. So on Wednesday we made the booking and by Saturday morning Mr B and I had turned our faces to the hills for a weekend away in the Yarra Valley. "It's so peaceful!" we kept saying to each other, in a kind of wonder that came from the knowledge that we were less than an hour outside of the city. And I kept saying "It's so green!" in the same awed tones, because I grew up in the country during a 10-year drought. We travelled and bumped down little dirt lanes for no other reason than they looked appealing.

We strolled through rows of grapevines, all asleep for the winter, and watched our breath form clouds in the late afternoon air.

We wandered in and out of tiny galleries and quirky craft stores.

I developed somewhat of a crush on a collection of neon-coloured crayons made in the shape of little Lego men.

We feasted on chocolate coated strawberries, then laughed through dinner with friends.

We slept in.

We took books and newspapers and read in companionable silence over a leisurely breakfast of fresh eggs and steaming coffee.

Neither of us did any work.

The tunnel

Turns out I have carpal tunnel syndrome. It's a kind of repetitive strain injury in the hand and wrist, so people in jobs like mine that require a lot of typing are likely candidates. Add to that, pregnancy has been known to bring it on and, yep, I've had it since the start of my pregnancy. Carpal tunnel syndrome causes tingling and numbness in the wrist, hand and fingers. For me, it has gotten progressively worse and is now so bad that I wake up at night with excruciating pain that radiates from the tips of my fingers up to my elbow. Often I get this through the day, too.

It's so bad now that it is impairing my capacity to use my hands, especially my right hand. Simple things like holding a fork or toothbrush, opening a door, signing my name, using a phone, carrying a bag, navigating the Internet on my laptop, have all become difficult and sometimes impossible. Typing this post is also causing extreme pain, and I'm having to fix a lot more typos than usual as my fingers spasm on the keyboard.

So I'm going to take a little break from blogging. I'll still pop in and share things on this blog whenever I have a good day, and I'll keep reading your blog posts whenever my hands will let me use the mouse.

Baby B is due in four weeks and hopefully the condition will go away after that. If not, I'll have to undergo an operation as my job is to write and that's going to require the use of my hands. So either way, I'll be back. See you soon!

Yours truly, Naomi xo

(photo from here)

Snail mail: in my mailbox (and yours)

Lately I've been drawing pictures on the mail I'm sending. The ladies at my local post office seem to like it. Hopefully my friends will, too.I was inspired to draw pictures on parcels by this wonderful book, posted to ME recently by my dear friend Ruby Blessing. I love Edward Gorey's little graphic stories, and already have two of them at home. How did she know? I can't wait to delve into the wonderful letters inside this book! And look what else arrived in my mailbox last week, all the way from my lovely postal pal Hermine, in Belgium. She sends the sweetest, most creative little parcels, I just love getting them. Then yesterday afternoon I answered the door to the postman and JUST LOOK what arrived, sent from my dear friends Michelle and Kevin in Sydney, who stayed with us just last weekend. I am incredibly spoiled. How about you? What have you found in your mailbox lately? What are you sending to friends?

(ps. As always, if you buy a copy of my novella Airmail, I promise to send you a personal letter in the mail. Just let me know.)

Life lately, in Melbourne

Autumn showers, cool mornings, my breath visible in the air when I walk the dog. Welcoming visitors from far away, exploring the shops and markets together, downing tacos and treats. Reading books under a warm blanket, cuddling cat, dog and man; taking kicks left, right and centre from Baby B. I'm sorry I've been so absent from your blog and mine lately. As you can see, I've been spending my time in all kinds of lovely ways. What's been happening in your life? How are you enjoying the change of seasons?

The magic lantern

Roll up, roll up. Great wonders will appear before your very eyes. What phantasm is this? Behold, the conjurings of the magic lantern, seen here in my post on The English Muse this week (hint: they do it with mirrors).And in other news, have you seen these dance blooms yet? Stunning, oui? [vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/30126264 w=525&h=295]

Dynamic Blooms from Tell No One on Vimeo.

Let's have a little talk

I have been listening to Of Monsters and Men's My Head is an Animal album all week. It makes me so happy. And I just love this track, "Little Talks." When I hear it, I feel like somebody has handed me a shining gift and, when I open it, the gift is freedom. Maybe that's what I'm craving. [vimeo http://www.vimeo.com/35965795 w=525&h=295]

WeWereMonkeys : Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks from WeWereMonkeys on Vimeo.

It seems like the closer my beautiful Baby B is to arriving, and the more exhausted my body feels from carrying and nurturing her, the busier I get.

I am swamped with work. Literally swamped, with towers of notes and briefings spilling over my desk and into the lounge room and onto the sweet little rocking chair that Mr B bought for me to nurse baby, not laptop.

We've had weeks upon weeks of house guests and dinner guests and travel plans and outings and shopping trips to try to prepare for baby's birth. So much housework! How does our home get so messy and so dirty so quickly?

I'm trying to write my next book, get started on an exciting new creative, collaborative project that will launch next year, and keep up with my blog.

This is all fun and I feel deeply loved by my friends and family, but I am also in somewhat of a spin. I'm prone to sudden bouts of dizziness and moments of "I must lie down, NOW," which do not work well with deadlines.

And I am not sleeping. What with the kicks (not that I'm complaining about those, oh how I love those kicks), the cramps (I WILL complain about the cramps), the carpal tunnel syndrome I've had in my hands and wrists since the start of my pregnancy, the back spasms when I roll the wrong way, and the stuffy nose, very little sleep goes on during those long night hours.

I wish I knew how other people did it. I don't see other pregnant women looking as done-in as I feel. They have that glow everyone talks about.

And of course I'm nervous. I know that this is just the beginning of sleepless nights and incessant demands on my time. That I am about to enter a whole new realm of indentured service to a tiny, beloved dictator. We don't have the financial luxury of me being able to be the stay-at-home mum I long to be, so I will need to juggle the dictator with deadlines, too.

But when all is said and done, I'm doing ok. I will figure it all out, somehow. From what I hear I've had a very easy road in this pregnancy, and I truly am grateful. Just tired.

Oh, and another thing that is cheering me this week, alongside "Little Talks," is my memory of France last year: of being there with my friends, of exploring Paris and basking in the heat of the south, and of little Baby B beginning to grow inside me, although I didn't know about that yet.

So in my guest post on English Muse today, I'm bringing you a visual treat from two great cities: Paris and New York. Come travel with me, won't you?

Favourite things - snap happy

The weekend is almost here! Time to pull out the camera and get creative... 1. Wearable photos Loving this DIY tutorial from Photojojo to print your memories onto fabric.

2. Instagram secrets Those cheeky Instagrammers! I've been wondering how on earth they manage such amazing photographs, even with the help of the Instagram filters. Then I read this how-to and discovered what goes on behind the scenes.

3. The still life stylist Still Life stylist Sonia Rentsch is guest blogging for the Design Files. I love her simple, quirky aesthetic. She says, "A fruit tree, so simple and evocative, is beautiful in and of itself – but how do I make it more? In a world saturated with imagery, how do I ask people to look again?"

4. Women of WWII Take a look at this post and collection of archive photos from WWII on Hila Shachar's blog, le project d'amour. So moving, and thought-provoking.

5. Closeup worthy pink hair Temporary, damage-free, wash-out-able pink hair? I am so going to do this, thanks to this tutorial from The Beauty Department.

Why I write

"Writing is not a job or activity. Nor do I sit at a desk waiting for inspiration to strike. Writing is like a different kind of existence. In my life, for some of the time, I am in an alternative world, which I enter through day-dreaming or imagination. That world seems as real to me as the more tangible one of relationships and work, cars and taxes. I don't know that they're much different to each other. "However, I write about these alternative worlds because it helps to preserve them. I'm their historian, their geographer, their sociologist, their storyteller. I write them into being. I have to say I don't care whether this is a good thing to do or not; this is just the way I am and the way I live my life."

These are the words of Australian author John Marsden, and today on the English Muse, I'm exploring the mental and emotional gymnastics that Marsden put me through when I read my way through his Tomorrow, When the War Began series these past weeks. My post is here if you're interested.

When I first read this quote, I thought "Oh yeah, me too." But that's not strictly true. Those alternative worlds? Escaping into them is why I read, not necessarily why I write. And that got me thinking: why do I write?

It surprised me that I had to think so hard to find my answer. After all, I've been writing since I was six or seven years old. Why did I write then? Why do I still write now?

Being a writer is like being an explorer. Charting new territories. Forging new frontiers. Rewriting the maps. Here be dragons! I undertake this adventure in the company of people I love, the characters who populate my stories. They are my co-explorers, often drawing me into places I'd never have thought to go. It is exciting, invigorating, and utterly addictive.

So tell me: why do you write?