I was given an ultimatum by my father last night.

I spent the two weeks prior up in Oregon with them, where we did what we usually do: Drink Wine. Drink Whisky. Drink Whiskey (dad’s actually developed a bit of a taste for good Irish).

And we also talked about family. A lot.

There have been four death in my family so far this year. None of them have been to do with Covid, but happening in the time of Covid has made it harder to deal with, as we can’t travel for memorials or anything like that.

So we’ve talked about family. We’ve reminisced, we’ve gone through boxes of old family trinkets that Mum has impressively carted around between two continents, three time zones, and five houses, and all date back to WWI.

And we’ve talked about the future. About where we might all be in five years, or one year, or next month. We’ve talked about how cute and opinionated and independent Caolila is already at 23 months (and how adorable in her pink DM’s (courtesy of her cool uncle) she looks). We talked about how Alex doesn’t mean to but is good at finding trouble, and also hugs and love. And we talked about how Aiden spends hours and hours making little stop motion lego movies at ten years old.

Ever feel like an underachiever?

Well, to be honest, every time recently I read the news it seems that someone younger than me is taking a moral stand and fighting for their beliefs and the rights of others. They’re being vocal about the things they believe in, they’re being vocal in the fight for the rights of others, people who don’t look like them, or pray like them, or earn like them, or fuck like them, or even vote like them. And it gives me hope. Hope that the world, while it feels like chewing on packing peanuts right now, might work itself out eventually.

But I digress, as I so often do when I’m writing personal shit. Or maybe I do that too when I’m writing shit that might not one day be personal if I ever submit it… bugger. I digressed again.

So. Ultimatum. Last night. I was given an ultimatum. By my father.

If I haven’t submitted any writing by the end of the year, on 1st January they will submit my novel (which I wrote piecemeal and sent to them a chapter at a time), to as many places as they can find.

So that’s it. That’s my ultimatum. And it’s either the best or worst thing the could have done. Best, because it might push me into making a move myself. Worst, because if I don’t, and they follow through, my opinion of that writing is no publisher or agent would come within a thousand miles of me after reading it, and despite all the dragging of heels and waxing and waning of enthusiasm on my part, I do still actually want to be a writer.

I didn’t have the heart to tell dad when he was telling me that there’s a writing competition that closes end of this month that I’ve actually looked into seriously entering. That I’m trying to motivate myself without the ultimatum, without the guilt trips, without anything other than a feeling than maybe right now, the timing is right. Maybe right now, is what I’ve been unconsciously waiting for. Right now, light that left M5 a thousand years ago is getting to your house. Right now, god is killing moms and dogs because he has to. Right now, I got distracted with youtube videos again (bonus points if you can tell me where those references come from)

And speaking of distraction, as I so often do, my current distraction is writing. Writing distracting me from writing, crazy right? But my nephew is interested in stop motion, and making his own movies, so this week’s distraction is to write him a little movie to film. I sent him a questionnaire to fill out to help me maybe write something he wants to film, and as soon as I get it that’s my focus for the week. He’s ten, interested in it, and worth getting distracted for.

Also, I built him a stop motion green screen lego studio, and if he makes it big on youtube I asked him for ten percent. He offered twenty.

I sure as shit hope he’s better at stop motion than negotiating.