Music and Muse

Music is all around us, wherever we are and whatever we’re doing in life. It goes back a long way.

Nobody knows who played the first instrument or sang the first song. Early forms of music likely mimicked the sounds found in nature: animal calls and birdsong, moving water and the wind. Different noises and rhythms would have been used by humans to express fear, sadness or joy. Music likely featured at social gatherings and ceremonies as it does today.

History suggests that when people began to use tools, they may have done so in a rhythm, or a regular pattern. This might have made the first rhythmic sounds that resembled what we know today as music.

Remember Walt Disney’s movie Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs with its loveable song, “Whistle While You Work.” Throughout history rhythm and song has helped motivate and unite workers at task. Music is useful for alleviating the monotony of repetitive labour. Imagine oarsmen on Viking longboats, prisoners in chain gangs and cowboys singing trail songs.

In the Western Isles of Scotland, groups of women would perform a Waulking Song while softening wool so it could be woven and made into clothes and blankets.
The wool would be rhythmically banged off of a table, or ‘waulked’ in time to simple, beat-driven songs sung in the Gaelic language.

Engraving of Scotswomen singing while waulking cloth, c. 1770 (Wikipedia)

Many waulking songs had snatches of older songs embedded in them, but much was improvised on the spur of the moment and there was often laughter and teasing. It was unlucky to repeat a song while still working the same length of cloth, and some lengths took well over an hour to bring to the right condition. In-between the lines of the verses of these work songs are chorus lines with meaningless words. But they are memorable and help the work and raise the spirits. Typically, one woman would sing the verses of the song and the others would join in on the chorus. It was also a social occasion, with the opportunity to catch up on local news and gossip.

When I’m working I like to listen to music. But my work isn’t exactly tiresome or repetitive. Rather, it’s creative and requires inspiration. My perfect work space includes a comfy chair, a large mug of tea and an instrumental soundtrack quietly playing in the background. Lo-fi music is rhythmic, it helps me focus and being without lyrics is not distracting.

I’m an author and artist. My daughter is a talented studying musician. It occurred to us that we could combine our interests in a lo-fi music project of our own. As recording artist, ‘Waulking Song’ my daughter created a moody chilled acoustic track, Passing Times and I created a narrative illustration to accompany it. Her track is available to stream on Youtube on the channel, Lady Lofi.

Have a listen here;

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YF0T3Ny-6cA

It was great fun working on this music project together and I hope we’re able to produce more in the future.

Milestones

Big and small and in-between.

What is a milestone? Is it about reaching a certain age? Or getting to a significant point on your journey, wherever or whatever that may be in life?

Happily, today it’s a bit of both for me.
I’m celebrating a BIG birthday! But since I refuse, at least for now, to give my new age a number.

Behold: Today I am this old.

These heavy, clunky vintage shoe skates are just like the first pair I owned as a youngster. But despite their apparent short comings, they actually skated with some speed. That’s how I roll.

I progressed to a penny skateboard and then a big girl’s bike. Or was it the other way round? In any case, I remember my first solo ride on my Raleigh Amber (minus the stabilisers) like it was yesterday. There was no stopping me.

Digital sketch. copyright Karen McDonald

At eighteen, I got my very own car: a gold metallic, Nissan Sunny Sedan with a cassette player, wind up windows and a choke. Remember chokes? Great fun in cold Scottish winters! Those were the days, footloose and fancy free. Regularly driving way too fast at silly o’clock in the morning with a Stone Roses tape blasting out of the stereo.

I can think of those early years behind me as the opening chapters in a book, the setup of my story. Writers call it the first act. The second act is the meat that makes up most of the story. The fun and games. Full of highs and lows but always moving forward to a resolution.


After years of sensible grown-up living and reliably safe family cars, I graduated to a little Honda 125cc motorbike. Thought I was ‘erchie’, as they say in my neck of the woods. But no danger, it was quickly sold. What was I thinking?


And now, here I am. Yay for me! I’ve reached that age where my letterbox will remind me every day that I’m getting old. It has already spilled a variety of medical screening invitations. Thanks? Along with flyers for care homes. Eh, no thanks!

Macarons too sweet to scoff! Thanks sis.x


I’ve got a lot to be thankful for: A home, a loving husband, three beautiful amazing daughters that make me so proud my heart aches, an adorable dog, family and friends. Already a lifetime of memories to cherish. But I’m always looking forward, excited to see where the journey will take me in the next chapter.

I’ve taken many deliberate little steps in preparation for embarking on a publishing career: Reading lots more children’s books, listening and learning from authors and publishing professionals, attending workshops, trying to write every day until it feels like my job, editing, finding critique partners, submitting to journals and competitions, growing social media platforms, building a website, starting this blog.

I’m now at what writers term, the midpoint in a novel. Where standard plot structure determines that I am half way through my story. At this point, halfway through the second act, something momentous is meant to happen that will propel me to the climax. I need a certain amount of luck. What happens now could decide the ultimate fate of my story, and I like happy endings.
Stars willing, in what will be another big milestone for me, I’ll take my next exciting step. ‘I will secure an agent,’ I say out loud with fingers crossed.

For all your love, support and everything else in-between, thank you Mum and Dad. Thanks to Scottie too, who’s been part of my story since the first act. X

I’m grateful to have had a big family around me to celebrate my birthday. Cheers and good health to all!


I’m feeling very lucky.

Small me.

D.INKY Diary

1–2 minutes

Most days, Mum enjoys a relaxing walk with dinky Danni.

Passers by smile and gush in admiration, ‘Aw, she’s adorable. What a cute, fluffy little sausage dog.

BUT…

Sometimes, Danni sniffs out something gross and has herself a little stinky doggy spa.

And the dirty dawg is not — even — sorry!


D.INKY Diary

Danni Wakes the Monster

Jerry mouse herself, our devilish Danni.

2 a.m. : The darling sausage insists…

‘Need to pee… Need to pee… Still need to pee…’ says Danni, talking to Mum in her grumbling cat voice.

‘Dad is playing, ‘dead to the world’ like he’s after a BAFTA!’ thinks Mum, ‘does he think his loud snuffling is fooling me? I know he’s heard me telling the floofing furbaby to shoosh!’

2.02 a.m. : Mum throws off her warm, hugging duvet. Dresses in joggers off the floor. The crate door squeaks open…

‘Oh, Oh!’ gulps Danni.
Mum’s turned into, DUN DUN DUN – a monster!

Monster makes no eye contact. Monster doesn’t smile. Monster mumbles, grumbles and huffs.

Monster marches downstairs – and waits in the cold, dark, silence of night while Danni pretends to wee, ‘Look Mum, I really needed.’

2.07 a.m. : Back indoors…

Monster dries the floofy sausage belly and toe beans. Then, it makes eye contact and speaks – like Mum, ‘Danni!’

‘Mum’s back – playtime!’ WOOF!

Danni squeezes her slinky bum through the gap in the door and zooms off to the kitchen.

Mum’s attempts to pick up the sassy sausage are unsuccessful. It’s a favourite game of Danni’s, in which she is Jerry mouse and Mum is Tom cat.

Mum knows heading upstairs without the furbaby is futile. Danni sausage will only cry (loudly) at the bottom of the stairs, until someone returns her to her bed next to Mum and Dad. (Have you seen, Lady and the Tramp?)

2.11 a.m. : Mum sulks on the sofa…

‘If I pretend I’m not bothered, pick up my phone and start scrolling,’ thinks Mum.

Danni appears. She throws the side-eye. Then daintily climbs her little ramp and snuggles up at Mum’s side.

2.15 a.m. : Gotcha!…

Danni is quickly bundled upstairs and unceremoniously put to bed in her crate. Door closed!

Some time (much later) a.m. : Dad and Danni are snoring…

While Mum is stifling her inner monster.

All content copyright of Karen McDonald unless otherwise stated.

Celebrating in Failure

An odd concept I grant you – but hear me out…

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Today is a holiday historically celebrated through a number of traditions. You might be preparing food like corned beef and cabbage, getting together with family and friends for a céilí – sure to be a hoot with fiddle music and dancing, or decorating with symbols like shamrocks (a clover with three leaves) and leprechauns.

Traditional Irish music dates back to the ancient days of the Celts. It’s always been an important part of Irish life. The Celts had an oral culture, where religion, legend and history were passed from one generation to the next by way of stories and songs.

After being conquered by the English in the 16th century the Irish were forbidden to speak their own language. So, they turned to music to help them remember important events and hold on to their heritage and history. They still found plenty to celebrate.

Today, I woke to the news that the picture book I’d pinned my hopes on, did not make the coveted short list in Write Mentor’s highly regarded competition. Cue disappointment and self doubt.

But once my morning cup of tea had kicked in I shook myself right. After all, my precious story did make the long list. In a competition that saw 490 picture book entries, my little story was one of 32 picked. ‘That’s pretty good,’ I tell myself.

I celebrated on Twitter today with all the lucky shortlistees’ and fellow, ‘I missed out,’ brigade-ers. I took the positives from it and connected with more publishing folks. That’s a small win.

Then I got right back on the horse. I spent a few short hours doing a new illustration for SCBWI’s Draw This prompt – and got it posted for entry. More positive exposure and it was fun. YAY!

#SCBWIDrawThis
March prompt: AVOCADO

Then I turned my attention to editing my first actual contracted author commission. It’s an educational non-fiction book that’s still in development. More on that to follow. And hey, I even got paid for said book today. Let me tell you – it might not have been much but it felt pretty darn good. WIN!

I went to the gym this evening and had a great workout with my daughter. Okay, honestly – this one’s a stretch. As a menopausal woman the gym is not my happy place. Feels more like volunteering for prescribed torture. But I burnt a few calories (might have a sneaky Snickers bar, finding the balance people) and got those endorphins pumping. Look at me taking rejection like a pro! All in all, not a bad day. I’m thankful for it.

There’s a saying, ‘What’s meant for you won’t go by you.’ So, while I wait for that golden ticket or that lottery win, I’m going to keep working towards that dream publishing deal. And make a point to remember all the small wins along the way. So far…

Those short stories published in a small press.

Crowvus anthology: A Ghost for Christmas 2020

That night I stood with my family and saw my work in Spectra Light Festival.

‘Together’ light installation sculpture by Lucid Creates. 2022

Those are worth celebrating.

Getting fired up to press ignition.

copyright Karen McDonald 2023

I’ve been an artist ever since I was small. And though I enjoyed writing in secondary school I didn’t then have any burning desire to pursue it.

Fast forward a few too many years and it’s become my passion. I wish it hadn’t taken me this long to realise that I loved to tell stories. In my youth, with my art and photography, I was expressing myself and the world around me. Those creative outlets were already telling stories – I just didn’t hear them.

But in recent years it became obvious that marrying words with narrative illustrations is what I love to do. And for some time now I’ve been taking steps towards realising my dream of becoming a published children’s author.

First, I put pen to paper and came up with not so good picture book stories. I joined a couple of critique groups. (This has been the most valuable experience to date. Finding those like minded folks, that supportive tribe – is everything.) I dived in to social media and followed an army of publishing professionals – and hopefuls like myself. I developed my craft and continue to learn from every resource out there. I know my work is very much better now. A recent competition long-listing went some way to validating that. I think I have some great stories. But what next?

The publishing industry is a tough one – and competition is fierce! The goal of seeing one of my stories in a bonafide picture book sometimes seems impossible. But once, sending astronauts to the moon seemed impossible – still, we did it. And plan to reach even further to Mars!

I’ve yet to really test the metal of my manuscripts. I need to be brave and share my stories with the gatekeepers that can elevate them to the dizzying heights of a spot on the bookshelf. It’s time to press the ignition and hope my book babies can reach the stars. Wish me luck!

What are your goals? Leave a comment and let me know how you’re getting on with your endeavours.

D.INKY Diary

copyright Karen McDonald

Snow… in March!

Thanks for shovelling the white stuff off that patch of grass for me, Dad. My little tail end gets chilly when I need to – you know, go. But wait – ooh, this white stuff is kind of fun.

Mum was busy with work indoors and was already regretting her decision to let Danni run free. ‘Look at me, Mum!’ Woof!

Floofy long-haired, short-legged sausages and snow are a recipe for snow baubled zoomie monsters! The only way to tame the beast – ‘treatos’ …Woof! and DUN DUN DUN… a warm bath!

The life of a pampered pooch can be perilous.