I once read that the essence of bad writing is inconsistent pacing. That the worst thing an author can do when developing a character is to turn their life around in a complete 180-degree turn of events. Be careful when dropping sudden deaths, epiphanies, world-shattering disasters, et cetera, too many times in a row for fear of accidentally creating the most plastic of narratives. Because big life events come in waves, don’t they? They ebb and flow in a way that is natural, leaving space for growth, thought, for life to settle back into itself before the next big event comes to swoosh a poor unassumer off their feet.
Well climate change is real bitches. The sea’s fucked, and so is life.
Within the first few months of 2023, I needed more than one hand to count the number of proverbial tidal waves that rushed into my life. Bereavement, illness, pain, stress, arguments, life upheaval - you name it, I have a recent story about it. Every time I got on the phone with friends I’d utter a bittersweet ‘well, it can’t get any worse’ only to promptly receive another grand whack on the back of the head by an unexpected inciting incident.
I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining - this sort of thing, ultimately, is life. Some people get lucky with the hand they are dealt (mine is luckier than most I would say), and though it is our duty as fellow creatures to support and love and fight back against some of the worst injustices in our world, really there are some happenings that you can’t reason with or comfort against. Sometimes life is just a bit shit. Sometimes it’s like things are so nonsensically chaotic you couldn’t possibly make them up. Well, you could. But it wouldn’t be deemed good writing.
Unfortunately I’m a bad writer, then. Especially since, for the next two years at least, I’m probably not going to get much actual writing done at all. Why, you ask? Well, if you cast your eyes further down this screen, all will soon be revealed…
(Much suspense! Much pacing! Maybe I am a decent writer after all…)
I’m blogging a short one today, mainly because my life is a rough-and-tumble of forms and social calendars and scrabbling to remain myself in-between work. But big news is:
I’m moving!
In seven weeks!!
Not moving just out of London, out of England (thank Christ), the UK, Europe, but (drumroll please, maestro) - JAPAN!
I’m. Moving. To. Japan.
Well, what else were you expecting when I announced a huge life change - a new hairstyle? Nah, as it turns out, in this quiet little life I lead a phone call from the Japanese Embassy whilst sat in a Friday hospital waiting room is simply to be expected. Following a weekend of forms, worries, flurries of conversations with friends and family in-between Eurovision, what could I do but dive into this next great adventure?
Thirteen-year-old Charlotte would be ecstatic now at what her older self has accomplished. Now, at the grand old age of Twenty-Four, I am somehow in every feeling all at once. My present emotional state fluctuates like oscillating sound waves - at my peaks I am exhilaratedly optimistic when considering all of the wonderful opportunities life has handed me. At my troughs, I feel physically sick. Right now I am somewhere in the middle, a little tired maybe from the hours of Japanese practice and work, but reservedly eager to fly.
The last time I moved to a new country I was nine and didn't like myself. I’ve come a long way since then, and feel much more secure in my own ability to navigate difficult situations. But Wales and Japan are not the same thing, for sure, and it’s natural to be worried before such a huge change of life direction. Worried about things like making myself understood in a language I am not fluent in, how to remain as vegan as possible in a seafood-based culture, the massive moths that live over there.
I’m worried about friends too. Making new ones, who I’ll be in a new place. Who I’ll turn into. The people my own friends will be when I return two years down the line. If we’ll have anything in common anymore. Of course, I know we will, but feelings like this often don’t care about your facts.
It’s not all quibbles of anxiety though - despite the version of myself I present to you all on this little site. With every worry I feel, there also comes a gleaming promise of the greatest adventure I’ve yet known. I think that’s one thing that will see me through every worry stage. Because the only thing that scares me more than all of these aforementioned things is regret.
In early May, I came out of hospital with a job offer, a visa form to organise, and a negative diagnosis for cancer. A few days later someone I knew died from that same disease. I thought to myself then that, times being what they are, one day when I’m much older (touch wood) I will be sat in a hospital again. And during that appointment, the doctor will tell me it’s cancer for real this time. I thought to myself how, in that moment when I’m being faced with news of my impending end, I want to look back on my life and confidently say:
‘Yeah, what a great one’.
Though I feel in many ways my Dad’s premature diagnosis and subsequent death from lung cancer didn’t really affect me too much, I think it’s when faced with huge life choices that this ‘no regrets’ attitude really rears its head. I especially feel it around Father’s Day. If there’s one thing I learnt from sitting at the back of class in primary school, quietly colouring as an alternative to making the Father’s Day cards all my peers eagerly glitterglued together, it’s that life is really bloody short.
And that’s why I have to make every opportunity count, grind my way to every positive outcome, clasp every glimmer of a good thing before it sparkles away.
And this job in Japan is a very good thing.
The only sadness about all of this is that I’ll have to park writing for a little while. At least novel writing. I’m going to focus on experiencing life and Japan in the footsteps of David Mitchell and Angela Carter. Hopefully it will help make my next work even better. But don’t be dismayed - I will still keep up this blog. And after many moons of toil on my current novel, I finished my final edit last week. When I return from Japan I’ll start sending my first book to agents again, whilst writing a second based on the experiences I shall gain.
More than anything, I can’t wait to be a better writer through knowing this world I live in a little more familiarly.
How’s that for a long-term aim?
I will have more information on the where, whats, et ceteras soon, but for now I can hardly believe how in the blink of an eye, everything has changed.
Thank you, whoever you are, for all your support. I shall say my farewells to London soon, but a big salutation to the rest of my life.
All my stars,
Char
It's been four years since I was last in Japan - a fifth of a life away. It will be another life entirely when I return. Oh how excited I am to live!
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