Loch Ness a Lot Less?

According to this, the Loch Ness Monster is merely the trunk of an elephant. In actuality, this photo, one of the most famous, is a fake.

This legend, according the article, has been around since 1933. While I admit the picture does indeed look like an elephant's trunk, I would suggest that the researcher dig a little deeper on reported sightings.

Here for example, or here. There are a number of places and websites dedicated to the alleged Loch Ness Monster, or plesiosaur, some are good some are not. There are dedicated sites and there are sites, which I'm sure you can find, that are a combination of all modern day mythologies. And you're wondering about my point.

Well, it is this: a lucrative myth has grown up around Nessie, just like it has around Bigfoot, Area 52, the assassination of JFK, werewolves, etc. The outrageous and astonishing have always captured the imagination of the public, even as they garner sneers in private professional circles.

I think media outlets should really check their facts - and photos - first before printing speculation unless the readership is told specifically that it is speculative.

I've long thought that media standards have dropped to an all time low since a certain someone came to the fore in the industry. Sensationalism has replaced Facts... but that's another bugbear of mine.

While Nessie and the other mysteries continue to be categorically unproven, the media should stay out of it. Have definitive proof and print it, or leave the myths and mysteries alone to be enjoyed by those who believe in them. Anything else smacks of the above mentioned sensationalism.

Passing by

According to Science Fiction Weekly Nebula and Hugo award winning author Octavia Butler has died, aged 58.

The number three comes into play here, because the same magazine has also reported the deaths of Kolchak: The Nightstalker star, Darren McGavin, 83, and Don Notts, 81.

I've never read Ms Butler, but I'm familiar with the name. As for Darren McGavin and Don Notts, I watched Nightstalker and some of the episodes scared the tripe out of me. It was scary stuff, compelling, and I often found myself leaning towards the television set just before the creature was unveiled. The shocks were real; my heart would pound and I'd get that instant hot/cold feeling. I have no idea why I continued to watch Nightstalker, I just did. Perhaps it was the slow build up of tension, followed by the creepy bit - it wasn't a bloodfest, or gratuitous, it just was. At least, that's my memory of it.

Don Notts I remember from The Incredible Mr Limpet and the Disney movies he was in. A cowardly, facially mobile, bug-eyed man of enormous talent and humour.

It's sad that all three have gone, but their work will go on.

Overly Sensitive

Also in Science Fiction Weekly is an interesting story on British author Michael Moorcock and the fact that his latest book, The Vengeance of Rome "has no American publisher and probably won't until 'the current political climate changes'." The gist of the problem is that Moorcock's protagonist is considered unacceptable to the American public at large. I don't agree and for the publishers to fear a 'backlash' is to deny the readers there the opportunity to form their own opinions. Moorcock has argued that "The publishers, with what strikes me as a typical contempt for their readership, feel they know best." You can read more at the above link.

This kind of thing is becoming more prevalent, with overseas authors rejecting US publishing offers because of publishers demanding changes to suit what they see as the current political climate in America. Contempt is right. American readers are perfectly capable of not buying a book if they're unhappy with the reviews or word of mouth about it, or even the blurb. They are perfectly capable of making their unhappiness or enjoyment of a book known. We do not need a book police, thank you very much; no democratic country does, nor do the reading public need publishers to tell us what we should and should not be reading. We can make up our own minds; it's why we've got them.

Writers Festivals

The first of the 2006 Writers Festivals is being held in Adelaide this week. Held from the 5th to the 10th of March, luminaries such as Val McDermid, Minette Walters, Ronald Wright, Vikram Seth, Delia Falconer, David Malouf, Helen Garner, Sandy McCutcheon are attending. Some of the interesting topics include: Tyranny of History, Imaginary Homelands, Learning the Craft and Raising the Dead. One day, when I grow up, I'm gonna go to this festival.

Next up is the St Kilda Writers Festival 24-30 April. No word yet on who's attending, but the list should be up soon - at least I hope it is.

The Sydney Writers Festival is 22-28 May. I haven't decided whether to go, they haven't posted any guests and they've had some seriously pretentious 'guests' in the past. Very much a 'literary' event where political correctness and the current fad in social outrage finds a willing audience. Not my bag really.

In the depths of a Canberra Winter, Conflux 3 is being held 9-12 June at the National Museum. This Festival is different to all the others I've posted here: It's all about Science Fiction and Fantasy and I'm there! Oh, yes, I've paid up, got somewhere to stay, money in my pocket and excitement brewing. Who's going to be there? Well, by virtue of virtual: Ray Bradbury, Sir Arthur C. Clark and Lloyd Alexander; live and in person International Editor Guest of Honour: Ellen Datlow, International Special Guests: Joan D. Vinge, Steve Jackson and Jim Frenkel. Other guests are: Sara Douglass, Kate Forsyth, Manga artist, Queenie Chan, children's author, Jackie French and a bunch of others. There will be an art show, film festival, as well as the traders room and talks/discussions/panels. I am soooo looking forward to this...

Hmm..., now that I've picked up and brushed off my dignity, I'll get to the rest:

Melbourne's Writers Festival is later on in the year: 25 August to 3 September, an excellent time of the year to have it. Melbourne is gorgeous in the Spring, and the Festival is celebrating 20 years.

Brisbane plays host to the writers from 14-17 September. Nice and warm. I don't know who's going to be there, I imagine their still organising. Until I know, of course I'm not going.

Byron Bay Writers Festival celebrates 10 years from 3-6 August. This festival attracts writers like Thomas Keneally (whose work I loathe), Peter FitzSimons (whose books are brilliant), comedian and social commentator, Wendy Harmer, and others. It's closer to me than Adelaide and Melbourne, so this year it might just be a goer - depending on which writers turn up.

There are other regional writers events going on, it's just a matter of tuning in to your arts area. Your local library is a good place to start hunting for the festivals or local writer's group.

Shifted

I've spent my Saturday moving furniture. Yep, the monster desk arrived yesterday and today I unloaded two bookcases, moved them, the computer stuff, the filing cabinet, the table the computer was on, the stereo and my beloved collection of dragons. I've also stained the desk hutch that will sit on the monster.

Some days, I wish I had a significant other to help shift stuff, but hey, I moved it myself and it's done. All I have to do now is wait for the hutch to dry, move it into position and I can stop procrastinating and get on with fling words around. Since the desk has a keyboard draw, I bought myself a wireless keyboard and mouse, so there are now no excuses.

If I ever have to move house... well, let's not create any nightmares. I'm smug and satisfied with the new look of my office. Uh, actually, there is one more thing I need: a chair. Not new, thank you, but a wooden one to match the desk unit. I'm patient though, I can wait until I see one, rather than dashing out and purchasing the first one I see. I searched for two years for the right desk, I can wait for the matching chair.

Actually, now that I think about it, I'm ready to get back to writing. I have a book to finish and there's no time like the present.

Spiders...

I've actually lost a couple of posts due to some sort of collision in cyberspace. But, not to worry. This is one I found rather interesting.

A couple of nights ago, I was watching CSI:NY. One young character, it was finally established, died from the bite of the "Brazilian Wandering Spider". This name was repeated a number of times.

This is the Brazilian Wandering spider.


I really dislike eight-legged creatures, and I'm aware that, here in Australia, we have a few of the nasties. I also get a little peeved when television programs all over the world use an item/animal, whatever, and it is so wrong. Is the international viewing community so little thought of that producers couldn't be bothered with accuracy? I mean, come on! Every arachnaphobe knows a deadly spider when they see it, hell we know the not-so-deadly ones, too.

It's not a good picture, but this is taken from CSI:NY


If anyone remembers the episode "Zoo York" (yeah, I know we're a long way behind, but what can you do?) you'll recall Stella 'milking' the aforementioned Brazilian Wandering Spider.

Nuh, not even close. It looked more like this:

Atrax Robustus, commonly known as the Sydney Funnelweb Spider.

Although I suspect that the spider on the carpet is something harmless (Can't really have a deadly spider running around, can we?). The part of the program I refer to is when Stella is 'milking' the damn thing. Two thoughts here: no one in their right mind would pick up a deadly spider to milk it that way - FYI pipettes are used so fingers are nowhere near fangs - and two, the image that stays in my mind is that it was a Funnelweb spider, a big one, all glossy carapace, big, downward striking fangs, spinnerets on its butt... I could be wrong, but I have seen 'em that big; down at the Snowy Mountains, yep, they're BIG.

I'd like to think that U.S. production teams would do better in authenticating their props. Guess I was wrong... again. Next thing you know, they'll be calling our Red-back spider a "Black Widow"!

Stuff

I took a phone call this week letting me know my desk had arrived. Yep, a full six weeks early. I did not jump for joy, nor did I panic. It was more of an 'oh, shit' moment. Why? I figured I had plenty of time to move things around before it arrived. Let's remember this is 1.77 metres wide, or nearly six feet; no small thing.

I'm looking at where the desk is supposed to go, and there is no way it's gonna fit; not unless I do some heavy work. My current desk is four feet wide; on one side is a four foot wide bookcase, filled with, well, books. On the other is a seven and a half foot wall unit. On the outside of the bookcase and the unit are power points. On the other side of the unit power point, is a doorway and another bookcase. Yeah, it's a long room. The facing wall has built in shelves along it's length and doors grace each end of the room leading to outside.

What to do?

The only thing I can: shift furniture. The easiest way is to replace the bookcase with one of my smaller ones - the three foot one. Of course, I've got to take out the books in each, shift the cases, then reload. Just looking at it all is depressing, but the desk, oh, the desk is worth it.

To add to all this is the delivery of thirteen more books I ordered. That leaves about four somewhere out there in Aussie Post land. I think I'm going to need another bookcase...

What price a country?

Most people in Australia believe in a fair go; that most immigrants are welcome as long as they don't bring their bad habits here. We love our ethnic foods, we love our multicultural festivals, we're friendly to our neighbours, no matter where they came from and we will help a local community no matter where the citizens were born.

Australians are known for a laidback lifestyle and laconic humour, our generosity of spirit and the indefinable ethic of 'mateship'.

But don't think we'll accept anybody. Australia, like every other nation has a right to chose who shall and shall not be allowed to come to the country; as a tourist, as a worker, as a new citizen.

So what's this all about, huh? Is there some reason why the Treasurer isn't allowed to express his opinion?

Is there some reason why new citizens shouldn't be loyal to this country? Why they can't respect what Australia is all about? Isn't that why they came here in the first place? For freedom, for democracy, for a better life?

Mr Costello said: "anyone not prepared to accept Australian values, and who had citizenship of another country, should not remain an Australian citizen."

As westerners, we are required to accept the cultural, social and legal values of any other country we move to, or, indeed, visit. Our country isn't any different.

Simply put: You don't like how we do things here, then go where you do like how things are done.

Australia is for Australians, and we come from here, the Americas, the Asias, Europe, the British Isles, Africa, the Pacific Islands, just about every nation you care to name. What we don't want is for radical bigots bringing their shit over here and causing a ruckus.

I don't care where you come from, you don't like your own country? Change it from the inside, don't come here and criticise us for not doing enough, for being culturally insensitive, for being intolerant. You don't like our own country? Go somewhere else, don't harass our women on the beach because bikinis offend your eyes, don't roam in vicious packs attacking lone people and blame it on the victim. Don't demand we understand your way when it is not our way - make the information available, and we will read it. Don't curse at our lack of attention when you won't even learn our language.

What really pisses me off is that anyone who expresses an opinion, an opposing opinion, on this topic is branded a racist. Sorry, but bullshit.

This country was built on certain values, is maintained by certain values, and is respected for those values. That is the Australia I live in. If you can't or won't accept those values, then fuck off.

Hot books

While the typical argument goes on about what romance is and isn't, what erotica is and isn't, the genre continues to draw in readers.

If you're in any doubt as to it's popularity, check out Rendezvous Books. Yesterday, on the first day of their sale, the site crashed under the weight of customers. In the morning, within two hours of the sale being on. Not bad for a genre long derided.

I'm hoping to get in early on Wednesday to avoid another possible crash.

Rights of the individual

Today, I watched the morning talk show. It's light entertainment that sometimes tackles the 'big' issues. One particular guest, though, has stuck his university's finger into a hornets nest.

He and his group, Resistence have put together and are selling flag burning kits. You get a miniature Australian flag, a fire starter and a box of matches. Why? To protest the governments policies on asylum seeker detention, our contribution to the Iraq war, treatment of the indigenous population and the way we are being governed. As spokesman for this group, Tim *** feels that it is a way to create debate in society on issues that concern the citizens.

He's right. Those issues do concern Australians. He's wrong, however, to take this approach. Tim came across as naive in the extreme and showed a distinct lack of knowledge on these issues. He, in fact, wasn't interested in any argument against his perceived ideas. His and his groups attitude is that the refugees should be released, that no war is ever justified and more money and resources should be given to the indigenous population. The rest is an amorphous generality.

I'll explain the other side. We have no refugees in detention. We have asylum seekers who are detained until their health, character and legitimacy can be established. It is Australia's sovereign right to decide who can and cannot come to this country, like any other nation on Earth.

The action in Iraq. This is a controversial topic. There are plenty of arguments for and against. For me, personally, the government acted to the best of its knowledge at the time. Who lied to whom when isn't the issue. And while we are there, our soldiers are doing the best they can to mitigate the disaster and make the Iraqi lives better. If all the Coalition of the Willing withdraw, the area will be plunged into civil war. So which is better? Staying to help after being told a lie or taking the huff, dropping the whole thing and leaving them to sort it out themselves? I might add that Tim said that no war was justified, and this on the day that commemorates the bombing of Darwin during the Second World War!

Indigenous affairs. As a whole, the group, who represent 2.5 per cent of the population, are given $AUS600 million a year to help. Representatives have demanded that they should control the finance. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission did an absolutely shitty job and wasted the majority of the money. Worse, some members of the local councils felt the money was their personal bank and built homes for themselves and friends, bought cars, went on trips and totally ignored health, education and community. Some lawyers also took their cut. Throwing money at them isn't the answer; teaching them to live like human beings is, teaching the rest of the population the cultural differences is.

And as for Tim's view on government policy, he seems to think that all governments, past and present, are corrupt, evil entities who ignore the population at large. Two of the above issues were introduced by the previous Labor government. Does he, or the group, actually know that or is this simply a way of gaining attention?

For me, they look like self-aggrandizing prats who will garner support from the lunatic fringe.

It is his right to burn the Australian flag, there is no law against it, but I wonder if there is a law against profiting from it. The kits are $5 each. Not much, but Tim was smug in saying they'd 'sold a few'.

In a time of social unrest throughout the world, this stunt is the last thing anyone needs, and the fuckwits of the country will rejoice at having 'a bit of fun', until it gets out of control and turn into significant protests on one subject or another.

If this is what they're allowing university students to get up to, then the whole system needs a desperate overhaul. Pills like this one need to be taught a better understanding of politics and sociology before they're allowed out. It's an embarrassment to this country. I, for one, would like to kick the tripe out this group and give them the appropriate lecture on understanding their topic, social and cultural awareness and, yes, political policy and how it's formed.

Segregation

I've been working over at the Project Gutenberg site to boost my proofreading skills. For those who don't know, Project Gutenberg is a site that is digitizing Public Domain books into Project Gutenberg e-books.

It's an interesting exercise, and since I'm interested in history, military history at that, I chose the book, Integration of the Armed Services, 1945-1965 by Morris J. MacGregor. It's a fascinating exposition on how the Afro-American fought to fight for America during the Second World War and beyond.

The interest soon raised questions in my mind about how we deal with the Indigenous population here. Where the American Negro suffered from legal and enforceable segregration, and, in some respects, still does, our own indigenous peoples have been segregated too, except they volunteered for the segregation.

I live near such a group and they are adamant at excluding any white people or, in fact, any ethnicity not their own. I'm not being critical of their choices, I'm exploring this new found revelation; the diametrically opposed situations of two similar groups of people half a world apart.

Of course, various actions groups have long been casting evil glares at the the Commonwealth government for not 'apologising' for something that happened a century or more ago. I find it curious that, although the indigenous population were 'forceably' integrated - now called the 'stolen generation' - they now choose to form their own enclaves and distance themselves from forming a cohesive, multicultural society with the rest of Australia. This can also be applied to migrants: the South-East Asians of Cabramatta, the Middle East Arabs of Lakemba, the Greeks of Melbourne, and so on.

For one country, the black population tried desperately for equality in all areas and it took violence and a generation to achieve; for the other country, forced integration was rejected at every turn and has failed in virtually every aspect. We have successful indigenous people, but they remain in the minority, no matter what encouragement is given.

I'm not being racist in this, although such observations would, in more fundamental areas, give rise to outraged screeching, it's merely an interesting dichotomy. At least in my view. I'll have to read more on this subject, I think.

What the butler saw

Lots of things happening in our part of the world, and none of it good.

The others of the so called Bali Nine are up for sentencing today. Yesterday, Lawrence and Rush were sentenced to life for drug trafficking. Ringleaders Andrew Chan, 22, and Myuran Sukumaran, 24, could be sentenced to death for their involvement. It must be especially disappointing for Lawrence who expected 20 years, after co-operating with police and testifying against her fellow accused. They're best hope now is that the Federal Government get moving on the prisoner exchange program.

In associated news, Do Hyung Lee, 25, accused of recruiting drug mules for the Indonesia-Australia run, has been released on bail. It's alleged he has links to the Bali Nine. It would be nice if we could exchange this one for, say, Schapelle Corby.

Liberal MP Danna Vale has gone way, way out on a limb by suggesting that Australians are "aborting themselves out of existence" and run the risk of "becoming a Muslim nation in 50 years." The plan is to have authority for the use of abortion drug RU486 remain with parliament. Last week, the Senate voted to strip the Health Minister, Tony Abbott of the responsibility of RU486 and hand it to the Therapeutic Drugs Administration. If amendments are passed, it would mean parliament would ultimately be responsible for the drug and debate its veto or its use. Ms Vale has upset the Muslims with this call, and her colleagues have taken a swift side step. It's bad enough that the use of an abortion drug is a highly contentious issue, but assuming a result fifty years down the track is really out there. It's not as if we are allowing Muslims only to immigrate, for fuck's sake!
And using the current sensitivities surrounding Muslims is reprehensible!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, more allegations of interference in decisions at government level, this time with the Greenhouse policy. Former scientists at Australia’s premier research organisation, the Commonwealth Scientific and I Research Organisation (CSIRO) have stated publicly that they were censored in their comments about greenhouse emission if their views did not reflect government policy.

As with the scandal involving the Australian Wheat Board, I have to suggest cronyism and obsequiousness being the culprits. The government cannot comment on issues its’ senior public servants fail to inform them of. If managers are trying to protect their own turf by denying any knowledge of the situation, or leaking documents that they kept, but did not pass on, then the public service is as amoral and unethical as it has been accused of.

With the AWB, the organisation at the centre of payments to Hussein’s regime, the contracts under question were approved by the United Nations. Again, did the AWB know, before the contract was approved know that the Jordanian trucking company was a front for Hussein? If the United Nations thought it was okay, why doesn’t the Federal Opposition? It still comes down to what the Board was told by its on the ground representatives. And AWB aint talkin'.

I don't blame them. The media hype and Opposition accusations are outrageous. Nothing has been proven, no evidence presented; only heresay and verballing of the Board. They are, rightly, going to wait until the Cole inquiry is over before making any statement.

Anything else will undermine the company and the United Nations (conveniently forgotten in all this). No doubt when the results are released, there will be an 'outrcry' no matter the result from opposing factions.

Who knows what the butler saw? He aint talking either.

Christian charity?

I was going to ignore the current slanging match between various weblogs on authors who are happy to send books overseas at their own expense like PBW and Alison Kent and our own JanieR versus those who aren't like Brenda Coulter.

The upshot of the argument is that Brenda doesn't see it as worthwhile, but an expense she's not willing to undertake. That's within her right. Brenda writes so called Christian Inspirationals, an insipid, unrealistic genre currently enjoying a resurgence in middle America as a panacea to the increasingly erotic mainstream romance genre. Oy. I'm not going to condemn those who read such books, either overtly erotic or 'sweet' romances (although I probably have by calling CIs 'insipid and unrealistic).

I am gobsmacked. Simply amazed that a writer would stoop to personal insults over a perfectly legitimate discussion, just because some people disagree. It gets worse:

These people love to hate, and I am one of their favorite targets. That they think I'm actually trying to annoy them in order to get attention shows exactly how little they understand about me and this blog. And every time one of them posts something about That Horrible Brenda Coulter, her blogging sisters pick up the cry.

Brenda, sweetie you're just not that important.

If you want to be a successful author, you do what you must, even sending copies of your books to overseas readers, no matter what you think of them. An expense in the short term will reap rewards in the long term. And I'm not talking about warm fuzzies and buying your way into heaven. It's a business, not a clique where you can exclude those who don't agree.

What Brenda has done now is to call into question respondents intelligence and personalities. To quote:

For the past several days, their fangirls have been rushing over here as eagerly as if they'd just been offered tickets to a Maury Povich show on transsexuals who steal their granddaughters' boyfriends.* Yes, I have received hundreds of extra visitors in the past few days. No, I am not grateful for the increased traffic, because I haven't been terribly impressed by the intelligence and the personalities of the individuals who have attempted to rail at me here on the blog (I delete all comments containing profanity) and who have sent me virulent e-mails (which I won't stoop to answer).

A weblog is public; keep private thoughts private otherwise you do open yourself to criticism and flaming. There are so many more important things to be discussing out there without resorting to personal insults or condeming people for having an opinion. This post, for example, is mine. I don't expect everyone to agree, that would be foolish of me.

For those of us overseas, we're thrilled that our favourite authors are willing to take the time to pay us attention; we are not so thrilled to be dumped on for being a 'promotional' exercise. There are more of us out there than within the borders of the US, and that means, by publically sneering at us, Ms Coulter will find a less than welcome reception should she ever decide to publish overseas.

Interest or Profit?

It was only a matter of time before those cartoons turned up here and it's typical of the Queenslanders to do it. The Courier Mail, a newspaper in Brisbane printed one as did the Rockhampton Morning Bulletin.

I have to wonder at the thinking of the editors. Did the fact that there have been riots world-wide over this issue enter into their thinking? It doesn't appear so.

There has been much debate on whether it is in the so called 'public interest' to show these cartoons, or whether it's simply a measure of gaining increased profit because there's been a backlash and everyone wants to know what the fuss is about.

We in the western world think nothing of satirical comment on events and politicians. If you are a public figure, you're going to be a target of comment - good and bad. This, I feel is different. The issue is different.

Any depiction of the prophet is blasphemous. If a similar blasphemous image of Jesus Christ was published, there would be a reaction and rightly so. It's bad enough that the Danes thought it amusing; the Moslems thought it insulting.

There is no doubt in my mind that those cartoons, twelve in all, should never been published. It is a special kind of bullshit when an editor sits on his/her high horse and suggests it's all in the name of 'freedom of the press' or the 'public has a right to know'. An editors job is to decide whether it is 'ethical' to print such a thing; whether the public should be informed. Ethics went out the window; the public's right to know was no such thing. One cartoonist's twisted thinking and an editor's funny bone has created a storm of controversy. What did they think would happen? That Moslems would chuckle, like they did? Did they not consider the insulting nature? The offensiveness?

It's a controversy that should have remained 'in country' except for the Imams who cut the cartoon out and went to the Middle East to show everyone! This is where the violence was let loose.

I'm calling both sides stupid: stupid for creating the cartoons, stupid for publishing them, stupid for spreading the malice and stupid for inciting the riots. This isn't the first time something offensive has been published, nor will it be the last and I have no hope that editors will consider the consequences of future actions while they sit wrapped in 'freedom of the press' or 'the public's right to know'.

Both phrases can cover all sorts of morally reprehensible actions and with this issue, it has only served to further alienate Islam from the West and provoke more unnecessary violence.

Buckets!

I'm dropping a bucket on the Opposition and others for the outrageous proliferation of lies and conjecture as truth.

I know that Kim Beazley is an unhappy man - he was a disaster as Defence Minister and copped two floggings at elections. Described as not having the 'ticker' to be Prime Minister, he was the most unpopular Opposition leader... ever.

Now though, he's back, and with a vengeance. He's shrouded himself in 'moral outrage' over a number of topics, but none more so than the AWB scandal. Not content with accusing the Australian Wheat Board of paying kickbacks to the Hussein regime, he now says he has evidence that the payments to a Jordanian trucking company that transported Australian wheat, was used to fund arms buying and the so-called weapons of mass destruction.

I'm sorry, but... what? This was the guy who accused the government of going to war for a lie, that there weren't WMDs. Now he's saying there were, and he has evidence? Please, Kim, share this with us; not just your party, but the United Nations - who found no evidence - with the whole world - who are a little embarrassed that they were wrong. Are you now saying Hussein did have WMDs? And that we paid for them?

For a politician, he's being remarkably naive if he thinks the Australians were the only ones to pay for the transportation of products. It's custom in middle east and eastern countries to pay 'that little bit extra' to clear the way. Call it a bribe, a kickback, whatever, but that is the way these countries do business.

And because Kim is pissed off that we went to war - against his wishes - he's spouting all sorts of bile. The Cole inquiry has yet to hand down it's findings, but Kim has made up his mind on this.

Nationals leader, Mark Vaile, has come out and said he was aware of concerns with the AWB some four years ago, but the lack of evidence had him dismissing those concerns.

The inquiry itself has come about because an American senator wanted to further his, and his country's, ambition in the Iraq region. Given that Australia exports more wheat to Iraq than America does, and they want an in, we became the logical target. Ban Australian wheat and the way is open for American wheat. If a 'scandal' ensues, well, that's politics and it's becoming dirty.

I have to say that the US Wheat Association was a little late in it's howling for blood. Did they not know about this? Or is it a case that for American companies, this is the way business is done: that payments are made in the same way? Whatever.

What pisses me off is a politician making outlandish and unsubstantiated claims that the AWB financed weapons to kill our own troops. Bull. Shit. If you're going that route, then the French, Germans, Russians and yes, the British and Americans are guilty too; after all, it was western countries who financed the war against Iran. That's where the weapons came from.

Mr Beazley should present the evidence, or shut the hell up before he's considered more than just a posturing idiot.

Sport, sport and... more sport

For the past fifteen years or so, I've set aside this day to watch the American Superbowl. We call it Gridiron here. First, yay! to both sides, the Seattle Seahawks and the Pittsburgh Steelers. Second, boo! to the umpires. Boo, boo, boo. What an amateurish effort in the first half! Yes, the umps have a difficult job, but jeez, they sure as hell should have been more professional in their decisions. I've seen some poor decisions in the game, but never so many so consistantly. I was beginning to think the umps were determined for the Seahawks not to win anything. And before you jump all over me, my team is the Dallas Cowboys who... ahem... didn't make it. Third, woot! I love the game and regardless of the... dubious decisions, I enjoyed it... mostly. Both teams had their opportunities and the Steelers came out on top. Congrats to them.

The Aussies apparently 'monstered' the Proteas in the one day cricket international yesterday. Australia scored a massive 6-344 from 50 overs; the South Africans scored 6-287 after 50. Yes, it was a great score by us, but kudos to the Proteas for not giving up. On another day, that would have been a winning total. The Aussies just had more Vegemite than the Proteas, and exposed their mean streak. It doesn't matter who Australia comes up against in the finals starting Friday, the way they are playing they're virtually unbeatable. And having said that, the game comes down to who plays the best on the day and we know that it is easy to fall into a heap. Go us!

The National Swimming trials are over and the team has been selected for the Commonwealth Game. There is much controversy about the exclusion of Craig Stevens who won the 400 metres but was excluded from the team because his time was only the 21st fastest in the world. That is, it was not a fast enough qualifying time. Some swimmers who came in third in their races have been selected. I don't have a problem with this. It was always my understanding that races, including athletics, had a qualifying time. Stevens wasn't fast enough; it's a simple as that.

The Winter Olympics begin tonight and we're hoping for a couple of medals. It doesn't matter what colour, this country is not known for it's winter sports. Just getting there is an accomplishment in my book. Good luck to them all. And let's remember that it was luck that lead Stephen Bradbury to the first gold medal in speed racing when the rest of the field fell metres from the finish line. He freely admits it was luck, but that's the sport.

One last sporting event and that's the Super 14 Rugby Union. The Game they play in Heaven kicks off this weekend. While I'd like to see the Brumbies up there at the end of the season, my thinking is that the teams still to beat is the Crusaders. They are an astonishing talent and I love to watch them play, even though their from New Zealand. (Of course, I'll go for any team who wups the asses of the South African thugs... um... teams.)

Distant shores, close magic

I've finally sorted out my connection to Skype, the online telephone service. When my brother first suggested it, I thought it a nifty idea. No more long distance phone charges, able to talk as if he was standing right there...

Then I figured, nuh, I have dial up, not broadband. A few months later, I'd forgotten about Skype and I kind of got shanghaied into having broadband. I thought it just a chat on the telephone with the provider, but a few days later, the modem turned up. Huh. Okay, I thought, why not? And duly went through the destructions to connect. Great! Faster connection, faster downloads, the werld is my oy-stahhh!

Cue now. The bills makes me wince a little, but I can manage that by not having such a cavalier attitude to where I go, and not overuse the 'net - if there is such a thing.

With the post-Christmas sales, I had the opportunity to visit a new computer gaming store and lo, headphones with microphones half-price! Woo-hoo! I've been looking for voice recognition software for manuscript feedback and all I had to do now was find the software.

My brother sent me an e-mail, the kind that chats about family news. He again suggested Skype. Why not give it another go. So I went to the site, had to fool around with the microphone levels, sort out how I was going to go about contacting him, sent an email back that I was up and running. All I had to do was wait.

While I did that I went to CNET, the freeware and shareware site and downloaded some voice recognition.

I happened to be enunciating very carefully as I went through the tutorial when, bugger me if the icon didn't flash and it was brother on the line, all the way from Qatar where he is a senior engineer!

We chatted for half an hour and I watched my broadband usage rise. Never mind about that - he and I can chat whenever now, rather than using a sometimes scratchy telephone line. The only difficulty will be the time difference. When he gets back to Denmark, where he lives now with his family, he'll set up another account there and I can talk to my niece and nephew.

I have to say that it's a marvellous invention, this Skype - or should I say development. Corporations here in the Land of Aus are moving towards this technology now because it cuts down the telephony bills significantly. No need to answer the phone the traditional way, just press the mouse button and you're away.

Magic works in mysterious ways, I think. Sometimes it's inescapable as it gently guides you to where you should be going. A metaphysical kick in the rear end if you will.

I'll be posting more on real magic in future posts. And if you think it doesn't happen to you... you're wrong.

Traveller of the mind

I start back at work in less than ten days; real life work, stuff I'm actually paid for even though it's not what I want.

This is a twelve month contract, a whole year of busting my butt for others, being nice and courteous to the public. I'm fortunate in that my job is in a beautiful area and in a national park. Of course, the money's good too.

Away from that reality is what I can do with the money, and my plan is to go overseas again. It's been ten years since my last jaunt. I find that too long. I love travelling; love the different cultures, different personalities, different landscapes.

But I'm not a tourist. I'm a traveller. The journey is just as important as the destination. Each journey teaches me about myself, and my fellow travellers. Not for me the phrase 'we have a bigger/better one in our own country', or bitching about the service, the food, the transportation, the accomodation. I like to study the differences, not criticise them.

The same can be said of the books we read: Whether one author is better than another, whether the story is intriguing or not, whether we'll read more from that author.

Each book is a unique experience, we imagine the story, the characters, the worlds created for us. The book's imagery settles into our mind like a memory, and when we see the title years down the track, we remember what it was about, or the blurb prompts that memory.

Whether we are travelling in fact, or travelling in mind, the memories build up to create a patterned quilt of our lives. The good, the bad, the dangerous and the downright ugly all come together to give us experiences we might not have otherwise had.

The difference, of course, is that books open up new worlds to us. Nothing limits us other than the quality of our imaginations.

So I'm pondering on where I shall go: The Pacific Northwest and New England? Or do I go the other way to Europe and the British Isles to hunt down my ancestors? One is an adventure novel, the other is a mystery novel. Both will be exciting and create more experiences in my library of memories.

Expectations

I was asked by a friend of mine for the manuscript of A Soldier's Ghost. He had read another of my novels, enjoyed it and wanted to read something else. My reaction was to smile, "Sure, I'll send it off to you in a couple of days".

I had stuff to do, you know real life stuff, so I couldn't do it immediately. What a relief! Not his asking, the real life stuff, because now I'm looking at the book thinking "Oh, shit, I did the mark-ups but didn't change the copy!"

I never actually thought anyone would want to read it. It is the second book I wrote. The first, The Saracen's Alchemist is, needless to say, terrible. Oh, the idea is great, it's the execution that's sadly lacking. This one isn't going to win any awards either. It's a better book, yes, but needs much work before anyone else sees it.

Yes, I gave it to my niece to read, she's twelve and thought it fabulous. She loves me, warts and all, and in her eyes, I can do no wrong. That's scary in itself. But for adults to read? No. Nuh-uh. No way. Not until I think it's ready for viewing and commenting.

It's a shorter piece, about 300 pages, and going to get shorter once I've put through the edits. Some of it will need re-writing, characters are going to need the smugness wiped off, there will be more description, better dialogue, the emotional impacts are going to be beefed up. I'll find a lot more to do to it.

I'm not going to apologise for the lateness of the work, he's a friend, not an editor and his request came out of the blue. I'd expected him to chose something else, or nothing at all if he didn't like the first one I gave to him.

Why am I not treating this as if an editor has asked to see my work? It's the lack of pressure. A friend won't mind, an editor would and before I send stuff to the professionals, I want input from friends, critiquers and a re-read myself to make sure it is the best it can possibly be. Hell, I need the practice. Yes, this book.

I can make it better, smarter and smoother and there is no reason why it can't be a professional book, even if it is the second one I wrote. It's not automatically excluded because it might be poorly written, or not as good as my later work.

The ideas are solid, the characters will be more engaging, it will be interesting. I am bringing what I've learned since this book was written to bear on a story I like. I want them all to be up to standard, and what better way to do that than to practice on what I first accomplished?

Work avoidance

We all do it. We know we have to do something, whether it is housework, letter writing, blog posting, shopping, whatever...

I'm avoiding work right now. I have a miserable assignment on 'contrasting meditative and descriptive styles' and 'the effectiveness of onomatopoeia'. Then there's the effects of verb usage. Oy...

Then there's the editing I've neglected. Yeah, I've had plenty of time and I've got plenty of excuses. I even know it's unprofessional of me. The worst of the excuses is that I've got 'plenty of time'. Say what? Plenty of time? I don't think so. Sure, I can write a book and a half in a month, Nano is good for getting off the butt to create. But edit the damn thing? I had fun writing, but editing means looking closer. Studying every word, every sentence, every paragraph, following the plot, the characters, dissecting what I've written. I don't think writers like to do that.

Oh, for the ability to write the perfect novel straight up. Unfortunately, I'd be permanently wearing smug.

Editing takes time. It takes focus. It takes a good grounding in language skills. It can sometimes suck the joy right out of writing.

On the other hand, it can surprise. After you've rested your great work (and you know it's great because of the feeling of satisfaction you had when you wrote 'the end') you'll go back and read it. I'll bet you've come across something you've written you don't remember typing, and thinking 'wow, that's great'. It's that something special that keeps us going, even if it's only us who know about it.

I have to remember that. When I look at the ream of paper I've put through the printer and think 'omg, that's a lot', I have to remind myself that, while I'm by no means a brilliant author, I've always come across passages that just work so well, I'm astonished. We all have those moments, and if you don't admit that, even to yourself, you're in denial.

The reason I've posted this is because I've had a request from a friend to read more of my work and I know damn well the book he wants has a sucky beginning - I can't seem to get beginnings right - and I have to do something about it.

So. Enough work avoidance. I'll just keep telling myself: I have no right to keep my imagination to myself... I have no right...

Two-time/streaks

Why use one word when two will do?

I live in a country where 'too much sport is never enough' to quote a couple of comedic sports commentators. And it's true. On a Saturday, you can turn the teev on and watch cricket, tennis, golf, motor sport or basketball, all televised at the same time.

What burns my wick, however, is the ongoing trend of superfluous words. A champion isn't a 'dual' winner or has won a particular event 'twice', he/she is a 'two-time winner/loser'. Call me a pedant or nitpicker, but that smacks of laziness.

Worse is the cliched 'losing/winning streak'. It doesn't sound bad, but when attached with 'two/three/four game', it descends into the realm of ridiculous. Since when has two games been considered a 'streak'? I love my sport, but I get a case of lock-jaw when a team's progress is described as a 'streak' whether they win or lose, or how many. Ten games lost. Yeah, when they win, you can describe that as having 'broken their ten game losing streak'. Two games is two games, not a streak.

We live in a world where the media are constantly vying for our attention, but the concept of 'spicing' up news/sport programs with the liberal salting of cliches and 'excitement' is denigrating the achievements of the people involved.

'If it bleeds, it leads' is the current catch-cry of various media groups. It sucks. Pure and simple. Gone are the days of journalists simply reporting the news; we live in an era of purple prose reporters who have to squeeze as much out of a story as possible. It's one of the reasons I gave up journalism. I couldn't do my job without throwing in various inflammatory phrases to catch people's attention. My job, as I saw it, was to report the news, not to create it. I presented the facts, not start a bloody riot with a slanting of what I saw.

The same can be said of novel writing. One school says to overstate what's happening; make your characters and situation larger than life (the rule: people will believe a big lie over a small one). The other school is to be spare in your writing and let your readers imagination fill in the gaps (the rule: a person's imagination has more creativity than your words, prompt them and they will do the rest).

During the times of Dickens, Austen, and others, descriptive passages were long and drawn out, using up as much space as possible to set the scene. Today, we use descriptive passages sparingly. Different times, different capacities for patience. In each era, it was the accepted style, neither is right or wrong. What has changed is our attitude and how much time we have for reading.

A few years ago, I read page after page of how an atomic bomb worked in a particular book. Pissed me off with it's technical descriptions and I skipped the last bit, bored: but it was in that last bit that described why the bomb didn't go off and I was left thinking 'huh?' Why didn't the author simplify the description? I really didn't give a rat's bladder about the whys and wherefores, I just wanted the story to move on and because of that one long, drawn out passage, the rest of the book was spoiled for me. I don't think I've read any more of that particular author because I was fed up with the constant technical descriptions. (I'm sure my no longer purchasing the books wouldn't worry such a well-known and wealthy author, but still...)

It does not pay to be too wordy. Finding the balance, of course, is the trick. One every writer should aspire to learn.

Formula

I'm currently having a discussion, via correspondence, with my tutor on marketing versus art.

With over a hundred thousand book titles being published every year in the States, it's difficult, if nigh impossible, to get your book noticed. If you are a well known series author, or even a becoming-known series author, readers, according to some amorphous research, will stick with the books you write, but not necessarily anything outside of that series. I'm thinking this is why authors write under numerous nom de plumes in various genres. The author is known in those fields, the publishers know those names and genre and run with it because they are successful.

Are series formula, though? We know publishers go with what's successful, not what might be better written or new or fresh. Does formula writing interfere with a writer's creativity? No, I don't think so. A writer can write to formula and still be creative. Witness the romance genre for example. We all know there's going to be a happy ending (generally speaking), but it is the story of how the hero and heroine get there that's important.

Every genre has a type of formula, it is simply a matter of how we, as authors, apply that formula to our own creativeness.

Individual style and content is at issue though. I've yet to make a decision on whether I would, for example, change the ending of a book simply because the publishers found the nationality of the villian to be unacceptable (as one Australian author was asked to do). And if, perchance, a series of books I'd written were so successful, would I want to continue writing that series until I'm dead and buried? I think I'd go the way of many authors and find a pen name to write in a different genre, but still maintain the series.

I think, when it comes to marketing versus art, the marketing machines have misunderstood what's going on out there in readerland. With the advent of weblogs and pages, authors can spread their words further and further afield, network with other authors and readers, promote their work in their own words for less that the marketing budget. It's an effective way to become well known. Diana Gabaldon started her career from a writers group. And like a pebble tossed into a pool of still water, the ripples of her career have expanded to encompass a very successful writing career. Art has triumphed over marketing. The publishing houses have just made it more difficult to succeed when the push particular books, trying to decide what you should and should not be reading.

I think art will continue to succeed as long as authors are willing to work for their talent and readers are willing to read what's been written. It's basically a grass roots process, and nothing works as well as a well fed grapevine.

Australia Day

Today is our national day of celebration. It's a day of barbeques, of fireworks, of the beach, sand, surf, of parties and strangers calling out 'g'day, mate'. It's a day when most of the population sigh and think 'damn, I'm glad I'm Australian'.

Every country thinks theirs is special. I'm no different. To me, Australia is special. I've travelled, so don't think I'm being parochial. I even tried to live in England, my mother's birth country. I couldn't do it. Not because it was cold and damp during winter and mild in summer. I loved the scent of the sweet grass in spring, the dying leaves in autumn, the snow in winter. I loved the... Britishness; the ancient monuments, cobblestone streets, the fluffy, white clouds and long evenings. I even enjoyed the harsh northern winters of chilled rain and sharp wind, the cold winter sun, the red-cheeked, pale people huddled in thick coats; it was all wonderful.

I've been to America - twice, and plan another trip. I enjoyed their openess and willingness to help a stranger, the spectacular Rocky Mountains, Grand Canyon, Puget Sound, Arches National Park, the snow swept grasslands of North Dakota, the sulky heat of New Orleans, the wooded hills of Tennessee. I was intrigued by the class and racial divisions that are denied, the diversity of accents; I listened with interest to the tales and stories of ordinary Americans. I was in San Francisco for the devastating fires - yeah, some time ago now, but I remember the familiarity.

I've been to Thailand, to Fiji, Denmark, Canada, Ireland... and nowhere felt more like home than... Australia.

Because this is where I was brought up? Probably. But this country was built by those who came from other countries. How hard was it for them to give up their nationalities to create this new country? How difficult to leave behind everything they'd ever known, friends, family, lifestyle to come here?

There are alot of attractive things about Australia: the weather, the people, the sheer openness and diversity of our landscape.

We welcome thousands every year who come from everywhere to settle. We're proud to be Australian no matter where you came from, we believe in the ethic of a fair go and we believe in mateship.

It probably comes from our convict origins, but we pull together during times of adversity. This country is not an easy one to live in. We are a land of drought, of floods and bushfires, of surf and sand, of snow and mountains and deserts and rainforests. Some of our best people were born elsewhere, but call Australia home. And some of our best people were born here and succeed overseas.

It doesn't matter where you were born, we are proud to call you ours. And on this Australia Day, it is our multiculturalism that is celebrated with such style.

Trees

I'm the family genealogist and I actually like to hunt down ancestors. I haven't found too many - 365 - which is pitiful compared to some hunters out there with thousands in their trees. Of course, I don't have direct access to records in Utah, England, Ireland or Denmark so I have to do it the hard way and search databases.

Not that it isn't fun checking out other people's trees for matches. I found four more for the tree in my grandparents generation from an unexpected source - and they weren't even related.

I think it's important to know where we came from, or rather, who we came from; it's the generations that went before us who make up who we are now. I haven't found anyone famous yet, but you never know.

I did find this. Amazing, really, that so many people could be descended from one man. And yet, it was atypical of families to have as many children as possible to ensure the next generation. I've found in my own tree that the child mortality rate was high; even as late as my grandfather's generation. He had four siblings who died in childhood before he was born.

There are plenty of sites out there in cyber-space that help in the search for past generations, and I've found that it's intriguing to think about what kind of a life they led, who they were related to, where they travelled to and from.

It's the kind of hobby that can be addictive. In fact, I think I'll just go and see if I can hunt down some more relatives...

A public thanks

To one of my favourite authors, S.L. Viehl, or Lynn Viehl, or Jessica Hall, or Gena Hale - she has so many pseudonyms is a wonder she's not suffering from multiple personalities. Oh, she's also Rebecca Kelly (I think) but I don't read those books.

Over at Paperback Writer, S.L.'s weblog, she had a competition for her latest sci-fi book. Rather than select the winners from all the entries, she chose to give every entrant a copy; signed, too. It shows a remarkable generosity of spirit - which she'd deny - and a wonderful dichotomy of personality even when threatening to delete her weblog and to be rid of us all. She is a private person willing to share - her stories, both real and imagined - her time - though she has precious little of it - and her craft - of which she is becoming a master.

So thank you, S.L. Viehl, from me, all the way across the other side of the world.

Advice for Writers

I don't know where this originated from, but it tickles me. Just FYI, it's tongue-in-cheek, but you'll get the idea of language use.

Verbs has to agree with their subjects;
Don't use no double negatives;
A preposition is something you should never end a sentence with. (Or as Sir Winston Churchill once said: This is the type of nonsense up with I shall not put!) Actually, this is true. He said it at a dinner party;
About sentence fragments;
When one is writing, it is important to maintain your point of view;
Don't say the same thing more than once. It's redundant and repetitious;
This sentence no verb;
Perform a functional iterative analysis on your work to root out third generation transitional buzz words;
Beware of malapropisms. They are a communist submersive plot;
Join clauses good like a conjunction should;
Avoid the use of dyed-in-the-wool cliches.

I can't help but snicker at some of these, but they are a good illustration of what to watch for when writing.

It's 'its'...

I read. A lot; weblogs, books, newspapers, articles, short stories. I also write critiques for people. As an editor/writer, whatever, I don't just read for enjoyment, but for errors and there are a few out there that are creeping into everyday texts.

Some are easy to see, others not so easy. A few examples that I see more and more:

Its or it's. This one is remarkably simple. It's is a contraction of 'it is'. 'Its' is a possessive noun. To remember where and when to use it, think of this: 'It's 'its' except when it's it's'. (It is 'its' except when it is 'it is'.)

Than or then. This is one of my bugbears. I don't get the confusion of use. Rather than, not rather then. 'Then' is time oriented, 'than' is an alternative. Everything blurred, then steadied. Or: His chuckle came out more hiss than laugh.

Effect or affect. Effect is usually used as a noun, it means a result of an event; affect is a verb. A bee sting will affect you; the effect of a bee sting may be pain.

These three common mistakes can ruin a perfectly good story. Worse, it can teach bad habits to readers. Writers have many technical books, none more important than a good grammar and style book. If in doubt, look it up. The English language is complicated enough without bringing errors into it. Yes, it's constantly evolving, it's that kind of language, but being lazy is no excuse. Although... are we becoming so lackadaisical that it's beginning not to matter as long as the sense of what we're trying to say is understood?

Read... Write

I've put a list of what I'm reading/read/will read on the sidebar. I've done this for a number of reasons. First, to keep track of what tempts me throughout a year; second, some of them are by my favourite authors; third, some of these writers lift my ambition to write better; and fourth, to write effectively an author has to read.

I think it was the great Nora Roberts who suggested that reading be considered research - up until I read that, I consider reading a guilty pleasure that took me away from writing. Now, it's research. Of course, like anything else, you have to know when to stop. I have a lot of bookcases filled with novels I'll re-read, if only to give me that lift and think 'wow, I wish I could write like that', followed by 'hmmm, that gives me an idea'.

It's a question that authors get all the time: "Where do you get your ideas from?" The simple answer is 'everywhere: books, half heard conversations, odd events, world politics, newspapers, dreams, even a line from a song.' From the last, I wrote a Nano of nigh on 150,000 words.

Every writer finds their own way, either on their own or helped by others. It's what makes sites like Forward Motion so important. Weblogging is also important. Blogs make recommendations and those who read the blogs are immediately tempted by what their favourite author is reading.

To aspire to write like a particular author is flattering, I think, and every writer has their own style. For most authors, their style is a blend of who they read as a youngster and their own voice to create something new.

The more we writers can encourage people to read, the bigger the audience. It might be stating the bleedin' obvious, but it cannot be overstated. Witness JK Rowling, Steven King, John Grisham and other luminaries. I would also add another comment, and that is that reading increases your vocabulary and teaches you about something you might not have otherwise investigated.

I love being a writer; it's not a job, nor is it work, for to say as much is to suggest it's less than satisfying. And that would be wrong. I love the worlds others create for me, the characters, the problems and the solutions. Some are well written, some are not, but they are all entertaining in some way. Better yet, I like to think I fall somewhere in between, and one day, I'll share my worlds, the characters, the problems and solutions with a broader audience.

Maybe that will be my year's goal: to post exerpts; it's time.

Grammuh

I've been working on a proofreading and editing exercise, number ten of twelve, so I'll be done with it soon and have another few letters to stick on the end of my name. I don't look for qualifications, I look for courses that interest and will help me.

A lot of people will remember the days of doing grammar at school with a groan or two; what verbs are, what nouns are, pronouns, adjectives, adverbs, whether you've got a dangling participle or, gods forbid, you've split an infinitive or used a double superlative. Heaven help you if you've got an oxymoron.

For most people, English comes naturally, but for others with a learning disorder, it can be a nightmare. (I don't include people for whom English is a second language, I'm talking about people born to the language.)

I was recently contacted by someone I went to high school with. His writing skills are atrocious. It took me some time to decipher what he was saying and while I was pissed at having to do so, it also occured to me that he was probably dyslexic. I have no memory of this fellow, I doubt I was in any of his classes; but he remembered me, or perhaps, he thinks he does: just recognises the name. He was in, what was called then, a 'special learning' class. We all read that to mean the real dumbasses. I doubt I had any thought of whether they had learning difficulties, I was simply smug in my advanced knowledge base.

Once, I would have written back, correcting all the mistakes in his e-mail - how arrogant would that have been? How cruel? Thankfully, that kind of attitude has slipped away; it began to fade when I gave up being a full time journalist, when I was focused on the absolute correctness of my work. I'm more relaxed these days, more willing to allow for style and expression. I still get pissy at bad grammar and spelling, for the latter, there's no real excuse - if in doubt, look in the dictionary. Yeah, I still have an echo of that stick up my butt. And it is a hot button with me.

To be able to communicate effectively in this world, speaking and writing your chosen language is paramount, otherwise, misunderstandings and confusion arise.

As writers, we have a responsibility to express ourselves in clear, concise language. For my school colleague, I can't imagine the difficulties he has with getting his point across unless it's verbal.

The good news is that learning proper English can be a simple as absorbing it. The more books, articles, or whatever read, the better a reader becomes at writing. By listening to the news, to audio books, to speech patterns, people can absorb what sounds right and what doesn't, can learn to differentiate between good language skills and bad, can know what is a colloquialism and what is pure English; and since the English language constantly evolves, can create new ways to say old things. What remains, however, is grammar. Ever and always. Those classes weren't so bad after all.

Now, I have to go and hunt up the onomatopoeia in my assignment and explain the appropriateness of them.

The work environment

The challenge, on various writer's weblogs I read, has been to show off work spaces. Some are pristine, some are... not; some are very spare and others are simply a comfortable place to sit with the laptop on the knees.

I don't have a digital camera (it's also not on my list of things to buy), and no photo of my own workspace. My desk is an antique and just fits everything; I'm surrounded by bookcases, cd racks and software boxes and with the stereo speakers above and to either side of my desk. I have two filing cabinets as well on either side of the desk. It's actually quite crowded, but comfortable. This is going to change soon.

I actually went out looking for a hutch for my desk; something to sit over the moniter and printer, for my most used books which are currently in two rows on a coffee table. All that twisting while seated cannot be good for me. What I found was a fabulous lake-size desk. Hand built, solid wood (recycled pine), with an inlay, drawers down each side and a keyboard drawer... sigh. It's just like my Dad's, only bigger. It was on my 'one day' list, and now I can cross it off. Of course, it won't fit where my current desk is, so I'm going to have to rearrange my office somewhat.

The good thing about it is that everything I need will fit with space to spare, including my editor's board. This is a tilted board on hinges that I can raise for more comfortable reading; my sister built it for me. I don't have to bend my neck for hours on end reading a manuscript and doing markups. I can even shove the keyboard under it - a nifty space saving tool. With the new desk, the keyboard will go into it's drawer. Oh, the joy!

The only negative about the desk is that I'll have to wait until April for it to arrive. The back order list is that long.

Why did I buy a desk when I have a perfectly good one? In my defence, I can only say it was like when I went out to buy a lawn mower and came back with a microwave - it just happened. Call it Karma, fate, or simple distraction for a beautiful piece of furniture, but that sucker is mine, half price, too.

(Oh, no, I can feel a gloat coming on. Better shove that aside.)

Work environments aren't supposed to be important to writers, we need to be able to work anywhere, and that's true, to a point. The new desk won't make me writer faster, or better, but it will make me feel more comfortable, once I get past the 'mwahaha! Mine, mine, mine!' stage.

Now, all I need to do is find the right chair for it... I'll probably come back with car racks...

The Plot Thickens

Hmm... it's an interesting statement, don't you think? Mentally, it's an 'ah ha!' moment accompanied by a 'mwahaha'. That's the way the reader thinks, but what of the writer?

Plots are the essential ingredient for a book; without plot, you have nothin' but a string of words, more or less, in a particular order. It's like cake without the sugar, pancakes without the maple syrup, a car without the petrol.

Some writers are rabid plotters. They'll have reams of paper filled with plots, how they work, how they intertwine, how they begin and end, how the characters interact with them; diagrams, maps, Post-It notes strewn across the wall and monitor. In short, they create a thick plot before the real writing begins.

Other writers will have a vague idea of the plot as they begin their writing. The book will be done in it's first draft before any formal plot is set down elsewhere.

In the first instance, the plotting is the safety net for when the writer gets edgy about which direction to take the book in, a road map, if you will. In the second instance, it doesn't so much matter at first, because the writer is making it up as they go along. There is much freedom, grasshopper, in this second approach, but too much freedom can lead to confusion and indecision.

I'm not a great plotter. I find it sucks the creative juices right out of me, leaving no room for exploring what's up that off ramp, or dirt track. And yes, it's all about discipline. The 'don't look down there, stay on the highway you've built' will get you to where you're going, but when you're writing, you want adventure, to study the scenery and enjoy it.

I'm not criticising any writer who does this. I admire them for their discipline and ability to surround themselves with the comforts of all the worldbuilding, character profiles, research, and so on. I just can't do it. Tried, didn't work. For me.

My version is ass backwards: I'll write the book, then write everything else down. I'll take each scene and study it, decide whether it progresses the book or not, whether there is enough description, whether the conversations are right, whether there is action on every page. I make note of where it breaks down, why and how to fix it. Of course, I can hear people saying 'if you plotted it out to begin with, you wouldn't have this problem'. But like I said, it doesn't work for me.

Plots are not carved in stone. Plots are flexible, deleteable, moveable. Nor is there a right way to write a book, and there are plenty of authors out there who have their own way of doing things, and successfully. The point is to find your own way.

As a craft, writing is a never ending learning curve. With every book you write, you learn something new. I can tell you catagorically that without initial plotting, my writing has still improved since that first woeful effort. I know more of the technicalities, how to make dialogue flow better, how not to use 'weasel' words, have better sentence construction, worldbuilding and so on. Am I publishable yet? Maybe. Is it my aim? Well, yes. Am I bothered by not being published? No, my stress levels are high enough, thank you all the same. The important thing is that I enjoy creating people, worlds and problems that need to be solved.

Plotting, for me, comes after the book is done. I can take a thin consomme of populated worlds, and make it a rich, thick and tasty soup of heroes, villains, love, hate, tragedy, triumph, scenery, dialogue, evil plans and brilliant solutions. But... the book has to be written first.

Marathon

Forgive me, God of Web World, for I have sinned, it's been a week since my last blog...

Yeah. Who knew twelve-year-olds required so much attention? I have spent hours at the beach, at the movies, playing Mah Jong and baby sitting even smaller human relations this week, and I am... worn out. I took the aforementioned twelve-year-old back to her home, some 280 kilometres away and have returned in a fugue state. I feel like I've done a marathon. Tomorrow, my eldest sister arrives with a few hours of Hex to watch, yippee!

Monday, however, looms large and ominous. Yessiree Bob. Time to get on with the New Year's resolutions and my list of things to catch up on is crooking it's blackened, evil finger. No more screwing around. I have an assignment to finish, books to edit, books to read, books to make notes on, anime to watch, exercise to get on with and, oh... right... housework. Bleh.

Ah, well. The Yule tree has been dismantled, my work space, er, not cleaned up per se, as in sneered at stuff moved (read: piled up elsewhere).

I will confess, here and now, that I'm not really a summer writer. Summer wears me out with the hot temperatures, the warm winds and moisture sucking lack of humidity. I just don't find it fun, or conducive to writing. Autumn, winter and spring is when I get most of my work done, but I cannot afford to slack off like the past three weeks. Writing must be done. Editing must be done. Sending my work out mu..., um... I'll get to that. Eventually. Okay, this year. I promise...

The holidays are over, kids have dispersed and I'm once more on my own to do what I please. My head is overfull with story ideas and it's time to get on with it. I'm off to do just that: make notes on new works.

Last Call for 2005

Today, apparently, is the day for reflection and renewal; reflection on all that you've achieved this year and renewal for everything you hope to achieve in the coming year.

Everyone makes 'resolutions' - and I'm no different - but how many actually keep them? I know I haven't, the bathroom scales tell me so and it wouldn't lie to me (damn it!). Starting the New Year with the best of intentions is fine, however by the beginning of February, I'm thinking just about everyone has forgotten their pledge or found it too difficult, too boring, too... whatever. One good thing about New Year's Resolutions is that you can always give them up for Lent.

And speaking of which, the latest catalogue for Woolworths Fresh Food has Easter Buns! Yep, the Hot Cross Buns are out there already - although they are not branded as such. I dunno: a fruit bun in a group of six/eight with a white cross on the top says Hot Cross Bun to me. What's up with that?

But I digress. Resolutions. Should you make them? In the moment, when the fireworks are exploding in pretty colours, people are hugging or laying a big, fat juicy one on someone, they're probably spoken with a great deal of honesty and energy.

Once the hangover clears, the OMG moment arrives. Witnesses will remind you of those ill-thought words when you least want them. If you're a person who sticks to your word, you'll give it your best shot. If not, it's 'was I drunk at the time? Then it doesn't count'. Especially if you've promised to cure your fear of heights by jumping out of a perfectly good plane with a backpack hopefully stuffed with a parachute, or that you're going to be nicer to your worst enemy, or, in fact, that you're going to cure any well-used and beloved phobia.

I will probably make the same resolutions I always make, but this time, I'd better stick to them - for health reasons. I'm not a spur of the moment resolution-maker, I think about it, plan for it and then try to execute the aforementioned plan.

Maybe this time next year, I shall be a svelte non-smoker; then again, I may still be an overweight smoker lamenting the lost determination - or dead. Who the hell knows? There are plenty of buses and knuckle-headed tourists out there to run me over.

Anyway, have a safe and enjoyable New Year, and watch out for people demanding to know what your resolution/s is/are. Just smile benignly at them: it's none of their business.

Visitations and monsters

Nah, not those kinds of visitation, but the ones I inevitably forgot about that happen at this time of year: the relos. Not just Boxing Day either...

I like my peace and quiet to do things I like, not be forced into by others. Good manners, however, prevail and for the past five days they've arrived, fed, been watered, had their children chastised in a variety of ways and gone their happy way, while I have just wanted to say 'clear orf and take your loud, obnoxious children with you'.

I confess that I have a neat game to play on my computer. One I've been waiting to play for some time. The problem has been that I didn't have the hardware to do it. With the post-Christmas sales, I went out early, spied my prey and hunted that sucker down. Handy-dandy screwdriver in hand, the video accelerator went in, system rebooted, game loaded and, mwahaha! Return to Castle Wolfenstein is up and running! (I also have Doom 3, but one game at a time.)

Sure, by today's standard their old and outmoded - hell, hasn't everyone played them and lost interest? Not me. Patience has been rewarded. I'm not paying a hundred bucks for a game, so I waited until both games were on special and scooped them up.

The graphics are terrific, the movements smooth, the movie cutaways are okay - I really don't need to see perfectly rendered monsters, I can create my own nightmares - and the missions are cool. Now, I only needed to find the time between visits of small people to be able to play. The games are unsuitable for them to even watch and I don't want to explain things to them. The argument about whether computer games encourage violence is not one I'm going to get into here, it would take too long.

So. Today, the last of my bulk visitors leave, without one niece who's with me for another week - she's twelve, she understands her aunt's need to kill things - and the peace and quiet should descend once more with the occasional admonition that we go to the beach, the movies, whatever. I can handle that, as long as I get to play.

Of course, I had to stop the other night, the music was too sinister and the monsters attacked rather suddenly. Creeped me out. I like that in a game.

The aforementioned niece is getting antsy. She likes to be with me, no matter what I'm doing. It's a sunny day. I think I hear the beach and the waves calling. BJ will have to wait a little longer before gunning down those nasty creatures.

The meaning of love

Before I race off and do the final Christmas preparations, I thought I'd share this with you. It comes from Adwoff, Nora Robert's bulletin board:

What does love mean?

Touching words from the mouth of babes.

What does Love mean? A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?" The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy - age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8


"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody; You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)
Karen - age 7

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."
Mark - age 6

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8

And my personal favourite:

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7

I think everyone should take Bobby's words to heart.

Have a safe and fulfilling Christmas.

Christmas Roast

It's going to be a normal Christmas. Ick.

At this time of the morning, it's usually just warming up. Not today. Nuh uh. Today is barbeque day. At 5.30 in the am, as the sun rose, it was already 30 degrees; celsius, not fahrenheit. By 9.00 am, 35 degrees. Humidity? 18 percent.

As a child, it was great. We would dash down the beach and stay until lunch, race home and feed, then return until the sun lowered in the western sky. Some days, we'd be home earlier to watch the southerly buster come through with strong cold winds. The next day, we'd do it all over again. Yeah, the halcyon days of my youth.

Now that I'm older, it's different. It's uncomfortable, energy sapping and worrying. Three states have total fire bans and fire watches. A dozen or more bush and grassland fires are burning already, with more to come as those psychological fuck ups look to appease their desire to see flame. If they chose winter, it wouldn't be so bad, but nooo, Summer; high summer, when the grass crackles underfoot, the sky is a painfully bright blue, the sun slowly spit roasting the pale flesh of office workers taking the day off. Now they come and play with matches.

I've been through fires. Three years ago we had a conflagration of epic proportions with gale force winds pushing the fire towards us. Yeah, we're on the beach, but when the tree in the front yard starts smouldering, you know it's going to be bad. It happened at Christmas and we were without power for four days. Two years ago, I was in Canberra surrounded by fires in neighbouring suburbs. The ash reached the coast some two hundred and sixty kilometres away.

We survived both fires with no damage; others weren't so lucky.

This country is one of extremes; a country where Mother Nature is guaranteed to remind you of who is in charge every single year. From the six month fire season, to the three month gale force wind season, monsoon season, storm season, droughts, floods, she can be a total bitch. And we love it.

Call us a little odd, but this Christmas, Mother Nature is going to kick some butt.

Maybe I'll go down to the beach after all. Later today, we have a severe storm warning with damaging hail and gale force winds. Gotta batten down the hatches, but I'll enjoy MN's largesse before the hammer falls.

Ho, ho... ho... huh... ho

You'd think I'd be nice and relaxed by now. The presents were bought a couple of weeks ago, wrapped last week, menu set this week and food list ready for tomorrow's made dash. I've been muscling up for the fight - it's not shopping, it's war out there - the elbows are sharp for the bumping of those in my way, the lip curl practiced for those who demand and apology. Hah! I've got it down, I know how to do the last minute shop. I've even practiced my deep breathing. Hoo, hoo, hee, hee, for when the doors open at six am.

And yes, nag, nag, nag, I've already advised to do things early, mea culpa. My niece came to stay this week and keeping a twelve year old occupied is task better made for those who started with them, not those of us who came late and snickered at the parental struggles.

I took her to the beach, fed her junk food, played board games, let her surf the 'net unsupervised, play music way too loud, watch unsuitable DVDs and let her stay up far too late. Oh, and allowed her to consume litres of Coke. Heh.

Of course, yesterday was the funeral for Keith, so she was left in the capable hands of her grandmother - who, by the way, raised six children, including a set of twins, all under the age of nine.

For me, it was a long and heartbreaking trip. Four hours drive there, an hour's service, half an hour chatting to relatives, turn around and four hours back. sigh

My niece, it turns out, needed the break from all the 'fun'. She had a relaxing day catching up with her e-mails and chatting with her friends about what she and I got up too. (They're all jealous, but she's said for years every one should have an aunt like her Jaye - insert warm fuzzies here.)

So, back to my point. I am behind in my Christmas preperations. But not for long. I shall tackle the shopping with my usual aplomb - see above - and be totally ready for the big day.

Boxing Day is D-day. By that I mean Dooms-day. My brother, his wife and two urchins will be here, as will my twin sister and her two and my younger sister and her two. Not bad? Uh.... My brother has the patience of Job. My twin can be argumentative, and my youngest sister is passive-aggressive and her two kids are monsters. My eldest brother is safe: he'll be in Denmark with his family; My eldest sister is staying away. And me? Oh, yeah, I'll be in the sanctuary of the kitchen, cooking up a storm. The family will be so stuffed full of food, there'll be naps all around followed by the invasion of the beach and I shall put my feet up and bless my good fortune to have them all.

I don't fight at Christmas. Hell, I rarely fight at all. It's just not worth it, now or ever. I'm not interested in the internal battles of others. It passes. I'll let them have their say, should it need to be said, and again, raise solutions that will be ignored.

Every family is dysfunctional, it's only a matter of degree. It doesn't have to spoil Christmas. You don't have to rise to the bait, or defend someone, or something - like a gift that drops like a bomb.

If your Christmas is like a combat zone, do something different: don't go to family, you're an adult; you can say no. And remember, "What other people think of you is none of your business." Be yourself, be calm and be grateful for your thick-headed, misunderstood, anger-provoking, funny, warm/cold, blind, silly, obtuse, exasperating family.

Tough day

It's always tough when a loved one dies. Not passes on, or has gone to his great reward, but dies. I'm tempted to put something Pythonesque here, but it would be inappropriate.

Keith had been a great friend to the family; had, in fact, been my father's best friend since the two were in university together. My dad's been dead nearly fifteen years now, but Keith was still a part of our family. He was my eldest sister's God father.

As kids, we went around to his holiday place and had barbeques, easter egg hunts, beach parties, film nights and generally had the best time. He was always there for us. As he got older, we were there for him; painting his house, mowing his lawns, gardening, visiting for an old fashioned afternoon tea.

He'd send us post cards from exotic places and bring us trinkets and wonderous tales of his adventures. He always said that our family connection went back generations, was adamant about it, in fact, though I never found any connection in my research.

I have telephoned the rest of my family - my mother is just too upset - and we are gathering our resources to be at the funeral. And while no funeral is ever a good time, I fear that this will be the most hurtful since my father died.

I don't want to say goodbye to this wonderful man. I don't want to hear from others how wonderful he was. I want to hold the memories I have of him close and think that he is just where I always found him: sitting in his rocking chair, listening to classical music, dipping his oatmeal biscuit into his to weak and milky tea.

I want to sit next to him and listen to his stories again, to get those postcards and cheap trinkets. I don't want this hollowness, as if another significant part of me has been scoured out. I don't want this emptiness where Keith lived and breathed.

Maybe he's around and will stay to see us all, to make sure we're all right. Maybe he's with my dad, reminiscing about the old days; I'd like that, and I'll think of that. For now, though, I won't say goodbye, but I will say a blessing that his journey is safe.

Bloody Preachers!

Right. I am not Catholic, Protestant, Anglican, or any other of those Christian religions that feel an obligation to 'preach the good word' to all those 'heathens' out there, ie, anyone who is not a Christian.

Why am I so pissed off about religion today? This close to Christmas? Because I am fed up with the hypocrasy of it all. Not just the consumerism, but the rhetoric, the deciding what is and is not acceptable to the Christian faith.

For example: the Harry Potter books and movies were branded as evil because of the use of witchcraft; The Chronicles of Narnia are being hailed as a parable of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is right! What gave the church the right to decide which kids book was the more acceptable? Oh, wait. I remember: these are officials in a patriarchal organisation who's personal agenda sets how every Christian should live their life.

Right then. Bitching over; facts time. Questions: What was Jesus doing with the loaves, fishes and water if not magic? Why was it okay for him to do magic and not pagans who had been doing for centuries? If Jesus had been a woman, would it have been more acceptable? Why do people accept the personal interpretation of another's words as gospel?

CS Lewis was not an overly religious man, and his stepson has come out and said the series is not the parable religious groups are claiming it to be.

It hasn't been released here yet, but I understand from other sites that the movie, while spectacular in its' special effects, takes on a preaching tone that is hard to swallow and has proven to be a disappointment to those who loved the books as a child.

I can't tell you how sad that is, nor how angry the religious zealots make me in their pontificating. The movie will be a hit regardless of who says what, if only for the special effects. But. It is a movie. For kids.

Let them enjoy it without the need to preach or convert or comment on the alleged religious aspects.

Seven Memes

At Holly Lisle's Pocket Full of Words, she has written of things 'seven'. I figured I would list my seven, so here goes:

Seven things to do before I die
1. Visit New England in the Fall and run around in the colourful leaves;
2. Publish a book and see it sitting on a shelf, any shelf;
3. Camp at Uluru and watch the sun rise;
4. Learn to snow/water ski;
5. Teach English to the young, since too many kids don't know how to communicate propertly;
6. Fall in love and be loved in return - self-explanatory.
7. Drive a Ferrari/Porsche/Aston Martin...

Seven things I cannot do
1. Maths - sheesh, and my dad was Maths teacher;
2. Explain how/why I know things - or how I reach particular conclusions;
3. Completely grow up - I love my comic and kids movies collections;
4. Paint - although two of my siblings can;
5. Surf - too fearful of the sea creatures with sharp pointy teeth.
6. Understand racial/religious violence;
7. Keep my dog with me forever, she's fifteen and I've had her since she was a puppy.

Seven things that attract me to my significant other
Don't have one, so I can't answer this.

Seven things I say most often
1. Can I help you?
2. Doood/Dooodette
3. Who's a treasure?
4. No.
5. Blossom/Petal
6. Good morning/afternoon.
7. Mwahaha!

Seven books (or serials) I love
1. Anita Blake/Merry Gentry series - Laurell K. Hamilton
2. Honor Harrington series - David Weber
3. Stardoc Series - S.L. Viehl
4. Valour's Choice - Tanya Huff
5. Sympathy for the Devil/Minerva Wakes - Holly Lisle
6. Donovan Trilogy - Nora Roberts
7. Path of the Fury/The Apocalypse Troll - David Weber

Seven movies I watch over and over again
1. Lord of the Rings Trilogy;
2. Appleseed;
3. Pitch Black/Chronicles of Riddick;
4. Starship Troopers;
5. Shrek 1 & 2;
6. Aliens;
7. The Incredibles

There are more books and movies that I re-read/see over again, but I don't think I'd be able to limit my answers to even ten. Why not have a go yourself? It certainly takes careful thought.