Now that I'm back and with reliable internet access, I thought I'd drop in some posts of my trip. Photographs might be added, too. So, the first entry of the journal I wrote:
Vordingborg, Denmark: The day before we all headed off, the in-laws dragged us off into Copenhagen. The last time I was here – for their wedding – I didn't get to see much. The in-law was determined this visit would be different. And it was. We took a tourist boat ride around the city. I took photo after photo after photo. That's the problem with digital cameras these days – you don't have to stop and consider if that shot is a waste of film. It was an entertaining day that ended with beers all round and a couple o' bottles of red. The next morning was another gorgeous if cool day. I didn't think we'd all fit into the Citroen with luggage, but we did. And so, car stuffed to the rafters, my sister, her husband, two kids and me took off for the ferry from Denmark to Germany. All went remarkable well. We thought we'd missed the 7.00 am boat, that the boarding closed a scant ten minutes before we turned up. But a few minutes later we were guided on board. Woo hoo! Duty free! The ferry crossed on smooth, glass-like water, though the distant smudge of beige on the horizon reminded me of just how populated Europe is.
Germany: We drove straight off the boat and eventually found the autobahn. S., niece number one got on with her French homework, but little A, niece number two, at seven is a handful. Fortunately, the car had a sunroof and we watched the contrails of planes criss-cross the sky; it's scary how close they fly and how many are up there zipping around. I'm sure it's all a matter of perspective. Germany is beautiful – but I didn't expect anything else. Rolling hills, farmland, verdant forests, BMWs speeding by doing 200kph only to be overtaken by Mercedes...
Holland: It's tough being in a car with people. I spent some time chatting to my brother-in-law about what I hoped to find out about the family tree in London, Lincoln, Burnley and Ireland. What my research has so far found kept the kids occupied for some time and kids ask questions. Outside, the fields were yellow or green with new crops. Flat land and dykes for irrigation. Flying over it is magical; driving through it, not so much.
Belgium/Ghent: finally, our day's destination, Ghent. A medieval city with cobblestone streets, a magnificent castle and canals. Only one significant problem: all the one way signs. I'm guessing they don't want casual tourists, otherwise they wouldn't make it so difficult to get around. But once there, oh, boy, it's definitely worth it. I have to say the cobblestones are wicked on the feet. We only stayed overnight, on the second floor of the Ghent youth hostel, but I spent a lot of time taking, oh, a few photographs. Worse thing was I couldn't get my cash card to work! Bummer... I had to rely on the money I already had in my wallet. My sister kept casting worried glances at me, and no wonder...
Tomorrow, I'll post more; and I have to continue the story over at the other blog, and a ton of other stuff I have to catch up on.
That's the thing about travelling, you feel a little out of touch when you return because stuff has happened in your absence. Old news, is new news to you, but... I'm slowly catching up.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Crash landed
Yeah, I'm back, but my faculties are still trying to organise themselves.
And... since we have visitors who arrived a few hours before I did, and who have made themselves comfortable for the next few days, blogging will be a quick luxury. I'll just have to resist the jet lag. I'm expecting the crash, but can't afford it with peeps in de house.
I kept a journal while I was away, so I'll be posting what I was up to as I wandered around the countryside, occasionally geographically embarrassed (ie, lost). Now, I have to stop yawning. A nap would ruin me.
And... since we have visitors who arrived a few hours before I did, and who have made themselves comfortable for the next few days, blogging will be a quick luxury. I'll just have to resist the jet lag. I'm expecting the crash, but can't afford it with peeps in de house.
I kept a journal while I was away, so I'll be posting what I was up to as I wandered around the countryside, occasionally geographically embarrassed (ie, lost). Now, I have to stop yawning. A nap would ruin me.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Away from Korea
As the plane took off, the map came up and showed us heading toward Pyongyang. I figured I'd get my first and only look at North Korea. No such luck. The plane lifted and surged to the left, away from the Peninsula. Still, I had my forehead pressed to the window to look; shame everything was soon obscured by smog.
The flight attendants came around with orange juice, then an hour later, lunch. Gee, rice. It wasn't until after lunch that ominous gurgling began. Yeah, spicy food redux. And that's all I'm saying!
During the afternoon, we were asked if we wanted a snack. The green triangle thing looked nice. Oh... boy... a triangle of rice with a smear of something that smelled like tuna gizzards, all wrapped in seaweed. Good thing I had more orange juice. The Kimichi Origiri tasted fine with a gulp of juice, but the smell...
Okay, I have to say flying over Russia was a real buzz. The landscape from 30,000 feet is breathtaking. We skirted around Ulaan Bataar, Mongolia, over the Southern Syberian Plains and the Ural Mountains. The Earth shows off her colours in spectacular fashion when you're high in the sky staring down. It has an element of alienness that sparked some interesting world building ideas.
And still there's that wretched gurgling...
We flew over Copenhagen at two in the afternoon and landed at Amsterdam. Of course, I had to go from one end of the terminal to the other to catch the flight back to Copenhagen. Finally landed at seven in the evening, the sun in full glory. For me, it was 2 am Korean time.
Family reunions take time so I didn't actually get to bed until after ten at night. The last time I did an allnighter, I had a short story to write for the next morning's class at University. I had a real case of the staggers, like I was drunk without the benefit of the alcohol.
May in Denmark is stunning and so green. I took myself off for a walk down to the sea via a lovely forest. We got bush in Australia; Europe has forests. The scents, the sound of the birds, the light coming through verdant foliage, all so different and relaxing.
And it was a good thing I felt all loose and easygoing, for that night and last night, we had important parties - the main reason for this trip - and food to eat and... well, you know the rest. Tonight is leftover night and tomorrow? We shop! Um... if I can remember what currency I'm supposed to use. So far I've spent Aussie dollars, American dollars, Korean Won and Euros. Next up are Kroner. Guess I have to remember to keep it all separate.
The flight attendants came around with orange juice, then an hour later, lunch. Gee, rice. It wasn't until after lunch that ominous gurgling began. Yeah, spicy food redux. And that's all I'm saying!
During the afternoon, we were asked if we wanted a snack. The green triangle thing looked nice. Oh... boy... a triangle of rice with a smear of something that smelled like tuna gizzards, all wrapped in seaweed. Good thing I had more orange juice. The Kimichi Origiri tasted fine with a gulp of juice, but the smell...
Okay, I have to say flying over Russia was a real buzz. The landscape from 30,000 feet is breathtaking. We skirted around Ulaan Bataar, Mongolia, over the Southern Syberian Plains and the Ural Mountains. The Earth shows off her colours in spectacular fashion when you're high in the sky staring down. It has an element of alienness that sparked some interesting world building ideas.
And still there's that wretched gurgling...
We flew over Copenhagen at two in the afternoon and landed at Amsterdam. Of course, I had to go from one end of the terminal to the other to catch the flight back to Copenhagen. Finally landed at seven in the evening, the sun in full glory. For me, it was 2 am Korean time.
Family reunions take time so I didn't actually get to bed until after ten at night. The last time I did an allnighter, I had a short story to write for the next morning's class at University. I had a real case of the staggers, like I was drunk without the benefit of the alcohol.
May in Denmark is stunning and so green. I took myself off for a walk down to the sea via a lovely forest. We got bush in Australia; Europe has forests. The scents, the sound of the birds, the light coming through verdant foliage, all so different and relaxing.
And it was a good thing I felt all loose and easygoing, for that night and last night, we had important parties - the main reason for this trip - and food to eat and... well, you know the rest. Tonight is leftover night and tomorrow? We shop! Um... if I can remember what currency I'm supposed to use. So far I've spent Aussie dollars, American dollars, Korean Won and Euros. Next up are Kroner. Guess I have to remember to keep it all separate.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Korea
Here I am, in Denmark. Vordingborg, actually.
The trip over was long and arduous but interesting too. I love that you can look down on the world and marvel at it's beauty. Flying over Queensland, with it's lush forests, then Papua New Guinea - a pause to watch Juno - then cloud for the rest of the way to Korea.
I arrived at Incheon and caught a taxi into Seoul. Such a caring, attentive taxi driver who skinned me for $80 US dollars for the trip. Seoul is a city of bridges. Big bridges. Red bridges, ornate bridges... Everywhere over the river Han. And apartment blocks. Twenty, twenty-five story apartment blocks. The only house I saw was on the outskirts of the city next to rice paddies. Just the one.
Of course, the camera was in the luggage, in the back of the car, which was a shame because the sunset was glorious. We don't get that slow sinking of a red ball through a misty haze in the land of Oz. There, it's one minute the sun is up, then bam, it's gone and it's night.
The hotel wasn't as close to the markets as I'd wished, but that was okay, I was tired after the nine/ten hour flight. I figured I'd just head out, get something to eat and hit the sack for some sleep. (I can't sleep on planes if there's someone sitting next me.)
Typical of me, I like to wander the streets - yes, in a foreign city, on my lonesome, where I don't know the language. None of the eateries appealed to me, so I headed across the busy street to Pizza Hut. Surely I couldn't go wrong there. Ha, ha. The concierge didn't speak English and it was about this time that I realized I was the only Westerner. And I mean from the moment I got into the taxi at the airport, I saw no other Westerners. Anyway, after much finger pointing at the pictures in the menu, he nodded and spoke into a microphone. He pointed to an empty bench seat and signaled 10, as in minutes.
The familiar little box came with a red ribbon wrapped around it. I thought it sweet and gave him a smile. He bobbed his head and turned his attention to his Korean customers.
One thing I should have known: Koreans love their spices. I ate three-quarters of the beef risotto before I decided it was enough. Another thing I should have remembered: do not eat spicy food the night before a long, long flight.
The next day....
Up bright and early. By six-thirty, I repacked everything, hoisted the backpack (next time I travel, I'm getting wheels on my luggage), picked up the other two baggies and hiked down the block to the bus station. No getting skinned this time. The bus trip cost me $13 US dollars. Toldja I got skinned.
Back at the airport, I want my breakfast. And coffee. I really, really need coffee. All my bags are on a trolley and I wander around looking for food. I found a restaurant and figured I'd have the number 2. Behind me, to my left is the first Westerner I've seen since arriving. He's probably in his twenties, though I don't know his nationality. We share a sympathetic smile with each other.
"Number two, please." I found it helps to keep any talk to a bare minimum. The cashier gives me a receipt and I start to push my trolley towards a table.
"No! No!" The cashier dashes out from behind her counter, grabs my trolley and pushes it just outside the restaurant. She grabs a fishing net and tosses it over my luggage, gives me a chastising glance.
Not sure what to do now, I head towards a Korean woman who looks like she knows what she's about.
"I have this." I offer her the receipt. She points above her head to the digital display. It reads '16', my ticket is '18'. As I return to my seat, she says something to one of the chefs and giggles.
I really want coffee, but I wait for my food and set that on the table before I return to the woman. "Coffee?" I ask with a quiet desperation. She points behind me to the coffee machine at the other end of the cafe. I've taken five steps before she makes a remark to the chef... and giggles.
Back in my seat, I look at the tray: one small bowl with a yellow fruit, one small bowl with carrots, green stuff and CHILLI seeds, one small bowl with... um... a white vegetable and spices, one large bowl with vegetables artfully arranged, one covered silver bowl with rice, one bowl with a clear broth and green vegetables floating in it and one small container of dark red sauce.
Yep, looks interesting and the yellow fruit was tasty. I'm not a fan of mushrooms so I set aside what looked like mushrooms with my chop sticks. I'm having a fine time picking out individual items when of a sudden...
"No! No!" The woman rushes up to me, gives me a gimlet eye and picks up the spoon. She pours the red sauce onto the vegetables, then dumps the rice on top and stirs the whole lot together. To the left of me are a number of Koreans, watching. The woman pauses and I smile at her. She slightly returns the smile before looking over my shoulder in horror.
"No! No!" And dashes off to the young man behind me with his own breakfast to repeat the mixing. I had to suppress the impending chuckles, after all, she took this breakfast thing, real serious. Personally, all I wanted was Vegemite on toast, or some marmalade on toast, bit of porridge maybe?
While my visit to Korea didn't go as planned or expected, travel is what you make of it - the good and the bad all make for adventure, always keep your sense of humour. And it was a thought I hung onto on the flight towards Europe. For good reason...
The trip over was long and arduous but interesting too. I love that you can look down on the world and marvel at it's beauty. Flying over Queensland, with it's lush forests, then Papua New Guinea - a pause to watch Juno - then cloud for the rest of the way to Korea.
I arrived at Incheon and caught a taxi into Seoul. Such a caring, attentive taxi driver who skinned me for $80 US dollars for the trip. Seoul is a city of bridges. Big bridges. Red bridges, ornate bridges... Everywhere over the river Han. And apartment blocks. Twenty, twenty-five story apartment blocks. The only house I saw was on the outskirts of the city next to rice paddies. Just the one.
Of course, the camera was in the luggage, in the back of the car, which was a shame because the sunset was glorious. We don't get that slow sinking of a red ball through a misty haze in the land of Oz. There, it's one minute the sun is up, then bam, it's gone and it's night.
The hotel wasn't as close to the markets as I'd wished, but that was okay, I was tired after the nine/ten hour flight. I figured I'd just head out, get something to eat and hit the sack for some sleep. (I can't sleep on planes if there's someone sitting next me.)
Typical of me, I like to wander the streets - yes, in a foreign city, on my lonesome, where I don't know the language. None of the eateries appealed to me, so I headed across the busy street to Pizza Hut. Surely I couldn't go wrong there. Ha, ha. The concierge didn't speak English and it was about this time that I realized I was the only Westerner. And I mean from the moment I got into the taxi at the airport, I saw no other Westerners. Anyway, after much finger pointing at the pictures in the menu, he nodded and spoke into a microphone. He pointed to an empty bench seat and signaled 10, as in minutes.
The familiar little box came with a red ribbon wrapped around it. I thought it sweet and gave him a smile. He bobbed his head and turned his attention to his Korean customers.
One thing I should have known: Koreans love their spices. I ate three-quarters of the beef risotto before I decided it was enough. Another thing I should have remembered: do not eat spicy food the night before a long, long flight.
The next day....
Up bright and early. By six-thirty, I repacked everything, hoisted the backpack (next time I travel, I'm getting wheels on my luggage), picked up the other two baggies and hiked down the block to the bus station. No getting skinned this time. The bus trip cost me $13 US dollars. Toldja I got skinned.
Back at the airport, I want my breakfast. And coffee. I really, really need coffee. All my bags are on a trolley and I wander around looking for food. I found a restaurant and figured I'd have the number 2. Behind me, to my left is the first Westerner I've seen since arriving. He's probably in his twenties, though I don't know his nationality. We share a sympathetic smile with each other.
"Number two, please." I found it helps to keep any talk to a bare minimum. The cashier gives me a receipt and I start to push my trolley towards a table.
"No! No!" The cashier dashes out from behind her counter, grabs my trolley and pushes it just outside the restaurant. She grabs a fishing net and tosses it over my luggage, gives me a chastising glance.
Not sure what to do now, I head towards a Korean woman who looks like she knows what she's about.
"I have this." I offer her the receipt. She points above her head to the digital display. It reads '16', my ticket is '18'. As I return to my seat, she says something to one of the chefs and giggles.
I really want coffee, but I wait for my food and set that on the table before I return to the woman. "Coffee?" I ask with a quiet desperation. She points behind me to the coffee machine at the other end of the cafe. I've taken five steps before she makes a remark to the chef... and giggles.
Back in my seat, I look at the tray: one small bowl with a yellow fruit, one small bowl with carrots, green stuff and CHILLI seeds, one small bowl with... um... a white vegetable and spices, one large bowl with vegetables artfully arranged, one covered silver bowl with rice, one bowl with a clear broth and green vegetables floating in it and one small container of dark red sauce.
Yep, looks interesting and the yellow fruit was tasty. I'm not a fan of mushrooms so I set aside what looked like mushrooms with my chop sticks. I'm having a fine time picking out individual items when of a sudden...
"No! No!" The woman rushes up to me, gives me a gimlet eye and picks up the spoon. She pours the red sauce onto the vegetables, then dumps the rice on top and stirs the whole lot together. To the left of me are a number of Koreans, watching. The woman pauses and I smile at her. She slightly returns the smile before looking over my shoulder in horror.
"No! No!" And dashes off to the young man behind me with his own breakfast to repeat the mixing. I had to suppress the impending chuckles, after all, she took this breakfast thing, real serious. Personally, all I wanted was Vegemite on toast, or some marmalade on toast, bit of porridge maybe?
While my visit to Korea didn't go as planned or expected, travel is what you make of it - the good and the bad all make for adventure, always keep your sense of humour. And it was a thought I hung onto on the flight towards Europe. For good reason...
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Mr Squishy
I thought I could fit everything into two bags: one 80Ltr backpack and 'school' backpack. Nup. I had to add another day pack stuffed with... well, stuff.
Half of the big pack is filled with pressos for the rellos; guest gifts, confirmation gifts and birthday gifts. But, I'm not complaining. Once they're offloaded, I'll have that much more space for buying stuff to bring back.
All up, the luggage weighs in at 30 kilos. I'm rather pleased about that. When I came back from a year in England, the luggage I carried down the street from the Youth Hostel, onto the bus and into the airport terminal was a massive 70 kilos!
If you asked me what weighed so much, I couldn't tell you. Of course, I'm older now and while I can still carry that much weight, I'm wise enough not to. Thirty kilos is fine, thank you.
So, everything is squished in. Sadly, I had to dump the two Kylie Chans I wanted to read; not for weight, but space. The books are just too damned big. Which kind of begs the question: how am I going to fit the books in I intend to buy at the Galaxy in Sydney? F'Ino, is my answer. There is the possibility - though I don't want to entertain it - that I'll have to forgo the Galaxy until I return.
The two books I am taking are: Jennifer Rardin's Biting the Bullet and Lilith Saintcrow's The Devil's Right Hand. I'm hoping the in-flight movies will be good, because I don't see these two books lasting the 25 hours it's gonna take to get to Copenhagen.
So. I didn't have time to write after all, but I'm planning on blogging while I'm away. I'll probably write a travelogue with photos when I return.
Wish me luck.
Half of the big pack is filled with pressos for the rellos; guest gifts, confirmation gifts and birthday gifts. But, I'm not complaining. Once they're offloaded, I'll have that much more space for buying stuff to bring back.
All up, the luggage weighs in at 30 kilos. I'm rather pleased about that. When I came back from a year in England, the luggage I carried down the street from the Youth Hostel, onto the bus and into the airport terminal was a massive 70 kilos!
If you asked me what weighed so much, I couldn't tell you. Of course, I'm older now and while I can still carry that much weight, I'm wise enough not to. Thirty kilos is fine, thank you.
So, everything is squished in. Sadly, I had to dump the two Kylie Chans I wanted to read; not for weight, but space. The books are just too damned big. Which kind of begs the question: how am I going to fit the books in I intend to buy at the Galaxy in Sydney? F'Ino, is my answer. There is the possibility - though I don't want to entertain it - that I'll have to forgo the Galaxy until I return.
The two books I am taking are: Jennifer Rardin's Biting the Bullet and Lilith Saintcrow's The Devil's Right Hand. I'm hoping the in-flight movies will be good, because I don't see these two books lasting the 25 hours it's gonna take to get to Copenhagen.
So. I didn't have time to write after all, but I'm planning on blogging while I'm away. I'll probably write a travelogue with photos when I return.
Wish me luck.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Three more sleeps until I'm off and I'm driving myself crazy!
There's always something minor I have to do that turns into a major drama. I think it's because I'll be what's called 'an independent' traveller; ie, I'm on my own and I have to get it right.
And I'm disgusted with myself. I've not written a word of fiction, nor read a word of fiction in... okay, a week for writing, but weeks for reading. My mind has convinced me that I'll have plenty of time on the plane - Australia is a long way from everywhere. I'm even suspicious of people who've said 'have a great time'. Someone needs to slap me really hard, I think.
Hell, I'm more organized than the last time I went OT (Over There). I've laid everything out, adding stuff, removing extra, balancing luggage, checking documents, organising the dog and the aged parent. And yet, the anxiety levels are up to the disturbed sleep levels.
Like I said: someone needs to slap me. It will be fun, dammit!
I think I'll go back to obsessing: if I remember my toothbrush, I've forgotten something else; and if I've forgotten my toothbrush, then that's what I've forgotten.
There's always something minor I have to do that turns into a major drama. I think it's because I'll be what's called 'an independent' traveller; ie, I'm on my own and I have to get it right.
And I'm disgusted with myself. I've not written a word of fiction, nor read a word of fiction in... okay, a week for writing, but weeks for reading. My mind has convinced me that I'll have plenty of time on the plane - Australia is a long way from everywhere. I'm even suspicious of people who've said 'have a great time'. Someone needs to slap me really hard, I think.
Hell, I'm more organized than the last time I went OT (Over There). I've laid everything out, adding stuff, removing extra, balancing luggage, checking documents, organising the dog and the aged parent. And yet, the anxiety levels are up to the disturbed sleep levels.
Like I said: someone needs to slap me. It will be fun, dammit!
I think I'll go back to obsessing: if I remember my toothbrush, I've forgotten something else; and if I've forgotten my toothbrush, then that's what I've forgotten.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Aussie Spirit
Today commemorates all those Australians who fell during the conflicts this world has seen.
It is: ANZAC Day, born out of the landing of Aussie soldiers on the inhospitable shores of Gallipoli on this day, 1914.
Once, young people saw it as a day off school, as a day where old people marched down the street wearing shiney medals and holding flags designating their armed forces unit, as a day when those marchers went to the pub, played two-up (illegal except for this one day), shed a tear or two in remembrance and got absolutely trashed.
But a new generation of Australians are determined to remember those fallen. Today, tens of thousands of Aussies - young and old - travel to those distant shores to remember and pay homage to the courage and indomitable spirit of the young men who fought and died there.
For the first time in ninety years, a similar memorial service is being held at Villiers-Bretonneaux in France. Here, Australian troops turned back the advance of German soldiers. Every year since, the French have held a memorial service, and yet this year is the first, official commemoration ceremony by Australia.
I now have a personal interest in World War I. I always knew my grandfather fought in Europe, but it was a vague kind of thought. Having researched the tree, his courage and determination is ever more real. He was one of two surviving brothers - four brothers and three sisters having died in early childhood - and his parents must have been alternatively proud and scared silly at his enlistment.
On my mother's side, her father and six of his brothers returned wounded; my grandfather, without a leg at the age of 19.
In two weeks, I'll be searching the WWI memorials for two names: a great uncle and his cousin; one at Thievpal, the other on the Menin Gate.
And when I step onto those long past battlefields, walk where my grandfather once marched, I shall step lightly and respectfully, for here lie the brave and the unforgotten of both sides who fought and died for their country.
It is: ANZAC Day, born out of the landing of Aussie soldiers on the inhospitable shores of Gallipoli on this day, 1914.
Once, young people saw it as a day off school, as a day where old people marched down the street wearing shiney medals and holding flags designating their armed forces unit, as a day when those marchers went to the pub, played two-up (illegal except for this one day), shed a tear or two in remembrance and got absolutely trashed.
But a new generation of Australians are determined to remember those fallen. Today, tens of thousands of Aussies - young and old - travel to those distant shores to remember and pay homage to the courage and indomitable spirit of the young men who fought and died there.
For the first time in ninety years, a similar memorial service is being held at Villiers-Bretonneaux in France. Here, Australian troops turned back the advance of German soldiers. Every year since, the French have held a memorial service, and yet this year is the first, official commemoration ceremony by Australia.
I now have a personal interest in World War I. I always knew my grandfather fought in Europe, but it was a vague kind of thought. Having researched the tree, his courage and determination is ever more real. He was one of two surviving brothers - four brothers and three sisters having died in early childhood - and his parents must have been alternatively proud and scared silly at his enlistment.
On my mother's side, her father and six of his brothers returned wounded; my grandfather, without a leg at the age of 19.
In two weeks, I'll be searching the WWI memorials for two names: a great uncle and his cousin; one at Thievpal, the other on the Menin Gate.
And when I step onto those long past battlefields, walk where my grandfather once marched, I shall step lightly and respectfully, for here lie the brave and the unforgotten of both sides who fought and died for their country.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Shifts
Eye: Black
Temper: Simmering
Anxiety: Rising
Sleeps: Seven!
Given that upgrading the laptop to wireless broadband is an expense I'm not willing to indulge in, I'll be relying on Internet Cafes during my travels. This, of course, means limited posts and I have no idea if they allow uploads. If they don't, no more stories for a month; if they do, I'll be posting other stories, I think, since they're already written.
I'm also feeling like I'm in mourning at missing the Forward Motion story-a-day marathon. May and November are my big months for writing-under-pressure and I love doing them. Since I can't do May, I've decided to do the marathon in June. I want those short stories.
I also keep wondering whether I have everything. Lists are no good if you've left something... important... off. I'm sure the anxiety levels will drop off, oh, somewhere over Indonesia...
Anyway, I've finally post the next episode of Bounty Hunter over at the Takeaway. I'll try to post one more before I leave, but if I can't... I'll post a short story when I get to Copenhagen. I'm sure D. will loan me his computer.
Temper: Simmering
Anxiety: Rising
Sleeps: Seven!
Given that upgrading the laptop to wireless broadband is an expense I'm not willing to indulge in, I'll be relying on Internet Cafes during my travels. This, of course, means limited posts and I have no idea if they allow uploads. If they don't, no more stories for a month; if they do, I'll be posting other stories, I think, since they're already written.
I'm also feeling like I'm in mourning at missing the Forward Motion story-a-day marathon. May and November are my big months for writing-under-pressure and I love doing them. Since I can't do May, I've decided to do the marathon in June. I want those short stories.
I also keep wondering whether I have everything. Lists are no good if you've left something... important... off. I'm sure the anxiety levels will drop off, oh, somewhere over Indonesia...
Anyway, I've finally post the next episode of Bounty Hunter over at the Takeaway. I'll try to post one more before I leave, but if I can't... I'll post a short story when I get to Copenhagen. I'm sure D. will loan me his computer.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Eyeful
Lots of things happened today to get in the way of my story.
Real life, when it happens, can be a bitch.
I went off to the Skin Cancer Clinic for a check up - given last year's troubles, it was an excellent idea - and had a little bit done - right on my eyelid, so my eye's swelled up some.
I won't go into the dribbles of warm, red blood, the scent of cauterized flesh and the like, I'll just say the next episode of Bounty Hunter will be up tomorrow morning and I'm going to take a painkiller.
Real life, when it happens, can be a bitch.
I went off to the Skin Cancer Clinic for a check up - given last year's troubles, it was an excellent idea - and had a little bit done - right on my eyelid, so my eye's swelled up some.
I won't go into the dribbles of warm, red blood, the scent of cauterized flesh and the like, I'll just say the next episode of Bounty Hunter will be up tomorrow morning and I'm going to take a painkiller.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Earth Day
Today is Earth Day.
I suppose that means we should consider what we are doing to the planet and how to ameliorate the damage.
It's hard to be absolutely sure in this day and age. The great hope for a better fuel source, bio-fuel, has some originally unexpected side effects; like bio-fuel crops being planted to replace food crops. The consequences we've all seen: food riots in Haiti, India, Sri Lanka, Kenya and so on.
My suggestion would be to plant the food crops, like wheat, and use the stubble, the parts that we don't use for food as bio-fuel. Just an idea...
Anyway, there's a lot to be said for being conscious of how our daily lives affect the planet. Some might think "I am one person, how much difference can it make?" A lot, actually. If you think of your single impact and multiply it by how many live in your state or country, the figures expand rather frighteningly.
Recycle those plastics bottles - if PET, they can be made into polar fleece - tins, papers, whatever. Revitalise old furniture: bookcases into cupboards, cupboards into bookcases.
Check out the various environmental friendly websites like: Environment Magazine, for current information; Planet Ark and campaigns that you can become involved with; The Conservation Foundation have branches all over world you can check out.
I haven't mentioned Greenpeace because I disapprove of some of their practices. But if you feel the need here's the link.
I recycle what can be recycled. I turn off lights when not in a room. I use long-life light bulbs. I turn off appliances when not in use - and I mean at the switch, not the standby button. I think before I use the car and I compost organic material for the garden. I especially pick up litter dropped by the multitude of tourists to our fair village.
Earth Day is just one day, so what are you doing on a long term basis to help the planet?
I suppose that means we should consider what we are doing to the planet and how to ameliorate the damage.
It's hard to be absolutely sure in this day and age. The great hope for a better fuel source, bio-fuel, has some originally unexpected side effects; like bio-fuel crops being planted to replace food crops. The consequences we've all seen: food riots in Haiti, India, Sri Lanka, Kenya and so on.
My suggestion would be to plant the food crops, like wheat, and use the stubble, the parts that we don't use for food as bio-fuel. Just an idea...
Anyway, there's a lot to be said for being conscious of how our daily lives affect the planet. Some might think "I am one person, how much difference can it make?" A lot, actually. If you think of your single impact and multiply it by how many live in your state or country, the figures expand rather frighteningly.
Recycle those plastics bottles - if PET, they can be made into polar fleece - tins, papers, whatever. Revitalise old furniture: bookcases into cupboards, cupboards into bookcases.
Check out the various environmental friendly websites like: Environment Magazine, for current information; Planet Ark and campaigns that you can become involved with; The Conservation Foundation have branches all over world you can check out.
I haven't mentioned Greenpeace because I disapprove of some of their practices. But if you feel the need here's the link.
I recycle what can be recycled. I turn off lights when not in a room. I use long-life light bulbs. I turn off appliances when not in use - and I mean at the switch, not the standby button. I think before I use the car and I compost organic material for the garden. I especially pick up litter dropped by the multitude of tourists to our fair village.
Earth Day is just one day, so what are you doing on a long term basis to help the planet?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Resear... oooh, shiney!
For me, research is easy and hard: easy, because I find everything interesting; hard, because... I find everything interesting. I keep telling myself to stay on topic, but it rarely happens because there is so much stuff out there to distract.
Today's example: I'm looking into suppressing electrical fires and find CO2 works fine and water is a really big no-no. But CO2 is also toxic and not quite what I need, so there must be another way and I look up the shuttle accidents and find a list including all space-faring accidents. Ooo, German rockets in World War II - my mother as a child experienced the terror of the V2 - and Max Valier, an Austrian pioneer of rocketry. Of course, then I had to follow the link to the rocket car and the JATO rocket car and then entirely off subject to The Darwin Awards where I happily spent an hour or so smirking at those trying to leave the gene pool.
I'm sure a lot of them thought 'it was a good idea at the time', but you could see disaster from a long way off. So, moving on. One had a link to Mythbusters. I love that show, though sometimes, the science doesn't seem logical to me. But I like 'things that go boom' as much as Adam and Jamie, especially the episode where they blew up the cement truck... and on I went to the Discovery's Science Channel checking out the kids games and interesting articles on Black Holes, singing icebergs, Saturn's moons and ten quick questions with theoretical physicist Micho Kaku, who I find fascinating.
It's about this time I realise I've kind of deviated from my original task: electrical fires and how to put them out if you're in space.
I really should try and settle down to find what I need, learn discipline. But there's always something new to learn and the advent of the internet is a blessing and curse. Knowledge is never wasted, merely stored away for future use. Anyway, back to electrical fires... oh, there's just that one item on supervolcanoes...
Today's example: I'm looking into suppressing electrical fires and find CO2 works fine and water is a really big no-no. But CO2 is also toxic and not quite what I need, so there must be another way and I look up the shuttle accidents and find a list including all space-faring accidents. Ooo, German rockets in World War II - my mother as a child experienced the terror of the V2 - and Max Valier, an Austrian pioneer of rocketry. Of course, then I had to follow the link to the rocket car and the JATO rocket car and then entirely off subject to The Darwin Awards where I happily spent an hour or so smirking at those trying to leave the gene pool.
I'm sure a lot of them thought 'it was a good idea at the time', but you could see disaster from a long way off. So, moving on. One had a link to Mythbusters. I love that show, though sometimes, the science doesn't seem logical to me. But I like 'things that go boom' as much as Adam and Jamie, especially the episode where they blew up the cement truck... and on I went to the Discovery's Science Channel checking out the kids games and interesting articles on Black Holes, singing icebergs, Saturn's moons and ten quick questions with theoretical physicist Micho Kaku, who I find fascinating.
It's about this time I realise I've kind of deviated from my original task: electrical fires and how to put them out if you're in space.
I really should try and settle down to find what I need, learn discipline. But there's always something new to learn and the advent of the internet is a blessing and curse. Knowledge is never wasted, merely stored away for future use. Anyway, back to electrical fires... oh, there's just that one item on supervolcanoes...
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sark-y
Hands up all those who know where Sark (fr. Sercq) is?
Nope, I didn't know either until an interesting story on Wikipedia came up.
Sark is one of the Channel Islands and just off France. Until this month, it was also considered the last Feudal state. How about that?
The Seigneur of Sark was, prior to the constitutional reforms of 2008, the head of the feudal government of the Isle of Sark (in the case of a woman, the title was Dame). Many of the laws, particularly those related to inheritance and the rule of the Seigneur, changed little since they were enacted in 1565 under Queen Elizabeth I. Wikipedia
Feudalism in the 21st Century. Not that I'm criticising, I find it fascinating and I'm curious as to how the citizens, historically, related to it. This history is interesting, too, but go and read the article. I'm sure the socio-political status could provoke a number of stories.
The island also has some wonderfully named executive officers like, Seneschal, Prevot, Greffier and Vingtenier.
It's the little things, the unexpected things and the out-of-the-way places that inspire me... though I still haven't found a solution to my do-or-die ending...
Nope, I didn't know either until an interesting story on Wikipedia came up.
Sark is one of the Channel Islands and just off France. Until this month, it was also considered the last Feudal state. How about that?
The Seigneur of Sark was, prior to the constitutional reforms of 2008, the head of the feudal government of the Isle of Sark (in the case of a woman, the title was Dame). Many of the laws, particularly those related to inheritance and the rule of the Seigneur, changed little since they were enacted in 1565 under Queen Elizabeth I. Wikipedia
Feudalism in the 21st Century. Not that I'm criticising, I find it fascinating and I'm curious as to how the citizens, historically, related to it. This history is interesting, too, but go and read the article. I'm sure the socio-political status could provoke a number of stories.
The island also has some wonderfully named executive officers like, Seneschal, Prevot, Greffier and Vingtenier.
It's the little things, the unexpected things and the out-of-the-way places that inspire me... though I still haven't found a solution to my do-or-die ending...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Lookie, lookie
Oh, boy. Ya make a little comment - okay, rant - and suddenly (and temporarily) you're popular, everyone wants to look.
I don't mind, I think it's a curious part of society, especially in Blogland. But what I want to know is: How does a blog piece attract the attention of people with no contact with that blog?
I wrote a piece on comment sense (see below), about the fashion industry using under-developed girls for catwalks and as clothes horses. No big, just me having a little vent.
A couple of days later, I checked my counter statistics and thought, "hmm, not many people came to my blog this week, it's almost a flat line except for... Holy Smoke!" A spike of a hundred visitors on Tuesday. What? Where? Who?
Where did this legion, this crowd come from? Answer: here. Colour me gobsmacked. A site I have never heard of and never thought existed. Oh, that's me, currently - at this particular juncture in time - at number eight on the list. Yesterday it was higher, above the Keira Knightly link (take that Domino!)
It's what I love about the world-wide web: you never know who's gonna come a'visitin'. But being curious by nature, I can't help but wonder how I got linked. No, I don't want any confessions (the title was changed on the site), I just think it's cool and surprising. I'll leave it to Secret Squirrel.
Now I have to go off and find a solution to my ongoing story. Nothing has occurred to me yet...
I don't mind, I think it's a curious part of society, especially in Blogland. But what I want to know is: How does a blog piece attract the attention of people with no contact with that blog?
I wrote a piece on comment sense (see below), about the fashion industry using under-developed girls for catwalks and as clothes horses. No big, just me having a little vent.
A couple of days later, I checked my counter statistics and thought, "hmm, not many people came to my blog this week, it's almost a flat line except for... Holy Smoke!" A spike of a hundred visitors on Tuesday. What? Where? Who?
Where did this legion, this crowd come from? Answer: here. Colour me gobsmacked. A site I have never heard of and never thought existed. Oh, that's me, currently - at this particular juncture in time - at number eight on the list. Yesterday it was higher, above the Keira Knightly link (take that Domino!)
It's what I love about the world-wide web: you never know who's gonna come a'visitin'. But being curious by nature, I can't help but wonder how I got linked. No, I don't want any confessions (the title was changed on the site), I just think it's cool and surprising. I'll leave it to Secret Squirrel.
Now I have to go off and find a solution to my ongoing story. Nothing has occurred to me yet...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Scribd and Rhianna
I now have a Scribd site, much to my annoyance.
Why am I annoyed? Because I thought to wait until I returned from OT (Over There) before tossing my metaphoric hat into the ring.
However. Lynn Viehl has a new book of free short stories up. Near Dawn is about the Darkyn and has excerpts to Twilight Fall and Stay The Night. Unfortunately, I couldn't download the book - to read at my leisure - without signing up; so I did.
I have every intention of posting free stuff on my new Scribd site but not until June when I'm back.
In the meantime, Hard Ground is up over at The Takeaway. I'm off to read Lynn's book now...
Why am I annoyed? Because I thought to wait until I returned from OT (Over There) before tossing my metaphoric hat into the ring.
However. Lynn Viehl has a new book of free short stories up. Near Dawn is about the Darkyn and has excerpts to Twilight Fall and Stay The Night. Unfortunately, I couldn't download the book - to read at my leisure - without signing up; so I did.
I have every intention of posting free stuff on my new Scribd site but not until June when I'm back.
In the meantime, Hard Ground is up over at The Takeaway. I'm off to read Lynn's book now...
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Fair and Balanced...
Five things that have pissed me off this week:
1. The man who wears Prada shoes, Cartier sunglasses and hand-tailored clothes - otherwise known as God's Rottweiler, the Grand Inquisitor and... the Pope - while millions of Catholics live in poverty.
2. Robert Mugabe, the man who doesn't know when to quit even when his country's people suffer.
3. All those green groups who forced and otherwise manipulated countries into drastic cuts in carbon emissions without considering the consequences, like food crops being sold for biofuels. And we've still to hear from them.
4. Tibet. 'nuff said.
5. The greed of OPEC for the price of oil and the idiots who forced the 'credit crunch' by loaning money to those who couldn't pay it back.
Five things that have made me happy this week:
1. The 'accidental' rescue by Iraqi forces of kidnapped CBS journalist, Richard Butler. The Iraqi forces needed the morale lift.
2. Australia's appointment of the first woman Governor General, Ms Quentin Bryce, current Governor of Queensland.
3. JK Rowling's lawsuit against Steven Vander Ark's Harry Potter lexicon. No matter that JK is worth buckets of money, Vander Ark is trying to profit from JK's work.
4. The lack of protests as the Olympic Torch made it's way through South America, Africa and the Middle East. The Human Rights Advocates have made their point, enough already. Oh, the torch had it's genesis in the Nazi regime; maybe we should drop it altogether.
5. Sixteen days until I fly out for Europe. Who wouldn't be happy with that?
1. The man who wears Prada shoes, Cartier sunglasses and hand-tailored clothes - otherwise known as God's Rottweiler, the Grand Inquisitor and... the Pope - while millions of Catholics live in poverty.
2. Robert Mugabe, the man who doesn't know when to quit even when his country's people suffer.
3. All those green groups who forced and otherwise manipulated countries into drastic cuts in carbon emissions without considering the consequences, like food crops being sold for biofuels. And we've still to hear from them.
4. Tibet. 'nuff said.
5. The greed of OPEC for the price of oil and the idiots who forced the 'credit crunch' by loaning money to those who couldn't pay it back.
Five things that have made me happy this week:
1. The 'accidental' rescue by Iraqi forces of kidnapped CBS journalist, Richard Butler. The Iraqi forces needed the morale lift.
2. Australia's appointment of the first woman Governor General, Ms Quentin Bryce, current Governor of Queensland.
3. JK Rowling's lawsuit against Steven Vander Ark's Harry Potter lexicon. No matter that JK is worth buckets of money, Vander Ark is trying to profit from JK's work.
4. The lack of protests as the Olympic Torch made it's way through South America, Africa and the Middle East. The Human Rights Advocates have made their point, enough already. Oh, the torch had it's genesis in the Nazi regime; maybe we should drop it altogether.
5. Sixteen days until I fly out for Europe. Who wouldn't be happy with that?
Friday, April 11, 2008
Yay, for common sense
Australian Fashion Week has axed under-age Polish model, Monika Jagaciak from the cat walk.
Better yet, Vogue magazine has decided not to show the 14-year-old on the cover and fashion magazine Marie Claire has called for a minimum age of 16 for all models.
The Editor of Vogue, Kirsty Clements said that Jagaciak's case is symptomatic of a sick fashion system. "I mean there's the obvious sexualisation of very young girls ... but also the reason that they are using them so young because they haven't actually developed women's bodies yet. And that is a whole other part of the business that's a problem," Clements said.
As Ms Clements pointed out, the fashion industry is built around selling clothes to women and to use a girl who's yet to develop curves is ridiculous.
I agree. For too long the fashion industry has promoted the ultimate woman as flat-chested and stick thin when the truth is a long way from that. The average woman has a lot more curves than ruler and to suggest otherwise is a lie.
Worse, it encourages young girls to try to conform to such a image resulting in chronic eating disorders. That's not to say that all models contribute to the problem, but look how popular (from an Australian point of view) Elle McPherson and Megan Gale have been. And I understand that some models are just genetically built to be skinny as a piece of gum. But for the industry to tell the rest of the world they are ideal is wrong on so many levels.
I hope the industry days of wanting women with the shape of adolescent boys is over. I also hope that a pretty girl like Monika Jagaciak has a long and successful career, but not before she's ready, and not before she develops some womanly curves.
* * *
And in another cheer for common sense, giant confectionery company, Cadbury-Schweppes, has lost a court case it brought against confectioners Darrell Lea to stop them from using the colour purple.
Justice Peter Heerey ruled Cadbury was not the only company that used the colour purple to market its chocolate.
Buying chocolate would be a drab affair indeed if all chocolatiers were banned from using purple, I think.
Better yet, Vogue magazine has decided not to show the 14-year-old on the cover and fashion magazine Marie Claire has called for a minimum age of 16 for all models.
The Editor of Vogue, Kirsty Clements said that Jagaciak's case is symptomatic of a sick fashion system. "I mean there's the obvious sexualisation of very young girls ... but also the reason that they are using them so young because they haven't actually developed women's bodies yet. And that is a whole other part of the business that's a problem," Clements said.
As Ms Clements pointed out, the fashion industry is built around selling clothes to women and to use a girl who's yet to develop curves is ridiculous.
I agree. For too long the fashion industry has promoted the ultimate woman as flat-chested and stick thin when the truth is a long way from that. The average woman has a lot more curves than ruler and to suggest otherwise is a lie.
Worse, it encourages young girls to try to conform to such a image resulting in chronic eating disorders. That's not to say that all models contribute to the problem, but look how popular (from an Australian point of view) Elle McPherson and Megan Gale have been. And I understand that some models are just genetically built to be skinny as a piece of gum. But for the industry to tell the rest of the world they are ideal is wrong on so many levels.
I hope the industry days of wanting women with the shape of adolescent boys is over. I also hope that a pretty girl like Monika Jagaciak has a long and successful career, but not before she's ready, and not before she develops some womanly curves.
* * *
And in another cheer for common sense, giant confectionery company, Cadbury-Schweppes, has lost a court case it brought against confectioners Darrell Lea to stop them from using the colour purple.
Justice Peter Heerey ruled Cadbury was not the only company that used the colour purple to market its chocolate.
Buying chocolate would be a drab affair indeed if all chocolatiers were banned from using purple, I think.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Zodiacs
I've just finished reading Vicki Pettersson's The Taste of Night. This is the second in the Zodiac series (the first is The Scent of Shadows) and set in Las Vegas. The series revolves around balance, the bad guys - Shadows - and the good guys - Lights. All represent the signs of Zodiac.
The Shadow Zodiac is typically cruel to mortals as they try to defeat the Light. The good guys follow the rules, protect the innocents while trying to maintain the balance. Enter the chief bad guy whose powers are... scary.
Our protagonist, Joanna Archer, is a woman of both Shadow and Light. For that reason, the Light don't always trust her and the Shadows just want her on their side. Why? Because she is the daughter of the chief Shadow, a creature made flesh from thought, and the most powerful of all.
And so we have the clash between super villains and super heroes, though Joanna wants to be neither. Oh, no. She wants to settle down with Ben Traina, love of her life. But since her 'accidental' death she has to keep those she loves out of the line of fire or her Shadow side might just consume her.
I can't remember the last time a read a book where the main character was so wonderfully selfish for what appears the right reasons. Joanna Archer came to the Zodiacs late, and when both sides realise who she is, the head Light agent begins to only teach Joanna what is absolutely necessary for a mission for fear she will use the information for the Shadows. A fact emphasised by the Shadows and used by them to manipulate her.
She's between the rock and the hard place and has to do things her own way because of the lack of trust. This has catastrophic results and while The Taste of Night neatly wraps up plot threads, there are more portents of disaster given for the next book. It seems everything Joanna does leads to more death and destruction, even though she thought, at the time, she was doing the right thing; even doing nothing has consequences.
I kept wanting to skip pages to see what happens; wanted to, but didn't. Ms Pettersson writes with passion and cleverness, she lures the reader in and onwards with the promise of maybe a not-so-happily-ever-after ending, with characters who display both realistic and unrealistic traits.
I recommend these books to anyone who wants to read paranormal, but not vampires, werewolves or other preternatural creatures. These superheroes are flawed, tortured and sometimes desperate; the supervillains are... evil, cruel and enjoy being that way.
I'm hangin' for the next instalment, The Touch of Twilight at the end of May, because this series is already re-readable and has the makings of a classic fantasy series.
The Shadow Zodiac is typically cruel to mortals as they try to defeat the Light. The good guys follow the rules, protect the innocents while trying to maintain the balance. Enter the chief bad guy whose powers are... scary.
Our protagonist, Joanna Archer, is a woman of both Shadow and Light. For that reason, the Light don't always trust her and the Shadows just want her on their side. Why? Because she is the daughter of the chief Shadow, a creature made flesh from thought, and the most powerful of all.
And so we have the clash between super villains and super heroes, though Joanna wants to be neither. Oh, no. She wants to settle down with Ben Traina, love of her life. But since her 'accidental' death she has to keep those she loves out of the line of fire or her Shadow side might just consume her.
I can't remember the last time a read a book where the main character was so wonderfully selfish for what appears the right reasons. Joanna Archer came to the Zodiacs late, and when both sides realise who she is, the head Light agent begins to only teach Joanna what is absolutely necessary for a mission for fear she will use the information for the Shadows. A fact emphasised by the Shadows and used by them to manipulate her.
She's between the rock and the hard place and has to do things her own way because of the lack of trust. This has catastrophic results and while The Taste of Night neatly wraps up plot threads, there are more portents of disaster given for the next book. It seems everything Joanna does leads to more death and destruction, even though she thought, at the time, she was doing the right thing; even doing nothing has consequences.
I kept wanting to skip pages to see what happens; wanted to, but didn't. Ms Pettersson writes with passion and cleverness, she lures the reader in and onwards with the promise of maybe a not-so-happily-ever-after ending, with characters who display both realistic and unrealistic traits.
I recommend these books to anyone who wants to read paranormal, but not vampires, werewolves or other preternatural creatures. These superheroes are flawed, tortured and sometimes desperate; the supervillains are... evil, cruel and enjoy being that way.
I'm hangin' for the next instalment, The Touch of Twilight at the end of May, because this series is already re-readable and has the makings of a classic fantasy series.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Temporary oops
It's so easy to end your WIP by accident.
In my current endeavour, I'm practising conciseness; that is, to write meaningful text, with a beginning, a middle and a cliff-hanger end but when I put it all together will amount to a novel.
They're bite-sized pieces I write on Monday, edit on Tuesday and post on Wednesday (my time), so I'm making it up as I go along. It's also good for scheduling and getting into the habit of writing at a particular time and editing at a particular time.
Marathons like the story-a-day at Forward Motion in May, or the novel writing of Nano in November serve a purpose, but a writer has to sit down and write more than two months of the year.
Being an organic writer, it's tough to write to a schedule, to write on demand rather than 'when I feel like it'. All writers - published or not - go through it; that rebellion, the bottom lip quiver and mental hissy fit because the shopping centre is calling, or the latest, riveting television series is out on DVD, the kids are sick, housework needs doing, or a thousand other reasons why writing is not the sugary lure it was yesterday.
Me, I look outside to the perfect autumnal day and want to go walk on the beach, or go massacre (read: prune) something in the garden, read the book I've been waiting months for or surf sites dealing with my trip in three weeks.
And with that mindset, I wrote a temporary ending to Bounty Hunter, did a left turn where a character did nothing to stop being shanghaied - totally wrong, totally unlike them and totally too soon.
Sure, I might have difficulty with the continuations in May, but I just have to arrange that, work around the problems and stay true to the story while I stay on track.
Obviously an impending trip to other countries is a distraction, but that's no excuse... okay, it is... but the important thing is to maintain continuity. I'm going to try at least.
The next instalment is up at The Takeaway. Now I'll have to give some thought as to where next, and what now and is it all as bad as it seems...
In my current endeavour, I'm practising conciseness; that is, to write meaningful text, with a beginning, a middle and a cliff-hanger end but when I put it all together will amount to a novel.
They're bite-sized pieces I write on Monday, edit on Tuesday and post on Wednesday (my time), so I'm making it up as I go along. It's also good for scheduling and getting into the habit of writing at a particular time and editing at a particular time.
Marathons like the story-a-day at Forward Motion in May, or the novel writing of Nano in November serve a purpose, but a writer has to sit down and write more than two months of the year.
Being an organic writer, it's tough to write to a schedule, to write on demand rather than 'when I feel like it'. All writers - published or not - go through it; that rebellion, the bottom lip quiver and mental hissy fit because the shopping centre is calling, or the latest, riveting television series is out on DVD, the kids are sick, housework needs doing, or a thousand other reasons why writing is not the sugary lure it was yesterday.
Me, I look outside to the perfect autumnal day and want to go walk on the beach, or go massacre (read: prune) something in the garden, read the book I've been waiting months for or surf sites dealing with my trip in three weeks.
And with that mindset, I wrote a temporary ending to Bounty Hunter, did a left turn where a character did nothing to stop being shanghaied - totally wrong, totally unlike them and totally too soon.
Sure, I might have difficulty with the continuations in May, but I just have to arrange that, work around the problems and stay true to the story while I stay on track.
Obviously an impending trip to other countries is a distraction, but that's no excuse... okay, it is... but the important thing is to maintain continuity. I'm going to try at least.
The next instalment is up at The Takeaway. Now I'll have to give some thought as to where next, and what now and is it all as bad as it seems...
Monday, April 07, 2008
It's all about me me
Over at The Lost Fort, Gabriele has a character meme. I love memes, they hand out interesting bits of information. One day, I might even track one down to its creator.
In the meantime, I'm going to do this 'Four' meme about, well, me me; coz it's all about me!
Four jobs I've had
1. Newspaper editor
2. Beetroot packer
3. Dining Room Manager
4. Waitress
Four movies I could watch over and over
1. Lord of the Rings
2. Terminator
3. Appleseed
4. Aliens
Four TV shows that I watch
1. Torchwood
2. Dr Who
3. Star Trek: Voyager
4. CSI
Four places I'd like to be right now
1. Scotland
2. Pacific Northwest
3. New Zealand
4. Staring at my name at the top of the NYT Best Seller list.
Four favourite foods
1. Chicken parmesan
2. Red Wine casserole with herb dumplings
3. Beef Roulade
4. Lemon cheesecake
Four places I have visited
1. Fiji
2. Copenhagen
3. United Kingdom
4. United States
Four events I'm looking forward to this year
1. Godson's confirmation
2. WWI battlefield tour of Belgium
3. A particular party at the end of the year that's a secret.
4. Niece's graduation from a French language school.
Four people who should post four things
Anyone who has a burning ambition to post them.
In the meantime, I'm going to do this 'Four' meme about, well, me me; coz it's all about me!
Four jobs I've had
1. Newspaper editor
2. Beetroot packer
3. Dining Room Manager
4. Waitress
Four movies I could watch over and over
1. Lord of the Rings
2. Terminator
3. Appleseed
4. Aliens
Four TV shows that I watch
1. Torchwood
2. Dr Who
3. Star Trek: Voyager
4. CSI
Four places I'd like to be right now
1. Scotland
2. Pacific Northwest
3. New Zealand
4. Staring at my name at the top of the NYT Best Seller list.
Four favourite foods
1. Chicken parmesan
2. Red Wine casserole with herb dumplings
3. Beef Roulade
4. Lemon cheesecake
Four places I have visited
1. Fiji
2. Copenhagen
3. United Kingdom
4. United States
Four events I'm looking forward to this year
1. Godson's confirmation
2. WWI battlefield tour of Belgium
3. A particular party at the end of the year that's a secret.
4. Niece's graduation from a French language school.
Four people who should post four things
Anyone who has a burning ambition to post them.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Zimbabwe
Like a lot of the world's population, I've been watching Zimbabwe with some interest. Why? Well, I like to keep up to date with world politics. How populations react to their governments or candidates, is a good way to start developing your own socio-political world.
World building isn't just about land, weather and how many suns in the sky. But I digress.
Mugabe was once a hero to his nation, 'free-ing' the land of 'oppressive' British rule. Ha! He has taken a country known as the 'bread-basket of Africa' and bankrupted it in under thirty years.
Inflation is at 100,000 percent; unemployment at 80 percent; the life expectancy for men is 37 years and for women, 34. The central bank has just introduced a $ZIM 50 million note - worth about 50p in pounds, 80 cents US, and about 82 cents Australian. Fifty million!
And who does Mugabe and his 'liberation' war veterans blame for this catastrophe? Why, Britain of course. You'll remember that Mugabe handed over profitable white-owned farms to the veterans. These veterans had no concept, no idea of how to run a farm and those farms are now in disrepair and nothing is produced. Loyal farm workers were either run off or killed, as were the original owners. This group were also used for intimidation and violence against opposition supporters.
In a recent statement, veteran Jabulani Sibanda, said: "It now looks like these elections were a way to open for the re-invasion of this country (by the British)."
I doubt Britain has any plan whatsoever of invading Zimbabwe, but it's a useful scare tactic - or was. Now, the veterans are used as thugs so an 84-year-old can hang on to power of nation with no money, no infrastructure and a declining population.
If it continues, he'll be president of an empty land. Then again, he and his cronies have stripped the wealth, secreted the money in offshore accounts. You can bet they don't want to be arrested and charged with human rights violations, fraud, vote-rigging and any number of charges they deserve.
We all know this, but what startled me was the naive and ineffectual comment from South Africa's President, Thabo Imbeki, who suggested people 'wait for the official results' before taking any action.
Official results? Mugabe stole the last election by rigging the votes and intimidating the voters. In this election, an extra three million ballots were produced. How easy would it be for opposition votes to be replaced should the outside world demand to see them as proof Mugabe won as many as he says? After all the Electoral Commission is headed by his appointees.
In the meantime, he'll delay the 'results' while working behind the scenes to ensure his re-election; either that, or he's working on an escape plan.
His people are starving, they have no jobs and currently no prospects of one, they have no money and nothing to spend it on. And yet, he wears his hand-tailored suits, drinks and eats the best foods while his lackeys join in.
If ever a man needed to be... disposed of, Mugabe is he, if only to save his nation from his own excesses.
Why do I care about a country so far away? I worked with a rather gor-jus young white Zimbabwean some years ago while in England. His parents were farmers and I find myself wondering what happened to them. Did they safely get to South Africa? Or did the worst happen to them? I like to think they made it, but my creative mind can think up some stories revolving around their escape; or not.
Zimbabwe is the perfect lesson on how to take a profitable, viable nation and destroy it. And all we can do is... wait.
World building isn't just about land, weather and how many suns in the sky. But I digress.
Mugabe was once a hero to his nation, 'free-ing' the land of 'oppressive' British rule. Ha! He has taken a country known as the 'bread-basket of Africa' and bankrupted it in under thirty years.
Inflation is at 100,000 percent; unemployment at 80 percent; the life expectancy for men is 37 years and for women, 34. The central bank has just introduced a $ZIM 50 million note - worth about 50p in pounds, 80 cents US, and about 82 cents Australian. Fifty million!
And who does Mugabe and his 'liberation' war veterans blame for this catastrophe? Why, Britain of course. You'll remember that Mugabe handed over profitable white-owned farms to the veterans. These veterans had no concept, no idea of how to run a farm and those farms are now in disrepair and nothing is produced. Loyal farm workers were either run off or killed, as were the original owners. This group were also used for intimidation and violence against opposition supporters.
In a recent statement, veteran Jabulani Sibanda, said: "It now looks like these elections were a way to open for the re-invasion of this country (by the British)."
I doubt Britain has any plan whatsoever of invading Zimbabwe, but it's a useful scare tactic - or was. Now, the veterans are used as thugs so an 84-year-old can hang on to power of nation with no money, no infrastructure and a declining population.
If it continues, he'll be president of an empty land. Then again, he and his cronies have stripped the wealth, secreted the money in offshore accounts. You can bet they don't want to be arrested and charged with human rights violations, fraud, vote-rigging and any number of charges they deserve.
We all know this, but what startled me was the naive and ineffectual comment from South Africa's President, Thabo Imbeki, who suggested people 'wait for the official results' before taking any action.
Official results? Mugabe stole the last election by rigging the votes and intimidating the voters. In this election, an extra three million ballots were produced. How easy would it be for opposition votes to be replaced should the outside world demand to see them as proof Mugabe won as many as he says? After all the Electoral Commission is headed by his appointees.
In the meantime, he'll delay the 'results' while working behind the scenes to ensure his re-election; either that, or he's working on an escape plan.
His people are starving, they have no jobs and currently no prospects of one, they have no money and nothing to spend it on. And yet, he wears his hand-tailored suits, drinks and eats the best foods while his lackeys join in.
If ever a man needed to be... disposed of, Mugabe is he, if only to save his nation from his own excesses.
Why do I care about a country so far away? I worked with a rather gor-jus young white Zimbabwean some years ago while in England. His parents were farmers and I find myself wondering what happened to them. Did they safely get to South Africa? Or did the worst happen to them? I like to think they made it, but my creative mind can think up some stories revolving around their escape; or not.
Zimbabwe is the perfect lesson on how to take a profitable, viable nation and destroy it. And all we can do is... wait.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Our Rudd-er
Big bad Kev has just finished his tour of the U.S. Our Prime Minister made a number of announcements, all of which should have been made on home soil.
Like… going for a seat on the United Nations Security Council. No mention of the $AUS30-40 million dollars it will cost, nor the greater cost of compromising our stand on certain issues: Japanese whaling, South Pacific government corruption, Chinese human rights violations, and so on.
It’s not as if the U.N. has proven itself worthwhile in recent years. In fact, I’m wondering if it’s a lame duck. It sucks up enormous resources and money, for little visible return. Remember Bosnia? Within a week the U.S. had done what the U.N. failed to do in years of talks. Afghanistan? It did nothing to stop the Taliban execute women for showing ankles or begging on the street or any number of bullshit crimes. Iraq? For ten years Hussein thumbed his nose at U.N. sanctions – of course he had help from U.N. members France, Russia and China. For ten years he rattled his sabre and threatened biological and chemical attacks; did, in fact, kill thousands of Kurds.
Rule by committee does not work and the larger the committee, the less work is done.
Nope. We don’t need to be on the Security Council, we can continue to work behind the scenes. But our PM wants us to be more involved in world affairs – but do we have the international clout for that?
Mr Rudd also had a chat to Presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and John McCain, though Barack Obama was only available for a phone call, coz he was so far away in Pennsylvania.
* * *
It being Wednesday, there’s another instalment of Bounty Hunter up on the Takeaway.
And now, since we have ferocious winds coming up the coast, I’d better go and batten down the hatches (Melbourne and Tasmania have copped a beating today, and I have no doubt… we’re next).
Like… going for a seat on the United Nations Security Council. No mention of the $AUS30-40 million dollars it will cost, nor the greater cost of compromising our stand on certain issues: Japanese whaling, South Pacific government corruption, Chinese human rights violations, and so on.
It’s not as if the U.N. has proven itself worthwhile in recent years. In fact, I’m wondering if it’s a lame duck. It sucks up enormous resources and money, for little visible return. Remember Bosnia? Within a week the U.S. had done what the U.N. failed to do in years of talks. Afghanistan? It did nothing to stop the Taliban execute women for showing ankles or begging on the street or any number of bullshit crimes. Iraq? For ten years Hussein thumbed his nose at U.N. sanctions – of course he had help from U.N. members France, Russia and China. For ten years he rattled his sabre and threatened biological and chemical attacks; did, in fact, kill thousands of Kurds.
Rule by committee does not work and the larger the committee, the less work is done.
Nope. We don’t need to be on the Security Council, we can continue to work behind the scenes. But our PM wants us to be more involved in world affairs – but do we have the international clout for that?
Mr Rudd also had a chat to Presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and John McCain, though Barack Obama was only available for a phone call, coz he was so far away in Pennsylvania.
* * *
It being Wednesday, there’s another instalment of Bounty Hunter up on the Takeaway.
And now, since we have ferocious winds coming up the coast, I’d better go and batten down the hatches (Melbourne and Tasmania have copped a beating today, and I have no doubt… we’re next).
Monday, March 31, 2008
Shaking the tree
I've been trying to hunt down more ancestors before I take off; nothing has changed except my frustration levels.
My search has reached beyond the atypical databases, that is 1800 and earlier. Yeah, I know, if my ancestors knew I would be hunting them down, they'd be more attentive in their record keeping. And the powers-that-be would have everything I need accessible and free of charge on online.
But that's okay, I'll hunt them down the old fashioned way: going there and looking up the records.
I have two more sessions at the local family history centre for a final search of online records. Then I'm set. Hopefully, something will shake loose and I'll find the key to the rest of 'em. I think Ireland is the clue; shame I have to go there, really...
The camera and rechargeable batteries are ready, so I'll have some photos of antiquities to post - maybe while I'm touring and maybe when I return. I'm also hunting up some books. It will take two days to get to Denmark, and thirty-six hours to get back - without an overnight stay anywhere. I'm gonna need a few books to keep me occupied and my record with in-flight movies sucks like a drain. Jennifer Fallon and Kylie Chan are at the top of my list.
sigh It's the little things you've got to watch out for.
My search has reached beyond the atypical databases, that is 1800 and earlier. Yeah, I know, if my ancestors knew I would be hunting them down, they'd be more attentive in their record keeping. And the powers-that-be would have everything I need accessible and free of charge on online.
But that's okay, I'll hunt them down the old fashioned way: going there and looking up the records.
I have two more sessions at the local family history centre for a final search of online records. Then I'm set. Hopefully, something will shake loose and I'll find the key to the rest of 'em. I think Ireland is the clue; shame I have to go there, really...
The camera and rechargeable batteries are ready, so I'll have some photos of antiquities to post - maybe while I'm touring and maybe when I return. I'm also hunting up some books. It will take two days to get to Denmark, and thirty-six hours to get back - without an overnight stay anywhere. I'm gonna need a few books to keep me occupied and my record with in-flight movies sucks like a drain. Jennifer Fallon and Kylie Chan are at the top of my list.
sigh It's the little things you've got to watch out for.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Weeks
Five weeks. Five weeks until I'm flying to the northern hemisphere, to Denmark, Belgium, France, England and Ireland.
When it was months, no problem, but it's weeks, and all too soon, it will be days.
My sister is revving up; her family buzz off in, how did she put it? Oh, yes, thirteen sleeps. And she hassling me about stuff I have to do: money, will, transport, accommodation, the usual. Meh. Most of it's sorted.
But. There's that subtle, vague anticipation. The checking of websites to make sure I have all my research in order for the National Archives in Kew, the obsessive checking of currency exchanges - Kroner, Euros, American dollars and Pounds - thinking about the routes I'll travel...
I'm working up a final check list with things like turning on global roaming for the mobile, wireless internet, making sure there's enough food and medication for the faithful hound, copying all travel documents.
And now that I've got all that out of my system, I can go back to not worrying. It is, after all, five weeks before I go...
When it was months, no problem, but it's weeks, and all too soon, it will be days.
My sister is revving up; her family buzz off in, how did she put it? Oh, yes, thirteen sleeps. And she hassling me about stuff I have to do: money, will, transport, accommodation, the usual. Meh. Most of it's sorted.
But. There's that subtle, vague anticipation. The checking of websites to make sure I have all my research in order for the National Archives in Kew, the obsessive checking of currency exchanges - Kroner, Euros, American dollars and Pounds - thinking about the routes I'll travel...
I'm working up a final check list with things like turning on global roaming for the mobile, wireless internet, making sure there's enough food and medication for the faithful hound, copying all travel documents.
And now that I've got all that out of my system, I can go back to not worrying. It is, after all, five weeks before I go...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Imaginary Friends
A conversation I had with my parental unit today.
Mother: Arthur Clarke isn't the only author who died in their nineties, Andre Norton and Betty Neels were pretty old too.
Me (concentrating on driving): Uh huh.
Mother: There must be something about writing that's less stressful than other jobs.
Me (silently cursing at missing the opportunity to overtake a semi-trailer): Uh huh.
Mother (crosses her arms and scowls): I think it has something to do with all those imaginary friends writers have. Less conflict.
Me: Um...
Mother: Well, writing is a solitary pursuit, you know, and if you know the conversation you're going to have, there's nothing to argue about.
Me: Ah...
Mother: You should get out more; meet some real friends. Then you can write about them.
Me: Oh look, it's been raining...
Imaginary friends. We're supposed to grow out of that when we're quite young. I don't think we ever do; they just mature into more evolved characters in our heads. I also think there's a lot of them and we write their stories down to make room for more. Once we've written about them, they retreat into their little homes and await re-reading.
Those 'friends' are made up from external influences and aspects of people we meet, or read about. They're amorphous beings at first, insubstantial and shadowy, slowly becoming clearer as we add more traits to them. Then, we know them, whether written down on character sheets or compartmentalized in our heads and we're ready to use them.
They might float around for weeks, or years, before they give us the story, but until then, they're vague companions, whispering more information to us.
All we have to do is wait for them.
My mother is right in a way: imaginary friends might surprise you, but they'll never harm you.
Mother: Arthur Clarke isn't the only author who died in their nineties, Andre Norton and Betty Neels were pretty old too.
Me (concentrating on driving): Uh huh.
Mother: There must be something about writing that's less stressful than other jobs.
Me (silently cursing at missing the opportunity to overtake a semi-trailer): Uh huh.
Mother (crosses her arms and scowls): I think it has something to do with all those imaginary friends writers have. Less conflict.
Me: Um...
Mother: Well, writing is a solitary pursuit, you know, and if you know the conversation you're going to have, there's nothing to argue about.
Me: Ah...
Mother: You should get out more; meet some real friends. Then you can write about them.
Me: Oh look, it's been raining...
Imaginary friends. We're supposed to grow out of that when we're quite young. I don't think we ever do; they just mature into more evolved characters in our heads. I also think there's a lot of them and we write their stories down to make room for more. Once we've written about them, they retreat into their little homes and await re-reading.
Those 'friends' are made up from external influences and aspects of people we meet, or read about. They're amorphous beings at first, insubstantial and shadowy, slowly becoming clearer as we add more traits to them. Then, we know them, whether written down on character sheets or compartmentalized in our heads and we're ready to use them.
They might float around for weeks, or years, before they give us the story, but until then, they're vague companions, whispering more information to us.
All we have to do is wait for them.
My mother is right in a way: imaginary friends might surprise you, but they'll never harm you.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Conundrums
The sun is warm, the breeze is cool and Autumn is beginning to show her colours.
I love this time of year. My energy and creativity start to rise, and that's a good thing, because usually, I've written myself into a corner.
Some conundrums remain unsolved. Actually, I have a dozen or so unfinished novels because of corners.
For example, the heroic epic I started oh, years ago where my two heroes were caught by the bad guys and forced to fight in an arena. If they did not, their companions were doomed (note the echo when you say that). I could not, and still can't, think of a way out of the dilemma without introducing an Ex Deus Machina.
Yes, I could delete that part, or change something, but it was important to the story that the heroes find a solution to earn the respect of the people they'd come to try and gain as allies. After failing to find a solution, I set the piece aside. Should I go back to this work, I'll probably wince since I was just beginning to write.
Organic writers run this risk every time they set fingers to keyboards. Plot writers already have it worked out. Damn them! But neither way is easy; one finds solutions while writing, and the other before writing.
These days, I've learned not to do it, or at least avoid a scenario where it might happen. I've also learned to think ahead in the story while writing the current scene. It takes practice, but it's helpful when you're pounding away at the keyboard at warp speed.
Speaking of which, I need to go off and try and get Rhianna Sagan out of the latest mess she's fallen into. Next instalment is up at The Takeaway.
I love this time of year. My energy and creativity start to rise, and that's a good thing, because usually, I've written myself into a corner.
Some conundrums remain unsolved. Actually, I have a dozen or so unfinished novels because of corners.
For example, the heroic epic I started oh, years ago where my two heroes were caught by the bad guys and forced to fight in an arena. If they did not, their companions were doomed (note the echo when you say that). I could not, and still can't, think of a way out of the dilemma without introducing an Ex Deus Machina.
Yes, I could delete that part, or change something, but it was important to the story that the heroes find a solution to earn the respect of the people they'd come to try and gain as allies. After failing to find a solution, I set the piece aside. Should I go back to this work, I'll probably wince since I was just beginning to write.
Organic writers run this risk every time they set fingers to keyboards. Plot writers already have it worked out. Damn them! But neither way is easy; one finds solutions while writing, and the other before writing.
These days, I've learned not to do it, or at least avoid a scenario where it might happen. I've also learned to think ahead in the story while writing the current scene. It takes practice, but it's helpful when you're pounding away at the keyboard at warp speed.
Speaking of which, I need to go off and try and get Rhianna Sagan out of the latest mess she's fallen into. Next instalment is up at The Takeaway.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Equinox
Oh, yeah. Chocolate overload. I full expect a few adolescent spots to break out, but it's better to consume the chocolate before it goes off. (That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!)
And then there are the hot cross buns (with fruit, of course). I love 'em. I think I'm over Mabon - Autumn Equinox in the southern hemisphere. In the north, it's Ostara, the Spring Equinox, though with the current weather it still looks like Winter! How many believed the groundhog back in February?
I think I have room for one last hot cross bun.
Just a note of trivia: The church works out when Easter - a Christian holiday - is by the first full moon of the northern Spring - a pagan holiday. Just another example of Christianity using paganism for it's own use.
I mean, the guy allegedly died on a particular day, how can that change so frequently? Christmas never changes, so I'm curious about that. I'm just askin', you know?
And then there are the hot cross buns (with fruit, of course). I love 'em. I think I'm over Mabon - Autumn Equinox in the southern hemisphere. In the north, it's Ostara, the Spring Equinox, though with the current weather it still looks like Winter! How many believed the groundhog back in February?
I think I have room for one last hot cross bun.
Just a note of trivia: The church works out when Easter - a Christian holiday - is by the first full moon of the northern Spring - a pagan holiday. Just another example of Christianity using paganism for it's own use.
I mean, the guy allegedly died on a particular day, how can that change so frequently? Christmas never changes, so I'm curious about that. I'm just askin', you know?
Friday, March 21, 2008
Arthur C. Clarke
And so passes one of the great icons of Science Fiction writing.
This is the guy who wrote about satellite's decades before the first one took off, who wrote non-fiction as well as tapping into his vast imagination for the pleasure of those who read his books.
Better yet, he brought science to the average reader; and while some of his works are metaphysical, all provoked conversation and thought.
Sadly, in his latter years, he wasn't as erudite. I saw him at CanCon in 2006 via video link from Sri Lanka. His answers were vague and all credit to the interviewers for holding it together with short monologues before asking the next question.
His legacy is to have encouraged a spectrum of new writers in the genre, to expand the perception of what the future could hold for us, to open closed minds to the concept that we are not alone in the universe.
To be remembered, to be - willing or not - a mentor to generations of sci-fi writers... what better way to impact society than to encourage the breaking of boundaries, to demonstrate there is no limit to what an imagination can create, or what humans can achieve.
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Arthur C. Clarke
This is the guy who wrote about satellite's decades before the first one took off, who wrote non-fiction as well as tapping into his vast imagination for the pleasure of those who read his books.
Better yet, he brought science to the average reader; and while some of his works are metaphysical, all provoked conversation and thought.
Sadly, in his latter years, he wasn't as erudite. I saw him at CanCon in 2006 via video link from Sri Lanka. His answers were vague and all credit to the interviewers for holding it together with short monologues before asking the next question.
His legacy is to have encouraged a spectrum of new writers in the genre, to expand the perception of what the future could hold for us, to open closed minds to the concept that we are not alone in the universe.
To be remembered, to be - willing or not - a mentor to generations of sci-fi writers... what better way to impact society than to encourage the breaking of boundaries, to demonstrate there is no limit to what an imagination can create, or what humans can achieve.
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." Arthur C. Clarke
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Obamaring?
A most curious thing.
I went to a political meeting last night to hear what the group had been up to.
Turns out, it was mostly a discussion on how to raise funds for the coming campaign.
One attendee spoke about the current U.S. Presidential campaign and raised this issue:
"Well, Hilary Clinton raised $US5 million in a week from corporate donors. But Obama raised much, much more from family groups. I think we should start Obamaring."
Obamaring?
Indeed. We all understood it to mean we should try the citizenry for our funding rather than business groups. Get the local people, individuals, involved.
My mother has a saying: "Many a mickle makes a muckle." Meaning, that every penny counts towards a pound. If fifty percent of the locals donated small change, we'd soon have a nice tidy pile to match the corporate donors of the Big Evil Counsellors.
But... Obamaring? Could this be a new word that will become a part of everyday speech?
I went to a political meeting last night to hear what the group had been up to.
Turns out, it was mostly a discussion on how to raise funds for the coming campaign.
One attendee spoke about the current U.S. Presidential campaign and raised this issue:
"Well, Hilary Clinton raised $US5 million in a week from corporate donors. But Obama raised much, much more from family groups. I think we should start Obamaring."
Obamaring?
Indeed. We all understood it to mean we should try the citizenry for our funding rather than business groups. Get the local people, individuals, involved.
My mother has a saying: "Many a mickle makes a muckle." Meaning, that every penny counts towards a pound. If fifty percent of the locals donated small change, we'd soon have a nice tidy pile to match the corporate donors of the Big Evil Counsellors.
But... Obamaring? Could this be a new word that will become a part of everyday speech?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
HMAS Sydney
Yesterday, the Prime Minister and the Finding Sydney Foundation announced the final resting place of the HMAS Sydney had been found twelve nautical miles from the wreck of the German raider Kormoran.
The location of the German ship caused a stir of excitement around the country and the hope that the Sydney would be located soon. Now, the speculation is the two ships were discovered shortly after one another.
Why the delay in announcing HMAS Sydney's location when it is clearly the more valuable to Australians? Apparently, they wanted to make absolutely sure it was the right ship.
I wonder, though, if it wasn't more important to keep quiet until HMAS Sydney was found then announce its discovery first, then Kormoran.
For me, I'll be interested in seeing the photographs due to be taken this week of the ship. There's been 66 years of controversy as to the damage both ships took before sinking.
Of the 646 crew of the Sydney, only two shipmates were ever found: one body washed up on Christmas Island, and the other, Eric Button, was ill with the mumps and couldn't sail. Of the ship itself, a life raft and life jacket were found and they are in the Australian War Memorial.
The location of the German ship caused a stir of excitement around the country and the hope that the Sydney would be located soon. Now, the speculation is the two ships were discovered shortly after one another.
Why the delay in announcing HMAS Sydney's location when it is clearly the more valuable to Australians? Apparently, they wanted to make absolutely sure it was the right ship.
I wonder, though, if it wasn't more important to keep quiet until HMAS Sydney was found then announce its discovery first, then Kormoran.
For me, I'll be interested in seeing the photographs due to be taken this week of the ship. There's been 66 years of controversy as to the damage both ships took before sinking.
Of the 646 crew of the Sydney, only two shipmates were ever found: one body washed up on Christmas Island, and the other, Eric Button, was ill with the mumps and couldn't sail. Of the ship itself, a life raft and life jacket were found and they are in the Australian War Memorial.
Monday, March 17, 2008
St Patrick
St Patrick’s Day celebrates the bringing of Christianity to the Irish, but to some, it’s not a day to be cheery about.
What many people don’t know is that St Patrick brought about the destruction of an old religion: Paganism in Ireland.
Patrick was born in Roman Britain, but enslaved and sent to Ireland. He escaped and began training as a Catholic priest in France.
He then set about converting the Pagans of Ireland to the new faith.
The story of his banishment of the snakes doesn’t refer to the reptile, but to the Druids and pagans of Ireland. The snake is a symbol of the Pagans.
What's of more interest, is that he used Pagan ways to do it. For example, he used the three leaf clover (Shamrock) - another symbol of paganism - to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost to teach about the Holy Trinity. To pagans, it represents the three faces of the Goddess: maiden, mother and crone.
And he used cruel 'magic', but justified it as the only way to bring the pagans into christianity: In his struggle to discredit the Druid elders and gain the confidence and later the souls of the Irish population, he was (in his own words) forced to "curse their fertile lands, so that they became dreary bogs; to curse their rivers, so that they produced no fish; to curse their very kettles, so that with no amount of fire and patience could they ever be made to boil; and as a last resort, to curse the Druids themselves, so that the earth opened and swallowed them up." The Sacred Fire.com
In the pagan calendar, Ostara - the Spring Equinox - arrives on March 21 (not co-incidentally, Good Friday). Legend also has it that Patrick arrived on Tar Hill and lit the ritual fire for Ostara before the Druids could get there; a desecration of the pagan religion.
The deliberate timing of this event, and others throughout the Christian calendar was designed to subvert the pagan religion by placing Christian holidays on or near important pagan days of celebration. It also served to demonize paganism. Christmas is also the Summer Equinox, or Yule, Halloween is Samhain, for example.
Yet... paganism is a religion of peace and balance with nature. Patrick's brutal suppression of Celtic pagans and was a part of future oppression perpetrated by a patriarchal organisation against a matriarchal organisation and those who would not submit.
So, no St Patrick's Day celebrating in this household. Paganism has been around for thousands of years; it was here before Christianity, and will survive Christianity.
What many people don’t know is that St Patrick brought about the destruction of an old religion: Paganism in Ireland.
Patrick was born in Roman Britain, but enslaved and sent to Ireland. He escaped and began training as a Catholic priest in France.
He then set about converting the Pagans of Ireland to the new faith.
The story of his banishment of the snakes doesn’t refer to the reptile, but to the Druids and pagans of Ireland. The snake is a symbol of the Pagans.
What's of more interest, is that he used Pagan ways to do it. For example, he used the three leaf clover (Shamrock) - another symbol of paganism - to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost to teach about the Holy Trinity. To pagans, it represents the three faces of the Goddess: maiden, mother and crone.
And he used cruel 'magic', but justified it as the only way to bring the pagans into christianity: In his struggle to discredit the Druid elders and gain the confidence and later the souls of the Irish population, he was (in his own words) forced to "curse their fertile lands, so that they became dreary bogs; to curse their rivers, so that they produced no fish; to curse their very kettles, so that with no amount of fire and patience could they ever be made to boil; and as a last resort, to curse the Druids themselves, so that the earth opened and swallowed them up." The Sacred Fire.com
In the pagan calendar, Ostara - the Spring Equinox - arrives on March 21 (not co-incidentally, Good Friday). Legend also has it that Patrick arrived on Tar Hill and lit the ritual fire for Ostara before the Druids could get there; a desecration of the pagan religion.
The deliberate timing of this event, and others throughout the Christian calendar was designed to subvert the pagan religion by placing Christian holidays on or near important pagan days of celebration. It also served to demonize paganism. Christmas is also the Summer Equinox, or Yule, Halloween is Samhain, for example.
Yet... paganism is a religion of peace and balance with nature. Patrick's brutal suppression of Celtic pagans and was a part of future oppression perpetrated by a patriarchal organisation against a matriarchal organisation and those who would not submit.
So, no St Patrick's Day celebrating in this household. Paganism has been around for thousands of years; it was here before Christianity, and will survive Christianity.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Raider Found
For more than sixty years the resting place of two ships remained a mystery. Now, part of that mystery has been solved with the discovery of one of the ships.
On 17 November 1941, HMAS Sydney, a light cruiser, headed north up the coast of Western Australia on escort duty and was supposed to return. She was never heard from again.
The German armed raider, Kormoran was also in area, though her profile had been changed to look like a freighter and flew a Dutch flag.
As the Sydney approached - on or about the 19th of November - she asked for identification which the Germans deliberately muddled. As the range finders zeroed in on the light cruiser, the Captain ordered the German flag raised and all guns to fire.
Devastating fire poured into the Sydney, but the rear turret managed to fire back, hitting the Kormoran before veering away.
That shot went through Kormoran's funnel and poured ignited diesel into the engine room.
HMAS Sydney turned south while the Kormoran still fired at her until out of range.
Hours later, Kormoran's electrical system went out and they could no longer fight the fire. The Captain ordered the ship abandoned. The last life boat left before midnight and just over an hour later, the armed merchant cruiser, Kormoran blew up and sank with the help of scuttling charges.
Of HMAS Sydney and her crew, nothing was ever heard.
Three hundred survivors from the Kormoran were picked up several days later and, without any problem, told the story to their captors.
Well, today, it's been announced that the wreck of the Kormoran has been found. It's hoped that finding HMAS Sydney will now be an easier task.
For sixty years, various groups have searched for the ship and what happened to her. It is one of our great naval mysteries. Now, the search can narrow and one day soon, we may know the light cruiser's final resting place.
Both ships, once found, will be treated with the utmost respect and protected as War Graves.
The story of that day can be found here.
On 17 November 1941, HMAS Sydney, a light cruiser, headed north up the coast of Western Australia on escort duty and was supposed to return. She was never heard from again.
The German armed raider, Kormoran was also in area, though her profile had been changed to look like a freighter and flew a Dutch flag.
As the Sydney approached - on or about the 19th of November - she asked for identification which the Germans deliberately muddled. As the range finders zeroed in on the light cruiser, the Captain ordered the German flag raised and all guns to fire.
Devastating fire poured into the Sydney, but the rear turret managed to fire back, hitting the Kormoran before veering away.
That shot went through Kormoran's funnel and poured ignited diesel into the engine room.
HMAS Sydney turned south while the Kormoran still fired at her until out of range.
Hours later, Kormoran's electrical system went out and they could no longer fight the fire. The Captain ordered the ship abandoned. The last life boat left before midnight and just over an hour later, the armed merchant cruiser, Kormoran blew up and sank with the help of scuttling charges.
Of HMAS Sydney and her crew, nothing was ever heard.
Three hundred survivors from the Kormoran were picked up several days later and, without any problem, told the story to their captors.
Well, today, it's been announced that the wreck of the Kormoran has been found. It's hoped that finding HMAS Sydney will now be an easier task.
For sixty years, various groups have searched for the ship and what happened to her. It is one of our great naval mysteries. Now, the search can narrow and one day soon, we may know the light cruiser's final resting place.
Both ships, once found, will be treated with the utmost respect and protected as War Graves.
The story of that day can be found here.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Gun culture
I often wonder at the suitability of some news items, especially those coming in from the U.S. I can't get behind the almost excited glee of deadly car chases, suspect arrests or endlessly dissecting shootings.
I'd prefer if the reporters gave the story and moved on, unless they have something critical to say.
We don't show live car chases, or arrests, or have such gun violence here in Australia, but I guess watching all those stories on Fox or CNN had to have some affect. So it grieves me to see this, with the headline: "Police Shootout Man Planned Mall Massacre".
Worse, he was aiming for a "U.S. Style" massacre and had the ammunition to do it.
The story has a happy ending after the man was intercepted by police. But this is... this doesn't happen here.
We live in a global community where any information is available at any time, to any one. And yeah, there are some nutters out there who focus on how cool guns are. (If I sound pissy, check LKH's blog on how she thinks a gun is 'safe' just because it's unloaded).
But this is an argument that I could rant about for days. It's one of my own personal buttons. I'll stop now and hope it will be years down the track before somebody else picks up a handgun and decides it'll be fun to be just like an American gunman.
I'd prefer if the reporters gave the story and moved on, unless they have something critical to say.
We don't show live car chases, or arrests, or have such gun violence here in Australia, but I guess watching all those stories on Fox or CNN had to have some affect. So it grieves me to see this, with the headline: "Police Shootout Man Planned Mall Massacre".
Worse, he was aiming for a "U.S. Style" massacre and had the ammunition to do it.
The story has a happy ending after the man was intercepted by police. But this is... this doesn't happen here.
We live in a global community where any information is available at any time, to any one. And yeah, there are some nutters out there who focus on how cool guns are. (If I sound pissy, check LKH's blog on how she thinks a gun is 'safe' just because it's unloaded).
But this is an argument that I could rant about for days. It's one of my own personal buttons. I'll stop now and hope it will be years down the track before somebody else picks up a handgun and decides it'll be fun to be just like an American gunman.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The Hard Truth
The continuing sah-gah of Rhianna Sagan, bounty hunter, is up at The Takeaway.
Not much else is happening around the traps and I don't feel like lifting my head out of the book I'm reading to search the 'net for something to comment on.
Hmmm.... still in a pissy mood, I see...
Not much else is happening around the traps and I don't feel like lifting my head out of the book I'm reading to search the 'net for something to comment on.
Hmmm.... still in a pissy mood, I see...
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
More sins
So rumour has it seven deadly sins aren't enough; the world needs more to reign in excesses.
According to this item and others I've seen, the sins need be less about individual sin and more about global sin.
Monsignor Gianfranco Girotti, who heads the Catholic Church's thought police... um... the 'body that issues decisions on matters of conscience'... whatever..., thinks the sins should 'take into account modern developments such as genetic modification, experiments on humans, pollution, causing social injustice, causing poverty, taking drugs and obscene wealth.
What's that? Obscene wealth? From one of the - if not the - richest organisations in the world today? Hip-hip-hypocrasy Sorry, the sneeze got away from me.
Let's see:
genetic modification - so it will be a sin for scientists to modify crops so they can grow in drought-stricken areas to feed the starving.
experiments on humans - hmmm, any medicine used on a human for the first time is experimentation, so no new medicines.
pollution - is more a corporate problem, but... since we pollute the air around us with expelled gas, blow germs out our nose and mouth, defecate and urinate, vomit, this is going to be a tough one. But I'm being facetious. You cannot live without polluting, even if it's a small amount.
causing social injustice - again, one for hypocrisy given the oppression of the church throughout history and today by denying the basic human right to decide how many children a woman should have, or deny the right of priests to have children (yeah, we know they do, but they get into trouble for it). That doesn't even touch on the misogynistic attitude of not allowing women to become priests or teaching the poorly educated to trust only in an archaic book written just under two thousand years ago.
causing poverty - yet another one for the church given devoutly religious people will donate to the church and then worry about feeding the family. How many towns are there with amazing churches and yet kids running around the dirt streets wearing rags?
taking drugs - I'm going to hazard a guess here and say illegal drugs, because we wouldn't want the church to be responsible for the deaths of thousands who didn't take their medicine. And having seen the result of illegal drug taking, I don't have a problem with this.
obscene wealth - if you earned it, why can't you keep it? The church, as an institution, is exceptionally wealthy. And when you consider how they came to horde such wealth, why are they bitching now? If Warren Buffet can give money to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, why not a nice large swodge from the church? Oh, and does this mean Warran, Bill and Melinda are exempt from this sin since they're using their wealth for good? Can you imagine the conversation? "Forgive me father for I have sinned. I earned another billion this year." "You must send the money out to those in need, like the church. Ten Hail Marys. Go, and sin no more." "But if I do that, thousands of employees will be out of a job and descend into poverty." "Another sin. My son, you are going to hell." "Umm... can I have a handbasket?"
The original Seven Deadly Sins - envy, pride, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth - are enough and cover these. The proposed new ones will only cause more problems than it solves, ie, since no-one can avoid polluting, everyone is going to hell - or the Catholic version of it.
None of them are going to change the world; in fact, if they come to pass, I think more - not less - people will be looking for a new religion.
According to this item and others I've seen, the sins need be less about individual sin and more about global sin.
Monsignor Gianfranco Girotti, who heads the Catholic Church's thought police... um... the 'body that issues decisions on matters of conscience'... whatever..., thinks the sins should 'take into account modern developments such as genetic modification, experiments on humans, pollution, causing social injustice, causing poverty, taking drugs and obscene wealth.
What's that? Obscene wealth? From one of the - if not the - richest organisations in the world today? Hip-hip-hypocrasy Sorry, the sneeze got away from me.
Let's see:
genetic modification - so it will be a sin for scientists to modify crops so they can grow in drought-stricken areas to feed the starving.
experiments on humans - hmmm, any medicine used on a human for the first time is experimentation, so no new medicines.
pollution - is more a corporate problem, but... since we pollute the air around us with expelled gas, blow germs out our nose and mouth, defecate and urinate, vomit, this is going to be a tough one. But I'm being facetious. You cannot live without polluting, even if it's a small amount.
causing social injustice - again, one for hypocrisy given the oppression of the church throughout history and today by denying the basic human right to decide how many children a woman should have, or deny the right of priests to have children (yeah, we know they do, but they get into trouble for it). That doesn't even touch on the misogynistic attitude of not allowing women to become priests or teaching the poorly educated to trust only in an archaic book written just under two thousand years ago.
causing poverty - yet another one for the church given devoutly religious people will donate to the church and then worry about feeding the family. How many towns are there with amazing churches and yet kids running around the dirt streets wearing rags?
taking drugs - I'm going to hazard a guess here and say illegal drugs, because we wouldn't want the church to be responsible for the deaths of thousands who didn't take their medicine. And having seen the result of illegal drug taking, I don't have a problem with this.
obscene wealth - if you earned it, why can't you keep it? The church, as an institution, is exceptionally wealthy. And when you consider how they came to horde such wealth, why are they bitching now? If Warren Buffet can give money to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, why not a nice large swodge from the church? Oh, and does this mean Warran, Bill and Melinda are exempt from this sin since they're using their wealth for good? Can you imagine the conversation? "Forgive me father for I have sinned. I earned another billion this year." "You must send the money out to those in need, like the church. Ten Hail Marys. Go, and sin no more." "But if I do that, thousands of employees will be out of a job and descend into poverty." "Another sin. My son, you are going to hell." "Umm... can I have a handbasket?"
The original Seven Deadly Sins - envy, pride, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth - are enough and cover these. The proposed new ones will only cause more problems than it solves, ie, since no-one can avoid polluting, everyone is going to hell - or the Catholic version of it.
None of them are going to change the world; in fact, if they come to pass, I think more - not less - people will be looking for a new religion.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Dust: Bite
Well... harumph! Another one bites the dust.
Noctem Aeternus Magazine is shutting down after one issue. Creator, Michael Knost, cites personal issues - new baby on the way, new house, not enough subscribers - as the reason for the closure.
And that's a shame. Then again, online magazines are popping up and closing down all the time, but I thought this one would be different; I'm sure Michael thought so too.
I found the stories curious in that two were about failure when battling against the odds, rather than success - or survival. It's a topic that is rarely explored in fiction.
At least we still have Ralan to find our markets and to let us know when another magazine has gone belly up.
Noctem Aeternus Magazine is shutting down after one issue. Creator, Michael Knost, cites personal issues - new baby on the way, new house, not enough subscribers - as the reason for the closure.
And that's a shame. Then again, online magazines are popping up and closing down all the time, but I thought this one would be different; I'm sure Michael thought so too.
I found the stories curious in that two were about failure when battling against the odds, rather than success - or survival. It's a topic that is rarely explored in fiction.
At least we still have Ralan to find our markets and to let us know when another magazine has gone belly up.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
In the mood
Family stuff is taken care of, now I can get back to the 'it's all about me' blog.
And I have to say, I've finally worked out why I've felt under a malaise. You know the feeling? I don' wanna write, I don' wanna edit, I don' wanna do nuthin' but veg in front of the teev.
It's been a month since I've read a good book. Oh, I've looked at a few, read a number of chapters of books I know are good, but I've been distracted. By what? I have no idea. It's been like I'm just not in the mood for those books. And I really hate that, because it taints the reading when I am in the mood. I'm not going to name names - that would be unfair.
Still, it's affecting my writing; not ideas, they're still roaming around like lost sheep searching for home, but the actual sitting down and writing part. I get a good deal of motivation from reading, as well as the entertainment and research value. A good book will put you in the mood; a great book will have you reaching for the pen and any scrap of paper.
I guess it's part of being a writer to sit down and do the job, even when you don't want to. And I've had this before, I just haven't 'fessed up to it. Having to write the next instalment will help; once I make a promise, I stick to it. It's why I rarely make promises.
I'm going off to read a few favourites: Elizabeth Moon and Tanya Huff. I think that's all the time I'll have before Wednesday's deadline.
And I have to say, I've finally worked out why I've felt under a malaise. You know the feeling? I don' wanna write, I don' wanna edit, I don' wanna do nuthin' but veg in front of the teev.
It's been a month since I've read a good book. Oh, I've looked at a few, read a number of chapters of books I know are good, but I've been distracted. By what? I have no idea. It's been like I'm just not in the mood for those books. And I really hate that, because it taints the reading when I am in the mood. I'm not going to name names - that would be unfair.
Still, it's affecting my writing; not ideas, they're still roaming around like lost sheep searching for home, but the actual sitting down and writing part. I get a good deal of motivation from reading, as well as the entertainment and research value. A good book will put you in the mood; a great book will have you reaching for the pen and any scrap of paper.
I guess it's part of being a writer to sit down and do the job, even when you don't want to. And I've had this before, I just haven't 'fessed up to it. Having to write the next instalment will help; once I make a promise, I stick to it. It's why I rarely make promises.
I'm going off to read a few favourites: Elizabeth Moon and Tanya Huff. I think that's all the time I'll have before Wednesday's deadline.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Serial offender
For the past week, I've been thinking about the story I posted on the Takeaway and thought it unfinished; I had to write more.
Sometimes, short stories don't want to be kept to a minimum, they haunt you, and taunt you and dare you. Hard Bounty isn't the first story to do this to me, nor will it be the last.
I've written a number of books from short stories I wrote for the Story-a-day marathon over at Forward Motion. It's a marathon that's invaluable to me and I'll miss while I'm overseas.
Anyway, I thought I'd do the serial thing. I remember as a kid reading magazines that had serialisations in them. I'd be disappointed - of course - that it continued the next week... Okay... I confess... They were comics, but the principle is the same.
What's different is that I'll be doing this week-to-week; not much chance of revision, but it is an excellent lesson on being concise while packing as much in as possible. Good books are roller coasters; high points and low points, action-filled and resting.
I have to keep the story going, yes, but also include some back story from the previous week's instalment and still keep under a three thousand word limit.
All this is going to be a challenge, but one I hope will improve my writing (and I'm sure someone will pick me up on boo-boos; they are welcome, encouraged to do so).
So: do I simply post an instalment each week and dump the singular short stories? Or do I do both and keep the short story timetable, have two posts every third Wednesday?
Sometimes, short stories don't want to be kept to a minimum, they haunt you, and taunt you and dare you. Hard Bounty isn't the first story to do this to me, nor will it be the last.
I've written a number of books from short stories I wrote for the Story-a-day marathon over at Forward Motion. It's a marathon that's invaluable to me and I'll miss while I'm overseas.
Anyway, I thought I'd do the serial thing. I remember as a kid reading magazines that had serialisations in them. I'd be disappointed - of course - that it continued the next week... Okay... I confess... They were comics, but the principle is the same.
What's different is that I'll be doing this week-to-week; not much chance of revision, but it is an excellent lesson on being concise while packing as much in as possible. Good books are roller coasters; high points and low points, action-filled and resting.
I have to keep the story going, yes, but also include some back story from the previous week's instalment and still keep under a three thousand word limit.
All this is going to be a challenge, but one I hope will improve my writing (and I'm sure someone will pick me up on boo-boos; they are welcome, encouraged to do so).
So: do I simply post an instalment each week and dump the singular short stories? Or do I do both and keep the short story timetable, have two posts every third Wednesday?
Monday, March 03, 2008
That bitch
It sucks. It all sucks like a vacuum.
Huh? What?
Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.
Ummmm...
They're flat, bland, uninteresting. In other words, it's all a load of crap.
You're not reading it right.
Dudette, honey-bunch, darling-sugah-pop. I'm only saying this because I care about you. I'm reading as you're writing. I'm in your head; of course I'm reading it right.
So... it doesn't work for you?
Not on any level. You should try something new, like, oh say, getting a real job.
Now you're being mean. I love writing and...
Yes, but it's never any good is it.
I've written a lot, though and...
Give it up, sweet-cheeks. Dump this crap. After all that work, don't put yourself through this again. You're wasting your time, my time and anyone else's time by posting this bilge. It's time to do something else. You'll never write anything of worth and I hate to see you beat your head against a brick wall like this.
Maybe if I write something new... something different, another genre perhaps...
* * *
Ah, the inner critic. Everyone has that bitch; that voice in your head undermining your craft. It's sourced in childhood when it seemed everything you did was smirked at or you were patted on the head, condescended to. It didn't have to be that darling little story you wrote when you were ten, the sweet little picture you painted at aged six that looked nothing like the object and everyone had an opinion.
"Oh, well, it's just a phase..." "She'll/He'll grow out of it." "Talent? Of course, but it takes more than that, doesn't it, to make a living."
Parents are excellent at explaining embarrassing gaffes their children inadvertently perpetrate on them. But the intent stays with the child, as if creativity isn't as important as one day finding a well-paid real job. As if mediocrity is more important than finding your own way.
For my siblings and I, it was higher than average IQs. "An A-? Well, we're sure you'll do better next time. We know you have the potential." "Nearly an A? Nearly isn't good enough." Wow, that still rings in my head today. So dismissive and created in us the overwhelming urge to be perfect.
It also creates the inner critic, the one that says 'nearly isn't good enough' that any mistake is catastrophic, an embarrassment, a crushing defeat. It can also block any attempt to succeed, because if it ain't perfect, or award winning, or [insert list here], it's worthless.
So, the only solution is to Kill That Bitch:
It sucks. It all sucks like a vacuum.
Huh? What?
Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.
Lucky for me then, that I'm not writing songs, or that I'm writing for you.
Sure you are. Without me, you'd...
Have a much more peaceful life. Less stress, more creativity, more success, be happier.
Nah... I'm here to protect you from failure, from embarr...
From getting on with it, from listening to the muse, from taking con-structive - rather than de-structive - criticism and making my work better. So piss off, would you.
You don't mean that.
Yes. I do.
I'll be back; you know I will.
I know that, but you'll get the same comment.
Oh? And what's that O Great Sage?
My fingers in my ears going "La-la-la-la, I'm not listening!"
Yeah... LA-LA-LA-LA... Hey! LA-LA-LA-LA... I'm a part of you; you can't... LA-LA-LA-LA...
And the next time you show up, I'll introduce to mah liddle friend: The Inner Editor!
You wouldn't dare! Damn you, TIE!!!!
Huh? What?
Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.
Ummmm...
They're flat, bland, uninteresting. In other words, it's all a load of crap.
You're not reading it right.
Dudette, honey-bunch, darling-sugah-pop. I'm only saying this because I care about you. I'm reading as you're writing. I'm in your head; of course I'm reading it right.
So... it doesn't work for you?
Not on any level. You should try something new, like, oh say, getting a real job.
Now you're being mean. I love writing and...
Yes, but it's never any good is it.
I've written a lot, though and...
Give it up, sweet-cheeks. Dump this crap. After all that work, don't put yourself through this again. You're wasting your time, my time and anyone else's time by posting this bilge. It's time to do something else. You'll never write anything of worth and I hate to see you beat your head against a brick wall like this.
Maybe if I write something new... something different, another genre perhaps...
* * *
Ah, the inner critic. Everyone has that bitch; that voice in your head undermining your craft. It's sourced in childhood when it seemed everything you did was smirked at or you were patted on the head, condescended to. It didn't have to be that darling little story you wrote when you were ten, the sweet little picture you painted at aged six that looked nothing like the object and everyone had an opinion.
"Oh, well, it's just a phase..." "She'll/He'll grow out of it." "Talent? Of course, but it takes more than that, doesn't it, to make a living."
Parents are excellent at explaining embarrassing gaffes their children inadvertently perpetrate on them. But the intent stays with the child, as if creativity isn't as important as one day finding a well-paid real job. As if mediocrity is more important than finding your own way.
For my siblings and I, it was higher than average IQs. "An A-? Well, we're sure you'll do better next time. We know you have the potential." "Nearly an A? Nearly isn't good enough." Wow, that still rings in my head today. So dismissive and created in us the overwhelming urge to be perfect.
It also creates the inner critic, the one that says 'nearly isn't good enough' that any mistake is catastrophic, an embarrassment, a crushing defeat. It can also block any attempt to succeed, because if it ain't perfect, or award winning, or [insert list here], it's worthless.
So, the only solution is to Kill That Bitch:
It sucks. It all sucks like a vacuum.
Huh? What?
Your words. They ain't singing to me, babe.
Lucky for me then, that I'm not writing songs, or that I'm writing for you.
Sure you are. Without me, you'd...
Have a much more peaceful life. Less stress, more creativity, more success, be happier.
Nah... I'm here to protect you from failure, from embarr...
From getting on with it, from listening to the muse, from taking con-structive - rather than de-structive - criticism and making my work better. So piss off, would you.
You don't mean that.
Yes. I do.
I'll be back; you know I will.
I know that, but you'll get the same comment.
Oh? And what's that O Great Sage?
My fingers in my ears going "La-la-la-la, I'm not listening!"
Yeah... LA-LA-LA-LA... Hey! LA-LA-LA-LA... I'm a part of you; you can't... LA-LA-LA-LA...
And the next time you show up, I'll introduce to mah liddle friend: The Inner Editor!
You wouldn't dare! Damn you, TIE!!!!
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Noctem Aeternus
It's a chilly end to Summer and a nippy start to Autumn, which I figure means a cold Winter, just as I like 'em.
Anyway, I was reading Sci Fi Weekly - as you do - and came across a rarity: A free fiction magazine. Noctem Aeternus is a new online horror magazine by Michael Knost.
In an interview with Sci Fi Weekly editor and publisher of the magazine, Michael Knost, says: "I wanted to make this project something to help readers introduce fiction reading to children and teens; therefore, I wanted to make it available to all fiction readers at no cost."
Advertising will pay for the production of the magazine.
I've downloaded my copy and it's interesting; not for everyone, but it does pay the authors, which can only be a plus.
The stories are well-written and have messages - some good, some not so good.
If you're interested in reading a magazine, but not ready to sign up, I'll send you a copy - I have permission from the magazine to spread the word, so that's what I'm doing. Send an e-mail for the first edition.
Anyway, I was reading Sci Fi Weekly - as you do - and came across a rarity: A free fiction magazine. Noctem Aeternus is a new online horror magazine by Michael Knost.
In an interview with Sci Fi Weekly editor and publisher of the magazine, Michael Knost, says: "I wanted to make this project something to help readers introduce fiction reading to children and teens; therefore, I wanted to make it available to all fiction readers at no cost."
Advertising will pay for the production of the magazine.
I've downloaded my copy and it's interesting; not for everyone, but it does pay the authors, which can only be a plus.
The stories are well-written and have messages - some good, some not so good.
If you're interested in reading a magazine, but not ready to sign up, I'll send you a copy - I have permission from the magazine to spread the word, so that's what I'm doing. Send an e-mail for the first edition.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Booom!
Had a storm come through at about 5.00am this morning. Lighting, thunder, rain, a weird buzzing...
After a couple of hours of boom, crash, flash, buzz, I got up. No power. Not a spark to be seen anywhere in the street.
Time to break out the camp stove. It was so overcast and rainy, I lit a couple of candles - thankfully, there were no mirrors; I'm not the most stunning of creatures first thing in the morning - and set about making a cuppa tea out on the balcony.
So I'm sitting there, watching the cars go by, identifying the make and models (something I did while growing up on a Navy base with ships and planes) and my eyes follow a rather natty Subaru Impreza and...
BANG! Shower of yellow sparks.
As I watched, the transformer attached to a power pole down the street exploded. Definitely a wow moment, and was the source of the odd buzzing noise.
Of course, we've been without power for a few hours, but... the sight of that transformer blowing, well, it will be useful I think.
I don't know what caused it; the last time I was around one that went bang, a magpie landed on the thing and following the bang a mushroom cloud rose while the body fell to earth - and that was some twenty years ago.
Some things stay memorable.
After a couple of hours of boom, crash, flash, buzz, I got up. No power. Not a spark to be seen anywhere in the street.
Time to break out the camp stove. It was so overcast and rainy, I lit a couple of candles - thankfully, there were no mirrors; I'm not the most stunning of creatures first thing in the morning - and set about making a cuppa tea out on the balcony.
So I'm sitting there, watching the cars go by, identifying the make and models (something I did while growing up on a Navy base with ships and planes) and my eyes follow a rather natty Subaru Impreza and...
BANG! Shower of yellow sparks.
As I watched, the transformer attached to a power pole down the street exploded. Definitely a wow moment, and was the source of the odd buzzing noise.
Of course, we've been without power for a few hours, but... the sight of that transformer blowing, well, it will be useful I think.
I don't know what caused it; the last time I was around one that went bang, a magpie landed on the thing and following the bang a mushroom cloud rose while the body fell to earth - and that was some twenty years ago.
Some things stay memorable.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Every time...
I wanted to post something this week, the severe thunderstorm warning went off. Of course, Murphy's Law states that if you don't think it's going to be too bad, just wait until you're in the middle of posting something!
Life's funny like that; no point in messin' wi' it.
No big, I got a story done on the laptop, though that's another issue altogether, as in TV + laptop = not a lot of work done.
anyway, it's on time, for which I'm thankful. Hard Bounty is over at the Takeaway.
Life's funny like that; no point in messin' wi' it.
No big, I got a story done on the laptop, though that's another issue altogether, as in TV + laptop = not a lot of work done.
anyway, it's on time, for which I'm thankful. Hard Bounty is over at the Takeaway.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Dis... traction
The words are coming slowly in this new enterprise.
I think I know what's wrong, and it's not the story: it's... rugby season. It's also cricket finals time, and since I love my sport, everything else has slowed to a crawl - book included.
Sure, I could turn the damned TV off, read the results tomorrow in the newspaper, but... no, actually, I couldn't. You only get to see something for the first time once. Highlights don't give you that adrenalin charge, that "Oohh, so close!" moment.
Yes, indeed, while I'm not writing, I like to watch what other people are doing, be it sport or in fiction or where-ever; here lies inspiration.
If you constantly write, you'll burn out and compose unmitigated and unforgivable trash. It could be fixed with hard work, but to me,that defeats the purpose.
You have to focus on writing, on creating the scenes in your head and then transfer them on to the page. The more concentration you use, the better the first draft will be.
This weblog, for example, is mostly written off the top of my head. I'm sure there are mistakes - no, I guarantee there are mistakes. But I'm not precious about it because some days, I struggle with what to write about. It's important, but not as important as getting a 120,000 word book as close to right as I can get it.
A couple of hundred words is child's play to write or edit compared with 120k.
So, I should get back to it, huh. There's a break in the cricket and the Waratahs have gone down to the Chiefs, damn it. But another game is about to start and the Indians are about to bat. Gotta go!
I think I know what's wrong, and it's not the story: it's... rugby season. It's also cricket finals time, and since I love my sport, everything else has slowed to a crawl - book included.
Sure, I could turn the damned TV off, read the results tomorrow in the newspaper, but... no, actually, I couldn't. You only get to see something for the first time once. Highlights don't give you that adrenalin charge, that "Oohh, so close!" moment.
Yes, indeed, while I'm not writing, I like to watch what other people are doing, be it sport or in fiction or where-ever; here lies inspiration.
If you constantly write, you'll burn out and compose unmitigated and unforgivable trash. It could be fixed with hard work, but to me,that defeats the purpose.
You have to focus on writing, on creating the scenes in your head and then transfer them on to the page. The more concentration you use, the better the first draft will be.
This weblog, for example, is mostly written off the top of my head. I'm sure there are mistakes - no, I guarantee there are mistakes. But I'm not precious about it because some days, I struggle with what to write about. It's important, but not as important as getting a 120,000 word book as close to right as I can get it.
A couple of hundred words is child's play to write or edit compared with 120k.
So, I should get back to it, huh. There's a break in the cricket and the Waratahs have gone down to the Chiefs, damn it. But another game is about to start and the Indians are about to bat. Gotta go!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Strine
So I've begun writing another book and found I don't know as much about my own country's idiosyncrasies as I'd like; much to my chagrin.
Oh, I know we're laconic, are masters of the understatement, brash, innocent, curious, excitable... but others are like that too.
But the language we use - and no, I don't mean swearing - I mean the comparatives:
She bangs like a dunny door; dry as a burnt chip (or a dead Dingo's donga); flat out like a lizard drinking; up and down like a bride's nightie (or fiddler's elbow); right as rain; fair go; a dog's eye (meat pie), frog and toad (road) and so on... is still a factor of everyday life. But these are not enough. I need conversational colloquialisms, otherwise known as Strine.
I set off into cyberspace to find what I needed. Not surprisingly, I found some. Australian Slang is a web portal leading to all manner of language sin.
Feather Foot's Aussie Slang page has a comprehensive list of colloquialisms which amused the hell out of me.
The Australian Slang Dictionary also has a comprehensive list which demonstrates the various descriptions of a single word, like 'cockie': a cockatoo, a cockroach or a farmer.
These two are the best. Now that I have my Strine in order, I can happily write away. This is actually the first book set in my home country. Bit odd that, but how many people really know their own country's idiosyncrasies?
Oh, I know we're laconic, are masters of the understatement, brash, innocent, curious, excitable... but others are like that too.
But the language we use - and no, I don't mean swearing - I mean the comparatives:
She bangs like a dunny door; dry as a burnt chip (or a dead Dingo's donga); flat out like a lizard drinking; up and down like a bride's nightie (or fiddler's elbow); right as rain; fair go; a dog's eye (meat pie), frog and toad (road) and so on... is still a factor of everyday life. But these are not enough. I need conversational colloquialisms, otherwise known as Strine.
I set off into cyberspace to find what I needed. Not surprisingly, I found some. Australian Slang is a web portal leading to all manner of language sin.
Feather Foot's Aussie Slang page has a comprehensive list of colloquialisms which amused the hell out of me.
The Australian Slang Dictionary also has a comprehensive list which demonstrates the various descriptions of a single word, like 'cockie': a cockatoo, a cockroach or a farmer.
These two are the best. Now that I have my Strine in order, I can happily write away. This is actually the first book set in my home country. Bit odd that, but how many people really know their own country's idiosyncrasies?
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Different Hats
To quote Yosemite Sam: "Sassen Frassen Rassen!"
I've just finished editing Demonesque and tried to delete 16k of words. I managed 6k.
I fear I'm going to snatch myself bald in frustration, but 129,954 words is still too long. While I'd like to go back to unilaterally hack and slash, that would not be conducive to a well-written story.
I'm going to let it sit - again - and concentrate on writing another. (That sound you hear is me gnashing my teeth, by the way.) I really wanted this to be ready to send out.
It's taking too long so I'll have to go with plan B. That is, drag out the post-writing plot and see where I can carve off 6-7k or more; break it all down into bite-sized pieces, aka, scenes, and see what can be dumped. I have an idea, but I don' wanna!
Okay, whine over.
One thing you have to be is profession in this business and the business is writing. Yes, the hard yards come when editing, but a professional focus must be kept. And if I'm foolish enough to smirk and be smug at how many words I can write for a book, then I deserve the hard time that follows for overstepping the mark. Mea Culpa in other words.
To that end, I need to forget about reading as a reader, and read as an editor. I need to focus, oh, and read and inwardly digest, Holly Lisle's article: Your Book Is Not Your Baby. That should shame me into not being such a sookie-la-la and get on with it!
I've just finished editing Demonesque and tried to delete 16k of words. I managed 6k.
I fear I'm going to snatch myself bald in frustration, but 129,954 words is still too long. While I'd like to go back to unilaterally hack and slash, that would not be conducive to a well-written story.
I'm going to let it sit - again - and concentrate on writing another. (That sound you hear is me gnashing my teeth, by the way.) I really wanted this to be ready to send out.
It's taking too long so I'll have to go with plan B. That is, drag out the post-writing plot and see where I can carve off 6-7k or more; break it all down into bite-sized pieces, aka, scenes, and see what can be dumped. I have an idea, but I don' wanna!
Okay, whine over.
One thing you have to be is profession in this business and the business is writing. Yes, the hard yards come when editing, but a professional focus must be kept. And if I'm foolish enough to smirk and be smug at how many words I can write for a book, then I deserve the hard time that follows for overstepping the mark. Mea Culpa in other words.
To that end, I need to forget about reading as a reader, and read as an editor. I need to focus, oh, and read and inwardly digest, Holly Lisle's article: Your Book Is Not Your Baby. That should shame me into not being such a sookie-la-la and get on with it!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
M-m-more m-m-meme
I'm a curious creature and I love to read about other people (as well as listen in to their conversations) so I nicked this from Gabriele's The Lost Fort site.
Ahem...
What was the last thing you wrote?
“We know of your unhappiness, Shadrach and understand why.” It's the first line of a new piece o' work. Other than that, I've been editing.
Was it any good?
I don't know. Is it?
What was the first thing you wrote that you still have?
Umm... I think a story about the impending destruction of Earth, the evacuation of the planet and it's last defence. I wrote it - never finished - in my early twenties.
Write Poetry?
Used to.
Angsty Poetry
No.
Favourite genre of writing?
Science Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fantasy.
Most fun character you ever created?
Marquet from Demon's Gate. He's a selfish, morally bankrupt character who becomes a hero in an act of self preservation. It really pissed him off.
Most annoying character you ever created?
Rodin Clairmont from Anzac Ascencion. He still considers himself an only child in the Royal Family and treats his siblings accordingly. The hateful bastard!
Best plot you ever created?
Hmm... I like them all, but Oracle Betrayed remains my favourite.
How often do you get writer's block?
Every time a story line doesn't work. I think it's my subconscious telling me the concept sucks like a drain.
Write fan fiction?
No, I refuse to step into someone else's imagination unless asked.
Do you type or write by hand?
I type faster than I can write; and my hand writing is atrocious.
Do you save everything you write?
Yes. No idea is wasted, merely waiting for the right time to mature.
Do you ever go back to an old idea long after you abandoned it?
Yes. See above answer.
What’s your favourite thing that you’ve written?
When I go back and edit, I usually come across something and I think, "Wow! Did I write that?" It gives me warm fuzzies.
Do you ever show people your work?
Yes, I have a short story blog and some free e-stuff for peeps to download.
Did you ever write a novel?
Yes. I'm currently working on number 16.
Ever written romance or teen angst drama?
Yes, romance. Five finished, two unfinished. I don't know anything about teenage angst. I wasn't allowed to be that way.
What’s your favourite setting for your characters?
On worlds I create and in peril.
How many writing projects are you working on right now?
Let's see: This blog, one new book, editing a book and a story for the story blog, so that's four.
Do you want to write for a living?
Yes, please. Although I did work as a journalist, I wasn't writing what I wanted.
Have you ever won an award for your writing?
I think my ears are burning. Yes. I wrote a short story for a national women's magazine that placed in the top ten. My prize was ten free Mills & Boon books. Yep, ears are all hot.
Ever written something in script or play format?
Yes. For a university assignment and for the Story-a-day marathon over at Forward Motion.
Do you ever write based on yourself?
Every character I write contains Essence of Jaye - the good, the bad and the downright ug-lee. The trick is to keep it hidden.
What character have you created that most resembles yourself?
Hard question. Every character has a part of me. Though since they are all sourced in my imagination...
Do you favour happy endings, sad endings, or cliff-hangers?
I favour an appropriate ending. Whether it's happy, sad or a cliff-hanger is up to the characters. They're running the show. Mostly, they get a happy ending.
Have you written based on an artwork you have seen?
No.
Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
No. I write first, then edit. That way, my concentration isn't broken.
Does music help you write?
Yes, but curiously, I rarely remember what I'm listening to if I'm in the zone. I won't even hear the end of the music, just an echo of the music when I'm done for the day.
Quote something you’ve written.
Memories she’d suppressed kept bobbing to the surface. She could still hear the bellow of the captain over the storm, the cold slap of water in her face as it came over the side, the seawater smell of fish, the sharp sting of open blisters on her hands as she hauled in nets, the warm flow of blood, washed from chilled fingers by salt spray.
She stared down at her palms. The skin was smooth now; the magic had healed her. If only it could heal the internal scars. She had been the only female on board; cook, whore and punching bag. Slave. Six weeks at sea, two days off in the lock-up to stop her from escaping. For two long years.
(From Oracle Betrayed.)
And there you have it. The best thing about this meme, is that it made me think. Thinking is always a good thing. It's right up there next to writing. Have a go at it, you'll see what I mean.
I'm going to re-read some of my stuff...
Ahem...
What was the last thing you wrote?
“We know of your unhappiness, Shadrach and understand why.” It's the first line of a new piece o' work. Other than that, I've been editing.
Was it any good?
I don't know. Is it?
What was the first thing you wrote that you still have?
Umm... I think a story about the impending destruction of Earth, the evacuation of the planet and it's last defence. I wrote it - never finished - in my early twenties.
Write Poetry?
Used to.
Angsty Poetry
No.
Favourite genre of writing?
Science Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fantasy.
Most fun character you ever created?
Marquet from Demon's Gate. He's a selfish, morally bankrupt character who becomes a hero in an act of self preservation. It really pissed him off.
Most annoying character you ever created?
Rodin Clairmont from Anzac Ascencion. He still considers himself an only child in the Royal Family and treats his siblings accordingly. The hateful bastard!
Best plot you ever created?
Hmm... I like them all, but Oracle Betrayed remains my favourite.
How often do you get writer's block?
Every time a story line doesn't work. I think it's my subconscious telling me the concept sucks like a drain.
Write fan fiction?
No, I refuse to step into someone else's imagination unless asked.
Do you type or write by hand?
I type faster than I can write; and my hand writing is atrocious.
Do you save everything you write?
Yes. No idea is wasted, merely waiting for the right time to mature.
Do you ever go back to an old idea long after you abandoned it?
Yes. See above answer.
What’s your favourite thing that you’ve written?
When I go back and edit, I usually come across something and I think, "Wow! Did I write that?" It gives me warm fuzzies.
Do you ever show people your work?
Yes, I have a short story blog and some free e-stuff for peeps to download.
Did you ever write a novel?
Yes. I'm currently working on number 16.
Ever written romance or teen angst drama?
Yes, romance. Five finished, two unfinished. I don't know anything about teenage angst. I wasn't allowed to be that way.
What’s your favourite setting for your characters?
On worlds I create and in peril.
How many writing projects are you working on right now?
Let's see: This blog, one new book, editing a book and a story for the story blog, so that's four.
Do you want to write for a living?
Yes, please. Although I did work as a journalist, I wasn't writing what I wanted.
Have you ever won an award for your writing?
I think my ears are burning. Yes. I wrote a short story for a national women's magazine that placed in the top ten. My prize was ten free Mills & Boon books. Yep, ears are all hot.
Ever written something in script or play format?
Yes. For a university assignment and for the Story-a-day marathon over at Forward Motion.
Do you ever write based on yourself?
Every character I write contains Essence of Jaye - the good, the bad and the downright ug-lee. The trick is to keep it hidden.
What character have you created that most resembles yourself?
Hard question. Every character has a part of me. Though since they are all sourced in my imagination...
Do you favour happy endings, sad endings, or cliff-hangers?
I favour an appropriate ending. Whether it's happy, sad or a cliff-hanger is up to the characters. They're running the show. Mostly, they get a happy ending.
Have you written based on an artwork you have seen?
No.
Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
No. I write first, then edit. That way, my concentration isn't broken.
Does music help you write?
Yes, but curiously, I rarely remember what I'm listening to if I'm in the zone. I won't even hear the end of the music, just an echo of the music when I'm done for the day.
Quote something you’ve written.
Memories she’d suppressed kept bobbing to the surface. She could still hear the bellow of the captain over the storm, the cold slap of water in her face as it came over the side, the seawater smell of fish, the sharp sting of open blisters on her hands as she hauled in nets, the warm flow of blood, washed from chilled fingers by salt spray.
She stared down at her palms. The skin was smooth now; the magic had healed her. If only it could heal the internal scars. She had been the only female on board; cook, whore and punching bag. Slave. Six weeks at sea, two days off in the lock-up to stop her from escaping. For two long years.
(From Oracle Betrayed.)
And there you have it. The best thing about this meme, is that it made me think. Thinking is always a good thing. It's right up there next to writing. Have a go at it, you'll see what I mean.
I'm going to re-read some of my stuff...
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The biff
I love movies that contain biffo; the better the biff, the better I like it.
Films like Aliens, Terminator, Blade, True Lies all hold my attention until the end credits.
I don't need intellectual moralising or to wade through 'literary' angst or follow 'a family's triumphs and tragedies spanning the generations'. Call me shallow but gak. If I want real life, I'll look out the window - or call my own family.
Anyway, I've just finished watching the Resident Evil Trilogy. Damn, but I love the fights and the icky zombies. All three movies have enough tension to focus my attention, gruesomeness to raise my squick factor and action to fire up the heart rate.
It's all escapism; not much of a plot required - though opinions may vary. But I love the above movies because they do have a plot and they get the creative juices flowing.
Just by watching RE, I have a solution to the problem of a book I want to write. The book has nothing to do with genetic engineering, or zombies or evil corporations. Nothing, in fact, to do with the films at all. But following the concept, the theme, I managed to have a light bulb moment, right in the middle of all that biff.
Inspiration can come from anywhere; for me, it sometimes come during the delicate dance of violence. And now that I've had my dose of the biff, I can get back to writing.
Does that make me twisted?
Films like Aliens, Terminator, Blade, True Lies all hold my attention until the end credits.
I don't need intellectual moralising or to wade through 'literary' angst or follow 'a family's triumphs and tragedies spanning the generations'. Call me shallow but gak. If I want real life, I'll look out the window - or call my own family.
Anyway, I've just finished watching the Resident Evil Trilogy. Damn, but I love the fights and the icky zombies. All three movies have enough tension to focus my attention, gruesomeness to raise my squick factor and action to fire up the heart rate.
It's all escapism; not much of a plot required - though opinions may vary. But I love the above movies because they do have a plot and they get the creative juices flowing.
Just by watching RE, I have a solution to the problem of a book I want to write. The book has nothing to do with genetic engineering, or zombies or evil corporations. Nothing, in fact, to do with the films at all. But following the concept, the theme, I managed to have a light bulb moment, right in the middle of all that biff.
Inspiration can come from anywhere; for me, it sometimes come during the delicate dance of violence. And now that I've had my dose of the biff, I can get back to writing.
Does that make me twisted?
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Scribd anyone?
Okay, I've post a story over at The Takeaway. It's not the problematic one - that's going to require some thought before I let anyone see it.
This one is longer than most, but it had to be. I'll be working on the problem child for the next post in just over two weeks - since I've been bad and didn't post last week.
Anyway, I thought I might open a Scribd account. The short story blog only goes so far in attracting readers and I can cruise around the site, searching for interesting stuff.
Lynn Viehl has a handy-dandy site and is a terrific mentor to the likes of me - although I have to admit, Deimos - it's in Lunar Marshall - still squicked me out. Astonishing idea, but ewww!
I'll give it some thought...
This one is longer than most, but it had to be. I'll be working on the problem child for the next post in just over two weeks - since I've been bad and didn't post last week.
Anyway, I thought I might open a Scribd account. The short story blog only goes so far in attracting readers and I can cruise around the site, searching for interesting stuff.
Lynn Viehl has a handy-dandy site and is a terrific mentor to the likes of me - although I have to admit, Deimos - it's in Lunar Marshall - still squicked me out. Astonishing idea, but ewww!
I'll give it some thought...
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
All in the view
I've been wrestling with a story all week.
The problem is perspective. It's a nifty story, but with telepaths, how much do you want to away?
If the story stands, everything is laid out and you know how it's going to end. Sometimes, that's a good thing; but it's something I try to avoid. Otherwise, there's no surprise for the reader and no urge to 'find out what happens next'.
If you know what a third person is thinking, it takes all the mystery away. So. What to do about it?
Do I split the story into two parts, which will make it longer? Or do I try to 'hide' some facet?
Much as I'd like to test the theories, it would also give away too much but I don't want to toss it into the 'too hard' basket. I think, though, I'll let it sit; do something else and let my subconscious and muse fight it out between them.
Either way, I plan to have the story up tomorrow... sometime.
The problem is perspective. It's a nifty story, but with telepaths, how much do you want to away?
If the story stands, everything is laid out and you know how it's going to end. Sometimes, that's a good thing; but it's something I try to avoid. Otherwise, there's no surprise for the reader and no urge to 'find out what happens next'.
If you know what a third person is thinking, it takes all the mystery away. So. What to do about it?
Do I split the story into two parts, which will make it longer? Or do I try to 'hide' some facet?
Much as I'd like to test the theories, it would also give away too much but I don't want to toss it into the 'too hard' basket. I think, though, I'll let it sit; do something else and let my subconscious and muse fight it out between them.
Either way, I plan to have the story up tomorrow... sometime.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I don't like plums
I often listen - in an abstract way - to other people's conversations. It's a great way to gain insight into characters. To wit:
Son, aged about eight: Oh, Mum, look, plums! Can we get some?
Mother: No, we don't like plums.
Son (disappointed): Oh.
And off they went.
I heard what she really meant: I don't like plums.
I thought the kid loved them, and would now have to go without. Two things can happen: he will grow up and convince himself he doesn't like plums either, or have a secret longing for them. Either way, I thought the mother narrow-minded and selfish.
My mother hates stuffing, and yet, every Christmas, she would stuff a chicken for Christmas lunch.
This may only be food, but it's an indicator of how children learn to hate more than just plums. Parents have complete dominion over children; it is they who teach bad language, poor choices and bigotry.
Of course, as writers we construct evil characters from these types of conversations. We develop the reasons why someone as innocent as a child can evolve into a selfish, self-serving and sometimes violent bad guy. And it's usually sourced in the parents, in the denial of what a child wants or needs.
Heroes come from the same source; and in both cases, there is something inherent in the genetic make-up that resists the petty, the injustice, the cruel and accepts the affection, generosity and duty.
The genesis of our characters lie within ourselves, but are tempered with the traits of others. There's no better way to find those traits than to listen in to conversations.
Oh, and I love plums.
Son, aged about eight: Oh, Mum, look, plums! Can we get some?
Mother: No, we don't like plums.
Son (disappointed): Oh.
And off they went.
I heard what she really meant: I don't like plums.
I thought the kid loved them, and would now have to go without. Two things can happen: he will grow up and convince himself he doesn't like plums either, or have a secret longing for them. Either way, I thought the mother narrow-minded and selfish.
My mother hates stuffing, and yet, every Christmas, she would stuff a chicken for Christmas lunch.
This may only be food, but it's an indicator of how children learn to hate more than just plums. Parents have complete dominion over children; it is they who teach bad language, poor choices and bigotry.
Of course, as writers we construct evil characters from these types of conversations. We develop the reasons why someone as innocent as a child can evolve into a selfish, self-serving and sometimes violent bad guy. And it's usually sourced in the parents, in the denial of what a child wants or needs.
Heroes come from the same source; and in both cases, there is something inherent in the genetic make-up that resists the petty, the injustice, the cruel and accepts the affection, generosity and duty.
The genesis of our characters lie within ourselves, but are tempered with the traits of others. There's no better way to find those traits than to listen in to conversations.
Oh, and I love plums.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Summer? What Summer?
Now, you see? It's Summer. SUM-MER! So why is it 14 degrees Celsius and bucketing with rain?
I don't mind the cold temperatures - I'm a winter baby, after all - but I do mind having my work interrupted by the backyard flooding - twice! The current rainfall pattern is an inch an hour this morning, and on top of the rain we've had in the last week, it's no longer soaking in.
I've been out in mah wellies redirecting the flow of water, using a broom to sweep it down the driveway and hoping the new drains can cope. It's guarranteed the previous, single, inadequate drain would not have coped at all and the bottom level would be awash.
It's making me paranoid and I cannot work with one ear listening to the heavy rain, wondering if I should just check downstairs.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow. Oh, look, the rain's heavier, time to go.
I don't mind the cold temperatures - I'm a winter baby, after all - but I do mind having my work interrupted by the backyard flooding - twice! The current rainfall pattern is an inch an hour this morning, and on top of the rain we've had in the last week, it's no longer soaking in.
I've been out in mah wellies redirecting the flow of water, using a broom to sweep it down the driveway and hoping the new drains can cope. It's guarranteed the previous, single, inadequate drain would not have coped at all and the bottom level would be awash.
It's making me paranoid and I cannot work with one ear listening to the heavy rain, wondering if I should just check downstairs.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow. Oh, look, the rain's heavier, time to go.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Yawn
Yeah, yeah, I know. But... I haven't seen much happening. The edits are progressing... slow-ly and when my eyes are starting to squint, I stop.
Yes, it's still bucketing with rain - and, damn it, I polished the car last week - the grass is growing out of control and the laundry isn't drying any time soon.
Um... what else? Updated the family tree, found the other side of the tree but can't access it and stayed up much too late reading J.D. Robb (David Weber requires mucho effort, but I'll get back to it soon). I also solved the missing tripod problem: I bought a new one - of course, the old one will turn up soon.
And that's about it... except... ah... I forgot to post a story this week, so I'm working on that, too.
So, this week, not much has been happening; what can I say?
Yes, it's still bucketing with rain - and, damn it, I polished the car last week - the grass is growing out of control and the laundry isn't drying any time soon.
Um... what else? Updated the family tree, found the other side of the tree but can't access it and stayed up much too late reading J.D. Robb (David Weber requires mucho effort, but I'll get back to it soon). I also solved the missing tripod problem: I bought a new one - of course, the old one will turn up soon.
And that's about it... except... ah... I forgot to post a story this week, so I'm working on that, too.
So, this week, not much has been happening; what can I say?
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Rain, rain, rain
Wow. When La Nina wants to play, she really plays!
Yesterday it bucketed with rain, as in 156mm worth, or six inches. Me? I was stuck in traffic. A twenty minute drive - in dry weather - took ninety and as I'm crawling along the highway, I watched the under-road drains be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of water, the frantic pulse of the windshield wipers try to keep visibility and listened to the local DJs tell everyone that it was raining, there was flooding and to stay at home.
Local farm dams overflowed, water washed across the roads, streets and parks flooded and... cars inevitably broke down. It was a amazing and I regretted not taking the camera with me. I was, after all, heading into town to get the car fixed. One of the brake cylinders is leaking - not much, but enough to fail the registration check.
It's been a good coupla decades since this type of weather has descended and it was fun, rather than scary. Though, once in town and watching the rain, unease crept in. For nearly an hour, I kept an eye on the rain. If it was like this at home, de house, she be flooding and my elderly parent would not be able to cope. My neighbour is a part of the local emergency services, but he, like so many others, was out rescuing and sandbagging. He wasn't home.
So, I went back to the mechanics - because I was late, they worked on another car - got the keys, made another appointment and headed home.
The rain eased off and by the time I got back to the Bay, had all but stopped. When I checked there was only fifteen millimetres in the rain gauge. No wrath of La Nina.
Today is sparkly. The sun is shining, the sky is painfully blue and the roads are dry. Gotta love a country of extremes. As the New Zealanders say, "There's no bad weather, only bad clothing."
Still, I got plenty of work done. Cut six thousand words with more to follow, so I'm on track for 120k. All it took was reducing a character to a bit player.
Yesterday it bucketed with rain, as in 156mm worth, or six inches. Me? I was stuck in traffic. A twenty minute drive - in dry weather - took ninety and as I'm crawling along the highway, I watched the under-road drains be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of water, the frantic pulse of the windshield wipers try to keep visibility and listened to the local DJs tell everyone that it was raining, there was flooding and to stay at home.
Local farm dams overflowed, water washed across the roads, streets and parks flooded and... cars inevitably broke down. It was a amazing and I regretted not taking the camera with me. I was, after all, heading into town to get the car fixed. One of the brake cylinders is leaking - not much, but enough to fail the registration check.
It's been a good coupla decades since this type of weather has descended and it was fun, rather than scary. Though, once in town and watching the rain, unease crept in. For nearly an hour, I kept an eye on the rain. If it was like this at home, de house, she be flooding and my elderly parent would not be able to cope. My neighbour is a part of the local emergency services, but he, like so many others, was out rescuing and sandbagging. He wasn't home.
So, I went back to the mechanics - because I was late, they worked on another car - got the keys, made another appointment and headed home.
The rain eased off and by the time I got back to the Bay, had all but stopped. When I checked there was only fifteen millimetres in the rain gauge. No wrath of La Nina.
Today is sparkly. The sun is shining, the sky is painfully blue and the roads are dry. Gotta love a country of extremes. As the New Zealanders say, "There's no bad weather, only bad clothing."
Still, I got plenty of work done. Cut six thousand words with more to follow, so I'm on track for 120k. All it took was reducing a character to a bit player.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Pod Slurping?
It raised my eyebrows, but it's the Macquarie Dictionary's word of the year. Apparently, it's: the downloading of large quantities of data to an MP3 player or memory stick from a computer.
Who knew? Not me, but then I'm an Oxford girl (I think my British roots are showing. 'scuse me while I tuck them away). The Macquarie is Australia's dictionary, full of colloquialisms as well as standard words, but it's always interesting to see what new words are turning up, like -
Informania: the tendency to give immediate attention to incoming messages such as email, text messages, etc., resulting in constant distraction and a corresponding drop in the recipient's attention levels and work performance. And we've all seen, or know someone who does this.
Floordrobe: noun Colloquial (humorous) a floor littered with discarded clothes, viewed ironically as a clothing storage system. [floor + (war)drobe]. Huh? You mean I was trendy years ago?
Man flu: noun Colloquial (humorous) a minor cold contracted by a man who proceeds to exaggerate the symptoms enormously. 'Nuff said.
Arse antlers: plural noun Colloquial a tattoo just above the buttocks, having a central section and curving extensions on each side. Ahh, now I have a name to go along with 'butt floss'.
Fauxtography: noun the manipulation of photographic or video images to convey a false representation of events. [faux + (pho)tography] Plenty of that going on around the web.
Nerdcore: noun a subgenre of hip-hop music characterised by subject matter considered of interest to nerds, such as technology, politics and science fiction; geeksta rap. Also, nerdcore hip-hop. [nerd + (hard)core] I like that, "geeksta rap". Now they have their own genre.
All of these definitions, and more, can be found at the Macquarie Dictionary site. Go. Have a giggle. Now, back to werk.
Who knew? Not me, but then I'm an Oxford girl (I think my British roots are showing. 'scuse me while I tuck them away). The Macquarie is Australia's dictionary, full of colloquialisms as well as standard words, but it's always interesting to see what new words are turning up, like -
Informania: the tendency to give immediate attention to incoming messages such as email, text messages, etc., resulting in constant distraction and a corresponding drop in the recipient's attention levels and work performance. And we've all seen, or know someone who does this.
Floordrobe: noun Colloquial (humorous) a floor littered with discarded clothes, viewed ironically as a clothing storage system. [floor + (war)drobe]. Huh? You mean I was trendy years ago?
Man flu: noun Colloquial (humorous) a minor cold contracted by a man who proceeds to exaggerate the symptoms enormously. 'Nuff said.
Arse antlers: plural noun Colloquial a tattoo just above the buttocks, having a central section and curving extensions on each side. Ahh, now I have a name to go along with 'butt floss'.
Fauxtography: noun the manipulation of photographic or video images to convey a false representation of events. [faux + (pho)tography] Plenty of that going on around the web.
Nerdcore: noun a subgenre of hip-hop music characterised by subject matter considered of interest to nerds, such as technology, politics and science fiction; geeksta rap. Also, nerdcore hip-hop. [nerd + (hard)core] I like that, "geeksta rap". Now they have their own genre.
All of these definitions, and more, can be found at the Macquarie Dictionary site. Go. Have a giggle. Now, back to werk.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Slash and burn
This final edit is time consuming, but I'm persevering because I know it will be worthwhile.
Checking all the -ing and -ly words is teaching me to look closer at sentence structure while also focusing on readability. One thing I'll have to teach myself now is to not have the tv on while I'm doing this on the laptop! The first pitfall of moveable writing I've discovered thus far.
But I've come up against a more serious problem: size. I have to cut another sixteen thousand words. As far as I know, no publisher is going to take a first novel at 136,000 words. More words equals more paper, more ink and more time on the presses, which equals more expense.
Hmmm, deja vu moment.
Anyway, I have to cut scenes. But what? The exploding plane? The jail abuse sequence? Some of Drega's cruelty? Sex scenes? What? It's like trying to nail jelly to a tree!
This is going to take some careful and creative consideration, 'cause, damn it, I don't wanna do it!
Well, tomorrow's Superbowl day, so I'm having the day off; maybe something will occur to me while I'm munching popcorn, drinking caffeine and cheering on the ******* (don't want to jinx either side).
Checking all the -ing and -ly words is teaching me to look closer at sentence structure while also focusing on readability. One thing I'll have to teach myself now is to not have the tv on while I'm doing this on the laptop! The first pitfall of moveable writing I've discovered thus far.
But I've come up against a more serious problem: size. I have to cut another sixteen thousand words. As far as I know, no publisher is going to take a first novel at 136,000 words. More words equals more paper, more ink and more time on the presses, which equals more expense.
Hmmm, deja vu moment.
Anyway, I have to cut scenes. But what? The exploding plane? The jail abuse sequence? Some of Drega's cruelty? Sex scenes? What? It's like trying to nail jelly to a tree!
This is going to take some careful and creative consideration, 'cause, damn it, I don't wanna do it!
Well, tomorrow's Superbowl day, so I'm having the day off; maybe something will occur to me while I'm munching popcorn, drinking caffeine and cheering on the ******* (don't want to jinx either side).
Friday, February 01, 2008
Jitters
I'm having an attack of nerves. Is it good enough? Will an agent like it? Have I done enough? Who the hell do I send it to? How do I choose?
This point that I'm at, this juncture in time, is something I've been working towards for years. There's something unnerving about sending off your written work for complete strangers to judge. And this is the true test.
I'm trying not to metaphorically hand wash with worry, but I'm standing on the 'do or don't' precipice. Where one more step forward will...
*sigh* Every published author goes through this. Every published author worried. Every published author had something rejected. And yeah, I've had the last.
I like to think I've progressed since then, that I've worked harder, focused more, created better and made my books more readable.
I've been doing this for years, taking one step at a time, improving until I'm at a stage where I think my work won't be dismissed out of hand for poor grammar or jumping timelines or changing hair/eye colours.
Getting online was the first step to overcome chronic shyness and I think it's working well. It took a dare from Sheila to post stories - the next step - and I think that's gone well too. Forward Motion taught me to write short stories; Nano to write books and various other websites, school courses and books to edit.
Is there a longer apprenticeship? Or one more worthwhile?
It's time to get back to the final edits. Then onto the writing of query letters and synopis... synopsi... synopsises... um... yeah, you know what I mean.
This point that I'm at, this juncture in time, is something I've been working towards for years. There's something unnerving about sending off your written work for complete strangers to judge. And this is the true test.
I'm trying not to metaphorically hand wash with worry, but I'm standing on the 'do or don't' precipice. Where one more step forward will...
*sigh* Every published author goes through this. Every published author worried. Every published author had something rejected. And yeah, I've had the last.
I like to think I've progressed since then, that I've worked harder, focused more, created better and made my books more readable.
I've been doing this for years, taking one step at a time, improving until I'm at a stage where I think my work won't be dismissed out of hand for poor grammar or jumping timelines or changing hair/eye colours.
Getting online was the first step to overcome chronic shyness and I think it's working well. It took a dare from Sheila to post stories - the next step - and I think that's gone well too. Forward Motion taught me to write short stories; Nano to write books and various other websites, school courses and books to edit.
Is there a longer apprenticeship? Or one more worthwhile?
It's time to get back to the final edits. Then onto the writing of query letters and synopis... synopsi... synopsises... um... yeah, you know what I mean.
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