Uh, huh. Felled by food poisoning. Not so bad... now; a good dose of ginger marmalade on an English muffin and I'm near cured. It's the ginger, a natural nausea suppressant that dates back hundreds of years. For some, it's used to treat seasickness and in Asia, the common cold by making a tea. Should I contract a cold this winter, I'm giving it a try. I hate being sick - it's unproductive and makes me snarky.
Australia also went off Daylight Savings Time this weekend. Which means I'm up before sunrise and earlier than I want. I just can't sleep in that 'extra' hour. It takes as long to get used to standard time as it did getting used to DST back in... whenever (I swear they keep changing the dates just to piss people off). It used to be from the end of October to the end of February - now it's the beginning of October to to the end of March. Who makes the decision to muck around with time anyway? Time is time; it's relative, it flies, it's now.
It's time I got some work done...
Monday, April 05, 2010
Saturday, April 03, 2010
Blech
I'm feeling rather blech today. Aching joints and muscles, vague nausea and tired enough to want a nap. It came on around mid-morning.
Of course, the printer decided to join the desktop computer in the graveyard. sigh. Right in the middle of printing out a manuscript to edit and on the long weekend.
If I didn't have visitors, I'd curl up under the duvet and keep the world at bay. But... I do and I can't. In a few more hours, I can change the clocks back and hit the sack early; indulge in an extra hour's sleep tomorrow.
I hope this doesn't get any worse - I'm rarely sick and I have no idea where I got this dreaded Lurgy. Gotta go throw up now. Just talk amongst yourselves...
Of course, the printer decided to join the desktop computer in the graveyard. sigh. Right in the middle of printing out a manuscript to edit and on the long weekend.
If I didn't have visitors, I'd curl up under the duvet and keep the world at bay. But... I do and I can't. In a few more hours, I can change the clocks back and hit the sack early; indulge in an extra hour's sleep tomorrow.
I hope this doesn't get any worse - I'm rarely sick and I have no idea where I got this dreaded Lurgy. Gotta go throw up now. Just talk amongst yourselves...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Moving on from the old
It occurred to me that I needed to get a photograph editing programme off my desktop computer. You remember? The one that's dead?
Since I'm clever (my degree says so, right under the beer stains), I thought I'd replace the power box with another cannibalised from another computer. Yes, I'm sure you can see the problem: once I scrapped a few knuckles, broke a fingernail or two and tossed a number of expletives (Mum was in the Navy) into the atmosphere to turn it blue... I saw that the salvaged power unit wasn't as powerful as the one I meant to replace.
On a sigh, I turned the desktop on - just to make sure it was dead - and lo, it turned on! Wahoo... or not, since there wasn't any video output.
Not to be discouraged, I fooled around with the connections. Finally, there appeared... not a damn thing. Timing is everything. I had a glimpse of the background wallpaper when we had a brown-out with the electricity and the whole thing turned off.
No amount of button pressing could revive the computer. I've decided to let sleeping silicon chips lie. It will cost too much to repair and I have the handy-dandy laptop to download stuff onto.
Now, I'm off to fool around with Paint.net. Freeware. It looks good and I have some covers to create.
Since I'm clever (my degree says so, right under the beer stains), I thought I'd replace the power box with another cannibalised from another computer. Yes, I'm sure you can see the problem: once I scrapped a few knuckles, broke a fingernail or two and tossed a number of expletives (Mum was in the Navy) into the atmosphere to turn it blue... I saw that the salvaged power unit wasn't as powerful as the one I meant to replace.
On a sigh, I turned the desktop on - just to make sure it was dead - and lo, it turned on! Wahoo... or not, since there wasn't any video output.
Not to be discouraged, I fooled around with the connections. Finally, there appeared... not a damn thing. Timing is everything. I had a glimpse of the background wallpaper when we had a brown-out with the electricity and the whole thing turned off.
No amount of button pressing could revive the computer. I've decided to let sleeping silicon chips lie. It will cost too much to repair and I have the handy-dandy laptop to download stuff onto.
Now, I'm off to fool around with Paint.net. Freeware. It looks good and I have some covers to create.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Lesson learned
Plenty of pre-editing editing going on here.
I've rediscovered that getting bent out of shape over things isn't good for my stress levels, which have been through the roof given my two deadlines that fall in the same week.
Solution? Work on work when necessary, ie, on work days; work on fiction when I want to, which is any time.
The first deadline could be unreasonable since this project came to me six months after it was initiated. If it's late, it's late and isn't my responsibility. Having said that, I'll still do my best to get it done on time.
The second deadline is one of my own making. And I've been having fun. Up late, reading the work done for last year's Nano. I finished the sequel to Huntress and had to start on the third book. I think it bodes well that I enjoyed both books.
Now, I get to print them out and start the real editing. I'm probably putting the mokkas on myself, but it looks like I'll see the deadline and raise another one soon after.
Oh. Wait. Escape, escape, delete, delete. I have the May story-a-day marathon coming up. Guess I'll just have to see how Hunted does on the readership scale before I post the third book.
I've rediscovered that getting bent out of shape over things isn't good for my stress levels, which have been through the roof given my two deadlines that fall in the same week.
Solution? Work on work when necessary, ie, on work days; work on fiction when I want to, which is any time.
The first deadline could be unreasonable since this project came to me six months after it was initiated. If it's late, it's late and isn't my responsibility. Having said that, I'll still do my best to get it done on time.
The second deadline is one of my own making. And I've been having fun. Up late, reading the work done for last year's Nano. I finished the sequel to Huntress and had to start on the third book. I think it bodes well that I enjoyed both books.
Now, I get to print them out and start the real editing. I'm probably putting the mokkas on myself, but it looks like I'll see the deadline and raise another one soon after.
Oh. Wait. Escape, escape, delete, delete. I have the May story-a-day marathon coming up. Guess I'll just have to see how Hunted does on the readership scale before I post the third book.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Pristine History
I really hate political correctness. I dislike being required to treat people with 'cultural' sensitivity when they refuse to treat me with the same respect.
I believe political correctness has gone beyond the realms of common sense and into the dungeon of divisiveness where ethnicity is singled out for special treatment because of modern day interpretation of historic events.
To name names in the current environment, tempts people who don't agree with me, to call me a 'racist' rather than engage in meaningful dialogue.
Let's take an example. (Any example will be a hot button topic, so be warned.)
When writing historical fiction, is it acceptable to use the word 'nigger' or 'wog' or 'mick'? How about a 'Yank' or a 'Kraut' or 'Frog', a 'Lobster', a 'Ruskie' or a 'Skip'?
When you look at the list, why is the latter list more acceptable than the former? Is it because yanks, etc. represent Caucasian skin colour and the others don't? (Hell, pressed one of my own buttons there.)
To write a book set during the American Civil War - from the South's perspective - will necessitate the use of the word 'nigger'; it was the accepted term for the slaves. To write a book set during the Second World War - from a front-line soldier's perspective - necessitates using the words 'kraut', 'Nazi' or 'Ruskie'. New York in the 1880s-1900s, Irish immigrants were 'micks'.
Just because we have a veneer of sophistication and civilisation now, doesn't mean we can white-wash history of all its glory and dirt by creating taboos. History, the good and the bad, happened. It can't be changed. The words were used - even as the attempts to have them expunged from history continues.
The Australian outlaw, Ned Kelly, was long ago turned into a folk hero for standing up to authority. Yet, this is a man who, with his gang, gunned down three police officers and had a history of assault and theft. He was eventually hanged for the shootout at Glenrowan. It is a matter of history that, in some aspects of his life, he was treated poorly by the police. Yet as little as thirty years after his death, his actions were justified by the social discord surrounding squatter-land selection rights. He is still regarded as a folk hero.
There was a time when having convict ancestors was vaguely uncomfortable for a family; now it is a source of pride. And yes, we do have a convict in the tree - probably more if I can connect them. A sheep-stealer, in fact. Acquitted the first time 'on compassionate grounds' (his father died while awaiting trial for the same offence), but convicted when he did it again! I'm not sympathetic to his plight because he was a recidivist, he'd been in trouble for most of his life. But he did manage to create a new life for himself here, in Australia, following the commutation of the execution order to life in the penal colony.
When bad men do bad things, it's not acceptable to ascribe moral motives to their actions centuries later and call those actions justified. Just as it is not acceptable to re-write words already spoken and recorded because we find them distasteful now. Nor do I believe in teaching sanitised history to reflect the modern political correctness of apologising for the actions of the population generations ago.
Captain James Cook should be accorded the respect of his name, his title and his achievements in navigation, astronomy and exploration, not reduced to a sneering descriptor as 'Jimmy Cook'.
I've had this argument before and the end result was an agreement to disagree. But should I write historical pieces as fiction, I'll use the words spoken at the time. If I'm vilified for it, so be it; at least I won't be a history denier.
I believe political correctness has gone beyond the realms of common sense and into the dungeon of divisiveness where ethnicity is singled out for special treatment because of modern day interpretation of historic events.
To name names in the current environment, tempts people who don't agree with me, to call me a 'racist' rather than engage in meaningful dialogue.
Let's take an example. (Any example will be a hot button topic, so be warned.)
When writing historical fiction, is it acceptable to use the word 'nigger' or 'wog' or 'mick'? How about a 'Yank' or a 'Kraut' or 'Frog', a 'Lobster', a 'Ruskie' or a 'Skip'?
When you look at the list, why is the latter list more acceptable than the former? Is it because yanks, etc. represent Caucasian skin colour and the others don't? (Hell, pressed one of my own buttons there.)
To write a book set during the American Civil War - from the South's perspective - will necessitate the use of the word 'nigger'; it was the accepted term for the slaves. To write a book set during the Second World War - from a front-line soldier's perspective - necessitates using the words 'kraut', 'Nazi' or 'Ruskie'. New York in the 1880s-1900s, Irish immigrants were 'micks'.
Just because we have a veneer of sophistication and civilisation now, doesn't mean we can white-wash history of all its glory and dirt by creating taboos. History, the good and the bad, happened. It can't be changed. The words were used - even as the attempts to have them expunged from history continues.
The Australian outlaw, Ned Kelly, was long ago turned into a folk hero for standing up to authority. Yet, this is a man who, with his gang, gunned down three police officers and had a history of assault and theft. He was eventually hanged for the shootout at Glenrowan. It is a matter of history that, in some aspects of his life, he was treated poorly by the police. Yet as little as thirty years after his death, his actions were justified by the social discord surrounding squatter-land selection rights. He is still regarded as a folk hero.
There was a time when having convict ancestors was vaguely uncomfortable for a family; now it is a source of pride. And yes, we do have a convict in the tree - probably more if I can connect them. A sheep-stealer, in fact. Acquitted the first time 'on compassionate grounds' (his father died while awaiting trial for the same offence), but convicted when he did it again! I'm not sympathetic to his plight because he was a recidivist, he'd been in trouble for most of his life. But he did manage to create a new life for himself here, in Australia, following the commutation of the execution order to life in the penal colony.
When bad men do bad things, it's not acceptable to ascribe moral motives to their actions centuries later and call those actions justified. Just as it is not acceptable to re-write words already spoken and recorded because we find them distasteful now. Nor do I believe in teaching sanitised history to reflect the modern political correctness of apologising for the actions of the population generations ago.
Captain James Cook should be accorded the respect of his name, his title and his achievements in navigation, astronomy and exploration, not reduced to a sneering descriptor as 'Jimmy Cook'.
I've had this argument before and the end result was an agreement to disagree. But should I write historical pieces as fiction, I'll use the words spoken at the time. If I'm vilified for it, so be it; at least I won't be a history denier.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Ergo, Ergot
Between the years 1000-1400AD, Europe experienced an era of warmth and higher than average rainfall. This was the ‘Medieval Warm Period’.
During this time, populations and crops flourished. But by the end of this period, the Black Death decimated those same populations. Europe, after the epidemic passed, found itself with 30-60 percent less people. With less people to work in the fields, the fewer fields cultivated and the less food produced. Famine resulted in killing off more of the population. But famine was not uncommon in Medieval Europe, just more obvious after the Black Death.
Some estimates put the death toll at between 75-200 million people. As with all urbanisation, the close proximity of people led to the rapid spread of disease. Paris lost 100,000 – half its population, Florence more than half at 70,000 dead.
Before the Black Death arrived, another danger lurked in the warm, humid environment: fungus.
Bread wasn’t just a staple of the diet, it provided the plate, or trencher, as well. Following the meal, the bread trencher could be eaten, given to the poor or to farm animals. Unfortunately for the peasants of Europe, the warm, rainy weather gave rise to the Ergot fungi which grew on the rye and wheat crops.
Ergot poisoning manifested itself in humans as hallucinations, convulsions, nausea, a burning sensation in the limbs. Such symptoms lead to many accusations of witchcraft. One hundred thousand were slaughtered on the charge of poisoning the local population. Jews, Muslims, lepers were included in the accusations and of bringing the Black Death to Europe.
A little known cultural response, however, was the real culprit for the increase in deaths from plague. Hysteria ran high after the poisonings and cats – the oft accused familiar of witches – were killed off in job lots...
With no cats to hunt the flea-ridden rodents carrying the Plague, the incidents of Black Death sky-rocketed and so did the persecutions. Even after the disease ran its course and faded from Europe, the Church and local communities continued to go after alleged witches; most of whom were ordinary people subjected to the jealousies of others.
The persecution of non-Christians has a history spanning millennia. But paternalism as a measure to control society is a story for another day.
Today, witchcraft is more acceptable (excluding areas of Africa where people are still murdered for being an accused witch) under the banner of ‘neopaganism’; a friendlier, more peaceful and private practice without the church-fed superstitions of old.
Education and flexibility of governments, the separation of church and state, the sophistication of our societies and the establishments of religious freedoms, all allow people to worship a religion in their own way.
For Christians, Easter is a solemn occasion; for the neopagans, it is a time for celebration. Fortunately, in the modern world, there’s room enough for both.
During this time, populations and crops flourished. But by the end of this period, the Black Death decimated those same populations. Europe, after the epidemic passed, found itself with 30-60 percent less people. With less people to work in the fields, the fewer fields cultivated and the less food produced. Famine resulted in killing off more of the population. But famine was not uncommon in Medieval Europe, just more obvious after the Black Death.
Some estimates put the death toll at between 75-200 million people. As with all urbanisation, the close proximity of people led to the rapid spread of disease. Paris lost 100,000 – half its population, Florence more than half at 70,000 dead.
Before the Black Death arrived, another danger lurked in the warm, humid environment: fungus.
Bread wasn’t just a staple of the diet, it provided the plate, or trencher, as well. Following the meal, the bread trencher could be eaten, given to the poor or to farm animals. Unfortunately for the peasants of Europe, the warm, rainy weather gave rise to the Ergot fungi which grew on the rye and wheat crops.
Ergot poisoning manifested itself in humans as hallucinations, convulsions, nausea, a burning sensation in the limbs. Such symptoms lead to many accusations of witchcraft. One hundred thousand were slaughtered on the charge of poisoning the local population. Jews, Muslims, lepers were included in the accusations and of bringing the Black Death to Europe.
A little known cultural response, however, was the real culprit for the increase in deaths from plague. Hysteria ran high after the poisonings and cats – the oft accused familiar of witches – were killed off in job lots...
With no cats to hunt the flea-ridden rodents carrying the Plague, the incidents of Black Death sky-rocketed and so did the persecutions. Even after the disease ran its course and faded from Europe, the Church and local communities continued to go after alleged witches; most of whom were ordinary people subjected to the jealousies of others.
The persecution of non-Christians has a history spanning millennia. But paternalism as a measure to control society is a story for another day.
Today, witchcraft is more acceptable (excluding areas of Africa where people are still murdered for being an accused witch) under the banner of ‘neopaganism’; a friendlier, more peaceful and private practice without the church-fed superstitions of old.
Education and flexibility of governments, the separation of church and state, the sophistication of our societies and the establishments of religious freedoms, all allow people to worship a religion in their own way.
For Christians, Easter is a solemn occasion; for the neopagans, it is a time for celebration. Fortunately, in the modern world, there’s room enough for both.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Moon over April
The practice of deciding when Easter falls is a tradition millennia old yet involves a pagan practice: that of the moon’s cycle through the heavens.
Constantin the Great, a Roman Emperor, decreed in 325, that Easter be celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox. (The vernal equinox occurs twice a year when night and day are the same length.) By using the Julian calendar, each year was 11 minutes and 14 secs longer than the solar year. Over the years, this caused distinct discrepancies in Western Church celebrations of Easter.
Given the conflict between the solar and lunar years, and between the calendic and true astronomical years, the church adopted a system of calculations proposed by astronomer, Victorinius in 465.
British and Celtic Christian churches refused to comply, leading to disagreements with Rome. At this time, the Julian calendar was in use, but in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII reformed the calendar into the Gregorian calendar which dissolved most of the controversy by dropping ten days off the calendar. Western Christian churches were then be able to celebrate Easter at the same time; Eastern Christian Churches however, chose not to adopt the new system and so celebrate Easter either a week before or after the dates of the West.
Because of the difference between the Lunar and Solar cycles, Easter has become ‘a moveable feast’.
The word ‘Easter’ is thought to be pre-Christian in origin, from the Anglo-Saxon for the Teutonic goddess of spring and fertility, Eastre. According to St Bede – an 8th Century British scholar – the month of April was sacred to her. The vernal equinox is her day of celebration. Easter Eggs, too, are a part of the festival, representing fertility.
Historically speaking, Rome, in an effort to suppress Pagan rituals, changed iconic Christian celebratory days to those of Pagan worship; it made the conversion from paganism to Christendom easier for the Church. And yet, the church also integrated paganism into the Christian doctrine and calls it their own.
The remains of ancient Roman temples and sites of Celtic significance have been found under a number of Christian churches across Europe, including the Notre Dame in Paris.
It is a curious hypocrisy of the church that Christmas – the day the Church says Jesus Christ was born – is on a set date, immovable (though some astronomers believe the date is...erroneous due to the astronomical event at the time described in literature and the Bible which did not take place in December, but in April – other astronomical events were also recorded over a period of ten years, thus the true date is up for debate), but the day of his death changes due to the vagaries of the lunar cycle.
Constantin the Great, a Roman Emperor, decreed in 325, that Easter be celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox. (The vernal equinox occurs twice a year when night and day are the same length.) By using the Julian calendar, each year was 11 minutes and 14 secs longer than the solar year. Over the years, this caused distinct discrepancies in Western Church celebrations of Easter.
Given the conflict between the solar and lunar years, and between the calendic and true astronomical years, the church adopted a system of calculations proposed by astronomer, Victorinius in 465.
British and Celtic Christian churches refused to comply, leading to disagreements with Rome. At this time, the Julian calendar was in use, but in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII reformed the calendar into the Gregorian calendar which dissolved most of the controversy by dropping ten days off the calendar. Western Christian churches were then be able to celebrate Easter at the same time; Eastern Christian Churches however, chose not to adopt the new system and so celebrate Easter either a week before or after the dates of the West.
Because of the difference between the Lunar and Solar cycles, Easter has become ‘a moveable feast’.
The word ‘Easter’ is thought to be pre-Christian in origin, from the Anglo-Saxon for the Teutonic goddess of spring and fertility, Eastre. According to St Bede – an 8th Century British scholar – the month of April was sacred to her. The vernal equinox is her day of celebration. Easter Eggs, too, are a part of the festival, representing fertility.
Historically speaking, Rome, in an effort to suppress Pagan rituals, changed iconic Christian celebratory days to those of Pagan worship; it made the conversion from paganism to Christendom easier for the Church. And yet, the church also integrated paganism into the Christian doctrine and calls it their own.
The remains of ancient Roman temples and sites of Celtic significance have been found under a number of Christian churches across Europe, including the Notre Dame in Paris.
It is a curious hypocrisy of the church that Christmas – the day the Church says Jesus Christ was born – is on a set date, immovable (though some astronomers believe the date is...erroneous due to the astronomical event at the time described in literature and the Bible which did not take place in December, but in April – other astronomical events were also recorded over a period of ten years, thus the true date is up for debate), but the day of his death changes due to the vagaries of the lunar cycle.
Friday, March 19, 2010
UK Church signs
Since Easter is coming up soon, I thought I'd get my irreverence out of the way early:
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I could say so much about the last one... but, in the interests of not causing a bun fight, I shall refrain.
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I could say so much about the last one... but, in the interests of not causing a bun fight, I shall refrain.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St Patrick
Four hundred years after Claudius invaded Britannia to subdue the Celtic barbarians, Irish raiders attacked a small village – probably in the Severn Valley – burning and slaying. When they retreated back to Ireland, they had in their possession the son of a Christian Deacon, a Roman citizen. His name was Patrick.
Sold into slavery, Patrick found solace in religion as he tended farm animals. For six years he toiled in loneliness before insistent visions led him to escape to Brittany. He wandered far and wide until he came upon Bishop Germanus of Auxerre.
Expressing a desire to return to Ireland and spread the religious message he had learned on his travels, Patrick spent the next fourteen years under the Bishop’s careful tutelage and prepared himself for what seemed an impossible task.
In 432 he sailed for Ireland. There, he organised the Christians already there and converted kings and kingdoms to the Christian way. Today, he is celebrated for his deeds, including the ridding of snakes and reptiles from the land. Green is colour worn and shamrocks displayed to represent the Holy Trinity.
The commonly told story of St Patrick, however, hides a deeper, more brutal truth – the thorough oppression of an older religion and people, that of so-called paganism and the Celts.
Prior to subjugation by the Romans, the Irish Celts were one of the most liberal and equitable societies in history. The religion was maternal as opposed to the paternal Romans.
Women could and did divorce husbands, taking with them all they’d brought to the marriage. Divorce could be for infertility, inability to perform conjugal rights, for a husband preferring other men, brutality, for many reasons we have today.
The Celt Queen Boudicca of the Iceni came within an hour of defeating the Roman legions, but for the treachery of the male leaders of other tribes who wanted the wealth and prestige siding with Rome would bring.
Patrick, in his desire to convert people, desecrated sacred Druid sites by setting the Solstice fires alight before the due day, by turning kings to Christianity through threats of retribution, trade sanctions and oppression. It came to pass that anyone who practiced non-Christian ways were put to death, beheaded as a warning to others. Druids were rounded up and slaughtered, sacred oak groves were put to the flame and history... rewritten.
And the snakes evicted from Ireland? One of the sacred items to Druids was the image of the snake. It is a common feature on a number of jewellery pieces discovered during archaeological excavations. During the time of Patrick, the snake represented the Druids. Patrick’s ridding the Isle of snakes is merely a metaphor for the slaughter of pagan Holy men and women, but portrayed in Christian Garden of Eden terms.
Patrick went on to establish monasteries and religious retreats. He inspired St Columba who took Christianity to the Picts in Scotland and on into England. In conjunction with the Pope, the majority of Pagan sacred days were converted to Christian Holy ones. Churches were built on ley lines.
It did not mean the complete destruction of paganism; for example the Christian church still uses the pagan way of moon cycles when deciding when Easter is to be held. The raising of a tree at Christmas is a part of the Druid tree-worshipping practice is another example.
St Patrick is a man who changed history. Think, for a moment, what Ireland could have become if those raiders had killed the boy rather than enslave him.
Sold into slavery, Patrick found solace in religion as he tended farm animals. For six years he toiled in loneliness before insistent visions led him to escape to Brittany. He wandered far and wide until he came upon Bishop Germanus of Auxerre.
Expressing a desire to return to Ireland and spread the religious message he had learned on his travels, Patrick spent the next fourteen years under the Bishop’s careful tutelage and prepared himself for what seemed an impossible task.
In 432 he sailed for Ireland. There, he organised the Christians already there and converted kings and kingdoms to the Christian way. Today, he is celebrated for his deeds, including the ridding of snakes and reptiles from the land. Green is colour worn and shamrocks displayed to represent the Holy Trinity.
The commonly told story of St Patrick, however, hides a deeper, more brutal truth – the thorough oppression of an older religion and people, that of so-called paganism and the Celts.
Prior to subjugation by the Romans, the Irish Celts were one of the most liberal and equitable societies in history. The religion was maternal as opposed to the paternal Romans.
Women could and did divorce husbands, taking with them all they’d brought to the marriage. Divorce could be for infertility, inability to perform conjugal rights, for a husband preferring other men, brutality, for many reasons we have today.
The Celt Queen Boudicca of the Iceni came within an hour of defeating the Roman legions, but for the treachery of the male leaders of other tribes who wanted the wealth and prestige siding with Rome would bring.
Patrick, in his desire to convert people, desecrated sacred Druid sites by setting the Solstice fires alight before the due day, by turning kings to Christianity through threats of retribution, trade sanctions and oppression. It came to pass that anyone who practiced non-Christian ways were put to death, beheaded as a warning to others. Druids were rounded up and slaughtered, sacred oak groves were put to the flame and history... rewritten.
And the snakes evicted from Ireland? One of the sacred items to Druids was the image of the snake. It is a common feature on a number of jewellery pieces discovered during archaeological excavations. During the time of Patrick, the snake represented the Druids. Patrick’s ridding the Isle of snakes is merely a metaphor for the slaughter of pagan Holy men and women, but portrayed in Christian Garden of Eden terms.
Patrick went on to establish monasteries and religious retreats. He inspired St Columba who took Christianity to the Picts in Scotland and on into England. In conjunction with the Pope, the majority of Pagan sacred days were converted to Christian Holy ones. Churches were built on ley lines.
It did not mean the complete destruction of paganism; for example the Christian church still uses the pagan way of moon cycles when deciding when Easter is to be held. The raising of a tree at Christmas is a part of the Druid tree-worshipping practice is another example.
St Patrick is a man who changed history. Think, for a moment, what Ireland could have become if those raiders had killed the boy rather than enslave him.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Churchill, Homer and me...
So family turned up from all over the place to celebrate my eldest sister's mumble, mumble birthday. It's not really her birthday, she'll be in Paris on the actual day.
These parties are... exuberant. We don't get together all that often because of distance, but when we do, damn, but we go all out.
I'm lying on the couch, trying to pay attention to the rugby, with an overstuffed belly from too much food and soaked with some rather tasty wine - no thoughts of getting back to fiction tomorrow - I'm feeling nicely pickled.
Winston Churchill made some his most famous speeches following the consumption of significant amounts of brandy - I think it also contributed to his slow, measured tones when delivering the words that boosted a nation.
I'm no Churchill, hell, I have ambitions to be as erudite as Homer. Simpson, that is, not the ancient Greek.
It does, however, make me wonder how many authors out there settle down with a nice glass of red or white and set fingers to keyboard to compose - and whether the result is worth reading.
Churchill proved brilliant; for me - if tasting the fruit of the vine - the hits usually outweigh the misses. That is, the hits of 'wow, that's awful' are more prevalent than the 'wow, that's exciting'.
I need a nap now.
These parties are... exuberant. We don't get together all that often because of distance, but when we do, damn, but we go all out.
I'm lying on the couch, trying to pay attention to the rugby, with an overstuffed belly from too much food and soaked with some rather tasty wine - no thoughts of getting back to fiction tomorrow - I'm feeling nicely pickled.
Winston Churchill made some his most famous speeches following the consumption of significant amounts of brandy - I think it also contributed to his slow, measured tones when delivering the words that boosted a nation.
I'm no Churchill, hell, I have ambitions to be as erudite as Homer. Simpson, that is, not the ancient Greek.
It does, however, make me wonder how many authors out there settle down with a nice glass of red or white and set fingers to keyboard to compose - and whether the result is worth reading.
Churchill proved brilliant; for me - if tasting the fruit of the vine - the hits usually outweigh the misses. That is, the hits of 'wow, that's awful' are more prevalent than the 'wow, that's exciting'.
I need a nap now.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Goodbye Maggie
Sleep well, Maggie-moo-too, BFF of Saxon, much loved member of our families and the best little brown dog ever.
We miss you.
Monday, March 08, 2010
Resistance is futile
I think this hiatus is working. The temptation to get back to the keyboard and write is growing, with an idea for a sequel to a book I'm taking to the World Science Fiction Convention held in Melbourne this September.
But I'm not going to give in, not yet. Next Monday is soon enough. This week, I'm still reading, still watching movies (Eagle Eye was great!) and I'm working on a web page for the local museum.
I'm coming to the opinion that sitting down, every single day, and writing creatively or editing is not such a good idea (Nano aside). Doing stuff away from writing recharges the batteries - which have been on a low, near-desperate buzz for a while now - has done me a lot of good.
Next week, I'll be doing an edit and probably dumping, oh, about forty or fifty pages of Hunted (those pages really suck) and post the book by the end of April to Scribd... hmm, that's when the web page is due. And I really want to get to writing.
Maybe I can sneak it in, just a few quick notes, or dot points...
But I'm not going to give in, not yet. Next Monday is soon enough. This week, I'm still reading, still watching movies (Eagle Eye was great!) and I'm working on a web page for the local museum.
I'm coming to the opinion that sitting down, every single day, and writing creatively or editing is not such a good idea (Nano aside). Doing stuff away from writing recharges the batteries - which have been on a low, near-desperate buzz for a while now - has done me a lot of good.
Next week, I'll be doing an edit and probably dumping, oh, about forty or fifty pages of Hunted (those pages really suck) and post the book by the end of April to Scribd... hmm, that's when the web page is due. And I really want to get to writing.
Maybe I can sneak it in, just a few quick notes, or dot points...
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Down Time
Ah, yes. The sky is blue, the air is cool and Autumn has arrived. Yay!
In the post storm landscape, busted branches hover in trees, sticks and twigs litter the ground and rattle under cars; clumps of seaweed bob like bodies in the calm waters off the beach. (And that’s a disturbing sight, I can tell you.)
I’ve deliberately stayed away from any editing/writing over the past week or so because I’m temporarily over it. I wanted to read something I haven’t written, watch a movie or two, or three or four, guilt free.
I’ve watched Sweeney Todd (a curious movie), The Matrix (gotta love Keanu and the delicious Mr Smith), Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (still indifferent to it), From Dusk until Dawn (George Clooney... sigh) and Dogma (which is in my top five of must sees. It’s brilliant, eloquent and oh, so wicked).
For the moment, I’ve set aside Vicki Pettersson’s City of Souls for some Maggie Shayne re-runs, probably some old Nora, too; a back to the beginning kind of thing. I need to reconnect with why I love writing and reading, be inspired again. And to relax, which, I confess, I’m not very good at. Posting stuff ‘out there’ is stressful because you’re presenting work for judgement – the good and the bad – and four books in six months has plum done wored me out.
I feel better for not rushing into the next book, for focussing on other things. I’m aware of another deadline at the end of April – which is right before the Story-a-day marathon. (But no pressure...)
Until then, I’m happy to rest up for a week or so and not worry about putting words down on paper.
May is soon enough for that and editing can wait.
In the post storm landscape, busted branches hover in trees, sticks and twigs litter the ground and rattle under cars; clumps of seaweed bob like bodies in the calm waters off the beach. (And that’s a disturbing sight, I can tell you.)
I’ve deliberately stayed away from any editing/writing over the past week or so because I’m temporarily over it. I wanted to read something I haven’t written, watch a movie or two, or three or four, guilt free.
I’ve watched Sweeney Todd (a curious movie), The Matrix (gotta love Keanu and the delicious Mr Smith), Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (still indifferent to it), From Dusk until Dawn (George Clooney... sigh) and Dogma (which is in my top five of must sees. It’s brilliant, eloquent and oh, so wicked).
For the moment, I’ve set aside Vicki Pettersson’s City of Souls for some Maggie Shayne re-runs, probably some old Nora, too; a back to the beginning kind of thing. I need to reconnect with why I love writing and reading, be inspired again. And to relax, which, I confess, I’m not very good at. Posting stuff ‘out there’ is stressful because you’re presenting work for judgement – the good and the bad – and four books in six months has plum done wored me out.
I feel better for not rushing into the next book, for focussing on other things. I’m aware of another deadline at the end of April – which is right before the Story-a-day marathon. (But no pressure...)
Until then, I’m happy to rest up for a week or so and not worry about putting words down on paper.
May is soon enough for that and editing can wait.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Elemental Elements
I went another round with the weather tonight, and I must ask: why does this happen when I'm feeling, well, second hand?
We've played host to family for the last few days, so it's been late nights and... way too much of the vino.
I didn't wake up with a hangover (yay!), but the tiredness of a very late night lingered. Figured an early night would do me, but that was before the mightiest thunderstorm evah.
How mighty? The noise of wind and rain overwhelmed the sound of thunder - and the falling branch into the front yard. Within ten minutes, the water level out the back rose three inches to lap at the back door.
Tiredness fled under the "Oh, shit!" moment. On with the gumboots and out into the water, icy rain, howling gale and bright strobes of lightning. I'm becoming very handy with the yard broom, sweeping the water around the side of the house and down the driveway for the next half hour.
The street drains were simply overwhelmed by the volume of water; the lone car (a 4WD) crept along the street because it couldn't see far enough through the sheets of rain and falling debris from the trees. Storms arrive fast and ferocious here, but are over relatively quickly.
For the second time this month, we've water damage in the back room, and with this storm, damage from water coming in under the front door.
Tomorrow, I'm putting in some remediation pipes. I'm over the neighbour's excess rainwater gushing into the backyard. Sure, according to my weather records February is the wettest month of the year and we probably won't get such a downfall again until this time next year, but climate changes and I'm not entirely confident in the Bureau of Meteorology: they cancelled the severe thunderstorm warning at 5.30 this afternoon - this torrent came two hours later.
What a way to end the Summer...
We've played host to family for the last few days, so it's been late nights and... way too much of the vino.
I didn't wake up with a hangover (yay!), but the tiredness of a very late night lingered. Figured an early night would do me, but that was before the mightiest thunderstorm evah.
How mighty? The noise of wind and rain overwhelmed the sound of thunder - and the falling branch into the front yard. Within ten minutes, the water level out the back rose three inches to lap at the back door.
Tiredness fled under the "Oh, shit!" moment. On with the gumboots and out into the water, icy rain, howling gale and bright strobes of lightning. I'm becoming very handy with the yard broom, sweeping the water around the side of the house and down the driveway for the next half hour.
The street drains were simply overwhelmed by the volume of water; the lone car (a 4WD) crept along the street because it couldn't see far enough through the sheets of rain and falling debris from the trees. Storms arrive fast and ferocious here, but are over relatively quickly.
For the second time this month, we've water damage in the back room, and with this storm, damage from water coming in under the front door.
Tomorrow, I'm putting in some remediation pipes. I'm over the neighbour's excess rainwater gushing into the backyard. Sure, according to my weather records February is the wettest month of the year and we probably won't get such a downfall again until this time next year, but climate changes and I'm not entirely confident in the Bureau of Meteorology: they cancelled the severe thunderstorm warning at 5.30 this afternoon - this torrent came two hours later.
What a way to end the Summer...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Out there
Sometimes, I have nothing to write on the blog, even as I have plenty to say.
I've always thought this by Silvan Engel is appropriate: It is better to be silent, and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.
I prefer - mostly - to stay away from the topics of sex, religion and politics; all are personal and all reveal bias, which is why they are taboo topics at a dinner party. Like everyone else, I get bent out of shape with those subjects and I'm unwilling to engage in arguments that descend into rectitude. The topic I refuse to discuss have been the global financial crisis, government debt, climate change, homosexuals in the armed forces, the bestowing of sainthood on Mary McKillop - and the people on the pulpit thundering out their views. Just so you know.
So. Lip: buttoned. And no post for a week.
In the e-mail box today is the latest Writer's Digest. It has some interesting links. Brian Klems at Questions and Quandries informs us of the difference between lay, lie and laid. He also has a nice sidebar list should you need answers to other questions you might have.
How about the do's and don'ts of writing a synopsis? With the global economy still in a slump, writing dollars are hard to come by, so try 5 Ideas for unconventional writing success.
James Plath begins his article on 21 Tips to Get Out of the Slush Pile with some good advice:
During the 16 years that I edited Clockwatch Review, I often found myself wishing that every writer could work as an editor for a year. After all, it's impossible to read 60-plus manuscripts daily and not develop a pretty fair sense of what makes a short story work.
I'm guessing every editor feels the same. Just because you've written a book, doesn't mean it's publishable. The list he presents is excellent.
Writer's Digest, on occasion, has very little I'm interested in; then it hits the jackpot. Go. Read. Inwardly absorb and become the best writer you can be.
I've always thought this by Silvan Engel is appropriate: It is better to be silent, and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.
I prefer - mostly - to stay away from the topics of sex, religion and politics; all are personal and all reveal bias, which is why they are taboo topics at a dinner party. Like everyone else, I get bent out of shape with those subjects and I'm unwilling to engage in arguments that descend into rectitude. The topic I refuse to discuss have been the global financial crisis, government debt, climate change, homosexuals in the armed forces, the bestowing of sainthood on Mary McKillop - and the people on the pulpit thundering out their views. Just so you know.
So. Lip: buttoned. And no post for a week.
In the e-mail box today is the latest Writer's Digest. It has some interesting links. Brian Klems at Questions and Quandries informs us of the difference between lay, lie and laid. He also has a nice sidebar list should you need answers to other questions you might have.
How about the do's and don'ts of writing a synopsis? With the global economy still in a slump, writing dollars are hard to come by, so try 5 Ideas for unconventional writing success.
James Plath begins his article on 21 Tips to Get Out of the Slush Pile with some good advice:
During the 16 years that I edited Clockwatch Review, I often found myself wishing that every writer could work as an editor for a year. After all, it's impossible to read 60-plus manuscripts daily and not develop a pretty fair sense of what makes a short story work.
I'm guessing every editor feels the same. Just because you've written a book, doesn't mean it's publishable. The list he presents is excellent.
Writer's Digest, on occasion, has very little I'm interested in; then it hits the jackpot. Go. Read. Inwardly absorb and become the best writer you can be.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
History as fiction
Every week, I take myself off to the local maritime museum to work on their newsletter. It’s part current events and part history – and yeah, okay, I do both.
When I put my historian’s hat on, I spend a lot of time on the National Library of Australia’s newspaper archive site. It. Is. Amazing! - oh, and distracting with the life and times...
I’m currently working on the people who started the shipbuilding industry in the local area, and the NLA’s site, plus the State Records Office, have provided me with lots of information to wallow in.
Obviously, this is not fictional writing here, but wait, there’s a point. Let me tell you a little story:
In 1816, James Dent was sent to Australia, convicted of forging banknotes. Four years later, he was granted a Conditional Pardon – that is, he was allowed to wander the colony, but not leave it. In 1820, he married and in 1824, moved out of the main township of Sydney to the Cooks River where he leased a farm.
His neighbour was one Dr Robert Wardell. Wardell and another lawyer, William Charles Wentworth, started the Australian newspaper and proceeded to criticise the Governor of NSW, General Ralph Darling, for his attempts at running the penal colony as a military camp.
In 1828, two separate incidents happened: James Dent was sent to trial for stealing timber from Dr Wardell’s property (he and two co-conspirators were caught when a constable, charging through the bush after a bushranger, found one cutting timber and tossing it over the fence to Dent’s side.) On the same day, a convict named John Jenkins was sentenced to three years transportation to Newcastle for robbing a fellow inmate.
Move forward in time to 1834. John Jenkins has returned. He and two other men are camped on... Dr Wardell’s land. Dr Wardell sets out to inspect his land and come upon the trio. An altercation takes place and Dr Wardell is shot dead. Jenkins and one other are convicted and sentenced to execution after the youngest member turns informer.
James had nothing to do with the crime. He died in 1837. His wife, Elizabeth, marries twice more before dying in 1858. She is buried at St Peter’s near Cooks River.
A son of James, George, eventually came down to the Huskisson area and began cutting timber for the new shipbuilding industry, and started constructing ships – an industry that lasted until the 1960s.
Now then. One of Australia’s greatest architects was Edmund Blacket. He designed and built a good portion of the cathedrals of NSW, including St Andrew’s at Sydney University. What’s interesting is that in 1875, he refurbished... St Peter’s near Cooks River. His son, Cyril, was also an architect and lived... near Huskisson, designing and building a lot of the houses here, including the local church.
History has a lot of co-incidences that seem incredible.
To me, this story is a metaphor for fiction: Wardell, Darling and Blacket are all listed in the Australian Biographical Dictionary – and rightly so; each man built a little piece of this country and left a legacy still recognised today. They are Literature.
Dent and Jenkins aren’t; they are unknown, forgotten, and yet stamped their own mark on history – they are Pulp Fiction.
The difference between the two groups is that one are written about, known about, are famous for what they did rather than who they are; the second group are no more than items in old newspapers or convict records, but are more interesting because of their connections to fame, because of who they are, more than what they did.
Two disparate groups: Literature filled with accomplishment, stories of conflict and noble triumph or bitter tragedy of ambitious men in building a new land; and clinging to Literature’s lower leg, Pulp Fiction, filled with struggle, action, mistakes, happily-ever-after and a villain brought to account, events repeated throughout colonial history. Common to virtually every convict family who also struggled to build a life for themselves in a new land.
One couldn’t survive without the other. Without Pulp Fiction, Literature has no basis; without Literature, Pulp Fiction has nothing to aspire to.
History is made up of both: the luminaries who came to Australia to ensure its’ success and guide the colony, and the convicts and free settlers, who did the labour and built the structures, who farmed the land, who desired to be free.
As a writer and part-time historian, I’m more fascinated with Pulp Fiction than Literati, because it is Pulp Fiction who move the nation without recognition, who have the gritty, complicated lives that engage the emotions – despite Literature thinking I should read it instead.
When I put my historian’s hat on, I spend a lot of time on the National Library of Australia’s newspaper archive site. It. Is. Amazing! - oh, and distracting with the life and times...
I’m currently working on the people who started the shipbuilding industry in the local area, and the NLA’s site, plus the State Records Office, have provided me with lots of information to wallow in.
Obviously, this is not fictional writing here, but wait, there’s a point. Let me tell you a little story:
In 1816, James Dent was sent to Australia, convicted of forging banknotes. Four years later, he was granted a Conditional Pardon – that is, he was allowed to wander the colony, but not leave it. In 1820, he married and in 1824, moved out of the main township of Sydney to the Cooks River where he leased a farm.
His neighbour was one Dr Robert Wardell. Wardell and another lawyer, William Charles Wentworth, started the Australian newspaper and proceeded to criticise the Governor of NSW, General Ralph Darling, for his attempts at running the penal colony as a military camp.
In 1828, two separate incidents happened: James Dent was sent to trial for stealing timber from Dr Wardell’s property (he and two co-conspirators were caught when a constable, charging through the bush after a bushranger, found one cutting timber and tossing it over the fence to Dent’s side.) On the same day, a convict named John Jenkins was sentenced to three years transportation to Newcastle for robbing a fellow inmate.
Move forward in time to 1834. John Jenkins has returned. He and two other men are camped on... Dr Wardell’s land. Dr Wardell sets out to inspect his land and come upon the trio. An altercation takes place and Dr Wardell is shot dead. Jenkins and one other are convicted and sentenced to execution after the youngest member turns informer.
James had nothing to do with the crime. He died in 1837. His wife, Elizabeth, marries twice more before dying in 1858. She is buried at St Peter’s near Cooks River.
A son of James, George, eventually came down to the Huskisson area and began cutting timber for the new shipbuilding industry, and started constructing ships – an industry that lasted until the 1960s.
Now then. One of Australia’s greatest architects was Edmund Blacket. He designed and built a good portion of the cathedrals of NSW, including St Andrew’s at Sydney University. What’s interesting is that in 1875, he refurbished... St Peter’s near Cooks River. His son, Cyril, was also an architect and lived... near Huskisson, designing and building a lot of the houses here, including the local church.
History has a lot of co-incidences that seem incredible.
To me, this story is a metaphor for fiction: Wardell, Darling and Blacket are all listed in the Australian Biographical Dictionary – and rightly so; each man built a little piece of this country and left a legacy still recognised today. They are Literature.
Dent and Jenkins aren’t; they are unknown, forgotten, and yet stamped their own mark on history – they are Pulp Fiction.
The difference between the two groups is that one are written about, known about, are famous for what they did rather than who they are; the second group are no more than items in old newspapers or convict records, but are more interesting because of their connections to fame, because of who they are, more than what they did.
Two disparate groups: Literature filled with accomplishment, stories of conflict and noble triumph or bitter tragedy of ambitious men in building a new land; and clinging to Literature’s lower leg, Pulp Fiction, filled with struggle, action, mistakes, happily-ever-after and a villain brought to account, events repeated throughout colonial history. Common to virtually every convict family who also struggled to build a life for themselves in a new land.
One couldn’t survive without the other. Without Pulp Fiction, Literature has no basis; without Literature, Pulp Fiction has nothing to aspire to.
History is made up of both: the luminaries who came to Australia to ensure its’ success and guide the colony, and the convicts and free settlers, who did the labour and built the structures, who farmed the land, who desired to be free.
As a writer and part-time historian, I’m more fascinated with Pulp Fiction than Literati, because it is Pulp Fiction who move the nation without recognition, who have the gritty, complicated lives that engage the emotions – despite Literature thinking I should read it instead.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Book posted
Finally. After problems with converting Spring's Reign to .pdf and then difficulty uploading the sucker, it's posted on Scribd.
Ahh... sweet relief - even if it is raining. Again. I can go off, do a happy dance - or maybe not, the weather gods might think it a rain dance and do something I'll regret.
I think I'll put my feet up and read a book, or the newspaper, or watch a movie or anything I damn-well please until I decide what's next. Actually, I already know. I'm just trying not to think about it yet.
Writing one book, editing four and posting them all within six months is kind of draining, even if the results were... mixed.
Ahh... sweet relief - even if it is raining. Again. I can go off, do a happy dance - or maybe not, the weather gods might think it a rain dance and do something I'll regret.
I think I'll put my feet up and read a book, or the newspaper, or watch a movie or anything I damn-well please until I decide what's next. Actually, I already know. I'm just trying not to think about it yet.
Writing one book, editing four and posting them all within six months is kind of draining, even if the results were... mixed.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Lizard thinking
Printed out a final draft - I'll be reading it tonight and tomorrow for last minute corrections - and went ahead with the cover. Since this is the last of four books, I intended that all cover fonts and pictures match.
Oh... the horror!!! For previous books, I used a different computer, with an art package and fonts. Of course, when I tried to start the damn thing, it pouted, crossed its arms and said 'Nup'. After trying everything, I had to admit defeat.
My own damn fault. I changed to the laptop for convenience and because the desktop was making whiney-ass noises. Now, it won't go at all. I think I killed it; killed it stone-motherless-dead.
I set the desktop aside and did some pouting of my own.
Now, it's hot and humid here, tropical even; just moving around produces sweat - and a lizard.
Lizard?? Yes. A Blue Tongue, in fact. The garden has about five that sneak out of the garage to ambush snails and slugs (although, I don't suppose snails would rear in surprise and make a dash for the tomatoes - funny image though).
Because it's hot, I opened the front door - but not the security screen - and the back door - which doesn't have a security screen - to allow a sea breeze to pass through.
While pouting at the tragedy of a dead computer, I heard a rustle and glanced down. I looked at the Blue Tongue, and it looked at me. Then it made a dash for the couch. Those things are fast.
It took half an hour to remove the beastie back into the garden, but the sudden change in thought processes did the job.
I remembered the handy-dandy font software I bought... mmm... years ago. Sixteen hundred fonts to choose from and import. Oh, frabjous day, calloo-callay!!
Cover's done.
All I need do, is a final run through and the book should be posted on Scribd by the midnight deadline.
Oh... the horror!!! For previous books, I used a different computer, with an art package and fonts. Of course, when I tried to start the damn thing, it pouted, crossed its arms and said 'Nup'. After trying everything, I had to admit defeat.
My own damn fault. I changed to the laptop for convenience and because the desktop was making whiney-ass noises. Now, it won't go at all. I think I killed it; killed it stone-motherless-dead.
I set the desktop aside and did some pouting of my own.
Now, it's hot and humid here, tropical even; just moving around produces sweat - and a lizard.
Lizard?? Yes. A Blue Tongue, in fact. The garden has about five that sneak out of the garage to ambush snails and slugs (although, I don't suppose snails would rear in surprise and make a dash for the tomatoes - funny image though).
Because it's hot, I opened the front door - but not the security screen - and the back door - which doesn't have a security screen - to allow a sea breeze to pass through.
While pouting at the tragedy of a dead computer, I heard a rustle and glanced down. I looked at the Blue Tongue, and it looked at me. Then it made a dash for the couch. Those things are fast.
It took half an hour to remove the beastie back into the garden, but the sudden change in thought processes did the job.
I remembered the handy-dandy font software I bought... mmm... years ago. Sixteen hundred fonts to choose from and import. Oh, frabjous day, calloo-callay!!
Cover's done.
All I need do, is a final run through and the book should be posted on Scribd by the midnight deadline.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Music to edit by
I'm putting in the edits on Spring's Reign. By the weekend, it will be posted and I can turn my attention to something else.
As I put the edits in, I'm listening to some 'old' music. I went through my cd collection - which desperately needs organising - and plucked out stuff I haven't heard in ages.
Ah... not the hippest but these are what I've run through the player:
Shawn Colvin: Steady On
Shawn Colvin: A Few Little Repairs
Aqua: Aquarius
Alan Parsons Project: Turn of a Friendly Card
Fleetwood Mac: Tango in the Night
Mike Oldfield: Voyager
Mike Oldfield: Amarok
The Corrs: Forgiven, not Forgotten
Robbie Williams: Sing When You're Winning
and more modern ones:
Lily Allen: It's Not Me, It's You (The neighbours are probably fed up by now.)
Kelly Clarkson: All I Ever Wanted
Michael Buble: ALL OF THEM!!!
They're getting a bit of a flogging, but I find it relaxing and I can concentrate. So, back to it or I'll miss the deadline.
As I put the edits in, I'm listening to some 'old' music. I went through my cd collection - which desperately needs organising - and plucked out stuff I haven't heard in ages.
Ah... not the hippest but these are what I've run through the player:
Shawn Colvin: Steady On
Shawn Colvin: A Few Little Repairs
Aqua: Aquarius
Alan Parsons Project: Turn of a Friendly Card
Fleetwood Mac: Tango in the Night
Mike Oldfield: Voyager
Mike Oldfield: Amarok
The Corrs: Forgiven, not Forgotten
Robbie Williams: Sing When You're Winning
and more modern ones:
Lily Allen: It's Not Me, It's You (The neighbours are probably fed up by now.)
Kelly Clarkson: All I Ever Wanted
Michael Buble: ALL OF THEM!!!
They're getting a bit of a flogging, but I find it relaxing and I can concentrate. So, back to it or I'll miss the deadline.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
'sup?
Finally, the rain has ceased for the time being. This morning dawned sunny, right before a sea mist rolled in, a sure indicator of a hot and humid day.
We've had more than twice the monthly average for rainfall and eight days of the stuff out of nine. Everything has that dampness about it that reminds me of England. I'm just about to get someone from Seattle to send me the t-shirt: In Seattle, you don't tan, you rust. Coz, I'm feelin' ya.
I can categorically say: "I am over Summer." I want the coolth of Winter, the bitey mornings and cheek-nipping breezes. I want the scent of burning leaves and mown grass. I want the sun to rise later and set earlier... okay, it's doing that now, but I want it to be obvious. I guess I'll have to be patient.
Edits are on track for Friday - barring any unforeseen screw ups.
Oh, and as for the Super Bowl I watched. Can you say, Cha-ching-ing-ing! Who dat?
We've had more than twice the monthly average for rainfall and eight days of the stuff out of nine. Everything has that dampness about it that reminds me of England. I'm just about to get someone from Seattle to send me the t-shirt: In Seattle, you don't tan, you rust. Coz, I'm feelin' ya.
I can categorically say: "I am over Summer." I want the coolth of Winter, the bitey mornings and cheek-nipping breezes. I want the scent of burning leaves and mown grass. I want the sun to rise later and set earlier... okay, it's doing that now, but I want it to be obvious. I guess I'll have to be patient.
Edits are on track for Friday - barring any unforeseen screw ups.
Oh, and as for the Super Bowl I watched. Can you say, Cha-ching-ing-ing! Who dat?
Monday, February 08, 2010
Fantasy in Death
I love a good locked door mystery and J.D. Robb's Fantasy in Death delivers.
Long time friends Bart, Cill, Var and Benny are on the verge of releasing a state-of-art holo-game. Bart tests the game in the isolation and secured holo-room of his locked apartment and is killed. There are no clues. No weapon, no evidence of an intruder, no witnesses, nothing.
This is the crime super-cop, Lt. Eve Dallas, investigates with a little help from husband, Roarke. His input is more as a consultant and assists Feeney off screen. Eve struggles to understand e-tech, as always, but it is because she doesn't understand the environment that she can think of the unusual solution. I had my own suspects, but didn't truly settle on one until late in the book. Canny readers will pick up on the pivotal moment.
Fans of J.D. Robb will be excused for thinking this book is familiar with a particular scenario in the first of the series, Naked in Death, I know it rang a bell with me - but when you consider the two-year time frame, it's not such a leap.
I would have given the book five stars, except for the laziness of the copy-editor. This English version has unfortunate carriage returns in the middle of sentences, words that need spaces in between and comma issues. There are also problems with 'voice'. At one stage, I couldn't tell who was speaking, Roarke or Eve. Roarke doesn't have the speech patterns from previous books and the concept of 'friendship' is a bit belaboured.
Overall - if you can ignore the copy-edit problems - the story is a great read and fans will be satisfied.
Long time friends Bart, Cill, Var and Benny are on the verge of releasing a state-of-art holo-game. Bart tests the game in the isolation and secured holo-room of his locked apartment and is killed. There are no clues. No weapon, no evidence of an intruder, no witnesses, nothing.
This is the crime super-cop, Lt. Eve Dallas, investigates with a little help from husband, Roarke. His input is more as a consultant and assists Feeney off screen. Eve struggles to understand e-tech, as always, but it is because she doesn't understand the environment that she can think of the unusual solution. I had my own suspects, but didn't truly settle on one until late in the book. Canny readers will pick up on the pivotal moment.
Fans of J.D. Robb will be excused for thinking this book is familiar with a particular scenario in the first of the series, Naked in Death, I know it rang a bell with me - but when you consider the two-year time frame, it's not such a leap.
I would have given the book five stars, except for the laziness of the copy-editor. This English version has unfortunate carriage returns in the middle of sentences, words that need spaces in between and comma issues. There are also problems with 'voice'. At one stage, I couldn't tell who was speaking, Roarke or Eve. Roarke doesn't have the speech patterns from previous books and the concept of 'friendship' is a bit belaboured.
Overall - if you can ignore the copy-edit problems - the story is a great read and fans will be satisfied.
Friday, February 05, 2010
Rain, rain, and more bloody rain
The last twenty four hours we've had buckets of rain, 100mm in twelve hours. Not much sleep since I had to check the back drains at midnight, 3.00 and again at 6.00.
The house is set on flat ground, with the rainwater run off coming through the backyard since builders behind us changed the natural watercourse some years ago. It's been eight or nine years since so much rain fell in a short time.
October I was out checking the drains, but the rain eased mid-evening.
The humidity is still high and we have a severe weather warning for the rest of the day. Sigh.
I'm hoping my beans and brussel sprouts survive - I only planted them at lunchtime yesterday, before the bucketing. The veggie patch is looking waterlogged.
On the editing front, I have about three chapters to do in this draft. I'll set it aside for a day or so and let it simmer... Okay, fine I have J.D. Robb's Fantasy in Death waiting. From all reports, it's an absolute cracker. Work first, then play. Which means, weather warning or not, I need to get back to the editing so I can have my reward.
The house is set on flat ground, with the rainwater run off coming through the backyard since builders behind us changed the natural watercourse some years ago. It's been eight or nine years since so much rain fell in a short time.
October I was out checking the drains, but the rain eased mid-evening.
The humidity is still high and we have a severe weather warning for the rest of the day. Sigh.
I'm hoping my beans and brussel sprouts survive - I only planted them at lunchtime yesterday, before the bucketing. The veggie patch is looking waterlogged.
On the editing front, I have about three chapters to do in this draft. I'll set it aside for a day or so and let it simmer... Okay, fine I have J.D. Robb's Fantasy in Death waiting. From all reports, it's an absolute cracker. Work first, then play. Which means, weather warning or not, I need to get back to the editing so I can have my reward.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wallowing
Nah, no work today. It's raining, a day for lazing on the couch and watching DVDs.
So: Terminator Salvation - DVD has an impurity, so I watched maybe half and it froze. No amount of cleaning or change of player would get it going again.
Four Brothers, with Mark Wahlberg. Not bad, but why do script writers have to televise who's going to die? I mean Star Trek has the red shirts, war movies have 'I'm short', or 'let me show you a picture of my girlfriend'?
The Italian Job, I love this movie, so slick and polished and so damned clever. It made me think about other scenarios I could use in writing.
Ice Age 3: Age of the Dinosaurs, What's not to like about animated comedies for kids? I'm gonna get me a copy.
A day off from outside influences, or from my own work is great and I'm trying not to feel guilty. I have the manuscript separated into chapters next me, I probably should have put it somewhere else; but it's ready for tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I think I'll watch Appleseed - the CGI version. I need some more wallow time.
So: Terminator Salvation - DVD has an impurity, so I watched maybe half and it froze. No amount of cleaning or change of player would get it going again.
Four Brothers, with Mark Wahlberg. Not bad, but why do script writers have to televise who's going to die? I mean Star Trek has the red shirts, war movies have 'I'm short', or 'let me show you a picture of my girlfriend'?
The Italian Job, I love this movie, so slick and polished and so damned clever. It made me think about other scenarios I could use in writing.
Ice Age 3: Age of the Dinosaurs, What's not to like about animated comedies for kids? I'm gonna get me a copy.
A day off from outside influences, or from my own work is great and I'm trying not to feel guilty. I have the manuscript separated into chapters next me, I probably should have put it somewhere else; but it's ready for tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I think I'll watch Appleseed - the CGI version. I need some more wallow time.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Missing the Plot
Finally finished the ..th draft of Spring's Reign. Now I can break it down into chapters and sort out the plot line I missed - this is what happens when you don't plan a novel; you get to do more work after you've written the first draft.
How do you miss a plot line? I mean, really? A plot line? Left out? It's actually easy. You get so caught up in the now of the story, in the information to progress the story, you sometimes forget to put in a break; something to interrupt the flow and shake the characters out of their... well, not comfortable situation, but to present the information in a different way, a more active way.
And when you're writing romance, a way to throw the characters closer together. And the missing plot line will do just that.
The draft reads fine as it is now, but in that reading, I felt there was something missing; now I know what it is. Action doesn't have to be biffo, it can be verbal; for my characters, however, travelling thousands of miles together in close confinement, something outside that atmosphere has to happen. And so it will.
Hopefully, it won't affect the direction of the manuscript; that would be... bad.
At this stage, I've added nearly thirty pages, or about ten thousand words. With the added plot line, the word count might lift by another ten to twenty thousand, bringing the book to between 90-100,000. A nice size for the final in the series.
How do you miss a plot line? I mean, really? A plot line? Left out? It's actually easy. You get so caught up in the now of the story, in the information to progress the story, you sometimes forget to put in a break; something to interrupt the flow and shake the characters out of their... well, not comfortable situation, but to present the information in a different way, a more active way.
And when you're writing romance, a way to throw the characters closer together. And the missing plot line will do just that.
The draft reads fine as it is now, but in that reading, I felt there was something missing; now I know what it is. Action doesn't have to be biffo, it can be verbal; for my characters, however, travelling thousands of miles together in close confinement, something outside that atmosphere has to happen. And so it will.
Hopefully, it won't affect the direction of the manuscript; that would be... bad.
At this stage, I've added nearly thirty pages, or about ten thousand words. With the added plot line, the word count might lift by another ten to twenty thousand, bringing the book to between 90-100,000. A nice size for the final in the series.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Aussie Day
Whoo-hoo! Australia Day! So I worked on the manuscript this morning and then big sis turned up with Lamington cupcakes, home made bread, Dijon mustard and franks for hot dogs. Not exactly Aussie fare (she picked up a pork pie for the maternal influencer - her being British and all) but we were actually sitting down to watch a replay of the American Football match between Indianapolis and New York.
Sadly, we were going for the Jets.
I did get to watch the Vikings/Saints match live yesterday, and wow, what a game! Might have to watch the reply of that one on Saturday.
Yes, I know it's Australia's day, but we had the lamoes and I did watch the cricket. And this is a multicultural country full of wonder cuisines and cultures that blend well with our own and make this country... great. So the Italian Pasta tonight with the American Football today isn't odd, just all part of the scenery.
I'm not one for the beach or the sun given the basal cell carcinoma removal from under my eye a couple of years ago - the sun is not my friend any more. The best I can do is watch vicariously via the teev. To wit, the above picture of the Great Sydney Ferry Race. Buckets of small boats and tall ships on the Harbour to watch.
It matters not who wins, but the sheer enjoyment of being on the water.
Now, I'm back at the desk, beavering away. I've spotted at least one plot that's missing and I'll have to go back and put it in once I'm done with this draft. It will make the book larger, but by the end of this draft, it will have more pages than the other three. There'll be other stuff I've missed, too, and the notes are growing.
I have to get back to it. Tonight, there will be fireworks and bubbly and I fully expect to become 'tired and emotional' since the parent doesn't drink much...
What? I can't let a bottle of bubbly go to waste, now can I?
Monday, January 25, 2010
Bad torrent
Jeez, I'm a lazy snot, but in my defence, I have been a wee bit busy to update the blog.
My mother once told me I analyse stuff to death - then analyse why it died. Which is pretty much true. In the interests of upholding the vice, I'm being nagged by the success of Winter's Heart over on the Scribd page.
And yeah, I've mentioned it before and it's still nagging. The book has enjoyed a recent spike in readings and I'm at a loss to work out why, since the prequel and sequel aren't doing much at all.
There's a big gap, however, in reading and downloads, so all I can do is speculate that peeps are reading all or a part on-line and not keeping a copy.
I also know that the books are listed on other torrent sites (places with fast downloads) - along with other author's works that I doubt they know about.
This is going to be a major problem for the publishing industry. For free works, no big; for just released in the book store, yeah, it's big. I imagine some of the people are either typing or scanning in books to post free, and I did see a Nora Roberts book freely available less than a week after it came out in the stores.
Add to that an argument I saw last year on Amazon where a poster was offering a book - can't remember whose - free to anyone who e-mailed him. His position was that, since he'd paid for it, he could do whatever he wanted with it. Others rightly said he was infringing copyright. The poster resentfully stuck to his position, ignoring the suggestion that if books were constantly being bought and offered free, there was no financial incentive for authors to continue writing. Eventually, the poster disappeared - no doubt to a torrent site.
How does an author protect their work in this age of electronic sophistication? How much money would it take to shut down the torrent networks?
One suggestion could be to halt traditional book publishing and encode e-books with a limited use security code. If people want an actual book, print-on-demand companies could print up the book, say, a year after the e-book came out - like the hardback/paperback system.
The downside would be the death of bookstores; they'd have to move from the traditional market to an ordering market - and how successful would that be?
As a new writer who hopes to be published one day, the future actually looks more bleak and scary than ever. I can post a book to Scribd or any of the other e-book sites, have six thousand reads, and not make a red cent for it. If I put it up for sale, the future will be six thousand reads and still not make much money because it's listed for free somewhere else.
I think, for now, I'll ignore what's going on and keep trying for the sensual feel of my first traditionally published book in my hands. It's a dream.
My mother once told me I analyse stuff to death - then analyse why it died. Which is pretty much true. In the interests of upholding the vice, I'm being nagged by the success of Winter's Heart over on the Scribd page.
And yeah, I've mentioned it before and it's still nagging. The book has enjoyed a recent spike in readings and I'm at a loss to work out why, since the prequel and sequel aren't doing much at all.
There's a big gap, however, in reading and downloads, so all I can do is speculate that peeps are reading all or a part on-line and not keeping a copy.
I also know that the books are listed on other torrent sites (places with fast downloads) - along with other author's works that I doubt they know about.
This is going to be a major problem for the publishing industry. For free works, no big; for just released in the book store, yeah, it's big. I imagine some of the people are either typing or scanning in books to post free, and I did see a Nora Roberts book freely available less than a week after it came out in the stores.
Add to that an argument I saw last year on Amazon where a poster was offering a book - can't remember whose - free to anyone who e-mailed him. His position was that, since he'd paid for it, he could do whatever he wanted with it. Others rightly said he was infringing copyright. The poster resentfully stuck to his position, ignoring the suggestion that if books were constantly being bought and offered free, there was no financial incentive for authors to continue writing. Eventually, the poster disappeared - no doubt to a torrent site.
How does an author protect their work in this age of electronic sophistication? How much money would it take to shut down the torrent networks?
One suggestion could be to halt traditional book publishing and encode e-books with a limited use security code. If people want an actual book, print-on-demand companies could print up the book, say, a year after the e-book came out - like the hardback/paperback system.
The downside would be the death of bookstores; they'd have to move from the traditional market to an ordering market - and how successful would that be?
As a new writer who hopes to be published one day, the future actually looks more bleak and scary than ever. I can post a book to Scribd or any of the other e-book sites, have six thousand reads, and not make a red cent for it. If I put it up for sale, the future will be six thousand reads and still not make much money because it's listed for free somewhere else.
I think, for now, I'll ignore what's going on and keep trying for the sensual feel of my first traditionally published book in my hands. It's a dream.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Timing and research
I'm into the second draft. Joy. And it's all about timing. The timeline. Oh, and maps, roads, rivers, cuisine, hotels - a right little tourist guide to Brazil. sigh It seemed like a good idea at the time...
Fortunately, there aren't too many Post-It notes scattering the manuscript. I figure they'll come in the next draft when I break down the chapters.
I also figure I have two, maybe three, weeks before peeps start asking me where the book is - but no pressure.
I must be doing something right, though, because it seems like every time I turn the teev on, there's something about the Amazon. I've learned an awful lot of stuff - some I knew already, but a lot of it new - like the Amazon being the size of Australia! Survivorman and Bushcraft with Ray Meares have been invaluable, as has Wikipedia and other research sites. (I'm currently feeling too lazy to put it links.)
GoogleEarth is terrific. I can see where the jungle is and the roads and rivers that carve through the territory. It's an impressive place and while I'd like to say it's on my Bucket List... it's not. I'm not a fan of hot, humid places that have icky things like massive social spider webs. Squicks me out on a major scale - even writing about it gave me the heebie-jeebies - and I still have to do a little bit more research on them. (Insert shudder here.)
So... if all goes well, Spring's Reign will be up on Scribd by the 13th February. I still have some real life issues to deal with that may get in the way, but I'm working towards the date as a goal. Following that, then I'll get to the rest of the promised works.
It's good to be busy; now I need to insert some Brazilian cuisine into the book.
Fortunately, there aren't too many Post-It notes scattering the manuscript. I figure they'll come in the next draft when I break down the chapters.
I also figure I have two, maybe three, weeks before peeps start asking me where the book is - but no pressure.
I must be doing something right, though, because it seems like every time I turn the teev on, there's something about the Amazon. I've learned an awful lot of stuff - some I knew already, but a lot of it new - like the Amazon being the size of Australia! Survivorman and Bushcraft with Ray Meares have been invaluable, as has Wikipedia and other research sites. (I'm currently feeling too lazy to put it links.)
GoogleEarth is terrific. I can see where the jungle is and the roads and rivers that carve through the territory. It's an impressive place and while I'd like to say it's on my Bucket List... it's not. I'm not a fan of hot, humid places that have icky things like massive social spider webs. Squicks me out on a major scale - even writing about it gave me the heebie-jeebies - and I still have to do a little bit more research on them. (Insert shudder here.)
So... if all goes well, Spring's Reign will be up on Scribd by the 13th February. I still have some real life issues to deal with that may get in the way, but I'm working towards the date as a goal. Following that, then I'll get to the rest of the promised works.
It's good to be busy; now I need to insert some Brazilian cuisine into the book.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Wisdom of ages
Here it is, the middle of January, and the overnight temperature dropped to a few degrees above zero.
Plenty of family time this past weekend, like the weekend before. We live less than a hundred metres from the beach so in Summer, peeps come for the sun. More rellos are popping up this weekend too.
Plus I've been busily editing... it's all go...
But, I've been watching a program called Elders. The introduction says it all:
"We live in a society that worships youth. On television, in magazines, in advertisements and on billboards, what sells and what is sold to us is youth. But in some cultures it is the elders of the community who are valued and whose wisdom is sought. In this series we are going to seek out six prominent elders of our tribe, each over the age of 65 to see what life has taught them. Welcome to the elders."
We've heard from Alan Alda, Sir David Attenborough and Bob Hawke (didn't watch that one - I don't like him at all).
Last night, Andrew Denton spoke with the incomparable Helen Thomas. What a fascinating woman.
A lot of people outside of the U.S. probably don't know who she is, but would probably remember the old lady, hunched over, in the front row of White House Press Briefings, grilling whoever is at the podium.
It's sometimes magical to watch. Helen will ask the same question, in ten different ways; and be given the same answer... in ten different ways. What is astonishing is the respect and accord given to Ms Thomas. I've never heard a speaker treat her with impatience or condescension - even as some commentators do.
At age 89, she's still working, still as wily as a fox and still asking the awkward questions. Ms Thomas is a journalists journalist - and age has not wearied her. What she says in the interview is sometimes pointed:
ANDREW DENTON: The old saying that that power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely. Do you believe that’s true?
HELEN THOMAS: Yeah. I think it can. I’ve seen people men go into the Oval Office with some trepidation. In a couple of days they think they’re President and they think that’s all powerful and people worship at their shrine and every wish is a command, no yeah I think very corrupting.
ANDREW DENTON: Who have you seen most changed by that office?
HELEN THOMAS: This man. I think he thinks he’s President and he’s led us into a very b-big quagmire morass.
It was an excellent interview and I wanted to hear more. Half an hour isn't nearly long enough to listen to all the fascinating things that happen in our eminent seniors' lives. Maybe if more young people paid attention to the older generations, things would be much more happier, if not livelier.
So next week, we get to hear from Dame Elisabeth Murdoch. Rupie's mum. He's 78; Elisabeth is 100. Should be interesting.
Plenty of family time this past weekend, like the weekend before. We live less than a hundred metres from the beach so in Summer, peeps come for the sun. More rellos are popping up this weekend too.
Plus I've been busily editing... it's all go...
But, I've been watching a program called Elders. The introduction says it all:
"We live in a society that worships youth. On television, in magazines, in advertisements and on billboards, what sells and what is sold to us is youth. But in some cultures it is the elders of the community who are valued and whose wisdom is sought. In this series we are going to seek out six prominent elders of our tribe, each over the age of 65 to see what life has taught them. Welcome to the elders."
We've heard from Alan Alda, Sir David Attenborough and Bob Hawke (didn't watch that one - I don't like him at all).
Last night, Andrew Denton spoke with the incomparable Helen Thomas. What a fascinating woman.
A lot of people outside of the U.S. probably don't know who she is, but would probably remember the old lady, hunched over, in the front row of White House Press Briefings, grilling whoever is at the podium.
It's sometimes magical to watch. Helen will ask the same question, in ten different ways; and be given the same answer... in ten different ways. What is astonishing is the respect and accord given to Ms Thomas. I've never heard a speaker treat her with impatience or condescension - even as some commentators do.
At age 89, she's still working, still as wily as a fox and still asking the awkward questions. Ms Thomas is a journalists journalist - and age has not wearied her. What she says in the interview is sometimes pointed:
ANDREW DENTON: The old saying that that power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely. Do you believe that’s true?
HELEN THOMAS: Yeah. I think it can. I’ve seen people men go into the Oval Office with some trepidation. In a couple of days they think they’re President and they think that’s all powerful and people worship at their shrine and every wish is a command, no yeah I think very corrupting.
ANDREW DENTON: Who have you seen most changed by that office?
HELEN THOMAS: This man. I think he thinks he’s President and he’s led us into a very b-big quagmire morass.
It was an excellent interview and I wanted to hear more. Half an hour isn't nearly long enough to listen to all the fascinating things that happen in our eminent seniors' lives. Maybe if more young people paid attention to the older generations, things would be much more happier, if not livelier.
So next week, we get to hear from Dame Elisabeth Murdoch. Rupie's mum. He's 78; Elisabeth is 100. Should be interesting.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A great idea!
So where do ideas come from? What makes one thought more special than another? How do authors take that one blip and turn it into a best seller?
Short answer: dunno.
Long answer: every author has a different way of going about the craft of generating ideas. There are ideas everywhere - and I should point out here and now that there is no copyright on ideas - from a sleeper's dreams to the overheard conversation to watching a bird take flight to the shopping mall, anything can generate the first kernel of a story.
That well of 'what if' never runs dry because we are surrounded by stimulus all the time.
It's true that writing is ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration. Writing is hard work. Sitting for hours at a time, focusing on 'what happens next', is no easy task. The imagination is running off in particular directions - sometimes to a point you didn't expect, sometimes into a brick wall and sometimes it just works.
Writers are observers as much as participants in the world, we just view it a little bit differently. We look for motives, we look for action, for romance, for tragedy and redemption. We hear conversations from imaginary people, demands from villains who aren't there, confessions, plots, plans from thin air. We see fantastic landscapes, architecture, vehicles, weapons. We feel the pain of betrayal, the joy of discovery, the exhaustion of escape and passion of that first kiss; and all of it based in real life and all of it twisted and shaped and bent to our will into something new and lasting.
But no-one can write the story but the individual author. Writers can have the same idea, but the story will be different: C.S. Forester - Alexander Kent - David Weber; all stories based on Nelson, all different. Stephanie Meyer - Maggie Shayne - Charlaine Harris; all stories about vampires and all different. J.R.R Tolkien - Terry Brooks - Robert Jordan; all epic fantasy and all different.
In each case, the authors had similar ideas but wrote individual stories. And while cynics profess that there is 'nothing new under the sun', I propose they are wrong. Each idea is developed differently and into a new creation.
As for turning an idea into a best seller, well, it's timing, it's work and it's sheer, bloody-minded luck. It's up to the author.
Write something; write it now. Take the idea from the conversation you overheard in the post office, newsagent, bus, train or wherever and turn it into something lasting. No one has to see it, but it would be a shame for that idea to be lost. Who knows? That piece of work might be the next Big Thing.
Short answer: dunno.
Long answer: every author has a different way of going about the craft of generating ideas. There are ideas everywhere - and I should point out here and now that there is no copyright on ideas - from a sleeper's dreams to the overheard conversation to watching a bird take flight to the shopping mall, anything can generate the first kernel of a story.
That well of 'what if' never runs dry because we are surrounded by stimulus all the time.
It's true that writing is ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration. Writing is hard work. Sitting for hours at a time, focusing on 'what happens next', is no easy task. The imagination is running off in particular directions - sometimes to a point you didn't expect, sometimes into a brick wall and sometimes it just works.
Writers are observers as much as participants in the world, we just view it a little bit differently. We look for motives, we look for action, for romance, for tragedy and redemption. We hear conversations from imaginary people, demands from villains who aren't there, confessions, plots, plans from thin air. We see fantastic landscapes, architecture, vehicles, weapons. We feel the pain of betrayal, the joy of discovery, the exhaustion of escape and passion of that first kiss; and all of it based in real life and all of it twisted and shaped and bent to our will into something new and lasting.
But no-one can write the story but the individual author. Writers can have the same idea, but the story will be different: C.S. Forester - Alexander Kent - David Weber; all stories based on Nelson, all different. Stephanie Meyer - Maggie Shayne - Charlaine Harris; all stories about vampires and all different. J.R.R Tolkien - Terry Brooks - Robert Jordan; all epic fantasy and all different.
In each case, the authors had similar ideas but wrote individual stories. And while cynics profess that there is 'nothing new under the sun', I propose they are wrong. Each idea is developed differently and into a new creation.
As for turning an idea into a best seller, well, it's timing, it's work and it's sheer, bloody-minded luck. It's up to the author.
Write something; write it now. Take the idea from the conversation you overheard in the post office, newsagent, bus, train or wherever and turn it into something lasting. No one has to see it, but it would be a shame for that idea to be lost. Who knows? That piece of work might be the next Big Thing.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Really, Reilly?
I've been busy over the past week with family issues and family visits; one was fun - the other, was not.
Anyway, in between the worrying and the entertainment I've been reading one of Australia's favourite writers, Matthew Reilly. I've read Ice Station, Area 7, Temple and now I'm up to Contest. His latest book, The Five Greatest Warriors made it to the top of the 2009 bestseller list. That is, it was the top seller for 2009, out selling the likes of Bryce Courtney, Tim Winton and Di Morrissey.
Contest is Reilly's first book to write, but it will be the last one I read.
Reilly's books are roller-coasters of action and adventure, of quests and rescue, of derring-do and fantastical stunts - in fact, I kept hearing the James Bond theme while reading.
It's the inconsistencies that pissed me off. Using Methadone instead of Morphine, a Maghook with amazing capabilities, anatomy that doesn't seem affected by gravity, conversations that no-one but Superman could hear and give a reply, plus more villains tossed in than you can shake a whippy stick at.
But he does the right thing in having cliff-hangers at the end of chapters, characters that seem larger than life, atypical villains, resolutions that are, like, wow! The Abrahams tank falling from the airplane was just gobsmacking. In a lot of places you can see which movie they came from, for example.
These books are terrific for the young adult - if you move passed the bad language - but for those who've read Tom Clancy, Robert Ludlum, Wilbur Smith, or other adventure books, the plot problems leap out and should have been fixed.
I know Elroy said, "I just cut out the boring bits" when he writes, but sometimes, those boring bits serve a purpose if only to get the author to think about whether something is possible or not.
As escapist fiction, they're a sugar rush - if you ignore the impossibilities - but if you like your work with more realism, give them a miss, or give them to the teenagers of the family - it's virtually guarranteed they will love them.
Anyway, in between the worrying and the entertainment I've been reading one of Australia's favourite writers, Matthew Reilly. I've read Ice Station, Area 7, Temple and now I'm up to Contest. His latest book, The Five Greatest Warriors made it to the top of the 2009 bestseller list. That is, it was the top seller for 2009, out selling the likes of Bryce Courtney, Tim Winton and Di Morrissey.
Contest is Reilly's first book to write, but it will be the last one I read.
Reilly's books are roller-coasters of action and adventure, of quests and rescue, of derring-do and fantastical stunts - in fact, I kept hearing the James Bond theme while reading.
It's the inconsistencies that pissed me off. Using Methadone instead of Morphine, a Maghook with amazing capabilities, anatomy that doesn't seem affected by gravity, conversations that no-one but Superman could hear and give a reply, plus more villains tossed in than you can shake a whippy stick at.
But he does the right thing in having cliff-hangers at the end of chapters, characters that seem larger than life, atypical villains, resolutions that are, like, wow! The Abrahams tank falling from the airplane was just gobsmacking. In a lot of places you can see which movie they came from, for example.
These books are terrific for the young adult - if you move passed the bad language - but for those who've read Tom Clancy, Robert Ludlum, Wilbur Smith, or other adventure books, the plot problems leap out and should have been fixed.
I know Elroy said, "I just cut out the boring bits" when he writes, but sometimes, those boring bits serve a purpose if only to get the author to think about whether something is possible or not.
As escapist fiction, they're a sugar rush - if you ignore the impossibilities - but if you like your work with more realism, give them a miss, or give them to the teenagers of the family - it's virtually guarranteed they will love them.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Boobs to Noobs
It's that time of year when the Darwin Awards are announced.
The Darwin Awards "Honors those who improve the species... by accidentally removing themselves from it!"
Two winners this year, both Belgian and both burglars who used too much dynamite to blow up a safe. They did, in fact, demolish the building, too.
With sixteen nominees, 2009 proved to be a year of monumental stupidity. Fortunately, these people have evacuated the gene pool on their own.
* * *
The Macquarie Dictionary has opened voting on the 'word of the year 2009'.
Words like 'noob', 'hypermile', 'cocooning', 'slacktivism', 'climate change denier', 'tweet' are all in the running for word of the year.
The inaugural winners in 2006 are:
General Interest: affluenza
Colloquialism: muffin top
Specialist terms: administrivia
The Political Scene: plausible deniability
Eating and Drinking: ethical eating
Fashion: ubersexual
Travel: envirotourism
Technology: cyberstalking
The Environment: water trading
Sport: blood doping
Health: norovirus
From 2007, the People's Choices:
Business: infomania
Carbon Terms: carbon footprint
Colloquialisms: floordrobe
Eating and Drinking: tart fuel
The Environment: food mile
Fashion: arse antlers
General Interest: password fatigue
Health: incidental exercise
Media: fauxtography
Music: nerdcore
Online: cyber cheating
Politics: Great Firewall of China
Social Scene: slummy mummy
Specialist Terms: facial mapping
Sport: cyberathlete
Technology: bloatware
And 2008:
Entertainment: car crash TV
Business: toxic debt
Colloquial: bromance
Communications: textaholic
Ecology: ecocentrism
Environment: guerilla gardener
Fashion: scene kid
Eating and Drinking: guerilla dining
General Interest: nomophobia
Genetics: divorce gene
Health: baby brain
Internet: lolcat
Law: lawfare
Politics: climate porn
Social Interest: helicopter parenting
Specialist: audiation
Sport: chicken-wing tackle
Technology: uberveillance
Tourism: flashpacker
I know English is a dynamic language, forever changing within generations, but are these words from previous year still with us, hanging around like a toxic debt or have they vanished like the debate on climate change?
The Darwin Awards "Honors those who improve the species... by accidentally removing themselves from it!"
Two winners this year, both Belgian and both burglars who used too much dynamite to blow up a safe. They did, in fact, demolish the building, too.
With sixteen nominees, 2009 proved to be a year of monumental stupidity. Fortunately, these people have evacuated the gene pool on their own.
* * *
The Macquarie Dictionary has opened voting on the 'word of the year 2009'.
Words like 'noob', 'hypermile', 'cocooning', 'slacktivism', 'climate change denier', 'tweet' are all in the running for word of the year.
The inaugural winners in 2006 are:
General Interest: affluenza
Colloquialism: muffin top
Specialist terms: administrivia
The Political Scene: plausible deniability
Eating and Drinking: ethical eating
Fashion: ubersexual
Travel: envirotourism
Technology: cyberstalking
The Environment: water trading
Sport: blood doping
Health: norovirus
From 2007, the People's Choices:
Business: infomania
Carbon Terms: carbon footprint
Colloquialisms: floordrobe
Eating and Drinking: tart fuel
The Environment: food mile
Fashion: arse antlers
General Interest: password fatigue
Health: incidental exercise
Media: fauxtography
Music: nerdcore
Online: cyber cheating
Politics: Great Firewall of China
Social Scene: slummy mummy
Specialist Terms: facial mapping
Sport: cyberathlete
Technology: bloatware
And 2008:
Entertainment: car crash TV
Business: toxic debt
Colloquial: bromance
Communications: textaholic
Ecology: ecocentrism
Environment: guerilla gardener
Fashion: scene kid
Eating and Drinking: guerilla dining
General Interest: nomophobia
Genetics: divorce gene
Health: baby brain
Internet: lolcat
Law: lawfare
Politics: climate porn
Social Interest: helicopter parenting
Specialist: audiation
Sport: chicken-wing tackle
Technology: uberveillance
Tourism: flashpacker
I know English is a dynamic language, forever changing within generations, but are these words from previous year still with us, hanging around like a toxic debt or have they vanished like the debate on climate change?
Sunday, January 03, 2010
And so...
...the time off I set for myself comes to an end - and it's been great. There's still plenty of American Football to see yet, but I shall endeavour to drag myself away and get back to work.
Tomorrow, I will return to manuscripts and red pens, attempting to beat the aforementioned works into submission and some sort of readability.
The thing about writing and editing is that it's initially a solitary event - and that is the key to all writing. You really do have to do the work. No one else can write it nor should they do the first edits. You know what you want to write. And in the editing process, clearing up any vagueness or misunderstandings is what the editing process is for.
A bug-bear of mine is authors justifying what they've written. If a reader doesn't understand something, it should have been explained in the writing, not after it's published. If you do it right in the first place, you don't need to justify anything.
A particular writer - who shall remain nameless - is forever justifying the work, explaining the deviations, and when the questions continue, condemns readers and critics for not understanding. A failing of epic proportions.
And having said that, I have no doubt that the above will come back to bite me. But then, I'm not writing a series that should have died years ago.
I can only hope my trilogies don't suffer the same way. I'd like to think not since I write all three in one go. I've probably said enough...
Oh... look... there's football on the teev...
Tomorrow, I will return to manuscripts and red pens, attempting to beat the aforementioned works into submission and some sort of readability.
The thing about writing and editing is that it's initially a solitary event - and that is the key to all writing. You really do have to do the work. No one else can write it nor should they do the first edits. You know what you want to write. And in the editing process, clearing up any vagueness or misunderstandings is what the editing process is for.
A bug-bear of mine is authors justifying what they've written. If a reader doesn't understand something, it should have been explained in the writing, not after it's published. If you do it right in the first place, you don't need to justify anything.
A particular writer - who shall remain nameless - is forever justifying the work, explaining the deviations, and when the questions continue, condemns readers and critics for not understanding. A failing of epic proportions.
And having said that, I have no doubt that the above will come back to bite me. But then, I'm not writing a series that should have died years ago.
I can only hope my trilogies don't suffer the same way. I'd like to think not since I write all three in one go. I've probably said enough...
Oh... look... there's football on the teev...
Saturday, January 02, 2010
The World
The last time I saw a ship this large in the Bay was the Royal Australian Navy's flagship, HMAS Melbourne - which was an aircraft carrier.
The World stopped off along the coast on its way to Sydney for New Year's Eve, and if you look really closely, or squint, you might even see Matt Damon; yes, that Matt Damon - or someone who apparently is the dead spit of the American actor. Shop owners in Bateman's Bay, further down the coast, aren't entirely sure because we rarely get international megastars, or if we do, the locals have doubts. I mean, really? A movie star? Here?
We just don't get stars here. Elsewhere has much more to offer the discerning traveller. This virtually assures well-known faces of anonymity. Okay, we have an internationally renowned marine park, a national park, white sand beaches, blue waters, not much population, various water sports, spectacular views, museums... um, right, we do have attractions, but don't tell anyone; privacy is also one of our attractions.
I'd be interested to know of any star sightings in our own little part of the world. People here will probably have the same attitude as down south in the fish and chippery:
"Hey, anyone tell you, you look like Matt Damon?"
Enigmatic smile.
"You must get told that a lot. You want salt on those chips?"
Friday, January 01, 2010
A New Day
Happy New Year to all. 2009 was a hell of a year and I'm glad it's over.
Time to plan for new stuff - not resolutions, who sticks to them?
Anyway. Last night it was like a war zone here. Fireworks went off from all directions, like gunshots, with machine-gun intensity, with the deep boom of mortars and around the Bay, like the distant sound of artillery. There were shouts and whoops and cheers and ambulance sirens and people clutching bottles wandering the streets uncaring of any vehicle that might be on the road. Clouds of smoke, the scent of gunpowder and swirling blue lights of police.
Nope, I don't live in the city, but in the country. Jervis Bay and the towns, um villages really, is a tourist mecca come holiday times but especially for the week between Christmas and New Year. The hot sun, the clear waters of the sea, the pristine, blindingly white sand... all attract city-folk to the area.
We are bursting at the seams with people!
Locals, however, either leave or stock up on supplies and stay home. We roll our eyes at the tourist antics - the lobster-red sunburns, the lack of car indicator use, the packs of teenagers wandering around searching for something to do, cyclists without helmets or shirts, drivers busy on the phone...
But in a week, most will have returned home, satisfied with the holiday by the sea and thankful they're back surrounded by the trappings of civilisation lacking in the country. How do I know this? A certain amount of tourists are less than circumspect in their public comments and conversations.
We locals will sigh with relief and await the influx of the more polite grey travellers; the retirees touring the country in caravans and motorhomes.
In the end, this time of the year is an enormous boost to the local economy. We're a beach community and those beaches are jammed with people enjoying the sea.
I know there are a lot of sharks out there, but we have have hourly air patrols, so our visitors should be safe; I'm staying out of the water and out of the way. I'm staying in to watch College Football.
Time to plan for new stuff - not resolutions, who sticks to them?
Anyway. Last night it was like a war zone here. Fireworks went off from all directions, like gunshots, with machine-gun intensity, with the deep boom of mortars and around the Bay, like the distant sound of artillery. There were shouts and whoops and cheers and ambulance sirens and people clutching bottles wandering the streets uncaring of any vehicle that might be on the road. Clouds of smoke, the scent of gunpowder and swirling blue lights of police.
Nope, I don't live in the city, but in the country. Jervis Bay and the towns, um villages really, is a tourist mecca come holiday times but especially for the week between Christmas and New Year. The hot sun, the clear waters of the sea, the pristine, blindingly white sand... all attract city-folk to the area.
We are bursting at the seams with people!
Locals, however, either leave or stock up on supplies and stay home. We roll our eyes at the tourist antics - the lobster-red sunburns, the lack of car indicator use, the packs of teenagers wandering around searching for something to do, cyclists without helmets or shirts, drivers busy on the phone...
But in a week, most will have returned home, satisfied with the holiday by the sea and thankful they're back surrounded by the trappings of civilisation lacking in the country. How do I know this? A certain amount of tourists are less than circumspect in their public comments and conversations.
We locals will sigh with relief and await the influx of the more polite grey travellers; the retirees touring the country in caravans and motorhomes.
In the end, this time of the year is an enormous boost to the local economy. We're a beach community and those beaches are jammed with people enjoying the sea.
I know there are a lot of sharks out there, but we have have hourly air patrols, so our visitors should be safe; I'm staying out of the water and out of the way. I'm staying in to watch College Football.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Posted
Yes, I've been busily beavering away and finally, finally have posted a short story on the Scribd page. And weirdly enough, I posted eighteen minutes ago and Bleak Town has had nine reads already. Maybe there's a glitch in the counting or something...
Anyway, it's there; a little late, like nearly a week, but with Christmas stuff and football and then cricket and having some 'quiet' time with the family in Canberra - hah! - taking the wrong thumb drive with me and oh, so many other excuses I could come up with, it didn't get done. Bad Jaye, no chocolate for you!
Now I can get on with editing a coupla novels for the end of January or February, I haven't decide which. Then, it's choosing a book to edit carefully for sending out; you know, to an agent. But that's for next week.
I'm going to listen to Lily Allen, a favourite prezzo I got - she's so ba-ad!
Anyway, it's there; a little late, like nearly a week, but with Christmas stuff and football and then cricket and having some 'quiet' time with the family in Canberra - hah! - taking the wrong thumb drive with me and oh, so many other excuses I could come up with, it didn't get done. Bad Jaye, no chocolate for you!
Now I can get on with editing a coupla novels for the end of January or February, I haven't decide which. Then, it's choosing a book to edit carefully for sending out; you know, to an agent. But that's for next week.
I'm going to listen to Lily Allen, a favourite prezzo I got - she's so ba-ad!
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Christmas excess
I hope everyone had an excellent Christmas. I did.
It bucketed with rain, on both Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Canberra needed the rain and it's been years since it is rained on the Big Day.
I have two new books to read: Dean Koontz's Reckless and Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Kicked a Hornet's Nest. I can read them while listening to Lily Allen.
I had planned to work on a short story to post for Christmas, but... as luck would have it, I took the wrong thumb drives - no stories on either, or on the laptop hard drive. So, it will have to wait for later this week.
This year, I drank too much and ate too much - to the extent that I felt like Geraldine Grainger in The Vicar of Dibley Christmas Special. If you don't know it, the vicar has to eat three full Christmas lunches, much to her regret - and mine.
Thankfully, it only happens once a year and it was great to have a Christmas away.
I'll hunt up the story I have in mind and post it. Now, it's time for a nap - way too much good cheer...
It bucketed with rain, on both Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Canberra needed the rain and it's been years since it is rained on the Big Day.
I have two new books to read: Dean Koontz's Reckless and Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Kicked a Hornet's Nest. I can read them while listening to Lily Allen.
I had planned to work on a short story to post for Christmas, but... as luck would have it, I took the wrong thumb drives - no stories on either, or on the laptop hard drive. So, it will have to wait for later this week.
This year, I drank too much and ate too much - to the extent that I felt like Geraldine Grainger in The Vicar of Dibley Christmas Special. If you don't know it, the vicar has to eat three full Christmas lunches, much to her regret - and mine.
Thankfully, it only happens once a year and it was great to have a Christmas away.
I'll hunt up the story I have in mind and post it. Now, it's time for a nap - way too much good cheer...
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas...
Here I am in heat-soaked Canberra for Christmas. We haven't been away from home for the season in a decade or more, peeps come to us - might have something to do with living next to the beach and the lovely onshore breeze to cool the day down.
Today, hopefully while most people are out doing their final mad dash for Christmas presents, seafood and Christmas cheer, I shall be watching 'Avatar'. In 3D. In the air conditioned theatre. A yes, a right wallowing.
So. Time to collect the niece and wander off to Borders and then the movies. WOOT!
I wish everyone a happy and safe Christmas tomorrow. And look, really, when it comes to the usual fights between rellos? How important is it? Life or death? Move on, let it go... Until Boxing Day, then hammer them!
Today, hopefully while most people are out doing their final mad dash for Christmas presents, seafood and Christmas cheer, I shall be watching 'Avatar'. In 3D. In the air conditioned theatre. A yes, a right wallowing.
So. Time to collect the niece and wander off to Borders and then the movies. WOOT!
I wish everyone a happy and safe Christmas tomorrow. And look, really, when it comes to the usual fights between rellos? How important is it? Life or death? Move on, let it go... Until Boxing Day, then hammer them!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Summer fare
There are certain times of the year when writing or editing are virtually impossible. When visitors come, big birthdays, Easter and... Christmas.
I have decided I cannot catch up on my reading pile, edit, do housework and everything associated with Christmas all at the same time; so I'm not going to try.
The tree is up, the prezzos bought, wrapped and the delivery near completed, hypocras made and distributed. I also whipped up a batch of Chocolate Crackles. For the first time. Like Vegemite, Australians grow up with Chocolate Crackles, they're an icon of home for those living and working overseas.
They're made with Rice Bubbles, cocoa (or melted chocolate), coconut and Copha. Only in Australia can you get Copha - it is made from hydrogenated coconut oil, 100% fat. Not so good.
It's used as the solidifying agent in Chocolate Crackles, but... I didn't have any and couldn't be bothered going up the street to get some. Surfing the 'net provided a solution: melted chocolate with butter with added caster sugar. It all worked so beautifully...
But next time, I think I'll use unsalted butter.
* * *
So Summer here brings out buzzing bush flies, whining mosquitoes, creaking cicadas and oblivious tourists sizzling under the sun. The flies, no problem. The cicadas, not much you can do about their noise. The tourists, well, nothing I can say will deter them from deep frying themselves. But... I've just encountered a near indestructible mosquito.
They make 'em tough these days. Twice I slapped that sucker between my hands and twice it looked at me as if to say, "Is that the best you can do?" And continued to dive bomb. I even smacked it when it landed. It snickered contemptuously and took off. I thought that, if nothing else, the shock wave of slapping a mozzy would kill the bugger. A hard hand and soft target usually does the trick - maybe I had around the other way.
It's dead now. Smeared on a rolled up newspaper. All twisted out of shape.
I expect the Mafia mozzies to call any time now for revenge: Probably Long-Nose Mo and Legs Malone.
I have decided I cannot catch up on my reading pile, edit, do housework and everything associated with Christmas all at the same time; so I'm not going to try.
The tree is up, the prezzos bought, wrapped and the delivery near completed, hypocras made and distributed. I also whipped up a batch of Chocolate Crackles. For the first time. Like Vegemite, Australians grow up with Chocolate Crackles, they're an icon of home for those living and working overseas.
They're made with Rice Bubbles, cocoa (or melted chocolate), coconut and Copha. Only in Australia can you get Copha - it is made from hydrogenated coconut oil, 100% fat. Not so good.
It's used as the solidifying agent in Chocolate Crackles, but... I didn't have any and couldn't be bothered going up the street to get some. Surfing the 'net provided a solution: melted chocolate with butter with added caster sugar. It all worked so beautifully...
But next time, I think I'll use unsalted butter.
* * *
So Summer here brings out buzzing bush flies, whining mosquitoes, creaking cicadas and oblivious tourists sizzling under the sun. The flies, no problem. The cicadas, not much you can do about their noise. The tourists, well, nothing I can say will deter them from deep frying themselves. But... I've just encountered a near indestructible mosquito.
They make 'em tough these days. Twice I slapped that sucker between my hands and twice it looked at me as if to say, "Is that the best you can do?" And continued to dive bomb. I even smacked it when it landed. It snickered contemptuously and took off. I thought that, if nothing else, the shock wave of slapping a mozzy would kill the bugger. A hard hand and soft target usually does the trick - maybe I had around the other way.
It's dead now. Smeared on a rolled up newspaper. All twisted out of shape.
I expect the Mafia mozzies to call any time now for revenge: Probably Long-Nose Mo and Legs Malone.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Cool Yule
I was going to write a post on what's happening - or not happening - over in Copenhagen... but I decided it makes me too angry to write a cohesive and reasoned blog.
So, instead, a friend sent me this:
Once again, I was disqualified from my neighborhoods "Best Decorated House" contest due to my bad attitude!
So, instead, a friend sent me this:
Once again, I was disqualified from my neighborhoods "Best Decorated House" contest due to my bad attitude!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Just a small problem
Ah, research.
Writers who plot do the research first, before putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard. Definitely an advantage.
Me, I do it after; I'm so easily distracted, it delays the actual writing process because there's so much interesting stuff out there. Sure, it can mean re-writes, but re-writes are a part of producing a book - it's a matter of degree.
So I discovered Brazil is much bigger than I thought. Or should I say, that getting around the countryside is much more difficult than I expected and there are more airports than I expected.
I'll have to be more creative in explaining stuff that I assumed was right from brief readings. For a while there - after the read through and thinking about Brazilian transport - I thought I'd have to virtually delete eighty percent of the novel. Fortunately, I slept on the problem and it's not as bad as I feared.
And what is this near overwhelming problem with transport? The choices of vehicle to get from a major city to a minor one up the Amazon river. By car and ferry, it can take a week or more. But flying? Meh. Nowhere near long enough for a relationship to develop.
More thought is needed...
Writers who plot do the research first, before putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard. Definitely an advantage.
Me, I do it after; I'm so easily distracted, it delays the actual writing process because there's so much interesting stuff out there. Sure, it can mean re-writes, but re-writes are a part of producing a book - it's a matter of degree.
So I discovered Brazil is much bigger than I thought. Or should I say, that getting around the countryside is much more difficult than I expected and there are more airports than I expected.
I'll have to be more creative in explaining stuff that I assumed was right from brief readings. For a while there - after the read through and thinking about Brazilian transport - I thought I'd have to virtually delete eighty percent of the novel. Fortunately, I slept on the problem and it's not as bad as I feared.
And what is this near overwhelming problem with transport? The choices of vehicle to get from a major city to a minor one up the Amazon river. By car and ferry, it can take a week or more. But flying? Meh. Nowhere near long enough for a relationship to develop.
More thought is needed...
Monday, December 14, 2009
Adding words
Added about two thousand words today. I'm looking at Spring's Reign as a 0th draft and I'm working to turn it into the first draft.
I'm making notations for more research, inserting skipped words - bummer, Hal, the word count could have been larger - and correcting the spelling as I go. Not so much the grammar; I've deliberately messed some of it up for personality and context, and no-one speaks perfectly these days (unless you're a Shakespearean actor, that is).
I have a plan to finish the 0th draft by the end of December and let it rest for a week or so, then get to the first and second drafts. Maybe even a third draft (which will really be a fourth).
And during the 'away' time, I'll be looking at Hunted and the 0th draft for that. I'm going to have to change things, take out a... particular aspect because it's too similar to something else I wrote.
Time to get back to it.
Oh, one last thing to mutter about. Two words: bloody Cowboys!
I'm making notations for more research, inserting skipped words - bummer, Hal, the word count could have been larger - and correcting the spelling as I go. Not so much the grammar; I've deliberately messed some of it up for personality and context, and no-one speaks perfectly these days (unless you're a Shakespearean actor, that is).
I have a plan to finish the 0th draft by the end of December and let it rest for a week or so, then get to the first and second drafts. Maybe even a third draft (which will really be a fourth).
And during the 'away' time, I'll be looking at Hunted and the 0th draft for that. I'm going to have to change things, take out a... particular aspect because it's too similar to something else I wrote.
Time to get back to it.
Oh, one last thing to mutter about. Two words: bloody Cowboys!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Who Dat?
Every year, we have the Santa Ride and every year, more Santas turn up. Over two hundred this time. Because of environmental concerns, the reindeer have to stay at home - can you imagine two thousand plus reindeer and their...er... emissions on the street?
Nope. Santas leave them at home but collect donations for worthy causes on their way to the local pub. There, the Santas can slake the thirst of a four kilometre ride and chat about Santary things. In particular, which Santa is going to which country to drop off the loot.
And you thought Santa lived at the north pole...
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The backyard
I'm back at the desk and keyboard, sorting out both computers and the external drive in anticipation of lots of editing.
Outside the sliding door is a juvenile Kookaburra, all fluffy feathers and curious gleam in its eyes. I think it's having problems though. It came flying in a picked up a skink. No worries there, but for the last ten minutes, the little lizard has been dropping between the kookaburra's beak, the bird's eyes firmly focused on it.
The kookaburra managed to choke it down, but is now standing up straight with it's beak wide swallowing hard. Makes me want to step out and say, "That's what you get for swallowing your food whole".
I like our native wildlife - well, it's not as if there's any other sort - but the kookaburras only turned up after I put in the veggie patch.
This all started a few years ago when a friend of mine gave me a Blue-Tongue lizard to look after, because her dog kept going for it. I set it free in the back yard. Sometime later, we noticed the slugs and snails were disappearing. Then I saw four blue tongues in the back yard and an abundance of skinks.
Following the efforts of the gardener we hired, I figured it was time for a veggie patch and duly planted it with my own brewed up compost. No snails, no slugs, and few bugs thanks to the blue-tongues and the skinks. Now, the kookaburras have arrived to keep the population of skinks down.
A nice ecosystem. The zucchinis are great, as are the snow peas. Lots of green tomatoes waiting to ripen under the summer sun and the apple cucumbers and butternut pumpkins have flowers.
And not a chemical to be seen anywhere. Ah, nature. Gotta love it.
Outside the sliding door is a juvenile Kookaburra, all fluffy feathers and curious gleam in its eyes. I think it's having problems though. It came flying in a picked up a skink. No worries there, but for the last ten minutes, the little lizard has been dropping between the kookaburra's beak, the bird's eyes firmly focused on it.
The kookaburra managed to choke it down, but is now standing up straight with it's beak wide swallowing hard. Makes me want to step out and say, "That's what you get for swallowing your food whole".
I like our native wildlife - well, it's not as if there's any other sort - but the kookaburras only turned up after I put in the veggie patch.
This all started a few years ago when a friend of mine gave me a Blue-Tongue lizard to look after, because her dog kept going for it. I set it free in the back yard. Sometime later, we noticed the slugs and snails were disappearing. Then I saw four blue tongues in the back yard and an abundance of skinks.
Following the efforts of the gardener we hired, I figured it was time for a veggie patch and duly planted it with my own brewed up compost. No snails, no slugs, and few bugs thanks to the blue-tongues and the skinks. Now, the kookaburras have arrived to keep the population of skinks down.
A nice ecosystem. The zucchinis are great, as are the snow peas. Lots of green tomatoes waiting to ripen under the summer sun and the apple cucumbers and butternut pumpkins have flowers.
And not a chemical to be seen anywhere. Ah, nature. Gotta love it.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
You want it... when?
I'm feeling more than a little beleaguered. It's as if the fates let me put everything on hold for November, and then dumped everything into December.
Housework, Christmas shopping, research for work, a meeting 280k away, car service, grocery shopping... the list goes on.
So far, I've managed to print out the first manuscript for editing but not had time to start the actual process.
Yeah, okay, I was stuffing around for the first week, reading books, catching up on movies and the weekend newspapers; you know, real life thingies.
But I'm hopefully for the weekend, I've just got to, well, wrap prezzos, do housework, do some research for the Museum, the NFL, college football...
Housework, Christmas shopping, research for work, a meeting 280k away, car service, grocery shopping... the list goes on.
So far, I've managed to print out the first manuscript for editing but not had time to start the actual process.
Yeah, okay, I was stuffing around for the first week, reading books, catching up on movies and the weekend newspapers; you know, real life thingies.
But I'm hopefully for the weekend, I've just got to, well, wrap prezzos, do housework, do some research for the Museum, the NFL, college football...
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Tis the season
Editing is underway... kind of.
I don't know whether you know this but... it's not long to Christmas. I've been running around searching for prezzos - big family - and I've made this year's batch of hypocras (spiced wine) in both white and red. Hypocras allegedly gets its name from Hippocrates and various versions have been around since. Romans drank it. It was King Henry VIII's favourite beverage, although he had gold leaf mixed into his. At the time, it was thought gold leaf helped digestion (and his main meal took two hours).
I love the stuff. Various grape types give hypocras a different flavour, so there's no standard taste.
Anyway. Today, I'm off to Canberra for a meeting tomorrow. I can indulge in some shopping in Da Big Smoke, too. I won't be back until Wednesday night and that means, first edits will have to wait for Thursday. True to form, lots of ideas are arriving to improve the book and I don't have time to put them in.
Now, I have to go pack...
I don't know whether you know this but... it's not long to Christmas. I've been running around searching for prezzos - big family - and I've made this year's batch of hypocras (spiced wine) in both white and red. Hypocras allegedly gets its name from Hippocrates and various versions have been around since. Romans drank it. It was King Henry VIII's favourite beverage, although he had gold leaf mixed into his. At the time, it was thought gold leaf helped digestion (and his main meal took two hours).
I love the stuff. Various grape types give hypocras a different flavour, so there's no standard taste.
Anyway. Today, I'm off to Canberra for a meeting tomorrow. I can indulge in some shopping in Da Big Smoke, too. I won't be back until Wednesday night and that means, first edits will have to wait for Thursday. True to form, lots of ideas are arriving to improve the book and I don't have time to put them in.
Now, I have to go pack...
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Rizzoli
I'm not a squealie fan girl, but I've followed Tess Gerritsen since her days at Harlequin writing romance.
Gerritsen isn't a romance writer. Not anymore. If you've read The Surgeon and the books that follow, you'll know it's all about murder; gruesome, wicked murder. I love all the books, probably because happy endings aren't necessarily guaranteed. And the intricacies of the medical side of it (Gerritsen's a doctor) which reads much better than Cornwell's Scarpetta.
Now, the Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles series is about to make it to the TV screen. Wheee! The pilot Rizzoli is being made by TNT.
Angie Harmon (Women's Murder Club, Law & Order)is Jane Rizzoli;
Sasha Alexander (NCIS) is Maura Isles;
Bruce McGill (Wolf Lake) is Vincent Korsak;
Lorraine Bracco (The Sopranos) is Rizzoli's mother, Angela; and
Billy Burke (Twilight, 24, Wonderland) is Gabriel Dean.
The cast sounds great and I hope they do justice to the books. Fingers crossed.
Gerritsen isn't a romance writer. Not anymore. If you've read The Surgeon and the books that follow, you'll know it's all about murder; gruesome, wicked murder. I love all the books, probably because happy endings aren't necessarily guaranteed. And the intricacies of the medical side of it (Gerritsen's a doctor) which reads much better than Cornwell's Scarpetta.
Now, the Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles series is about to make it to the TV screen. Wheee! The pilot Rizzoli is being made by TNT.
Angie Harmon (Women's Murder Club, Law & Order)is Jane Rizzoli;
Sasha Alexander (NCIS) is Maura Isles;
Bruce McGill (Wolf Lake) is Vincent Korsak;
Lorraine Bracco (The Sopranos) is Rizzoli's mother, Angela; and
Billy Burke (Twilight, 24, Wonderland) is Gabriel Dean.
The cast sounds great and I hope they do justice to the books. Fingers crossed.
Friday, December 04, 2009
More WriMos?
So... you haven't had enough of abusing the keyboard? Suffering from NaNoWriMo hangover? Don't want to let go yet? Do you want more?
Here it is:
National Novel Finishing Month - your goal is to finish the novel, write the extra 30,000 words during December.
And coming up:
National Novel Editing Month - March 2010. Your goal is to commit to 50 hours of editing.
The Southern Cross Novel Challenge - June 2010. A NaNoWriMo for the southern hemisphere. Fifty thousand words goal.
Write a Damn Novel in June - A NaNoWriMo for the middle of the year. Write a novel.
July Novel Writing Month - A NaNoWriMo for July. Fifty thousand words goal.
August Novel Writing Month - A NaNoWriMo for August. Write a novel.
September Novel Writing Month Set a word-count goal and edit, write, or edit and write throughout the month of September
Want something with more intensity? Try the Book in a Week challenge. Yep, write your book in seven days. Begins on the Monday of the first full week of each month, lasts one week.
Phew. It looks like Nano has taken off in a big way. Me, I'll think about June, but nothing else. Writing six books a year would take the shine off, and the editing would be brutal.
Then again... the challenges, people, the challenges!
Here it is:
National Novel Finishing Month - your goal is to finish the novel, write the extra 30,000 words during December.
And coming up:
National Novel Editing Month - March 2010. Your goal is to commit to 50 hours of editing.
The Southern Cross Novel Challenge - June 2010. A NaNoWriMo for the southern hemisphere. Fifty thousand words goal.
Write a Damn Novel in June - A NaNoWriMo for the middle of the year. Write a novel.
July Novel Writing Month - A NaNoWriMo for July. Fifty thousand words goal.
August Novel Writing Month - A NaNoWriMo for August. Write a novel.
September Novel Writing Month Set a word-count goal and edit, write, or edit and write throughout the month of September
Want something with more intensity? Try the Book in a Week challenge. Yep, write your book in seven days. Begins on the Monday of the first full week of each month, lasts one week.
Phew. It looks like Nano has taken off in a big way. Me, I'll think about June, but nothing else. Writing six books a year would take the shine off, and the editing would be brutal.
Then again... the challenges, people, the challenges!
Monday, November 30, 2009
The End
After what's turned out to be a brutal month's writing, it's mostly done. Mostly??
Yeah. First drafts are done and starting tomorrow, I'm taking some time off. Then the edits start. First up will be Spring's Reign, the fourth in the Seasons of Change series, and Hunted, sequel to Huntress, currently on Scribd as freebies.
After that, the third Huntress, which I'm having problems with an appropriate title.
Rider... needs a lot of work; a lot of work if it's to see the light of day.
All I can say, it TGIO and I'll never do this to myself evah again.
And now, to sleep; perchance to dream...
Yeah. First drafts are done and starting tomorrow, I'm taking some time off. Then the edits start. First up will be Spring's Reign, the fourth in the Seasons of Change series, and Hunted, sequel to Huntress, currently on Scribd as freebies.
After that, the third Huntress, which I'm having problems with an appropriate title.
Rider... needs a lot of work; a lot of work if it's to see the light of day.
All I can say, it TGIO and I'll never do this to myself evah again.
And now, to sleep; perchance to dream...
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tag and bag
In honour of all those who laboured through the month, I thought I'd put a few of the tag lines used for inspiration:
Editing your manuscript is the revenge your characters get on you for thinking you’re running their lives.
“This is going to be the worst day of your life. I'm bringing nunchuks." H. Freeman
“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent." - Qui-Gon Jinn, the Phantom Menace
"To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it." - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
“Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than to curse the darkness..."
When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand. - Raymond Chandler
"...it is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you're attempting can't be done." - Terry Pratchett
You fail only if you stop writing - Ray Bradbury
Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow
A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one. ~Baltasar Gracián
My mind is a library of useless information and imaginings, except in the month of November.
And my favourite:
One wordcount to rule them all
One website to find them
One month to bring them all
And in NaNoWriMo bind them
-- SynapticJam
Genius. Sheer genius!
So, for all those who have tagged and bagged words this months, the accolades belong to you. Well, done... writers.
Editing your manuscript is the revenge your characters get on you for thinking you’re running their lives.
“This is going to be the worst day of your life. I'm bringing nunchuks." H. Freeman
“The ability to speak does not make you intelligent." - Qui-Gon Jinn, the Phantom Menace
"To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it." - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
“Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than to curse the darkness..."
When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand. - Raymond Chandler
"...it is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you're attempting can't be done." - Terry Pratchett
You fail only if you stop writing - Ray Bradbury
Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow
A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one. ~Baltasar Gracián
My mind is a library of useless information and imaginings, except in the month of November.
And my favourite:
One wordcount to rule them all
One website to find them
One month to bring them all
And in NaNoWriMo bind them
-- SynapticJam
Genius. Sheer genius!
So, for all those who have tagged and bagged words this months, the accolades belong to you. Well, done... writers.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Two Days left
So I'm putting in the long ones for the weekend - the last weekend of Nano.
I know some parts of this last work are trash and will be tossed, but I think the basis is sound. I think I'm going to do some shuddering when I get around to reading and editing it.
Two days to go. Two whole days of writing and I'm done.
Next year, I'm going back to writing a trilogy in the same genre. This massive word count takes too much out of me and the writing suffers as a result - and that means extra work come editing time.
Come Tuesday, I'm sleeping in.
I know some parts of this last work are trash and will be tossed, but I think the basis is sound. I think I'm going to do some shuddering when I get around to reading and editing it.
Two days to go. Two whole days of writing and I'm done.
Next year, I'm going back to writing a trilogy in the same genre. This massive word count takes too much out of me and the writing suffers as a result - and that means extra work come editing time.
Come Tuesday, I'm sleeping in.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Problem
I don't know how I do it, but I've managed to back my characters into a corner. I have to decided which one to sacrifice, if I can't think of something brilliant to get them all out.
I've done this before... ah, well, actually the character did exactly what his personality required of him, with less than perfect results. But I left the scene in because, damn it, it fit.
Three days left. Three days and I can play with my new toy - the 1TB external hard drive. And catch up on my TBR pile; and the DVDs I've missed. Oh, boy.
But first, I have to solve this conundrum.
I've done this before... ah, well, actually the character did exactly what his personality required of him, with less than perfect results. But I left the scene in because, damn it, it fit.
Three days left. Three days and I can play with my new toy - the 1TB external hard drive. And catch up on my TBR pile; and the DVDs I've missed. Oh, boy.
But first, I have to solve this conundrum.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Nanolyser
So I've been up bright and early, slogging through this book, tossing in a few action scenes here and there. As expected, the writing picked up - I mean, it's not as if I've been sleeping, with plots and dialogue and characters.
I still don't think it's worth much, but it is something to edit... eventually.
An interesting and useful procrastination item, or post analysis is the Nanolyser which gives a breakdown of your Nano work, including history, a bar graph with where you're meant to be in your word count, versus actual word count and a pie chart showing which days you're most productive.
You'll need your Nano id number, but I think it's an excellent and useful bit of information.
If I'm lucky, I should finish this book by Saturday - if, of course, I don't have a scathingly brilliant idea that makes it longer.
I still don't think it's worth much, but it is something to edit... eventually.
An interesting and useful procrastination item, or post analysis is the Nanolyser which gives a breakdown of your Nano work, including history, a bar graph with where you're meant to be in your word count, versus actual word count and a pie chart showing which days you're most productive.
You'll need your Nano id number, but I think it's an excellent and useful bit of information.
If I'm lucky, I should finish this book by Saturday - if, of course, I don't have a scathingly brilliant idea that makes it longer.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Struggling
The last book isn't going well. Nope, not at all. Yesterday's effort, while I hit the goal, was full of craptacular nonsense. Really bad. Conversations that went nowhere, not a bit of action, full of 'looks' and 'said' and aarggghhh! cardboard characters who said exactly what a cardboard, stereotypical character would say.
Not even introducing a new character worked. Although the garden provided a nice word count boost.
I know why this is such a bag of sloppy shite.
When I started Nano, I thought three books, three different genres. As challenges go, not bad. It's hard, I discovered, to shift genres without a break, but I think it worked. Once was enough, so rather than going with the book I thought of, I went with a sequel and powered through that one, with some... angsty written somewhere in the middle that will be cut.
But I did the three books as promised and found I had a week left. Since I set this month aside for writing, it seems too good an opportunity to waste.
My subconscious and imagination has played fair, working feverishly to get everything done - they did not expect to be thrown another one. And they're protesting. Nothing works to shift them. Exercise, mucking about in the veggie patch (O.o got zucchinis and snow peas!), just sitting and staring into space. I think my creative well is almost dry and now I have to wrestle with book or not finish it and declare myself done.
Okay, it's not entirely a bag of sloppy shite - there are some nice firm nuggets in there as well.
Maybe a good kidnapping and torture of a character and a heroic rescue are in order.
Not even introducing a new character worked. Although the garden provided a nice word count boost.
I know why this is such a bag of sloppy shite.
When I started Nano, I thought three books, three different genres. As challenges go, not bad. It's hard, I discovered, to shift genres without a break, but I think it worked. Once was enough, so rather than going with the book I thought of, I went with a sequel and powered through that one, with some... angsty written somewhere in the middle that will be cut.
But I did the three books as promised and found I had a week left. Since I set this month aside for writing, it seems too good an opportunity to waste.
My subconscious and imagination has played fair, working feverishly to get everything done - they did not expect to be thrown another one. And they're protesting. Nothing works to shift them. Exercise, mucking about in the veggie patch (O.o got zucchinis and snow peas!), just sitting and staring into space. I think my creative well is almost dry and now I have to wrestle with book or not finish it and declare myself done.
Okay, it's not entirely a bag of sloppy shite - there are some nice firm nuggets in there as well.
Maybe a good kidnapping and torture of a character and a heroic rescue are in order.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Ongoing...
Not surprisingly, I'm suffering from a bit of eye strain. I'm probably spending a little too much time in front of the computer.
There's a little under a week to go and today, I passed my word count for last year. Joy.
The fourth book is becoming a right bugger to write. I think my brain has had enough and it - the book that is - has parallels with one I read years ago. A similar premise, but with different occupations, perspectives and, I think, ending. Yeah, I know how this one ends, it's getting there that's proving difficult.
I think I'll go and rest my eyes for eight hours or so.
There's a little under a week to go and today, I passed my word count for last year. Joy.
The fourth book is becoming a right bugger to write. I think my brain has had enough and it - the book that is - has parallels with one I read years ago. A similar premise, but with different occupations, perspectives and, I think, ending. Yeah, I know how this one ends, it's getting there that's proving difficult.
I think I'll go and rest my eyes for eight hours or so.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Tempters
I'm looking at my rewards for finishing Nano. I'm done with the 50k, but it's a month of writing for me. But there's the TBR pile, singing like a siren.
I've done enough, just... open the first page of Holly Lisle's Talyn. Limit yourself to the first chapter of J.D. Robb's Kindred in Death. A short story in David Weber's Worlds of Weber won't take long. Matthew Reilly's Hell Island is only 120 pages. You know, Vicki Pettersson's The Touch of Twilight looks good, and it's the third in the series, just give yourself a taste...
Then there's the one tera-byte external hard drive, sitting in it's box, sitting there, waiting, like an early Christmas present... you know you need to backup the laptop and desktop computers, be a shame to lose all your hard work.
And the DVDs... come on, the first book you wrote was set in Brazil and you've got that new Discovery Channel program on just that area. Look at it as research...
All good reasons to stop. Right now. Exit Word and Excel, disconnect from the 'net and shut down the computer. Lie on the couch and just... relax.
It's a struggle, writing ever single day for thirty days, and even at this stage, there's plenty of time for people to finish the 50k.
But I won't be stopping, not yet, because I want to see how this book ends; today, I'll finish the third book and get on with the one I left dangling because I could not change genres at that time.
Sigh why do we do this Nano thing again?
I've done enough, just... open the first page of Holly Lisle's Talyn. Limit yourself to the first chapter of J.D. Robb's Kindred in Death. A short story in David Weber's Worlds of Weber won't take long. Matthew Reilly's Hell Island is only 120 pages. You know, Vicki Pettersson's The Touch of Twilight looks good, and it's the third in the series, just give yourself a taste...
Then there's the one tera-byte external hard drive, sitting in it's box, sitting there, waiting, like an early Christmas present... you know you need to backup the laptop and desktop computers, be a shame to lose all your hard work.
And the DVDs... come on, the first book you wrote was set in Brazil and you've got that new Discovery Channel program on just that area. Look at it as research...
All good reasons to stop. Right now. Exit Word and Excel, disconnect from the 'net and shut down the computer. Lie on the couch and just... relax.
It's a struggle, writing ever single day for thirty days, and even at this stage, there's plenty of time for people to finish the 50k.
But I won't be stopping, not yet, because I want to see how this book ends; today, I'll finish the third book and get on with the one I left dangling because I could not change genres at that time.
Sigh why do we do this Nano thing again?
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Confrontation
So the big-ass spider is still there this morning.
I know it's smug, I can see the damned smile from across the room. It is dripping in smug.
Yeah, come on, human, just you try coming near me.
"But... I need to go outside."
Not caring. This wall is MINE. Go find your own, and let me remind you: I have eight legs; I can run faster than you. And I jump. Can you?
"Whoa! Don't run at me! Jeez! Look, I just want to go out and check the veggie patch from last night's storm, check the weather station. Why don't you go hide behind the picture frame, hmm? I'll just nip out, make sure the zucchinis are okay and..."
What? Sneak up behind me with a rolled up newspaper? Spray me with stuff that won't kill me, but will piss me off? I don't think so.
"I could always go out the front door and around the side of the house. That way, I won't bother you, and you won't be bothered by me."
Why don't you do that. Oh, and say hello to one of my brothers. He's sitting on the bonnet of your car...
I know it's smug, I can see the damned smile from across the room. It is dripping in smug.
Yeah, come on, human, just you try coming near me.
"But... I need to go outside."
Not caring. This wall is MINE. Go find your own, and let me remind you: I have eight legs; I can run faster than you. And I jump. Can you?
"Whoa! Don't run at me! Jeez! Look, I just want to go out and check the veggie patch from last night's storm, check the weather station. Why don't you go hide behind the picture frame, hmm? I'll just nip out, make sure the zucchinis are okay and..."
What? Sneak up behind me with a rolled up newspaper? Spray me with stuff that won't kill me, but will piss me off? I don't think so.
"I could always go out the front door and around the side of the house. That way, I won't bother you, and you won't be bothered by me."
Why don't you do that. Oh, and say hello to one of my brothers. He's sitting on the bonnet of your car...
Friday, November 20, 2009
Spidey!!!
The heat is nasty. Add the humidity of the sea and woe.
Smug I was informing a sister of the onshore breeze that kept the temperature down - until sunset that is, and the breeze went away.
Today will be hotter, much hotter and this morning, ain't much of a breeze.
Writing will be nervous: there's a bloody great Huntsman on the wall behind me. How big and how worrisome is a Huntsman?
These are not small spideys. Think of a drinks' coaster, yeah, that's about right. Just to make me happy, I know they run and they jump. They are, to no-one's surprise, hunters, who go after smaller spiders and beetles and other insects.
Good things to have around during Summer, but they make me shudder. I so wish I had eyes in the back of my head... you know, just in case it... Nope, did not need that image.
Smug I was informing a sister of the onshore breeze that kept the temperature down - until sunset that is, and the breeze went away.
Today will be hotter, much hotter and this morning, ain't much of a breeze.
Writing will be nervous: there's a bloody great Huntsman on the wall behind me. How big and how worrisome is a Huntsman?
These are not small spideys. Think of a drinks' coaster, yeah, that's about right. Just to make me happy, I know they run and they jump. They are, to no-one's surprise, hunters, who go after smaller spiders and beetles and other insects.
Good things to have around during Summer, but they make me shudder. I so wish I had eyes in the back of my head... you know, just in case it... Nope, did not need that image.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
An orange sneeze
I had to take a bit of a break this morning. The white jasmine is blooming in the neighbour's yard. Not much, but enough to make me sneeze.
Why the break? Promise you won't laugh? Really? Okay. I was, um, chewing on carrot and tried not sneeze with a mouthful. Weren't pretty, I can tell you that much, and I shan't go into the gruesome details, either. I'll leave it to your imagination.
So. Lesson learned: do not try to stop a sneeze with carrots in your gob.
Starting the second part of the third book tomorrow and it's all still flowing nicely.
Why the break? Promise you won't laugh? Really? Okay. I was, um, chewing on carrot and tried not sneeze with a mouthful. Weren't pretty, I can tell you that much, and I shan't go into the gruesome details, either. I'll leave it to your imagination.
So. Lesson learned: do not try to stop a sneeze with carrots in your gob.
Starting the second part of the third book tomorrow and it's all still flowing nicely.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Once more into the breach...
That was a good day's writing. Sure, it was twelve hours long, but hey, I got a significant amount done and the shoulders only ache a little bit!
Okay, a lot, but it was fun!
And not even the fender-bender a couple of doors down couldn't distract me... for long.
Now that I've cleared up a number of loose ends, the real work begins. But tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow.
Okay, a lot, but it was fun!
And not even the fender-bender a couple of doors down couldn't distract me... for long.
Now that I've cleared up a number of loose ends, the real work begins. But tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
From End to Beginning
Well... that was interesting! An ending I didn't see and a rather large body count I didn't predict. Ah, well, that's what the characters signed up for!
Hunted is done and I've started a third, this one set in Australia, where the future slams into the present with unexpected consequences for one unfortunate Aussie bloke in the Outback.
I've done enough damage, I think, for one day; hopefully, no bodies on the ground tomorrow.
Hunted is done and I've started a third, this one set in Australia, where the future slams into the present with unexpected consequences for one unfortunate Aussie bloke in the Outback.
I've done enough damage, I think, for one day; hopefully, no bodies on the ground tomorrow.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Nearing the end of book two
I've had to readjust the total for the book, Hunted. There's a lot happening, but the first draft will not make the 100k mark.
When writing during Nano, I can only make a guesstimate of what the final total will be. The first book, Huntress was result of the first Nano I ever did, and came in at 117k because I wanted to write every day. My assumption being, the second book should be as large.
Well... it ain't gonna be that large. I'm happily writing toward solving the last mission which might take another 20k - or not; that's the thing about Nano and free writing. You never know where a books going to end.
When writing during Nano, I can only make a guesstimate of what the final total will be. The first book, Huntress was result of the first Nano I ever did, and came in at 117k because I wanted to write every day. My assumption being, the second book should be as large.
Well... it ain't gonna be that large. I'm happily writing toward solving the last mission which might take another 20k - or not; that's the thing about Nano and free writing. You never know where a books going to end.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Oops...
Man, I'm tellin' ya, eyeballs are starting to hang here.
And I think I did a very bad thing to my protagonist and I'm not even halfway with this book.
Well, I guess it's the old 'and then...?' question to get them out it and save the world - if they can.
I'll give them until the morning to think about it.
And I think I did a very bad thing to my protagonist and I'm not even halfway with this book.
Well, I guess it's the old 'and then...?' question to get them out it and save the world - if they can.
I'll give them until the morning to think about it.
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