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.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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.
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