A Little Patch in Sun

I've been feeling a little stressed lately, for numerous reasons. Today, I decided to take a break.

Although it's winter here, the sun has shone down in all its fiery glory. I finally gave in to temptation and grabbed a book - Magic Slays by Ilona Andrews - and sat out on the balcony in the sun.

Time passed all too quickly. Magic Slays is an outstanding book that kept my attention throughout the afternoon. It's full of action, snarking between Kate Daniels and mate, Curran the Beast Lord as they come to grips with their relationship, and Kate's fear of discovery. I'm not doing a review, but I will say that the ending has opened a lot of possibilities for the next book - and one scary possibility that could have dire consequences. I certainly want to see how Andrews' handles the aftermath of the ending.

I have no idea when the next book will be out, but I'll be waiting. Time to treat the mild case of sunburn... damn it...

Nekkid lawn

So, the gardener snuck in yesterday and set his apprentice to giving the lawn a buzz cut.

It's winter here, so the lawn hasn't grown much, but the aforementioned apprentice duly set forth to tame the wild inch-high grass - and carved a swathe through the pumpkins. By the time I actually lifted my head from the keyboard to look out, the area was nearly nekkid!

One lonely pumpkin remains, partially hidden by the compost bin. Worse, somewhere around the back of the garage - too many spiders for me to look - lives a family of bandicoots. Bandicoots love tasty roots, so the naked area now has cone-like divots and small piles of near-black dirt.

I imagine the small creatures are out there, right now, happily rooting around the lawn creating golf-cup sized holes everywhere now that their path is clear.

I shall do nothing to stop them - I suspect they're going after the snails and slugs while the Blue-tongued lizards sleep the winter away. (That, or the lizards are gone.)

Now I have an area to plant - if I can keep the bandicoots away. But what vegetable do you plant in Winter?

Working on the next three

Now that I've got some of those history pieces out of the way, I can continue to work on the next Huntress novels.

They're already put together from last November, so I can see how many words to delete or add.

Huntress: Alone has had a single read-through with notes attached for reviews; Huntress: Besieged is undergoing the first read-through and I've yet to get to Huntress: Innocence.

I plan to post all three by November, starting with H:A in late July, early August.

The books are about the titles - or is that me being too cute? Blurbs when I think of what to write.

Refuge

Birthday week is over - and I enjoyed every minute of it; we (sisters, niece and nephew) should get together more often. (Maybe not the over-indulgence of alcohol, but I can now say I have tasted Moet and found it... hmmm.)

So I returned to the keyboard and work. Curious that over the past couple of months I've felt like I've been in a fugue state when it came to writing and editing. I don't know why, exactly - maybe it has something to do with the parent's illness and other concerns.

Today, at work, I was busily writing and researching a historical piece for museum. The time whizzed by, but I finally managed to finish - and wanted to start the next project. I have an ever-increasing list, of which most include tales of daring-do.

History is my refuge. Always has been, but until recently, I didn't realise how much. I've never found it stuffy or boring - that's in the way the author writes, or the teacher teaches. It's not just about dates - or it shouldn't be - but it's about the people and their affect on society, real and perceived.

Here I sit, in a small coastal town in Australia, yet where I live is directly connected to two of Britain's greatest naval heroes, Sir John Jervis and a young Captain under his command - none other than Horatio Nelson. Another connection is the Lady Denman ferry. It was built here, just up the road, and named after the wife of a Governor General, but more, Lady Gertrude Denman was instrumental in developing bush nursing in Australia, the Women's Institutes in England and the Land Armies of World Wars One and Two.

Of the three, Nelson is the most famous, but his career was guided and shaped by Jervis. Lady Denman is near forgotten, but she was instrumental in advancing women's rights on a global scale.

Much has been written about Nelson, but precious little on Jervis and Denman. In their time, they were dynamic, influential and hardworking. Jervis, for example, was recalled to command the Channel Fleet at age 70. He saw it as his duty, poor health or not.

I'm hoping to redress their vagueness in current history - at least in a small way - and use their virtues in my own writing; I think I already do, given my life-long love of history.

The past holds a wealth of inspiration from those famous and not-so-famous. To step back in time, is to step into the future, for heroes and villains abound. Every one a gem to a writer.

Family time

Yeah, not much happening around here; I've been focusing on family. Denmark family visiting and an 18th birthday family event this weekend. There's also two sister's birthdays, another niece and a nephew. (Neph and one sis done today.) And the ongoing parent health focus. Fortunately, the parent is now having more good days than bad.

Oh, and other work/edit stuff. Not so much. It's winter, and that means hibernating in front of the computer. (When I'm not having near anxiety attacks over how much rain has fallen. The backyard is so soaked, the grass moves underfoot! I swear, the next house I live in will have a proper drainage system.)

So, off to Canberra tomorrow for party time and visiting more family. And shopping. Mustn't forget the shopping.

29 ways to creativity

PBW has a list of 29 ways to stay creative:

1. Make lists.
2. Carry a notebook everywhere.
3. Try free writing.
4. Get away from the computer.
5. Quit beating yourself up.
6. Take breaks.
7. Sing in the shower.
8. Drink coffee.
9. Listen to new music.
10. Be open.
11. Surround yourself with creative people.
12. Get feedback.
13. Collaborate.
14. Don't give up.
15. Practice, practice, practice.
16. Allow yourself to make mistakes.
17. Go somewhere new.
18. Count your blessings.
19. Get lots of rest.
20. Take risks.
21. Break the rules.
22. Don't force it.
23. Read a page of the dictionary.
24. Create a framework.
25. Stop trying to be someone else's perfect.
26. Got an idea? Write it down.
27. Clean your workspace.
28. Have fun.
29. Finish something.

(Shamelessly copied text): If you're looking for something to blog about, copy the video and the list, bold the items on the list that you're already doing, cross off the ones that don't work for you, and star the ones you'd like to try.

Here's my meme version of the list:

1. Make lists.
2. Carry a notebook everywhere.
3. Try free writing.
4. Get away from the computer.
5. Quit beating yourself up.*
6. Take breaks.
7. Sing in the shower.
8. Drink coffee.
9. Listen to new music.
10. Be open.
11. Surround yourself with creative people.
12. Get feedback.
13. Collaborate.
14. Don't give up.
15. Practice, practice, practice.
16. Allow yourself to make mistakes.
17. Go somewhere new.*
18. Count your blessings.*
19. Get lots of rest.
20. Take risks.*
21. Break the rules.*
22. Don't force it.
23. Read a page of the dictionary.
24. Create a framework.
25. Stop trying to be someone else's perfect.
26. Got an idea? Write it down.
27. Clean your workspace.*
28. Have fun.
29. Finish something.
.
Go on, do your own list. I guess I have some things to change

Damn You, Autocorrect!!

I actually have autocorrect on when I'm writing; now, I'm going to reconsider.

It's all the fault of DYAC. It is a site I found via the Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. If you want a laugh, and I mean a serious crack up, DYAC is the place for you.

And I warn you, do not read this at work - people will stare. But worse, anyone who has autocorrect on their phones will immediately recognise some of the hilarious text conversations.

I have to say that trying to remember my bookmarks has been an opportunity to dump some sites and find others. DYAC is one I'll visit frequently, just for laughs.

Fed Up

...with the freezing of Google Chrome. I don't know why it kept doing it, but I finally dumped it for Firefox. I did try a number of fixes, including at least two virus hunts - all failed after I did routine maintenance and started up the search engine again.

The only problem was the loss of all my bookmarks [insert much cursing] and I have to remember them and re-bookmark; I'm sure I shall fail.

Now, I shall get back to the remembering.

Upgrade

I've upgraded my wireless broadband, and received a Pendo Pad as a bonus. It is evil. EVIL, I tell you.

While playing around with it, I downloaded a couple of games - and then... it was hours later. The old "I'll just finish this level..." gambit. I am now addicted to the 'jewels' game; all those shinies and explosions, and whirling jewels. O_o

I need to focus on writing. So...

Woman's Arse Size study...There is a new study about women and how they feel about their arses...The results were pretty interesting.
30% of women think their arse is too fat. 10% of women think their arse is too skinny. The remaining 60% say they don't care, they love him, he's a good man and wouldn't trade him for the world...

And now, back to writing the last story for the marathon. Phew.

A Three Hour Tour...

I've had a busy few days.

The moozeum has an exhibition opening on Friday and one of the co-ordinators damaged an ankle and hasn't been able to do much; so, for some insane reason, I volunteered to help out. Sheesh.

Anyway, I was invited to a photo shoot bright and early on Saturday morning:

Hmm. Up before sunrise for a morning out on Jervis Bay. The photo shoot was for a local dolphin and whale watching company. A group of us boarded a fast tourist boat to scoot around in. This boat has the photographers aboard.

It's been years since I was out on the Bay and it was a beautiful day to re-acquaint myself - I've also never been beyond the Point. Fishing inside the Bay seemed a much safer option in a little runabout.

So off we went, across the Bay and out past Point Perpendicular - a name that speaks for itself and continues the Australian tradition of stating the bleedin' obvious:

Once you get to the Point, you can see the rugged coastline. Shelves of slowly eroding sandstone all the way with large chunks of rock littering the sea floor and towering cliffs. Abseilers love climbing up and down because of drop and the many handholds. Curiously, I didn't see any seabirds nesting in cliff face.

Of course, that might be because the Navy uses a part of the penisular for target practice.

And... since this was a dolphin and whale watch tour, and... since it is the start of the whale watching season, here's a whale:

A humpback whale, in fact, travelling north to the Great Barrier Reef for some R&R. They sometimes get a little confused and end up in the Bay, rather than continuing up the coast. But it's nice, safe harbour for the smaller whales. This one is moving in a circle - either to get away from the boat, or to come around and give us another look; I vote for the second. Overall, we saw five of them and a playful pod of common dolphins. The dolphins were too quick for the camera, unfortunately.

I don't think I've ever had three hours pass so quickly. And if I get another invite, I'm there!

Of cake and wine

Fortunately, I wrote my story this morning - thank you, Marina, for the inspiration.

A friend of my mother's, Ld, called up last week and said the third of the triumvirate, Lr, was heading this way for a Garden Club Reunion.

Now, all three have been friends since, ah, the late 1950s, so it's a long time friendship. Due to retirements, each moved hundreds of kilometres away.

Ld said to expect them on Monday. I made cack... sorry, cake; chocolate, in fact. ("Lr doesn't dobought cake," my mother said.) And so, we waited. No sign of them - and no, Lr isn't the kind of person to ring and say they'll arrive on such-and-such day at such-and-such time. I also arranged for a wine salesman to come on Wednesday, figuring 'if not today, the friend will turn up tomorrow.'

Tuesday, and we finished off the cake, made another. And so, we waited. No sign of them - and no, we didn't know where they were staying, nor their phone number.

Today. I made a nice butter cake, with cream and chocolate frosting - urg, licking the bowls gave me a monumental sugar rush. And we waited - my mother happily watching the television, me, curtain twitching. Two o'clock came and went, then three. I asked the parent whether she'd like to come into the other room to wait. I kept watch on the door while printing out some old photos for her, and we chatted. Finally, four o'clock arrived. My mother gave up and went back to her room, since the wine man was due at 4.30.

And lo, the weary travellers did turn up - at a quarter to five, while I'm sipping a rather bland French white.

The wine man wasn't sure whether to arrange another day, or stay and listen to the reminiscing. I urged him to stay and he settled back, occasionally pouring from a new bottle, that we briefly discussed while the other conversation continued. Lr's husband chimed in with comments every now and then about the wines he wasn't tasting.

Lr and husband declined coffee and cake, and stayed barely an hour. They left with promises of long letters. The wine man stayed another fifteen minutes or so, since he had another appointment.

I bought some rather nice Aussie wines, the story is written and all is right with world after my time with various wines - and there's still cake.

Name lag

I'm halfway through the marathon, and I've finally resorted to the baby name book.

Seventeen stories so far, with an estimated 51 characters, and just over 40,000 words. Why, if this was NaNo, I'd be well on my way! But, I digress. The stories have no fewer than three characters in them each, and that is a lot of names to come up with.

Sure, I could jumble up the letters of simple names to come up with fanciful ones, but, like any marathon, the middle is where you drag and you wonder why you bothered. In fact, I think I've used a couple of names twice, but I'm not re-reading to find out - that will come later.

So. Fourteen more stories to go and I'm hoping for some easier prompts. I think I need to watch some sci-fi, or read a fantasy book to get the creative juices flowing a little better. Some stories just arrive, waiting to be told; others hang on to obscurity until you pry them loose.

I want the former, but it feels more like the latter. Ah, well, tomorrow is a new day, just waiting to be explored.

Stop, go

Well, that little experiment failed utterly.

I figured I'd reduce my time on the internet and limit my book readin' in an effort to boost my concentration on writing and editing and creative stuff.

What I found was that staying off the 'net gave me more time to write, but reducing my novel reading also reduced my creativity. Worse, I began to have editing issues, wondering whether something was right, when I knew it was.

I have found that, if I watch a movie, the imagination sparks; if I watch the news or documentaries, or sport, empty-headed blandness is the result.

All I need do is read what I've written for the story-a-day marathon to see the best stories have been written after watching something fun.

I have felt vaguely lost and out of sorts, as if something was missing. Now, I know what it was: the imagination of others.

So, while I'm writing these stories, I'm also working on my historical piece for the museum, a book I promised a beta reader some time ago, and, in my spare time, I'm going to find something to post - it's been too long and I need the adulation of my fan... If I still have one.

Spoons and garlic

Writing a short story every day does have it's interesting moments; starting with the prompt.

It takes a while for the issues - theme, character, where, when and an important item - to jell into a cohesive idea for the beginning of a story, but there is always something I bumped up against later on.

For me, this is about free writing from the prompts, but I have to wonder where some of these ideas come from.

I thought today's story fine at the time, marinating my heroine in a vat of crushed garlic to escape the villains. But then an important question arose: how do you get rid of the garlic smell?

And off I went to research appropriate methods. Ah, the wonders of the internet.

Colour me surprised by the answers. A stainless-steel spoon rubbed on the garlicky area? Wow, I'll have to try that one, but not appropriate for the story. Personally, I'm not using coffee (it's precious to me), or lemon juice (what if I'd cut my finger chopping the garlic?)

So I found my solution and carried on. It has taken me nearly ten days of writing to complete a story I really like. Since I'm writing thirty-one, that means a month of work for three worthwhile stories.

Not much of a success rate, as it stands, but I hope to improve that number.

Word up

Okay, I'm over the rush of triumph from yesterday's news, and it's back to work on the marathon.

It's day three and I'm one story behind. Worse, or better, depending on how you look at it, the two stories written so far are fairly long. It can't possibly be a hangover from Nano, so I guess the stories just need that long to be written.

I'll have to work harder to catch up. Like Nano, I prefer to have extra work done - just in case I can't write on a day or two.

There are plenty of generators to chose stories from. The Seventh Sanctum is my favourite. It has plenty of variety and complexity.

Time to write another - maybe not so long, with a little humour? Joss Whedon suggests at the darkest hour for a character, to have something funny said or happen. I'm still working on that.

O BLah

For too long have we seen pictures of Muslims celebrating the deaths of so-called 'infidels', of Jews and of victims of suicide bombs.

Now, it's our turn to celebrate.

I've been watching Al Jazeera and listening to a man who interviewed OBL (I didn't catch his name). He said that with every success, OBL became more vain, began to believe he was a new Messiah.

To me, he became a coward who believed his own press, who sent brain-washed people out to kill innocent people with only the promise of better things in the afterlife and for no other reason than they believed in different things. For ten years he hid - some hero - spent time in caves and on the run, but always with a 'do as I say, not as I do' attitude.

What he has caused to be done in this world is abhorrent; all the murders, the violence, the terror. All because the Saudis didn't want him to go after Saddam and chose the U.S. instead. All because he thought he single-handedly defeated the Russians and therefore Moscow. Thought himself special enough, he could destroy the U.S. and Washington. Yeah, not so much.

The fundamentalists will turn him into a martyr and continue to kill in his name. The West will continue to fight and kill the fundamentalists in the name of justice.

But for now, the scum-sucking bottom-feeder is dead.

Osama Bin Laden, is now O BLah.

Marathon time

I am back from sunny Canberra, and missed the rain on the coast.

It feels like I've been away for longer than ten days, but we had a good time.

I spent some quality time at the National Library fondling century-old documents. I love history, especially touchable history; snuggling up to Hadrian's Wall, walking the WW1 battlefields, kissing the Blarney Stone, touching Roman antiquities... or is that just me?

I'll get over the squealie fan-girl in a moment.

So. It's time for the Forward Motion story-a-day marathon.

I've written half a story so far. I spent yesterday morning cleaning up and the other half driving with the end-of-the-school-holidays traffic (unbelievable amount of idiots out there) that added an extra hour to the journey.

I confess to being ill-prepared to write. The first story the generator came up with seemed like a good idea at the time, but now... not so much. It might have been because of tiredness, but I shall persist and finish the story and another later today.

A good shot of caffeine should help the neural synapses spark.

ANZACS

Today is ANZAC Day. It is a day of two halves: the Dawn Services around the world at various points of military import, and the afternoon games of AFL, NRL... and two-up down the pub.

The morning is for commemoration; the afternoon, for celebration. One for death, one for life.

It sums up the ANZAC spirit, where we will lower our heads to think of those who fought in foreign lands for freedom and never returned; then, it's a wake, the telling of tales of battles long won or lost and keeping the memory of fallen mates alive.

At the end of the First World War, the discussion turned to reparations and the punishment of Germany.

President Woodrow Wilson (who won the presidency on the promise not to enter the war) advocated generous terms for reparations. In a moment of supreme arrogance, he said to Australian Prime Minister, Billy Hughes (who once punched out a heckler during a campaign for conscription and was as aggrieved as any Australian over the catastrophic losses), "But you only speak for five million people." The offended Hughes snapped back, "I speak for 60,000 dead. For how many do you speak?"

There is no hierarchy on who lost more, every nation involved lost too many due to the military incompetence of those in charge. If Douglas Haig had actually seen the ground on which he sent thousands to fight, he might have developed a different strategy. But he didn't, content to stay at a chateau behind the lines and study out of date maps.

It is the bravery of those men who did their duty, even knowing it meant certain death, that we commemorate today. The sacrifice is not forgotten. As the warriors of all wars are honoured, we salute those who are still in the field, in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in East Timor and elsewhere.

And thank them all for their service.

Far and away

And... here I am in down town sunny Canberra. Okay, not so much 'down town' as in out in the 'burbs.

Good Friday traffic from the coast would have tried the patience of a saint; I settled for grinding the molars as cars consistently slowed to take in the mountain view, or slowly edged around corners that don't need it, then accelerated so no-one could overtake. sigh A three hour trip took four-and-a-half hours - and most of the traffic was going the other way, ie, down to the coast.

I'm here to do some Denman research at the National Library, then take in the new exhibitions at the War Memorial; I haven't been since completing my final year History extended essay way back in 19**. This weekend is also Anzac Day with commemorations around the country.

I can also find stuff to make my aged parent's life much easier - stuff I could not find in a rural shopping hub. I guess for specialist stuff, you have to go to a major city.

I don't think the library will be open tomorrow - shame that - so... I shall just have to shop. No, don't try to stop me, it must be done or I shall be bookless; and what a tragedy that would be. This is, after all, a working holiday.

Don't Honk at Old People

Go the Ninja-Gran!:

Don't Honk at Old People