Wednesday, October 29, 2008
She asks about the settlement on it, but he's very vague on details. But he's a busy man. Very very busy.
And suddenly he announces to her that he's decided he and the wife will have an 'amicable separation'. Oh? says she. Amicable? Look up dictionary. This doesn't describe the situation at all. So what can be used instead? And he swears on a stack of bibles that under no circumstances is there another woman.
Wife is only one to believe him because she always has. Everyone else is exchanging glances. He starts decorating house with a joyful pride which is almost indecent. Is the wife that awful to live with? After all there hadn't been any complaints up until that moment that could be discussed. Nor indeed ever discussed on any meaningful level. Just a wham bam, he's gone ma'am.
Well, at least give the wife a key since she owns half of the darned thing. Key willingly given. A couple of weeks later the house is entered by some nefarious burglar, but strangely the burglar hasn't taken anything. Ooooh. Very spooky. Is this going to be a suspense novel? But the locks have to be changed since there were no signs of a breakin.
So confounding as this is, the husband is assumed to be going through some sort of midlife crisis. Then through a calamitous set of circumstances the wife finds out quite accidentally that there is a mistress. And that a woman had moved in to live in the new love nest. The very same little nest he and his wife had been looking for investment purposes.
Caught! So the plan had been all along to live in it with the mistress and still to look like the good guy. But he got caught with the proverbials. (oh how this plot is thickening along nicely)
So the wife gets very angry and shoots off emails then collapses in total grief. This is, after all, worse than being a widow, no dead body to mourn. No self esteem since she's so ghastly to live with.
So in self defence he shoots back an email which is so nasty it upsets his hitherto very closely knit family. And he's like John Wayne shootin' from the hip. Bang Bang Bang. Ah'm gonna keep ma little woman. She's my trophy. She's closer to his eldest son in age than she is to him. In fact had fate been different it could have been her that could get to keep the son as a prize rather than the father. He tells us how we all going to get to know each other and play ball in the park and that things are going to be just fine and dandy. We might even have a Penney family day picnic. Spend Xmases together under the Xmas tree unwrapping pressies, hugging each other with so much love and understanding.
This plot is bubbling along nicely. Lots of little nuances here and there to play with.
But his children are very upset and write back what they really feel. And tell him that they no more believe he'd only just met the woman, than fly.
But clues start to build, like little pieces of jigsaw puzzle. Turns out he's been having an affair with an employee while he's been off in foreign parts, and that it has been such a cozy arrangement. She's been on a posting overseas but you see, she's due back and he has to find a little love nest for the love birds.
And now they live and work together every day. Off goes a little alarm bell in the morning and out of bed they hop. Kellog Cornflakes and coffee then skip off to work. Then at the end of the day it's dinner and bedtime.
And they live happily ever after.
I do so love a romance. I wonder if I can turn this into a comedy?
Monday, October 27, 2008
The one with the tag in the front of the book that claims him as my rock. The one to whom I dedicated my first anthology story.
The tail end of a marriage full of love 35 years of total love and dedication.
But I have two new best friends.
My darling children. I've discovered what a beautiful bunch of people my ex-best friend made.
They are bewildered and as skittled as am I. We were such a tight little family and now we've been skittled by a huge bowling ball.
It hurts like hell, it sure does. Hurts so much that I think I have writer's block for the first time in my life. I can't do it at the moment, partly because I am basically a writer of comedy. And I can't really find anything funny in life at the moment.
How long will this take to get over? I don't know. My dreams are horrendous. Loss of self esteem is so big I never knew it could get to be this big. Are the days long? Yes. Am I forever beginning to jigsaw things into one piece? Dunno, but little bits of evidence of the lead up are beginning to fall into place, and I can sort of work out about what time the ex-best friend was buying the bowling ball.
Do I hate the woman who took him? Yes I wish she'd fall off a mountain or get crushed by an avalanche, or that if she is on a boat it will sink, but it's not really her that I know I should be angry with.
Have my children got huge issues to deal with? A huge yes...on what is a relationship, since their whole belief system has been crushed. OH YES! To them we were almost an institution. Like a building that could never fall.
At the moment if you asked me what I feel like - I'd cryptically tell you like Pompeii.
If you understand that then you are on the same wavelength as me and you understand.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
A whole Zara Penney dot com. Just for me.
It's growing right under my nose and I'm loving it. It's my very own darling. It's like a little launch to which I can invite all my friends. From there one can blog me or tease me. One can keep me company when I edit.
I haven't had this much fun since... since...
The release date of our anthology.
November 21. Don't forget it.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I guess I am waiting now until the others have finished and we present it to the publisher ready for the galleys.
I feel in a strange mood. My little doggette Baby, has gone to the vet for desexing. I just cannot bear the thought of a little of little darlings, birthing, mess and problems associated with a litter. And I will never forget the experience of having a female rottweiler on heat and a silkie terrier in love with his large black diva.
The house was boarded up like the scene in Les Miserables during the siege of Paris, and darling Chester could not be dissuaged. We bought him a little pair of pants but they didn't work, so we bought a pack of baby disposable nappies and found them abandoned constantly. That was a nightmare episode. So unhappy me is sitting here lady in waiting for the news that Baby is ready to come home.
Now that the new anthology has been finished and landing in at almost 20,000 k's, I go on to edit my WIP which is 60,000 k's.
My critique group also has a Challengemeister with a mission... set us challenges to keep our collective muses (musai?) bustling along. Zee is currently a lady of leisure luxuriating in summer break from her daily slog as professor of english whipping hearts and minds into literates of the written word...
So I'm expecting to be busy.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
This stuff is so full of character... it makes a comedy very easy going and what a rollicking little to-do I am having...
Can you guess?
1. Queer in the attic. (As Seinfeld would say, nothing wrong with that.)
2. Stick a spoon in the wall.
3. Long Meg
4. Touched in the upper works
5. Leg shackled.
6. Parson's mousetrap
7. Cut direct, cut sublime, cut infernal.
9. A mushroom.
11. Make a cake
12. more hair than a wit
13. Maggot in the head
How'd you go? This is a reverse quiz. The more you guess the more I have to tell you to 'get a life' unless you are full of so many IQ digits - this was just the last thing you needed before you emerged as a 'know it all'.
Following is a translation for the dummies.
1. Peculiar or crazy.
2. To die. Originally meant "took up residence" from the fact that in primitive times a leather strap was often nailed to the wall near the fireplace as a place to keep items like spoons. Eventually it came to mean "die", probably because the fireplace pouch - stuff went in and never came out - (read as junk pile or third draw in the kitchen).
3. A tall woman. Long Meg was a notorious woman from Henry VIII and the subjects of ballads and stories of the time.
7. Well cut direct, really would conjur up thoughts of director/movie. But to the regency people this was the ultimate insult. Look the other way - social murder. Cut surblime is to look up to Heaven. and obviously Cut infernal is look down or tie or stoop to adjust a shoe.
8. A women who gave sexual favors for payment ie., mistress or courtesan.(Aphrodite the Goddess of Love from the island of Cyprus.)
9. A sudden rise to eminence and riches as would a mushroom grow in the night.
10. A lie.
11. Make a fool of yourself. (*Half-baked)
12. Not very smart.
13. A strange notion
As a fan of how English changes it's meaning over time, language developing - this is quite a fascinating transition.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
The dog peed in the hallway.
It's a Monday.
Read my emails, even the junkmail, cos there was nothing substantial there.
The dog is even a little energyless.
They are cutting a tree down across the road. Poor tree. It was a question of
the tree or the house. The dwelling won. But there's going to be an empty space on the street. Poor tree - just sitting there minding it's own business.
Need to carry on with edits. No energy.
Laundry basket overrun with clothes and a dog who's doing a degree of underwear at the University of Life.
Need to ring vet.
Cold KFC for lunch.
No. Depression it isn't. Just slow roasted procrastination.
The sun is shining.
Decided to write and illustrate a graphic novel.
And it's a perfect day to wash/edit/eat KFC/ringing vets/seek inspiration/in other words:
What's the prob Bob?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
I've finished my manuscript and well into the editing mode and it's getting tighter and tighter as I flip through it looking for repetitions, dead spots, punctuating as I go... making decisions whether something works, better and better, layering - always layering - until I am satisfied that this is the best work I have ever done.
Because as I write I know I get better and better. That is the way of the world. And if I'm not getting better then I am not trying. But then I am always trying and I know, relentless is a good word to have attached to my nature. There's another term - its called dogged determination.
This is a trait shown very well by Baby. She is testing out her puppy's voice. She barks at everything. EVERYTHING! Even the rain drops falling from the trees just recently. What she doesn't know are the frequent calls from the neighbors who are ready to shoot her with a bebe gun I would think by this stage. But how do you tell a six month old puppy that it's antisocial to bark?
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
And so, having been brought to this point by a blog from one of my colleagues over at Romance Writers Unlimited - see link to the right - I am forced to expose the muse, the star of my current work in progress. Of course he was caught at the makeup room but believe me, this boy barely needs it.
It's lovely to be able to touch him, think about him, have him with you to remind you that your imagination is calling you.
(It's not easy blogging while Baby - who has just discovered a delightful source of human endeavor... the dirty clothers hamper, and mastered the art of underpants tennis - and I might add that she's Federra to my Jerry Lewis)
back to maingame:
Where was I?:
Oh, yes, muse:
... to remind you that your imagination is calling... "Baby bring that back...
"My writing career is over or better still..
"Come back here,
"Scuse me! Gotta run!
"Baby! Baby! Come back here..."
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
1 Waking up and saying "I've reached my ideal weight."
2 Winning the lottery.
3 Mornings in my Manhatten Apartment on Fifth Avenue.
4 George Clooney ringing me up and insisting that I stop editing and come to dinner.
That's high range.
Now for middle range.
5 Sending the last galley back to the editor.
6 Icecream French Vanilla with chocolate.
7 Playing with my dolls
8 Bargains at a sale.
9 A new pair of shoes.
Then there's low range.
10 Two seconds after the whole washing pile has been hung.
11 Two2 seconds after the whole ironing pile has been done.
12 The bed's made, dishes disappeared from the sink, and the dog is brushed.
And then free range.
13 Yay. Finished the editing!
Special cheap flights, standing room only.
For longer flights a chair could be rented for limited periods, but strictly on during in-flight. Take off and landing standing room only.
Sad but probably had a few phone calls from the same mob that helps Nigerians out of their dollar dilemmas.
Yawn. So I thought I'd post my complaint here too...yawn.
what's the time?
Mmmm still nine hundred hours until postman gets here.
something interesting on radio?
play with doll
interesting link while googling
cup of tea
gee I feel sleepy
fiddle with doll who is current muse for Regency period.
Gawd! Doris Day is 84 today! HB Ms. Kapplehoff.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
In other words.
I have no life.
But the people in my manuscript sure do. They have a life. I gave it to them. They came out of my head, dammit! You see there's life in the old girl yet.
I gotta get a life. I can't get romance because I quite like the current model. He Who Would Like to be Obeyed is a bit of a keeper! So what's left. Babies? Done that. Two are enough. Dinner parties arguing the pros and cons of the recent election with people who probably voted for the current idiots anyway. Football? Tennis clubs? Hotel for drinkies on Saturday night?
I'd much rather tuck my bunny slippers under my backside and do what I'm doing.
Dream on Zara. Dream on.
PS. If you missed, you millions of silent lurkers, I've been blogging on the Romance Writers Unlimited blog.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
She will be capturing the hearts of more than one who come to know her over her life time. And her mother's a lizzard. Her grandmother's little doll.
Phoebe has caught her own little faerie.
And this on the eve of the debut of The Enchanted Faerie.
It's like deciding to paint one of the walls because it's dirty. You buy enough to paint that wall. Stand back and ready to admire. No next wall is dirty. Back down to buy some more paint. Paint that wall. Stand bck and ready to admire. No next wall is dirty, so back on down to buy some more paint.
But this time you make an honest woman of yourself. YOu buy enough for two walls and before you are finished you have the whole room painted and it cost you twice as much 'cos you get a discount if you buy in bulk! That is a fact of life. Like you are always last in the queue. Or if you have just cleaned your car after six months of dirt, you almost forgot the color... It rains!
Editing the second galleys of Securement of Greggie Donald. And what do you think? One bitty little mistake, a missing comma?
My editor is going to kill me but I really didn't see them! Swear!
And for those of you who read the last post, the T13 the answer is yes.
I am still crying at the ending of Greggie Donald. STill.
Told you I'm a sook.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
1. Porgy and Bess.
2. Carmen Jones - the American movie version in English. Joe is a boxer.
3. Gone with the Wind. Rhett why did you have to leave just when...
4. You're gonna laugh but the ending of my anthology story - THE SECUREMENT OF GREGGIE DONALD. Yes I know. It's as bad as laughing at your own jokes but yes, I cry every time I get to the end.
5. The ending of Sleepless in Seattle.
6. The ending of Pretty Woman.
7. What do the Simple Folk do? To help when their feelings are blue, from Camelot.
8. Old Lassie movies. Just the music makes me cry. I don't even have to watch.
9. Jane Eyre.
10. Yentyl. Love Barb S. Biggest fan. "Oh you bake cookies too?"
11. War and Peace.
12. Losing something I really wanted on Ebay.
13. Getting lost. I do it so well.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
And play I will here. List of things while he's away.
Not make bed until absolutely necessary.
Eat what I feel like when I feel like it.
Get around like a frump.
Cross fingers that the computer keeps working.
Hope burglars don't bust down the door.
Get a flat tyre.
The dishwasher keeps working.
Internet doesn't muck up.
Oh dear. Now he isn't here the list looks quite depressing.
And two and a half weeks looks depressingly far away.
Friday, February 29, 2008
14. She doesn't read the rules.
Here's the 7th to 14th random thing about me.
7. I fall in love with my heros. I'm a hopeless romantic. By the time you read my stories, this guy is second hand goods! (I've already had him and onto the next one.) Ahhhh love'em and leave'em - I guess I am a floozey at heart.
8. I love people who laugh. You can tell them at 50 paces. It lives in their voices. It's never very far away from them. They are usually optimistic, glass half full types. They are usually spontaneous. I'm a Kay Thompson/Elouise type. And I've never grown up. "Zara act your age!" What? Six and a half? Okay, but don't you see? I already am thank you very much!
9. I'm a chicken. Now if anyone says fun park to me I think, Oh no. What fun park? Is this the one where you have to ride stuff that scares the "beep" out of you? The one where everyone is having so much fun they are screaming in fear? Where they are trying to turn their stomachs inside out? And then have a greasy hamburger and keep it down? Maybe that's why I chose writing. If one has fun screaming then try sending out a manuscript. Yeah yeah. At least the hamburger stays put. I wish I could swish down a slope at G-force - yodling as I search for danger to thrill me... but go to 10.
10. I'd make a great rich person.
11. Why don't they make remote controls that have On/Off Pause/resume Volume-up/down?
12. Situations find me attractive. Red/yellow lights. Bank/supermarket queues. Mosquitoes. Dog poo and chewing gum. Flat batteries. Every size but mine in the best bargain of the century. Internet breaks down the minute my in-house comp-nerd walks out for more than a day (Lord He who would love to be obeyed.
Are you ready for it? The big one... the drums are rolling, the stage lights are all directed at the stage, ladies and gentlemen, the star of the blog...
Ms Zara Penney...
Ms Zara Penney...
Ms Zara Penney...
Ms Zara Penney...
13. We are very sorry but we couldn't find Zara Penney so here's her understudy.
(and I forgot to mention there's no doorbell on Zaraworld)
First of all, the rules.
1. Link back to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six random things about you
4. Tag six random people at the end of your blog entry
5. Let the tagged people know by leaving a comment on their blog.
Tagger: Gina Ardito (see her link on the right side)
Taggee: Zara Penney
1. I can cry at the drop of a hat. Basically I'm an actress at heart. I'd be great on stage but I freeze. I'm abysmal. So I write. But cry?
Weddings, funerals, movies, why I cry at the end of Pretty Woman and Seepless in Seattle!
2. I don't do sun,sand,surf. Apparently even when I was a few months old, I sat with a look of 'yuck' on my face and my hands in the air, on Bondi beach. I think I'm Eskimo - my stork was a deaf dork - he was told 'drop her in New York'. He misunderstood. Bondi Bloody Beach!
3. When I was little my sister's bedspread worked. Mine didn't. No matter how I tried, her's never had bumps. I tried swapping but it still didn't work. Same with ironing. Her pre looks like my apres. I don't mind ironing. It gives me an excuse to get information from Oprah on all manner of things. Menopause. Clooney. De-cluttering homes. But she never gave a program on ironing, maybe?... no won't go there.
4. I get lost very easily. I hate asking directions because I know I'm already lost again by the second 'go left then follow through until you get to the..." my eyes haze and I'm re-lost.
5. I wonder if I ever didn't have Altzheimers. I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on. "Zara you'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on." My head doesn't have little pockets in it like other people. My sister remembers every little hurt I ever imposed on her. Even the cut-out dolls I used to draw - well I did keep my best for me... but then she had a perfect bedspread and I didn't.
6. Zaraworld. This is a universe in itself. The people who live next to it think it's a mystery. "Zara did you hear me?" Well, you want the long answer or the short answer? Never mind it's a universal, resoundig NO. You should knock. "Hello? Anyone there?" Chances are I'm down in the basement immersed in thoughts. Some profound, some insane, and some mundane. I try to come out long enough to please people but the portal is very slippery if your name is Zara Penney.
Unwitting list of taggees - you can visit them from my links list:
Heidi Wessman Kneale
The Artful Muse
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Of course albinos dwarves with diabetes are quite common in Mercato. Indeed Sicily is well known for its mafiosa, its markets and its albino dwarves. But how did it come about. The mafiosa, the markets and albino dwarves.
Back in ancient times, Sicily was much desired by both Italy and many of the Mediterranean states from Egypt to Africa. It is said that the Queen of Sheba herself desired it above all else but despite all of Solomon’s wisdom and wealth, it was the one crown jewel he was unable to bestow upon her.
You see the secret of Sicily’s success is the Count of Mercato. The court of Count Mercato was a rich and wealthy place. It’s influence spread far and wide, and his army was so powerful. Nobody ever really understood why. In fact they never understood, though it was boasted about, this huge army, nobody ever saw any evidence of it. No! Absolutely none! Not a single guard. Not a single soldier.
Yet if one googles properly one can continually find mention of Altolvo the Magnificent. He was said to be one of the greatest Sicilian generals of all time. And led his fearless followers into battle.
And hence this tiny island has nestled in eternal safety amongst those that have continually desired its central Mediterranean geography. Where wine grows in abundance and fruit of the land is rich and generous. Where olive groves shade the hot and weary. And wear goats offer generous milks which readily transform into cheeses such as feta and yoghurts and Philadelphia Cream Halumi.
Now you might be asking what albino dwarves? Of course you have never seen one. There isn’t even a likeness of the great Altolvo himself. Not a single sculpture nor sketch nor carving. Nor description. Yet his memory is so vivid amongst Sicily’s native sons and daughters. It is because they all had sugar diabetes. They are small, white and melt away in the heat.
Eventually they sent their sons to all parts of the world. Where the breed grew both in numbers and stature. We have all known the activities of these descendants of the Sicilian albino dwarves. They flourished especially in the United States of America in the twenties during the prohibition. The alcohol proved most beneficial to the particular kind of Sicilian albino dwarfism. The most famous of them was Marlon Brando followed by Al Pacino, and James Caan. Yes you are surprised. All three of them are descended from the famous white albino dwarves of Sicily. Yes, I know you are shocked and never suspected this. But listen to that song, that famous song, you are humming it inside your head. It will probably stay with you all day long. In fact it was written on the spirits of the ancestors of these men and others.
The albino dwarves of Sicily.
But it is all true. Just Google it and see for yourself.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Truth is I really don't hate it. I can plot while I just mindlessly iron.
Back, forth, fold.
London. They race through the streets. She looks behind her.
"Quick, turn here!"
Quim looked into the mirror. The black limousine was still behind them.
"They realise we've seen them. Hold onto your seat!"
She screamed. Really loudly. This was way beyond her comfort zone. Way way beyond.
But then so was imminent death. That was all they were faced with if Crosby got to them before...
Up Barker Street. A little old lady was crossing the road. "Look out for the the little old lady!"
They swerved. Hit a parked car.
"Why don't we drive past the police station down on Sir Humphrey Nightpole Square?"
He swerved back onto the road. She glanced at the parked car. It's owner was emerging from his house, fist raised. She also glanced back behind them. The black limousine was there, relentless and threatening. Big, black, solid and
Hang the shirt.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Take My Fair Lady for intance.
I could have pranced all knight.
I could have pranced all knight.
And still have begged four more.
I could have spilled my beans
And made a thousand stains
And still have stained some more.
I should have grown and made it so inviting
Why every dunce could do it once or twice...
I only know when he began to prance with me
I could have PRANCED PRANCED PRANCED ALL KNIGHT!
I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
I'm gonna wash that Zit right outta my hair
and zend on his vay.
I know a lot of songs like this. My mother used to sing. My sister and I learned them at my mother's knee. Including foreign songs.
Only she's not so good at grabbing the words. I once lived in a place called Kfar Hassidim. She could never say it.
She could only ever say it like one well known clothing chain, (French Connection) we all know and love but can never say allowed...
You wouldn't be able to be my mother and survive Jerusalem. But then could Jerusalem survive my mother?
Back to writing. This was just a little bit of divergency. I'm in edit mode. This means pondering for ten minutes over a comma. It means cutting out whole paragraphs of exsquisite prose. FOREVER! It means you've used the name for half the novel and suddenly for some reason changed the dog's name. But it also means that you've reached the end of your precious months of toil. That you are on the bendy end of the envelope. That you can beg for your rejection slip well before Xmas so you can enjoy the cake and eat it too.
Just in case you are wondering about Baby. She has now officially outgrown the little baby doggy bed she came home in. Now she wears it like a tortoise shell. This is a game. She hops under it and walks around with her tail out doubled over it. Fluffy shitzu tail. She's gorgeous.
Now would you like me to sing you -
I'm as Horny as Canvas in August?
I respect everyone of my crowd to have fun
and make loud restorations of faith in their pants,
And they'll say I'm so sweet like a baby to sneeze
on the table so near while my mother just rants.
Fearlessly I'll face them and argue their pouts away,
Loudly I'll spit about breadcrumbs that spring,
Flatly I'll stand on my little flat feet and say
Two 'flat' words ain't a beautiful thing!
I'm not ashamed to reveal
The world famous feelin' I feel.
I'm as horny as canvas in August,
I'm as formal as blueberry pie.
No more a smart little tart with no heart,
I have found me a wonderful buy!
I am in a contentional dither,
With a cementable star in my pie.
And you will note there's a grump in the boat
When I speak of that wonderful buy!
I'm as right and as any gay and as crazy,
A ricochet comin' through!
I'm repetitive and trite
As a spoon-crappy fight
Pourin' fright on the dune!
I'm as horny as canvas in August,
If you'll refuse an repression of juice,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love with a wonderful buy!
I'm as frightfully gay as a crazy inmate,
In a rich Roman zoo!
I'm nomadic and tight
As a moon-happy knight
Pourin' light on the dune!
I'm as horny as canvas in August,
Fight like a nag on the Fourth of July!
If you'll excuse an repression I choose,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
Nellie and Girls
I'm in love with a wonderful buy!
Monday, January 28, 2008
So this brings me to the main puzzle of my life.
Is it only my clothes - the ones that come home in my shopping bag to live with me until they die - that have
DO NOT TUMBLE DRY
Yes. I'm out there at the clothes line matching the socks, hanging the sheets, and the shirts. The t-shirts in their relationship to the color chart, and making sure that no item has a mismatched color peggery. Yet mine's the only clothesline on the block. Nobody else uses one. So? Does that mean? Every one else uses black magic - or - the - tumble - dryer?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Having posted on Wednesday, that I'd notice that the next day was...
That I had to start thinking about...
That there was something missing out of my brain...
The rather fast around the week approaching was the 'but I only did it yesterday'...
THE BIG T
THIRTEEN OF THE BEST
THURSDAY THIRTEEN. But then why am I shouting?
So it's two days late. Sue me.
1. Because I should be writing.
2. Because I have to brush the dog.
3. Because I have to research my Regency novel.
4. Because I didn't have the car on Tuesday.
5. Because I had to tidy the study to find something.
6. Because I was paralysed without the internet.
7. Because It was raining
8. Because I only had one sock (the dog stole the other one)
9. Because I had a short story for my critique group.
10. Because I had to pay some bills (that time of the month).
11. Because I have too many Indians ringing me to offer me fantastic deals on phone calls.
12. Because I had 400 emails this week.
13. Because I had to drive my husband to work.
"Why I didn't iron this week."
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
You are The Star
Hope, expectation, Bright promises.
The Star is one of the great cards of faith, dreams realised
The Star is a card that looks to the future. It does not predict any immediate or powerful change, but it does predict hope and healing. This card suggests clarity of vision, spiritual insight. And, most importantly, that unexpected help will be coming, with water to quench your thirst, with a guiding light to the future. They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
This comes amazingly close to me, moi, myself.
Baby is learning to become a lap dog. I am learning about how hard it is to internet and write with a lap dog. Given that she is still a baby I'm glad she's not a Great Dane. I'd be in serious difficulties...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The modem broke. It took three days to work that out. Three days without the internet. Three days of madness.
No interacting with the world I have come to know here on this internet community.
I was alone. ALONE! Cut off from information sources.
Cut off from everything comfortable. Emails.
Okay so the internet may creep in insipidly, take over my heart and mind, but since it is here:
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Warning lights are flashing over the front door like the ON AIR outside a radio studio.
My lights say:
RESEARCH IN PROGRESS
This means a variety of things.
Piles of books accumulate. (I have books on a wide variety of subjects.)
Days are spent Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooogle-ing
I walk around talking to myself.
Dinner is late.
Ironing never gets off the ground.
New characters are in my head demanding fresh fodder.
And if someone in India rings me up from a call centre, I am not a nice person.
You'd never know how much I enjoy it. You'd never suspect it'd be hard work.
Just don't disturb me.
I'm having too much fun.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
1. I say actually a lot. Actually this, and actually that. HewhoWouldLovetobeObeyed wants to censor my actually. But actually, I actually don't give a stuff. I will say actually as many times as I want, actually.
2. I hate people who want to wash my windscreen. NO. NO. I DO NOT WANT YOU TO TOUCH MY CAR. You intimidate me. Invade my space. Go earn your dole check by helping little old ladies across the road. Your dole check comes out of my taxes and for that to be paid I get out of bed, catch a bus and go EARN it. Not beg for five cent sneaky undeclarable income.
3. Yes I'm a grump. Why? Because I can.
4. Today I feel flat, therefore I iron.
5. Yesterday my keyboard died. This one is a new one. Before it was given a burial in the garbade I tried the batteries. New ones. When I lifted it back to test I notice there was a decided history of dropped items into it's keys. Sesame seeds, breadcrumbs, pencil rubbings, paperclips (exaggeration but it's a because I ccan list right?)
6. I can also wave a you. Hello you. If you are here you deserve a wave. If I am still here waving at you in a few hours time that means (a) I have not written a word of novel. (b) my flat mood has not translated into a day of ironing. or (c) you have to have a c when you have an a and a b - but I don't have anything to put in it.
7. Today's lunch is definitely going to be a vegemite sandwich. If you don't know what that is, then don't ask. They used it once in an advertising campaign for Kraft which now owns it. "If you can sell this you can sell anything." was the slogan and it was sent to corporations. If you know then, hang five!
8. It's raining. I love rain. I adore rain. Have I ever told you how much I like rain?
9. If you have made it up to here on my T13 list I do have a bit of advice for you.
Get a life!
10. Zee's new challenge is excellent. I chose a picture and the sentence: He knew he would regret... I will probably post it here in a couple of week's time after the critiquing has been done by all the participants of my critique group.
11. There are names in links on this site for whom 2008 will be their brilliant year. Many of them have new publications coming out this year.
12. My second anthology story has been started. It's set in Regency times. I am enjoying the research and can rattle on quite a decent dialogue in Regency speak. "You are well suited to your pursuit of pleasure, Sir. I shall not hesitate to tell you this minute that in this, you definitely do not display laziness." Which is one way a heroine could complain about his use of the remote control whilst watching the sport's channels on television.
13. Around this time, there is something I love. It's the Military Tattoo in Edinburgh. I cannot tell you why, but it is very stirring. Perhaps all those drums and bagpipes tap the source of the inner ancient me.
And all that is left is to wave at you again.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
A woman needs a submarine to fathom them and even then ????
1. WHY is it okay when he tells you to park here? If I tell him, it's nagging. He tells me and it's supposed to be a gentle nudge of logic.
2. WHY don't men ask directions? Need I say more?
3. WHAT'S wrong with the lights? Red means stop, green means go. WHY drive 60 kilometres the other way to avoid the lights. Especially when it was man that invented the damn things.
4. WHY do men think it's strange to rinse the dishes before they go into the diswasher? It's not an insinkerator. And the stuff'll smell if you don't start the machine for a couple of days.
5. WHY, when I tell him he needs something new, I mean half a dozen, yet he'll go all the way to the shop and buy one?
6. WHY, when he does the dishes, is there always 'something' he's missed washing or putting away?
7. WHY do I bother ironing his t-shirts? I put them into very satisfyingly neat little piles and the following week, when my next little pile goes in, the previous one needs ironing again? (This question is really Why am I so stupid?)
8. WHY do I have to tell him that mowing the lawn is dangerous in thongs? Am I the Goddess of Safety? Why would goggles when cutting wood be such a good idea. Is it just me and the one who invented them that can see the potential accident waiting for your husband to happen?
9. WHY are the singlets and tee shirts always inside out? ... ??? ...
10. WHY does he hate going to the supermarket with me? We only go for two or three things, but honestly, can I help it if I see fifty other things I needed. Lightbulbs? Matches? Candles for the next blackout?
11. WHY does he think pockets are for putting things in? No they aren't. Women have it right. They keep the stuff in their bags. No, not him. Still, I guess he thinks it's fun finding the biro in the bottom of the washing machine, or the business card from his shirt pocket? It used to be fun. I did fund some jewellery with washed coins I'd save from them into high numbers from this little caper, but he discovered my secret and bought a coin pouch. Since then it's been a desert of biros and business cards all the way.
12. WHY doesn't he think that hanging his jacket evenly on the coathanger might stop it from getting odd little bumps in it?
13. WHY is this creature so sort after by we women? Some of us marry them in job lots, up to three and four repeat times? Some of us write romances based on this strange creature. What is it about women that they'd punish themselves like this? I mean, all it gets us is a strange creature who does all of the above. Gives us a few babies, some of which might be carbon copies and turn into 13 year olds. Do I need to hang onto one of these strange creatures because they can tune the television?/open bottle tops?/hold an awful kishke-jarring thing called a lawn mower?/change car tyres?/unflatten flat batteries?/carry suitcases?/reads my m/s without complaint?/likes my cooking?/is my best friend?/oh heck... I'd hate to see his T13 on me up on cloud 9.
I do love that Hewhowouldlovetobeobeyed.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Slightly inland, where I live it is simply raining.
When I am writing these days in Coward's Castle there is a lovely spot outside where I set up my laptop and listen to the birds. One of the birds is Qantas since we are ever so slightly affected with traffic coming into land from far flung places. I love aeroplanes. I have since I was a kid. For me they spell exotique. They can take me places where I join my imagination.
Places I'd love to go:
1. New York. The big apple. Things happen here. People happen. I get a buzz. I think it's an either hate or love place - you do or you don't. I'm a do.
2. London. Was there twice in 07. Love to do a duo again. My son lives there. He loves it. Jump on a train over the canal and you can get to:
3. Paris. Different. Walkable. Eye Candy. Daughter loved NY, then London, then decided she'd do a Liza Doolittle there, open a corner bloom shop and live a dream. Me? I'd rather New York. But then there's...
4. Switzerland. We went there often in aroundabout the seventies, when I lived in Nigeria. Yes I did live in Nigeria. What was it like? It was strictly love/hate. I hated the robbers. They were scary. I loved drives in the country where we met the people. They are gorgeous. I want to go back but I don't. I don't want to spoil my memories of what I had back in those days because I suspect they are long gone. Not the lovely people in the country, they will never change. It's the cities that change. The cities which drag the innocent in to lose their innocence. Where the robbers get hungry for the spoils of theft. But at the moment it's Switzerland I talk of. That place where on-time means just that. Where the whiteness of mountains full of pines, where - oh just go there if you can. It's picture postcard. Which reminds me that I often went to:
5. Italy. I love Italy. The scooters hooting and tooting their way through the paved streets. I love the chaos that it is. So if you meet a long lost cousin in the street in your cars, you stop, have a chat. Horns toot, other Italians who don't know how long it is since you met cannot get through but Hay! Mama Mia! I haven't seen Gianni in two weeks! Wait! Wait! Mama Mia! Just for your screaming and tooting and the time I'm wasting telling you crazies to waste I have to spend longer cos you're interrupting me... hay hay...
6. Hong Kong. We lived here for a year. Well Hewhoshouldbeobeyed Lord Muck lived here for a year. I wafted in and out like Lady Muck backing and forthing between here and Sydney, while my children created havoc on their own at home 'alone'. There is a magic about Hong Kong. Indefinable. We lived in Mosque Street, near the escalators on the mainland. Not too far away from the Governor General's house and near where one took the cable train to the lookout. There was a bird in the tree across the road that I called the whoopee bird. I have no idea what it was but it was annoying. It did something like...
Whoop -> higher Whoop -> Higher WHOOP -> Even HIGHER WHOOP and then it'd wait. Or you'd wait, wait, wait, wait, come on you darn bird do it! Do it! Come on bird go go go <- <- <- <- <- then the whistle would go down the scales like a Nazi bomb just buzzing over wartime London.
7. Los Angeles. You are probably wondering why I've included this when I could go for places such as Amsterdam, or Antwerp. Wait. Los Angeles. I just like it. I can't explain. And also:
8. San Francisco. Ahhhhh. The Presidio. For some reason I have latched onto this treasure. It sings to me. Right under the armpit of the wonderful red bridge is this old army barracks/base. I can hear the beat of the music of that place of soldiers living their days, of the big bands of the era with the likes of Frank Sinatras singing big band songs, of those lives lived and lost at infancy of later teenagehood and early twenties...
9. Amsterdam. Only been there once but it was great. We did a bike trip. I discoverd that my bottom had feelings and that feeling it at the end of a day-trip through those streets out into the country kept me standing for at least two days afterwards.
10. New York. Did I say that already... Mmmm well... New Orleans. Oh my God is it hot in New Orleans. WE were there before the big storm. I loved it and I am sad for it. I'm not sure I want to see it in case it's lost some of that magic that was it. Day time, night time... fun time. Boy but was it hot there.
11. Solomon Islands. Now I have a memory of this place. A certain little island there that we stayed on by default. A no room at the Inn situation. The owner gave us the hut on the island owned by him a mile away by speed boat. We'd spent the day with people who reminisced about the Japanese soldiers left behind - never to surrender - after WWII and the battles of the Guada Canal. I was fascinated by the stories of how they'd put up speakers about the various islands and try to entice the soldiers out, telling them that the war was over. That was until the generator's one hour supply stopped and we were alone in the hut on our own island in the Pacific, just the two of us and oh no! How many Japanese soldiers?????? My husband reassured me. "Never mind we just shove our camera out the window and scream 'Mitzubishi, Toyota, Samsung, Canon!' We woke up in one piece in the morning and walked the silver shores completely alone in the world the next morning, at early dawn. Magic, absolute magic.
12. Israel. Jerusalem. Tel Aviv. Haifa. It's one of those places, which, like Switzerland lives up to your wildest imagination.
13. Here I am at thirteen and only starting. Two days ago I went on a trip to the Hunter Valley, the wine growing area. On the bus were people from all over the world and one couple from the US base in Okinawa. So I thought I must include Japan. It is wonder. Again I've only been there once and that was a long time ago. The people were so lovely. Welcoming and friendly.
And I will stop here because I'm making this my Thursday 13, late as usual.
I need to do a wash. It's not raining at the moment. It hasn't all morning. I just know if I hang a wash out it's going to open up the Heavens and make them hungry all over again.
Or I will write.
That's one of the reasons why it's nice to be an author. You always always always have an excuse.