The positive of procrastination.

Self explanatory. Ask any author. (and ask any treadmiller too)

Oh what a beautiful mornin'

It's supposed to rain. Welcome to my blog. That place where no paragraphs exist. ...... That's my paragraph break until things change. ...... I'm going to try to be faithful to the edict of half hour daily treadmill. Good juices versus bad juices of inactivity. ..... Last night talk on depression. All mentions for positive thinking are connected to exercise. Computer age of man is destroying activity. So treadmill, dear enemy/friend of mine. ..... Enemy as in guilt. ..... Friend as in positive thinking. ..... Paragraph spacing is easier. .....

Hi. Welcome to your new Blogger design.

We are excited about the new changes. I'm not. We hope you enjoy the new format. No. I'm not. First of all, the paragraph breaks simply don't happen. Grrrr

Journal of days.

A friend, a professor of English who is writing a course using journal skills as a tool for writing, inspiration, enduring diligence, perseverence, practice and just plain old reference in what you were doing today in a year's time, said: My students will write a journal every day. By coincidence the Jennie Cruisie daily dose of what she is blogging about landed in my inbox and guess what? What? She was talking about her past jottings in her blog as an insight into what she had been thinking and been up to in a certain time in her life and a certain book. Though she didn't necessarily write them all in her journal, it reminded her clearly what shse had been thinking and what had been going on around her at that time. Time is something we all forget. Journals are good for you. Discipline darlings. It's easy to find an excuse but journals are unforgiving. Dates leave gaping holes.

Tried hard.

Didn't work. Dribble. But maybe there'll be a miracle tomorrow. Until then, Hasta la vista.

50 shades and 67 pages.

Been on page 67 for a week. The trilogy has more than 1500 altogether. But if she is buying a 5 million house in Manhattan or London or something, then I'll live in hope and keep reading. I like her writing style, despite harsh criticisms I hear. I think she's being judged on content (and jeered) - her characters are both extreme odds and not very real. One is over egoed, while the other is just bordering on Pauline (Perils of Pauline) tied to the rail track and watching the steam train thug along in her direction. It is a lesson in how all elements of a story count. POV, person, world building, character building, right balance of character to character. Example the hero is a dickhead. He's a bully. I'd rather have Woody Allen than this bore. But he keeps chasing the heroine. I wouldn't. He has all these sexy blondes yet he's going for the mouse in the house. But don't be scathing anynone here reading this blog. She's on the NY best seller list and buying a 5 million mansion brownstone south of Huston and mannnnnnn the odds for a writer are better here than for winning the lottery!!!! At least as a writer you have half a chance. What's that? 50-1?

Drop the world just concentrate.

Outside forces are trying to interfere with my creativity. Some of them I can ignore. Others I must try. And yet others I cannot avoid. <b>So where and what do I cull. Morman, Jehovah Witnesses, Electricity sign up to a new package people. The real estate man who wants to sell my nest. Politics. I must try to avoid</b>: Politics. Grrrr. >Cannot avoid: Bills, money. Dentist. Supermarket. Don't want to avoid: Santa Claus. Hairdresser. Cleaning lady. Dog clipper. Everything else is fattening. So my advice to everynone is: Get on with it. Once you 've decided on the priorities, then the rest is just plain old creativity.

Once loved, twice shy.

As life takes on many challenges. Including just getting through the day. But if you are a writer there are more challenges. And exposing challenges because failure is just around the corner if you don't write.

Wait a minute.

I know I'm computer technically challenged but something's changed here. Will have to investigate... Feeling slightly guilty. Every day I don't post. When I do I swear I'm turning a new leaf. But seems my new leaves just get left in the recycle to garden waste bin. Yesterday I did finish something on Prudella. She's a wonderful character, and I've called the novel Manshy. She's determined not to fall in love. Why? Because that's what her mother wants. Anything her mother wants Prudella doesn't. It's a form of adult as in a relative of the teenage rebellion. I'm flying by the seat of my pants with this. I know roughly where I want to go but I want this to be a kind of Sex and the City, each chapter is a story or commentary on it's own. Stand alone. Its kind of fun but still ambling along without really getting anywhere. But at least it's gathering speed and volition of its own making.

Okay everynone

So full of joy. And how little it takes. I found a first edition book of Charles Dana Gibson dated 1904 and autographed. Charles is a famous American illustrator who is well known for his "Gibson Girl" pen and ink style. Love his things.

He is one of the best illustrators of the 1890's.

His girls are attitude-full, and probably the first sign of women coming into their own and so beautiful.

It doesn't take much to please me. But this is a joy full - on its way to me. Thanks Hilde! My American angel who will intercept the post for me and forward it on to the antipodes. Some people just won't post overseas which in today's inter world is very very colloquial but one day the global world will register well in the USA.

To tweet or not to tweet - that is the question.

I don't get it. They're all doing it and I'm the only one in the whole wide world who doesn't get the point of it. It's quite a dismal thing by the look of it. So self indulgent and in actual fact even the most famous become dismal. I don't know if it's just me but it just seems so pointless but even multi billionaires are doing it. Future Presidents and movies stars are doing it.
I have an account for it @penneyoz but I haven't indulged and here's the rub...

YET!

I have ideas.

But what are ideas without motivation.

Just a car with the tyres missing.

And just so you know....

In complying with that serious commitment on New Year resolutions, this is my second foray into this place for 2012. Who can beleive it's already 12 instead of 11. My checkbook has been surprisingly well behaved in this serious changeover period.

And it is Sunday - touching the belly of February. I hope this isn't a leap year. I need every day I can get to keep the aging brigade away!

Must admit. Today isn't as inspiring as I would like.

S'pose it's time to post the first missive of 2012

Well, folk(s). Since there aren't m-any of you waithing enthusiastically for my wit and wisdom, let's assume there are thousands.

My list of new year intentions is empty. I don't smoke so that could be the only potential. And my vices... well they are vices and you don't give them up unless they end you up in jail. For the purists - gaol - but I'm a preferred non-purist. The Americans got it right. However they do spoil their pure record of straight forward talk by saying off of.

My creative gene is getting itchy. Unfortunately from the brilliant plot I had in my head about three weeks ago, I didn't write down and I'm waiting for something to trigger it back into my head. Maybe some sunshine? We haven't had much of it this summer.

Okay, okay. So what if I make a New Year Res right now... really!

I will post every day.

Stop laughing. It's a NY res and meant to be broken! Really!

'spose it's time to post the last 2011

Sigh. Another year! Hope you all enjoy 2012!

Winter is lingering.

I feel summery sometimes but I am a winter person. Maybe I was a polar bear in a former life? But I wouldn't have been a successful one because I'd hate to go fishing for dinner in the icey Arctic waters. I'm always cold.

Isn't funny how we always kind of think of ourselves in a former life as something constructive. Like... have you ever imagined you might have been a rattle snake? Or a rose bug who eats precious garden roses?

Or even a bag of compost - ie. thousands of tiny pieces of a horse's excrement?

But I am not really thinking of former lives at the moment. Now is really coping with the end of a life. A life of a talented woman, always proud and well dressed. One who prided herself on how she presented and conducted her life. Perhaps a little vain because she had plenty to be vain about. She was Grace Kelly beautiful. She painted and sang like a bird. She should have been famous in some way, but held back by a selfish very vain mother who sacrificed her family for her own selfish objectives. But...

Now the fading or even faded beauty has gone, and left in its place a shadow. One who shuffles down the hall of a behind-locked-doors old age facility. Shuffles off to a dining room where she indulges in overeating, something she's never done before. Is grossly overweight and has less of a memory than a goldfish.

For years she and my father turned up on a regular basis at the doctors to overdose on drugs they didn't need so many of, and looked after their health. My father died almost in his sleep. My mother isn't. She's as healthy as a horse where it doesn't count. She cannot do anything with her day except eat. I don't want to end up like this. They say it's only those left behind that suffer sadness but for my own personal ambitions, I don't want to leave anyone feeling this sad and sorry for me.

This person used to be my mother. Now she's just another vegetable. Is this to be my inheritance. Relief when she is no longer with us? Don't answer this question unless you are in the same boat because you will never never know what this feels like unless you are.

Ever get the feelin'

Ever get the feeling you are the only feather in the cap? That the blog is falling on deaf ears? That you are ringing the bell, ie., pulling the rope but the dingaling is missing? That you are making pea and ham soup but forgot to buy the ham? That you have a television but lost the remote control?

Um...

what the heck. At least the blog is being utilized today, and who knows, one day when I am really, really famous, somebody will be sorry they missed my famous tomes.

I really hate these phone calls from India at dinner time. They try to sell me all sorts of things. Holiday resort packages. Cheap holidays if I change electricity provider. Make my current cell phone redundant. Casino deals.

I usually hate their calls and do the Seinfeld thing. I ask them for their phone number and I'll ring them back at my convenience. They hang up.

The latest opinion poll was for what men want. Guess. How did you guess so quickly?

Yes. They want beautiful women with big breasts. They like beautiful women with big breasts and an open pleasant personality. They like beautiful women who want plenty of sex. For this a poll was wasted? For this some academic has written a Ph.d?

But I can do an opinion poll and save money on what women want.

George Clooney and a very large bank account. You see? It works both ways. And if Clooney isn't available then the large bank account will do. So? Okay! I'm not fussy!!!

Freedom of Speech.

We are on the very verge of losing it. This current government are hard at work to curb free speech. If it isn't in their favor they don't like it. Of course nobody likes adverse comments on their achievements or lack of them. And political bias has always existed. But as they say, "I don't agree but I will defend your right to say it".

At the moment there are steps underway by the Greens Party to hold an enquiry into what their leader considers to be adverse commentary on his party's policies. The Greens have formed an alliance with another party and gained power far beyond the mandate or lack of it by Australia's citizens.

I shudder when I think of the precedent set during WWII by Hitler. We saw the results of that.

We need to be vigilant. Drop your political beliefs. The right to say what you think, right or wrong is much more important.

What will they think of next...

Shopped supermarket on the internet. Registration is terrible. Eg. on the address they asked if it's business or residence... a little dot let's them know.

Then later they ask me what the House Nickname is... huh? Zara's little house on the prairie? Lady Penney's Palace?

I had to ring. It kept on getting rejected.

Oh that's simple ma'am. You just say if it's house or residence.

But you already asked me that...

Who am I to question some nerd designer with a ponytail and drives a porche...

So guess what... the bleedin' bloomin' unobvious worked and...

next morning I unpacked my goodies in the luxury of my kitchen without having to bust a gut hawking the stuff up the front steps...

a writer could get used to this.

Go the F***k to Sleep...

The book arrived yesterday. Author Adam Mansbach. It's clever and looks like a children's picture book. Nicely illustratored by Ricardo Cortes. Dangerous in a household of kids reading picture books. I hate censorship, but...

As a writer and illustrator of children's book I object to this book looking like what it isn't. Here's an example of some text:

The wind whispers soft through the grass, hon.
The field mice, they make not a peep.
It's been thirty-eight minutes already.
Jesus Christ, what the fu*k? Go to sleep.

I'm not a prude. It's a great book. Just a little bit dangerous for kid control in a household with real kids in it.

That's all folks. Nuf said.