I'm describing the weather, but it could very well be the writing process on some days. Sometimes you feel so optimistic but end up getting your knickers in a knot and worked up over some perceived blockage.
But I tend also to see problems like this as a kind of brain rage. You've done something to your character which might be out of character and embarking on a 'fork in the road' where you just get bogged and need your road service to come out and refill the tank with logic.
Our little writing group is growing. We are getting some interesting characters and with that the inspiration and motivation, hopefully will be fuelled on a daily basis. We had it before in our former group, and I do miss them all so much...
But new group, new hope, new friends, more nouns and verbs, bigger adjectives and a closer date with creative destiny, ie.,
FAME, FORTUNE, A PENTHOUSE ON FIFTH AVENUE (sigh).
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Hugging heaters, Barking Dogs, and Playful Verbs
Rough trots are not very nice. My computer problems set me on a path to a new computer. I'm not good with new computers. It's like walking down the aisle with a complete stranger. I'm supposed to feel comfy with this new little monster in my life and immediately start interacting with ease.
Instead I fainted. What an awful feeling, waking up and finding yourself in a heap. Stress. Just everything piling itself one on top of the other. Normally I can handle it. But this one just culminated in a heap. Banged my hand. Damaged a ring. Bruised, battered and befuddled.
It's cold. I'm hugging the heater tightly. Competing with dog. I get the heater when she's outside barking up the neighbors. So annoying because unless I beat her, my only other option is to join her. And at times my bark is worse than my bite.
Playful verbs. I just made that up. I suppose they are friendly verbs. You have to be in a good mood to have them. Yesterday they were, shopping, eating, laughing.
Today they are aren't all that nice. Today they're all about getting used to this new keyboard. Today they are taking out rubbish to the bin. Today they are looking for my Kindle.
Oh... must tell you about a new find and buy. (Good verbs, well done!)
As you may or may not know, I love Jane Austen. And you may or may not know Borders in Oz is having awful difficulties (I suspect Amazon is the major contributor) and closing down most outlets bar, one or two. So with bargains galore in closing store I was able to purchase a book titled THE CONFESSION OF FITZWILLIAM DARCY - Mary Street. Fully recommended. Follows the novel from his POV very very well.
Normally I hate this type of infringement on the integrity of an author's work, but it works well. She has been faithful to the intentions of the author, and hasn't tried trickery. I enjoyed it so much, I hope it takes it's own little place in history. Obviously Street loves Austen too and didn't want to stretch the friendship.
This has been the coldest Australian month of May in 41 years. I won't tell you that I'm a climate skeptic. I won't remind you that a few decades ago we were told of a coming ice age. I do believe in changing climate. But we've had it since the beginning of time if there is such a thing.
Didn't Galileo strike problems by defying the conventions of opinion of his time?
Instead I fainted. What an awful feeling, waking up and finding yourself in a heap. Stress. Just everything piling itself one on top of the other. Normally I can handle it. But this one just culminated in a heap. Banged my hand. Damaged a ring. Bruised, battered and befuddled.
It's cold. I'm hugging the heater tightly. Competing with dog. I get the heater when she's outside barking up the neighbors. So annoying because unless I beat her, my only other option is to join her. And at times my bark is worse than my bite.
Playful verbs. I just made that up. I suppose they are friendly verbs. You have to be in a good mood to have them. Yesterday they were, shopping, eating, laughing.
Today they are aren't all that nice. Today they're all about getting used to this new keyboard. Today they are taking out rubbish to the bin. Today they are looking for my Kindle.
Oh... must tell you about a new find and buy. (Good verbs, well done!)
As you may or may not know, I love Jane Austen. And you may or may not know Borders in Oz is having awful difficulties (I suspect Amazon is the major contributor) and closing down most outlets bar, one or two. So with bargains galore in closing store I was able to purchase a book titled THE CONFESSION OF FITZWILLIAM DARCY - Mary Street. Fully recommended. Follows the novel from his POV very very well.
Normally I hate this type of infringement on the integrity of an author's work, but it works well. She has been faithful to the intentions of the author, and hasn't tried trickery. I enjoyed it so much, I hope it takes it's own little place in history. Obviously Street loves Austen too and didn't want to stretch the friendship.
This has been the coldest Australian month of May in 41 years. I won't tell you that I'm a climate skeptic. I won't remind you that a few decades ago we were told of a coming ice age. I do believe in changing climate. But we've had it since the beginning of time if there is such a thing.
Didn't Galileo strike problems by defying the conventions of opinion of his time?
Friday, November 12, 2010
Tomorrow I'm down south for a writers conference.
Probably a bit under my level since I'm already a published author, but they are very invigorating and I know,
No matter how long
You have been in the publishing world
There is always something
You can learn
And the minute you forget this
Forget publishing.
No matter how long
You have been in the publishing world
There is always something
You can learn
And the minute you forget this
Forget publishing.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
A quandary of jinxes
I'm a superstitious character. Don't like it. I don't, for example, walk under ladders. But that's quite sensible. And if I don't know it exists, such as looking through glass at a full moon - well then I happily live in blissful ignorance.
Some omens are just plain unfair. For example, the neighbor's cat sits on the gate post. If I come out of the house with the dog on the leash then the cat hops down, runs in front of me and wallah! That's supposed to be a bad omen.
Not quite sure what bad omens can do. Like bad things happen - is that the result of a bad omen? Like, my husband left me? Did the cart come before the horse. He left because of a bad omen. Or did he create a bad omen? Was he the bad omen?
And if the vacuum cleaner is giving problems. Is it a bad vacuum cleaner. Is there a problem because of my neighbour's cat?
But then I also have my own in-built superstitions. They pop up in my head quite suddenly and they really are quite annoying. Like if I send a manuscript, do I tell people? If I tell them does that jinx it. But if I don't tell them will that also jinx me? I then get confused and in a quandary of jinxes.
Some omens are just plain unfair. For example, the neighbor's cat sits on the gate post. If I come out of the house with the dog on the leash then the cat hops down, runs in front of me and wallah! That's supposed to be a bad omen.
Not quite sure what bad omens can do. Like bad things happen - is that the result of a bad omen? Like, my husband left me? Did the cart come before the horse. He left because of a bad omen. Or did he create a bad omen? Was he the bad omen?
And if the vacuum cleaner is giving problems. Is it a bad vacuum cleaner. Is there a problem because of my neighbour's cat?
But then I also have my own in-built superstitions. They pop up in my head quite suddenly and they really are quite annoying. Like if I send a manuscript, do I tell people? If I tell them does that jinx it. But if I don't tell them will that also jinx me? I then get confused and in a quandary of jinxes.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Writing as an Adventure - or - Be In It To Win It
Writing as an Adventure - or - Be In It To Win It
Somebody once said to me- "Oh I always meant to write when I retire."
Given the age of retirement is 65 here (recently I think, moved to 67 or something like that) that's a long time to wait to start writing. And while there are many people who don't get published until they might be that age, their motivation to write will have been with them all their lives and they should have spent many long nights writing before or after working all day in the office.
In other words a writer is born that way.
So I nod politely when people say this type of thing because they think because I can do it, anyone can. Either I look stupid, or... ah... I look stupid, full stop.
Writing is an adventure. It is painful. It is fun. It hurts. It can be triumphant. There are good times. There are bad. There are.
Advice to beginners, middlers and patient always have written hopefuls is just don't think - do. Don't plan. Just do. Don't sit down and try to plot the whole story like you were planning an overseas trip. Don't use precision and don't procrastinate. Just sit and do.
Some tips would be to carry a notebook with you at all times. You never remember good ideas. Good ideas are spontaneous little devils and like to play catch me while you can. Cheat them. Just tell them "later" and sneak it into your notebook while they're not looking.
Lucky you if you are technologically savvy. One of my writing group I am totally envious of. She puts them into her cell phone.
Another tip. Have a plot board. One of those cork jobs you can move around, throw in frustration or whatever. But pin things on it relating to a broad aim. I just tear up sheets of A4 and I can rearrange the chapters, ideas, etc. at will. This includes basic facts such as names, relationships etc.
Personally I don't do that, but some people like to answer quizzes about their characters, their aims, well... whatever it takes to motivate you, help you, grab it with both hands - every mickle makes a muckle.
Don't let people discourage you. My mother once said "oh that's just a silly romance" - "absolute rubbish". I also write and illustrate children's books and she was proud of them, but didn't realise that just because she wasn't a romantic soul, doesn't mean I needn't be one. You will probably think what sort of awful parent I have but my father once said to me "what makes you think you are so special as to anticipate you can convince somebody to like this rubbish?" again referring to my romance. Well. Given that he hadn't even read it makes it nonsense. But I don't let them discourage me because my sister once described the sort of books my father like to read then would pass them onto my mother and sister to read. She was most scathing herself. Consequently I learned to keep my own counsel as far as my parents were concerned.
Another tip. Love your characters. People don't like to read a whole book full of some nasty little nark nobody could love. You have to give them somebody to barrack for. I hope you don't hate your baseball, or footy team. Don't know about you, but Greg Norman and the old Tige got a vote of unpopularity from me because of their ego trips, leaving normal moral values hanging on the fence, forgotten.
Biggest, most important tip? Keep writing. Persevere. Thomas the Tank Engine. "I can do it. I know I can do it."
Edit, edit and edit. Make sure that what you publish will never be shamefully hidden away when you are famous. That's a bit like Marilyn Monroe's little nudie calendar done in a moment she needed some cash and haunting her once she hit the big time.
Not every day will shine for you. Good days and bad days happen. But in a way, they are good for you. Good days make you want to dance. Bad days make you (a) try harder and (b)realise what a good day you had yesterday and (c) anti ego.
Okay, enough. I'm off to write. Where are you going?
Somebody once said to me- "Oh I always meant to write when I retire."
Given the age of retirement is 65 here (recently I think, moved to 67 or something like that) that's a long time to wait to start writing. And while there are many people who don't get published until they might be that age, their motivation to write will have been with them all their lives and they should have spent many long nights writing before or after working all day in the office.
In other words a writer is born that way.
So I nod politely when people say this type of thing because they think because I can do it, anyone can. Either I look stupid, or... ah... I look stupid, full stop.
Writing is an adventure. It is painful. It is fun. It hurts. It can be triumphant. There are good times. There are bad. There are.
Advice to beginners, middlers and patient always have written hopefuls is just don't think - do. Don't plan. Just do. Don't sit down and try to plot the whole story like you were planning an overseas trip. Don't use precision and don't procrastinate. Just sit and do.
Some tips would be to carry a notebook with you at all times. You never remember good ideas. Good ideas are spontaneous little devils and like to play catch me while you can. Cheat them. Just tell them "later" and sneak it into your notebook while they're not looking.
Lucky you if you are technologically savvy. One of my writing group I am totally envious of. She puts them into her cell phone.
Another tip. Have a plot board. One of those cork jobs you can move around, throw in frustration or whatever. But pin things on it relating to a broad aim. I just tear up sheets of A4 and I can rearrange the chapters, ideas, etc. at will. This includes basic facts such as names, relationships etc.
Personally I don't do that, but some people like to answer quizzes about their characters, their aims, well... whatever it takes to motivate you, help you, grab it with both hands - every mickle makes a muckle.
Don't let people discourage you. My mother once said "oh that's just a silly romance" - "absolute rubbish". I also write and illustrate children's books and she was proud of them, but didn't realise that just because she wasn't a romantic soul, doesn't mean I needn't be one. You will probably think what sort of awful parent I have but my father once said to me "what makes you think you are so special as to anticipate you can convince somebody to like this rubbish?" again referring to my romance. Well. Given that he hadn't even read it makes it nonsense. But I don't let them discourage me because my sister once described the sort of books my father like to read then would pass them onto my mother and sister to read. She was most scathing herself. Consequently I learned to keep my own counsel as far as my parents were concerned.
Another tip. Love your characters. People don't like to read a whole book full of some nasty little nark nobody could love. You have to give them somebody to barrack for. I hope you don't hate your baseball, or footy team. Don't know about you, but Greg Norman and the old Tige got a vote of unpopularity from me because of their ego trips, leaving normal moral values hanging on the fence, forgotten.
Biggest, most important tip? Keep writing. Persevere. Thomas the Tank Engine. "I can do it. I know I can do it."
Edit, edit and edit. Make sure that what you publish will never be shamefully hidden away when you are famous. That's a bit like Marilyn Monroe's little nudie calendar done in a moment she needed some cash and haunting her once she hit the big time.
Not every day will shine for you. Good days and bad days happen. But in a way, they are good for you. Good days make you want to dance. Bad days make you (a) try harder and (b)realise what a good day you had yesterday and (c) anti ego.
Okay, enough. I'm off to write. Where are you going?
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Well, it's done...
I met the deadline for two short stories. One of them was a regency. And once again I am charmed by it. And once again, I am talking like it because that is where my head has been whilst I wrote it.
And yet it has led me to contemplate what it is that charms me so much about it. In actual fact it is a period of stilted interraction between people. They did not say what they thought. There was a lot of double standards. The rich were rich and the poor very poor. Children swept chimneys. Women died in childbirth. There were no penicillin drugs to keep babies alive. And Jane Austen didn't have a typewriter.
Of course when I set a Regency, of course it is set in the posh side of town. If it isn't it's going to at least be a rags to riches kind of story because a riches to rags story doesn't cut to the tone.
But heck it does suit my kind of sense of humor. And I do love Jane Austen. And the vocabulary is very flowery.
I wonder were history to go backwards rather than forwards, and they would sit in judgement of us, would they be as fascinated by our way of doing things. Somehow I don't think so. Look at us...
Men don't vacate their bus seats, you can't scold a school kid for littering, they'd only swear at you. Rapes take place every day. Women get themselves tattooed with growing enthusiasm. Rudeness is rife. People have little regard for each other. They'd have to look at the Holocaust and shake their heads at the breakdown of humanity. They'd have to wonder what manner of man can walk into a community and blow himself up in order to seek the comfort of 75 virgins in heaven and to kill as many of his fellow creatures because they didn't agree with his opinion... need I go on...
But writing a regency is great fun.
Go to this site:
http://www.janeausten.ac.uk/manuscripts/blpers/28.html
And look at the wonders of modern technology if you love Jane Austen.
And yet it has led me to contemplate what it is that charms me so much about it. In actual fact it is a period of stilted interraction between people. They did not say what they thought. There was a lot of double standards. The rich were rich and the poor very poor. Children swept chimneys. Women died in childbirth. There were no penicillin drugs to keep babies alive. And Jane Austen didn't have a typewriter.
Of course when I set a Regency, of course it is set in the posh side of town. If it isn't it's going to at least be a rags to riches kind of story because a riches to rags story doesn't cut to the tone.
But heck it does suit my kind of sense of humor. And I do love Jane Austen. And the vocabulary is very flowery.
I wonder were history to go backwards rather than forwards, and they would sit in judgement of us, would they be as fascinated by our way of doing things. Somehow I don't think so. Look at us...
Men don't vacate their bus seats, you can't scold a school kid for littering, they'd only swear at you. Rapes take place every day. Women get themselves tattooed with growing enthusiasm. Rudeness is rife. People have little regard for each other. They'd have to look at the Holocaust and shake their heads at the breakdown of humanity. They'd have to wonder what manner of man can walk into a community and blow himself up in order to seek the comfort of 75 virgins in heaven and to kill as many of his fellow creatures because they didn't agree with his opinion... need I go on...
But writing a regency is great fun.
Go to this site:
http://www.janeausten.ac.uk/manuscripts/blpers/28.html
And look at the wonders of modern technology if you love Jane Austen.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
You gotta admire diligence.
Well, I've been very good. My last blog was at least in 1010.
Today I feel like a wet rag. Maybe rather, a wet dishcloth. There's something strange on in Sydney. It's called a 'footy final'. For me it means Sydney regains some sort of sanity, but for a lot of people it's some kind of rights passing.
People all over Sydney, with strangely painted faces gather - in the rain minus an umbrella to watch a bunch of muddied individuals fighting over a ball.
Why?
Why?
Well, I won't be there. I'd rather show my cellulite in an untouched photograph in Vogue.
There will be 85,000 people in a stadium.
And...
As we speak, the games in Delhi are about to start.
Maybe I'm just not tribalistic? Or patriotic? But sorry. Commonwealth Games? Who'd want to get Delhi Belly or Denghi Fever over this sorry bunch. The Commonwealth of Britain ceased to be a viable entity decades ago. Most of Europe is going under the weight of its illegal immigration and the current financial hardships. Africa is a cot case.
And all they'e got to look forward to is a group leader shot of Government heads of mostly corrupt dictators with the man who talks to plants sitting in the middle in a grey suit and looking totally out of place - as he is. (That's Prince Charles for anyone not in the Commonwealth.)
Hey Canada! Wanna bet? We win the 200 butterfly.
Today I feel like a wet rag. Maybe rather, a wet dishcloth. There's something strange on in Sydney. It's called a 'footy final'. For me it means Sydney regains some sort of sanity, but for a lot of people it's some kind of rights passing.
People all over Sydney, with strangely painted faces gather - in the rain minus an umbrella to watch a bunch of muddied individuals fighting over a ball.
Why?
Why?
Well, I won't be there. I'd rather show my cellulite in an untouched photograph in Vogue.
There will be 85,000 people in a stadium.
And...
As we speak, the games in Delhi are about to start.
Maybe I'm just not tribalistic? Or patriotic? But sorry. Commonwealth Games? Who'd want to get Delhi Belly or Denghi Fever over this sorry bunch. The Commonwealth of Britain ceased to be a viable entity decades ago. Most of Europe is going under the weight of its illegal immigration and the current financial hardships. Africa is a cot case.
And all they'e got to look forward to is a group leader shot of Government heads of mostly corrupt dictators with the man who talks to plants sitting in the middle in a grey suit and looking totally out of place - as he is. (That's Prince Charles for anyone not in the Commonwealth.)
Hey Canada! Wanna bet? We win the 200 butterfly.
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