Writing

Blog-vember Sunday Confessional … Lies I tell myself

It’s Sunday. I have a few things to get off my chest!

Sunday essentials
Oceans of tea

It seemed right to share some of my secrets in a cathartic Sunday session for Blog-vember. I will need to pull every stunt in the blogger’s tool box to make it through this month of posts. Here goes (no laughing please!)

Lies I tell myself – just a random sample

1. I need all the more glassware

2. I will have two alcohol free days a week

3. I will put away my clothes and not live out of the washing basket

4. I won’t try to re-hydrate at 10pm on the weekends

5. I will learn to use all the features of wordpress before I cherry pick and launch into stuff before I know what I am doing!

To celebrate the release, the warm sunny Sunday, a musical treat. Deborah Conway embodying how we should all live out our Sundays with joy. Staying in with coffee, toast and chocolate! Amen to that.

Got anything you need to get off your chest?

There’s your Sunday Blog-vember post!

Blog-vember post the third … what sort of story is this?

#breakfastattiffanysdare

On Friday, I wore a little black dress all day. I didn’t wear pearls round my neck but I did wear them in my ears.  I was dared by @foxinflats. I find her hard to resist. I did her red lipstick dare too. I wore red lipstick all day, every day for a week! The little black dress dare was called #breakfastattiffanys It was great. I had a lovely day, worked hard and when I got home, I spent a glorious evening watching the movie. Read More

Gin, how I love you, let me count the ways…

I don’t remember my first sip of gin. There is, however, a crystal clear memory of my favourite gin drinking moment and the beginning of my love affair with distilled botanicals in a spirit base.

I was 21. The mother of my then boyfriend took me to lunch for my birthday. I was about the start my Honours year. We went to a restaurant on the North Shore of Sydney. It was just the two of us and it was rather a treat. I was, at the time, a starving student and so lunch out was a luxury. Liz ordered two gin and tonics.

I was sort of momentarily shocked. In the daytime?

It was glorious. Read More

It’s Blog-vember! Post the first

On the way back from Melbourne, I gazed out the window mouching quietly about having missed seeing some fantastic people. There were just too few hours and I really needed a time machine to make it all work. I even missed out on drinking gin in The Gin Palace; that really really hurt. The trip was too short, the family commitments too long to make it work.

I started on a bit of a reverie then. I’m missing people, I’m missing writing, and I’m missing NaNoWriMo!

I tossed ideas around. What if I could do something else? How could I make this work? How could I write and keep the little smouldering embers of love of writing burning? I certainly couldn’t write 1667 words a day! But I could blog every day. I workshopped ideas. What to call it? Blog-a-rama? NoNoNaNoWriMo? Blog-vember? Yes that says it all. It’s November. It’s blogging.

I wrote the post and sent this little idea out into the ether and who should show up?

Only the gorgeous people I missed in Melbourne!  I may have let out a little squeal of delight at the first response.

Here we all are. Drum roll please.

Blog-vember! A little idea to keep my writing spirits up and share the love.

Here are just a few of the people playing along.

Under The Yardarm

Twitchy Corner

Segovia

Join us. You can still play and catch up and keep your writing spark. A post a day. Every day for November. Blog-vember!

 

 

 

Blog-vember or NoNoNaNoWriMo

No No NaNoWriMo for me. I have come to a sad realisation that I cannot participate in NaNoWriMo this year. As much as this decision pains me, it is the right one for this year. I just cannot commit the necessary time and my experience last year taught me exactly what that commitment looks like. Of course, I am not willing to give up altogether. Too easy to do that.

 

Instead of NaNoWriMo this year, I give you Blog-vember!

A blog post every day for the month of November. At least that way I have a target and a writing goal. Feel free to leave pull-your-socks-up comments if I start writing about what I had for lunch – unless of course the lunch was at Tetsuya’s then you’ll just have to suffer through a blow by blow description.

For added interest, I will also give myself the end of November as the deadline for my long overdue book reviews that I keep promising and failing to deliver.

Join me! If you are NaNo-ing then go you. But if you are not join me for Blog-vember.

A post a day for November. Who’s in?

A hole is to dig

Sometimes you don’t know what you want, you don’t know what things are for and you certainly don’t know what you are actually doing. I have been in this place. I’d been working and writing, with some mothering on the side, but none of it was going well, except the mothering, that was pretty good. I wasn’t working at full capacity and I’d convinced myself that it was freeing me up to write. Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t writing at all. My heart wasn’t in it. I hadn’t felt like it. Such a cop-out. It is a disciple after all. It is a calling after all. It had called me, and I had turned my face into the wind, to drown the calling shout.

The philosophical view of this could be that my purpose wasn’t clear. There was a lack of clarity about what I was becoming. There are many philosophers for whom this is an entire life’s work and writing. There are many people for whom this never becomes clear. For me, I wasn’t sure it wasn’t clear. I thought I knew. I was entirely wrong. As a philosopher, and after a month’s reflection, I now know this isn’t good enough. I can’t halfheartedly do anything.

A hole is to dig

Buttons are to keep people warm

Children are to love

A book is to look at

Ruth Krauss’s work A hole is to dig with Maurice Sendak’s beautiful illustration has stayed deep inside my mind since childhood. It is sub-titled ‘A First Book of Definitions’. From a philosophical point of view, this beguiling children’s book provides a breathtakingly simple and elegant example of what are called ‘artifacts’ and their functions. ‘A hole is to dig’, ‘a face is for making faces’. What something is for, what it is good for, is sufficient to explain what it is. This is, a rather computational, rational and logic based sort of philosophy. However, this little book is the perfect example of the theory of ‘artifacts’, or things are defined by their function. I have been unable to shake the fragment ‘a hole is to dig’. It has been rising to the surface of my mind almost daily.

It has caused me to wonder over and over, what am I for? What is my purpose? What am I doing?

I had found myself boxed in. Unable to see how my own thinking was limiting me. This is the great value of philosophy, and of children’s books, whether written by philosophers or not, they show you what you are. They also show you that your own nature can be concealed from yourself, but only for a little while.

Hands are to hold

A hand is to hold up when you want your turn

I am in danger of dislocating my shoulder my arm is so far up.

All references in italics from,  A hole is to dig, Ruth Krauss – words and Maurice Sendak – pictures, 1952. You can buy a copy for the child within who needs reminding of what holes are for here:

booktopia.com.au - Australia's #1 online bookstore

On the sick list: where too much snot is barely enough

We’ve been on the sick list this week. It’s been a joyous week of coughing, sneezing, snot, tissues and chasing a two year old around waving a vial of medicine he won’t take. It is about as much fun as it sounds. Actually, it’s not. It is totally and utterly like beating your own head against a brick wall, while a two year old shows you his bottom, which as we all know, is lovely when it stops.
We have had an ok run since the last lot of childcare bugs descended. I, myself, managed to remain unscathed through the plague of April. But I felt this one coming for me from a long way off. So, so tired, and then down like a bag of spuds.

There was one tiny piece of joy in all this gloom and snot. I managed to start Foal’s Bread by Gillian Mears, I am about to finish it and then write to a review for Australian Women Writers Challenge.

Farewell then, on a pollyanna sort of note. My silver lining was an excellent book.

 

There are no accidents

I don’t believe in fate, in destiny, but I do believe there are no accidents.

This week there were a lot of blog posts written about the troubles in blogworld. Posts about the jealously and the waves of hatred emanating from strangers, hiding behind their laptops. Other posts approached this question from an appreciation of the work that goes into blogging. How hard writing is. Read More

Filled with wrath

I have spent the past few days full of anger. Literally, brimming over with wrath.

It is not directed toward anyone. There is no smiting of enemies to be done. I have been furious in a way I haven’t felt for a while.

It started on Monday night. I watched 4 Corners. It was about people smuggling. It was about people having their loved ones taken away from them, about men, women and children dying, it was about criminals robbing people of their futures and all their money. At one point during this story, it became apparent that one of these smugglers had sought asylum in Australia, and was detained. During the detention, this person continued to conduct his business. Then suddenly Robert said, I bet they end up in Canberra. I couldn’t believe my ears. What do you mean? I asked him. He explained that all the behaviours added up to amazing audacity and the most audacious place you could end up after entering the country in this manner, was the National Capital, seat of power, and place where the policies and legislation were made.

Read More

National Novel Writing Month #nanowrimo

Update!

It is now two hours until NaNoWriMo starts!

I am bursting with excitement and nervous energy. Tomorrow I will be sitting drinking coffee and writing like demons are pursuing me across plains of lava; in other words as fast as humanly possible to get a great start.

I have an arc of a story. It has characters. Love interests (yes plural – holy crap!) It has locations and I can actually smell it now.

Wish me luck.

This much neglected blog will now become further neglected and I am sorry to my handful of loyal readers for that, but a larger cause and a bigger quest is at hand.

 

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It is nearly November. In fact there are fifteen days and counting left of October.

This year this means one important thing. National Novel Writing Month.

I have started my preparation. If you can call staring into the middle distance and hoping a story arc whacks you over the head, preparation.

This year I have themes. This year I will start on the first day. This year I will write every day. This year I have some characters.

All of these little preparations are a big improvement on last year. Last year I didn’t start until the first week was almost over. I had no characters. I did not write every day. And I only wrote a pathetic 3260 words.

I have high hopes this time. I am better prepared. I have a child who reliably sleeps through the night. I have a day off a week. I have a couple of story ideas. I’ve made some notes.

I am participating in this grand writing collective frenzy for one reason; to test myself. To see if I can do it. To see if I have enough story writing in me to write something sustained.  50 000 words. It is a tough ask. It is 1 667 words a day. Each and every day for a month.

We shall see. In the meantime, I will continue to hope for a story arc or a brilliant idea. I have still got a few days.

Dragonflies with magic steel wings

By popular demand, here is the latest installment from my writerly nephew.

He has recovered his mojo after the last battle with the definition of ‘narrative‘.

Thanks to everyone who commented and buoyed the boy!

When is a narrative, not a narrative?

My nephew Patrick is nine. He is in year 3. He is my first nephew. Needless to say, I love him to bits. Today I heard some news about his school work that made me furious.

This lovely, conscientious boy recently wrote a story for homework. It was rejected by his teacher. Why? It was rejected because it was considered not to have met the requirement for narrative. The NSW Education K to 6 syllabus definition of narrative that is. Read More