Cat on corner desk

These canine companions & the resident feline are witnesses to the lack of writing I have done today. I am ashamed to say I have spent the afternoon refamiliarising myself with the camera, and how to transfer pictures from it to my facebook page and here. So here is proof though that there is a rather large (70cms tall at shoulder so far & he is only 9 mths old) companion at this desk, as well as a portly sleepy one, and attentive border collie along with a very elderly sleepy feline & of course a cup of coffee.

In awe of John Kerry

I spent this afternoon watching The Long War of John Kerry and thoroughly enjoyed it. I know "enjoy" is not synonymous with war but it is the man I am most in awe of. At 27 years old John returned from Vietnam & decided that he was not going to just sit back grateful he made it out alive, but instead empowered so many seriously wounded men (physically & emotionally) to send a clear anti-war message to the Nixon administration. And to have what little strength left after witnessing the tragedies of war, to protest against sustaining the war was just amazing. I have not doubt that it was what John & his fellow veterans did that actually helped give some meaning to many veterans who returned home to what seemed like a wall of disassociation. What a shame John missed out on the Presidency by so few votes. Bush, rather than Kerry, the latter having received recognition for saving the lives of some of his fellow troops. Then having to be put under a microscope of suspicion by the Nixon administration, and have the so-called counterfoil employed to tarnish the good work John was doing to help the veterans find their voice to call for the end of the war.

I recall when my father returned from Vietnam there was no flag waving, or thank you's. Instead we (children) were subjected to nasty little comments from teachers who really knew nothing of what or why our fathers were in Vietnam, along the lines that our fathers travelled overseas to meet people & kill them. I just hope that teachers of this era are more diplomatic about their views when in the presence of children whose parents may now be in Afghanistan, East Timor, and the likes.

Wandering off the track

I have recently discovered the joy of podcasts. It occurred to me that this magnificent invention has to be right up there with the wheel, X-ray machine, refrigerator, and of course the standard size computer. I have been listening to all sorts of interviews, mainly from the United Kingdom, involving authors, poets, politicians, historians, and of course not dissimilar to the latter - comedians. I listen while driving to and from work, the iPod graciously loaned to me by femme teen as she has moved on to another type with far more storage space (haven't got the handle on the correct terminology yet). At the time she out grew this, I thought to myself that it was a waste of money buying another, then of course I would presume - another, because where one becomes unpopular or out-of-date another must take its place. But I get why teen needed the larger one - and quite frankly I can also see why one of my favourite authors & social commentators is so passionate about gadgets. A couple of times a week I have plug the iPod in to the computer and recharge it, and of course refresh the podcasts I subscribe to, mostly BBC, but also some from various other places. If I were to have a gadget that had more memory I could save lots more, and not have to delete the ones I have listened to several times. I could archive them so to speak, like books on a shelf, and go back to them at a later date.

So while roaming the shelves of the itunes catalogue - I am not writing. It is worse than getting carried away on a web surf - I start tasting a little bit of this, then a little bit of that, and dart off to another recommended site or blog and by the time I have come to my senses, I lost two hours of my life and nothing written. The wee bit of time left for writing I spend tweaking the chapter I have sat in front of for months.

Its NaNoWriMo and I have done zilch, zero, zip. I have however deleted a truck load of emails which have been automatically sent by all of those enthusiasts who are diligently writing and following the programme.

I, on the other hand have been:

• attending quilting workshop


• sewing homework from Q workshop


• reclaiming gardens from winter/spring weed infestation


• attending puppy training classes with 8month old "Archie" the huntaway


• doing puppy training homework


• shopping, cooking, cleaning for family


• attending Zumba class (had first one this week)


• doing 45 minutes on treadmill every second night


• trying to fit first passion of life in - that's reading of course


• going to work

Meanwhile, there is the forebodance of the end of year celebrations and of course as does naturally occur, the end of the year. And how much have I written? I have to toughen up and get on with it. Otherwise another year goes by, Im a year older, and if I don't get the thing (it's become "the thing") finished it will haunt me every time I pick up someone elses book. Even if I write something that is only fit to line Archie's bed with I would be happy.

Nothing will happen much next week because I have 'Zumba' Monday (the music & dance reminds me of the heady days of the late 70's early 80's, Gloria Estefan, Miami Sound Machine, and the timeless Santana). While I may be the oldest there, well maybe not quite, it will help keep the arthritus at bay. Then its off to Wellington for three days for work, and catch up with a lovely friend who I met while travelling around Europe - another bibliophile. We intend to visit Unity Books shop, and take in the Te Papa Museum Photography exhibition.

Going back to the arthritus, I am still perplexed that I went to an eye specialist to deal with a lump on the eyeball, and given some good news and some bad news. The good news is that the lump was treatable with some steroid drops, the bad news is that the lump will more than likely return, the good news is that unless it gets nasty like it's predecessor, there's no reason for it not to disappear of its own accord. The bad news is that the blood tests taken as part of the diagnosis for the eye revealed rheumatoid arthritus.

Now how bizarre, but not shockingly surprising because I have felt a noticeable stiffening in the fingers - but to go to get an eye problem checked only to find out about arthritus. My thoughts turned to getting serious about exercise and losing some of the extra weight (yup, if I was baggage being checked in I would have to leave behind quite a bit as unchecked luggage) to ease the difficulties I might face in the future with movement. For some reason the arthritus was enough motivation to get me using the treadmill every other day, and the Zumba to help with the other joints. Apparently, instead of stopping knitting sewing etc i should try to keep it up on a regular basis to keep the finger joints moving but its not that easy [comfort wise] because my employment revolves around drafing sometimes lengthy letters and reports, so the fingers get quite uncomfortable.

Anyway, the arthritus is another reason for getting the writing down in the near future in case there comes a time where doing what I have been sat here doing for nearly an hour, gets too difficult.

I have also made a commitment to not taking any further books out of the library until I get through some of my own. I purchased a box full at the last Red Cross Book Fair and they deserve some acknowledgment, so I have started on Jostein Gaarder's book The Solitaire Mystery. I have read Sophies World and it was superb, and frankly the author is quite a picture too.

Well thats all for tonight. I still have some reading to do.

So grateful it is Friday

What an exhausting extra long work day. Thank goodness it is Friday. Anyway I was checking out one of my favourite bibliophile blogs to see if she had updated anything recently (You Can Never Have Too Many Books) at http://susanflynn.blogspot.com and in the depths of her last post she has a link to another bibliophile who also linked off to the Fashion section of the NYTimes where there is an article that states that burying noses in books is "somewhat isolating" absolute darn right - but this fashion columnist seems to think that its wrong - and that the ebook is going to encourage readers in public to be more interactive - who in the heck wants to interact when their reading, thats why they are reading!! otherwise they would be talking. What is sad is that the ebook is supposedly going to be some kind of fashion accessory - the only reason I can think of why it is in the fashion section. Anyway, too many late nights this week and I have a quilting workshop to attend in the morning.

Seasons in the writing process

Writing is a lonely pastime - with most activities there is a coach or team cheering the participant on but with writing its just the writer and the inner critic. An internal editor has its place in our life, it helps prevent us from making prat of ourselves, it acts like sand in polishing the surface of a rough stone. But it can also be the bane of a writers life, whether it be writing for pleasure, education, or work - allow it too much lee-way and the writing becomes like a plane overloaded with cargo, it just cant get off the runway.

My editor is on 24 hours because I draft technical reports, memos, and letters, for a living. Even my telephone conversations are guarded, because I am acutely aware of the diplomacy required in my role. So unfortunately by the time I get home, the editor remands on guard, and I struggle to get words that I have typed or written, to stay on the paper or screen. I can end up editing the same pages for days, even months.

I was reading over at Notdesignedtojuggle.wordpress and picked up a link to http://www.andyshacks.com/ about a nifty trick that helps to bypass the critic. The method involves acknowledging the internal critic's dilemma with a phrase or sentence even, by flagging it for ponderance at a later time, and then moving on with the creative flow. So in essence, Andy's advice suggests parking the problem phrase, sentence scene, and signalling like so with he hash key #. I cant work out how to put a link in here so any reader wanting to read in his masters words will have to go over to Andy's pages and read the advice for themself.

The Chilean miners have surfaced, and big celebrations are abound. The strength and courage shown by all of them is remarkable, and the relief the families must be feeling will be overwelming. Its timely for me to remember a couple of the many things I am grateful for:

*Living in the country in fresh air
*Living and working in a reasonably healthy space
*The late Allen Carr, and his book The Easy Way to Stop Smoking (5 mths)
*Human capacity for ingenuity (without which the miners may still be below ground)
*Companionship of hubby
*Having read Desiderata - thank you Max Ehrmann

National Novel Writing Month

Noting that my last entry was nearly a month ago, I feel a bit silly recording that I've signed up for NanoWrMo but what the heck. Its lonely in them there hills (well at the little corner desk) and this is the only writing company I'm going to get. So come 1 November 2010 its clackety clack and away.

I cant work out how to get the official badge on my blog, so I'm just plastering here. Hopefully the badge has some kind of special power or hypnotic effect that will get me past page two of the novel.

Weekend Dispondency

The lack of words in my world of fiction is hanging over me, much like the grey clouds outside. Work has been so busy that by the time I get home I am too mentally shattered to write. My creativity has been poured into the drafting I do for a living. Plans to do some "me time" writing flew out the door. I slept in yesterday, made a much needed call to my sister in England, then headed out to the Pirongia Craft fair. While the fair might seem a frivolous waste of time compared to writing, hubby has been as busy at work as I, so we decided we needed to shake off the pressure and get away from home & work (I had seriously contemplated going into the office again to make a dent in the work for next week but decided against it).

The Pirongia fair has been a regular calendar event for some years, and much talked about within the town. It's a pleasant drive to Pirongia, and it is a lovely wee village. Well the weather did not let us down, it remained the same as it has been for the last couple of weeks, wet. But it did not deter us, I had my new trusty oilskin coat & hubby had his thermals on under his coat so we strolled around for a couple of h0urs taking in all the different stalls. We stopped for tea on the front lawn of some kind mature ladies who have regularly put on high tea for the event - we must have a looked rediculous seated under the sun umbrella wrapped up in wet weather gear sipping tea and nibbling cake, but it was good tonic for the way things have been so hectic of late.

Im thinking of taking up the writing challenge in the Nanonovember thingy, even though Ive also signed up for a quilting course. I took some relief reading somewhere that there are quite a few authors who did not complete their novels until into their 60's so someone late 40's is a spring chicken.

Celebrating diversity

I was going to rage about narrow mindness, fanatical intolerance etc, after becoming aware of some pratt in the USA who felt it their duty to carry out a despicable offensive act of which could have horrendous reverberations across the globe, and worse still perports to be a Christian, pot kettle black is what springs to mind, but it is late at night & there is enough negative energy in the world as it is. So instead, I thought it was a good time to celebrate diversity.

I was listening to Sea sick Steve this afternoon, my latest CD acquisition, and marvelling over how after a whole album I did'nt get bored listening to his lyrics and voice, both of which seemed to be quite unique in each song. It made for a nice Sunday afternoon, never mind the rain, I had good sounds, good company (hubby was listening too), and a good book.

I just joined Litopia Writers' Colony, requiring a description of myself, my likes, my aspirations, and it occured to me that I am extremely grateful for the eclectic taste in books, music, food, just about everything, that I have been gifted. I enjoy all sorts of sounds, although I have a wee aversion to "pop" stuff, mainly the stuff churned out that sounds all the same, more video candy than a work of art, but opera, classical music, blues, jazz, country, country rock, spiritual, even some of the stuff the teens are listening to, I rejuvenated my love of Big Band, thanks to Harry Conick Jnr, so Glen Miller was on the turntable a while ago, and a quick trip down nostalgia with Vera Lyn, and a few of the mid & post WWII sounds.

My collection of books is the same, across all the genre's. I just finished reading about Vita Sackville-West, her marriage, then on to a book about Sissinghurst by her grandson Andrew. While the gardens Vita & Harold created are a source of pride for the family, and survive as a result of the National Trust, there was a lot of emotional pain passed down through the Nicolson/Sackville-West family, and its astounding that Andrew appears to have either escaped (through the love of his wife and children, and his siblings) the residue of that, or has been healed from it one way or another.

Like families, countries can carry the emotional scars of the past, and the question is when is it time to bury the past, leave it behind, and move on to live the life deserved, free of all the animosity and fear. It is like living with a permanent stain in their psyche - no matter how they try to leave it behind, someone somewhere around the world is going to constantly draw attention to it, reignite it, use it to get themselves or their views in the headlines, - the ego.

Going back to the Sackville-West/Nicolson family, I kept wondering who was looking after the children while Vita disappeared off to visit girlfriends, lovers, etc. As a mother myself, I know there is no just packing up and taking off for a few days/weeks/months, it just doesnt happen, parenting is a partnership, and the most important role a person is going to have in life. So who was looking after Nigel & Ben? I'm not naive, I know that it was time when nanny's did the bulk of parenting, and parents tended to not be hands-on. But what a disaster, reading Andrew's account of his father, Nigel, was very sad. Had Vita & Harold been like Andrew & his wife, Nigel would have been touch with who he was, and then a better responsive parent. Andrew seems to have put to rest the ghosts of the colourful lives his grandparents lived, especially when it was published for the world to then pick over while he was quite young.

Theres that saying about what doesnt kill us, makes us stronger - well Andrew must be quite a rock. There are so many different stories from around the world told about family, what family was, and what it has become. I suppose if we look at the world from that perspective, see each country as a member of the greater world family, and whenever one country falls out with another, its just sibling interaction - but why is it that someone has to be "right" and by default the other "wrong", or "accepted" and "unaccepted". Looks like we are still a long way from the melting pot that Joni Mitchell once sung about.

Things I'm grateful for today:

A sleep in

Libraries

Food for dinner

Clean Water

Open mind

How many books is too many books

Workwise it has been one of the busiest months I have experienced for nearly a decade. With more time inside now that tobacco is out of my life for good (seriously this time), I have returned to the crossword, and increased the book uptake. The crossword is a wander through the park really, it isn't a huge challenge by any means, I'm not talking cryptic crossword (though I would love to learn how to do these, being an avid fan of Inspector Morse - Colin Dextor's Oxford criminologist), so I've approached some poetry for a change, (amoungst the many other books on the go).

I'm going to show my ignorance here, in that poetry to me, has been a bit elusive. Poetry is a bit like the rubik cube, some people seem to simply 'get it', then there is people like myself that grasp rhyme, then get lost when we hit the lengthy stuff.

I was reading Susan Flynn's blog "You can never have too many books" and she has journeyed down the poetry path as well, though her profile suggests that the path is a familiar one for her, more a reaquantance than a new experience. She too cited Dr Seuss as lighting her love for rhythm & rhyme, and as soon as I read her blog for 26/8/10 it took me back to when I initially stumbled, then became more confident with reading, and loved Seuss's stories. Sometime after my teens poetry and I parted, briefly returning in my late 20's sporadically, owing mainly to my love of Horace Rumpole of the Bailey, John Mortimer's invention of a crusty defence lawyer. Horace was for ever breaking out in poetry recitation, mainly Wordsworth, but I loved it - and envied him having poetry at his disposal like a comforting blanket.

And so it was that I made off to the 2010 Red Cross Book Sale, and contributed a fair share of our income to the cause. I came away with at least another dozen books, several of which are of poetry, to help with the renewed vigour in trying to make sense of it. I have always like Rudyard Kipling, so he came home with me, and Faber Popular Reciter collated by Kingsley Amis, which has some real old fashioned gems, that even a newbie like me recognised. All for practically nothing.

There are now stacks of new (well pre-loved) books waiting for me to run a cursory eye over before they are put on the shelf. I would hazard a guess that the book count is now exceedingly high. But I'm not good at culling my books, they are my friends, I go to them whenever I'm feeling low, high, or in-between, they are like friends that offer me comfort, and nurture me through rough times. The man of the house doesnt bond to this degree with his books, and tends to have an annual spring clean, donating the unwanted books to Red Cross, or Lion, Rotary whichever is calling for donations. I can't bring myself to give any of my books away. However, on Saturday I did buy a Colin Dexter which I thought at the time looked very familiar, and found when I got home I now own two of the same book - a dilemma not faced before. So I am pleased to say I have a book to donate next year - an extra Dexter (maybe I am a budding poet after all).

Things I am grateful for this month:

My supportive work colleagues.

The man of the house for cooking when Ive been too tired.

The same man of the house for doing the housework while I worked on Saturdays.

Having employment, when so many don't.

Books that transport my mind to places I have neither the time nor the funds to take me there.

Life intervenes

No writing has occurred, lots of reading and watching rugby in between housework, gardening etc. It's the et cetera that gobbles up the time leaving little tangible evidence. A bit like electricity, it cant be seen but we have complete faith it is there when we flick a switch. So I need to be more mindful, take in what I'm doing which spring-boards nicely to one of the several books I am reading - The Happiness Trap - Stop Struggling, Start Living by Dr Russ Harris (I'm also reading a book by Anne Fine but that's another story hehehe).

Essentially Dr Harris offers an alternative to falling victim (psychologically speaking) to the endless chatter that fills our mind which can be quite destructive if left unchecked - not much different to an unsupervised toddler. We have all heard the 'judge', 'jury', critic, victim, type stories that rush through our minds. Good news is that our thoughts are just words/symbols flitting through our mind, and as long as we realise this and keep reminding ourselves of this, then we might have a better chance at surviving the barrage of negative stuff these words can throw at us - so rather than be at the whim of some crazy angry woman (at worse, on a bad day in the life of a menopausal moment) I can choose to thank the mind for the 'story' because that is all thoughts really are, and in doing this the thoughts are 'diffused', rather than reverberate they just ripple a bit.

Were I reading this book only, I would be through it faster, but I'm a word/book glutton so I don't have a complete overview of the therapy yet. So far though, I like what I have read of the six core principles of 'ACT' (Acceptance & Commitment Therapy) which help a person to "a) effectively handle painful thoughts and feelings, and b) t0 create a rich, full and meaningful life...". I already have a rich, full and meaningful life, I'm just too busy sometimes to enjoy it.

Hence, no writing.

Television mimics life

Corney it may seem, themes running through two of my favourite programs on UK Television, Lark Rise to Candleford & Cranford have spookily being reflecting my thoughts over the last month. Change, progress, loss, and regret. Yep, midlife contemplation. In the wee village of Candleford there has been change afoot, an established somewhat late blooming female resident leaves the business she ran with her elder sister, to meet and likely marry a stranger they have corresponded with, and a young gentleman moves into town bringing with him his views and opinions of the world in the form of his trade - journalism, and all the good & evil that goes with it. Likewise, Cranford have been strongly opposed to the coming of railway to their area, but seeing younger towns folk leave for employment in other towns, makes the elders rethink their bias against modernity. Their resistance crumbles after a number of key neysayers take a ride on a steam train, and are bitten so to speak by the train bug. The speed at which they can travel between points excites them, the resemblance to the flight-like experienc, moving faster than a horse etc.

I am not ashamed to say that hearing the pearls of wisdom from the characters of these shows about how they contemplated the changes, and the agents of change, along with the things they felt they had to give up, and reasons for this -were all comforting. For people like myself, who grew up knowing what a party-line was, knowing that debate with our elders was considered disrespectful, and used an adding machine with a gianormous roll of tape as a calculator, and used carbon paper before photocopiers, scanners, computers became commonplace - these two villages have given some comfort in knowing that it is not all bad, but we still need to be circumspect in choosing from the myriad of changes we are faced with - and yes there is a choice.

My keys are flying

I have out done myself today. Word count for Half Socnov is 3,996. Only 1,004 and I have a chapter if I was aiming for 17 chapters, 5,000 words per chapter and I have nearly cleared my first 5,000. Snaps for me. And, yes theres more, I have been very restrained with the editing. My other accomplishment is that I've been 'turning up each day'. Because Im in a challenge I have to turn up, tap out, and I dont want to retreat by deleting any work so I just keep going (with the mantra "its just a draft, its just a draft"). Previous attempts at getting beyond a page have been flawed because subconsciously I think I have held an expectatgion that something close to perfection should be produced, without acknowledging that this just does not happen, for anyone. Its draft draft draft. No story has been written in one sitting fully structured, and not requiring some form of redraft and/or editing. It's also been interesting that while I have been tweaking and typing, my story has taken form from the 'panster' approach, but I have a gut feeling that once I have a bit more, I will then revert to the outlining. This is because the story is revealing a bit more of itself as I type, and my confusion is being teased out, hopefully enough soon that I will have a skeleton to flesh out.

Half challenge progress

Ive hit 2183 words. I dont know what Im doing. Its a huge battle to keep the internal critic quiet, just repeating to myself that this is only draft. Also trying to keep visits to other blogs to a minimum, it eats too much of my time away. One little browse and the next thing an hour has gone by. I know I could have done lots more, and Im disappointed with myself having taken two days of work to have a nice long weekend but my other roles in life come first. I think I read that on someone else's blog that they dont apologise for making their role as mother/partner etc a priority. It will be all too soon before my role as mother will be minimal, so I might as well make the most of it. I cant write when I know Im needed elsewhere. Just takes so much time to 'get in to the swing' then its time to pack it all up and cook or clean something or go and earn some money. Early days. Im doing the writing scene by scene, just writing what comes, and Ive stopped trying to put it in some sort of flowing order because that was jamming me up and getting confusing.

Writing Progress

Yippee, with some good advice from all over the blogisphere (mainly links from Kiwiwriters.org) I have achieved 920 words. The 50,000 words was a bit overwelming so I headed for the halfNoc of 25,000. Even though I know the characters are being introduced etc, it seems like nothing much is happening - 920 words of introducing main character, two secondary characters, and putting the circumstances on the map all the space of the main character sitting in a queue on the motorway. But I have checked out other authors 'Chapter One' and just sometimes there is nothing "happening". Ive started the story in the middle of an action, provided a bit of background to get the foundation set. Next I will move her off the motorway and on to some action. It might all get cut at draft II phase so what the heck. Im also resisting editing too much or (like previous attempts) I will never move forward.

Getting Started

I've signed up for the Southern Cross Novel Challenge (aka SoCNoC) over at Kiwiwriters to give me a reboot for the writing. I was in a daring mood & having read the fine print, thought "yes this is for me - the Everest of the writing world", then thought "maybe I should start small" & downgraded the quest to the HalfNoc (25,000 words in a month), given that I havent got past 2,000 previously. How to eat an elephant - one bite at a time.

So Ive read a few of the participants linked sites, read the 'how to' of the challenge, put the icon thingy on the blog, put the laundry on, the dryer on, had a couple of cups of coffee, stopped to watch BBC's Heartbeat (for research & ideas), phoned big sister in England, and so Im good to go. No more procrastination!! which I know a lot about having read Marilee Faber's blog 'notenoughwords'. If Im honest the last two hours have been about procrastination, including having to get the teen to turn the base down on the stereo out in the garage so it didnt reverberate through my bones 20 metres away in the house. I think some women would agree that getting the washing through the dryer etc is procrastination if you dont have a family needing dry clothes for school/work etc - but if I dont do it I feel like I can't settle in to what I want to really do. The bathroom cleaning & vacuming will wait for another time, maybe till the dust bunnies are so large a simple side-step wont be enough to get around them, when they are so large they block the doorways & windows & take on a life of their own, like something out of Doctor Who.

I'm too late to join Merilee's creativity workshop so I'm sticking to the HalfNoc and will hang for dear life on the guidance of some of the saged writers - some of who are half my age and sound so full of knowlege & experience of the whole writing thing. Ive not got to the 'certainty' stage which dogs me each time I set out to pen (key) the story. So here is what I am certain about:

Protagonist: Middle-aged female
POV: Third person
Setting: City servicing rural region

I have read books which must number in the thousands, yet when it gets down to writing or analysing fiction writing, so much is taken for granted by the reader -especially one who wants to write. So I'm reading a new purchase called Make a Scene (Jordan E Rosenfeld) because I need to distinguish the scenes, learn structure. This follows on from my pawing over 20 Master Plots and how to build them (Ronald B. Tobias) which was helpful but without someone to discuss my 'idea' with, Im not quite sure whether I am writing a 'discovery' plot, or 'tranformation' plot, or 'underdog' plot, so there you go - while they were fascinating reads, I dont know enough about my story to be able to label it one of these. What I do know is that it's really like the very english "village" or "community" type books like Helen Simonsen's or Joanna Trollope, or even Miss Read stories because these are what I enjoy reading, a nice vacation from the real world, with a bit of steel & humour along the way. Anyway Ive got more reading to do to get some homework done before 1/6/2010. So Im off to KiwiWriters.org again. Thank heavens its raining so Im stuck inside!!

Small good stuff

A gittery kind of day today. Not the "I'm brimming with enthusiasm" or "muse in overdrive" type of day. More like the gitters from far too much coffee thrown in with a restless night of broken sleep - not that either of these occured but I still recall them from my days of being a working mother with a baby. I'm restless from writing rubbish, and feeling disorganised. Days of it. Getting pretty desperate now, and its flowing into the daytime job, there's a low growling not too far from my lips when Ive let my mind wander off to 'plot, character, conflict, plot is character, character can deliver plot...on and on' and all the other advice from those who have managed to get past chapter one. The short of it is that Ive been looking for a big blinding flash, or even a small tremble, to organise my thoughts, have some scenes slot in around each other, and found neither. Characters names have changed, situation changes, plot changes, its all been on unstable ground. Maybe someone needs to die? Killing darlings is all well and good when they are in abundance but I killed so many over the last couple of nights, I may have entered into the realm of poetry by default because little is left of my chapter. Anyway, feeling sorry for myself and the hidden author within, I went on a virtual cruise and found the Kiwiwriters, from where I found Professor David Morley, at the Warwick AC UK. While poetry is a mood thing for me, and I know little about it other than what I know I like, (definitely not writing) his posts and pictures are so thought provoking, and calming, and have had a very calming influence - well they just do the trick for laying to rest the gitters. The podcasts for writing are a Godsend. So, having listened to the "beginnings" podcast, Im going to do the 'homework' and see what I come up with. On the weather front - we are down to 18 degrees, and it is so nice to have the cooler nights to sleep through. And if we are lucky we will get rain over the next couple of days -because hopefully we will not have to get the water truck out again.

Just a quick note

My very first note, and Ive got to dash away and watch New Tricks (UK Tv). But at least this is a start. Ive made a start on the writing, several in fact. Its like boxing with fog, it keeps morphing and I havent got past the first chapter - which now I think isnt enough of what should really be there. Just read a couple of handy tips on a romance writer's webpage - not that I could ever write romance, but like she said, a lot of common ground goes between all genres. Well, until next time.