So, it occurred to me the other day that I've been in the wrong headspace for a while now. I've been so focused on one thing: getting my book published, that I've neglected perfecting my actual writing ability. It's reasonably possible I'm not actually developing myself at all a this point, which is dangerously juvenile.
I'm convinced now that this could be the instrument my destruction and prevent me from succeeding in a career I so desperately want to be in.
The last day or so I've been doing some research about being a writer in Australia. It seems there are many resources at my disposal even where I am. First off, groups, I used to not believe in that sort of thing, but it seems more and more like a helpful tool. And an inexpensive endeavor. Secondly, competitions. Now, amateur as it sounds, this had never even occurred to me. And this is exactly where I plan to start.
Short stories are so great. They give you a short target to achieve, help develop continuity between prose and dialogue (of which I often struggle), and limited space to tell a story that could otherwise drag for far too long. Among other things, that is.
All the competitions I'm going to strive to enter are centered on short stories. An achievable goal. I don't necessarily need to place, but if I at least get shortlisted or some level of criticism, it will improve my writing that much better. And help me land an agent or publisher recommendation.
And that, right there, is what it's all about.
Watch out 2012, I'm coming for you!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
16 July 2011
03 July 2011
Ipad Goodness
My husband and I recently bought a couple of iPads. About a week and a half ago, we bought a white 32gb. This was a problem initially because my husband wanted one in black and double the size. He mostly wanted it for travel purposes, and his next business trip was coming within 2 weeks. Knowing the market was tough in regards to getting a 2gen iPad, we bought it thinking it would be the end of it. Less than a week later, the store got in a few of the Black 64gb iPads. Insisting he should get a bigger one, he bought it and gave me his.
So now I'm making my first blog post through BlogPress. So far the functionality isn't as fluid as I assumed an Apple based program would be, but maybe with a bit of tweaking, I will be able to get it to work the way I'd like. I do reckon I may need to buy a multitasking app, though, to make it a little easier. but all in all, I'm quite impressed with my little tablet. It's smooth and sexy and so much fun! If only I could get a good blogger app that works like the newspaper programs of the Mac.
One thing at a time, I guess.
Until next time,
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
So now I'm making my first blog post through BlogPress. So far the functionality isn't as fluid as I assumed an Apple based program would be, but maybe with a bit of tweaking, I will be able to get it to work the way I'd like. I do reckon I may need to buy a multitasking app, though, to make it a little easier. but all in all, I'm quite impressed with my little tablet. It's smooth and sexy and so much fun! If only I could get a good blogger app that works like the newspaper programs of the Mac.
One thing at a time, I guess.
Until next time,
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
12 April 2011
Social Indifference
It became readily apparent to me today that I lack a certain level of indifference towards what others think of me. I came home today upset because I found out something throughout the course of the day. It seriously had wrecked my world, and after telling my husband about it, he casually said, "And?"
See, my dear significant other is of he mindset that what others think of you doesn't matter. As long as you're happy with you, and you know that at least one other is fine with you, then not much else matters. Obviously, because I'm married to the man, and he to me, it's clear that I shouldn't care one way or another how I come across to anybody else.
I suppose I see the reasoning in that. Okay, I do see it. However, living by that is quite a different story. It's been quite a long time since I had to deal with this, though. I had imagined that I was well and truly alright by this point. The last time I strove for the attention of another, I was still living on the other side of the world, and I was still caught in the same headspace that I had been while in high school.
Today, I found out for certain that one of the people I work with doesn't like me. We've had a strained relationship from time-to-time, because they're my boss and they can be a bit of a dick sometimes. But I've always overcome that, and I'm generally quite nice to the guy. I had assumed at certain points that he did have a problem with me, but I had no way of -really- knowing. Sure, he denied my one-time offer of a friend request on FB, over a year ago, but that could mean anything.
It was a silly way to find out too. Almost the way a high school student finds out someone doesn't like them. I was simply not invited to a party that he was trying to keep secret from me. Absolutely childish, if you ask me.
What's even more childish, though, was my reaction. I pretended I heard nothing of it. Despite hearing him do the "shhh" sound close after it was mentioned. And then the rest of the day, I felt rejected and deceived. My head went all over the place, "What's wrong with me? Why doesn't he like me? Who else doesn't like me?" And then started to realise so much more. Like how I hadn't been offered to do a girl's night out, or told about a going away dinner, or how not a single person actually talks to me on a daily basis outside of hello, etc.
And that upset me. It still does. But I can't do anything about it. It's not like I'm a witch to these people. I'm genuinely nice every day. I try and put on a brave face and smile every day, but it doesn't help at all.
And so that's where I'm at today. Unable to write in my book because I'm so unhappy about a stupid party. Go figure...
See, my dear significant other is of he mindset that what others think of you doesn't matter. As long as you're happy with you, and you know that at least one other is fine with you, then not much else matters. Obviously, because I'm married to the man, and he to me, it's clear that I shouldn't care one way or another how I come across to anybody else.
I suppose I see the reasoning in that. Okay, I do see it. However, living by that is quite a different story. It's been quite a long time since I had to deal with this, though. I had imagined that I was well and truly alright by this point. The last time I strove for the attention of another, I was still living on the other side of the world, and I was still caught in the same headspace that I had been while in high school.
Today, I found out for certain that one of the people I work with doesn't like me. We've had a strained relationship from time-to-time, because they're my boss and they can be a bit of a dick sometimes. But I've always overcome that, and I'm generally quite nice to the guy. I had assumed at certain points that he did have a problem with me, but I had no way of -really- knowing. Sure, he denied my one-time offer of a friend request on FB, over a year ago, but that could mean anything.
It was a silly way to find out too. Almost the way a high school student finds out someone doesn't like them. I was simply not invited to a party that he was trying to keep secret from me. Absolutely childish, if you ask me.
What's even more childish, though, was my reaction. I pretended I heard nothing of it. Despite hearing him do the "shhh" sound close after it was mentioned. And then the rest of the day, I felt rejected and deceived. My head went all over the place, "What's wrong with me? Why doesn't he like me? Who else doesn't like me?" And then started to realise so much more. Like how I hadn't been offered to do a girl's night out, or told about a going away dinner, or how not a single person actually talks to me on a daily basis outside of hello, etc.
And that upset me. It still does. But I can't do anything about it. It's not like I'm a witch to these people. I'm genuinely nice every day. I try and put on a brave face and smile every day, but it doesn't help at all.
And so that's where I'm at today. Unable to write in my book because I'm so unhappy about a stupid party. Go figure...
10 April 2011
bahhhh
Well, it seems Prince Caspian won this round of distractions causing inadequate amounts of writing. Who will win the next round?
Score 0(me) - 1(distractions)
Pfft.
Bedtime now. No, that's not a distraction. That's just a necessity.
Score 0(me) - 1(distractions)
Pfft.
Bedtime now. No, that's not a distraction. That's just a necessity.
Distractions
Over a year now on this blog, and I can count the number of posts on two hands. If I discounted one that is two sentences long, then it would be one hand. It was hopeless to think I would take it very seriously, but that in and of itself means I'm not taking my writing very seriously either. I suppose I never got used to the idea because I was far too distracted.
As I've pondered on it, I have come to the conclusion that almost every time I wrote on here, I also wrote on my book. There were indeed a few other times that I wrote outside of my blog, but for the most part, it went hand-in-hand.
And so, I have decided to start anew.
Distractions. A title. A single word that means only one thing. A diversion. Something that prevents a person from giving their full attention. I seem to do it every day. Whether it be to my husband when he's talking and I'm watching something, or when I set a task for myself that goes out of my head the moment another task is placed upon me.
The same goes in my writing life. It's so easy to blame distractions. Because they're there in every moment of your day. Even now the act of watching a movie seems to hold more of my attention than this simple post.
What's not so easy is removing said disruptions. So what's a girl to do, then? Well, for one, ignoring them altogether. Ideally, at least.
So here's to trying.
As I've pondered on it, I have come to the conclusion that almost every time I wrote on here, I also wrote on my book. There were indeed a few other times that I wrote outside of my blog, but for the most part, it went hand-in-hand.
And so, I have decided to start anew.
Distractions. A title. A single word that means only one thing. A diversion. Something that prevents a person from giving their full attention. I seem to do it every day. Whether it be to my husband when he's talking and I'm watching something, or when I set a task for myself that goes out of my head the moment another task is placed upon me.
The same goes in my writing life. It's so easy to blame distractions. Because they're there in every moment of your day. Even now the act of watching a movie seems to hold more of my attention than this simple post.
What's not so easy is removing said disruptions. So what's a girl to do, then? Well, for one, ignoring them altogether. Ideally, at least.
So here's to trying.
14 January 2011
Limited Coherence
Life is so hard sometimes. In the past ten years, my life has been uprooted 4 times. Some have been less painful than others, but it seems to happen to me nonetheless. Some have been out of my control and the others are not. I've spent my whole life trying to please others. I work tirelessly to achieve approval. And yet, I haven't learned a thing.
I spent the last day reflecting. It is a terrible thing, the memory. I've been strong for days now. But the act of reflecting brings up a lot of old demons that need to be slaughtered. This week, we lost just about everything we had in the biggest natural disaster Australia has ever seen, the Queensland Floods. We managed to salvage certain things, but not much. We don't even fill a room with the amount of things we saved. And as for the stuff that was left in the house, we still probably can only fill a room with them, if but only slightly.
We've been called rather selfish. My husband and I. Because of the things we did salvage. We managed to save all our gaming consoles, games, blurays and boxsets. Which will help our insurance considerably, since the cost of the lot is somewhere around 30k. But in our haste, and maybe in our own selfishness, we didn't manage to take much that was given to us. Especially by our family. And mostly from my husband's kids. In a crisis, people interpret your moves as what your heart feels. In all honesty, I think it's what your brain feels. You look at something like 13k worth of games, and think, "Well, that's more money that what the TV is worth, that should be saved." As it goes, insurance is only going to cover so much. And because of that, we opted to go with that sort of stuff.
But here I am, again, trying to make excuses for our shortsightedness. My husband got gifts from the kids that we simply didn't take with us. And at the end of the day, when the kids returned to the house to see those items destroyed and still in the house, and the games gone. Immediately it says, "We don't care about you."
It's a painful thing to come to grips with. We had some time to save more things, and we simply didn't. There's no real need to analyse it. Honestly, in the heat of the moment, no one is sure what they will do until they get to that point. And so, we left many things behind that we struggle even now to come to terms with.
Thinking back over the last few days, I realised something pretty big for myself. And it's this:
Sept 2001: My parents lost their home and I was forced to move in with my store manager at the time. Because time was limited, I chose the smart things to take with me. The stuff I thought I couldn't buy again. And as such, I left a lot of memorable things behind. There was limited space, and my parents only had a small storage shed to fill the rest of our things in. I tucked away a fair bit of stories that I'd written, and Mom left a lot of the stuff that I thought I might like when I got a place of my own. They stayed locked up in the storage place for over 4 years.
Dec 2003: After two years of being required to support my parents financially, I had had enough. I moved out. My parents had purchased a second storage unit in the same place that was full of things from my childhood. When I moved out, I took even less with me. Leaving behind a multitude of further memories with them. The storage unit got repossessed since I wasn't around to make the payment, and I lost even more. Including my stories...
May 2006: I moved to Australia. By this time, I was without the majority of my childhood or memorable things. A few clothes and such, but that was pretty much it. I had a ton of books I had collected, but none of them had any sentimental value. By this time, my heart had already been broken so many times, that I stopped caring altogether. I sold my books, movies, games. All of the things I couldn't take with me in two suitcases. And then. I moved. To the other side of the world. With no major worldly possessions, except for one thing... My flute.
Jan 2011: The floods. I salvaged my flute. It had been with me the longest. It was the only thing I was emotionally attached to that wasn't already on my ring finger. And I took a picture of my father. The only good one I had.
And there you have it.
Ten years now, and I've learned nothing. Every time something has happened in my life, the first thing I cut away is the memories. And to what end? All that is left is this empty shell. Sure, I have a flute. And it's been with me for going on 15 years now. But do I play it? No. Why do I feel the need to keep it?
Perhaps for the same reason Charles Foster Kane kept his sled. To hold onto something when I was still pure.
My life has been great since I moved to Australia. I don't want for much, and I've been so blessed with the people and things that have fallen right into place.
Yet, I feel sometimes, empty. My life has no meaning. I successfully do a job, come home, love my husband, and sleep. All the in-between is fairly meaningless. Gaming, watching movies. Ten years ago, I would have told you I was going to be a famous writer. Now I have all but given up on that dream. (Not saying I didn't keep all of my writings in three different locations just in case something happened to it in one or two places.) Ten years ago, though, by that same token, I would never have believed I'd be living in Australia, married to the most amazing man, and stepmother to two good kids.
Life takes you down paths. And every once in a while, the paths actually lead to a tunnel. The key is. You gotta actually follow that tunnel to the light.
And that's what I intend to do now. I have learned a few lessons this week.
Mostly, that my heart has been closed for far too long. Instead of accumulating things, I should have been accumulating memories. And instead of focusing on the bad, maybe I should focus on the good.
I might have lost my home, and almost all of my wordly possessions. But I still have my husband. I have my health. I even have some amazing family and friends. It's about time I start collecting memories instead of things. It's about time I fill that empty shell.
I spent the last day reflecting. It is a terrible thing, the memory. I've been strong for days now. But the act of reflecting brings up a lot of old demons that need to be slaughtered. This week, we lost just about everything we had in the biggest natural disaster Australia has ever seen, the Queensland Floods. We managed to salvage certain things, but not much. We don't even fill a room with the amount of things we saved. And as for the stuff that was left in the house, we still probably can only fill a room with them, if but only slightly.
We've been called rather selfish. My husband and I. Because of the things we did salvage. We managed to save all our gaming consoles, games, blurays and boxsets. Which will help our insurance considerably, since the cost of the lot is somewhere around 30k. But in our haste, and maybe in our own selfishness, we didn't manage to take much that was given to us. Especially by our family. And mostly from my husband's kids. In a crisis, people interpret your moves as what your heart feels. In all honesty, I think it's what your brain feels. You look at something like 13k worth of games, and think, "Well, that's more money that what the TV is worth, that should be saved." As it goes, insurance is only going to cover so much. And because of that, we opted to go with that sort of stuff.
But here I am, again, trying to make excuses for our shortsightedness. My husband got gifts from the kids that we simply didn't take with us. And at the end of the day, when the kids returned to the house to see those items destroyed and still in the house, and the games gone. Immediately it says, "We don't care about you."
It's a painful thing to come to grips with. We had some time to save more things, and we simply didn't. There's no real need to analyse it. Honestly, in the heat of the moment, no one is sure what they will do until they get to that point. And so, we left many things behind that we struggle even now to come to terms with.
Thinking back over the last few days, I realised something pretty big for myself. And it's this:
Sept 2001: My parents lost their home and I was forced to move in with my store manager at the time. Because time was limited, I chose the smart things to take with me. The stuff I thought I couldn't buy again. And as such, I left a lot of memorable things behind. There was limited space, and my parents only had a small storage shed to fill the rest of our things in. I tucked away a fair bit of stories that I'd written, and Mom left a lot of the stuff that I thought I might like when I got a place of my own. They stayed locked up in the storage place for over 4 years.
Dec 2003: After two years of being required to support my parents financially, I had had enough. I moved out. My parents had purchased a second storage unit in the same place that was full of things from my childhood. When I moved out, I took even less with me. Leaving behind a multitude of further memories with them. The storage unit got repossessed since I wasn't around to make the payment, and I lost even more. Including my stories...
May 2006: I moved to Australia. By this time, I was without the majority of my childhood or memorable things. A few clothes and such, but that was pretty much it. I had a ton of books I had collected, but none of them had any sentimental value. By this time, my heart had already been broken so many times, that I stopped caring altogether. I sold my books, movies, games. All of the things I couldn't take with me in two suitcases. And then. I moved. To the other side of the world. With no major worldly possessions, except for one thing... My flute.
Jan 2011: The floods. I salvaged my flute. It had been with me the longest. It was the only thing I was emotionally attached to that wasn't already on my ring finger. And I took a picture of my father. The only good one I had.
And there you have it.
Ten years now, and I've learned nothing. Every time something has happened in my life, the first thing I cut away is the memories. And to what end? All that is left is this empty shell. Sure, I have a flute. And it's been with me for going on 15 years now. But do I play it? No. Why do I feel the need to keep it?
Perhaps for the same reason Charles Foster Kane kept his sled. To hold onto something when I was still pure.
My life has been great since I moved to Australia. I don't want for much, and I've been so blessed with the people and things that have fallen right into place.
Yet, I feel sometimes, empty. My life has no meaning. I successfully do a job, come home, love my husband, and sleep. All the in-between is fairly meaningless. Gaming, watching movies. Ten years ago, I would have told you I was going to be a famous writer. Now I have all but given up on that dream. (Not saying I didn't keep all of my writings in three different locations just in case something happened to it in one or two places.) Ten years ago, though, by that same token, I would never have believed I'd be living in Australia, married to the most amazing man, and stepmother to two good kids.
Life takes you down paths. And every once in a while, the paths actually lead to a tunnel. The key is. You gotta actually follow that tunnel to the light.
And that's what I intend to do now. I have learned a few lessons this week.
Mostly, that my heart has been closed for far too long. Instead of accumulating things, I should have been accumulating memories. And instead of focusing on the bad, maybe I should focus on the good.
I might have lost my home, and almost all of my wordly possessions. But I still have my husband. I have my health. I even have some amazing family and friends. It's about time I start collecting memories instead of things. It's about time I fill that empty shell.
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