spring-cleaning treasures

 journal, pre-crash  4 Responses »
Dec 312005
 

The spring-cleaning continues. My aunt had palpitations when she saw all the books I was giving away, and so it was decided that she'd take the books (and one of my bookcases, seeing as I was planning on buying a new one anyway). So after days spent getting the place organised and everything neatly shelved, I achieved Zen neatness for a total of, oh, three hours? I now have a different stack of books taking up the floor: books un-homed by my relinquishing the old bookcase before I've purchased the new one. The theory is that it will stop me procrastinating in the search for new shelves. Let's hope it works.

The thing about spring-cleaning is that you discover treasures. Like this picture of my great-grandmother (my mother's father's mother), tucked into a copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin:


Clarisse Alma McFeeters (1902 – 1985)

She's about 12 years old in this picture (I think), and I inherited from her a habit of running my fingers continually through my hair when thinking. (Drives my grandfather, her son, quite mad whenever he catches me doing it.) Isn't she a stunning creature?

Another treasure I discovered was photos of my mother as a youngster. Not terribly new, of course, I've probably seen them before, but this time the conversation around the photos brought out something I hadn't known. Turns out my mother was a beauty queen! At the age of (well, we're not sure, actually; 15? 16?) she was Miss Islington. (This would be Islington of Adelaide.) My aunt claims to have a photo of Mum on the day of the pageant1, but in the meantime you can see photos of her the day after the pageant in the Miss Islington album.

  1. Not sure whether we're talking about the pageant which saw her crowned Miss Islington, or the pageant which saw her compete as Miss Islington for the crown of Miss Adelaide [↩]
 Posted by at 7:34 pm

discipline

 journal, pre-crash  Comments Off
Dec 302005
 

Paul Guyot on discipline, the importance of routine, and professionalism:

Whatever your work/school schedule is, you MUST make a writing schedule. You have to do it the same time every day for the same amount of time every day. If you want to increase your odds of succeeding, that is. Maybe you don't. That's fine. Order me a vanilla latte while you're sitting there.

It's that thing I've said here before – decide where you want to be in your career, then act like you're already there. Meaning, you want to be a professional writer. Then act like one – be disciplined; write every day on the same schedule… like a professional writer. See?

Sit in front of that keyboard or legal pad every day for the same amount of time every day. At first it will be tough to get anything on paper. There might even be some days when almost nothing gets on the paper. But it's like working out – when you first start, it sucks. But then your body and mind get used to it. You get into a kind of groove and much sooner than you think, you will be writing more and BETTER.

So, for 2006, make a commitment to yourself to start acting like the person you want to be – an employed writer. Get disciplined, get on a schedule, and stick to it. Write at the same time every day for the same amount of time every day. I would suggest NO LESS than 4 hours a day. More if you can handle it.

[Link via Maura's Splinister]

 Posted by at 6:47 pm

random catch-up. i can't promise coherence.

 journal  2 Responses »
Dec 292005
 

Have survived the onslaught of the family Christmas visit, even though it involved singing (aloud. in front of other people. sober.), days and days and days of eating, extended and new family, scads of small children, and watching romantic comedies. Well, technically only one romantic comedy. But all romantic comedies — good, bad or indifferent; those I like and those I find painful — always make me very, very angry.

Car decided that, in retribution for sitting unloved on the street while I recuperated from the whole tooth thing, it would drain the battery again. I am now quite adept at removing and charging and replacing the battery. I have done it so often now that there is no longer any grease on my hands when I'm finished. The task became a little trickier today when the last remaining spanner in the house mysteriously disappeared, of course, but that's how you meet new neighbours.

The last week has been spring-cleaning. (Any mutters that I started the spring-cleaning to avoid family interaction will be ruthlessly quashed.) Mostly old files and notes, which I'm sure were never vital to my wellbeing but I clearly thought otherwise. Honestly, who needs ten-year-old phone bills? Or my handwritten subject notes from Uni? Seriously. In moving my to-read stack, discovered a framed poster of Prague that I'd vaguely been wondering about, which makes me happy. Also now have room in the wardrobe to put things, so am also happy to see the floor again.

In keeping with my spring-cleaning vendetta, I even updated the site today to the new version of WordPress. (This is not as laggardly as I make it sound. The new version was only released a day or so ago. C'mon.) Which is to say, if you find any weirdness, please do tell. I think I caught it all, but…

Finally, am unspeakably jealous of Justine's new exploding hair author photo.

 Posted by at 9:02 pm

difflam is my new best friend

 journal  3 Responses »
Dec 232005
 

The problem with dresses (or even skirts), for me, is that whenever I dare to wear one, I spend the entire time expecting someone to jump out from behind the nearest suitable hiding place crying, "A-ha! Gotcha! What we have here, ladies and gentleman, is a fraud!" (That, and I really don't like my knees. But that's a lesser problem, because skirts and dresses can still hide knees.)

No, I don't understand the inner workings of my brain, either. I never claimed to be rational, you know.

The reason this is a problem, of course, is that an Australian summer is very often too hot for the wearing of jeans. Doesn't matter how skimpy your singlet-top might be. Thus, I am left with a dilemma of wearing jeans and, at some point during family festivities dropping of heat exhaustion, or wearing a dress and spending the day nervously looking for lurkers in hidden corners.

It is entirely possible that the diatribe above was inspired by dental pain.

In other cat-waxing fun, there's a database which will analyse your mug and tell you which celebrity you resemble: MyHeritage.com Face Recognition. I ran one of the wedding photos through it, and scored Greta Garbo (66%), Alyson Hannigan (66%), Ava Gardner (60%), Audrey Tautou (59%), Viven Leigh (56%). (The list went on, but the percentages start getting too close to 50% and really, can a 50% resemblance be significant? Given that nobody has ever said to me, gee, you really look like Greta Garbo, I'm fairly tempted to say even a 66% resemblance isn't significant. But if significance was valued more than fun or procrastination, we would all be meme-less, so who am I to argue?)

And now, if you'll excuse me, it's Christmas. I'm planning on a couple of them this year, myself. Back when it's done.

 Posted by at 9:32 am

the land of the toothless

 journal  Comments Off
Dec 192005
 

Wisdom teeth successfully removed, sans complications. Face did not swell. Anaesthetist actually believed me when I told him that anaesthetics make me sick, and prescribed some anti-nausea drugs. Hallelujah!

Unhappily, it is an immutable law that as soon as you are forbidden chewable food you will desire pizza and tough bready products like a slavering maniac. Also, codeine is a really good painkiller, but very drowsy-making (yeah, okay, so all drugs make me drowsy; but codeine even makes normal people sleepy) and not particularly gentle on the stomach. Blech.

I have spent the last couple of days becoming very badly addicted to BeJeweled 2.

Excuse me while I sleep some more.

 Posted by at 9:35 am

pre-meds make me cranky

 journal  2 Responses »
Dec 152005
 

In which medication reveals our heroine's true nature: suspicious, anti-social, and slightly irritable.

Anaesthetist, pushing a slug of cold medication up my arm: This should make you feel pleasantly sleepy right away.
Me: Yeah. Feeling dreamy in a dizzy way now.
Anaesthetist: That's good—
Me, interrupting: I don't like it.
Doctor and Anaesthetist, laughing: Enjoy it. Pre-meds are fun.
Me: No. You're blurring at the edges, both of you. Stop it! Now!

Going to sleep for a day or so now.

 Posted by at 7:18 pm

does lugging gifts count as exercise?

 journal  6 Responses »
Dec 122005
 

After a morning spent buying Christmas presents, I have discovered one very important fact: my Doc Marten boots (which I bought, oh, I think in February) are broken in. Sometime between wearing them last week and wearing them today: perfect. I do have a sore heel, I'll admit, but that was a sock issue. Never wear anklet-disappearing socks in boots. In fact, never wear anklet-disappearing socks at all, if you're me, because all they do is disappear down the back of my heel. Useless things.

I successfully found presents for all family members, in less than 2 hours. Sometimes I astonish even myself. (Although I did have a run-in with an old gentleman who said, in a very angry tones, "You look beautiful too, miss!" as I walked past. I'm still a touch confused as to the precise source of his anger. Perhaps he thought I was staring at him? Although, given that I was rescuing said disappearing sock from the back of my boot and looking down, I really can't credit that.) I also bought myself a gift: a tiny little imitation-zen-garden water fountain, complete with pebbles (8). It's buzzing happily on my desk now. It's a piece of junk, really, but I am very happy with it nonetheless. I wanted the miniature zen garden as well, which comes with tray, sand, candles (shaped like pebbles), pebbles and sand rake; but I figured I'd never use it.

Blogging may disappear entirely later this week (or it may ramp up to ridiculous levels), because I am having my wisdom teeth removed. Yeouch. Thank you, but I don't need to hear any horror stories about the pain, oh dear lord, the pain. I have already warned my family that I will spend my recuperating time weeping and moaning, in order to fully milk the situation, but they assure me that they can leave the house without guilt and, you know, out of sight out of mind. There's a reason I love my family.

 Posted by at 6:35 pm

jittery timeline

 journal  Comments Off
Dec 112005
 

So, in watching Firefly the other day, one of the episodes involved a lot of flashback, and flashback to varying depths. The narrative starts out towards the end of the story, and uses flashback to explain the immediate past; but it also flashes back much farther, to the "distant" past. More nostalgic stuff, like how the crew met, that sort of thing. And, since I have a story (my week six clarion story) which played with narrative timeline a little, I decided to pay a little closer attention to how they were achieving the flashback without confusing me.

Some of the tricks were visual, which I can't mimic directly on paper: the deep flashbacks were shot in a filter, so everything had this glorious golden/green tinge and was very soft-focus. The current timeline featured a character alone and wounded on an abandoned ship, and was full of blue and black colours. Easy to pick apart the immediate past from the current timeline by the presence or absence of the other characters.

Another trick, though, was using objects to link the closing of the current timeline with the opening of the flashback scene. A character opens a door in one timeline, then suddenly we switch POV to find all the characters rushing through the opened door in the other timeline.

I remember Scott talking about this kind of trick at little, at Clarion. He was suggesting I write my week six story in reverse chronological order, and recommended a script (Betrayal, I think it was) which did precisely that. Of course, being the obviously-prompt student I am, I have yet to look this up. (Yeah, I know, it's next on the list.) I may be misremembering, but I think he mentioned there was always something, a tiny motif or object, which linked the closing scene to the upcoming scene.

Which leaves me curious now as to why this helps ground the reader. It's a thread, I suppose, and gives the meatpuppet mind something familiar to hold on to. (Silly meatpuppet mind.) Maybe the trick is picking an object that's central to the emotional tension of the moment?

Musing, musing.

 Posted by at 10:21 am

between the lines

 journal  2 Responses »
Dec 102005
 

A few weeks ago, the book Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King was recommended to me. I put it on my amazon wish list and promptly forgot about it, purchasing not being high on the priorities at the moment.

Yesterday, via Randall Ingermanson's Advanced Writing E-Zine, I learnt that Renni Browne is affiliated with The Editorial Department, which has just started a new e-zine called Between the Lines. There's a teaser of the November issue up on the site.

Who am I to argue with synchronicity?

 Posted by at 9:18 am
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