From the Attic

Reading

2011-11-25T11:23:00.024+10:00

Just hearing the word “reading” makes my heart beat a little faster. The anticipation of a new book, the cover, the blurb, the first sentence, the opening scene, shocking revelations and discoveries, the ending, then wishing I hadn’t already read it so that I could discover it again.

One of the reasons I can’t wait for my upcoming holidays (aside from my love of all things Christmas) is the reading time. I’m hoping to get at least four books read over the two week break (I’m not being too ambitious here so anything above four books will be a bonus).

I’ve listed below the books that recently arrived on my doorstep (or electronically), some of which will jump the towering “to be read” queue and become Christmas/New Year reading—which includes some recently plugged friends’ books :)

And waiting to receive:

Okay, so I’ve already read a couple (while I was supposed to be editing), and will try not to read any more before I go on holidays—I’ve put myself on strict book ban and am resolved to doing nothing but editing until December 22.

Little Sparks & a Plug (or two)

2011-11-21T10:54:00.002+10:00

We were driving back from the coast yesterday when out of nowhere a little detail of a scene I’ve been working on in my novel came to me—just a flash of a piece of clothing in a scene and it went on from there and became fully formed in my head. It was something that hadn’t occurred to me but is actually very important to the scene (this has been happening a lot lately and is a part of the editing process that I really love). This detail has also led to a change in the next scene which will make that scene stronger as well. I hadn’t taken a notebook with me (shock horror!) and was madly scrambling around my partner’s car for a piece of paper and a pen that was luckily in the glove box. I don’t know about everyone else but sometimes I’ll have great ideas usually when I don’t have the means to write them down. Then I think surely I’ll remember them later because they’re so great, right. Right? No.

I had a great idea last week while I was driving home from work but do you think I could remember it by the time I got home? I still can’t remember it. I really need to take advantage of the voice recorder that will surely be in my mobile phone (just need to work out where it is in my fancy new phone).

Is there also anyone else out there who has ideas at night after they’ve turned out the lights, in those minutes (or longer) before they go to sleep? The lamp on my bedside table often gets flicked on and off several times as I reach for my notebook and jot down the basics of the idea (it’s best not to write in the dark—it makes for difficult deciphering the next day). I’ve fooled myself in the past that I’ll remember it in the morning and there’s no need to get up and write it down. Not anymore.

I have yesterday’s notes with me at work today and I’m going to work on the chapter in my lunch break and give it a good polishing.

Oh, and yesterday I also managed to squeeze in a little reading time :)

I’m going to give another plug to two books I recently purchased by blogger friends:

I’m reading Riot Boy by Katey Hawthorne at the moment, and I really wish life didn’t get in the way and make me have to put it down. I can’t wait to find out what happens next, and I really hope everything works out for them in the end.

Next to read will be Barbed Wire Hearts by Cate Gardner. The premise sounds fabulous and with Cate’s books you know you’re in for a hell of a ride.

A Publication Banquet

2011-11-17T15:43:00.005+10:00

First, I have to share some more fantastic news!

I’ve sold another story!

The Baited Psychopath will appear in the anthology “Whacked! An Anthology of Murder” with Rainstorm Press on a date yet to be advised. This is my second acceptance for the month, after a bit of a dry run, so I am happy dancing in a mad fashion.

Now, I want to share with you an upcoming publication by my friend and fellow Belle (my critique group is called Hells Belles) E E Montgomery. The release date is 23 November 2011 and the story, Between Love and Honor is a truly stunning and heartbreaking read. You won’t be disappointed with this tale of two men who struggle with forbidden love. You can check it out at Dreamspinner Press.

I also want to share with you a new publication by my blogger friend, Aaron Polson. In the Memory House is available to purchase from – Amazon, Amazon UK or Smashwords.

And last, but not least, another blogger buddy, KV Taylor, has a book coming out in the next few days. Scripped will be available for purchase from Smashwords or you can buy a hard copy from Bellfire Press.

Check out these three supremely talented people whose stories will blow your mind. I have my copies pre-ordered/organised and am looking forward to some seriously great reading.

A Monday Like All Others

2011-11-14T15:57:00.001+10:00

Some days at work my sense of humour disappears completely by around 11.00 am. It usually returns in my lunch break and then it invariably leaves again around 3.00 pm. It thankfully makes a return on the journey home.

I’ve learned to try and combat it now by thinking about the novel I’m working on. Instead of stewing on things I can’t change (i.e., annoying clients, irrational clients, abusive clients, and so on, and so on) I’ve recognised the slide into hostile territory and now take a step back and instead picture a scene in my novel. I am there with Ivy and her sisters and take a step through the house, through the gardens, imagine I am up the falls where Ivy’s sister was attacked. I listen for the sound of the water crashing into the pool at the base of the mountain—a scene of such beauty where a horrific act has been committed; I hear the birds in the trees of the woefully neglected gardens where broken stone angels dwell; I listen to the chilling silence inside their tomblike family home. I love the atmosphere I've created and I love inhabiting their world, walking alongside them and discovering more and more about their personalities each time I do.

I received two rejections this morning. That really kick started my day into hell, but I’ve bounced back, and one of the pieces rejected, a poem (incidentally, this is the first poem I’ve ever written and was inspired by my recently published flash fiction story, Alone) that I've just resubmitted elsewhere, so I fingers crossed it will see publication in the not too distant future.

And now, despite the sirens going past outside—a regular occurrence—and the car alarm that has been screeching for about ten minutes now, I’m going back to Indigo, to the family home where Ivy continues searching to try and uncover a dark family secret.

In Dreams

2011-11-11T15:22:00.001+10:00

I love dreams. I love waking up in the morning and remembering what I dreamt about, although sometimes I can’t remember, so I’m not sure whether I just don’t dream on those occasions or for some reason my memory refuses to provide me with the data.

The ones I remember though are a mixture of delight and frustration. First of all, any dream I can use in a story is great. These dreams are the best because they provide ideas thought up while I was sleeping—nothing like being able to do two things at once—and I love recording the oddities (because these dreams are rarely normal) and keeping the notes for future stories.

Some dreams are the ones where I’m lost or trapped in situations with people where I just don’t want to be. These are the frustrating dreams that leave me annoyed when I wake and of course stick with me longer than the others. I don’t use them in stories because they’re often unhappy memories or maybe just some of my deepest fears that I don’t care to visit through stories.

Then there are the amusing dreams where I start out with one person in a location and when I move to the next location, which has nothing at all to do with the first location, I’m with a different person—although there is never any explanation for the change in people or locations. These are, as I said, amusing dreams. Sometimes I know the places, sometimes I don’t.

The other night I dreamt I was walking home after having coffee with a friend. I had no shoes on and was really annoyed because I had to walk a long way and the road was covered with broken glass and debris and I had to walk slowly in order not to step in anything. I knew the way, had travelled it many times before, however, all of a sudden I turned a corner and there was my childhood home, looming in front of me, although not the home I had first thought I was headed to. Somehow I had fast forwarded through the walk without any effort or memory of it at all. An amusing dream.

Then there are the freaky dreams where I revisit an old dream. I once dreamt about a white house on the side of a river where a family of ghosts from my past lived. They had cool rope swings hanging over the river and a pool behind the house filled with Coca Cola. The only problem was that the sun never came out and I was constantly running into things because of the lack of light and the inability to find torches, candles or light switches. I’ve revisited this place in my dreams twice more over the years and both times I’ve woken, extremely excited that I’d actually returned to a fictional place in my dream.

Finally, there is the best dream I’ve had to date in relation to writing, and one which I think I’ve spoken about recently in a different blog post...I woke up one morning with the fully formed opening scene to the novel I’m currently working on. I was happy with the opening scene I’d already written, but this scene, which I decided to add as a prologue, was a huge part of something that I hadn’t yet realised—something that hugely affected a different tragedy that had befallen the sisters. That morning I wrote the prologue with the dream still fresh in my head as the dawning horror of what Ivy and her sisters had done became real on paper.

As I said, I love dreams. And as I write this, I know there are people out there who have far freakier dreams than I do. So if you feel like sharing...

November & a Sale!

2011-11-03T13:34:00.002+10:00

I was going to blog about what I did in October (editing, some reading, a road trip, a wedding (not mine—that is next year) birthday parties and some new ideas for short stories that I have noted down in my trusty notebook) and then yesterday I received some most excellent news—my short story The Broken Juggler will be published with The Red Penny Papers next year. I love this tale of weird and oddly tall sisters and I wrote it especially for The Red Penny Papers so I’m really excited that it’s been accepted.

Aside from happy dancing around the room (my happy dance is akin to a zombie doing the Hustle after drinking several litres of Red Bull, because I have absolutely no coordination) I’ll be spending November editing, and actually enjoying it—it’s taking a hell of a lot longer than I’d planned when I set my goals for the year, but I’ve accepted that and I’m working at a slow but steady pace.

Lastly, I’d like to point you to The Red Penny Papers to read the first instalment of The Sons of Chaos and the Desert Dead by Aaron Polson. It’s an intensely disturbing read and I’m sure that when you’ve finished you be waiting impatiently for the next instalment, just as I am.

October & a New Release!

2011-10-03T09:28:00.006+10:00

September was quite a productive month in that I managed not only to get some decent editing done, I also submitted another short story, received two rejections (I still have two others short listed so fingers crossed there), read six books, wrote a rough draft for a new short story and also wrote a draft for the Black Book (the book I’ve spoken about in other posts that is sort of a round robin writing project with my writer’s group).

Today is my last day at work before I start two weeks annual leave which I am so looking forward to—except that I have to visit the dentist tomorrow. The first day of my holidays—what was I thinking? I know it will go fast (the annual leave, not the trip to the dentist—that will be torturously slow) and I know I won’t get half as much done as I’ve got planned, but I’ll try to cram in as much as I can.

I have some good news to share too—my flash fiction story Alone has been released with Twisted Dreams Magazine. I love this piece, not only because the character I created intrigues me so much I want to write a novel length story about her, but because she inspired the first poem I’ve ever written—Grotesque which is currently submitted and awaiting an answer. Freddie is one of the most complex characters I’ve created but she leads the most simplistic life that I just want to throw something really horrific in her path to shake her up. Just need more time to write...

Getting on to some of the books I read last month—Cate Gardner’s Nowhere Hall, filled with wonderful bizarreness and sorrow, KV Taylor’s Tales from Liberty Tree, two beautifully crafted stories, and Cassidy Hunter’s First Night, an “against all odds” story with some very dark twists and turns. I’m currently working my way through The Ottoman Motel by a local author, Christopher Currie, and I’m absolutely loving it.

My plan for October—in keeping with my main writing goal for the year—is to have Misfortune (Ivy’s story) ready to send off to an agent by the end of the year. I am behind in this goal—so many distractions for this person with a short attention span—but I’m working towards it regardless. I have my list of agents ready and I’ll update that closer to the time.

Happy October all and enjoy the first month of spring or autumn, whichever hemisphere you’re in.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires My Writing

2011-09-27T08:54:00.003+10:00

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve blogged and even longer since Bob Dylan Tuesday. I have no excuse other than life getting in the way and allowing myself to get off track. I have been editing though so all was not lost and I have been making notes for the short stories that keeping popping into my head every so often. One that came to me the other day was because of today’s song.

I have The Wind Cries Mary by Jimi Hendrix in my playlist for the novel I’m currently editing (Misfortune). There is a scene out on the lake (Lake Superstition) where Ivy relives a traumatic moment from her past and this song is just so hauntingly perfect, especially the last lines:

Will the wind ever remember

The names it has blown in the past

And with his crutch, it’s old age, and it's wisdom

It whispers no, this will be the last

And the wind cries Mary

I play it over and over while I picture Ivy and Noah sitting in a skiff and she is shivering under the overcast sky as she tries to overcome her fear of the lake where her mother drowned when Ivy was only a child.

Then last week I was listening to it on my MP3 while I was driving to work and the threads of another short story came to me. A girl drowns in Lake Superstition (years after Ivy’s mother) and her ghost rises to try and guide her younger sister through the dangerous path that her life has taken. I’ll put it aside for now and continue with the editing but I know it will eat away at me and I’ll keep making small notes until eventually a first draft will form and I won’t be able to resist anymore and will start working on it. Ah, the undisciplined mind.

In the meantime, I’m editing. Oh, and planning a road trip.

September

2011-09-07T14:15:00.000+10:00

If the last few days are anything to go on, September is going to be one hell of a crazy month—seeing as how it’s the 7th already and I’m only just now posting the blog I usually do on the 1st day of the month. I’ve been sick, I’ve been reading, I’ve been writing thank you notes, I’ve been to birthday parties, I’ve been planning our trip north next month and I’ve been editing.

But first, I’ll talk about August. Ahh, August, the final month of winter...how I will miss thee. Some new characters were given life, in particular a crone called Madame Dragonfly. She was inspired by some of the images I saw at the Surrealism Exhibit we went to see at the Gallery of Modern Art in Brisbane and I’m itching to do something with her but have only the very loose threads of a story so far. All I know is that she is evil where she was once good and somehow she’s come to be the guardian of two small children.

I also submitted 2 shorties stories—making it a total of 6 stories out in submission land. I received 2 rejections and have been shortlisted for 2 so I think that’s not too shabby a result so far and have fingers crossed for good news for both.

I made a small amount of progress on the novel although not as much as I’d have liked, but September is for editing and I won’t be working on any short stories at all—I mean it! I’m still more excited about this story (Ivy’s story) than anything else I’ve ever worked on (including Tallulah Todd and Mia Millington, who are two of my favourite characters) and I’m enjoying the layering of the story and the new little things I keep discovering about Ivy and her sisters that thickens the plot and hopefully will make for a darker and more thrilling and enjoyable read.

So that’s it for now, much editing in this crazy busy first month of spring.

Happy September everyone.

The Mail Is In

2011-08-31T09:49:00.009+10:00

I love getting mail and even better, I love getting books in the mail. It brightens my day and gives me dreams of buying more bookshelves, or having an entire wall of floor to ceiling shelving that I've always dreamed of :)

This morning I was treated to Nowhere Hall by Cate Gardner and Tales from Liberty Tree by KV Taylor and I can’t wait to read them both. They are by writer friends who are both so talented that it will be a joy to get between the pages and enter the worlds they have created.

I also just bought Cassidy Hunter’s new ebook, First Night, and am looking forward to reading it too as my dear friend Ms Hunter never disappoints. Other to be read books have been moved a little further down the pile so that I can get stuck into these new delights.

I haven’t done as much editing as I’d have liked this past week though my characters have very much been on my mind and I've been enjoying thinking about them even though I haven't been working with them on paper much. I seem to have coming down with some sort of bug at the moment and we also had our engagement party last weekend which was a huge success and much fun was had catching up with family and friends. I created a slideshow of our lives from when we were born to when we met which came together really well and gave everyone a few laughs with some of our dodgy hairstyles and clothes from back in the 80’s.

September arrives tomorrow though and with it comes spring. I will miss winter terribly but I’m excited to be getting back into the editing and have much planned for the month writing wise—as well as slotting in some good reading time.

Old Favourites

2011-08-12T08:43:00.000+10:00

I suspect that one of the reasons my “to be read” pile will never decrease (aside from the fact that I keep buying books, despite regularly putting myself on a book ban) is that I also add books I’ve already read to the “to be read” pile.

Does anyone else do this?

I’ll be reading a new book and get to thinking about a book I’ve already read and loved and think, gee, I haven’t read that for a while, I really loved that book. Then I’ll go and dig it out and add it to the pile. So far this year I’ve done it with Jane Eyre, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Shining and several Patricia Highsmith novels. Why? Because I love them, and I love revisiting a favourite story. It’s like catching up with old friends again—although some of the characters are a tad shady so I don’t know if I’d call them “friends”.

So, my “to be read” pile doesn’t necessarily hold “new” books. It holds “golden oldies” that sometimes take precedence over new books that although I can’t wait to read them too, I just experience a sudden desire to visit with old friends. At the moment I’m reading This Sweet Sickness by Patricia Highsmith. I think I read it for the first time about ten years ago after I’d devoured the Ripley novels and Strangers on a Train and then began to work my way through the rest of Highsmith’s novels—reading her books is akin to taking a wonderful and dark journey through some dangerous minds.

Tell me some of your old favourites that you love to revisit from time to time.

The Murder House: Shades of an Interior

2011-08-09T09:33:00.015+10:00

I just realised I still hadn’t posted part 2 of The Murder House. The house is long gone now and the land has been subdivided and is currently for sale as part of a new estate. I still picture the Murder House every morning when I walk past though. I imagine the long grass around the house, dancing in the wind, an air of desertion about the place. I imagine who might have originally lived there and what happened to them. I think about who came after them and why they left. And I think about the last people to live there, because they made the place what it was before it was pulled down. And it had been badly neglected.

These photos were taken the first day after the demolition crew moved in and began pulling the house down. We hadn’t been able to get in before as the house was locked so by the time we had access some of the walls had already been removed, but the creepiness remained...

One of the things we did notice was that a false ceiling had been added at some stage. In the living area above us was the beautiful nine foot ceiling someone, for whatever reason (I’m thinking that maybe it was to stash ill-gotten gains) had installed. In some of the photos you can see the false ceiling and in the sixth photo if you look at the top right hand side of the photo you can see where some of the ceiling has been pulled away and above that is the original ceiling. I thought I had taken a photo of it but I can’t seem to find it.

The Murder House might be gone, but it remains in my memory and in photographs. Every time I think about the house, every time I walk past it, I get to wondering about the story I will set there. No doubt one of many to come.

August

2011-08-02T11:15:00.001+10:00

August is a busy month, both for writing and life in general. But first I will talk about July. Last month, for me, was an exciting month because I discovered some great plot threads in the novel I’m editing which have really inspired me to keep working to the end when I was finding myself falling into a bit of a slump—you might recognise the feeling of alternating between loving and despising the manuscript and wondering why the hell you’re even bothering—but now I’m charging towards the end (well, there’s still a little way to go) but I see the light at the end of the tunnel and that’s a good thing.

So, short stories submitted last month: 2.

One of them has been shortlisted so fingers crossed.

This month I’ve already submitted the 2 stories I’d planned to send off so that makes my current submissions a grant total of 7. This could possibly be a record for me :)

This month I am now free to concentrate on editing and working through the complicated lives of Ivy and her sisters. I’m also trying to catch up on my reading and attempt to make just a little dent in my growing pile of “to be read” books.

My partner and I also have our engagement party and our one year anniversary coming up in the next few weeks and I’m very much looking forward to both. We’re going away for a few nights for our anniversary up into the mountains north of the city (to a spot very near where I have set some of my stories) so I’m sure I’ll find more inspiration for future stories in those mountains and winding roads.

A Useful Dream

2011-07-28T11:49:00.001+10:00

Most of the time my dreams are about things that are currently going on in my life, and reasons I might have to worry about them—pretty much because I’m a worrier and I get anxious over things and sometimes tend to over think them—this also happens with my writing from time to time. There is very rarely anything for me to worry about but that doesn’t stop me from worrying all the same.

Every now and then though, I have a dream that is way out there and completely wacky, which is a pleasant change from the dreams mentioned above. These “oddity” dreams (as I call them) usually get jotted down in notebooks where I may or may not use them in a story one day. Sometimes I remember them in full and other times it’s just snippets of scenes running through my head, although as is usual with dreams, the pictures are always very vivid and as real as though I’d actually be there, which, technically in my dream, I was.

A few weeks ago, though, I dreamt about the characters in the novel I’m currently editing. This has never happened to me before and I was so stunned about the scene I’d dreamt that when I woke up I needed time to process it. You see, the scene I’d dreamt about with Ivy and her sisters was quite shocking and one of them does something that I did not think her capable of. It wasn’t a scene from the novel but it needed to be. It was a realisation that was so exciting that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. It has caused me to have to partially rework the first three chapters and has also caused a minor change to the ending but the work involved in doing that doesn’t even make me want to groan and tear out my hair, because I am so bloody excited about this opening scene that I’ve now got it down on paper and am working through the opening chapters, making small changes, marvelling that it actually came to me in a dream.

A New Addition

2011-07-22T15:06:00.008+10:00

I call her Seraphina. She’s a little different and nowhere near as old as the others I’ve collected, but there’s something so unnerving about her that I had to rescue her from the op shop. I found her in the back corner of the store on a shelf behind some old teddy bears. I dusted her off, paid the $4.00 they were asking and took her home.

There are dolls featured in the book I am editing—antique dolls that have been long buried in a chest in the attic. They’ve recently been discovered by one of my characters and hold a secret that’s important to the plot. I never quite grew out of the love I had for dolls as a child but now, the ones I buy (or the ones that find me) are a lot different to the ones I once received for birthdays and Christmas. These newer (old) dolls inspire a lot more stories than the old ones.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires My Writing

2011-07-19T13:34:00.002+10:00

Today’s song is Bird on a Wire by Sarah Blasko. I’ve listened to this song, and in fact the whole CD, so many times since I’ve started editing Ivy’s story that I’m in danger of getting sick of it. The lyrics are so hauntingly close to what Ivy is going through that it’s almost as though the song was written for her. I listen to it while I’m driving which means that I’m frantically jotting down ideas and threads of conversations between Ivy and her sisters every time I pull up at the traffic lights.

With this book I’m exploring the relationship between sisters. I don’t have a sister and was always curious about anyone who did—the bond and friendship, the rivalries and competitiveness. In this story I’ve created three very troubled and flawed women who are struggling with terrible guilt and don’t know how to get on with their lives. Sarah Blasko’s music is brilliant for getting me in the mood to write about them as it has that dreamy, haunting quality to it that takes me to another place and helps the sisters come alive on paper.

Interestingly enough, Sarah Blasko’s music isn’t the sort that any of the sisters would listen to. Ava would much rather prefer blues or jazz, Mira is a fan of classical music and Ivy listens to nothing but rock music. But it sure does inspire their story.

MEME for Monday

2011-07-11T11:23:00.010+10:00

The supremely cool Natalie Sin tagged me for this Meme which gives me something to blog about on this cold Monday.

Are you a rutabaga?

No, but I should be insulted that you asked.

When was the last time you ate lion meat?

Right after we finished off the last of the leopard meat.

Upload a heartwarming picture of something that makes you smile.

Not heart warming for some, but I have a very special story in mind for these kiddies.

If you could go back in time and kick the crap out of someone, who would it be?

Apart from a few annoying flatmates I once had I can’t really think of anyone else.

Name one habit that makes other people plot your demise.

My bad temper. Maybe some might see it as a threat.

What song would you like to be playing while you are kicking the crap out of someone?

If I was kicking the crap out of someone, although it’s highly unlikely, but if I was, maybe I could see it happening to More Human Than Human by White Zombie.

Where da muffin top at?

Not for public view. The muffin top never should be.

How many goats, stacked atop one another like Yertle’s Turtles, would it take to reach the moon?

Are they standing or lying down?

Describe yourself using obscure Latin words.

Latin! Are you kidding me?

Why does evil exist?

Light and dark, baby.

What the chiz are you thinking right now?

The kiddies in the picture above. They’re getting restless. Don't be deceived by their gloominess.

Tag 5 people:

1. Cassidy Hunter
2. Aaron Polson
3. KC Shaw
4. Fiona Gregory
5. Glediar

Pick a funny nickname for number 1.

Mistress Divine. Okay, maybe it’s not that funny, but it’s pretty cool.

Make up a rhyme about number 2.

Polson writes so dark
Never lazy about his art

Where would number 3 hide in the event of the apocalypse?

In alternate universe of course.

Where does number 4 purchase her pants?

I don’t know. I shall ask her.

What would number 5′s favorite dance move be?

I’d like to see her doing the Hustle

To Be Read...

2011-07-06T09:50:00.023+10:00

This is why I have to stop buying books (see below)—I say this knowing very well that it’s not going to happen.

These are the books that recently arrived on my doorstep from The Book Depository and that I also purchased from local independent booksellers, Avid Reader and Riverbend Books (I like to balance out my support of the local guys and also take advantage of the online savings). They’re now sitting on top of the teetering piles of books that I’m absolutely dying to read. There’s just one thing holding me back—time. I read a page here and there, whenever I can—sometimes early in the morning, sometimes at lunch, sometimes late at night. Sometimes I even read while I’m cooking dinner, because I can’t not be reading a book. I only wish I could read more.

So for now, until large windows of time miraculously appear and allow me to read for as along as I want, and because I can’t possibly not buy books as soon as they’re released, my “to be read” pile grows larger and larger by the week.

Tell me what's in your "to be read" pile that you're absolutely dying to get to.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires My Writing

2011-06-21T15:53:00.002+10:00

Today’s musical inspiration is No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age. This song is in the soundtrack I’ve created for The Indigo Paramour and one of the songs I listen to over and over while I’m editing.

The lyrics have nothing to do with the story as such, it’s more an interpretation I’ve made of the song, of my character’s acceptance of her fate and how she’s going to deal with it. The music inspires me too—the beginning of the song especially, as I see Ivy driving home after a long absence, wanting to be anywhere but in her car, knowing that soon she’ll have to deal with her sisters who she hasn’t seen in such a long time. I imagine this song is playing on the radio and Ivy is tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, desperately wanting to turn her car around, well aware of the fact that her life is falling apart around her and she is powerless to stop it.

Yesterday, while I was reading over the story outline, I discovered that two secondary characters could easily be meshed into one character. It will involve a little bit of rewriting but again will tighten the story. It has given this one character more of a purpose in the story and also given her more depth.

In the Wintertime

2011-06-09T12:52:00.000+10:00

I have good news to share today...my flash fiction story, Alone, has been accepted for publication with Twisted Dreams and will appear in their October issue. I am very excited about this one as it’s the shortest story I’ve ever written (364 words) and it came about because I was pissed off about something and the only way for me to get over it and move on was to write about it. This may or may not amuse you if you do read the story when it comes out.

It is very cold here in Brisbane today and the clouds are blocking a very weak sun. It’s lovely writing weather and I’m making excellent progress on the editing this lunchtime. The words are coming to me easily and it’s less like pulling teeth. We shall see if I am still as happy with them tomorrow.

Last night we went to the local theatre and saw Edward Gant’s Amazing Feats of Loneliness. Anyone local should head along and see it before it closes as they’re heading to Sydney soon, so anyone down there should look out for it too. It’s full of oddities and freakish stories of whimsy and the grotesque that delight and shock. It’s well worth seeing if you get the chance. I absolutely loved it, it certainly inspired me and gave me a few ideas.

June

2011-06-01T13:14:00.001+10:00

Today is the first day of winter here in Oz and despite the fact that I love the cold and that I’m excited about editing, I can barely summon the energy to do anything. I am so tired that I can barely hold my eyes open. I’m at work, have struggled to make it to lunch and am looking at a long dreary afternoon ahead. Even my main character’s next scene or the double shot flat white I just had isn’t enough to perk me up. Here’s hoping a good night’s sleep tonight will get me back on top of things.

May itself was a relatively productive month in that I edited and went on my annual retreat with my writer’s group. We had a very inspirational weekend which—except for the past two days—has given me even more inspiration to get to the finish line and also provided extra helpful tips that I’ve managed to incorporate into the novel.

Last month, while contemplating the value/necessity of a Prologue I decided to strip it from my novel. I had thought it important to the story—I thought it set the beginning of the story up nicely—but then just over a week ago, after reading through it again, I realised the story should actually begin about halfway through Chapter 1, at a point where I feel it would have more impact. So I scrapped the Prologue and the first half of Chapter 1 and the first chapter now begins with much more impact and the “back story” is sprinkled lightly into the novel within the first few chapters—just enough to give the reader a taste of Ivy’s current situation while she’s busy dwelling on the past.

This month I’ll keep plodding along with the edits, all the while getting closer and closer. I’m actually enjoying not writing any new stories and happy to play around with the words in this novel and work towards getting it right. I don’t plan to work on any short stories this month—as much as I love them I realise they take up a lot of my writing time (which has been reduced even more lately) and I’m going to devote the spare time I have to this novel. It must go out the door this year and I’ve decided no other story will hinder the process until it’s gone. That’s my plan for this month and the new few and I’m sticking to it.

Happy June and happy writing!

Dreams and Friday Oddities

2011-05-27T10:35:00.000+10:00

Last night I dreamt about a church filled with lettuce. That’s all I can recall of the dream, but that little memory of it is odd enough in itself. All you dream analysers out there knock yourselves out with that one.

Incidentally, I also dreamt that I worked at NCIS and Gibbs was getting angry with me because I kept talking about wedding plans. Ninety percent of the time I enjoy my dreams. They’re a mix of reality and the bizarre—a good mix, I like to think. And every now and then there’s an amusing one, like this one, that gives me a chuckle when I wake up. I don’t have too many bad dreams which in one respect is a good thing but on the other hand, I could use them for story inspiration.

This morning, as I was leaving for work I was reversing out of the driveway and I saw a white hoodie (hooded sweatshirt) on our footpath. Accidentally dropped by someone? Although how anyone would drop a sweatshirt in such cold weather is beyond me. Anyway, it got me to thinking about the final scenes of The Indigo Paramour. I had them all worked out in my head and down on paper too. Then this sweatshirt appears and throws another idea into the works. It is such a fabulously devious idea that I was making notes every time I had to stop at the traffic lights. It means I’m going to have to change the ending slightly and shuffle around some of the final scenes but I’m really excited about it and think the conclusion will be much tighter and stronger now. It’s amazing what can come out of a glimpse at an abandoned sweatshirt on a footpath.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires My Writing

2011-05-24T09:37:00.006+10:00

Seeing as how it’s Bob Dylan’s birthday I thought I’d blog about another of his songs today. Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright is a song I’m listening to while I’m editing my current WIP, The Indigo Paramour. In particular these words...

It ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
That light I never knowed
And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road

I listen to the song over and over again and some of the feeling for it seeps into my work—well, hopefully it does. My main character and the other character that this song is inspired by are both in their own world of pain and it seems neither of them has any idea how to pull themselves out. If they weren’t so stubborn they’d rely on each other, but of course that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? :)

I’ve been listening to Dylan since I was a child and I was fascinated by the strange man with the odd voice. My parents used to play his records back in the day when they’d have people over for BBQ’s on weekends. His records were played into the night and countless times I fell asleep to his voice. My love of his music has carried into adulthood and I never tire of his nasally, grainy voice, so unique and unpolished. He’s an absolute legend and I hope he has a great birthday.

Retreating

2011-05-17T10:24:00.002+10:00

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere recently and I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things. I’ve had a bad cold for the past week that just keeps on sinking its claws into me and I also had my annual Belles Writer’s Retreat starting last Friday and ending on Sunday. I look forward to this retreat every year because I know it’s going to get me all inspired and fill my head with new ideas and make me even more determined to finish editing.

We had a great weekend writing, workshopping, talking about writing, plotting, eating, walking, a few drinks and plenty of laughter. We discovered an old lighthouse and climbed an enormous hill to get to it, and I even plan to set a short story in the lighthouse—something offbeat and quirky, lighter than I normally write (although my stories invariably end up dark) as I think the character leans towards that kind of story rather than horror. Although now that I’ve said that I can see how my plot could take a dark turn. I’ll try and keep her light though and see where the story takes me.

Now I’m back at work and wishing I could have a few days in bed to recover. I’ve picked up my editing pen and I’m continuing to wade through the words, slowly making my way to the finish line.

May & an April Proposal

2011-05-04T13:46:00.001+10:00

April was a wonderful month in so many ways but most importantly in that my boyfriend proposed to me. He surprised me on Good Friday by driving me down to the waterfront and asking me to marry him on our 8 month anniversary. He’s a bit of a romantic lad and I am now sporting an absolutely gorgeous engagement ring. I’m still grinning from ear to ear and forgetting things left, right and centre. I’m sure my boss will be tearing out the remainder of his hair soon as I absentmindedly plod through the day :)

Suffice to say, there hasn’t been much writing done in the last week or so. Luckily, I’d got my submissions sent off earlier in the month—after some intense re-working I sent off The Witching Hour and The Paisley Stain. I also submitted The Little Drummer Girl (previously published by Tasmaniac Publications in the Festive Fear Anthology) to another publication. It’s been several months since I made a submission (aside from the short story (The Beauty of Key) I sent off to a comp in late March and now that I’m back into the swing of things I’d like to make sure I’ve always got at least one story out there—I know that’s not a lot but it’s better than nothing. Right?

Editing on The Indigo Paramour is going well—at least I dug back into it in the last day or so. I’ve done nothing further with The Corpse Butterfly but that’s okay, it’s not going anywhere. Indigo is just working better for me now. Ivy (main character in The Indigo Paramour) is a much darker and more complex character than Lily (The Corpse Butterfly) yet I’m finding her much easier to write—her flaws and her secrets and her guilt are making for an interesting story.

May will be spent working on Indigo (must get back into disciplined routine) and I’ll get at least one other short story submitted. Since I gave The Witching Hour a good shake up and re-subbed it I’m keen to do the same with The Baited Psychopath and hopefully it will also find a home soon too.

Happy May everyone and happy writing.

Reading

2011-04-29T09:05:00.008+10:00

I have returned from camping unscathed. We had a great Easter and I hope you all did too. Not much writing or reading was done but there was plenty of exploring and a few ideas did take form. I’ve jotted them down and put them aside for later because I refuse to be sidetracked from the editing.

I’m also trying to get back into my reading too. The last few months I’ve really slowed down with it as other things have taken priority. That’s not to say that I’m not reading at all, because I am. And the books I’ve read in recent months have something in common—they are all recently published by writers I have met online. It can be a lonely existence this writing gig and while I’m lucky enough to be a part of a wonderful critique group, I love the fact that I’ve made some great writing friends online and even better, I love it when one of their books is released and I can get my sticky fingers on a copy.

First of all is Asylum by Cassidy Hunter. This book is a steamy, steamy read by a dear friend who I’ve never met face to face but know that one day I will and we’ll have much to catch up on. If you’re looking for some heat between the pages, this book is for you.

Next is Loathsome, Dark & Deep by Aaron Polson. Aaron is an outstanding author and a great guy to boot. This book is dark and sinister and a compelling read. I couldn’t wait to rip through to the end but at the same time wanted to enjoy the time it took to get there to fully appreciate the story.

The Dragon Whisperer by KC Shaw is a charming and suspenseful tale of a woman who gets much more than she bargained for. KC tells a wonderful story and you’ll be swept along with May, hoping all will work out for her in the end.

The House Eaters is another deliciously dark tale from Aaron Polson that throws an original light on the haunted house story. You won’t be disappointed with this one, folks.

And last but not least, Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits & Other Curious Things by Cate Gardner is a collection of dark, creepy and strange tales that will make you want to check your doors are locked and there’s no one lurking under your bed. Best read late at night under the covers with a torch.

This is just a few of the books I’ve read recently by my online friends, and I can’t wait to read more.

Easter Camp

2011-04-21T12:12:00.002+10:00

I am going camping for Easter. Anyone who knows me well knows this is the first time these words have been uttered from my lips. I have never been camping before—aside from the one time my brother and I decided to camp out in the backyard (I was about 11, he was about 8) and pitched the two man tent he’d received the Christmas before, then settled in for the night complete with sleeping bags and a torch. Not an hour later we were seen to be scarpering into the house to the comfort of our warm beds, electric lighting, television and the lack of outdoorsy sounds that could have been any number of monsters waiting to attack us.

So at the moment I’m planning what clothes and books to take, food, wine, beer, plus of course the essentials that my partner and some of my friends who have been camping before have pointed out are great things to take—insect repellent, spare toilet paper, band aids, etc.

I plan to have a great time and am looking forward to bushwalking in the national park we’ll be staying in—hopefully there’ll be plenty of inspiration and photo opportunities. Plus there is Easter which means there will be a monumental amount of Easter eggs consumed over the holiday period.

I’m looking forward to the ideas I’ll bring home with me and while there has been many a horror story born out of camping trips, you never know, I might manage to come up with something fresh—something a little nasty mixed with a lot of darkness and stirred with copious amounts of evil.

Have a great Easter everyone and I hope you all get to chow down on plenty of chocolate.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires my Writing

2011-04-19T14:32:00.003+10:00

Go away from my window, leave at your own chosen speed...the opening lines of It Ain’t Me Babe by Bob Dylan.

I love the words as much as I love Bob Dylan and the music that accompanies the lyrics. This song is part of the soundtrack I created for The Indigo Paramour. I play it over and over on my MP3 because it’s such a huge representation of my main character’s (Ivy’s) personality and partly explains why she’s who she is. There have been occasions where I’ve created a story inspired by the words of a song or the music, but this time it was the other way around—I created the character first and then placed the song to Ivy later. She has huge issues with trust and intimacy and she’ll look for any little excuse to push people away. The song might be written from a male point of view but it screams of Ivy’s emotional state and despair at ever being able to connect with anyone.

If you don’t already know the lyrics and you get a chance, seek them out online or better still, have a listen on Youtube—if you can find a version that Bob Dylan is actually singing. It’s a brilliant song. Well, I think so anyway :)

An Atmospheric Setting

2011-04-15T12:21:00.006+10:00

Some of my favourite books are those filled with thick and heavy with atmosphere. I love curling up to read about decaying castles, neglected family homes, hurricane lamps lighting dull, drafty rooms filled with antique furniture, family portraits of somber ancestors, abandoned gardens that conceal forgotten graves obscured by vines and poisonous flowers, fog, mist, rain—I never get tired of reading about any of these things. Throw in lies, betrayal, long buried secrets, deceit and deception, a missing corpse, madness and a murder or two and I am in heaven, but that’s another post. In the book I’m currently editing I’ve created a place I would dearly love to visit, in person that is. I go there in my mind every day but to actually set foot in this place would be amazing. Ivy’s family home sits atop a hill that overlooks the town of Indigo and Lake Superstition (on the other side of the lake is the town of Superstition, where The Corpse Butterfly is partially set). The house was built by Ivy’s grandfather in the Victorian style he loved as a child. It’s out of place among the more contemporary homes in the area and around it is a forest of evergreens and weeping willows. To the side of the house lies three paths—two that lead nowhere and one, through the middle of the forest, that leads to Bridal Veil Falls. Directly behind the house, unkempt and wildly overgrown is the grave of Ivy’s father, Clyde Chase, a brutal and manipulative man who raised his daughters with corporal punishment and no love. A family tragedy has brought Ivy home and the night she arrives there is a swirling mist surrounding the house and coach lights burning a dull amber are the only indication the house is actually there. Her estranged sisters are inside, in separate rooms, agonising silently over their problems. The house is the centrepiece of the book, has been kept exactly as it was when her grandparents were alive and as Ivy goes inside and moves from room to room, she feels Clyde’s ghost behind her, tormenting her. She experiences a rush of horrific memories of the nightmare of her childhood and as the days pass by at a torturous pace, the house begins to have a strange hold over her. She feels herself being pulled further into its embrace as she struggles to deal with her demons and also to try and exorcise Clyde’s ghost. PS: again, forgive the paragraphing, or lack thereof - I am still trying to work out why it has suddenly stopped enabling me.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires my Writing

2011-04-12T14:55:00.001+10:00

Three sisters, a crumbling family home, a domineering, manipulative “puppet master” father, a rape and a dark family secret long buried. Ivy Chase returns home after a long absence and soon it’s as though she never left. Her father might be dead now but his ghost lingers, tormenting the sisters. Today’s song is Welcome to My Nightmare by Alice Cooper. The rich darkness of the lyrics and the music help bring the story to life, especially when I’m stuck in the editing process. It provides a great backdrop for the sisters’ as they struggle with their demons, trying to exercise their father’s ghost to enable them to get on with their lives. There are darker forces at work though, much darker than their father’s ghost, and the estranged sisters will have to put their animosity and grudges aside and work together in order to survive. This book is called The Indigo Paramour and is one of the books I’m currently editing (along with The Corpse Butterfly).

The Black Book

2011-04-07T15:49:00.003+10:00

Behold the Black Book. It was started as a project by my crit group where we would each contribute 1,000 or so words to a story. There were no rules as to genre or characterisation, it was purely a creative activity to get us out of our comfort zones and just write whatever took our fancy whether it be dark and mysterious, a black comedy, silly humour or otherwise. You might wonder whether it was successful or not, whether everyone contributed and kept it going. Well, it has become a much coveted and sought after book. Every fortnight when we meet the Black Book is passed to a new person. We don’t discuss the contents, just salivate at the chance to read the previous works and write another entry. I have it at the moment for the third time and I love the direction each story has taken—particularly what the person who had the book after me did with the story and any new characters I’ve created. I’ve just spent the last week concocting the most delicious characters, dropping them in a deep hole (not literally) for the next person to try and dig them out. As the book goes around each time, the last person to get it wraps the story up, usually in the most amusing of ways. I’ll get my chance to wrap it up next time around and I’m very much looking forward to it. PS - forgive the lack of paragraphing again. The same issues are still driving me batty.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires my Writing

2011-04-05T14:49:00.008+10:00

Picture this: You’re a little girl about nine years old. You have long silver blonde hair and the face of an angel. You also have the mind of a psychopath. You have a pet raven called Fredrick and you listen to Black Sabbath. The little girl is Tally Todd and she appeared in a story called The Child Villain that was published in an anthology with Black Hound called Atrum Tempestas. Today’s song is Paranoid by Black Sabbath. I played it over and over again while I was writing the story, probably to the absolute despair of my neighbours as it was prior to owning an MP3 player where I could “keep it to myself”. The lyrics of the song have very little to do with the story, its more the music and just the fact that I somehow knew that little Tally Todd liked to listen to Black Sabbath. Visions of her menacing the streets, Fredrick on her shoulder, accompanied me the entire time I wrote, developing a story about this strange little girl and her appetite for killing. There were few things she truly cared about and one of them was lost to her in that story. Now she’s back. And she’s all grown up. She has another story to tell...a much darker story. Just don’t call her Tally Todd anymore. She only answers to Tallulah Todd these days...and her aura is positively black. PS Forgive the lack of paragraphing as this blog suddenly won't allow me to.

April

2011-04-01T12:31:00.014+10:00

I love April. April is Easter and cool weather and rain. April, to me, is the gateway to winter and winter of my favourite month. I get more inspired to write in the cooler weather and with each day I can feel my productivity increasing.

March kind of slipped away and before I realised it I hadn't submitted the short stories I'd been aiming to send before month's end. I did get the competition entry in (The Beauty of Key) so there was one "submission", which is better than none.

So, this month there will be at least 3 submissions (The Broken Juggler, An Attic in Hell and The Baited Psychopath). There will also be much editing and working on other short stories. That's about it really, not a lot to say, but a lot of work to do :)

In a totally non-writing matter, we have welcomed three new additions to our household in the form of chickens: Esmeralda, Agatha and Kiev. Esmeralda and Kiev are black and fluffy with black eyes and Agatha is brown and mean and has suspicious eyes. They are settling in well although our kelpie, Kirra (aka The Little Girl) is not coping so well and won't be happy until she has dined on at least one of them. We are fairly confident that they are safe in their new home and while The Little Girl stalks the fence surrounding their enclosure she can't get to them. Fingers crossed.

Endings

2011-03-30T13:16:00.000+10:00

It turns out I have an ending to my short story (The Broken Juggler) that has people divided. When I finished it I was quite happy with how it had turned out—a little satisfied and a lot happy with it overall. This worried me as I’ve loved stories of mine before and they’ve received a lukewarm reception at my writer’s group. Stories that I usually tear my hair out over and make me want to remove my eyes with a rusty fork are usually well received and rewarded with more good comments than bad. So you can understand that when I loved his story I was a little perturbed. Strange? I know. It’s the ending that’s causing the most controversy—and I don’t mean controversy in a good way—from both my writer’s group and other readers, along with one comment about there being something off kilter with the entire story (again, not in a good way). I do like the ending, but maybe I’m just too close to the story and I’ve missed something. As one of my fellow Belles (my writer’s group) said, a good story often has people discussing the ins and outs and what ifs, so this is not necessarily a bad thing, but I wonder...does it mean that I’ve been too vague (and assumed yet again that everyone is inside my head and knows exactly what I’m thinking) or does it mean that I haven’t captured the essence of the story correctly? I’m going to let the story sit for a couple of days and then have another look at it.

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires my Writing

2011-03-29T11:16:00.002+10:00

I’m blogging about another Bob Dylan song today because it inspired a story about one of my favourite characters. Oliver Lambert is a man who feels the need to speak infrequently and is uncomfortable among people. He’s an observer, can move through a crowd with the ability to remain unseen, is largely unmemorable and he loves his brother to the point of obsession. He’s proud of his brother, applauds his brother’s successes, but he will not share his brother with anyone. His story, The Baited Psychopath, which is yet to be published, grew out of the lyrics from Positively 4th Street, although it wasn’t so much the lyrics as a whole but snippets of words here and there—and it’s also the way Dylan delivers them that provided much of the inspiration. I hope I find a home for it soon because I have a real soft spot for Oliver and his little idiosyncrasies and it’s also the first story I’ve written with a male main character so I’m actually a little bit proud of it.

Unknown

2011-03-25T09:54:00.002+10:00

I dug this photo out yesterday, it’s one of the photos I took when I went on the cemetery field trip last year with my writers group.

It makes you wonder who this person was and why no one had anything to say about her. What was her last name? When was she born? Did she have any family? Did she have an interesting life or was it filled with tragedy?

The possibilities are endless...

Bob Dylan Tuesday or: How Music Inspires my Writing

2011-03-22T14:03:00.002+10:00

Few songs really get inside my head like Bob Dylan’s do. No matter what he’s singing, I’m listening, travelling along with him for the ride. He’s one of those singers that doesn’t just sing the song, he tells the story. I have most of his CD’s in my collection and I don’t favour either his earlier or later work—I love all of it. I’ve blogged about him before but I’m going to talk about him again today because I was driving to work this morning listening to All Along the Watchtower, a song I’ve heard hundreds of times over many years but for some reason this morning it triggered an idea.

I originally had the idea for the story a few weeks ago when just the threads of it came to me—a character called Agatha who has to make a deal with the devil (who incidentally lives in a stucco house and wears Italian suits). I didn’t know what deal she had to make or how she came to be knocking on the devil’s door (one might think the idea would have come to me from Knocking on Heaven’s Door) but I knew that she had to be there just the same.

I won’t go into too much detail yet as I don’t have the details of the story nutted out and I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it too much before I finish it—as I’ve done previously and been left with a few frustrating notes that don’t go beyond that—but again, it’s just amazing, and exciting, how much of a story can come alive from just a few words of a song.

Then I got to thinking about all the other songs, of which I quite often blog about, that inspire stories, or scenes in my novel, and so Bob Dylan Tuesday has been born. It’s not all about Bob Dylan—but I do have him up on a God-like pedestal so think it’s only fitting that it’s named after him—it’s also about the music and why it inspires me so much. I’ve never had a regular weekly post before so I thought I’d give this a go and see where it takes me. Because after talking about books and writing, I love to talk about what I’m listening to on the radio/MP3/CD player.

I’d love to hear what songs, if any, inspire everyone when they’re writing and why.

Darkness & Light

2011-03-15T09:14:00.002+10:00

The Beauty of Key has been entered in the competition with Country Style magazine. A submission for March! The story isn’t as dark as I’d normally write and I’m impressed that I was able to write something so light as every time I pick up a pen these days my thoughts immediately turn to dark and sinister places.

The final draft of The Broken Juggler is also done and awaiting critique at my next writer’s group meeting. It leans toward being one of the darkest things I’ve written and interestingly enough, I this story in tandem with The Beauty of Key while listening to Sarah Blasko’s Lost & Defeated. It inspired both stories for very different reasons.

Yesterday, in order to try and make the most of my time I mapped out the next few months in relation to editing, writing new short stories that I already have ideas for and reading. It looks intense and a little daunting but I know I can do it. Now that it’s right in front of me, written in ink I’ve got a better chance of sticking to it. I’m hoping because of this I’ll get in some more reading time because it’s one of the things I’ve been slack about these last months and I have a pile of great books waiting to be read—it pains me to walk past them and know I can’t just curl up and read them—one in particular which I am currently reading and thoroughly enjoying is Aaron Polson’s Loathsome, Dark and Deep. I’ve been snatching bits of time here and there which is frustrating because it’s a bloody great story and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

I also want to give a shout out to check out Cate Gardner’s story And, The Bride Wore Ashes over at Phantasmacore. It’s creepy and dark and great.

And also check out Natalie Sin’s Predation over at The Red Penny Papers for a wonderfully disturbing read.

The Undisciplined Writer Strikes Again

2011-03-09T13:52:00.002+10:00

And by “undisciplined” I mean that this is both a good and a bad thing.

Good, because it means I have first drafts of two new short stories (The Beauty of Key, and I have finally—after months of procrastination—finished The Broken Juggler).

Bad, because I should have been editing The Corpse Butterfly.

It was good to take a little break again though as I’ll return to the story fresh (I hope). I took annual leave from work last Thursday and Friday to edit said novel and managed to make good inroads into it.

I’m surprised at how many changes I’m still making but I’m tightening and picking up little errors along the way so it’s a good thing. Thursday was my most productive day yet Friday was the better writing day as it was raining and the sky was dark and it was oh so much cooler than it has been lately.

Save for the (I suspect) brain damaged Pee Wee that kept flying at the window and throwing off my train of thought, I was—at that stage—pretty much on track (this poor bird has been hanging around the house for weeks and even the dog, who has a penchant for devouring birds, lizards, mice, isn’t interested in it. In fact we think the dog and the bird might have become friends of sorts). The ending for The Broken Juggler came to me on Saturday afternoon and I got the idea for The Beauty of Key on Sunday morning and spent Sunday afternoon working on them.

Right now—after I tear myself away from the internet—I’m doing another draft of both short stories. I’ll leave them sit for a few days, return to editing Corpse, and then I’ll give them another going over before I send them out into submission land. I’m happy to say March is turning into quite a productive month.

March

2011-03-01T11:43:00.000+10:00

I’m going to call February a milestone month because it was the month in which I wrote a synopsis that is actually a synopsis. Surprised? I was. Although I shouldn’t have been. I worked on it and worked again, thought about it, edited it, studied it, swore at it, threatened to burn it, and when I’d finished it was indeed a synopsis. I am relieved.

I finished the month with another edit of The Corpse Butterfly under my belt and now I’m finalising my agent list and giving the manuscript another going over for any glaring errors before I hand it out to my crit group for their read through. It’s exciting and scary at the same time and I can’t wait to be sending it out into submission land, although no doubt I’ll start gnawing on my fingernails wondering why the hell I didn’t give it another edit before I sent it. I can’t keep editing forever though, at some point it has to go out.

And now I turn to March. March, how I love thee already. Why? Because summer is over. It’s still considerably warm, but March is autumn and autumn means that winter is coming...cold weather, foggy mornings, longer nights. Ahhhhhh. I write more in winter. I find cold weather more inspiring and I’m looking forward to the upcoming months and hope they are indeed productive.

This month of course I’ll be doing the final edits on Corpse and finally, a finished draft of The Broken Juggler that I’m going to edit and submit—its set inside the Murder House (interior photos of which I will post soon). I’m also finally giving The Baited Psychopath, An Attic in Hell and The Witching Hour another going over so that I can send them off as well as I’ve been sadly unproductive when it comes to short story submissions in these last months. I don’t hold out much hope for finishing any other short stories this month, but time permitting, I’ll certainly give it a go.

Have a great March.

Books Read 2010

2011-02-23T11:45:00.001+10:00

Late February and I’m only now posting my list of books read for 2010. Hmmm. Nothing else to say but here it is :)

1. The Thirteenth Tale – Diane Setterfield *
2. The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold
3. Under the Dome – Stephen King
4. The Blunderer – Patricia Highsmith
5. Wicked Little Game – Christine Wells
6. The Sisters Mortland – Sally Beauman
7. Bloodroot – Amy Greene
8. The Seance – John Harwood
9. Die for You – Lisa Unger
10. Those Faraday Girls – Monica McInerney
11. Gerald’s Game – Stephen King *
12. The Grotesque – Patrick McGrath
13. Horns – Joe Hill
14. Liar – Justine Larbalestier
15. The Woman in Black – Susan Hill
16. The Shining – Stephen King *
17. Sanctuary – Cassidy Hunter
18. The Secret History – Donna Tartt *
19. Beautiful Malice – Rebecca James
20. Hell House – Richard Matheson
21. Half Broken Things – Morag Joss
22. The Abode of Love – Kate Barlow
23. Her Reckless Surrender – Anna Campbell
24. The Forest of Hands and Teeth – Carrie Ryan
25. The Dead Tossed Waves – Carrie Ryan
26. Haunted Lily – Sidney Fox
27. The Graveyard Book – Neil Gaiman
28. Sizzling Sixteen – Janet Evanovich
29. The Ghost Writer – John Harwood
30. Sweetest Little Sin – Christine Wells
31. Dark Pages Anthology – Various
32. Madigan Mine – Kirstyn McDermott
33. The Haunting of James Hastings – Christopher Ransom
34. Black Ice – Anne Stuart
35. The Little Stranger – Sarah Waters
36. The Haunted Hotel – Wilkie Collins
37. Come Closer – Sara Gran
38. A Great and Terrible Beauty – Libba Bray
39. The Poison Tree – Erin Kelly
40. At Home With The Templetons – Monica McInerney
41. Wildflower Hill – Kimberley Freeman
42. The Killer’s Cousin – Nancy Werlin
43. The Blood Countess – Tara Moss
44. Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits – Cate Gardner
45. Loathsome Dark and Deep – Aaron Polson
46. 52 Stitches - Various

(* books reread)

The Murder House

2011-02-17T08:48:00.016+10:00

Not far from our place once sat a house that looked so sinister and creepy—a place where someone might have been murdered, where terrible atrocities may have been carried out. Every time I drove past, I pictured different scenarios of what might have gone on behind those walls.

When I first met my partner there were still people living in the house—I never saw them, only heard music drifting out occasionally. A short while later they moved out and then we heard that a development was going through and the house was to be pulled down. We went straight over and took the camera.

These photos have inspired ideas for several stories that I am itching to write but have to put on the backburner because I’m working on other things. The ideas won’t go anywhere, though—one of the stories is a very diabolical little tale that I hope to be writing soon.

Last week the house was pulled down and I was sad to see it go to make way for something newer and less sinister, but I have the photos (about 50 or so in total) to provide the inspiration for many a torrid tale.

Don't Fear the Reaper (aka the Synopsis)

2011-02-07T13:24:00.001+10:00

This synopsis won’t beat me. Okay, the first draft did—I took much delight in ripping that vile mess into a million pieces—but I started fresh with a new white page and highlighted major plot points. It was too much like an outline before and yet, after having another go at it, it still is. The synopsis is a hard little bugger to master and the bane of most writers’ existences. When I get it done—eventually—I shall be very impressed with myself. In the meantime, I’m all but bleeding from the eyeballs.

Today in my lunch break I stared at the screen for ten frustrating minutes before a single word came to me. I began to bite my nails and then remembered that I stopped biting my nails over five years ago. Really, could there be no more words? But of course there are, just not the ones I want to use. Those words have disappeared, left my brain, run off to party elsewhere. And now I’m rambling—funny how I can find the words to do that.

I don’t know if this next attempt will be any better, but I need to at least get something down that I can work with, something I like. The first line is bothering me too and I think that may be stopping the rest of the synopsis falling into place. I thought I could come back to it but maybe I’ll have to persevere and get it right before I can continue. It has none of the impact I’d like and all of the boring awkwardness I don’t want.

Sigh.

Here’s me signing off to give it another go (with two much shorter fingernails).

February

2011-02-01T13:25:00.000+10:00

I feel that I’ve only just talked about my goals and that’s because I’ve only just set my goals for the year—I’m going with “slow and steady wins the race” and I’ll see how that works out for me.

I’m working on the synopsis for The Corpse Butterfly, which is probably why I have a sharp pain in my head right above my left eye—either that or it could be caused from the tooth that desperately needs to be filled. It’s coming along as well as can be expected and I look forward to taking it to my next crit group meeting and having the Belles cast their eyes over it (aka give it the right savaging that it will need).

I’ve been reading for one of the Belles these last few days as she has proceeded to the next round in a competition. Her MS is brilliant so I have my fingers and toes crossed for her that she’ll win the comp and her MS will be requested by the publisher.

Which leads me to other reading...I didn’t get a lot done in January—in fact I haven’t done much reading at all in the past few months—but I’ve nearly finished Kate Morton’s latest book which I am loving and I’ll post my Books Read for 2010 list in the next few days.

In the meantime, I’m going back to torture myself over this synopsis.

Write Hard! Writers Who Inspire Me

2011-01-28T09:09:00.002+10:00

The wonderful KC Shaw—whose fantastic new book, The Dragon Whisperer, I will be blogging about shortly—has nominated me for this award.

Rules:

1. Post the picture above to your blog. You can link here if you want. It doesn't have to become part of the permanent clutter of your sidebar. Goodness no.

2. List at least three writers who you feel live up to the "write hard" spirit. Think: writers who work at their craft, writers who never give up despite the odds, writers who constantly turn out quality work. Writers you admire. Optional: explain why you think they are awesome.

3. Include these rules or a link to them.

4. Notify said writers of their victory. Ask them to pass on the torch.

5. Continue being awesome.Here’s a few people who inspire me to get cracking (there are more, believe me but I’ll keep it limited to three):

Natalie Sin - those characters and that imagination! Not to mention a very witty and saucy blog that cheers up my sometimes dreary mornings. I aspire to the depth of characterisation that Natalie achieves and her love for her characters always shows.

K V Taylor – a brilliantly witty and very entertaining blog—from the Vampire Commentary and the excerpts from Plaguebringer to a book (Scripped) coming out in June that I can’t wait to get my hands on.

Thirdly, I’m going to do a group mention: my crit group Hells Belles. These women are amazing—they’re encouraging, supportive, hard-arse and best of all they get me. Roseanne Smiles, Fiona Gregory, Elaine Cobb, Sharon Norris and Marilyn Carey. Most of them don’t have blogs but they’re all published/writing competition winners in varying genres and they are truly inspiring and I wouldn’t be where I am now without them.

A New Year

2011-01-27T10:49:00.001+10:00

It has been over a month since I last blogged. My break from blogging over the holiday period extended much longer than I expected, but much has been happening. I’m back on board now and am pleased to say that I’ve finished editing another draft of The Corpse Butterfly.

Aside from the holidays and all of the other day to day things that seem so trivial now, we’ve just come through a horrific flood in Brisbane and while myself, my family and friends weren’t directly affected, there are a lot of people without homes, businesses and livelihoods. Lives have been lost and people are suffering terrible hardship. The rebuilding will take a long time but people have been donating their time, possessions and money to help out and it’s amazing to see everyone pull together. It makes me proud to be a part of this country and inspires me to do more to help out and contribute in other ways.

And now I suppose I should talk about my goals for last year and this year. The goal setting does keep me motivated and last year I pretty much managed to achieve what I set out to do...after coming in a few weeks over the mark. As already mentioned, I finished the edit on The Corpse Butterfly (finally!) and soon it will be going out in its entirety for my wonderful crit group to read. I’ll then do another edit and start subbing to agents. I have my agent list nearly complete and next week I’ll be tackling the most dreaded of all things—the synopsis. Then I’ll start tearing out my hair and shrieking about how insanely irritating they are.

While I didn’t get as many short stories done as I’d have liked last year, I did manage to write a few although none have been accepted for publication. Yet :) I had only one publication last year (a sad state of affairs compared to the year before) and it was with Aaron Polson’s brilliantly put together 52 Stitches. If you don’t already have a copy I suggest you get your hands on one :) I also managed to do NaNo again last year and now have another finished manuscript waiting for me to return to it one day.

This year I’ll be focussing on submitting The Corpse Butterfly, editing The Indigo Paramour (I wrote this one about three years ago and I’m really looking forward to getting back to it) and working on and editing a few more short stories, namely An Attic in Hell, The Broken Juggler, Absinthe for the Soul, Marigold & The Ivory Tea Monkey, Five Broken Mirrors, It’s A Shame About Gigi, and Agatha & The Devil. I also need to rework and resubmit The Paisley Stain, The Witching Hour and The Baited Psychopath.

Whether I’ll do NaNo this year is another story. I’ll see how I’m going with the editing of The Indigo Paramour. I ended up in a bit of a catch 22 last year in that I’m glad I did NaNo and happy I have another completed manuscript but it did put me behind with the editing of Corpse and I didn’t get it finished by the end of the year as planned. Only so much time...

So that’s my goals for the year. A little adventurous, a lot adventurous, I think I can pull it off.

And now that I’m back I’ll be blogging more regularly and hopefully will have some good news with the submissions.

Fingers crossed and a happy new year to all.

52 Stitches

2010-12-16T10:33:00.004+10:00

Behold right here a collection of short, dark stories, a must have on anyone’s bookshelf. That’s right, 52 flash fiction stories to keep you up at night, long after you should have fallen asleep. My story, Red Shoes, even makes an appearance and I'm honoured to be in print among some supremely talented authors.

All profits from this Strange Publications Anthology will be donated to the memorial fund set up for Kennedy and Brendan, the children of Jamie Eyberg and his wife, Ann, who passed away several months ago.

Please head over to Amazon and buy a copy.

A Lapse in Production

2010-12-14T08:58:00.001+10:00

The editing has tapered off to nothing over the last few days as I’ve been busy moving house. We’ve been having really bad weather here and of course on the actual day of the move we had torrential downpours—with flash flooding nearby—so we basically had to load the truck in between rain showers and then quickly unload at the other end. Just about everything is moved now and is slowly fitting into place. I’m tired and covered in bruises but am happy that it’s done and I also got a few story ideas while I was lugging boxes and loading furniture onto the back of a truck. They’re ideas for new short stories, mind you, not ideas for the endings to half finished short stories that still elude me. Still, they’re ideas all the same and I’ll make notes.

This week I’m making a valiant effort to edit despite still unpacking and also getting serious about shopping for Christmas. It’s just over a week until Christmas day and I’ve never been so disorganised in my life. It will all fall into place, but in the meantime I’m back to madly editing in my lunch breaks to try and make up for lost time. I will finish editing this book. I will finish editing this book...

December

2010-12-01T09:04:00.000+10:00

November went mostly as planned and NaNo is done with. I got hardly any reading done and I’ve all but given up on that at the moment until I get to the Christmas break. I have a pile of books on my nightstand that I’m looking forward to getting through.

The Tortured Winter, has been stored away with the other finished manuscripts waiting to be edited and I’ve turned back to The Corpse Butterfly. I’m not quite there yet but getting close. Last night I did look ahead to the final scene—purely for logistics reasons (one of my weak points)—and I’m not happy with the end of the final chapter. When I wrote the first draft it was fine because I was getting the story down and I knew how it ended and that was all that mattered. Now, I’m picking over everything with a fine tooth comb and I’m not liking the ending of the final scene, mainly from a wordage point of view. It’s weak and reads a little flippant. I’ll keep hacking away at it until I’m happy—or as happy as I can be with it—but for now it’s just swinging in the breeze, taunting me, letting me know that when I do get there it’s going to be waiting for me and I’m hoping like hell that everything will fall into place.

So, December is—finish Corpse, do another read through and print copies out for the wonderful girls in my crit group. This month I will also compile my list of agents I’m going to sub to in the new year. I’m actually very excited about getting to this point but also very nervous.

Happy December everyone and I hope you enjoy your Christmas shopping as much as I do :)

NaNo Done

2010-11-29T09:47:00.001+10:00

At 63,100 words, a good neat number. I had a busy weekend catching up with some great friends—happy birthday again to Miranda—and not a lot of writing was done, but the bones of the story is down for now and that’s all that matters. I’ve enjoyed doing NaNo and very much enjoyed getting this story down—so much so that I can’t wait to get back to edit these characters as I’ve really become quite taken with them—but I’m itching to get Corpse finished. I’ve been editing it for so long now it’s become like some sort of expedition. So, I’m straight into finishing the last lingering chapters and by that I mean tightening the final scenes to within an inch of their life and then printing out full copies for my crit partners to read through for me.

All of this is all in the midst of moving house. The last time I moved was over three years ago and at that time most of my possessions had been in storage so there wasn’t a huge amount of packing involved. This time, however, I am packing up a whole townhouse and it’s amazing how much “stuff” one can accumulate, but I’m moving in with my boyfriend who is a wonderful man who makes me so happy that really, when I think of it that way, the thought of packing up an entire townhouse doesn’t seem to be that much of a big deal :)

A Man's Home is his Convent

2010-11-23T11:58:00.002+10:00

The Mulhollands live in an old convent that their father converted into the family home many years ago. It looms high up on Bleak Mountain, overlooking Lake Superstition and the towns of Indigo and Superstition. Their father is dead now and some of the siblings still reside in the convent in seclusion and secrecy, barricaded away from a world they refuse to try and understand. They have little contact with the town ship of Bleak Mountain and the town folk are more than happy to have no contact with them. Lucien and Iris roam the halls like living ghosts and spend their days and nights planning a birthday party that will never happen.

As I delve deeper into the plot and discover new levels of evilness in my characters, the story is becoming more interwoven with nastiness as the relationships between the siblings degenerates to the point of no return.

I’m having so much fun with these characters and the WIP is now just over 49,000. My main character, Gia, is still in the dark as to what is really going on in the drafty old house and I’m going to keep writing beyond 50,000 as there is still a fair amount of story to get down.

Loathsome Dark & Deep

2010-11-18T09:18:00.006+10:00

For those who haven’t heard of Aaron Polson or read any of his work, you don’t know what you’re missing. He's a very talented author with a long list of publications and his latest, Loathsome Dark and Deep is now available for pre-order here.

To check Aaron out and the contest page go here. I’ve pre-ordered my copy (at a discounted rate I might add - so you'd be mad not to order early). Head on over and get your copy.

You seriously don't want to miss out.

Something Evil This Way Comes & Strange Men

2010-11-10T09:48:00.003+10:00

I am delighted at how evil some of my characters in my NaNo story are turning out. I created the Mulholland family for a specific purpose and they’re coming to life in the most spectacularly dastardly ways. When I started NaNo my outline was very basic and so I’m loving how things are coming to me as I go along. I’m currently at just over 20,000 words and obviously there will be massive edits required but it’s travelling along almost as well as last year’s NaNo story which is gathering dust in my writing room and calls to me every so often, begging to be edited. Oh, for the want of some extra time.

If you’re not doing NaNo and have some time for reading—and even if you are—if you haven’t already got yourself a copy of Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits & Other Curious Things by Cate Gardner you must do so. My copy arrived a few days ago and I’ve already had a peek inside and read a couple of stories and I can tell you that you’ll be disturbed in the best possible way :) It’s a fantastic collection of stories you’ll want to revisit over and over again, written by a hugely talented author and you don’t want to miss out on getting your hands on a copy. I plan to read a story each night after I close my laptop on my NaNo story.

Now, onwards and upwards with the Mulhollands.

The Tortured Winter

2010-11-03T12:21:00.001+10:00

After much ado and arsing about over where exactly to begin this book I managed to get in 3,816 words for the first day of NaNo. I do not expect this to continue as once I got going there was a mad rush to get the opening chapters down and then I sat back last night and thought “where to now?” There was some moaning, caused methinks by the zombie-like tiredness, so I went to bed and forgot about it.

Today I have a better grasp on things and the word count is still moving along okay. I share with you the main players in my NaNo story and give you a few words to describe each of them as they came to me when I first thought up the characters:

Georgina (Gia) Maxwell: Wild, Broken, Reformed, Exquisite

Cade Mulholland: Charming, Warm, Quiet, Cagey

Iris Mulholland: Elusive, Secretive, Fragile, Beautiful

Lucien Mulholland: Amused, Enigmatic, Brusque, Witty

Eve Mulholland: Cruel, Unforgiving, Spiteful, Morose

November

2010-11-01T16:53:00.003+10:00

November is for NaNo. I started this morning and I'm just going to keep tapping away at the keys until the last day of the month regardless of word count. I'm listening to Muse, Bob Dylan and Sarah Blasko and they're all inspiring me and helping with the plot issues I still have (towards the end) but that I refuse to worry about now. I mapped out a rough draft, which I added to on Saturday and had a few much needed lightbulb moments. I know how the story ends though and what my main character has to do, so any issues will be ironed out in the edit (whenever that is).

I nearly managed to finish editing The Corpse Butterfly in October, but not quite. I fell short of meeting my goal but I'm confident I can get it done before Christmas and get some of my crit partners to do a read through for me before I do a final draft and start sending it to agents in the new year.

Sadly, I've done no work on any of my short stories so had no submissions again last month, but at least that means there were no rejections. Right?

Anyway, for those doing NaNo, write on...and on...and on :) And have fun.

The End of Holidays & The Beginning of Halloween

2010-10-28T12:38:00.002+10:00

I’m back from holidays—I achieved about half of what I set out to do—and should be refreshed but strangely I feel that I need another week or two. Or more. The editing still isn’t finished, which means I won’t meet my goal before NaNo begins on Monday, but I’m okay with that.

I am ready for NaNo though. My fingers are poised over the keyboard and I plan to get up early Monday morning—oh, the best laid plans—and make an early start on the word count.

Now, to celebrate Halloween I’d like to share with you a picture of Edmund, who I recently purchased on Ebay for research purposes—should I ever finish that story either. He sits on a shelf in my writing room and watches over me while I write.

And further in keeping with Halloween, I decided to share my list of what I think are the best horror films of all time:

1. Psycho
2. The Grudge
3. Rosemary’s Baby
4. Dracula
5. The Exorcist
6. The Shining
7. Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror
8. Halloween
9. Let the Right One In
10. The Ring
11. The Innocents
12. Night of the Living Dead
13. The Birds
14. Les Diaboliques
15. The Haunting
16. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
17. Friday the 13th
18. Dawn of the Dead
19. Jaws
20. Hellraiser

Have a great Halloween.

NaNo Goodness

2010-10-11T15:09:00.003+10:00

I have signed up for NaNo again and you can find me here if you’re also keen to spend the month of November typing at a crazy pace. Last year was my first NaNo and I loved it so much I’m diving in again. Last year’s story is still awaiting editing but I’m okay with that. It’s not going anywhere and as much as I love it I’m keen to get another down while the basics are still fresh in my head. Then I can put that one aside, do another edit on The Corpse Butterfly and then either edit last year’s NaNo story or this year’s—not sure yet which one will win out.

As I’ve mentioned before the title of this NaNo project is The Tortured Winter and it’s a dark Gothic tale of delicious family secrets and betrayals that’s going to make my main character, Gia, wish she’d never married in haste.

I’ve been making notes here and there and have started to put them all into one notebook ready for November 1. Every day brings a new little idea that has me smiling like an evil overlord as I plot and plan to deliver poor Gia into the depths of sibling rivalry gone feral. The story is set in one of my fictional towns, high in the mountains overlooking the towns where The Corpse Butterfly and other stories are set.

So, if you’re planning on doing NaNo this year, good luck and feel free to add me as a friend.

Chapters & The Haunting of James Hastings

2010-10-06T13:46:00.003+10:00

Every now and then I read a book that blows me away and leaves me thinking about it for weeks after. Sometimes longer. It happened with Christopher Ransom’s first book The Birthing House and also with his second, The Haunting of James Hastings which was not long ago released. It’s the story of a man dealing with the fallout from his wife’s death and it’s a deliciously strange and macabre read that will have you completely absorbed from beginning to end.

Chris has such a brutal yet haunting way with words that have me devouring the pages wanting to tear through to the end, yet wanting to savour the story so I can properly enjoy it. His characters are a little off-key—which I love—and just when you expect them to go in one direction they tear off in another. In both books the main characters are wonderfully flawed and their unpredictability makes a dark read even darker.

If you haven’t yet read either book I recommend you get your hot little hands on them as I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

And on to what I’ve been working on—I’ve talked before about being fearful of missing something while I’m editing The Corpse Butterfly and leaving a gaping hole in the plot and no matter how many times I edit it I’m going to somehow miss it. I’m part of a brilliant critique group who always pick up any nasty little discrepancies and last meeting one of the girls pulled me up on a scene which was sadly lacking in impact when it should have blown the reader away. I didn’t see it because I was so worried about the beginning of the chapter and spent several days agonising over that to the point that I completely missed seeing what I hadn’t done. So Chapters 31 and 32 need a little more tweaking but I’ll fix that up on the next draft/read through. Meanwhile, I’m chugging along in Chapter 33 and thinking about Chapters 34 and 35. I hope to have them in the bag by the middle of next week and spend the remainder of the month working on the final three. Ah, the best laid plans...

October

2010-10-01T09:21:00.001+10:00

September finished with me being that much closer to finishing the edit of The Corpse Butterfly. Only a couple of chapters to go now and I’m currently threading through the logistics of the final scenes. It’s both exciting and nerve wracking because I’m happy with the ending but also conscious of trying not to miss anything out or leave any loose ends.

This week, aside from working on said chapters I’ve barely been able to put down the book I’m reading—A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray. I tell you, some of those YA books are bloody excellent. I’ve also narrowly escaped a dose of pneumonia thanks to my hot water system dying. The new one is coming on Sunday and all I can say is thanks be to the powers that it didn’t die in the midst of winter otherwise I’d have relocated to another dwelling.

And, as I say nearly every month lately—I should really just cut and paste from previous months although that would be rather lazy and boring—this month will be spent editing those final chapters of The Corpse Butterfly and also making copious notes for my NaNo book, The Tortured Winter.

Anyway, happy October, and happy writing.

30 Days of Books in 1 Day

2010-09-29T12:45:00.003+10:00

Katey first tackled this one, then BT and now I’ve given it a go. Like BT I decided to do it all in one hit, started on it a few weeks ago and, well, I’ve been arsing about so much I’ve only just now finished it. The arsing about has been somewhat productive though as I managed to get some more editing done, so all was not lost. I love a good Meme and enjoyed this one, even though it took me a little while to get through it. Damn those time management skills.

Anyway, here goes...

Day 01 – A book series you wish had gone on longer OR a book series you wish would just freaking end already (or both!)

I’m going to have to say Harry Potter—I wish it could have gone on forever. I only picked up these books last year and devoured them one after the other.

Day 02 – A book or series you wish more people were reading and talking about

The Haunting of James Hastings by Christopher Ransom. I’ll be blogging about this book soon because it’s fantastic, as was Chris’s first book, The Birthing House.

Day 03 – The best book you’ve read in the last 12 months

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane.

Day 04 – Your favourite book or series ever

This changes with the weather but at the moment I’d say Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I first read it in high school and was very much drawn to this story with the mad wife in the attic.

Day 05 – A book or series you hate

I can’t think of a book or series that I’ve actually hated.

Day 06 – Favourite book of your favourite series OR your favourite book of all time

See Day 4.

Day 07 – Least favourite plot device employed by way too many books you actually enjoyed otherwise

Long and convoluted flashbacks—I like a flashback but not one that overstays its welcome.

Day 08 – A book everyone should read at least once

It by Stephen King.

Day 09 – Best scene ever

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier – Mrs Danvers’ cruel parody in having Mrs De Winter dress in a gown Rebecca wore to her last fancy dress ball before she died and Maxim, upon seeing her in his dead first wife’s dress, demanding that she go upstairs and change.

Day 10 – A book you thought you wouldn’t like but ended up loving

Honestly can’t think of one.

Day 11 – A book that disappointed you

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters.

Day 12 – A book or series of books you’ve watched more than five times

I assume this means the movie version of a book. If so, I’d have to say The Godfather or Shutter Island.

Day 13 – Favourite childhood book OR current favourite YA book (or both!)

I’d have to agree with BT and say The Famous Five. I so wanted to hang out with those guys. I also loved Little Women, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and Lemony Snicket.

Day 14 – Favourite character in a book (of any sex or gender)

Mary Katherine Blackwood in We Have Always Lived in the Castle.

Day 15 – Your “comfort” book

Misery by Stephen King.

Day 16 – Favourite poem or collection of poetry

Not a fan of poetry.

Day 17 – Favourite story or collection of stories (short stories, novellas, novelettes, etc.)

The Complete Stories by Flannery O’Connor

Day 18 – Favourite beginning scene in a book

Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

Day 19 – Favourite book cover (bonus points for posting an image!)

Tethered by Amy Mackinnon. I see both calmness and desperation about the woman floating.

Day 20 – Favourite kiss

Welcome to Temptation by Jennifer Crusie.

Day 21 – Favourite romantic/sexual relationship (including asexual romantic relationships)

Jane Eyre and Rochester.

Day 22 – Favourite non-sexual relationship (including asexual romantic relationships)

Tom Ripley and Dickie Greenleaf (The Talented Mr Ripley)

Day 23 – Most annoying character ever

Bella Swan.

Day 24 – Best quote from a novel

The Godfather by Mario Puzo – “Mr Corleone is a man who insists on hearing bad news at once.” Tom Hagen.

Day 25 – Any five books from your “to be read” stack

The Parasites by Daphne Du Maurier
The Little Friend by Donna Tartt
The Sound & The Fury by William Faulkner
Rebel Angels by Libba Bray
The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray

Day 26 – OMG WTF? OR most irritating/awful/annoying book ending

The Little Strange by Sarah Waters.

Day 27 – If a book contains ______, you will always read it (and a book or books that contain it)!

Dark secrets and betrayal.

Day 28 – First favourite book or series obsession

The Famous Five.

Day 29 – Saddest character death OR best/most satisfying character death (or both!)

Sonny Corleone, The Godfather (saddest).

Day 30 – What book are you reading right now?

A Great & Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray.

Eleanor Rigby, you saved my chapter

2010-09-22T12:28:00.001+10:00

It’s a song I always knew existed but never wondered about too much—until two nights ago when I heard it on the radio. It triggered something that basically helped me with the slump I’ve been in over one of my chapters. This isn’t the first time music has lifted me out of a hole. Over time, thanks to The White Stripes, Bob Dylan and Jethro Tull (just to name a few) I’ve been carried away from the rut my stories have at times fallen into. Beethoven even saved a short story once. The haunting lyrics of Eleanor Rigby helped and last night I scribbled furiously as I re-wrote the chapter which is now much more readable than the tripe it was a few days ago. And—I’m sure my neighbours would be thanking me if they knew—thanks to MP3 I can play the same song over and over again and not bother the hell out of anyone like I used to. Although who wouldn’t want to hear Eleanor Rigby over fifty times in a row? Really.

Now, for today’s reading pleasure head over to Everyday Weirdness for Aaron Polson’s weird tale, Bona Fide King of His Realm. A great read.

Friday

2010-09-17T09:36:00.001+10:00

Another week has passed and I’ve made slow progress. I managed to edit another chapter but am still behind. I’m not beating myself up too much though because there is progress and I’m still working towards the end which is getting nearer and nearer (and so is NaNo and the exciting story I have planned—well I think it’s exciting, we’ll see how it turns out). I met a really great guy recently and have been spending a lot of time with him so a few things have gone by the wayside but I’m not complaining :)

This weekend there probably won’t be a lot of writing done but I’ve been using my lunch breaks more constructively and even managed to edit another short story yesterday. Wonders never cease. I might actually finally make my sub to The Red Penny Papers soon. And speaking of which...

Head on over to The Red Penny Papers to read Aaron Polson’s tale, Black Medicine Thunder and the Sons of Chaos. Another superb story from Aaron by a quality publication. Enjoy.

And have a great weekend.

Words Gone

2010-09-03T12:41:00.005+10:00

Last night I stripped over 9,000 words from the fourth quarter of The Corpse Butterfly. There was some total crap in the first draft and I can’t believe how watery and weak the ending was. Still, at least there was something to fix and I’ve started working on it. The ending I have planned has the same outcome but the journey is messier (in a good way) and darker and generally unpleasant for everyone involved. My main character is about to enter an even darker realm than I had originally planned for her and I managed to figure out how to wrap up an earlier subplot that was still hanging out there with no resolution.

And speaking of short stories—well, I was thinking about them anyway (especially the ones I haven’t finished writing yet)—head on over to The Red Penny Papers for their very first issue. Aaron Polson and Cate Gardner both have two very dark and fabulous stories in this volume. It’s a great publication and well worth checking out.

September

2010-09-01T08:46:00.002+10:00

Editing the last chapters of The Corpse Butterfly are taking forever. Or maybe it’s me not working fast enough. Either way it’s September already and I’m almost afraid to check my goals because I know I’m way behind and am going to have to go like the clappers to get this book finished by November so that I can do NaNo. I still have all of September and October so when I look at it like that it seems that I’ll be able to do it. As long as I stay focussed.

So, for September I’ve set myself the goal of editing 4 of the last 8 chapters and then the final 4 in October. It’s a chapter a week, how hard can it be :)

As for August, I spent most of it arsing about with the idea of working on some short stories that never really took off. I’ll return to them later. I did edit 2 chapters of The Corpse Butterfly and did get some reading done but overall, not as much as I’d planned. Last night - an indication of how some of August really went - I curled up on the lounge and watched back to back repeats of NCIS. But I am sick at the moment so that's an excuse to veg out. Right?

Jamie Eyberg

2010-08-20T08:55:00.000+10:00

It’s a horrific and sad day when good people are taken from this earth. Jamie, a great guy and a talented writer, and his wife Ann were killed a few days ago, leaving behind two small children. I’ll miss you, Jamie. You were a great blogger buddy. A memorial fund has been set up here for Jamie’s children.

Editing for Procrastinators

2010-08-18T13:18:00.001+10:00

As I near the end of The Corpse Butterfly I’m starting to feel it all coming together. Finally. The process, long and drawn out as it’s been, has made me realise something: I actually enjoy editing. I used to despise it with a passion, would drag my heels and do anything else rather than edit. With this book though, something has triggered and I’ve actually been enjoying going over the chapters word by word and I’m loving watching the story come to life. I’ve tightened scenes, slashed scenes, learned a hell of a lot more about my characters and kneaded out a few plot holes. Then, a few days ago I got to thinking about the choreography for the final scene and I played it out in my head while I sat in bad traffic on my way to work. A few new things occurred to me and while I edged along at the pace of a crawling toddler I figured out how they would mesh in with the story. I’ve gone back over a few of the earlier chapters and fed the new bits in and overall, I feel a lot more confident about the ending now. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Finally.

Spreading the Strangeness

2010-08-12T12:42:00.005+10:00

Thanks to Katey for bestowing the Strange Men in Pinstriped Suits Blog Award to pimp Cate Gardner’s most exciting new publication of short stories Strange Men in Pinstripe Suits which you can pre-order here and save some dollars for getting in early.

Also, Cate is running a contest here and as they say, you have to be in it to win it, so enter now.

You know you want to.

Gorilla Mountain

2010-08-06T12:41:00.001+10:00

This is another picture taken on my recent research trip. It’s of Mount Tibrogargan, situated in the Glass House Mountains National Park. When I was a kid the road north veered close to the base of the mountain and my brother and I always thought it looked like a giant gorilla. I always pictured it waiting until we got past and then leaping after us and picking up the car, King Kong style, and shaking the absolute bejesus out of us like some crazy sideshow ride. Now the road north detours most of the small towns and you only get this close by taking the scenic tour, which as we all know if you have the time it’s much better than taking the main highway.

Endings

2010-08-04T12:59:00.002+10:00

Endings are the part of a story I struggle with the most. Beginnings are usually fine and the middles okay but the endings, they can be painful. And I know I’ve probably whinged about this before, but on Sunday, I came up with an ending for The Broken Juggler. It did not come easy and involved copious amounts of screwed up balls of paper flying through the air (I find it easier to work these things out longhand rather than on a screen). So, a draft is done. I’m letting it sit for a while and going back to editing The Corpse Butterfly and thinking about an ending for Marigold and the Ivory Tea Monkey. In relation to that story, I sort of know how I want it to end but I just need a really explosive scene. Perseverance is hard for an impatient cretin such as myself.

Mountain High

2010-07-30T12:17:00.003+10:00

This is a photo I took driving down a bloody steep mountain (about half way down) on a recent research trip. The view is of Lake Baroon. This is the area I have used to base my fictional towns (my lake is called Lake Superstition and is a much larger lake than Lake Baroon, and the towns that sit either side of it are called Superstition and Indigo). Whoever decided to build a road straight down a mountain like that must have been mad in the head. I didn’t think my trusty old Corolla would make it back up—we held our breath and leaned forward—but she did. Just.

PS Please let it be noted that I did stop the car to take the photo :)

The Fury of Writing

2010-07-26T13:01:00.003+10:00

When it’s going good it’s very, very good but when it’s going bad it’s bleeding from the eyes bad. I spent a good portion of the weekend trying to get three short stories finished. I started something new on Saturday morning, which is a project with my crit group—we each contribute 1,000 words to a story started by one person and handed around—I’m the third person to receive it—and basically you can do whatever you want with it, go in whatever direction you want, in any style, shape or form. I wrote the 1,000 words easily enough (just under 1,000 words actually) and put it aside, feeling very inspired and ready to tackle the short stories that mock me with their elusive endings.

They continue to mock me.

I put them aside.

Instead, I worked on The Corpse Butterfly and edited another chapter. I’m getting very close to the end of it now and while I was starting to be sick of the sight of it I have a renewed excitement over it and can’t wait to get to the end so I can give it another read through before sending it out to agents.

And of course I also managed to fit in some reading over the weekend. I finished a book by a fellow Aussie author – Madigan Mine by Kirstyn McDermott. It’s a dark tale of obsession brought to life with rich description and dialogue that suck you right into the story. If you get a chance to get your hands on a copy of this book you should do so because once I started I couldn’t put it down.

Living to Read

2010-07-20T10:14:00.001+10:00

When people tell me they’re not big readers or don't read at all, I shake my head. I love to read. I live to read. And when I’m reading a particularly good book I’ll continue reading it while I cook dinner or do the washing. I’ll read when I wake up, sometimes during my lunch break and always at night before I go to sleep. If it was possible for me to be able to catch the bus to work—not easy with the shitty transport system we have here in Brisbane—I’d read on the bus too, thus avoiding the “nightmare highway” I travel every morning.

When people tell me they don’t have time to read I think of all of the incredible stories they will never discover. Okay, so you can watch the movie—if one has been made—but I don’t think it’s the same. How many times have we heard “the book is better”? That’s because it usually is. Reading to me is a world of discovery, of escapism and pure enjoyment.

My “To Be Read” pile grows steadily higher and wonkier as I discover more and more books that I absolutely have to read (it also has something to do with a little obsession I have with The Book Depository) but I can’t imagine not having all of my books around me, inspiring me, stories yet to discover and stories I can revisit any time I like.

I love to read.

Where it Began

2010-07-16T08:36:00.002+10:00

Behold my first typewriter. It’s a little beauty isn’t it (well, it was back in the day). I banged out quite a few stories on the old girl before I upgraded to an electric typewriter and then to a computer. My mum gave me this typewriter for Christmas one year (I think I was around 14) and I used to write stories and give them to my friends to read. I still have those stories buried away at the back of my wardrobe. They’re so bad they’re hilarious, but I can’t bear to throw them out.

J'aime la France

2010-07-14T09:00:00.002+10:00

I have a love affair with France. I’ve been lucky enough to go there twice now and there is something very special about that place that just makes me want to keep going back. I could even handle living there for a while. Who wouldn’t want to live in one of those cool lofts, writing and drinking coffee, wandering the streets looking for inspiration, dining out on delicious food and wine.

I love Paris itself, Montmartre, the cafes, the Louvre, the artists, Notre Dame, baguettes, St Germain, the coffee, the architecture, Edith Piaf, wine and the museums. But I also love the countryside, Versailles, the history, Avignon, St Paul de Vence, chateaus. I could go on about it all day and not get bored. Strangely enough, though I’ve never set a story there. Hmmmm.

Happy Bastille Day :)

Now, in a completely unrelated matter but definitely worth mentioning, check out Cate Gardner’s most excellent and dark flash fiction piece, The Senic Path of Human Aretfacts over at 52 Stitches.

Friday

2010-07-09T09:29:00.003+10:00

I’ve just finished another draft of An Attic in Hell. I really love this story although I’m not quite sure where to send it yet so I’ll have a bit of a search around online over the next few days and hopefully find somewhere suitable.

I’ve hit a brick wall with Marigold & the Ivory Tea Monkey, Absinthe for the Soul and The Broken Juggler, so I’ve put them aside for a week or so and will come back to them, hopefully with some inspiration—basically it’s the same problem with each of them, I have a beginning, a middle and a bit of a shitty ending.

So, in a salute to procrastination, I’ve been digging through old photos, moving them from slides onto disk and I was trying to upload a photo this morning but blogger photos is being completely uncooperative and won't let me upload anything. I guess it's just kind of like my brain at the moment with endings :)

Have a great weekend.

July

2010-07-02T13:08:00.002+10:00

Half way through the year already and I’m sorta-kinda on track with goals. The editing is going well, I have a few new short stories written and am working on a few others, so I really can’t complain (except that time is racing by so bloody fast it leaves one almost dizzy).

This month, as well as editing The Corpse Butterfly (the end is coming!) I’m also working on a new story for The Red Penny Papers (The Broken Juggler), I also plan to finish writing Marigold and the Ivory Tea Monkey and Absinthe for the Soul. I’m still waiting (impatiently) to hear back on a couple of stories that have been out there for a while and that’s about it really.

Have a great weekend everyone (I’m going to rug up and write—it’s deliciously freezing here at the moment).

P.S. Next week I'll post some photos of my research trip up into the mountains last weekend.

Reminiscing

2010-06-29T12:50:00.001+10:00

One of my oldest friends and I went to see the A-Team the other night. I’ve been so excited about seeing this movie as it was one of mine and my brother’s favourite shows when we were kids—B A Baracus was my brother’s favourite and I always loved Murdock (even then I had a soft spot for the nuttier characters). It was exactly as I’d hoped—over the top shoot-outs, far-fetched chases reminiscent of 80’s action movies, not to mention the corny humour they threaded through it. I used to like the action films back in the day—most of the newer movies don’t impress me so much—and I really loved this movie.

Now I’m thinking back to all of those old TV shows that I loved when I was a kid—Happy Days, CHiP’s, Mork & Mindy, Cheers, Hawaii Five 0, Starsky & Hutch, Facts of Life, The Cosby Show, B J & the Bear, Growing Pains, The Incredible Hulk. I could go on and on. Tell me some of your favourites from back in the day.

Rain -v- Cold

2010-06-23T11:58:00.000+10:00

Today it’s raining and it’s cold. I can’t decide which I prefer more so I’ll just say that I love them equally. Of course I’d much rather be at home writing or reading in this kind of weather but I’m at work, staring longingly out the window.

There has been much editing done over the last few days. The Corpse Butterfly is nearing the end of its second draft and I spent last night giving The Strange & the Exquisite a bit of a going over. I also have the beginnings of a story in mind for KV Taylor’s. The Red Penny Papers. Submissions are welcome after 1 September so head on over and have a look.

High School Revisited

2010-06-16T12:37:00.000+10:00

I was working on a new short story over the long weekend, Marigold and the Ivory Tea Monkey—there was also plenty of editing done, as planned, on The Corpse Butterfly—and I had my character making a decision based on something that had happened to her in high school. Then I got to thinking—would I have made a decision like that? It didn’t really matter though because I’m nothing like my character. Although she had a perfectly good reason for doing what she did, she now has the chance to go back and change what happened in order to stop something even more horrible happening in the future (her present day). Does that make sense? It does in my head, anyway.

Her high school years were a lot more intense than mine—her time there was downright dark—and she was more of an industrious student than I was, which then led to a little reminiscing about my high school years where I treated most of my time there as one big social event. I snoozed my way through maths (I’ve never liked numbers), science was something to try and avoid at all costs, and I’m so badly uncoordinated that I consider the word “sport” to be the foulest of all words (and yes, I was the person who was always picked last for compulsory team sports). English, theatre and art interested me greatly—I looked forward to book reports, loved studying Shakespeare and was quite unremarkable art-wise but enjoyed it.

While I had a great time overall, there’s no way in hell I’d ever want to go back. Marigold has to go back though, otherwise she’ll lose someone she loves very dearly.

Friday

2010-06-11T12:25:00.002+10:00

A week has passed and I’ve done very little writing wise. I’ve had another one of those joyous migraines which kind of take the fun out of everything and put me way behind. I’ve not done nearly half as much editing as I wanted which gets me a little steamed under the collar, but we have a long weekend coming up so I’ll try and make up for it.

I thought I’d share with you another photo I took on the beach - while we were at the retreat - of a hibiscus flower that one of the girls had picked from a tree. I think it came out quite well.

Retreat

2010-06-03T08:35:00.008+10:00

Last Friday I travelled up to the Sunshine Coast with my crit group, half of us in the morning and half that night. We workshopped, wrote, ate, laughed, had a few drinks, walked along the beach, ate, managed to fit in a little shopping, ate, gave each other awards and best of all, we got inspired. It was a great weekend and I look forward to doing it again next year.

I came away from it with a completed short story, a new story idea, and other notes. That alone has got to be a good thing, but there were also many laughs had and that always makes for a good weekend. One of my favourites was my character “dropping his eyes”. There was then much laughter as we envisaged a man with empty eye sockets scarpering around trying to locate his bouncing eyeballs.

The first photo is of my collage from the workshop I held. I started with absolutely no ideas at all and as I tore pictures from magazines a story slowly began to form in my head. I’ve titled it The Hideous Jinx. You might look at the collage and think how happy and free it all looks. It’s a BEFORE collage. Things are about to take a very dark turn for these people. Their way of life as they know it is over. Well, down the track anyway, as I don’t have the time to write it now, even though my pen itches to make more copious notes.

The second is our working space inside the apartment and the third and fourth photos were taken just over the road from our hotel. That morning it was very overcast and by the time we went for a walk after lunch it was beginning to clear—you can see the sun’s paltry attempt to come out.

Thanks again to my fellow Hells Belles for a fantastic

weekend :)

June

2010-06-01T13:18:00.001+10:00

Hmmm. May. How fast you went. There was much work done though. I am freshly back from the writer’s retreat with my crit group which I will post about tomorrow or the next day and it finished off May very nicely indeed. I managed to write a 3,000 word short story (The Strange & The Exquisite) while we were up there and also have a rough plot for another story. The rest of May was spent editing and editing. I received no rejections, so fingers crossed for the stories still out there.

June brings more editing and research. I finished researching the twenties (for the short story I wrote on the weekend) and am back to cults (for The Corpse Butterfly). It’s the first month of winter over here and as I speak I’m all rugged up although my feet are a little cold as I have kicked my shoes off, as usual. Here is a list of what will be edited this month:

1. More chapters of The Corpse Butterfly
2. The Strange & The Exquisite
3. An Attic in Hell

And now for some more coffee...

Lies, and more Lies...

2010-05-26T13:10:00.002+10:00

I've been nominated by the lovely Cassidy Hunter for the creative blogger award, otherwise known as the Bald Faced Liar award. I was nominated for this award a few months back and created some outrageously outrageous lies and one truth.

Here are some new ones...

1. I’m obsessive compulsive and must check everything five times before I’m satisfied.

2. I have 17 gnomes in my garden.

3. I love the colour green and have been known to be a little silly about purchasing things
only in green.

4. I can type 230 words per minute.

5. I once roller skated across Australia to raise money for charity.

6. My eyes are different colours (one hazel, one blue).

7. I was raised in a cult and escaped when I was 18.

See if you can guess which one is the truth. And as for nominating, I choose anyone who wants to have a go.

Winter Welcome

2010-05-21T08:30:00.001+10:00

Well, it’s not quite winter yet, but it feels like it. And that makes me happy. Winter is my favourite time of year. I think I’ve blogged about it before, and I know we don’t suffer the snow, and the intense cold and the blizzards here but it still gets pretty cold. Some of my favourite things about winter, apart from curling up under the blankets with a hot cup of coffee and a good book are winter coats, fresh cold morning air, new boots, an excuse to drink more coffee because it’s cold, sleeping in because there’s no boiling hot sun beating down trying to bake you, and no doubt more that I’ll think of later.

One of my favourite places to write in winter is in bed, with the warm glow of lamplight, all snug and warm while it’s freezing cold outside. This is a picture of writing bliss, and you’ll also see my new laptop, all loaded up and ready for my upcoming writer’s retreat.

The Lazy Researcher

2010-05-17T10:30:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I did something I haven’t done for some time and that was researching. I needed to do it for The Corpse Butterfly and so I actually hunted down some research books and of course used that little gem called the Interweb as I now have it on my mobile phone and god help me, I can go online on weekends.

The thought of actually researching makes me grind my teeth but once I got going it was all good. There were some interesting discoveries as well and I got so inspired I edited another whole chapter. All in all it was quite a successful day.

Sanctuary

2010-05-07T13:30:00.004+10:00

I want to tell you about a new release from my friend, Jane E Jones writing as Cassidy Hunter.

Sanctuary, an erotic paranormal, is a dark tale of discovery and lust. Jane has a talent for pulling the reader in and keeping them gripped firmly in rich and layered stories of strong and intriguing characters. One of the first of Jane’s stories I read was Beauty’s Beast, a different spin on a classic tale, and I remember being unable to put it down as well.

So if you like a good spicy, adventure packed read, head on over to Loose ID and get yourself a copy. I thoroughly recommend this one. And best of all, there is a sequel coming.

May

2010-05-05T15:30:00.002+10:00

Oh, what a mad couple of days I’ve just had. Work is insanely busy and since I only have the internet on at work I’ve had hardly any time to surf—lunch breaks have been practically non-existent. Plus, we just had our Labour Day long weekend, during which I did actually get some writing done among other things.

Overall I was pretty happy with how April went, writing wise. I submitted two short stories and entered one competition and have so far received one rejection, plus another rejection on a story I submitted nearly a year ago. Also, more chapters of The Corpse Butterfly were edited.

This month I’ll be concentrating on editing – The Corpse Butterfly, An Attic In Hell and if I get time, The Pennyroyal. I submitted The Pennyroyal to two different places last year and after it was rejected I just left it sitting. I read through it again recently and there’s something just not right about it so I think I’ll give it a good going over and send it back out.

The end of this month sees me heading off on a writer’s retreat with my crit group. We’re heading up to the north coast to an apartment overlooking the beach and will spend the weekend madly writing (we’ll be working on our short stories taken from inspiration at the cemetery—I have already plotted mine out and have an ending! (wonders never cease) and a title - The Strange & The Exquisite) and doing a few inspiring workshops. We always have a great time when we get together so there will be many laughs and stories shared, a few drinks and there will also be some writing done.

The Head Lockout

2010-04-28T12:21:00.000+10:00

I love to write about the darker side of human nature, what people are capable of and why. I love to get into their heads and learn their motivations and discover what’s going to happen next. With the good guy, it’s not always so easy. For me anyway. And don’t ask me why, because I have absolutely no bloody idea why. All I know is that if I’m not careful, my good guys sometimes come across as boring, uninteresting types and the secondary characters start taking over.

It’s happening at the moment—I’ve fallen out of my main character Lily’s head and I can’t get back in. It shouldn’t seem like such a hard thing to do. Right? I’ve tried stream of consciousness, I’ve tried first person. Maybe I’m just overthinking it because I’m too close to it. Or maybe I just find it easier to get into the heads of my darker characters. A scary thought.

And since I’ve been thinking about it and struggling with it, I’ve read KC Shaw’s latest blog post and she’s given me an idea. KC posted about the pros and cons of creating a character blog and I was thinking that rather than creating a character blog for Lily, I think I’ll create her journal, purely for myself, purely to help tap into her inner thoughts. Anything’s worth a try. Especially if it gets me back on track.

Hell's Headache

2010-04-21T16:55:00.002+10:00

About two or so years ago I started getting migraines. I never thought of them as migraines at first, they were just whopping-great-sons-of-bitches-of-headaches, the ones that make you feel like your skull cap is going to pop off, and then there’s the vomiting, and you get the drift.

I had a bad one a few days ago that forced me home from work and into bed where I couldn’t stand light or TV or reading or writing or any kind of noise. I’m back on deck now though and though I’m way behind, have jumped into editing The Corpse Butterfly, which is giving me no end of grief at the moment—a lovely follow on from said migraine :) I will prevail though.

Oh, and I got a very nice rejection from Necrotic Tissue for The Witching Hour. I’ve taken their advice on board and will give it another good going over and sub it somewhere else, but I was quite chuffed that they thought it was a well written story. I must be doing something a little bit right.

For reading this week, check out BT’s dark flash fiction story, Swept Away, over at 52 Stitches. Definitely worth the trip over.

Also worth checking out is Cate Gardner’s interview over at Choate Road, which has a lovely picture of her that I’m not supposed to have seen or commented on :)

Cemetery Inspiration

2010-04-13T14:00:00.004+10:00

For those of you not yet bored with the cemetery photos, I’ve posted some more below.

I don’t know if I’ve said it before, but one of the things I love most about cemeteries—aside from the plethora of inspiration—is the fact that it’s so peaceful. Even when we went on a night-time tour last year I found it calm and peaceful. I’d fully expected to be a little spooked (okay, a lot—not that it wasn’t part of the allure) about wandering around a cemetery at night but it had the opposite effect. And it was the same recently. Toowong Cemetery is on a very busy road but the further in you go, the more the noises of the outside world are muted until you hear nothing but the wind rustling the long grass and the occasional bird. So, not only is it a great place for finding inspiration, it’s also good for thinking and setting the story in motion.

I’ll post more about the actual story I’m writing later as the idea is still in its earliest form.

Also, if you want to be in the running to win a book—and let’s face it, who doesn’t—head on over to Aaron Polson’s blog where he’s running a contest to win a copy of The Devils Food. All details are over there. And good luck.

Chocolate Overdose

2010-04-07T08:17:00.006+10:00

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter and gorged themselves on as much chocolate as I did. I think I ate more over the weekend than I do all year. In fact, I'm still working my way through the stash as we speak.

There was zero writing done although I did finish reading two books and I managed to pick up a copy of Horns by Joe Hill in a newsagency in my mum’s hometown—where we had a lovely time—after having not been able to hunt down a copy in the city (can you believe it). I started reading it last night and I’m going to have to pace myself otherwise there will be no writing done this week either.

I’ve posted some more photos of the cemetery field trip below. Will post a more in the next few days.

April

2010-04-01T08:12:00.006+10:00

I love hearing about pranks on April Fool’s Day, so if anyone has suffered at the hands of this day of trickery I’d love to hear about it.

I’m winding down for Easter and will be off line for the next few days during which I will be catching up with family and hopefully also managing to get in some writing and reading. But we will see.

March saw me submit one story, which I think was about the same as the month before from memory. This month I plan to ramp things up a bit and submit the four short stories that have been languishing on my desk. Each of them have been rejected and await a bit of a tweaking before being sent out again. And I’ll edit The Corpse Butterfly.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, I give you some photos taken at the cemetery last Sunday (more to come). The story I plan to work on revolves around a headstone where a husband buried his second wife only five years after he buried his first wife (not pictured here). And yes, he buried them in the same grave. Oh, the possibilities.

Have a safe and happy Easter and enjoy the Chocolate.

Cemetery Field Trip

2010-03-29T13:38:00.001+10:00

Yesterday my crit group went to Toowong Cemetery, the biggest and one of the oldest cemeteries in Brisbane. Last year we did a tour at night with an organised group but yesterday we turned up in costume to research characters for short stories we’re all going to write. Why in costume, you ask? Because we were dressed for the era in which our story will be set. Mine is the 20’s and I was looking for a character who had died in that decade, preferably someone in their early to mid 20’s and preferably female. And I found her. Well, one of my friends did actually, and I can’t wait to write about her. There is so much inspiration to be found among the old headstones and we spent a couple of hours wandering among the graves, making notes, taking down information. I also managed to take 103 photos (I’ll post a few of them soon).

Writing wise, not much done over the weekend. I have five short stories sitting on my desk waiting for me to give them a going over and The Corpse Butterfly is also waiting impatiently for me to continue editing. My flash fiction story Red Shoes is up at 52 Stitches this week so head on over and check it out and let me know what you think.

Sister Sunday & Red Shoes

2010-03-25T11:25:00.006+10:00

My flash fiction story Red Shoes will be posted at 52 Stitches on Sunday and so I thought I’d post the first story I wrote about Mia, titled Sister Sunday. It appeared in Sinister Tales last year and provides a bit of background of the events that led Mia to where she is now. Enjoy.

Sister Sunday

Mia Millington had a secret.

It was the big fat juicy kind that burned a hole in your soul. Once revealed, it would shatter the excitement of the weekend’s festivities. How surprised they’d all be. If she had to wait much longer though, the anticipation might choke her. She’d spill it like a kid sicking up its lunch after a sideshow ride.

Mia giggled and clapped her hands. Everyone would be so shocked.

She turned the first corner of the maze, hearing voices outside the twisted turns of the green hedges. No one else had better be in the maze. Not now.

It was her maze. Well, hers and Sunday’s. People didn’t usually bother going in, and if they did they only got lost. There were two people in this world who could find their way to the heart of the maze and out again without taking one wrong turn: Mia and Sunday.

Mia knew she could do it blindfolded. That was a thought; maybe she’d try it. She could use the sash from her ugly pink dress as a blindfold. Why would they make her wear such a horrible colour? Everyone knew red was her favourite, but today she’d been forced to wear pink. Pink didn’t make her happy at all.

She counted eighteen steps and turned left. Finding her way through the maze was about counting. Thirty steps in, turn right. Twelve steps, turn left. Another nine steps, another left turn, and so on. It was simple, as long as she didn’t lose count.

Most people lost count.

They were silly and didn’t deserve to get to the middle. They deserved to be lost and spend eternity trying to get out, panicking as they raced through the corridors, blindly taking wrong turns.

Mia had told Sunday to meet her there at 1.30. And Sunday owed her. Yes, indeedy, more than she’d ever know. For a long time Mia had put up with having a sister who was never meant to be. Her younger and less pretty sister had been named for the day she was born—an hour before her untimely entrance into the world their father had walked out of their lives. In her post-natal hysteria, their mother had named the screaming red-faced baby Sunday.

Mia had always been suspicious of this child who was born out of sorrow. She herself had been born in the glory days of weekends at the beach house and nights of romance and wine. That was what her mother told her and so it had to be true. This new baby cried so much Mia used to think she’d flood the house with her tears. Mia would pinch the baby, hoping to quieten it down, but it only made the child worse.

Nothing had changed.

Sunday was still crying and whining.

Mia took a right at the end of the corridor and quickened her pace, hoping Sunday wasn't going to be late. She didn’t like people who were late. Dilly-dallying was for lazy people. Skipping in time to her favourite song, she counted her steps and smiled. Poor Sunday didn’t have a clue. She didn’t realise she was an albatross around everyone’s neck. Albatross was a word her aunt used to describe her uncle and Mia thought it suited Sunday as well.

Eighteen steps and turn right. Today Sunday was supposed to marry Owen. Silly Sunday thought he loved her, but she was wrong about that. She was wrong about a lot of things.

Mia had loved Owen for most of her life, but sometimes she hated him nearly as much. She’d forgiven him for choosing Sunday and now he was getting a chance to make things right. What a surprise he’d soon get. How he would smile when he realised.

As she made her second last turn she heard Sunday’s horsey laugh ahead of her. Mia could picture her, laughing at something completely silly. She itched to slap the smile off her sister’s moon shaped face.

‘Mia, is that you?’

‘Coming.’ Mia answered. She counted sixteen steps. There would be cake tonight. Lovely cake with white icing and maybe some sprinkles. She might even have ice cream with it. Vanilla. She’d kissed Owen once while he was sleeping and he’d tasted of vanilla ice cream.

Mia knew why Sunday was marrying Owen. It was spite. She knew Mia wanted him and she took him for herself. Sunday hated her, and all her life she’d been waiting for the chance to get one up on her older sister, always jealous . Maybe deep down Sunday knew their mother hadn’t had the energy to cope with such a needy child. Maybe she knew their mother didn’t love her as much as she loved Mia. Knowledge could be an evil thing.

Voices came and went, ruptured the walls of the maze. They didn’t concern Mia, they were outside. No threat at all.

She turned the last corner.

‘There you are.’ Sunday had that patronising expression on her face. ‘What was so urgent that you had me come down here now? The ceremony is starting soon.’

Chocolate sprinkles. She’d have chocolate sprinkles on her cake. And two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

‘I…’ Mia was at a loss for words. It often happened to her, she’d know what she wanted to say then it would fly right out of her head.

‘What is it?’ Sunday was impatient.

Mia stared at her sister. She looked almost pretty. Nowhere near as pretty as me. Not good enough for Owen, and definitely not good enough to walk down an aisle where everyone would be disappointed they weren’t seeing Mia instead.

‘You look very nice.’ Mia eyed the beading on her sister’s tiara.

‘Nice.’ Sunday’s lip curled up in a sneer. ‘I should have known you wouldn’t be able to come up with anything more imaginative than nice.’

‘I’m sorry for you, Sunday.’ Mia smirked. She’d thought about this day often. Any spare thought was given to the possibilities of her sister’s expiry. Sometimes ideas came by the dozen, and other days not a single one.

‘Why are you sorry? And hurry up, I need to get back to the house to finish dressing.’

Mia looked at her sister's dress. It was the first time she’d seen it, so lovely and white with a lace overlay that was a million times prettier than Mia’s ugly pink dress. How unfair that Sunday should have the nicer dress.

‘Why do you think you were born?’ Mia focused her attention on the engagement ring on Sunday’s left hand. It was a large bauble, far too big for her bony, tapered fingers.

‘Born? Mia, I don’t have time for your stupid questions. I swear I don’t know where you come up with them. We have to get back. You haven’t even had your hair done yet.’

Mia fumed. She’d done her hair herself this morning, had taken extra care putting it up. Blood rushed to her head and heat filled her cheeks as she watched her sister walk away from her. She clenched her fists tightly and unclenched them. She didn’t need a stupid tiara in her hair to look pretty.

Sunday’s walking away. Stop her.

Mia tore the sash from the waistline of her ugly pink dress and raced forward. Sunday had almost reached the first turn when Mia rushed at her, pushing her down. Sunday screamed out as she hit the ground and before she could move, Mia threw herself down, pressing her knee into her sister's back.

‘What the hell are you doing? My dress?’

‘My dress.’ Mia giggled. ‘My dress!’

As Sunday flailed and kicked and tried to roll over, Mia held her down, looped the sash around her throat and knotted it. Sunday was mid-scream when Mia wrenched the sash tight, snorting with laughter as her sister gargled her words.

‘What are you trying to say?’ Mia leaned closer, holding her grip. ‘I can’t understand you.’

Sunday struggled violently, her hands clawing at the sash, but she’d always been weak and as much as she fought, she wasn’t strong enough to break Mia's grip.

‘Mmm…’

‘Speak up. I can’t hear you when you mumble.’ Mia held firm as the last breaths were sucked in and escaped from her sister’s body. She watched the vivid colours changing in her sister’s face with fascination. A kaleidoscope of reds, blues and purples.

‘Nooo…’ Sunday struggled and failed to draw breath. She gave one final shudder, then became still.

Mia watched through narrowed eyes, waiting to see if Sunday was tricking her. When there was no movement, no pulse, she relaxed her hold. It was over so quickly. One minute Sunday had been looking at her like she was the crazy one and now she was as limp as a ragdoll.

‘Goodbye, sister Sunday.’

When she was absolutely sure her sister wasn’t going to take another breath she stood up and waited a little longer, just to make sure. It wouldn’t do to have her wake up and ruin the surprise. She dusted off her hands and turned her face up to the sun. It must be getting closer to the time now.

She looked back at her sister and nudged her with her foot. Her earring was draped across her cheek at an odd angle and Mia smiled at how silly it looked. She’d finally put Sunday out of her misery. It was for the best. Owen would have only ended up hating her like everyone else did. She cast her sister a pitying glance. It couldn’t have been easy for Sunday, living in her shadow all these years.

She took a deep breath, grabbed her sister’s feet and dragged her body to the deepest part of the maze. It was her favourite spot in the whole world because it was partly shaded by an enormous tree. Here, she could sit and imagine she was the only person in the world.

It was Sunday’s place now.

Kneeling down, she unzipped the back of Sunday’s gown and rolled her sister onto her back. Her face had settled to a pale purple, like bruised flesh and Mia quickly stripped the dress from her sister's limp body. It would be too big on her, but that wouldn’t matter. Owen would be looking at her, not what she was wearing. The gown was just a symbol.

She began to perspire and stopped a minute to wipe her brow. It was one of those oppressive summer days where the dark clouds hung low and the humidity was so high you might self combust if you over-exerted. By the time she’d undressed her sister she was sweating heavily, and little droplets of water fell from her face onto her sister’s, hitting her lifeless skin and shattering. The poor thing was so pale; she had a skin condition and couldn’t go out in the sun.

Today was not a good day for her to be outside.

When she finished undressing Sunday she took off her ugly dress and roughly dressed Sunday. She struggled to shift her sister’s dead weight and when she’d finally got the dress on she sat back and rested a minute. The zipper wouldn’t budge, but that didn’t matter. Sunday wasn’t going anywhere. Mia giggled. The bright colour made her look even more washed out. Poor Sunday would spend eternity in a colour that didn’t suit her.

The long white gown slid easily over her own body and she clapped her hands. So many frills. So much better on her, she thought as she reached behind her to zip it up. As she danced a full circle she noticed the dirt on the front of the dress and rubbed it furiously with her hands, hoping it would brush off. Sunday had got it dirty.

Stupid girl.

Mia knelt down to take the large bauble from Sunday’s finger. What a laugh it was to have such a pretty ring. She held her hand up and twirled, smiling at how pretty it looked. Her mother liked nice things as well. How proud she would be when she saw Mia walking down the aisle. Sunday’s silver beaded strappy shoes caught her eye and she took them off her sister’s feet. They looked much better on her. Sunday didn't need shoes anymore.

A cloud passed overhead and she looked up, watching as the sun disappeared. She had no idea how long she’d been in the maze, but it was time to get back. They’d all be waiting. She gave her sister one final glance, and nudged her with her toe. Her expression didn’t change. Mia smiled. It was time to go. Everyone would be waiting for her in the chapel.

She walked eleven paces and turned left. Then fourteen steps and turned right. She counted in her mind, never out loud. In two minutes she’d be at the entrance to the maze. In another minute she’d be at the front door of the chapel. She hurried, not wanting to be late, giggling at how gullible her sister had been.

There was no time to check her appearance, and she had no bouquet, but she didn’t need one. Owen wouldn’t notice that she didn’t have flowers.

Her cousin, Travis, was waiting outside the chapel when she came out of the maze and she waved to him as she ran across the grass. He didn’t look quite so happy to see her and stalled as he looked from her dress to her.

‘Where’s Sunday?’ he asked. ‘What have you done?’

‘I haven’t done anything, silly.’ Mia brushed her hair off her face and took his arm. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me how pretty I look?’ She beamed

‘I think we should stop here.’ Travis halted on the worn cobblestone steps of the family chapel, built by one of their ancestors over a hundred years ago.

‘But it’s time.’ Mia tugged on his arm and forced him forward, into the coolness of the chapel. There were twenty five steps to the altar; she’d counted last night.

She heard the gasps as they turned to see her and thought they must be envious of her dress, of how pretty she looked. As she drew closer, she realised the looks on their faces weren’t from happiness but shock and horror. What was wrong with them? Why weren’t they smiling? Weren’t they happy for her?

Silly people were obviously jealous. Envy was a disease some people suffered from. Her mother had said so. With each step she took she could hear their whispering. Why did they look so horrified? They should be smiling, not covering their mouths with their hands.

‘Look at her.’ One woman didn’t bother to lower her voice. ‘Making trouble again. She was always the one to watch. Dangerous in her madness.’

‘Madness was always her middle name,’ said someone else. ‘They should have locked her up years ago. Instead they let her run around in public like there was nothing wrong with her.’

Mia stopped walking and hissed at them. Silly people. Were they blind? Couldn’t they see it was her, not Sunday. Now she’d lost count.

Owen stood at the end of the aisle and as their eyes met, Mia’s face broke into a huge smile. She mouthed, ‘I’m coming,’ and almost started to run. That wouldn’t do though, because she was always getting into trouble for running.

Her mother was waiting at the end of the aisle as well but as Mia raised her hand to wave, her mother started walking towards her. She looked terribly angry and Mia wondered what was wrong.

‘Where is your sister?’ Her mother grabbed her arm when she reached her, exasperation plain on her face. ‘What have you done?’

‘Poor thing couldn’t come.’ Mia giggled. ‘It’s okay though. We don’t need her Mama, do we? She was always in the way.’ Her giggle stopped to make way for a sly smile. ‘She’s in a better place now.’

‘What did you do?’ Her mother shouted.

‘Do you like my pretty dress?’ She twirled in front of her mother. ‘I can't wait for cake. Do you think they’ll let me have ice cream?’

Mia twirled away from her mother and stepped up beside Owen. He looked quite ill and she wondered why he didn’t seem pleased to see her. She heard harsh whispers and saw some of the guests were pointing at her. She hissed at them too. If they didn’t all start laughing soon and tell her how happy they were to see her they were going to ruin her day.

Didn’t they know that she was the girl for Owen.

Mia giggled.

Tonight she was having cake.

Soup: Or, Why I Never Go Into the Kitchen

2010-03-22T13:22:00.000+10:00

Yesterday I made vegetable soup. I had a craving for it and thought it was a great idea as there would be no need for cooking for the next few nights. And it’s healthy—as long as the actual cooking part doesn’t become dangerous. You see, I got it into my head to put some of the soup into the blender to make a sort of broth. Everything was fine until I put the lid on the blender and turned it on. Despite the fact that I was holding the lid down, it blew right off and coated both myself and the entire kitchen in HOT soup.

Yes, I am an idiot and clearly I do not belong in the kitchen.

I am uninjured, after applying ice to my face and arms.

The soup is surprisingly delicious.

Before the explosion and while I chopped and prepared, the ending for An Attic In Hell came to me with perfect clarity. I’d had a bit of an idea for it the other day, but now it’s fully formed and I have four days to polish, polish, polish.

On another note, I was reading this article from the UK Guardian that I somehow stumbled onto online and thought I’d post this link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2008/jan/11/bestukbookshops to the best book shops in the world. The one in Porto is my favourite but Buenos Aires comes a close second.

Monks & Traffic

2010-03-17T12:56:00.002+10:00

I was stuck in traffic on my way to work this morning and I got to thinking about monks. Don’t ask me how or why—and no, a monk did not walk/drive/cycle past—but I thought about their vows of silence (this was before I screamed at the moron who cut me off after coming within millimetres of t-boning my car). While I fumed, the traffic at a complete standstill, an idea for a short story began to grow, not actually about a monk, but about a vow of silence.

Never mind the fact that I’ve been tearing my hair out over An Attic in Hell—although I do have the beginnings of possible ending—I’m making notes for the new “monk” story and also aimlessly surfing the internet reading other writer’s blogs (this is how I spend most of my lunch hours when I’m supposed to be writing).

I shouldn’t complain about getting short story ideas as they’re hard to come by—every idea I get for a story seems to want to turn into War & Peace—but it’s funny how the mind wanders. Monks! Who would have thought?

So, I’ve made a deal with myself—get the “monk” story down and for the love of all things creepy and grotesque, work on Attic.

An Attic In Hell Update

2010-03-12T13:44:00.004+10:00

This is the collage that started the story. I couldn’t begin to imagine how many different angles I could take with these pictures, apart from the obvious, which I did not go with. We don’t strictly have to use every single picture in the story but I feel like I should.

Basically, the idea grew from the classified ad for the organ (using creative licence, I changed it to a piano) which acts as a portal that will transport my main character, Augustine, straight to hell (any sinners who play the piano are sent to hell to atone).

At this point in time, I still have no ending. It eludes me and poor Augustine is literally trapped in the pit fires of hell.

I have two weeks left.

Now, for a finished and excellent story, head over to 52 Stitches and read Edible Flowers Perched Above a Dying Landscape by Cate Gardner. It’s worth the trip.

See Cigarettes Disappear

2010-03-05T08:38:00.000+10:00

Five years ago today I gave up smoking. I only lapsed once, about a week later—my own fault for going to the pub when every smoker knows that a cigarette goes very nicely with a drink—but since that day I have not had a single cigarette. I wanted to. I’d smell someone else’s and instantly want to light up. I also felt like I had nothing to do with my hands—that habit of not holding a cigarette took a while to get used to. There was also the hostility—I was not a happy camper for the first month or so. In spite it all, I did really want to give up because it was starting to make me feel really sick, but I felt like my best friend had died. This might sound strange, but that’s how it was. So it’s been five years. How time flies.

March, An Award, Some Lies & A Truth

2010-03-03T08:47:00.005+10:00

What can I say about February—that I didn’t do anywhere near as much as I planned, that I spent a lot of the time reading when I should have been writing. It’s not all bad though. I did manage to submit a story (Alone was sent to Everyday Fiction) and got some more editing done.

As for March—I need a good draft of An Attic in Hell done by the 26th, plus I still have to give a few other stories a going over before re-subbing them and there’s also the editing.

I’ve been given an award by the lovely Mr Alan W Davidson in which I’m forced to make up some outrageous lies about myself. Oh, and tell one truth.

The rules are as follows:

1. Thank the person who gave you this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you.
4. Tell up to 6 outrageous lies about yourself and at least 1 outrageous truth.
5. Nominate 3 creative writers who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
6. Post links to the 3 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.

I too have taken creative licence and changed the number of nominations from 7 to 3, just because I can :)

I now nominate:

Natalie L Sin

Jamie Eyberg
Cate Gardner

I’m dying to hear what you’ll each come up with. And now, please read below my 6 lies and 1 truth:

1. I have 9 sisters.
2. My house has a dungeon where I keep ex-boyfriends tied up.
3. I have 2 extra toes on my left foot.
4. Edgar Allen Poe is my great-great-great grandfather.
5. When I was a kid I slapped a horse across the face.
6. I once ate 40 hotdogs for a dare.
7. I was once an undercover detective before leaving to join the circus.

Can you guess which one is the truth?

Seriously, I hope you can.

Project Short Story: An Attic in Hell

2010-02-23T10:37:00.002+10:00

I’m currently working on a project with my crit group in which we were given a list of items to cut out of magazines, newspapers or wherever we could find them (e.g., a picture of something the character would hate, a picture of something they would love, a diary entry, a handwritten letter, a picture of something they would wear, a classified ad, a job advert, etc.—you get the drill).

We had to place the items in an envelope, bring it to our next meeting and place it in a bag then select a different envelope. If that’s not enough to get the creative juices flowing, I don’t know what is. We have six weeks to write a short story with a limit of 3,000 words. Well, five now actually.

I’ve made a collage with my pictures and have spent quite a bit of time staring at them, trying to conjure up a story. I’m not used to working on a timeline with a short story and usually let the endings come to me when they’re ready. Six weeks might sound like a long time, but it isn’t to my stubborn brain.

While I pondered the pictures the obvious kept jumping out at me but I wanted something different, something hidden under the veneer of the first impressions I got when I looked at the pictures.

I also planned to write something that wasn’t dark fiction, horror or anything remotely similar to what I write, just to push my creative boundaries. That was my plan. But, my thoughts turned dark. I couldn’t help it. As much as I tried, the story began to unfold—it's a dark, dark suspense.

I don’t have an ending yet.

I have a beginning and part of a middle.

I have a title: An Attic in Hell.

I have five weeks.

Will keep you posted.