Not having a good afternoon...

Have been working for over an hour. Here's what I've got so far...

He stepped towards her, put his drink down next to her empty plate and straightened, so close that they nearly touched. Then without hesitating bent swiftly and brushed her lips in a kiss that was more of a question.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh. WHY WONT THIS FUCKING SCENE WORK. WHY. WHY. WHY.

Usually at this point I'd have a drink, but yesterday I had a champagne or two and ended up downloading Broken Wings by Mr. Mister onto my iPod.

Frankly there are depths to which I'd rather not sink.

Small Press Publishing - what it's really like...

Okay, I'd just like to start this post with the preface that firstly I have, thus far, only published one book (next one out in Sept - wheeee!) and that what I'm saying here is from my own limited experience with Samhain Publishing. I ain't no marketing guru nor am I an expert on other publishers.

So, I've probably banged on enough about my first sale story, but briefly, I was having a really tough time struggling with a 10month old toddler and a grim pregnancy (grim because I just couldn't stop being sick). I was shattered and spiraling into post-natal depression (and yes you can get it before the baby arrives!). Hubby suggested I come up with a project, something just for me, that would take my focus away from life with the small screamies (okay screamy at that stage) and make me sit down and stop stressing about everything. Thus Running Scared came into being. I began it around June 2004 and it was sold to Samhain Publishing in January 2005 just after Miss Bugalugs was born.

This flung me in at the deep end of small press publishing. I didn't have a clue. At first it was all a nightmare of editing and breastfeeding (although the breastfeeding part was not part of the publishing - just in case you were wondering). Running Scared almost had to be rewritten from scratch, but I cannot describe how much I learned.

And this is where the value in small press publishing lies for the newbie. In Running Scared I had made every beginner mistake known to publishing and invented a few new ones! But I had the opportunity to go through the book line by line with a professional editor, who not only told me what needed to be changed by why.

At times it was gruelling and overwhelming, at times I just didn't think I could come up with another scene, but I did. I think the very worst moment was two weeks before it was e-published, and we had signed off Running Scared, all done, ready to go. Then I get an email from my Editor (on the 26 December - yes Boxing day) including a copy of the text with 500+ changes that a line editor had picked up. These weren't just typo changes either, these were "too much headhopping in this sex scene..." type changes, so the scene had to be totally rewritten from one point of view. I was at the point where I wanted to screech LEAVE IT, I don't care. But instead I gave up my holiday and sat down and rewrote again.

My point is, that a big publisher would not have looked twice at this book. But at Samhain they saw I had the bones of a good story and that I could string a sentence together and decided to work with me. Otherwise that novel would've ended up buried on some hard disc somewhere and I maybe wouldn't have written again.

This is why, when I see Crissy and Angela at the conference I shall be sobbing all over them and explaining to them exactly how they changed my life for the better.

Sorry, gushing.

But, little did I realise that the editing and publishing of Running Scared was only the first rung in the vertical learning curve that I found myself upon. Next came the marketing.

My first and instinctive response to marketing was pretty much along the lines of, "Shit NO WAY. I'm not going to SELL my own novel. Get real."

Samhain, however, had come across my sort before!

So they, and I believe that other small press/e publishers do this as well, had put in place a support network for writers swooning at the thought of flogging their wares.

E-Loops
First place you start your marketing is the e-loops.
At Samhain there are three loops for authors only where you can discuss advertising, marketing, birthday parties, grocery lists whatever! Some of the authors are very experienced in marketing and a couple come from a marketing background, and they give, give, give... Ask a question and people all over the world respond with their advice/experience. You find yourself thinking 'okay maybe I can do this.'

At Samhain we also have the Samhain Cafe, an e-loop where readers and authors chat 24/7, this is a fab place to start marketing. I so remember sending a timid email, along the lines of "Hi, I'm a newbie, my book has just come out, please don't hurt me..." and was overwhelmed with support an interest. I could barely keep up.

But you don't have to limit yourself to your publisher, websites like Coffee Time Romance, Romance Junkies, The Romance Studio have vast yahoogroups, chat rooms, competitions and so on, soley for authors to make contact with readers and sell their books.

Courses
Did you think publishing was just about writing and maybe a bit of marketing?? Nope. Prepare yourself to become aufait with the mysteries of HTML, web design, jpg's, working with printers, designing your own fridge magnets... The sky is the limit. But again at Samhain they are behind you, they run online classes, how to design a brochure, how to write an HTML newsletter, with experts to help. In these classes the clueless mix with the clueful and suddenly there you are sending out emails with a picture of your book cover in the signature line.

So as you can see, whilst the world of marketing your own novel may, at first glance, seem daunting, you are not alone.

Reviews
Samhain sends out your novel for reviews, and has a list of approved reviewers that you can send to yourself. Reviews are marketing gold. You can pick the best line or two from the review and sprinkle it about... on your website, in your brochure, in your signature line. You can let the world know that someone out there thinks your books are great. I've only had one average review (and to be honest I think the reviewer had a valid point in her criticism) and even then she still said some good stuff about the novel. Curious? She kindly put the review up on amazon.com so have a look if you wish.

The Print Version
So six months after my e-version came out I got my own print version to hold in my hand, I felt that life was now complete, but still the marketing began again.

It was much the same as before with e-loops and chats, posting excerpts of the novel and getting involved in give-aways and competitions. However, by this time it'd become clear that first it was going to be a long time between books for me (I just couldn't have a high output and give the kids what they needed) and second that Running Scared was not going to sell itself. The novel is a good story, but I'm the first to admit isn't a masterpiece (and I know it is a cardinal sin to talk down your own book, but its also important to understand the reality of your situation).

Books do sell themselves. Great reviews, people raving about it on chat lists, 4.5 stars from Romantic Times, a cover that is being lauded from one end of cyberspace to the other. Sometimes the book just clicks. But the reality is that many books fall into the average grade. Nothing awful about them but they don't earn their writer a mint either. I am NOT ashamed to admit that Running Scared was such a book - its value to me is far beyond monetary.

So, I decided to use the launch of the print version to learn everything I could about publishing and marketing. First thing I did was pay the piper. Asked around and booked advertising space on a couple of big websites such as Coffee Time Romance, got involved in some of the packages those sites offer such as Latte Limelight and took advantage of the e-cards, chats and blogging opportunities. So from September through to November of last year I was flat out with this stuff. And I really enjoyed it. Teamed up with a few other authors and did an Aussie chat day - Samhain Cafe has yet to recover from that! It was intensely hard work, I got hardly any of my own writing done and the house descended into chaos, but it was fun.

The hits on the website doubled, then tripled, and it was fascinating to see the instant effect of some types of advertising. Other types of advertising, however, barely made a ripple in the pond. This has been solid gold for me now as I'm sorting out advertising for Secret Intentions. Cover on the front of Coffee Time Romance, worked and I had a sales spike. Interview with Romance Junkies, not a flicker of interest. And its experience like this that makes Running Scared such a valuable book.

I had my own book launch - yes a whole new experience in fear, but I did it and I'm glad I did. Sent out press releases to local papers - to the eternal amusement of my workplace when they were published with smarmy photo. I tried it all.

These days all writers need to do this kind of marketing. Maybe its not so full on with a big publisher, or maybe its full on in a different way (I expect a book tour would pretty much reduce you to a jelly). But from Ken Follet to Jane Porter to me, we are all out there marketing ourselves and our work (appearances on Oprah, having your book turned into a movie and... um... Tim Tam giveaways!)

With small presses you do have to open your wallet, and with Running Scared I spent around $500 which I doubt is going to be earned back. But I see it as my hobby, and hell, people spend thousands on quilting and scrapbooking, and that is just for their own pleasure.

Don't let the marketing aspect of small presses put you off investigating or submitting to them. It is a bona fide way to get your foot in the door and the rewards for yourself and your writing career can be far and beyond what you may imagine.

So, questions? I hope I've addressed what everyone wanted to know in the chat room last night - and sorry I was only there for ten minutes or so! If any other authors have anything to add I'd love to hear it. Like I said, this is my limited experience in a nutshell.


Oh and we did catch the possums and they are now safely living in the possum boxes!

The Possum Hunter

Yup. The roof men have been. The roof is sealed and we have two blissfully slumbering possums trapped inside the roof. Its going to be an interesting evening.

Hubby and I are armed with apple slices and a possum trap (just a cage they go into and can't get out of) and two possum boxes waiting in nearby trees, all cosy and ready to go. The only thing we need to do is get cranky possums into trap and thence to garden. We are quite nervous. Actually I'm not, but hubby is. He's envisaging scenes aka the end of 1984 (ie his head being attacked by possums).

I'm planning on watching events unfold from the safety of the couch.

Shall let you know how it goes.

Being a Judge

I got a lot of questions last night (in the RWA chatroom) about being a contest judge. In, I think, all of the writing contests each entry has to be judged by a published author. I love being a judge, it never ceases to amaze me how imaginative and creative people are.

We published judges know how confronting it can be to enter your work in a contest, we've all been there, and I have to say its good practice. You have to learn to handle criticism if you are going to make it as a pubbed author. Writing is many glorious things, but to do it for a living you cop rejection and criticism frequently. Just wait until an editor gets their hands on your beloved book. They'll rip it apart. But, they are doing it so that your book is better, so that it will sell better, you that you will get better reviews. Contest judges have the same motivation. Their comments are to improve your work. Yes we can be wrong, but we are frequently reading a part of the story out of context, and yes we miss things, but when that happens just glide over the comment. Think, 'no, she's wrong, she doesn't understand that I'm foreshadowing (or whatever)' and move on.

Just remember that judges judge because they want to help you get your book published.

Judging is no small undertaking. I usually take on 7 - 10 manuscripts, and right now I have a pile sitting on the floor about the size of a ream of paper. I devote about 1 - 1.5 hours per entry. I read it through making mental notes and getting a feel for the whole thing and then whip out my red pen and highlighter and get to work. If something is good I say so, and I say why, same for if its bad or not working. The why part is incredibly hard. Its so easy to just say 'Loved it' and move on, but that doesn't help the writer. They need to know what they're doing right and what they're doing wrong and WHY.

Its also important to remember that when you enter a contest you don't get judged by one judge. Usually its three or four. This helps put each judge's comments in perspective as well. If they all hone in on one point then its clear that point must be changed no matter how vital or poetic. Though from my experience judges see your work very differently, which is fascinating in itself, its amazing how one person will pick up one perspective and another miss it entirely.

I truly believe that it was the comments of a contest judge that got Running Scared across the line and accepted for publication by Samhain. It was in the Emerald. This judge tore my entry to bits. You have never SEEN so much red pen. At first I was confronted, couldn't look at her comments for days, but when I did I saw that she'd been constructive. I could write, the story was good, she said, and then started to use a lot of words that included trite, boring, cliched and awkward (yes I did get rather pissed-off). But she was right. Totally right. I re-wrote the whole thing and sold it two months later. I always thank heavens for her (actually I have a suspicion as to who she was and have bought all her books!!).

Absinthe & Anzac Day

Its officially cold. Have started making porridge in the morning for the screamies. Yes, winter is upon us.

Yesterday was Anzac Day, and no, I was unpatriotic and did not manage to crawl out of bed at 4.30am like James next-door and attend the dawn service. My Grandfather was in the RAAF during WW2 but at 92 he is still pretending that the horrors he experienced didn't happen so there has never been a family emphasis on Anzac Day. I am however having him over to spend the day tomorrow. What better way than to say thanks than to let him see his Great-Grandkids looking cute and angelic and, most likely, having howling tantrums about the place. (He comes for the food, I know this).

Have been doing research on Absinthe (or Absynthe). After a demented day yesterday which included a trip down to Ingleburn (godbless the new in-car DVD player), was avoiding writing The Bunker and ended up in the Romance Australia chat room for a couple of hours (as well as taking part in a Samhain HTML newsletter workshop, bidding on ebay and rearranging iTunes). It went off, and if you're a RWA member drop by next Friday, 8pm - 10pm. So anyway, in the chatroom we had a long discussion with Tracey the absynthe expert, its always intrigued me given it was illegal for most of last century. Here's what wikipedia has to say about it (oh how I love wikipedia).

Absinthe is a distilled, highly alcoholic (45%-75% ABV), anise-flavored spirit derived from herbs, including the flowers and leaves of the herb Artemisia absinthium, also called "wormwood." Absinthe is typically of a natural green color but is also produced in both clear and artificially colored styles. It is often called "the Green Fairy."

Absinthe was portrayed as a dangerously addictive, psychoactive drug. The chemical thujone, present in small quantities, was blamed for its alleged harmful effects. By 1915 absinthe had been banned in most European nations and the United States. Although absinthe was vilified,^[2] no evidence has shown it to be any more dangerous than ordinary liquor. Its psychoactive properties, apart from those of ethanol, have been much exaggerated.

So, further to Thursdays post (a long moan about turning into a boring fart) in addition to possible hair dyeing, tattooing, and piercing, I'm adding a taste for absinthe - hmm, I do believe I'm starting to find my inner Goth.

Old Friends... Or DAMN YOU Facebook

Hubby and I are having another night in. Just like every other night since we got pregnant. The fire is going, music is on, the wine is nearly gone and I am cheerfully surfing ebay for teacups that I Simply Cannot Live Without.

Usually I'd be perfectly happy.

But tonight I'm inwardly howling.

What Have I Become?

Facebook is to blame.

I've come across some old buddies of late. People who knew me in my youth - and I'm talking 17 odd years ago now (oh and Freddie Bear who knew me when I was eight so he doesn't really count as I was just working up to my prime at that point). And don't get me wrong, I'm deeply glad we've made contact. I have been wondering about these people for years. And now here we are swapping stories of divorce, babies, adventures, studying, being an artist's muse, swimming with sharks, all incredible moments of their lives which, little do they know, are going to end up in a book sometime!

But its made me a bit melancholy, and its taken 3/4 of a bottle of wine to figure out why... I kind of miss that wild, reckless, drunken girl I used to be. What happened to her? Where did she go? Rolling drunkenly around the Muddy Duck in Wagga and escaping home in an orange combe-van, avoiding strippers (male and female) at 10am on a Sunday morning at the Church in Kings Cross, London, busily evaporating last night's hangover with snakebites, or running around a gay nightclub in Kunming in China (and being ardently pursued by Italian cigarette company reps). Then it seems life got serious, or I calmed down, or grew up, or something. Only I don't suppose I realised Adventure Cait had really left the building until I started to look back over my twenties and thirties and see that I haven't darkened the door of a Youth Hostel in nearly ten years, in fact I've let my membership lapse. Shared bathrooms? I Dont Think So. I like my hotels 5 star, thankyouverymuchindeed.

God. When did I turn into my parents?

I'm feeling the need to do something outrageous. Just to prove I can. And no I don't mean Smoking a Cigarette, or Getting Drunk at Hornsby RSL or even Opening Another Bottle of Wine. Suggestions welcome and I'll let you know what I come up with.

Birthday Parties... the aftermath

This photo was taken by me hiding inside the house. You see they've got balloons.

Yes. If there is one thing in this world that sends me into a cold sweat its being in the presence of balloons.

Children's birthday parties are a trial, always had been. I remember once being at a work chrissy thing and there were hundreds of balloons suspended in nets from the ceiling, ready to be dropped at any moment. I left early. I couldn't bear it. And everyone kept asking why I kept staring fixedly upwards.

Autumn

Its really arrived...

Hair

Am avoiding writing at the moment. Not writer's block. Am over that. Just every time I sit down to write I find something else to do. Like surf ebay for tea-cups. Or, find friends on Facebook. Or fiddle about on Myspace. Or watch TV, clean out the laundry cupboard (3 packets of mothballs? 3??), tidy the kitchen, organise someone to remove the possums from our roof, check the weather... you get the idea.

So, latest obsession is dying my hair. I'm thinking bright red and blue streaks. No seriously I am. Its just such boring hair and it just sits there. I want Loud Wacky Hair, which will go very nicely with my Loud Wacky personality. No really, I am loud and wacky, well I could be, if I wanted to.

sigh.

Hubby is appalled and trying very hard to be 'a good supportive husband' - okay, so when he told me I was mad I managed to look like I was about to cry and he's been running scared ever since.

Ohhh Queasy....

Have just got home from wonderful birthday party. For Tom who's two.

So here is what my children ate this weekend...
Saturday: Breakfast (cereal, milk, toast). McDonalds for lunch (yes, am bad, weak mother). Most of dinner (steak and veges) was chewed thoughtfully and then spat back on the plate (or the floor) - although hubby liked it.
Sunday: Breakfast (cereal, milk, toast). Fizzy drink, popcorn, cake (although the actual cake part was left uneaten, heaven forbid it may have had something healthy in it like white flour or sugar or butter - they just scoffed the blue/purple icing), more fizzy drink, frankfurters, vegemite sandwiches, more cake icing, jam tarts with lollies on them, fizzy drink. Then, NOT ONLY did their mother end up with half the birthday cake to bring home, but we ALL got lolly bags as well.

I harvested the pumpkins (all three of them) from the garden yesterday, and am making pumpkin soup for dinner. At least then I can tell myself I've offered them some form of non-processed food.

sigh.

Tomorrow I will be a better parent. Tomorrow.

Hilarious Blog

http://www.dooce.com/

Its hilarious. Just read the post about her hat.

I'll put it up on the sidebar when I get a chance.

GITB - Abundance & Pain

So, my GITB course is trotting along, quite quickly actually. I just manage to forget all about doing the readings for one week and another list comes along, so then I do the readings for the previous week so I don't feel guilty and... well... you get the idea. Its the story of my life anyway.

So last week was about the Abundance in our lives. Yes my life is overflowing with abundance, and germs. But mostly abundance. No its good. I'm not one for counting my blessings, actually I take them rather for granted. Which is bad. I should write a list. I shall add writing a list of all my abundances to my list of things I should do.

My bottom. Now that is abundant. And getting more abundant by the minute. Oh well. Its cold, the knitwear has come out and I've found this excellent long cardigan thingy that covers my abundant bottom, so it can just stay abundant I reckon.

All bottoms aside. One of our tasks was to imagine our perfect lives and work towards it. So I imagined my perfect life. Nice house. I love my house. Nice Garden. I especially love my garden. Loving family. Weeell some days I'm not sure about the loving, but they're all mine and I kinda like them - okay let's just say I'd be reeelly upset if they went away... permanently that is.

Anyway, without being too vomity about it, I have to say that I'm pretty much there when it comes to living my ideal life. The ONLY thing missing is a horse. Yes. A horse. Things aren't too bad when the only thing missing from your life is a horse.

SO, then this week just so we don't feel too cheerful for too long we're doing PAIN. Now (and this is true) when I see the word PAIN I just think that it's the french word for bread. Then I start thinking about french food and my bottom ends up being more abundant. Yes. Unusually optimistic for me, but there you have it.

So we're supposed to be looking at past hurts and how they've changed your life. So, for example, you are a gifted artist, but some discontented art-teacher tells you you're crap in Year 8 and you crawl away and never paint again. That type of thing.

Now I'm not without my share of past hurts. I anybody really? I had a boyfriend killed in a car accident when I was 19, it took me a long time to get over it. I've lived through a divorce. And yes, they were great turning points in my life. They did send me off in new directions, but I think its all good. It got me to where I am now and, as I said before, I can't imagine a more perfect life for myself (apart from the horse thing).

All is revealed...

So its not the fact that

• I'm woken up 3 - 6 times a night, or
  
• I cook
• I clean
• I shop
• I adjudicate
• I pay bills
• I write
• I diagnose
• I hug
• I work
• I drive
• I clothe
• I talk and walk and type
• I organise
  
• I watch and worry
  

But no, I'm exhausted because I have low iron levels. Well thank you Sydney Morning Herald for deciding that all women are exhausted because they're anemic.

Its cold, my feet are cold, and yes I know some of you reading this are currently being snowed upon, but 17 degrees in Sydney is a very cold 17 degrees. Much colder than elsewhere. No, I'm convinced of it.

Am tired and very, very crabby. Hubby has gone to Dubbo on business. Yes, selfish, I agree. The rest of the household, fully aware that there is only ME to take care of their nocturnal wanderings, put on a magnificent effort last night. After three hours of scratching fleas and purring the cat decided to take a twenty minute break outside and then come back and nag at the door. The dog had similar ideas. Miss Beanie kept dropping Funky (a plastic horse) and Red car (a red matchbox car) on the wood floor and then howling for them to be picked up, because hell, the fifteen other dollies and teddies in bed weren't nearly enough. Miss Bugalugs was snoring, possibly to make sure I didn't miss her father. AND there was a thunderstorm.

I ask you.

So, glutton for punishment that I am, this morning bleary eyed and foul tempered I potter off to the supermarket (only to have the checkout chick count every last cent in her till BEFORE serving me), then go to the butcher (who was busy chatting and not in the mood for serving customers), then to Bakers Delight (where I was served by a TRAINEE who couldn't count and nearly got eaten by the bread slicer).

Then, just to make sure I had spread the joy, I went to Bunnings (where the luddite who served me insisted on putting the 50kgs of dynamic lifter I'd asked for onto a different trolley, leaving me with two trolleys to deal with - uh thanks. Also the Bunnings carpark is on a steep hill. WHY don't they have brakes on the trolleys? WHY? It did not make life easy or even dignified to try to haul 50kgs of dynamic lifter into the car when the trolley is hurtling back down towards the shop taking out elderly doddery people as it goes.)

THEN I went to the vet on the way back so that I can DO something about the cat's fleas. Yes. You're correct. Didn't have either brand of flea stuff for cats. But she did helpfully suggest I either a) drove to Asquith to their OTHER vet practice, or b) soaked the cat in flea spray stuff.

Yup. All things considered I was quite polite, but something must've shown, I doubt I'll be getting an invite to her 21st.


sigh.

And just to continue this week's theme...

I simply have to read this... mostly for the cover. But also to find out if her dress does actually fall off. Its defying gravity as is.

Just cos...

Damn You Ebay

How... HOW am I supposed to concentrate on long list of Things To Do when am flogging stuff on ebay?

Yes. In a fit of inspiration I placed the unwanted items from my Shelf Of Negativity on Ebay. And guess what, at last refresh they were earning me $180. Uh huh. $180. I'm as stunned as you. I think its poetic justice at work. The auctions end in about twenty minutes or so, and I'm sitting here hitting F5 like a woman possessed. Actually I've got a tension headache and at this rate there'll be a nosebleed before the end of it.

You know some days I do wish I didn't get so stressed out about everything. Actually, most days I wish that. However, am slowly accepting that I only ever take things in my stride with calm competence when under the influence. Drugs or alcohol, either is fine.

Speaking of stressed out, drove to Leichhardt today. Yes, torrential rain and the WORST roads in Sydney. It was bliss. Especially when I was so busy yelling at the bored screamies that I took a wrong turn and extended the entire ordeal by forty minutes by getting completely lost. Yes I had a map. No I never get lost. But today I just couldn't get it together. I'd consult the map, have it in my mind to take next left then right, but then have a panic and take next right instead. It was awful. This is why I never leave the suburbs. I never get lost in the suburbs. Its clear that I'm not designed for the trendy inner-west. Had to give up on map and ring clever Janine who sorted me out in no time. NOT ONLY was I in search of her old house (they moved years ago) BUT ALSO I was about sixty seconds away and had been for a good twenty minutes of panic-stricken block circling.

sigh.

Three things I'd like to know about supermarkets...

1. WHY is there always a person going in the opposite direction up and down the aisles that gets in your way EVERY SINGLE TIME?
2. WHY does it take me 25 minutes to find the plain tuna amongst all the shi-shi p00-p00 ones with added bits (and that goes for packet soups - just try to find the chicken; and toothpaste).
3. WHERE have they put the apple juice - oh I could find plenty with myrtle flowers in it, or blueberries, but no plain apple juice.
sigh.

Yes its been one of those days.

My feet hurt, I feel like I've been endlessly standing up. Am dementedly tidying the house as Angela our cleaning lady is upon us tomorrow, and I just want to make it so she can actually see the dirt, instead of it hiding below a layer of toys and clothes.

Picking up the Pace

Its been quite a few weeks now since I did any serious writing. It's been a well needed break. But in the last couple of days the urge to get in front of the computer has started to return. I'm still totally and utterly blocked on the plot of The Bunker. I'm not sure I can go on from the point I'm at, so I suspect the solution is going to be to go backwards, ie rewrite.

But, of course The Bunker isn't the only thing going on. I'm starting to work on the promo material for Secret Intentions, the back-cover blurb, tagline, cover art, that sort of thing. The edits are going to arrive at the end of the month as well, which I'm looking forward to. Its been a looong time between books, and I'm keen to get to work on the next project with my excellent editor.

In the meantime I'm tossing up between getting on with All That Glitters and rewriting At the Diplomat's Bidding into a more substantial romantic suspense. I suspect its going to be At The Diplomat's Bidding. Then I can send it off to my erstwhile agenty type person and give the poor girl even more to do.

GITB - Fear

So this week in my Girls in the Basement course we are looking at fear. In her lecture Barbara Samuels talked about how she only really discovered fear when she had children...

And then I had children. And I holed myself up in my house like a
prairie woman waiting out a plague of locusts. The world suddenly seemed
absolutely horrific with danger... I was mainly afraid of anything that
could hurt my children, or hurt me so that they would be motherless or I
couldn't take care of them. It terrified me to discover there was love
like that in the world, love so vast an all-encompassing that I would not
survive the loss of them. I knew I wouldn't.

God. I so know how this feels. And I think the most utterly terrifying part is that the fear NEVER goes away. Being a mother of young children you are constantly on red-alert, even when its me time, there's always that niggle.

And what is even more amazing is that every mother lives with this fear. Its ordinary. Its part of every day life.

See. THIS is why I deserve all the tea-cups money can buy.

Teacups - oh yeaaah baby...

I don't own these, but oh how I wish I did...

Just so you know what I'm talking about when I refer to tea-cups.

My day...

This is how Wednesday 2nd April has been in the Caitlyn Nicholas household.
5.53am - Hubby dissapears to work
6.17am - lurch out of warm snuggy bed in the dark to struggle to computer and bid on sodding teacup in the UK. Get there with 15 seconds to go and lose out.
6.27am - fall over sodding Elmo who starts telling me that he loves me
6.28am - fling sodding Elmo out door
6.29am - sodding dog starts barking
6.30am - Small people wide awake and ready for breakfast ONE HOUR before they usually are - decide I hate ebay.
6.31am - make cup of tea
6.51am - reneg on 'no tv in the morning' policy
7.05am - make cup of tea
7.08am - realise one child is running temperature
8.03am - phone doctor - find out there are no appointments and demand to be put on a waiting list
8.15am - tidy rooms, put on first of seven loads of washing
9.07am - pushing small screamies on swing
9.41am - do deal with teacup chick to get teacup I missed out on yesterday - feel mollified and forgive ebay
10am - curse that children's programs are ending. Spend more time pushing swings. Wonder how the hell the house turned into a pigsty when I tidied it just days ago.
10.01am - unload dishwasher. Load dishwasher. Hang out washing. Put load of washing on containing Miss Bugalugs favourite duck towel. Leave Miss Bugalugs with nose pressed to machine sobbing 'duckie, duckie,' and make cup of tea.
10.07am - ring Mum to complain about ebay and doctor
10.44.am - realise we've got no bread for lunch, decide to make motherly chicken soup with teddy-bear pasta for poorly child
10.30am - Blinds man arrives to measure Miss Bugalugs window - her blind recently went pling and we've been incapable of un-plinging it
11.30am - Blinds man goes, having sadly failed at selling me several security doors and blinds for every naked window we have
11.32am - wood guy arrives to dump wood
11.51am - serve motherly chicken soup which is instantly rejected. Change soup name to teddy-bear soup with teddy-juice and is wolfed down.
11.53am - doctor rings with cancellation
12.30 - finally get everyone into bed for naps
12.35 - replace Miss Bugalugs nappy
12.41 - replace Miss Bugalugs nappy
12.51 - get teary-eyed over photos of clever Janines new bubs - born yesterday arvo - YAY. Idly wonder about having more children, and firmly dismiss idea as insanity. Make cup of tea, do yet another load of washing, hang out more washing, tidy up lunch, watch Dr Phil, long for a housekeeper.
2pm - Wake up everyone to go to doctor
2.03pm -replace Miss Bugalugs nappy
2.30pm - get home from doctor
2.31pm - Dianna arrives with her screamies to play for the afternoon
2.45pm - Cup of tea, bun and excellent gossipping
4.15pm - Roof man arrives to see about possums in roof and leaky bits
4.51pm - Have in-depth conversation about flashings, eaves and whirly-gigs
5.01pm - Hubby phones, running late, thereby scuppering carefully thought out pizza-for-dinner plan
5.02pm - get dinner
5.15pm - do last load of washing
5.35pm - feed everyone
5.40pm - hubby arrives home
6pm - collapse in front of marvellous cooking shows on telly and decide its been a rather long day.
6.51pm - get clothes in off line.
sigh.

I got stuck...

I've been really stuck writing The Bunker. I just couldn't get over the fact the heroine was turning out to be one of those annoying perfect people like you see on CSI:whereever (insert town of choice). Beautiful, brainy, undaunted. God, she was so mind-numbingly boring. Then the plot went tits-up and I couldn't think of a way to fix it, so instead I went on ebay and spent lots of money on useful things like teacups, and the whole thing turned into an impromptu break from doing anything that involved my brain.

Of course since easter we've lurched from disaster to disaster, oh rest assured, that hasn't slowed. Gimme a couple of days to get over processing 300 students scholarships, dealing with our latest virus (in children not computers), being outbid on a teacup I really, really wanted, organising to get the possums out of the roof, wood delivered, Miss Bugalugs blind fixed, cooking, cleaning... You know, the usuals. And I'll give a detailed analysis!

The Gargoyle did not help hide the Easter Eggs

The cats have had a long, difficult Easter

Shelf of Positivity

Here's my new shelf. Its got my laughing Buddha statue, the Unicorn cross-stitch my Grandmother made, a variety of stones including Jasper (to unite body and spirit), Rose Quartz (to see beauty in everything) and Pink Agate (for problem solving).

Plus a plaque saying...
Do not exist - Live
Do not touch - Feel
Do not look - Observe
Do not read - Absorb
Do not hear - Listen
Do not listen - Understand
Do not think - Ponder
Do not talk - Say something

Up the top are fairy prints that are going to go in the girls rooms when they're a bit bigger.

Oh a VERY nasty fright....

Googled Richard Armitage.

Wikipedia told me this was what he looked like.












Aaagh.

Thankfully THAT is Richard Armitage the US Politician. NOT Richard Armitage the actor, who is below.








Mmmm.

Finally, the girl gets shoes...

I don't get shoes. Never have. I live in a couple of pairs until they fall to bits (or start to smell so bad that even I can't stand it), then I go reluctantly shopping and buy some more. Actually, things have improved markedly since Marvellous Jill and I became friends. Marvellous Jill works in a fabulous shoe shop

However.

Marvellous Jill notwithstanding, I just didn't get all this fuss about women having lots of pairs of shoes. Given that you cannot wear more than one pair at a time and they are just a pain to store, I could never understand WHY anyone would saddle themselves with more than one or two pairs.

Yes.

Imelda Marcos and I would have had little to chat about.

But then, in reading about The Red Shoes, see my post below (no not the one moaning about my utterly horrid desk the one below that) I came across this...

Socially, shoes send a signal, a way of recognising one type of person from another. Artists often wear shoes that are quite different from those worn
by, say engineers. Shoes can tell something about what we like, sometimes even who we are aspiring to be, the persona we are trying out.

Suddenly it all makes sense. I get why girls love shoes.

Not to mention the fact that my shoes are saying...

1. that I like old smelly falling apart things (like hubby for example),
2. and that I am aspiring to be someone who wears sandals (Jesus perhaps? Ghandi maybe?)
3. and that the persona I am trying-out is aiming to be comfortable and well-worn (downtrodden, if you will).

Yes, shall whip out my Manolo Blanicks for Mother's Group next week. That'll show 'em.

Speaking of Sacred Spaces...

Moved desks at work this week. Oh yes. NOT ONLY did it press every single one of my i-don't-like-change buttons. BUT ALSO, I was moved from a light, fresh environment filled with phones, chat, people, life, to a closed-in, airless, dark, stuffy hole, with noone around except for me. Just standing near it I could feel my soul being sucked away by the fluro light, peeling paint and air conditioning that seems to be funnelled directly from inside the microwave in the kitchen.

Have attempted to cheer it up with two plants, named Tory and Brian, bets are on to see which one dies first. Heh.

Even uber-boss is feeling guilty about making me move. She stuck her head around the corner (AFTER I'd spent all day wiping splattered food (I think - if not blood) off the walls and given myself a headache squirting bushflower essences 'space-clearing' blend about) and persuaded me to put in a petty-cash claim for the plants. Of course the receipt was in the bin nestling under several peoples lunch leftovers by that point, so needless to say I'll be bearing the cost myself.

SIGH.

Am presently trying to think of positive things about moving desks...

She who cannot howl, will not find her pack.

Its week two of GITB, and we've been looking at creating a sense of safety and self-acceptance.

As part of this we've been looking at an analysis of the fairy-tale The Red Shoes by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Her interpretation of this tale is that the red shoes represent a woman's spirit (or soul, or inner creativity). The girl in the fairytale loves her scrappy handmade red shoes - ie, she is a child and she hasn't been taught to supress her own spirit and conform to the norms of society.

After the girl's mother dies she is adopted by a dusty old woman who burns her red shoes and forces her to behave like a 'proper' young lady. But the girl yearns for red shoes. Eventually she gets some red shoes, they are shiny patent leather and she adores them, unable to help herself she wears the shoes to church. - Or in other words, unable to supress her spirit the girl goes overboard and flaunts it, drawing the condemnation of the people around her.

The shoes are cursed and she starts to dance but cannot stop. Eventually she has to cut off her feet to stop dancing and spends the rest of her life a cripple. (I KNOW, horrible, but then most fairy tales are). But what this represents (according to Pinkola Estes) is that the girl supressed her spirit until it burst out of her in a delgue of excess. Once she gave herself the freedom to express herself she didn't have the experience to know where to stop. Pinkola Estes makes interesting parrallells with the life of Janis Joplin, who was forced by the strict environment in which she was brought up to firmly supress her musical creativity, eventually it burst forth and she was unable to control it or herself, and died of a drug overdose at the age of twenty-seven.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Don't let things around you supress who you really are.

I love Pinkola Estes' final paragraph...

If you want to re-summon the Wild Woman, refuse to be captured. With instincts sharpened for balance - jump anywhere you like, howl at will, take what there is, find out all about it, let your eyes show your feelings, look into everything, see what you can see. Dance in red shoes, but make sure they're the ones you've made by hand. You will be one vital woman.

GITB - Sacred Space

This week we're talking about our sacred space again, that is, our writing space. Last week we found (or in my case tidied up) our writing space. This week we are personalising it with odds and ends. So, if you were a Buddhist you might have your favourite Buddha statue there, or if, like me, you're not much of anything, you can fill it with things that are important to yourself or your writing.

Of course being the Queen of Change I embraced the whole idea immediately. "Not MORE clutter," I thought to myself. sigh.

But then I realised I already had a little collection of things happening in my writing space.

See there, those two shelves above my desk. Only one thing on those two shelves DOESN'T have negative associations for me (the Unicorn crossstich on the bottom right that Grandma made for me). I had my own little alter to past failures happening right above my head and I never even realised it.

Okay, so maybe the pile of books is pushing it. But every time I look at them I think "oh when am I going to have time to read them and if I don't read them I won't ever improve as a writer," - they're all writing books.

So its all going to go. I haven't much to put up there yet. But I love to collect treasures so I think it'll fill up over time. At least its going to be easier to dust.

Artist's Date

So, as promised I took myself on my Artists Date. Actually I really needed it. I'd dropped the small screamies at daycare, and true to form it was brutal. They'd both professed unfettered JOY to be going to daycare. They'd both claimed to be beside themselves with excitement over the whole thing (okay, to my question "Do you want to go to daycare?" They both said yes... after a few prompts... and a promise of hot crossed buns - yes, yes the chocolate ones).

So, all is calm. We arrive. Everyone feigns enthusiasm. But, as I slowly make my way to the exit, the screamies start to circle the gate. I won't go into details, but suffice to say one child had to be forcibly removed from the gate itself and I had to shake the other one off my leg.

THEN, I nearly got run over on the pedestrian crossing, yes, I was trying to wave to the now-not-howling screamies, who hadn't even bothered to press their little noses to the glass of the window and wave bye, bye, and were instead absorbed in the sandpit (not literally, which is a pity really - hmm).

Anyhoo, procured hot chocolate (full fat AND two marshmallows - just because I can) and took self down to the point to feel the serenity. Actually it was nice, had the place to myself, butterflies danced cutely in sunbeams, the wind whispered through the She oaks and rustled the leaves on the gum trees, mist rose majestically from valleys, and it was all jolly splendid.
This is looking south.


And this is looking north.

I sat for about half an hour, would've stayed longer but had to go and be pummelled by the physio again. Came to three stunning conclusions
1. I might or might not take up Yoga
2. Macaroni and Cheese for tea (actually I spent the rest of the day tidying the house - it was well trashed - and we had microwaved things from the freezer).
3. Hubby needs some sort of me time (as in not with me or the rest of the family. Then I realised that this meant more me time for me with the screamies and decided NOT to mention his complete lack of personal time. He works for chrissake, THAT can be his ME time.)

Eddie

Finally a photo of the damn cat. Okay so its not the best. I've taken heaps, but he always looks in the other direction, or comes to say hello, so all I get is a blurry close-up of his nose.

Am still so glad we got him back.

GITB (that's Girls in the Basement)

What's working for me on the Girls in the Basement course.

1. Mindfulness - Barbara talks a lot about mindfulness. This is being in the moment. Not being distracted, and thinking about other things, but just listening to your own breathing and taking in everything around you. Just simply taking a breath has helped me a hundred times this week. What with the stresses of work, and the stresses of the Small Screamies I feel like my mind is going a million miles a minute every second of every day (oh how I love a cliche!) But I just take a breath, let the tension go, and suddenly life seems more manageable.

2. Doing one thing at one time - this has been a challenge. I always spend my time hurtling from one task to the next. Its ridiculous. I'll be going to put on the washing, but then decide to strip the kids beds, but then see clothes on their floor, so pick them up, then I put toys away, then the bathroom needs a tidy, then someone wants a drink etc... until they go to bed and then I realise the washing machine is still half full with its door open. I'm just as bad at the computer. I was writing this afternoon, and caught myself absently flicking to internet or email fifteen times in half an hour. I wasn't even realising that I was doing it. But now that I am, I'm feeling SO much more focussed, and getting more done AND feeling more in control.

3. Artists date - an artists date is when you get out of the house and do something, just go to the beach, but go by yourself, no distractions, no company, and simply experience it. I was horrified. Go somewhere? By myself? For no good reason? Not even taking writing to do? Nah. Can't. But then it occured to me that I now have monday's to myself (yes it occurred as in it wasn't immediatly obvious - sigh). So next Monday I am off on an Artist's date. Actually I'm planning on sitting at the end of the street and soaking in the view for an hour or so.

Given that this is the view from the end of my street, I think it'll do.

4. Readings - as I've mentioned before, there have been some excellent books recommended and I'm loving them (and trying to read them one at a time!) But I'll chat more about them later.

Whats not working for me
Surprisingly the whole Girls in the Basement concept isn't working for me. Its not so much the idea of a creative muse, or spiritual guide that I have difficulty with - I like the idea of a spiritual guide. But its the whole giving this guide an identity and personality that just doesn't sit well. I suspect its my sensible capricorn side coming out, or maybe a deep-seated fear of giving myself schizophrenia. But at this point I'm preferring to look more at the spiritual growth that is encapsulted in the course, rather than the creative muse concept.

Girls in the Basement - Week 1

I'm currently doing an online course called the care and feeding of the girls in the basement, run by Barbara Samuels, the keynote speaker at the Romance Australia Conference this year. On the blog, with Barbara's permission I'll be chatting about how I'm finding the whole things, what lightbulb moments I've had, and which parts are beyond me

Spent yesterday evening creating my writing space (whilst hubby lectured me on looking after my back.

BEFORE


AFTER

That's my collage for the Bunker on the wall behind the computer. On the left, behind the Cavvy calendar (that's Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, which is what Ella is) and Miss Beanie's handprints lives my constant companion. Our boy possum. Yes he is a boy because a) he snores and b) when he isn't snoring he is scratching himself. We have a love hate relationship. He loves living in our wall, and I hate that he wakes up anyone sleeping at the spare room at around 4.23am. EVERY DAY.

Anyway, back to the Girls in the Basement.

We've been underway since Monday, and already Barbara has opened up a whole new world for me. First she has introduced me to Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, an amazing book about a woman's 'search for everything, across Italy, India and Indonesia. I highly recommend it to everyone. Its funny and readable and I could so relate to it. It, and the other reading she has suggested has taught me to regard my own creativity as something that needs to be nurtured and cared for, and not taken for granted. Given my busy life; creativity, and frankly anything to do with writing come a very distant last to, well, everything and that is a constant source of frustration to me. But then, if I don't put it first (or at least higher up the list, given I have the small screamies), how are the people around me going to understand that it is one of my priorities?

So the desk is tidy, the filing is done, and I'm making changes.

Excellent.

The Bog of Eternal Stench

Just in case anyone thought I was after a pool-boy, rather than in the middle of a pool crisis...

Ella, carrots and going-to-seed lettuce

Yes, am obsessed with Pumpkins

Am just proud, is all...

Much Improved

I am, as the doctor predicted, improving rapidly. Am off the happy drugs (much to Hubby's and my mother's dissapointment!!) and just taking anti-inflammatories, and whilst my back is still sore I managed to pick something up off the floor without falling over this morning.

Last week was a truely awful week. What with the cat dissapearing and sick kids and all the rest. Lying in bed for two days has given me time to take stock and try to figure out where its all going so wrong. Alas I didn't come up with any firm answers, but one thing I did hit on was that there is way too much stress in my household. That stress is coming from me, being totally flat out ALL the time, and from hubby who is under much pressure at work.

So I'm organising some help at home. First I've ordered some ready made meals from Gourmet Dinner Service. Their stuff is delicious, low fat, lives in the freezer and can be microwaved. So, the pressure to be forever in the kitchen has been reduced. Next job for today is to organise someone to clean the house. Hubby and I often spend most of the weekend trying to keep the house in order. We're overwhelmed. So cleaners it is for a couple of months. Then someone to fix up the pool (which is bright green AGAIN). Someone to get the garden under control.

And yes, we're going to pay and pay. But okay, so what if we're paying off the minimum on the mortgage, buying the cheapest groceries, and forgetting about life's little luxuries. I'd rather do that than continue the way we are going. Over tired, overworked, barely communicating and with two small worried people.

I spent last night on the phone, connecting with people I should ring all the time but dont (like my sisters, and very pregnant best friend). I've invited friends around for dinner on Saturday night, I love to entertain, but barely have since Miss Bugalugs was born (that's two years now).

I think, at the end of the day, the Universe was pointing out to me that I wasn't noticing what was really important in my life. I've been caught up in the small stuff and allowed it to derail me.

Everything, as they say, happens for a reason.

Going from bad to worse

Further to my dog attack tale of yesterday. It seems that the combinaton of stress and the unusual movement (for me anyway) of twisting and kicking out at the dog has led me to slip a disc in my lower back. Am in so much pain I can't move, and that is after a pole-axing combination of anti-inflammatories, panadine forte and valium.

Wonderful parents have come to the rescue, but I'm out of action for at least the next few days.

Bloody hell.

My complete bewilderment at the Universe and its plans for me continues!

Pumpkins and Business Time

In other news I'd like also to report that my pumpkin fertilization efforts have borne fruit. Yes, only days after my cupid impression, my girl flowers have stopped rotting away and are now swelling, in pumpkiny abundance. Oh Joy.

AND

My boss who shall remain nameless put me onto the song below. Yes we are very busy at work, no really we are.


Who knew New Zealanders could be so funny.

Oh What is the Universe Trying to Tell Me??

I had a grim afternoon today. The kids behavior is going from bad to worse, and on the way home in the car they alternated tantrums for forty minutes straight. And I am talking screaming so hard you gag tantrums here. I am at a complete loss as to what the problem is. Nothing, but nothing I do seems to be right.

Then I read Jane Porters Blog. She's not having the most wonderful time at the moment either, and when I got to the sentence where she said

“I’ve done my best,” I said. “I’ve given you everything. I don’t know how to be less, or do anything different.”

I burst into tears. She's referring to her publisher here, but for me, it could have been how I feel about my kids right now. I just don't know how to make everyone better and happy. I don't know what else to try.

Sigh.

So anyway, after much cajoling (mostly on hubbys part) the kids are finally asleep and I plug myself into iTunes and get down to finishing Chapter 3 of the Bunker. Then, all of a sudden Hubby calls me, and I follow him outside and there, like a silver ghost is Eddie.

"Eddie" I shriek and the poor animal takes off over the fence in terror.

SIGH.

He reappears a few minutes later. He's fine. Much, much thinner but in good condition. So we think he must have been trapped in someones shed or similar, as the weather has been horrible and he definitely hadn't been outside for five days, and he must have had access to water as he wasn't thirsty, just hungry.

I'm walking on air. Can't describe the joy. My prodigal pussycat has returned. Yes, am so overwhelmed am getting biblical.

I was however plunged rapidly back to earth.

Took Ella out for a walk, and as I'm powering along oblivious to anything except my iPod a dark shape streaks towards us. Its a Blue Heeler and it went, teeth bared, straight for poor Ella. I didn't actually think how to react. I just started shrieking 'get away, get away,' at the top of my voice and kicking the dog whenever it got near Ella. Its very portly owner came sprinting up the road yelling "Don't worry, I'm coming, I'm coming..." The dog had a lead on and from the looks of it, it'd just made a break when it saw Ella and the owner accidentally let it go. It took him a few seconds, but he grabbed his dog and then Ella and I made a run for it.

No damage done to me or her.

But still. It seems that all my small creatures, dogs, cats and children, are in turmoil. Lost, then returned, endlessly screaming in frustrated rage, and nearly savaged. You can understand when I wonder what on earth the universe is trying to tell me.

Feeling Glum

Well, Eddie the cat has been offically declared Missing. We haven't seen him since Monday, and I'm starting to accept that we won't be seeing him again. Am spending a lot of time peering out windows at his favorite sunbathing spots, just in case. Pepper, our other cat and his sister is a bit bewildered. But she's getting lots of TLC and spending much time napping on our bed and getting cuddles. SIGH.

And the small screamies are still poorly. Everyone has ear infections, which usually follow on from colds at our house. Ear infections invariably make everyone very very crabby, so the last few days at our house have been fraught with fights and hair pulling (them not me) and being sent to bedrooms for time out (them not me worst luck).

I do have some respite. Once they've made the long and painful decision over which DVD to watch then I can organise some peace, but ONLY if I remain in the room and do not move a muscle or draw attention to myself in any way (if I see Ice Age, Angelina Ballerina or Shreck one more time I'll be sick).

What with them and the cat am feeling slightly inadequate as a parent. Not to mention the house. Did I say we found mushrooms growing in the bathroom?? Yes, mushrooms. Hubby sprayed them with Exit Mould, bless him. The whole place is a tip, I found Miss Bugalugs doing colouring-in on a pile of bills I'd forgotten about, and there are THINGS lurking in the fruit&veg drawer in the Fridge. THINGS.
The poor vege garden is suffering from crappy weather, the lettuces are bolting to seed and the snails are getting first pick of everything. AND my potatoes that I declared dissapeared have come to life, all exactly underneath the tomatos I planted. Another possum has moved into the roof, and one has taken up climbing the flyscreen of our bedroom at around 4.30am. AND we had a blackout last night so I have to reset all the bloody clocks.

But I have been very good with my diet and lost a kilo.

Fertilising Pumpkins, Haunted House webcams and an AWOL Cat

As you can probably tell its been a busy day here today. I found out why my pumpkins may be kicking the bucket - lack of fertilisation. Yes it appears its not all pink hearts and bows out in the vege garden. So have taken it upon myself to improve their love life and hopefully get some pumpkins out of it.

To this end I've been flitting from boy flower to girl flower, cotton bud in hand, like an overgrown cupid. There's all sorts of advice about this on the net (we gardeners don't just chat about manure you know), apparently I should fertilise in the early morning and tape the flower shut afterwards (to stop the pollen from escaping perhaps?) Hmm. Taping the flowers shut is a bit kinky I reckon, I'll just let them take their chances.

Yes, that was how I spent my kidless morning.

I was going to take more photos, but after this one I walked into a spider web and nearly fell in the very green pool. Then the camera battery's went flat and I decided to take a hint.

After all this twoo wuv amongst the veges it was time to settle down and do some actual writing type work. Hmm. So, my current MS is set near Dover in Kent (southeast England). So in the interest of research I was surfing the web for webcams in the area. Well, first I found the Dover weather webcam. V. exciting especially as it was night. But then what caught my attention was the Haunted House webcam. All over the UK the BBC have set up webcams in haunted houses. How cool is that? The Kent one wasn't working, but I did find one in Lincolnshire, and have spent most of the day ghost hunting. When I got bored with that (it only refreshes every 10 minutes) I found a Loch Ness Monster cam (another one that works best in daylight).

Needless to say I've only written 503 words, seen no ghosts, or the Loch Ness monster, but DID see a ferry arrive in Dover just now. So it wasn't all a waste.

Our wedding cammelia has just got its first blooms of the year. I know its a dangerous thing to put sentimental value in a plant, it invariably leads to sudden and inexplicable death. However, I always feel a bit awww when it gets flowers. Its really early this year, we were married in May after all, but I think it must be the incredibly cool summer we are having - they're predicting a top of 19 on Thursday. 19! That's practically winter.

And Eddie, one of my cats has gone walk-about. He does this from time to time, but didn't turn up for dinner either yesterday or today. Can't help but worry. My two cats, Eddie and Pepper, have been around for forever, moved house numerous times, coped beautifully with divorce, but still haven't forgiven me for having noisy, messy children that chase them. Hubby has been prowling around the cul-de-sac shaking packets of cat food and calling "Eddie, Eddie" in a very high voice. Which, no doubt makes a change from the horrible-teenagers doing circle work in their boofed up cars, for the neighbours.

Cabin Fever

Pshaw, what a week. Everyone has been sick, I won't say again... its more like as usual. Sigh. I think this bout of colds/tummy upsets, simply merged with the virus of the week before last. Needless to say I've STILL got two kids with high temps. Forcryingoutloud. We haven't left the house for days, and I feel like I've done nothing but cook and clean. Am considering starting blogging about what evening meal we have every day, that's about as interesting as its getting!

Still, currently all is at peace. Okay, so I'm ignoring the shrieking from the other end of the house, but its the Biggest Loser any minute now and I've declared it MUMMY TIME. The kind of Mummy time that is not even interrupted for amputations, okay well maybe amputation... actually I might just go and check...

Have spent a couple of hours today fossicking about in the vege garden and making the most of the stunning weather. The pumpkins are not doing at all well, infested with whitefly and the fruit is rotting off. Hmm. The rest of the veges are looking good though. We made a pasta sauce the other day and everything in it had been grown here. I planted purple heirloom carrots too, and they've gone nuts, outgrowing the orange ones about ten to one. The kids love them.

Have been finding it hard to get motivated in the writing department of late. The new MS, The Bunker is coming along, but slowly and I'm finding enthusiasm hard to summon. So, I've enrolled on a course. Its called The Care and Nurturing of the Girls in the Basement, and is run by Barbara Samuels. Its all about nuturing your creative spirit and I think I'm overdue for a bit of nurturing. Jenny Cruise often refers to it and is quite a fan, and I've been checking Barbara's blog over the last few weeks and I like her style, so am quite excited.

I also think I'm feeling unmotivated because as far as books are concerned I'm kind-of sitting in no-mans-land. Secret Intentions e-book version isn't out until September, and I'm sitting on several complete manuscripts waiting to hear back from publishers. One, At the Diplomat's Bidding has had a partial with Mills and Boon for six months. I gave in and emailed them about it last week, but haven't heard back yet. I'm at the point where I don't care if its a rejection, I've got another publisher in mind for it anyway, I just want to get a move on and do something with all this writing I've been doing.

SIGH.

Feeling the Lurve

I stayed up last night until 11pm. This is late for me, usually I'm crashed out by 9pm (oh the joy of children). But what kept me up? Pride and Prejudice. Yes, the 2005 version with Keira Knightly. It was fabulous, I loved it. Pure and un-adulterated romance, that swept me away.

After being firmly in the dumps for the last week, it blew away the fug and reminded me what romance really is. Showed me what I should be aiming for in my books. I'd forgotten, I think. Especially with Drive Me To Distraction (formerly High Speed, yes, finally decided on the new name). I'd been so busy focussing on the sexist attitudes in the car racing industry that I'd forgotten all about the love story part. This is now fixed as well. I finished the re-write earlier today and have sent it off to my agenty-type person to see what she thinks.

Hubby and I were discussing romance at home as well. I was rather stunned when he apologised for not getting me flowers for Valentine's Day or our anniversary of meeting (15 Feb). But I don't think flowers on Valentine's Day is romantic. Sure, you can show them off to everyone at home or in the office, but it seems so contrived. What is romantic to me is when he gives me time to write, when I can hear the kids howling at the other end of the house and he's clearly having a hard time of it, but instead of complaining he just brings me a cup of tea. This, to me, is romance.

Oh the Romance

Valentine's Day today and the anniversary of the day I met hubby tomorrow. Yes we are brimming with romance in the Caitlyn Nicholas household.

Sorry, did that sound a wee bit churlish?? Its been a week of colds and upset tummies at my house, and as a result I'm not really feeling the romance. Yes, a bit grim for a writer whose aim in life is to write about wuv, twoo wuv.

Actually am doubting my romance writing abilities at the moment. It was a bit of a shock to re-read High Speed (no I haven't decided on another name yet), and discover that whilst the central love story was watertight, the rest of the book contained elements that sucked all the romance out of the story. I have discovered that writing romance is not just about a love story between two people, but everything in the book has to be romantic. In previous stories I've done this automatically, but I think the combination of the fact High Speed is set in a world brimming with machismo, and I was writing it at an incredibly difficult time (when my Grandmother passed away) I lost the plot (no pun intended!).

I enjoy re-writing, and I am enjoying injecting the romance back into High Speed. Its not that its gone entirely, it just needs digging out from underneath all the swear words and car crashes. But what's got me a bit uneasy is that with Boys of Summer I was making the same mistake. I'd just gone so overboard with a drug addled heroine and a lost hero that there wasn't a skerrick of romance to be found.

And, I must admit, I forgot all about Valentine's Day.

Sigh.

I think a weekend of Chick Flicks is in order. Might try to commandeer the dvd player and hide the Angelina Ballerina dvds. I think Love Actually will be first. Maybe? Oh who am I kidding! But I can dream.

Sorry

Today is our first Sorry Day. The day which we remember and apologise to the Aboriginal people for the generation of children that were stolen from their families during the sixties.

It's a complex issue. Many believed that the children were being saved from a life of squalor, and that they were given an education that set them up for a better life. However there was also a deep seated streak of racism that believed the Indigenous people were incapable of looking after their own children.

Regardless of the pros and cons, my heart aches for those stolen children and their parents. I could not imagine what it might be like living with the threat that one day I might wake up and someone at the door would remove Miss Beanie and Miss Bugalugs, never to be seen again. The very thought makes me queasy with terror.

I'm glad that the Australian Governement has finally, officially apologised, it is a new beginning in an atmosphere of acknowledgement and so much hope.

High Speed (or Driving Her To Distraction - or something)

Am loving rewriting the soon-to-be-renamed High Speed. Alex is my favourite heroine so far, she's just so full on. Here's a reminder of the story...

Alex Trulove, a Formula One racing driver, is determined to make it in a man’s world - no matter what the cost to herself or anyone around her. After she makes a deal with the evil Hamish McClod she is propelled to stardom, but it quickly becomes clear she is nothing but a pawn in more sinister high stakes game.





Rob Dryden, owner of the Prometheus race team that Alex drives for, isn’t shy about his feelings for Alex. But she has a nasty secret, one that prevents her from having a relationship with any man, one that no one must ever know about. Which is a pity, especially when it’s leaked to the tabloids and she winds up being the star of an extremely popular YouTube video. Of course Hamish McClod is responsible, and she vows to strangle him with her bare hands. Unfortunately for Hamish, someone has already taken care of it for her and she’s top suspect on the list with Rob Dryden close behind.

This is you Mummy, part II

Name the darn book...

I've made no secret of the fact that I detest the title of High Speed. But despite racking my brain I simply haven't been able to come up with a better one.

So now I've made a list. Yes, its got that serious.

So far the front runner is Drive Me To Distraction.

However, assorted friends and family have suggested...

• Drive Me Insane
• Fast Woman
• Fast Lane
• The Quick and the ... (something, but not dead)
• Driving Her Insane
• Driving Alex Mad (the heroine is Alex)
• Setting Her Limits
• Setting Limits
• No Limits
• There's No Limit
• Danger Girl or Dngr Grrl
• Priceless
• Limitless

Hmmm!

Bursting To Do List

Phew! A week ago my writing to-do list consisted of two things, write Boys of Summer and write All that Glitters.

How things change.

A couple of days ago I had two emails, both from agenty-type people regarding High Speed. A long, long time ago, when High Speed was in its infancy (okay, last June) I agonised long and hard about my heroine prostituting herself in order to get a contract and save herself from destitution. Eventually I followed my heart and had her commit this terrible act.

Turns out it was a BIG mistake. Huge, in fact. It propelled High Speed out of the Romance Category and into Literary Fiction. And a couple of agents have been kind enough to point that out. So re-writing it is. In actual fact I've come up with a fairly simple solution, but still, there's a lot of changes to be made.

Then there's Boys of Summer. The book was making me miserable so I've ditched it. It can wait for another year. Instead I've turned my attention to The Bunker, a romance between a mad donkey lady and a man who lives in a nuclear fallout shelter, plus the usual hi-tech conspiracy. I'm really excited about it. Have been researching donkey shelters, and I think we'll be adopting one in the near future (not an actual donkey although the idea appeals especially when I think of the reaction of the neighbours). Have also been researching nuclear shelters. My, oh my, Do you have ANY idea how many paranoid people there are with internet access? Its deeply scary.

Hmm.

Not to mention All That Glitters, which I've promised to finish by May, and The Bunker by August, and High Speed (soon to be renamed, god how I hate that name) to be finished asap. Plus, ahem, the finishing touches to my nano novel, The Millionaire's Fake Fiancee, which also need to be done asap.

Plus the usual Mum duties (feeding, cleaning, speaking), AND part time work.

Okay, if I stop sleeping, then it'll be fine. Just fine.

Cripes.