Monday, December 19, 2011

Just a little poetry

Veiled in shadows
Obscured from the world.
A single voice screaming in pain,
No one hears.

Face damp with tears
They all assume that she's okay.
She goes through the motions
thinking things she'll never say

She smiles when they do
She hides her innermost secrets
All the time she's screaming with a pain
that she cannot explain.

~ ~

Words are meaningless
Until they are put together in a certain way
We put associations to a phrase
Make it mean something
To another it is still empty
A jumble of letters to represent a word, a feeling
Meaning is given by human thought
Words have no meaning before

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

'T'is the season to forget our road rules

tra la la la la la la

So, I'm not the most Xmas-sy person. I tend to pull away from the tree and wreaths because I don't spend a lot of time at home during the season. I'm spending time with family.
During the two weeks leading up to Xmas, I get up early and go to the supermarket before the Xmas car park craziness begins. Of course, when I leave, I'm surrounded by it. There are the parking vultures who tend to follow you from the sidewalk to your car, park a reasonable distance away until you pull out so they can get your park or even worse, those that pull up as you unpack your groceries into the car and ask you if you'll be moving soon because they really want your car park because walking that extra couple of metres is just too hard.
In the afternoon it's worse. People forget that they have an indicator on their car next to their steering wheel and that it should be used when you're trying to change lanes. The other day I was almost sideswiped twice because people didn't know how to use those switches and just expected to be let through.
It's just one day of the year when it comes down to it.
One day, but we all tend to treat it like the world will end because on that one day not many supermarkets will be open... Independent ones can choose to or not I believe.

That being said though, I do wish all my readers a happy and safe holiday season. Enjoy yourselves, eat too much food, play backyard cricket if the sun is out, hug the family and be safe on the road out there. I'm not kidding when I write that there are some serious morons out there.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

You know you're on your way when...

You know you're on your way to making it big on a local scale when your local library has not one, but four copies of your book on their shelves at their different branches across the city. Now I just need people to borrow it, read it and want to buy it :)

Books are also available to purchase locally at Collins Booksellers (previously Book City)on Armstrong St, Ballarat

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

One Girl Starts All over and thinks who we are

One Girl Revolution:
"And I'll be everything that I want to be... I am confidence and insecurity"
Sometimes I feel like it. I'm constantly thinking of ways to make change, to fix the world, to lessen the pain of not only myself, but others too. My problem is I dream big, see the wider picture, but then there's not much that I can do to make people hear/ read my words if they don't want to. I can't force the change I want to see happen on my own.

Start all over:
"... commit or not commit is such a crazy time"
So with that in mind, i am taking a step to the side to focus on ME, and what I want, right now, for my life. I want to go to TGSS (national roller derby event). This means I need work. The kind that pays on a regular basis. The reviews might get me there, but I've worked out that I need to do about five a month to get there and pay accommodation without paying for pass to get into event

Who we are:
"There's so much more to me than meets the eyes"
I'm being pulled into different directions. Most people only see what they want to see, the surface me because it's easier. they aren't looking for the complex underlayers that might feel conflicted by what they're trying to tell me.

By the way. For the rest of this month, I am working on the witch story. I even have a massive stack of non fiction books to go through for the research.

Songs quoted:
One Girl Revolution - Superchick
Start All Over - Miley Cyrus
Who We Are - Hope Partlow

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Bullying myth still prevails

Bullying isn’t part of our DNA. It’s a learned social behaviour that people pick up either at home or at school. They see the predatory side of their peers in the schoolyard and swear that it will never be them on the end of an attack. In order to do this, they adapt. They conform to social trends in appearance, entertainment and even snack food in order to minimise their chance of being the next victim.
We talk about change, but it’s a vast minority that is prepared to do the work that would be involved to obliterate bullying. We say that we are waiting for another victim that’s willing to be the public face of a campaign like this, knowing that it would be a rare individual who would do this. We say that it’s just ‘too hard’ and it sends the subliminal message to the bullied that the cause isn’t worth it. That they aren’t worth it.
The prevailing myth that bullying is something we all have to endure, either as bully, victim or observer continually echoes around us. Of course, if this were truth and not fiction, there wouldn’t be so many campaigns against bullying. As the years have passed, this statement has been eroded as we’ve become increasingly aware of the consequences of bullying. Earlier this year in America, a teenage girl took her life after enduring several months of bullying from her classmates. Take a moment to consider that last sentence. It was so bad for her that suicide was the only option that she could see. It has been reported that on the day after her suicide that her tormenters even went so far as to post ‘accomplished’ on her Facebook wall. Her tormenters have since been charged with a range of crimes including civil rights violation and criminal harassment.
Suicide as a result of bullying isn’t a new thing. In the past, it wasn’t reported or even spoken of, lest we inspire other victims of bullying to take that same path.
VICTIMS: If you are reading this, there are people out there who are willing to help you in the battle against bullies, but they can only hear you if you speak out and let them know your pain.
That being said, action needs to be taken now in order to eradicate bullying from first the education system. My suggestion is a change in legislation which would enforce a police-able zero tolerance bullying policy on all schools and educational institution that receives any form of funding from the government. This policy would cover the actions of not just students and teachers, but also outside contractors connected with the school. After it was installed, if a school were to ignore instances of bullying then there would be a monetary fine to be paid to charitable institutions that work with victims of bullying.
To make this change in legislation would mean a lot of work. It’s proposing that schools would finally be held accountable for ignoring the violations of human rights that occur within.
Bullying isn’t just something that affects the bully or the victim. There are further reaching consequences that we cannot know until they happen. And it isn’t just up to the parents to speak up about how bad things can be.
I feel like I’m rehashing the same things that we all know, or should know.
Things need to change. We cannot claim ignorance any longer.

Places to look for help:
Kids help line
Reach out

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Employment Services Code of Un-Practice

I was at my soon to be ex job network this morning, following their rules about only printing job seeking related documents (well mostly, but a girl's gotta have her hobbies) and I saw that there is a new laminated sign up on the wall. So immediately, you know that it is important because it is laminated...
Anyway it was an Employment Services Code of Conduct. I've never seen it in there before. It could be that because I usually sit at another computer that I don't see it or more likely due to the fact that I'm a little self-involved when I go there. I'm there to print, not to read the sign on the wall. Unless I'm taking photos to then mock on facebook.
So back to this guarantee. Most of it was pointless. But then I got to the part of what they do for their jobseekers and I just have to hope that this is a new thing, that it isn't something that has always been around. Because otherwise I will be really fricken annoyed.

~ Meet service guarantee - well as I never got shown or told about a service guarantee, it is possible that they did do this, but more likely that they did not.
~ Tailoring assistance to the job seekers personal circumstances, skills, abilities and aspirations - Yeah they totally didn't do this. I gave them the parameters of work that I could and would be able to do and it was never offered to me. Because I have bigger aspirations than check out chick or takeaway food girl it isn't easy for them
~ Using government funding appropriately to support jobseekers - I didn't feel that they met this objective as well as they could have. They paid for courses that they felt were relevant, but when I asked for them to pay for me to access an art based job search engine, I was denied this support, even though it is the sector which most of my skills are based.
~ Treating job seekers fairly and with respect - This NEVER happened. Because I wasn't an easy 'shove them into a job and that's the end of it' person, because I demanded that they find work for me where my skills would be an asset, skills that they had previously belittled, I was treated like I was some kind of freak.
~ Providing fair and accessible feedback service - Again, this NEVER happened. I struggled with this because these people were supposed to help me. When one of my many case workers told me that all the skills I got through work for the dole programs were not good enough, I was not allowed to point out that I had gotten those skills while participating in an approved program.

I don't know, I could be just random rambling here.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Let's talk: Bullying

I've been thinking a lot about bullying. Not a big surprise given it's presence in my local community at the moment. As you can see by the pic, I'm saying NO to bullying. This is part of a facebook campaign by the local youth services here in Ballarat to curb bullying in the schools. I've been involved in youth services programs off and on over the years but this one is close to my heart.
I was bullied and harassed as a child, teenager and as an adult. Each time I felt powerless to stop it, like it was somehow my fault that people found something to pick on me in a nasty fashion. It was as if the whole world was conspiring against me (cliche alert) to make me feel bad, or not good enough because people made me feel that way.
I like to think that I can handle it, that I'm strong enough to put it behind me and tell myself that I'm a good person and that these people (and I use this term only in the biological sense) are being cruel because they've got their own issues to deal with.
Of course, the scary thing is that is is a vast minority who believe that bullying is something that should be stopped. Schools say they can't stop it, that it's too hard to police and they have better things to do than ensure that their students human rights are not being violated. Because that is what it is. It's a violation of human rights (for more information please check out ).
The law protects schools as there is currently NO effective legislation in Australia preventing it or making the schools responsible for it when it does happen. They can say they know about it when it happens but adapt a 'hey what can we do about it?' attitude about it.
Kids who bully or are bullied are at risk of developing serious mental health issues as a result of verbal, physical or any other type of abuse. That is UNACCEPTABLE.
The truly ignorant out there believe that it is up to the parents to do something. That the rest of us Singletons (Bridget Jones term) should just sit back and ignore it because it doesn't affect us personally. Those people will then point out that it is hard work.
Well damn, what were they expecting?
Anything that is worth it on a scale such as this is going to be a lot of HARD WORK because it is worth it.
As a member of the community it frightens me that this is the attitude of those who are supposed to fight the battle instead.

I don't see a petition, just on it's own, being the cure to all this. What we need is a change in legislation, a bill that holds schools (and other educational institutions) responsible for instilling a police-able Zero Tolerance Bullying policy for their students, teachers and subcontractors. If they are unable to do this then they should be forced to pay a fine to charities that work towards helping victims of bullying.
I'm not looking for short term solutions. I'm looking at the picture, seeing the details as well as the scope.
Don't be ignorant.
Don't let others be either.
If you liked this post, please share it with someone else. Comments are always welcome.
Make a change. Be a leader. Promise that you won't be silent on this topic just because of another's cliche`d and ignorant perspective.

Monday, November 14, 2011

I don't get to sword fight when I write about my witch

I'm still in the midst of the faery vs witch story war and I'm not sure who is winning.
When I work on one, it's all I can think of, completely excluding the other from my thoughts. Although I did some up with a good idea for the witch story the other day. Keep part one and develop it as a novel. It's going to be a lot of hard work to do this, but it's the part of the story that I'm really getting involved in. Then I will release part 2 as an ebook sometime in the future.
The faery story's coming along. I still don't have a title for it, so at the moment it's known to me as it's file name. I did get to playfight for it last week as a part of my editing process. That was sort of lots of fun. Plus it helped with the crap day I was having.
My foremost problem with both is finding a feasible sub plot to write about and be interested in long enough to reach a conclusion.

Farey vs witch... Still at even positions. Each one pulling me a little more

Monday, November 7, 2011

Sunday Morning with Neitzsche

If life were easy, we'd never grow.
Or so I believe is one of the messages that we can take from the Nietzsche quote:
"Human beings must be plunged into a constant struggle to realise their own capacity for power over themselves and the world".

I'm a big believer in the idea that we need to go through the bad times to appreciate the good. In this way, we grow as people, seeing what we can achieve when we put aside preconceived ideas of what the human race are capable of. The changes that we make within outselves when we struggle are those that we carry through on the next part of our paths. In that way, we have gained power over ourselves, simply by knowing what we are capable of and we also have the capacity to change our immediate "world" through being a stronger person that other people can choose to listen to.

The quote was supposed to be a short story prompt, but I couldn't get my head around it so I decided to blog about it instead.

So, in other words:
Accept that life is going to be hard at times. It is how you emerge that makes you who you are

Thursday, November 3, 2011

It's faery vs witch vs stressed, broke (and broken) author

It's faery vs witch here at "the little creative space I call home" and it's still up in the air who will win.
Okay, so I don't really have faeries flying about the room. They're flying about in my head asking 'why aren't you paying attention to me?' and making a case for their story to be told.
I also don't have a witch in the corner, stirring a bubbling cauldron full of nasty either. I probably could have if I'd looked into halloween decorations, but that's beside the point.
What it comes down to is that I'm working on two different novel manuscripts. One is Dark Destinies (that's the witch story) and then the as yet untitled faery story. I'm trying to divide my time equally between each one until one emerges the winner.
Between that I'm struggling to keep my business running as people aren't paying their invoices when they were supposed to. I feel a need to start writing nasty "pay me" invoices coming on. How fricken hard is it to pay an $80/75 invoice people. You're all supposed to have these lucrative businesses that could afford to pay for the order I've given you, but no, you keep me waiting, and wondering about when I will see the damn money in the account.

Breathe, relax, take a step back.

It's faery vs witch vs anxious, broke author here and I don't know which one of us will win

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Wireless at home

There is now wireless at my home.
I know, what's taken me so long?
Pretty much it has all been a bit of an "it will interfere with my writing" issue. Of course, I'm hoping once the novelty of a 'new toy', as it were, wears off, I will be back to my productive self.
Of course that doesn't mean I'm giving up on my trips to the library, nor am I giving up the internet access on my phone. I'm simply backing up what I already have with some that I can use at any time I need to. Whether writing this blog classifies as a need as opposed to an "I have the internet now so I'm going to use it" thing is all up to you really.

Sorry for the boring blog. I'll write a bigger, better one next time

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Halloween: Why I Won’t Be Leaving My Lights On

All Hallow’s Eve. It means something different to everyone.
To some, it’s the night when the veil between this world and the next is at its thinnest.
In America, it’s Halloween: the night where stranger danger is put on hiatus and children can ask strangers for sugary treats. And now, thanks to television, it’s making an appearance in Australia.
It never used to be widely celebrated here. It was only a few years ago in Ballarat that I started to notice trick-or-treaters showing up at my door, asking for treats, simply because it’s Halloween and it’s done like that on American TV shows.
Last year, 2 weeks before Halloween, they showed up at my door, thinking that it was the day/ early night of Halloween. I sent them away empty handed. Then, the same kids showed up at my door, dressed in regular clothes and not in costume, on the night before Halloween doing their trick-or-treating then because they weren’t going to be in Ballarat the night of Halloween. Again I sent them away empty handed.
In America, they have customs on Halloween night to let kids know what houses will participate in Halloween and what ones will not. People can prepare for it if they wish to, or ignore it as most of us choose to. Due to its newness as a ‘holiday’ in Australia, the cultural norms of America have not been adapted yet, like a light left on outside to let people know that it is okay to knock.
Halloween, as it is celebrated with all its gory, plastic tokenism in America, is still in its infancy in Australia, especially in Ballarat. We can choose not to leave out lights on out front and not participate in the Halloween ritual of giving out cheap lollies if we want because it is not a part of our culture yet. Parents are wary of letting their kids go up to people they don’t know to ask for lollies.
I know that this year I will again be turning people away that show up on my doorstep on Halloween night simply because I can’t be bothered taking part of it for the sake of a few kids that don’t even bother to dress up in a costume.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Fighting to Write

Here’s what I taught myself yesterday. Fighting with a sword while you’re a faery is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Every time I twisted my core, I left my back vulnerable, which if I were a faery it would mean that I’d be de-winged. Also my “swords” were really long, narrow, flimsy pieces of plastic poster framers that I’ve had for several years ago. Also I don’t have wings.
I know I’m not a faery warrior, but the central character of (what will possibly be) my next book is one so I need to know how to fight like a faery as there is a bit of a battle scene at some point. Try talking about a warrior without there being a fight scene.
Before my process so far is explained, let me assure you that I know nothing about fighting with weapons outside of that which I see on Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and not one of those people had wings).
Anyways, my first step to working out how to write fight scenes was to hit the net. I looked up article upon article on how to write fight/ action sequences. Most of them were aimed towards people that would write the martial arts type scenes. I tend to think of Zaphne as being a bit of a scrappy, get a kick in where you can until you survive long enough to reach for a blade kind of warrior. One was really helpful though.
It pointed out that in order to really understand how a fight would happen, it helps to act it out and then make notes after about what worked and what didn’t.
So, yesterday afternoon I pulled out my faux swords, wiped the dust from them and took up my fighting stance after I put on some music to make me move a bit faster. I fought against invisible minions for several minutes, all the time aware of the placement of tables and overhead light fixtures that make up my reality. Each time I moved I had to be aware of where my wings would have been if I had been wearing some and also how often I would probably end up cutting my own arms/head/leg off if I were using real blades. I Everything I did was slow, calculated whereas in a battle scene it would be more fast paced as one would not stop to take notes on which swipe would have cut the tip of an invisible wing.
I hope that it makes my fight scenes stronger, but I think I’ll keep on doing it, more so because I need to work out other fight related things.
Also I need wings.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Welcome to the twisted ramblings of my mind

You’re not like the rest...
I’m going to go into this blog post without a really really clear idea on what I’m going to write about. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I do not know what will feature in this post. Probably a lot of song lyrics that are playing on my computer as I type this.
Wow, okay, so that was almost a thought.

Spinning all around
That’s sort of where I’m at. I have a lot of thoughts, a lot to get done this week but when I look at my to do list all I can think is snore.
I’d rather live out on the street than in this haunted memory.
Realised that I can’t type as fast as I think...
Ferris Wheel Go Round, got work to do. Hey did you see that article in the news over the weekend about a Ferris Wheel getting hit by a plane. Really, you couldn’t see a big thing going round? No answer?
Launch plans are in the making. We love Australia Post for their fast service that I didn’t have to pay extra for. Everything I sent out at 4pm last Thursday has already been reveived.
I thought it was supposed to be blue skies today

When she was 22, her future looked bright – gotta change that song
Yeah, I remember being 22. Back then I wasn’t jaded. I was actually a little optimistic.
Pretty much, you know your limits, pretty much
I wish I knew my limits sometimes. Really sort of wish. But life is for reaching them and then going past them at high speed.
Just like that ass that sped past my place in his car. Where’s the highway patrol cars when that’s going on? Nowhere to be seen on the street.

(Boys in town – Natalie Gauci; Funhouse – P!nk; 22 – Lily Allen; Politics in Space – kate Milled Keidke)

Don't need to be a guy to make a desk

I made myself a desk the other day. Okay, so “made” might be too heavy a word for what I actually did. I mean, I brought it from Officeworks, carried it to my car from the store, carried it from my car to the lounge where I was setting it up and then I put it together according to the picture diagrams on the page.
Okay so it fell to pieces the day after because the shelf wasn’t in properly but at least I put it together. The fault of the falling shelf however does not lie with me but with the people who put the package together for giving me a faulty rail that the shelf cannot slide on. Oh well, you live you learn.
I found it funny that I was offered help to carry it out to the car by the checkout operator. I was quick to point out that if I couldn’t carry it to the car I wouldn’t be able to carry it when I got home. The whole walking to the car with a heavy, awkward rectangle box full of wood pieces took a while, a lot shorter than me getting it from the car to my home (I’d worked out how to carry it by then).
Then when I stopped at the petrol station to get air for my tyres, I had one of the attendants offer me help to do it, which I openly accepted because I was unsure about tyre pressure and all that (it had been a while since I put air in my tyres). I thought about it afterwards. I accepted the help because I was ignorant of how to do something instead of being an arrogant feminist believing that I can do anything a guy can. I mean, the attendant had offered the person before me and that was a guy my dad’s age.
I’ve never believed that you need to be a certain gender to accomplish tasks. My general response to being told something is a guy’s/ girl’s job is to ask if they’re doing it with their genitals. I lived in a share house where when work needed to be done like cutting down a vine that was threatening to destroy a gutter or defrosting a freezer, we had to wait for one of the girl’s boyfriends to come over to do it. In the case of the vine, I ended up cutting it down myself, from buying the saw and cutting it down. I ended up with scratches all over my hands (next time, wear gloves) but it was down.
As a child I didn’t have brothers to do all the stuff like carting wood in with the wheelbarrow for the fire, or even for cutting the wood. My sister and I were expected to do it once our father had shown us how. I was taught how to change a tyre (admittingly I prefer getting roadside assist to do that so I know with their electrical tools that it’s firmly attached) and how to fill the oil in my older car.
Living alone as an adult, I have put together shelves, moved furniture and all sorts of things. I’ve used high heels as hammers when I needed them, and brought several sets of screwdrivers when I couldn’t find my old ones. When I need help with something I’ll ask for it, but I don’t expect a knight on a white horse to come to my rescue simply because I’m a female in distress.

Friday, September 30, 2011

Reading this now

I just read this and had to share it with the world, being the big Joss Whedon & Firefly geek that I can be.

Monday, September 26, 2011

New Project

This is the way it should be. I have an idea and I ust write. This is several weeks of writing by hand and then transferring the translated longwinded ramblings into a cohesive storyline. It's 26 pages of story with one dimensional characters and no real view on settings and all that but it't the way a story starts for me.
It's skeleton mode. Start with picking up all the bones (that's the handwritten part) and then assemble them (the 1st computer draft). Then, each draftr that follows it will add layers like muscle, internal organs, liquids, brain activity, nerves and skin.
I haven't touched it all weekend so this week I can look at it with the critical eye I'll need to make hard decisions about plot, characters and if I want to keep on going with it.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

You know the music from Jaws...

Every time I have a home inspection by my real estate agent I have the music from “Jaws” playing in my head in the hours leading up to it. Da-dum-da-dum, well you know how it goes.
I mean, it’s not like I ensure that the place is a mess. It’s actually tidy. (If they inspected my car I probably wouldn’t pass a tidiness test), the floors are swept, all used tissues are binned, all bins are emptied and the place smells vaguely like the eucalyptus oil that’s sitting open on the bench. Usually I’d have incense burning if it weren’t an inspection day, but all my incense gear is put away in a drawer and the ashbowl is full of soapy water, waiting to be washed. I just checked the smoke alarm and it is working fine. I will probably have to demo it for them, but I can climb back onto the couch arms and do that.
No, I think it’s always a bit of apprehension because THEY haven’t done what they’re supposed to do. I’m giving them notice today of when I’ll be away for the next book launch and then it will be up to them to organise everything. I have been told that I’m not going to be able to live there while it is being fixed so it’s good timing on my part. I’ll even leave out coffee and tea and milk for the tradies to help themselves to while they’re working.
If they don’t do that, I am going to have to put in a complaint to the rental tribunal or whatever it is. It has been over a year. I have done everything that I have been asked to do and they’re still holding back on their end of things. I get it, floor coverings can be expensive to pay and get put down, but the other side of that is that because of their neglect or forgetfulness, I have been exposed to mould and moss which may have affected my health (let’s be realistic, I always get a cold around this time of year and it could just be an extention of that as opposed to some evil mould monster crawling through my lungs).
I also know that they’re going to up my rent around December, yeah, right around Christmas, just fricken brilliant. It will be extra incentive to get it done on their part.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Dealings with Creatures from the OtherWorld and whatnot

Busy busy busy
I’ve got about three things on the go at the moment along with another potential three projects coming my way in the next few days and it’s all to do with books and writing...
The faery changeling book is going well. I am ¾ through the first pen draft and I feel like it’s coming together quite well. I like where it’s going, plus I had the revelation the other day that the guy’s a witch, which I think adds an extra element to the war scenario that I have going on.
I’ve also picked up Dark Destinies again over the last week or so, and have been editing a printed copy (my job network’s printer probably hasn’t worked that hard for some time). I’m up to the assessment stage, working out whether it can work as a novella, if I would have to add extras and all that stuff.
I’ve had to reassess my previous “Do-not-reuse-old-stories” mentality lately. Some of this has come from watching Clerks 2 recently and hearing Kevin Smith talking about returning to the well. It’s possible to go to the same well and getting something fresh from it, even if it’s a fresh perspective.
I am also doing a trial review on a book (I don’t know which one first) for Australian Women Online and I have also put my hand up to do an article. The second one will depend on if anyone else responded before me.
What else?
Who knows anymore

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Ferris Wheel - Launch Review

Friday night was the big night… I think that there were about 20 people there and I sold 10 books, bringing the total now to 13 sales. I also did a little speech and a reading from the book.
Big thanks to Australian Active Aim’s Business Centre for their help on the night (couldn’t have done it without you) and the girls at Red Brick Gallery and Emporium for letting me take over the space for an hour.
If you didn’t make it to the launch but would still like to buy a copy of the book, not to stress…
There are a limited number of (unsigned) books available at Red Brick Gallery in Ballarat or you can always purchase one online from either
Go to Kekewick/dp/146372070X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1312938080&sr=1-1

Friday, August 26, 2011

Heir to the Shadows: Book 2 of the Black Jewels Trilogy

This is my favourite book in the trilogy. I’m just going to get that out of the way. I love it. It’s one of those books that I put aside time to read as opposed to reading when I have the time between writing and other things.
It starts with two major events: Saetan is granted all parental rights to Jaenelle by the Dark Council and then Jaenelle awakens from the coma that succumbed to in order to recover from her injuries that she gained at the end of the last book.
Saetan helps Jaenelle reconnect with her human friends and the Kindred (animals who have the power of Craft, same as the humans), while he tries to protect her from the attempts to control her by Hekatah, self proclaimed Priestess of Hell.
In his search for his son Daemon, missing since his refusal to go through the gate at the end of Daughter of the Blood, Saetan finds and starts to build a relationship with his youngest son, Lucivar, who is recovering from his own injuries after a suicidal bid for freedom.
Jaenelle takes the final steps to reclaiming her full power after an attack on the Kindred forces her to see that it is needed to protect them.

This is truly a funny, touching part of the bigger story

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Daughter of the Blood - Black Jewels Trilogy book 1

The first in Anne Bishop’s debut series The Black Jewels Trilogy takes the reader into a world that has been corrupted over several thousands of years. In a place where what colour jewel (ranging from white to black) determines how much inner power you have, the dreams of three men will change the world forever...
Saetan, The High Lord of Hell, wishes for a daughter. Aged in the high thousands he’s a Guardian, awaiting the daughter of his soul to arrive.
Daemon, the son of the High Lord of Hell dreams of being Witch’s lover. Until then, he is forced to submit to being a Pleasure Slave for queens all over Teirelle.
Lucivar, Saetan’s youngest son, dreams of a queen that he can be proud to serve, and that he can call a friend.
One night, Tersa, a witch who can see the future, announces that she is coming. Witch, dreams made flesh, and she will call in all debts.
Jaenelle isn’t what anyone expects. She’s younger, and she already has more power in her reach than the High Lord of Hell has... And all that she wants is to help people, and to be loved for who she is. Born into a family that doesn’t understand who or what she is, she struggles, sent to Briarwood (the facade of which is a mental health institution), until the High Lord becomes her mentor, teaching her everything he knows.
Then, Daemon is sent to Jaenelle’s grandmother’s house to service the adult women and meets the girl who is Dreams Made Flesh and learns of the horrors hidden behind the aristo facade.
For “Briarwood is the pretty poison” and what happens there will shape the bloods’ destiny forever.

I first found these books several years ago, and every time I read them I am drawn back into the world. Moving, funny, I’d recommend them to anyone who likes dark fantasy.

Friday, August 19, 2011

 Come to the launch at Red Brick Gallery and Emporium in Ballarat on September 2, 2011 @ 6:30pm and pick one up for $25. Cash sales only.
 Place an order with the author for a copy of the book. You will not be charged postage. Email to place your order
 Go to and place an order through them
 Go to and place an order ( )

More like 14 days and counting

16 days and counting... What else do I need to do
The countdown to launch day looms above me. All I can think is that I hope that the books get here on time. I hope that I buy enough food (keeping in mind I’m not providing meal type food but rather snackish stuff that they can eat while having alcohol). I hope I buy enough non-alcoholic drinks (bet I run out of those before I do the wine).What if I don’t sell any books? What if people don’t like my speech? Damn I hate speaking in public. Will the local paper remember to show up (I will be calling them a few days before to confirm).
I may be overworrying, but it’s what I do.
Well, the books are in Australia and have cleared customs. Now the waiting really begins. It could be any day that they arrive (except weekends). I try to remain optimistic but it’s getting harder.
Too much weighs on the success of this event. I’ve already un-volunteered myself for derby duties the day before, knowing that I’ll be a bouncing ball of stress and anxieties (all the more so if the books don’t get here in time).
All I can do is work one day at a time...
16 days to go

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

(Involuntary) Bunjee Jump Into Darkness

When I think about my own battles with the shadows on my path, I always mentally refer to bunjee jumping, involuntary.
I stand at the edge of a cliff, the darkness is far beneath me. My bare toes tentatively caress the edge as I hold to the barrier behind me with clammy hands. Then, something, so slightly, pushes me and I fall forwards, down into the chasm below. All I can see if the dark that is rapidly rising up to meet me. It’s fluid, like water and I try to pull away from it. My body buckles as the rope that is tied around my ankles reaches it’s limit and pulls me upwards slightly. My hair brushes against the surface of the dark, my outstretched fingers dip beneath the it.
All I know is the dark. It is all that I can see. I can either wallow in it or try to pull myself up. I bend slightly, try to touch the rope at my ankles. It doesn’t work. I wonder if the dark place is really all that bad. Tears sting my eyes and my muscles hurt from being stuck in the constant tense position.
I swing my body from side to side and back and forth. It makes me dizzy, but it’s the only way that I can get enough momentum behind me to reach the rope which is soon in my grasp. I hold onto it with clammy hands like the lifeline that it is.
One hand at a time, I pull myself up. I get halfway and my hands, too damp to hold the rope slip a little. I give a little scream as I fall back down into the dark.
I swing there, unsure what to do next. Maybe it would be easier to swing there, alone in the dark. I could just stop fighting and my body would eventually go numb and I wouldn’t have to fight anymore because my strength would be truly gone.
Then I reconsider, realise that if I stay there, I would never experience the joy of the light again.
I pull myself up again. This time when my hands slip a little, I keep on going. The light becomes stronger and I pull myself up onto the ledge.
I sit there, looking back down at the darkness. From this perspective, it is not comforting at all. It is terrifying. I’m not sure that I can cope with another fall like that. I scoot backwards away from the edge, afraid again of myself and what I could be capable of if I allowed myself to feel the dark again.
I don’t speak about it much. I try to tell myself that it’s because I don’t want to worry people, but the realist in me shakes her head and tells me that I’m still scared. Speaking it aloud makes it real and that means that I would have to live with the consequences of my choices.
I prevail, I fight back every time. I do it because I believe, deep down that I’m worth something, even if the surface me doesn’t think so.

Friday, August 12, 2011

let's talk: Religion and census

So last night was census night here in Australia and the big question on everyone’s lips is what religion did you put a mark next to? Or at least it’s on the fingertips of every facebook user.
Even before the census papers were printed, a facebook event had been created, urging people to write “no religion” on their census form. Why? To keep religion out of politics.
Great idea.
On my forms I ticked “no religion” because my religious choices were not listed among those on the list on the firms. I could have written it in the boxed provided, but I doubt it would have counted for anything.
Technically, I am not a religious person. I have faith in things, but not in an all-powerful-god-like figure.
I have faith in the good of humanity, even in the wake of what’s going on over in London at the moment.
I believe that our destinies are within our control.
I hope that when we die, we go to a place of rest. But I also believe in the existence of ghosts.
A few years ago I dabbled in experimenting with Wicca and Paganism, but I had trouble with the visualisation parts and my interest waned. Now, if put under pressure to determine what religion I am, I identify myself as a non-practicing Pagan who was a baptised Roman Catholic baby.
There isn’t a box for that.
Believe in what you want to believe in. Find a religion that is the best fit for you. That’s all I’m going to say.

clarification of ignorance

I had a post on the book launch’s facebook event page yesterday that the book was too expensive for so little pages.
This person, who does not know me, who knows nothing about my story was able to post this. Therefore I felt that I had the right to post a response brusquely detailing why I had come to that price, thus relieving them of their ignorance. They are not coming to the event. I feel that’s probably the best choice that they could have made. They also deleted their comment, taking with it my comment where I gave my reasoning.
The post pointed out the following (for those who might want to see it):
The price of the book was set in accordance with mainstream market prices for new books. It was also set in consultation with another self-published author, who actually told me that I was setting my price a little on the cheaper side.
I also pointed out that there was no obligation for people at the launch to buy a book (though it would be appreciated). I know better than anyone that has gone to book launches and art show openings that just being there, observing and listening and asking questions is support enough for some people.
What I did not explain, though perhaps I should, was that on future non-launch orders that are placed with me, I will not be charging postage on my orders (initially anyway). I can absorb that cost with having the books made, and shipping without cutting off any potential profits that I might make.
All this left me with a sour taste in my mouth. It reminded me of all those people who said that writing isn’t really work.
To all those people I issue this challenge:
45 000 words in a week. Your first draft is your only draft.
It cannot be about vampires vs werewolves, fallen angels, post-apocalyptic teens or anything else that is in the market at the moment.
Also it must be perfect. NO spelling, grammatical or continuity errors. Your characters should be well rounded. I must be able to feel like I am walking in your settings. I want to feel everything that your characters do.
Suddenly, not only does this become work, it becomes an impossible task.
I know that.
Which is why I point out that writing is neither easy, nor is it a weaker option for a career path. You must be able to pick the flaws out of your story. That takes time. You need to be objective enough to see where plot holes have been cut into the road of your story. Again, this takes time.
Perhaps ignorance is really the only option for those people who turn their noses up on creative career paths.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Confessions of an Exorcist *FICTION*

So, the first thing you need to know about me is that once I was normal. At least, I thought I was normal. I mean, it wasn’t like I had such a weird life for a kid. I lived in a small Victorian town that was too small to be considered a city and too big to fall into a rural area. I went to school during the week and brought home pages with my primary school scrawl emblazoned with those gold star stickers when I’d done well (and hidden the ones with the teacher’s red pen all over them in the bottom of my school bag and pretended they were not there). My mum made my lunch and worked at a local clothes store, cutting out material for the owners to sew up into clothes. My dad owned his own business and was gone from the first thing in the morning and got home promptly at six each night. We took holidays to moderately priced caravan parks and stayed in tents that barely held against the harsh weather. I truly believed that we would live that way forever.
I was thirteen when it all changed and I’m not just talking about hitting puberty and all the fun changes that that brought.
See, the second thing you should know is that, I am not crazy. I wish I could tell you that I’m just a compulsive liar making up these crazy stories to make you pay attention to me. I’m just not that person though. Sure, I like reading books written for kids back in the 80s and listening to tween pop, but that makes me eccentric and slightly weird. It doesn’t make me crazy.
You see, demons are real.
When you’re done rolling your eyes in disbelief, I’ll continue.
So here’s the stuff you should know about demons. Yes, demons can possess people. They also like to sit invisible in the corner of the room and whisper things to you while you sleep, creating nightmares and paranoid thoughts. They are incorporeal. This means that you can walk right through them, though I’d strongly advise against it. Oh, and they don’t just come from Hell. There are plenty of religions in the world that have evil manifestations in them and the demons come from all of them. This means that your usual Holy water, crucifix and Bible are not going to work most of the time. Sometimes you’ll come across a genuine worshipping Lucifer demon who slipped back to earth for a little fun, but lately it seems that those encounters have been lately too few.
Okay, now the illusions. A demon cannot make a deal with you. It can offer, but a demon that tries to possess you is just a middleman, or a teenager if you like, sneaking out to party while Mother Demon is looking the other way. They have their issues too. Also the belief that every single demon you encounter was once an angel with pretty wings, sparkly halo and white gown is a lie. Again, this comes down to the whole religion thing. Not all demons come from Christianity, some are from other religions and they have their own origin myths that they have to honour.
I guess you’re wondering what made me come up with this realisation. Like most people in the field, my first experience with anything demonic was through the personal experience.
Like I said earlier, I was thirteen. It was the middle of the week around eight at night. My mother had been acting weird all day. She was mostly quiet, though when she did speak, she swore. A lot. My mother never swore. Anyway about seven thirty that night, my dad turned to me and told me to go watch tv in the other room.
I heard the first scream about ten minutes later. It was my mother. I ran to the living room and saw my mother looking back at me with silver eyes instead of her usual brown. She started swearing at me. My father ushered me into the other room and handed me his mobile and told me to call Father George.
I made the call and then went back to the living room and hid beside the tv cabinet where my father wouldn’t be able to see me. I watched as my father spoke in a loud voice in words that made no sense to me. He threw powders at my mother. Each time those powders hit her skin it started to smoke, as if it was cooking from within.
Then, just as Father George walked into the room, my mother smiled a sick smile and then she burst into flames that were gone as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving only a charred body where she had been.
My father started to laugh then. I didn’t know what was so funny.
I was still so shocked at what had happened that I didn’t know what to do. I tried to keep from letting them hear me cry. My sobs reached the ears of my father. He turned to look for me, his eyes glittering silver, the same as my mother’s had been. I pulled myself in closer to the wall, hoping that it would he wouldn’t find me. I knew that something was wrong with him, but I didn’t know what it was.
The next part is a bit fuzzy, so I can only tell you what I was told later on by Father George. My father fought against the demon to regain some control of his body, long enough to stop it from hurting me. The demon however, didn’t like that and spontaneously combusted, and just like that, I was an orphan.
I didn’t know at the time, but there was a lot of issues regarding my guardianship. See, my father had a brother who thought that he was going to be my guardian. However, my parents knew some bad stuff about Ryland and decided long ago that they would assign my bringing up to Father George, an old family friend.
I wasn’t too concerned about the decision. I actually didn’t want to live with my uncle. He was always muttering and talking about things I didn’t understand. Besides, Father George made it clear that even though he was a priest, I wasn’t required to go to church unless I wanted to and he wasn’t going to interfere too much in my life.
Well, one promise out of two kept is alright. I mean, it wasn’t like he could keep the last one. When he got called in to my high school after I accidentally exorcised my year nine art teacher, he realised that some interference in my life as far as demons went wasn’t such a bad thing. So, he trained me. He taught me everything he knew about demons and how to get rid of them. He was the one who told me about demons coming from all sorts of religions. He also linked me in with the corporation when I turned eighteen so that I could work as an exorcist for the community, which, sad to say, keeps me a lot busier than I wish.
So, yeah, I’ve got a weird job and I don’t get paid all that well for it. I usually get enough to pay my rent and bills, with some left over occasionally for treats. Of course, according to my tax returns, I work in an administration role at the church. Well, we can’t tell people about the demons. What would they think? Well, actually, we know the answer to that one. They’d think we’re crazy and try to lock us up for just thinking it.
We are not crazy. These things exist. When you see them, don’t try to get rid of them yourself. Call an exorcist. Leave it to the professionals. Believe me, it’s better that way

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Let's Talk: Immortality

Even with medical advances available to us, literal immortality is impossible. There are too many elements that would still need to be considered before immortality could be gained. Despite that, people still seek it out. They want to be remembered, to be noticed, to be recognised as making a contribution to the world.
There is a part in all of us that craves this, whether we acknowledge it or not. Some people crave their descendants to know who they were through their actions or their creations. Others just want them to know that they existed.
There are celebrities who died years before I was born. When I see a picture of them, I know who they are and what they were famous for. Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, John Lennon an d many others that have become iconic immortal images which people still recognise because of their films or music. One wonders whether the celebrities of our times that died young will become just as immortal?
So what is it about immortality that pulls at us, begs us to pay attention to it? Is it immortal life that people are really seeking out or rather immortal youth and do they know the difference between the two? Immortal youth, like immortality cannot be literally gained, despite what television advertisements or plastic surgeons tell us. Our bodies were designed to wear out as they got older. Wrinkles and grey hair are natural, a part of that process, yet we do our very best to hide them.
Maybe it’s not death that we fear but rather facing life when our bodies are not in their top condition.
Immortality, literal immortality isn’t something that should be sought after. There are social, emotional, physical and psychological reasons for this. Would you be able to live in the future without anyone that you know? How would you change as you took in the world around you? Would you be able to cope with the world?
I’m not sure what I believe. Perhaps in the future people will look at Facebook and think that it was the silliest thing around, but at the moment, people just use it to say “I’m here, I exist, I matter”. Perhaps in this way they think that if people will remember them then they will become immortal in their friends memories for years to come.

Friday, July 29, 2011


I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I have a plan. I have a story on little cards waiting to be written, but when I look at it, all I think is “BLEAGH”.
Which is pretty much my while mind set at the moment.
I just don’t care about writing. I don’t care about this whole media support services thing I’m supposed to be working on. Of course that attitude would change if I had clients, but oh well, you can’t force people to do what you want them to do.
Pretty much, pretty much (Listening to Kate Miller-Heidke’s Politics in Space)
I tried to work on this new story and I didn’t get even into 100 words in before I thought that I didn’t want to write it.
It’s a re-do of a story I began writing back in high school. I stopped writing it when I realised it was becoming a little too “Buffy” in terms of certain scenes. Don’t get me wrong, I love Joss Whedon’s work, but I’m not going to rip it off.
When I began the re-write, I got halfway through when I realised that it had become “Dollhouse” instead in a lot of ways.
That could be why I’m just not caring about writing it because if I can draw these parallels then other people, much smarter than I will also be able to.
Back to the well.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Only broken if you say so

I have a self-destructive personality, I know that. I accept that there will be times where, when things get bad (or my perception thereof) I go into panic mode.
As I’m writing this I’m listening to Garbage’s song “Fix Me Now”... Timing?
Back to what I was saying.
I thought I lost my wallet and immediately I went into thinking about where I had put it last. That didn’t help because I realised that the last time I used it was at the supermarket. Okay, so go to the phone and start making calls. Three calls later (waiting for the office girl to get in) and I’m nowhere closer to my wallet... Heart starts racing a bit more and I tug at chunks of my head, tight enough to loosen attached hair, but not enough to leave me with bald patches. I start writing self-abusive facebook statuses, reminding myself that I’m really a stupid person (or at least one that needs a bit more adult supervision). I kick the couch (that hurt my toes a little), plus aiming a kick at the storyboard which hasn’t been restored yet to its upstanding place near the shelves.
I beat my hands against the bed, knowing that as I do it, that I look much like the child I am.
All this for a lost wallet, and the acknowledgement that I don’t have the money to replace all my cards and licences...
All this for a lost wallet that, it turns out, was not lost at a supermarket or left in a trolley in the first place.
All this for a wallet that was sitting under a blanked that was on the bed.
Immediately upon finding it, I picked up my gear and headed out to do what I needed to do.
Feeling foolish? Yes.
Feeling a bit on the destructive side? I was.
But I’m only broken if you say so.
Or I say so. I’m not sure.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Ferris Wheel e-store link

It's the link for the e-store... I'm getting a little excited I know, but it all feels like it's coming together

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Reality of a self Published Author

So it’s all becoming real.
I’ve just ordered the proofs of the books. All 3 of them. One for me, one for mum and one for dad. But they won’t get theirs until after the Ballarat launch because I’ll need them in Red Brick and Australian Active Aim to help promote it.
I’ve still got a lot of work to get done. I have to organise a promo flier (which is a tomorrow job). I need to rework my budget to allow for extra book purchases and promotion costs.
It’s all just beginning to feel very real.
There are no excuses on my part for not getting the work done, because what else should I be doing? At the moment I have no clients (I also need to rectify that) so I have the time.
It’s just the waiting for the books that’s going to be the hard thing. I’ll be checking the mail for those ‘while you were gone’ slips that the postman leaves whenever they come and you’re not here. That’s if a postman delivers it at all. It might come through courier. I have no idea. Plus I have to place the order for the actual books tomorrow (when I get paid again) and then that’ll be another day of waiting added to the mix. Thank the PTB that the exchange rate is in my favour at the moment. Makes it easier to handle the costs knowing what is on the screen is higher than what I am to pay.
So the date is set. But what if I don’t get the books in time. I know that I probably will but there’s a little voice in my head pointing out that it might not happen. I’ve paid for the 33 day delivery. Which makes it August 23 at the earliest by my count. Or September 4 if they don’t count the weekends.
I need a plan B.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Tell Me A Story... No Wait, That's Supposed To Be My Job

I need a new story to tell. Seriously. I don’t know where to go from here when it comes to novel writing. In a week I will be done with Ferris Wheel as it is. Wait, that’s starting to sound like the last blog. Okay. Letting go.
I’ve deleted a lot of files recently from my computer. Most of which never really amounted to anything saleable. I felt nothing in deleting them, no sorrow for work lost or missing hours. That probably means something deep and insightful, but I’m pretty sure I just don’t care about those stories anymore.
The only one that I couldn’t delete was Dark Destinies. That was my first novel attempt based on a script I wrote for screenwriting back at uni. Back then it was titled Calling up the Dark. Over time and many re-drafts, it became the story it is now. I can’t let that one go yet. One day I might do something with it, but it’s going to be a long time coming I feel.
So, as usual, my thoughts go back to Death. More specifically my death character M’Alice (I’m considering renaming her). I deleted all her old stories so I can start again with her and Candy (her exorcist friend). Zombies, Death and Demons, Oh My. (Hey, that could be a great title of the next book...)
So yeah, I’m hitting the planning stage again. Going back to the beginning. Meanwhile, just writing that makes me think of Lessons (Buffy episode 1, Season 7) where the First changes into all these incarnations of past big bads describing how things are going back to the beginning.
Oh my indeed.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

The 'F'Word... No, not THAT one

I’ve been thinking a lot about fat lately. My own and the way we perceive of others.
For my part, I know that the weight I’ve put on is from laziness and self-indulgence. I make no excuses for it. I know what the bad foods are and I still eat them, assuring myself that roller derby will make all the bad calories go away. Hell, I ate half a tub of Caramel Cookie Madness the other night, reasoning that we had a 2 ½ hour scrimmage a few days later.
I used to be obsessed with my weight, to the point where I weighed myself every night and morning and wrote down every little fluctuation. At the time I couldn’t recognise the obsessive behaviour-ness about it all. I just was worried about those extra grams that had been added while I was asleep. Back then I didn’t define between the fat and the muscle mass. I just thought your weight was your weight.
I kicked that habit as soon as I came to uni because there weren’t scales available to me in the bathroom. Instead I focused on healthy relationships and my studies. When I went home in the holidays I’d weigh myself and compare it with where I was at the last time I had been home. Most of the time I’d remember.
I still weigh myself when I go back for a visit. It’s probably a more realistic view on my weight gain or loss because I’m an infrequent visitor. On average, I put on 5kgs a year if I go from xmas visit to xmas visit, with gains and losses unacknowledged between. If I see a rise in my weight I question if it’s fat or muscle (because thanks to derby it’s a realistic question to ask), but I don’t obsess over those little kilograms. I’m happy that I’m still in the double digits (albeit sort of high).
I call myself fat, but I don’t like anyone else calling me that. I know I have a weight issue, but I don’t make excuses or ask for sympathy for it. Most days I exercise because it helps me be more productive when I’m sitting at the computer for long periods of time.
Fat. I own it. But don’t call me it without knowing what made me the way that I am.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Creative Dork Within

I’m kind of a creative dork. Like, for instance, today, I sit at my laptop with a beret on my head. The only reason I’m wearing it at all if because I was wearing it when I went out earlier and I couldn’t be bothered with the removing it. Plus, my head might get cold.
The creative Dork is a part of all of us, waiting to rise up in some ways. She’s the one who makes us buy pens in all different colours, stacks of paper that we will probably never use and is comfortable looking like a cliché.
Actually I think I look cute in a beret but I probably should consider not wearing it in the house.

I have spent the last five days of my creative writing time contemplating Ferris Wheel, making sure that the text all fits into the createspace template (and boy was that a fricken hassle), then redesigning the cover art and making it all PDF only to realise that there are still some errors that need to be removed. So I get to make it a PDF tomorrow.
My aim is to have it all sent off to createspace by Thursday. That means no more rewrites or anything after that.
I am a little nervous. When I first started this I had thought that I’d need to buy three copies of the book, just for myself. One that I would keep as pristine proof of what I can accomplish, one that I lend out to people who can’t be bothered to buy their own copy, and a third that I would write all over, making little additions and corrections to it over and over again.
So it’s going to be a lesson in letting go. Letting go of what I think I need to do and instead just doing it and not complaining about it all the time.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

A little bit of honesty

Mental Illness is a weird thing. As soon as you reveal that you have one, people look at you differently. They try to work out what makes you snap or they whisper about you behind your back, calling you crazy.
I have depression. Plus some social anxiety aroung crowds. I tend to disappear into myself, not saying much but just watching the people around me. I join in on the occasional dance or pool game, but deny the opportunity to sing in public solo. I don't pretend that I'm having a ball if I'm 'just there' and I don't try to fill the void with meaningless conversation.
I question my worth, I question why I should feel the way that I do when nobody else around me appears to.
I sleep little and as a result I am constantly tired, running on less energy than the people around me. I chug down energy drinks and cut price cola to renew the little energy that I have.
I rarely let people see me cry.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


I've come to realise that I write a lot of dark stuff lately, especially when I write poetry. I talk about the numbness, the overwhelming dark and trying to find a way out that doesn't lead to ultimate self destruction. Which is why, I guess, I write poetry in the first place, to find a refuge for that pain and the emotions that I cannot control or easily speak of.
It makes it easier to let these feelings go into cyberspace where people known or unknown to me can read them.
This is the way that I'm dealing with it for now. Who knows where my head will be in the future.
Until then I have my blog


Sometimes I feel hollow,
Empty of what makes me real.
Given instructions I have to follow,
None to set me free.
A ghost of what was once life,
I feel nothing.
I wonder if anyone notices at all.

If a tear falls and no one sees it,
Did it really happen?
If a woman screams out loud, but no one hears,
Does it really matter.
Alone, hidden in the dark,
Does it matter at all?

Have you done the right thing?
Or have you done what's easy?
Did you act because it felt right?
Or did you just do what you wanted to?
Was the voice whispering in your head your own?
Or was it an echo of another?
Were you free to make your own choice,
Or were you forced to choose?
Have you ever cried at night,
knowing that your choices were not right?
Did you scream out loud.
knowing that you were the one to blame?
Right or wrong,
A choice was made.
Now you have to live with it

Do you see what I see?
Black cloaked in colours of every hue
The darkness within breathes
It shudders from the cold
Yet I feel nothing at all

Kicking the war for the end of the world

Kicking my post-war story aside for the moment. It isn't coming together and it's just frustrating me that I have so much work to do just to make it make sense.
So I've hit my prompt kit and come up with THE APOCALYPSE. It seems like a reasonable path as we've already had one false end of the world prediction this year and we're due for another one this October...
(If it does happen and digital media survives and people are reading this post-apocalypse then my face is a little red right now)
But yeah, I think I'm onto something here. It's not going to be just one story. It's six people telling their last day on eath. I'm going to tie them all together with characters appearing in stories not their own.
Should get to it

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Do you believe in magick?

Magic is still a part of world, despite ancient fears and attempts to discourage belief in it. Just because we cannot see as we would a material object, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there, just out of reach unless we are open to it. These beliefs were once the norm before they were repressed and hidden from persecutors who didn’t want to understand what it was all about. These practices became obscured, still practiced but rarely spoken about except in kindred company.
Despite the repression, belief in magic has prevailed. As people rebelled against their government, they also rebelled against traditional religions by looking for alternate options. Witchcraft saw resurgence as people, not satisfied with mainstream religions, started studying it along with other mystery religions. They read books and magazines or attended rituals designed to worship and inform. Those were the people that wanted to learn, to expand their spiritual horizons.
Fiction writers saw this interest and realised that they could increase interest in such topics by including magical elements in their writing to generate interest from their readers. It is possible that fictional magical worlds, like those created by writers like J. R. R Tolkien and J. K. Rowling are in some part responsible for the resurgence in magical beliefs. When the Harry Potter series was first published, there was uproar from religious communities because of its portrayal of magic. They only saw the magic, and not the themes hidden in the subtext of the books, such as friendship, loyalty and living by an ethical code (all of which are universal).
There is no longer a fear of being hunted down and killed because you believe in something different to other people. Witch-hunts are no longer part of the norm. While people are still reluctant to accept witches as part of their society, they are not willing to hurt them for being different.
It is that desire to believe in magic that shapes us as children. It fuels our imaginations and makes us seek out fairies in the garden or chase pirates away from buried treasure. These things, while acceptable when we are children are frowned upon if we were to do so as we get older. We learn as we grow. We stop believing in Father Christmas, The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and instead worship other new gods shown to us on television or in the pages of glossy tabloid magazines. Rarely do they show interest in expanding their own spiritual horizons as teenagers out of fear of being cast out of their friendship circles. Instead, they wait until they are adults and then, slowly, that interest returns and they spend copious time learning all they can from the internet and books published on the topic.

Friday, June 24, 2011

The Monster at the End of the Book

Are young adult books too dark and too confronting? According to Meghan Cox Gurdon, author of the article Darkness Too Visible (featured on the Online Wall Street Journal), they are. Of course, it would be easier if young adult fiction only depicted happy shiny lives with no pain or relatable issues, but there’s no such thing as completely happy people, even in fiction.
The article is quick to point out that books where a character self harms or goes through other self-destructive behaviour is giving voice to issues that would otherwise be silent. It posits that these behaviours might become a choice for young people if they read about it. It’s true that there is reason to be cautious as an author writing about self harm, abuse, sexual behaviour, drug or alcohol use that you might lead someone down a path that was otherwise unknown to them.
That being said, if a parent is aware of the issues that come up in the book, it could open up discussion within the family about healthy coping mechanisms and where real help can be found. These issues will always be around us, they’re just not being talked about as openly as they should be.
Young Adult fiction books reflect aspects of life that some teenagers endure. The monster at the end of the book is ignorance if we pretend otherwise. Yes people are hurt by others. They also hurt themselves. They use drugs or alcohol to escape from their pain and they question their sexuality. Refusing to read a book that depicts these things will only help you to remain ignorant to them.
Just because you read about these things does not mean that you’re going to make the same choices as the characters. That should be the message that parents should try to share with their kids when they ask questions about the issues raised in fiction. Being aware of how and why these things happen will help people to be more socially aware and able to cope when or if they are ever confronted with these issues in their own lives.
Literature needs have changed. A genre that didn’t exist until the 1960s is now a prevalent part of the bookstore. Young readers are being drawn to the dark gritty covers, hoping to find within them a world that they can somewhat connect to.
Maybe a rating system or warning label on the cover of books is where the publishing industry is headed. I wonder though if it would make a difference to the reader?

Yeah, that happened to me

I've been accused of being a liar, performed demeaning duties under the guise of education, discriminated against and told that what I want for my life doesn't matter. As a result of this, my self-esteem and self-worth have wiltered while my bank account dwindled.
So, why did I subject myself to these horrors on aq regular basis instead of walking away?
Simply put, because I had to. There wasn't a viable choice. That's what long term unemployment is about. You have no real options other than to do what other people tell you to, become who they tell you to be. If you don't want to do what they say and pull out of the system, you have no income at all, which in my case, would have led me to move back in with my parents. That's so not an option. Love them, but I think we'd drive each other mad within a week.
The system has its benefits sure. You get cheap public travel and medication and a meagre income as long as you do what they ask of you, but that's about it.
I've heard stories about people who've cheated the system. If these stories are true then the system DESERVES to be cheated. After all, who would believe a long term 'dole bludger' from regional Victoria really applied to NASA to be an astronaut. Yep, apparently that happened.
In the past I've been afraid of speaking up about the ill treatment I've undergone through these institutions because I was told "That's the way things are" and I believed it.
Over time I've realised that other people have been subjected to other ugly behaviour from these institutions (up to and including religious descrimination). I even tried to write an article for the local paper about all of this, but it was never printed. It was possible that it would run, after all the editor asked me to rework the original piece, but in the end it never ran.
People on the dole are referred to as lazy, self indulgent and unwilling to work. That's the stereotype that my job networks have fallen back on in order to define me. For the record, I have never been that person.
I want to work, I just want to be in a role where I'm happy and respected, not demeaned and will eventually quit because I'm not happy.
I refused to change who I was to get a job. That included a staunch refusal to kiss ass to get a meaningless job.
I regret little. Only the not speaking up part.
But yeah, that happened to me.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Print Ninja

I'm a print ninja. That was my first status yesterday on both facebook and twitter this morning while I was at my ex-job network.
Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating.
And I'm also probably not supposed to be even considering using their printer anymore, but the way I've got it figured, they owe me that and a hell of a lot more.
See, a few years back I heard a rumour that job networks get paid $5000 when they first take on a client and get another $5000 when the client is put into full time work for longer than six months. That applies to job seekers who find work without any 'help' from job networks.
And here I was thinking that I wasn't worth a dollar amount...
I'm now wondering if they get paid this money now that I'm off the dole and technically self-employed. I'm supposed to be on their post-placement-support program for the next 23 weeks you see which is the same program that employed people fall under.
If they get that money and I hear about it I'm gonna be pissed. At least 70% of that money should be mine.
I decided without their help to apply for NEIS. I decided that my business would be based on the skills I already have (the same skills that they scorned). I filled in the application forms without their help.
Now, they get the kudos and the money?
I'm bitter, yeah. But seriously, how do they justify all that money?
Guess they're okay with being paid for doing next to nothing. I wonder how it is to be that arrogant?
That's why I don't feel bad about ripping them off when it comes to paper and ink.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Get it clear in my head

I've been writing for a long time so I know what it means when a story isn't coming together. The same goes for an article.
It means it's time to reboot and start all over again with a new approach.
I've hit a wall with the article I'm working on. I can't get past the opening paragraph. This used to happen some times when I was working on essays for uni.
It still happens occasionally when I'm creating a novel. I'll get up to 20 000 odd words and then realise I've got about three or four subplots going on and no real plot or way to reconcile any of them.
I need to get my arguments clear before I start writing. My head's a little messy about it because I've got three different points or arguments to make within a small space. I have to clear about what I'm saying and what message is the most important.
Oh the joys of being a writer.
It's never as easy as it seems is it?

Friday, June 10, 2011

Big news!

So, big news. Bigger than big actually.
I landed my first client for the media sector of my business.
I know, shocker right? I actually didn’t expect it to happen, but I think I got in contact with them at the right time for both of us.
So, who is my first client? It’s Ballarat Regional Multicultural Council and I’m helping them get as much press coverage for Refugee Week 2011.
I’m the first to admit that I don’t know a lot about refugees and what they must go through in order to make it over here, so it was a bit of a challenge at first to do some research on the topic, just so I sounded like I knew what I was talking about in the press releases. I didn’t want to rely upon clichés or stereotypes because that wouldn’t be a great way to show my skill level on my first job.
So while I’m playing the waiting game for them to approve of the work I’ve just sent in, I can play catch up on my other three projects: keeping the website up to date (; working on the new novella and also trying to write an article for the Ballarat Independent.
Yup, I’m a busy little writer girl.

Monday, June 6, 2011

No more bitch work

I don't put my hand up to be someone else's bitch, to do the work that they are chosen to do. Especially when they think that they are doing me a favour by asking me to do so.
I do not have a "why yes, I am your bitch" button pinned to my top, but there are those who seem to think I do.
No one puts value on my skills unless they want to make use of them, but then they balk at the cost. And yes, now there is a cost to pay for my skills.
They assume that I have the time to do what they ask because I don't work for someone else. They don't see the time I put into every single project that I take on. They don't know how difficult it is to delete a file that is going nowhere, or even harder to still to recognise it without getting all "but this is the best story ever".
I don't like using sob stories to get what I want. I think it's kind of tacky. I mean, I had a bad year last year, tons to deal with and I still did everything that I was expected to do and then some without the aid of a bitch to do some of it for me.
I guess not everyone is as capable as I am.
The totally screwed thing is that I'm the one with low self-worth.
Strange, isn't it?

Thursday, May 12, 2011

The Great 'what if' moment

I could be in business in less than a week.
How freaking scary is that?
I mean, seriously. I am completely panicking about whether or not I’ve got myself into more than I can handle...
What if it doesn’t work?
What if no one wants to by what I’m selling?
What if I end up back where I started from?
Yeah, reality’s starting to hit me. I’ve began stress eating, stress sleeping, stress everything really. That cannot be good for me.
I think I’m just panicking too much, but then I’ve still got so much work to get done, just on the paperwork side.
I need to get my insurance paid for, which means going to my job network and asking them for money. I think I’m going to make an appointment for Friday so that I can spend Thursday loading up my usb with stuff I need to print seeing as it might be the last time that I can use their printer. Let’s be realistic about this, that’s all I truly use them for, because they’re definitely as useless at getting me work in the fields I have skills in. Oh wait, that’s right, they don’t count my skills as anything anyway, just because of how they were gained.
Okay, step back, breathe.
Will soon be free of them and their judgement and their “You must think like everyone else to be successful in this world”. Remember how good that will feel.
And it will feel so good to be free of them.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Burning tiaras and other weird things of late

So, yeah, I tried to burn my tiara. Actually that’s not accurate. It’s not a tiara. It’s more like a crown that’s made out of plastic. And I wasn’t trying to burn it, I was trying to melt the ends together so it wouldn’t break open in the middle of the party and go flying off and hit somebody. It didn’t work, whatever I was trying to do. I don’t know if it was the wind blowing around me as I sat on the footpath outside (I’m not that stupid that I’d try to melt plastic inside) or if the plastic might be flame retardant but it didn’t work. So now it’s being held together by a plastic clip. If anyone asks, it’s decoration.
I know enough people with kids that I can offer it to someone as a contribution to their dress up box so it isn’t sitting around my place.
Not that I have anything against weird headwear. I have a witch’s hat which I love. I don’t know where it is (I just realised this as I’m typing this blog).
My car by the way still looks like a bug graveyard, but at least I can see out of the window without looking through bug goop.
Here’s a quick run down on what I’ve got going on at the moment...
 Saving money to publish Ferris Wheel
 Realising that my phone number was google-able. Yeah I quickly fixed that.
 Creating a twitter account...
 Thinking about putting together another Ferris Wheel related video
 Plotting a new story and then beginning to draft it. I should be doing that now but I’m doing this instead. There are definitely some plot issues to work out there.
 Also putting together the ideas for my whole non fiction piece. Which could be why I’m not drafting creative pieces as much as I should be
 General house stuff, but if you want to hear me whine about that go over to facebook because that’s where I usually do that stuff.

Yep, I’m a busy little weirdo.
Oh and my knee is still killing me

Thursday, April 7, 2011

It's all about ebooks

It's all about ebook publishing this week...
Check out the link above to see what I've got for sale
I wrote this short story a few years ago and after much cullling I've published it as an ebook and also designed the cover myself

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Playing games is ok as long as no one gets hurt... right?

We all learn how to play mind games whether we consciously want to learn them or not. We either play them with other people or have them played on us. High school is the training ground for this and will set up how we see these games in the future.
For those that play the games, it’s a rush of power, knowing that you can manipulate others so easily.
For those that have to play the victim, it’s a whole lot harder. As soon as the trap is sprung, they know that they have been caught doing something completely out of character.
In high school, students use mind games against each other all the time to manipulate their friends and enemies. Mostly it is females that use this tactic to subtle bully each other as it is harder to trace or prove that it happened. Instead, the only remaining lasting effects are left on the victims who, if they know that they have been manipulated, feel guilty and refuse to talk about what has happened. Those who are oblivious to the games being played on them usually find themselves repetitively falling prey to mind games in the future whenever the alpha female needs to feel powerful again.
Unfortunately mind games are a part of the high school experience and things aren’t changing. Technology allows these games to go cyber, with Facebook and MySpace at the forefront of controversy when it comes to cyber bullying. These games of psychological torture will not come to an end unless the people are responsible are made aware of the effects of their actions and punished accordingly. That way they know the true cost of manipulation of another’s life for the fun of it.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Poetry from the last couple of weeks

Close youe eyes,
Tell me what you see.
Can you feel my tears fall?
Can you hear my pained call?
If you could see what I see,
Would you still think that I'm fine?

My pain is pushed so deep
I only feel it when I sleep
There is nowhere I can turn
No one wants to feel the burn.
No one wants to hear my pain,
They are all to busy with their own.
I am truly alone.

~ ~ ~

Cry for the fallen
Cry for the moments stolen
Recall, if you can,
How it felt when you heard the news.
Did your heart shatter,
Did anything else matter?
Do you remember the feel of the tears as they fell?

Weep for the loss,
Scream for the memories stolen
Remember who they were.
One day it won't hurt anymore

~ ~ ~

Open your eyes,
Open your mind
Experience it all
Everything that the world has to offer.
Acknowledge the pain,
Feel it rip through you,
Survive because there is no other way.
Laugh when you feel it bubble forth
Find joy in everything that you do
be alive
Because that's all you can really do

Monday, February 28, 2011


Very frustrated...
Very annoyed...
This story is NOT coming together. It’s still a complete and utter blur. All that I have is a bunch of questions that I can’t answer at all.
I think I just need to take a step back and assess the story. See if it’s actually worth developing it further than the short story it is at the moment.
It just annoys me because I’ve put in a lot of work in the planning stages, getting those questions writtten and now I feel like it’s been a waste of time.
So annoying.
So frustrating.
On to the next project I guess. I’ll put aside my notes until I feel the characters speak to me again. Maybe by then I’ll be able to answer the questions that I have.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

overtired eyes

I've been writing a lot of bits and pieces lately. Mainly just blog type articles that I hope will garner me an income at a later date. I'm doing all the prep work so that when it comes to starting my business post-neis then I will have stuff ready to go.
That's if I get in.
It's still kind of in hiatus mode as I wait for them to tell me what's going on. It's making me really unfocused and a little jittery. I don't like waiting this long for an answer. I ned to know what's going on now so that I can make plan of attack for the next coupld of days...
I need coffee. Like really bad. This morning I got up, had a shower and then sat on the bedroom floor for five minutes just staring at the carpet. Really trippy stuff. My overtired eyes started playing games with me and it made my horrible hodgepodge carpet seem as if bugs were moving all over it. Kinda glad I didn't drive over to the library today (drivers in wendouree are probably also glad).
I hate waiting...

Thursday, February 10, 2011

random 25 things post

1. I learned how to swear in Chinese from watching "firefly"
2. One day I want to be a published author
3. I do not believe that job networks know what is best for everyone (despite thinking they do)
4. I hate party lines
5. I look after other people better than I look after myself
6. I don't usually respond to forwarded notes
7. I can be annoying at times when I ask questions (lots of them)
8. I am afraid of deep water and cannot jump into the deep end of a pool or go on a waterslide
9. I believe that everyone has the right to their own opinion, but not everyone is enlightened enough to see the truth
10. I think we're all a little crazy on some level
11. I read over 700 books last year (but at least 50 of them were constant rereads)
12. I am a Joss Whedon geek - I love all his shows
13. When I was 19, I rolled a car on the way back to Ballarat and it freaked me out
14. People who talk aloud to themselves freak me out a little - am I supposed to pretend not to hear them?
15. I read a lot more than I write
16. I am a sugar addict - it makes me happy
17. I believe that everyone has the right to make their own informed choices and that no one has to be a sheep unless they cannot think for themselves
18. I apply for jobs I do not want to keep the government from cutting me off and making me homeless (or making me have to live in my car until I had to sell it cos I cannot pay insurance)
19. I am not afraid of spiders, like I won't scream when I see one, but if there is one inside, I will kill it to stop it from biting me (unless its a daddy longlegs)
20. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get up the guts to do something really important with my life
21. I hate it when other people make me question my worth. They have no right to
22. I think the people who have the power are too busy bring pleased with themselves that they are not willing to listen to anything that might help them to better use said power.
23. I have absolutely no idea what my derby name might end up being - seriously. No idea
24. I will master not falling on my butt when I roller skate by the end of Fresh Meat - seriously, yesterday's injury still hurts a little.
25. I always aim to only work on one story, but then a character pops itself into my mind and I feel like I should at least try to write something about them. 20 odd thousand words later I have a story that needs serious culling

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

I don’t know how I managed to do it, but somehow I was able to convince the people at BRACE that I was NEIS material, at least initially. I got into the pre-NEIS course. A big sigh of relief on my part. I had to call them about it because I hadn’t heard anything yet. I’ve got a meeting with my job network this afternoon, so I kind of want to know where I stand with NEIS before I sign anything with my job network that I don’t need to.
I know that getting into the pre-NEIS classes still don’t mean that I’m doing the whole program thing, but it’s a lot closer that I thought I would get. I mean, I still might completely stuff it all up yet, but I’m trying this whole not being negative thing.
Otherwise, I’ve just been doing derby stuff and re-working bits of Ferris Wheel. Actually, I’m going to start another print round this afternoon while I’m at my job network. I’m going in early so that I can do bits and pieces that I put off yesterday because my computer had a conniption fit when I tried to even go on gmail. I should make a list of what I need to do, but I’m kinda in the can’t be bothered place again.
It’s been going on for a while. Unless I’m working on ferris Wheel, I’m not actually doing anything worthwhile when it comes to my writing. I’m pretty sure that I have writer’s block. This blog is the first bit of writing I’ve done in a while that has come directly from my mind and not from inspiration through tarot cards.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

in the cards

I've always liked tarot cards, even before I owned a deck. I was obsessed with knowing all that I could about them.
I brought my first deck when I was on my break year (the year I took off between uni and high school). It wasn't a traditional deck by any means. I don't know where the cards are anymore. I had to stop using them after I got a little too obsessed with knowing what was going to happen. I started to treat them like radio horoscopes. In the end I put them aside and tried to like my life without the guidance they gave me.
For a while, it worked. But after my grandfather passed away in my first year of uni, I found myself looking for something.
I found the cards as part of a fortune telling kit.
I've read for myself and for others. I've seen breakups, money and much more. I have an 80% success rate when i read for other people, whether they realise it at the time.
I also use the cards in my writing. I'll use them if I don't know where the characters are supposed to be heading or where the story would go.
What happens next? It's in the cards