Roller Derby Training Musing

I was watching roller derby training last night, seeing how skaters whipped off of each other when I realised, not for the first time, that since I began roller derby several years ago, a lot has changed in the evolution of the roller derby whip, at least for my league. I'm not an expert or anything remotely cool like that. I choose not to do contact now that I'm not aiming to get my star levels of minimal skills, but as I watch, I do notice how things have changed. It used to be that, as the person giving the arm whip, that you weren't allowed to hold onto the other skater. You were just there to give up some of your momentum to help them. I can see the point of directing skaters on the right path though, but sometimes it seems a little less powerful. It's more noticeable, to me, watching them give and take booty whips. It used to be that you really pulled on another skaters hips, really almost pulling them to a backwards stop, now it's almost a gentle caress of their hips as people skate past. It is probably just a change in the way that we're training as opposed to a genuine fear of whipping properly for fear of hurting your own team-mate. It's also possible that I'm just rambling because I haven't blogged in a while.

Image for this blog piece taken from: http://www.kaboodle.com/reviews/whip-it-roller-derby-t-shirt

Muse Missing InAction

I haven’t written anything new in ages. It all seems to be rethinking old ideas that flourish brightly but never make it past the whole ‘idea’ stage. It’s the dreaded Writer’s Block, here with me in all its nasty blankness. Even writing this is like a trial, feeling like I’m using up space on my computer where something else might go. Instead of writing I’ve been thinking, stressing and making fun of reality tv and the people that populate them because that seems to be the extent of my brain capacity lately. Even putting together a submission for a publisher takes me forever, thinking about what to write instead of letting my instincts take over my fingers. There isn’t much else to say. Other than: “Hey Muse, come back! I want to be a writer again!” Please come back muse. I miss you and the work we create together.

Simply The We

It all began with a simple, united voice speaking to me of identity loss and other painful things. It all began as a way to stay awake while sitting in Parliament House during debate time with the youth parliament. It looked like, to the casual observer, that I was taking notes about each bill. I was really writing a story. Elements of that original story still remain in future drafts, the words a powerful reminder of where things began. It's simple. It's The We. Actually, it's not that simple. Nothing ever really is though. It is a social commentary that is my way of exploring the issues that have plagued me while I have looked for work. The lack of control over my near future is something that I have fought against, along with the fight to maintain a personal identity. I didn't even realise when I first started writing it how close in theme it was to George Orwell's 1894. Over the years, it has overgone many reworkings. One of the things that I struggled with as a writer was maintaining the universal voice. By intercutting it with articles and a single voice, I have been able to better explore themes and ideas that, while writing as a universal voice, would not have been done so. The paranoia that the characters feel is very real. In reality, jobseekers are monitored closely, though not as closely as represented in the story. I believe it speaks to those very real fears we all have that someone's watching our every move, looking for us to make an error. Security cameras watch us in public. We are aware of their placement. We know that if they are watching us, if is likely that if we do something wrong, they will catch us. This story is my way of venting my frustrations as a system that sometimes seems unfair and unjust, While some of the thoughts expressed are my own, most of which is simply exaggeration.

A Writer Growing Up

Let’s take a step back in time. Not a massive leap or anything, just ten short years to look at what I was writing back then. This time ten years ago, I was halfway through my first year of university. I’d almost finished my first semester doing a uni course [as opposed to a TAFE one] and realising that I might actually be able to make it. My stories were dark, horror noir, slasher types without any real insight into the whys or hows the attacks were happening. Or they were ghost revenge stories. There was no real depth to them. Just straightforward exposition/dialogue/description pieces that were a filler to the anthology my Diploma course put out at the end of each year. I was still in that whole ‘oh my god I’m at uni’ mind-space. It was a big step for someone that no one else expected to leave home, let alone my home state! At the time I was experimenting with the ‘slice of life’ type stories that didn’t need to have a beginning or a conclusive end. My characters rarely, if ever, got a happily ever after. My central female characters had a bit of Buffy in them, because of how much time I spent rewatching old episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and marvelling at Joss Whedon’s story creation. I think, at that time, I was working on a piece that surrounded a central female character with telekinesis who was working in some sort of factory with her friends, each one possessing some ‘supernatural’ ability. Then they all went to a training facility to teach them how to use their powers. Then The X Men came out and I realised that, even without knowing about this world, I had created something similar. So I put mine aside while I worked on other projects. Flash forward to now: I experiment with different genres. I wrote Ferris Wheel in the magical realism genre. Dark Destiny is a horror with supernatural overtones. I’m currently working on a dystopian noir fiction piece that is a speculative look at the unemployment system. Now though, I understand a bit better about the psychological insights into each of my characters. I want their motivation for their actions to be clear to myself as a writer, and to the reader. I understand the need for action that progesses the story as opposed to brings it to a screeching stop. Growing as a writer doesn’t mean that you have to necessary let go of what you know to create something new. It’s a lot about building on what you already have within you to create something else. Something different. And not being scared to show another that this piece came from within your mind, dark and scary as it might be.

Drawn to Writing

I’ve been thinking about what I write, why I write it etc. Not altogether riveting stuff to some, but I thought I’d share a bit of it anyways. Genres: I’m drawn to writing genres like speculative fiction, gothic horror, fantasy, dystopian fiction because there are elements in them that connect to me at a deeper level. As a reader I’ll read anything, but as a writer, I get pulled towards the darker aspects. I studied each of these genres in depth at uni, connecting with them on a larger scale than other topics possibly because I understand the depth and darkness that these stories can encompass. Characters: Every one of my characters is flawed because humanity in itself is flawed. If I were the religious type, I might say that we’ve been flawed since that day in the Garden of Eden when Eve ate the apple. In Ferris Wheel, Sasha and her co-workers are all so flawed, each one seeking out a way to make the world better for themselves without care for anyone else’s desires. Themes: I have a slip of paper next to me with the themes of my next book, which echo throughout all of my story drafts. These include power, control, conformity and the exploration of human’s darker nature. It disturbs the reader, makes them uneasy, which as a writer, I understand, but keep pushing at those boundaries. In my life, I struggle with each of these things on a daily basis, fighting against the idea that I have to be what another person tells me to be. I fight against conforming to the concepts others present to me, and I do constant battle with my inner dark demons which, as I’ve stated in facebook statuses of the past, are nasty little bitches willing to put up a fight of their own. As a reader, we are drawn to things that allow us to connect and escape from our mundane realities. As a writer, I am able to explore, in depth, those things that challenge and scare me on another level, bringing out a lighter or darker outcome as I choose.

Hitting the highs and the lows

I hit the highs and I hit the lows. I pretend that I’m okay, When all I want to do is cry. I fight the darkness that surrounds me, Telling myself it isn’t real. I scream inside while my mouth remains silent, A placid look of disturbed peace across my face. Can you tell what goes on inside? Do you feel the way I shatter, Only to be remade anew in a day’s time, Pattern never the same as before. Prey on the weak, Pray to your gods, Tell yourself it’s for my own good. You don’t have the scars. Aphorism 1 The good moments are not as permanent as we would like. Reality merely creates the illusion of happiness and pleasure which covers like a plastic plaster the fractured darkness within. What we must do is understand this and grasp the moments of light, cherishing them for the promise of hope they present to us. Then when we inevitably experience the fathoms of the dark, we appreciate the preciousness of the light. Aphorism 2 The giving of advice should only be done by one with real knowledge and/or experience in the area causing discontent. Those who recite what they see on television in an attempt to help another may cause more trouble than they intend.

Sickly Mess

Getting sick sucks. It’s a pile of snotty, cold tissues in the bin lost in a haze of medication to stifle the illness until it finally dissipates. Okay, so I maybe sick, but I’ve at still at least got my usual way with words. Bright side to everything, which has been a bit hard to find for me lately. It’s pre-winter by at least 1 ½ weeks. Already weather has hit zero degrees and I’m wondering if I can find a pair of gloves that I can write in. My nose hasn’t really stopped running since Saturday morning and I am close to reclaiming my title as Mucus Queen. I am epitomising the word ‘gross’ at the moment. The hard hitting cold and flu is coming at me, and so, in return I’m doing as much as I can now so that if I do get laid up with it, coughing my guts up, at least I’m ahead on my work. Then I can dose myself up on cold and flu tablets and really kick this thing in the guts. At the moment, I just feel weak, overtired and achey, but I’m not sure how much this can be aligned with the upcoming cold and flu as opposed to the darkness in my life that I’ve let get to the point where it’s out of hand. I spent Saturday morning in tears, feeling like a complete and utter failure because I didn’t meet my goal of selling ten books at the trade show I attended the night before. I don’t believe this was due to my ineptitude as a writer or retailer, it’s simply that the people there weren’t interested in the depths to which this book seeks. It didn’t help my mood that I was informed on the night that I had sold a book a few weeks ago, but hadn’t been informed of the sale. There’s an angry email in the internet 1s and Os at the moment trying to clarify what exactly happened. Fortunate for the person whose fault it was, I didn’t name names, not did I use the word ineptitude to describe how this person acted. Bleagh. I need to go blow my nose again!