Numbers

I think the year has officially reached the completely-crazy-lead-up-to-christmas part where the to-do list and social things and the year's goals and a thousand other things start to form a hectic sort of tangle to conquer before it's time for time off.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

At this time of year, my virgo brains starts making list and calculations and numbers. Right now it goes something like:

1 revision due in 2-4 weeks
9 sleeps until U2 concert
1 election to vote in
2 parental birthdays in the next 10 days
1 orange cat to convince that 5am isn't breakfast time and sleeping all night is good
20 sleeps until the Bon Jovi concert
7 months til my next book is due
34 sleeps until Christmas
At least 3 big day job projects to finish
1 spinning class left
6 or so Christmas functions
1 complete nanowrimo fail
36 sleeps until Kitten day

And the list goes on. I'm looking forward to a well earned post Christmas collapse! Until then, caffeine is my friend!

Anyone else eyeing the silly season to-do mountain with a mix of anticipation and trepidation?

The end is nigh

Tomorrow I return to the naturopath where hopefully we will see the end of the detox diet. In fact, definitely we will see the end of the detox diet because if she says I have to keep doing it, I am putting my foot down and demanding some modifications.

I want to keep eating healthily, apart from a reasonable, sane level of treats. After all I still want to lose some weight etc. But the key to sustainable healthy on the whole eating, is variety. There's a reason that very strict diets don't work. And it's mostly because without variety, you get bored, bored, bored and start to despise all the healthy stuff you're eating and be consumed with an overwhelming desire to see how many Krispy Kremes (or insert sugary, fatty, snack of choice here) you can eat before you explode just because they, to quote lolcats, haz a flavour.

I'm nearing that point. I don't want to turn myself off all the good stuff, so there has to be a relaxing of the rules before I go nuts and buy out Haighs. Two weeks with no caffeine, sugar, wheat, yeast, dairy, fruit, alcohol, anything fermented or potatoes is a long, long, long time. I have distracted myself with writing and work and lots of other things (aka lots of whining) but something's gotta give.

Let's hope I have good news to report tomorrow.

Re-organisation

The problem with having moved all the stuff OFF the carpet is having to put it all back.

I've been trying to figure out whether I can move anything around as a bit of change but keep coming to the frustrating conclusion that small house and my current furniture needs = no real opportunity for change. I am a frustrated furniture arranger.

The room with the most scope for moving stuff around is the spare room (well, cats' room). But given it IS the cats' room and is mainly storage, there isn't a lot of point. It can never be an office (cat fur and computers don't mix) or a bedroom while I need a room to keep the cats in at night (the orange cat will not just accept a closed cat door - he will scratch and wail at it all night which equals cranky Mel), so it will stay mostly a junk room. Hopefully it can be a tidied out junk room sometime in the next few months but I see no point in shifting furniture around in there until I start buying bookcases (with doors so I don't have cat fur covered books) and need somewhere to put them.

So all I can do is sort a bit and throw some stuff away and put everything back where it was. Dust free and somewhat tidier but the same otherwise. Gah.

Much like my current wip. It's going slowly so I keep thinking maybe I have to move stuff around or bring stuff forward. But given I don't have that much detail yet, can't do that. Just have to keep slogging away. Which seems to be the answer to most things.

Words words words

I may have mentioned I'm doing a big project at work with lots and lots and lots and lots of documents. I've spent the week typing and fiddling and formatting and typing some more.

All while dealing with a sudden fit of cranky pants. You know, the sort of mood where someone could hand you a million dollar cheque and the typeface would annoy you so badly you'd want to punch them. The sort of mood where you're probably best staying home in bed with the covers over your head not talking to anyone because talking annoys you. But that isn't really an option so instead you get up and move through the days with sort of rumbling refrain of 'grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh' in the back of your mind. As you type and type and type. The type of mood that isn't improved by inutterably tragic events unfolding. So you type and type and type and snarlingly demand what the heck is going on to the universe and offer prayers for the lost and the grieving.

And then if you're lucky, and believe me, I know I am unbelievably fortunate, you get to come home and type some more.

I feel like there's a Word toolbar floating in front of my eyes. I think I'm going to switch for Scrivener and alphie for the weekend, if only for the change of scenery. I managed to sweat out the cranky pants on the elliptical the other night but I'm still feeling a little typed out. And I have a crick in my neck that's going to be remedied by my wonderful chiro tomorrow. I hope. Otherwise I might just be putting the cranky pants back on.

I mean, I like words. I'm a writer. But sometimes you get sick on black on white and the tip tap tap of the keyboard for hours on end. I'd swap to longhand but this story doesn't seem to want long hand at the moment. So more typing it is. Another 26 pages and I'll hit 200. Or halfway. I hope. Should be do-able in a weekend. If I don't commit word-processor-a-cide in the meantime.

Let's hope the world is a better place next week.

Things I have learned this week

1. Writing synopses doesn't get easier with time. I am convinced they are an arcane form of writer torture and possibly contravene the Geneva Convention.

2. House still rocks.

3. The writers of ER need to stop with the dying babies. Particularly when said baby is the most freakin' adorable baby chimp ever. Enough. I am out of tissues. The VT would be proud of my sappiness. Not quite as bad as 'Faces in the Mob' but close. And for those of you who have never seen the documentary 'Faces in the Mob' and are inclined to animal sappiness, I say "DON'T DO IT". FITM follows a bunch of kangaroos for over the time of two females getting pregnant and raising their joeys. One is a good mother. One isn't. You can guess the end result. That's right. Me crying for something like four hours. My boyfriend at the time came home, took one look at me and figured someone had died. He asked "What's wrong?". I believe my response was something like, "snuffle, snort, sob, the ba-a-a-by k-k-k- snuffle sob blow -kanga-roo-ooo-ooo."
"The kangaroo what?"
"d-d-d-dieeed. SOB SOB SOB."
The net result of which is I got one of those male "what weird female hormonal shit is going on here?" looks. And kept crying. Seriously, one of the saddest things I've ever seen and I'll stop before I start ranting on ethics in documentary film making and the ability to intervene when a joey gets separated from his mother and is being stalked by dingos. Ooops, too late.

4. If you have a cold and get a flu shot, the results are not necessarily going to be pretty. Excuse me while I hack up a lung.

April - how did that happen?

Well, it's April Fools Day and Melbourne is celebrating by suddenly realising it's well into Autumn and turning cold, wet and windy. Though the sun is shining right now, I have the heater on and am wearing a polar fleece. Last week I could've had the air con on. Melbourne, where the people are nice and the weather is moody. Better than the other way round I guess. At least I have a very nice picture of Robbie on my calendar for the month. For those of you who aren't Robbie converts, all I have to say is, if you've ever wondered what the "IT" factor is, go see a Robbie concert. Charisma, sex appeal, humour and a great voice (plus he scrubs up quite nicely). mmmm.

As does this guy....though Fillionaire is a way dumb term.

Writing wise it's been a bit of a stop start week but I think my partial, after last weekend's paralysis, has now just about come together. A couple more run through and tweaks and it should be good to go. Which leaves me with the unenviable task of having to polish my very rough brain dump synopsis into something that makes sense and works. Synopses are no fun. Even the most exciting story can sound lacklustre and trite when you pare it back to two pages. Gah. I don't know anyone who likes writing them. But it's part of the biz. I'm just telling myself after I do this I get to play with the paranormal for awhile. I want that one and the short one finished in the next three or four months. I foresee a lot of typing in my future.

In other news, April is going to be a great month. A new Crusie (well, a CrusieMayer), a new Samuel and a new James. Life is good.

Stuck

Man this week has whizzed by. And tomorrow is my day off. Yay.

The only downside this week has been a distinct lack of co-operation from the muse. Who is currently sitting in the corner doing the muse-ly equivalent of "neener, neener, neener, not playing, nuh-UH".

I know exactly what I have to do to these three chapters. But I cannot sit down and do it. Which I'm sure has nothing to do with the fact if I finish them I have to send them out and the WAITING will start all over again. Or other pending things we are trying not to think about or general puzzlement about where my voice fits. Nooooo.

Not sure what the solution is unless I start drinking very early tomorrow morning. It's gonna be one of those chain yourself to the chair days. Cos I will get this done. Or else.

Not exactly sure what the else is though.

My muse is so much not playing that she sent me another story in a dream last night. Very, very vivid dream and again a distinct point where I thought to myself "this is a story, pay attention". Something to do with a beach with very white sand, a dead sister, two cottages and a hero who I think has a child (so not me). I so do not need another wip right now so all this is getting is some notes. The other books are talking too. All except the one I want, which is kind of just muttering faintly in the back ground while the muse contemplates the unfun-ness of the revisions it needs.

I hate being stuck like this where you can kind of feel it all waiting for you in the distance but it feels like there's something big and sticky and foggy and hard between you and the bit of the brain that writes. Not sure how to shake it. I have fed the Girls the West Wing, Love Actually, Jenny Crusie, Diana Wynne Jones and Terry Pratchett they wanted. Not sure what else to do.

Apart from let it suck and just get the words down. Just in case no-one knows this. WRITING IS HARD.

2 steps forwards, 1.99 back

Well, this week has turned out to be not so good for writing. Busy days at work, followed by a family drama thursday morning that wrote off my day off on friday and saturday. Apart from finding some good hand stretches, writing progress, approximately 1 line thought of drifting off to sleep last night. On the other hand I did listen to Joss make mucho sense about story choices and other general geniusness on the Serenity commentary which I was listening to in the background while doing housework last night. (Do I know how to party on a Saturday or what?)

Today was my crit group meeting so that at least is writing related but not actual writing of the producing words kind. Still much fun was had, much good work critted, one imminent bub celebrated, two puppy updates received, one report of cute medicos in the Ferntree Gully region and one weirdo naturopathic diet tested (kudos to the virgo friend for willpower above and beyond the call of the female love of chocolate in the face of not one but two boxes of mint slice balls and assorted other temptations). And I acquired a Robbie Williams calendar for a bit of inspiration (thank you Borders bargain calendar prices). Still total writing progress approximately one line and a few ideas for tweaking the pages I had critted.

Tonight will be playing catch up on the various weekend adminish type tasks necessary to keep the house running and balls in the air for the coming week. Projected writing, still zero. Sigh. And sigh again. But there is NOTHING on TV (unless there's any iceskating on the Winter Olympics coverage), so if I zip through some stuff and manage to wake up from my too much sugar and junk induced energy slump, maybe I could do a page or two.

Otherwise, new goal for next week - finish chapter three and get this sucker of a partial in shape. Onwards and upwards as they say.