Dear Channel 9
The Footy Show is not ER. There is no Luka. Bah humbug to you.
Dear Channel 10
House rocks. You win.
March 29, 2006
March 26, 2006
PS A reminder
Because I came home last night and found a BIG one of these smack in the middle of my security door chowing down on a poor defenceless grasshopper (half of which is still hanging on my door cos it's gross and ewww a big hairy gross spider was touching it and I haven't gotten around to cleaning it off yet), I am issuing a reminder of Mel's rules for spiders. I was quite clear about these when I moved in. I'm sure I broadcast them on the right psychic frequency for the local bugs but apparently we have some new kids on the block who haven't gotten the message.
For the record I don't like spiders. I'm fine with mice, rats, snakes, lizards and other creepy crawlies. Even sharks (though I'm not saying I want to come across one) but spiders I've always hated. Eight legged freaks is right. I've gotten better over the years but huntsmen (that's what that is for you non aussies who are lucky enough not to have them in their country, a huntsman) still, to quote Buffy, give me the wiggins. I'm amazed I'm not still standing on my front porch going "eeeeeeeeekkkkkkk". Thank God I'd left the porch light on so I didn't go blundering up to it in the dark (ick, ick, ick). Lucky it ran the right way (aka away from me and around the corner) when I bravely banged on the door with my handy gardening trowel). Sorry to my neighbours for the midnight thumpings.
So Mel's rules for spiders.
Rule 1. I know you have an ecological role to play but play it outside my house. Unless you are a daddy long legs or some teeny weeny harmless money spider, if you come into my house, you will die. This goes double for whitetails and the big icky hairy ones.
Rule 2. Outside my house, if you are of the big icky hairy variety, you'd better stay where I cannot see you. If I can see you and you're somewhere I have to be near (like my freakin front door) or somewhere that looks like you might get into my house , see Rule 1. Death, yours.
Rule 3. My car. Do not even think about it. You will die. I will probably crash. It will be bad for both of us.
Rule 4. Addendum for my current crop of daddy long legs. Some of you are getting quite large and doing freaky things like eating your babies. This is gross. If you get too gross, see Rule 1.
Rule 5. Mum, if you read this, picking up huntsmen is weird and wrong and they will too bite you.
To sum up, spiders leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.
PS UGH UGH UGH
For the record I don't like spiders. I'm fine with mice, rats, snakes, lizards and other creepy crawlies. Even sharks (though I'm not saying I want to come across one) but spiders I've always hated. Eight legged freaks is right. I've gotten better over the years but huntsmen (that's what that is for you non aussies who are lucky enough not to have them in their country, a huntsman) still, to quote Buffy, give me the wiggins. I'm amazed I'm not still standing on my front porch going "eeeeeeeeekkkkkkk". Thank God I'd left the porch light on so I didn't go blundering up to it in the dark (ick, ick, ick). Lucky it ran the right way (aka away from me and around the corner) when I bravely banged on the door with my handy gardening trowel). Sorry to my neighbours for the midnight thumpings.
So Mel's rules for spiders.
Rule 1. I know you have an ecological role to play but play it outside my house. Unless you are a daddy long legs or some teeny weeny harmless money spider, if you come into my house, you will die. This goes double for whitetails and the big icky hairy ones.
Rule 2. Outside my house, if you are of the big icky hairy variety, you'd better stay where I cannot see you. If I can see you and you're somewhere I have to be near (like my freakin front door) or somewhere that looks like you might get into my house , see Rule 1. Death, yours.
Rule 3. My car. Do not even think about it. You will die. I will probably crash. It will be bad for both of us.
Rule 4. Addendum for my current crop of daddy long legs. Some of you are getting quite large and doing freaky things like eating your babies. This is gross. If you get too gross, see Rule 1.
Rule 5. Mum, if you read this, picking up huntsmen is weird and wrong and they will too bite you.
To sum up, spiders leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.
PS UGH UGH UGH
Or else
Turns out it's or else. Which in this case has translated to lots of cleaning (always a sign of avoidance ; ) ), not enough sleeping and dinner out last night with friends. Then we went to see Match Point. Interesting. I don't get Woody Allen. Or rather I don't connect with his dialogue rhythms. They jar me. So hmmm.
I have a thing about dialogue. And a thing about rhythm. And when they don't work for me it's the equivalent of hearing or watching someone scraping nails down a blackboard. Lots of wincing. There are some writers I just can't read or really have to wade through the writing to read. It's a rhythm thing and when it's wrong, it's wrong. Others I sail right along with no problems and the best are the ones where it feels completely right.
I thought Jonathan Rhys-Myers did a good job at playing a disturbing character. And now I need to watch Bend It Like Beckham again to get evil Jonathan out of my mind.
Other things filling the not writing space have been contemplation of my house. And things I want to do to it. I so should stop watching Oprah when Nate Berkus is on. He's gorgeous, he's talented and he makes me look at my place and go "I need to do this, and this, and this, and this". Only problem is Oprah does not then come along and give me the bucket load o'money I need to do these things. Or the cute designer to do it all for me.
Maybe in that other life. The one where I have the harem and the big house.
In other news, Aussies have made a stellar showing in the Golden Heart (go Karen and Christine) and Rita finals. Particularly Bron Jameson with a triple!!! final and Marion Lennox with a double. Also up are Lilian Darcy and Anne Gracie. Anne's book A Perfect Rake is one of my faves from last year.
Go Aussie go!
Okay, back to looking for my own rhythm now.
I have a thing about dialogue. And a thing about rhythm. And when they don't work for me it's the equivalent of hearing or watching someone scraping nails down a blackboard. Lots of wincing. There are some writers I just can't read or really have to wade through the writing to read. It's a rhythm thing and when it's wrong, it's wrong. Others I sail right along with no problems and the best are the ones where it feels completely right.
I thought Jonathan Rhys-Myers did a good job at playing a disturbing character. And now I need to watch Bend It Like Beckham again to get evil Jonathan out of my mind.
Other things filling the not writing space have been contemplation of my house. And things I want to do to it. I so should stop watching Oprah when Nate Berkus is on. He's gorgeous, he's talented and he makes me look at my place and go "I need to do this, and this, and this, and this". Only problem is Oprah does not then come along and give me the bucket load o'money I need to do these things. Or the cute designer to do it all for me.
Maybe in that other life. The one where I have the harem and the big house.
In other news, Aussies have made a stellar showing in the Golden Heart (go Karen and Christine) and Rita finals. Particularly Bron Jameson with a triple!!! final and Marion Lennox with a double. Also up are Lilian Darcy and Anne Gracie. Anne's book A Perfect Rake is one of my faves from last year.
Go Aussie go!
Okay, back to looking for my own rhythm now.
March 23, 2006
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.
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.
March 20, 2006
Sleeping is good
Ugh. Up way too early. 11 hour day at work. Need sleep.
Finished Sebastian last night. I'll give Anne Bishop full credit for continuing to come up with very unique worlds and visions. I'm looking forward to the second one.
Also read on the weekend, Lord Perfect by Loretta Chase. Loretta is one of my fave historical authors who writes witty, sexy unique books and LP didn't disappoint. I'm going to have to go back and read it all over again - slowly this time.
And I think all my brain is up for tonight is trashy TV, if there's anything on that isn't related to the Commowealth Games or a repeat.
Finished Sebastian last night. I'll give Anne Bishop full credit for continuing to come up with very unique worlds and visions. I'm looking forward to the second one.
Also read on the weekend, Lord Perfect by Loretta Chase. Loretta is one of my fave historical authors who writes witty, sexy unique books and LP didn't disappoint. I'm going to have to go back and read it all over again - slowly this time.
And I think all my brain is up for tonight is trashy TV, if there's anything on that isn't related to the Commowealth Games or a repeat.
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