A moment of brutal honesty.

As the title of this blog suggests I am going to be completely and brutally honest with myself and anyone who takes the time to read this post. If you have long ago decided to stop reading my struggling, intermittently updated blog I can not really blame you, if you are still reading I thank you profusely for hanging in there!

Let's start with the obvious, and a point I have dedicated a whole post to in the past... I am a procrastinator! With all good intentions I keep putting things off till later, I make excuses for not doing something right this moment and then before I know it the time is too late to start, so I promise myself I will do it tomorrow. Tomorrow I find other things to take up my time, or struggle to catch with looming deadlines.

After a while I feel guilty for not doing something and actively look for ways to avoid it. A great example of this is (and I am not proud to admit this publicly but I am being brutally honest) washing the dishes. I have gone almost a whole week without filling a sink with water and washing our dishes. The first night is easy, I assure myself I will get to them in the morning, of course I choose the extra hour of sleep before getting ready for the day job over washing last nights dishes. So now I tell myself after work I'll do them, after work I am tired and the last thing I want to do is wash dishes just to dirty more. I tell myself I'll do them after dinner, now we have a HUGE pile of dirty dishes and my tummy is full, I just want to relax before bed. Three or four days of this and there are no clean pots and pans, I really should wash the dishes, it looks like it will take hours though so instead we have a take-out night...YAY no cooking and no dishes...except for the ones I am now ignoring! I turn the ever mounting pile of dishes into a subconscious elephant in the room, when I finally get around to doing them it takes less time then I thought and I feel so much better for having finished them, I promise myself to wash the dishes every day....but maybe not tonight’s dishes...I'll do them tomorrow!

Lets take this scenario now and apply it to every part of my life. My Upcoming wedding, walking the dog, Facebook, Twitter, my writing and both my blogs. The only place I don't seem to fall into the procrastination trap is my day job, which is quite odd because my writing means so much more to me than working retail! Days off are so stressful because I don't know what to do first or how to catch up with all the things I have put on hold. I haven't had contact with my celebrant in 4 months now and she is waiting for the forms I have to fill in, I should do this, but will it shock her to hear from me? I could easily talk myself out of contacting her at all and she is a lovely lady. It is so bad that I am even telling myself I don't need to get married we should just call the whole thing off and stay the way we are now...except I really really want to be married, I want to be Mrs Saunders legally not just as a pen name! Best I stop procrastinating and get in touch then, right?

The second part of the shameful lack of productivity in my non-work life is I lie!

Mostly to myself and possibly not always on purpose, is it still lying if when I tell Mr Saunders I am going to work on my WIP I mean it? I noticed the other day I don't make decisive statements it is always “I think I am going to”, “maybe I will”, “I might” or “I will try”, that way if I don't do what I said I have an easy out, I never said I was definitely going to do that. I often make plans to hang out with people and back out of them later, because I really didn't want to do it in the first place, if I have kept plans I have made with you then you are someone important in my world. I should just be honest and say, I don't think that sounds like something I would enjoy, instead I say that sounds fun I will try really hard to make it. The truth is It doesn't sound fun, I don't want to do it, I am too much of a homebody to enjoy going out (even to your house) but I will try and talk myself into it. Maybe I should try just saying the truth.

My writing is again the sticky one here, I love writing, and while editing my WIP is slow and arduous and not as much fun as coming up with the story I enjoy it when I finally make myself sit down and open the editing suit. I wake up many mornings and convince myself I will write/edit, yet the day gets on and I never come and sit down at the computer. This moment right here is the second time I have sat at the computer since Sunday (it is now Wednesday), before that it was three months since I looked at my Facebook, twitter account or even spent any remarkable time near a computer. I sit here now telling myself it just isn't good enough and I will do better! But how can I trust myself? My integrity is truly lacking when it comes to doing what I set out to do. It must be time to start doing what I say I will and not agreeing to things that do not sound fun, there is no shame in being content with a quiet lazy life. People may think it is rude to turn down an invitation because you just don't feel like leaving the house on a weekend, but isn't not showing up or making excuses for not being there after saying you will even ruder?

I'm not sure I can do much about being a procrastinator, but I am positive I can improve the integrity of my internal dialogue, no longer will I say “yes but” from now on I will say “no because”, I will not make brash statements that I will blog weekly and check Facebook and Twitter daily, but I will try and be around more, I will try to not let three months of procrastination and excuses pass by and if it does I will be honest about it. Juggling life is hard, Management in retail is time consuming, I need time to decompress, and sometimes I just want to spend time with Mr Saunders or my daughter. However I am going to make an effort to be more visible and keep plodding away at my WIP. I wanted to be ready to look for a publisher by the end of 2013, that is not going to happen, I'm not going to make a rash statement or promise here but lets aim for Easter. If that doesn't work, Christmas 2014.

Do you think I can do it? What have you been procrastinating over? Maybe we can work together!

Excuses, excuses, excuses or Busy, busy, busy?

I have been racked with guilt for the last few weeks, I seem to keep ignoring things I should be doing. this can be an issue as I am a HUGE procrastinator. The problem is I am not sure if I am procrastinating or just really busy. I could ask people their opinion but then we just add “needy” to procrastinating!

I came back from a wonderful holiday full of renewed vigour and determination to do more. I really meant to be busy, busy, busy, and it feels like I am but it isn't the things I want to be busy with. My big plans of organising all the final small details of our wedding, my determination to upload one blog post a week, keeping Facebook and twitter up to date and even editing the WIP have all fallen by the way side.

This is the fourth week since my last blog update, Facebook and twitter have definitely been neglected, I haven't looked at my WIP since returning from holidays, and wedding plans are in an indefinite holding pattern. I keep meaning to make time, but whenever there is a moment with nothing to do or no one to see, I sit down with a book, play a game, watch a movie or stare into space. Then I feel guilty because those two or three hours could have been spent doing any number of tasks on the list of things I am going to make time for.

I realise that the body, mind and soul need relaxation time and for me reading a good book is the greatest kind of relaxation, without taking time out the creative juices will cease to flow...right?

Everything I read about writing and becoming published tells me to sit down and write whether I feel like it or not, get up earlier, go to bed later, stop watching TV, lock the door and write. I thought this was sage advice, I tried to follow it. I gave up computer games, television, movies (I still read, why write if you don't read?), pretty soon I was doing nothing but the day job and writing, except I wasn't writing anything good, I couldn't keep my mind on the editing process, I was becoming indecisive and reclusive.

Friends were asking why I wasn't seeing or speaking to them, the day job was a chore and I was way to tired to be there anyway having stayed up late with my ineffectual writing. So after my holiday I added spending time with the people important to me and quality time with Mr Saunders, This meant late nights and trying to cram writing into weird times. A change in habit is a procrastinator's worst dream, It makes finding the time so much harder and the excuses for not finding the time so much easier.

I haven’t been able to find much time for the computer, Christmas is approaching and the day job is getting madder by the day (as retail does with the onset of the silly season), Huge amounts of over time, then cooking and cleaning, when my day off comes around I sleep, spend time with Mr Saunders, catch up with a friend, or as I am today organise family dinner with my daughter and her girlfriend. When all of this is said and done I would kill for a few minutes to myself so I read, have a long shower or just stare into space.

Add to this my two weeks trying to beat the worst flu I have had in years and you get a lot more sleeping. It seems hard to say I am too busy to write when all I seem to do is work, sleep and see a couple of friends. Writing (as fun and wonderful as it is to create new worlds and imaginary friends) is another kind of work, and one that takes a lot of mental and creative energy. If I don't take the time to recharge and re-energise how can I do justice to the worlds I am trying to get down onto paper?

Having put my rambling thoughts down into a blog update (YAY!! one thing done!) I am still not sure if I am making excuses or genuinely busy, What are your opinions? Do you find life getting in the way of the things you wish you could be doing? Do you feel guilty for not enough done?

Relaxing is exhausting!

 I think I need a holiday to recover from my amazing Brisbane holiday Extravaganza! Don't get me wrong, I feel quite refreshed and energised, but it was an intense couple of weeks. I was expecting leisurely days under trees just me and a good book (or my laptop), what I got was madness. Joyous, staggering, undeniable, non-stopping madness!

There were very few moments of peace and quiet and some days it seemed like everyone was clamouring for our attention. Mr Saunders and myself have never felt so popular. The downside to this of course was the overwhelming (albeit at times self imposed) pressure to give up things we really wanted to do, or time we wanted to spend alone to see everyone who desperately wanted to catch up. We didn't get to catch up with everyone and Truly we are sorry, but there are only so many hours in two weeks and we used every single one of them!

We began our holiday by going to Imbil and saying goodbye to Mr Saunders' stepfather, a truly amazing man. Alan will be sincerely missed by everyone who knew him, being able to see his memorial stone out in the forest on his favourite corner of the rally track was a touching moment that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

After the quiet and reflective weekend the Catching up began, not just with friends and family, there are places in Brisbane that mean a lot to Mr Saunders and myself, places we went together on dates as well as places we had never seen together before. There was shopping to be done and glorious food to be had, as much as I like Mt Isa it is not a town that offers the culinary or fashion choices of bigger city.

It seemed every day was a fast paced reckoning, a race to get as much in as possible, by the end of our first week we knew there was no possible way we could fit everything we wanted in and the sacrifices began. 

We didn't want to seem ungrateful or rude but it was just not practical to afford every person we knew an individual time to catch up with us. Some people may think it is rude that we did not chase them down and pinpoint precise times to catch up personally and at their convenience but if we allowed ourselves to work around everyone else's availability we would have gotten even less time to enjoy the sights. As it was we wasted a few days waiting for people who didn't make it to meet us at the time they said they would.

Rather then dwell on the parts of our holiday that didn't go to plan Mr Saunders and myself decided to prioritise our remaining time and make the most of the places we could see and the things we did do. We bought clothes and shoes and other products not available in Mt Isa, we walked around Brisbane city taking in the beauty and sights of a city we miss and spent much needed time with family. The highlights of the trip for me, were many, Yum Cha at King of Kings Seafood Restaurant (the place our wedding reception will be held) with a group of old and dear friends, Margarita’s at Cactus Republic with Mr Saunders and the Beautiful Timeetee, as well as Dinner at Le Classic French Restaurant with mum and Mr Saunders.

A lot of the highlights revolve around good company and good food, both of which are very important in my world. Mr Saunders and I treasure our friends and family, and being the die-hard foodies we are can not go past an opportunity to share amazing food with the ones we love. Indeed my two top highlights from the holiday also involve food, on our last full day in Brisbane we headed out to Red Hill and ate lunch in a small, local kebab shop called No No's, a place we would eat at every week when we lived in the area. Walking through the old neighbourhood and eating the best kebabs on offer in Brisbane was a great way to reminisce. We even bought some other Lebanese goodies to bring home with us.

The best day of the entire trip however was definitely our anniversary (or what would have been our wedding day if we had not postponed it.), We spent an entire day together with just the two of us. 

After a nice breakfast we walked through the Mount Coot-tha Botanic Gardens and stood in the lychee garden which is where we will stand again next year when we finally get married. 

We had Mexican ( Cactus Republic again) for lunch before a relaxing walk through South Bank, a reservation at Sono for dinner was the perfect ending to the day. We had the Zen Course complimented with sake tasting, plum wine (for me) and Japanese beer (Mr Saunders), one of the best anniversary dinners ever!

It was an amazing holiday but I'm so glad to be home, we both missed the babies very much, I am even looking forward to returning to the day job and will be making an effort to find more time for writing. I look forward to our next trip away though perhaps we will go somewhere a little less hectic then a city where we know so many people, I’m going to have to put my thinking hat on and find a place where unlike the bar Cheers, nobody knows your name.

From song to story: A flash fiction event.

not long ago I was feeling like a joiner, so I took part in a an end of month event in a writer's group I follow on Facebook. The premise was simple, A 500 word flash story inspired by one of your favourite songs. It was not the easiest thing to put together.Both the length and interpretation of a song I have listened to a million times making it much more arduous then I imagined when I first sat down to "knock it over" in 30 mins!  I was quiet happy with the results however so I thought I would share my first piece of flash fiction with you all. Feel free to leave your own in the comments!

Where the Wild Roses Grow, (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, feat Kylie Minogue)

“Don't blink, don't blink!” This is the mantra going through my head, if I blink they will know I'm not dead. I am not sure why but I really don't want these men in blue uniforms to know I am alive. They look at me with pity, their eyes are so sad, but I can't trust them I can't trust anyone. I don't remember how I ended floating face up in the river, why I came down to the river at all. What I do know is my head hurts and I'm cold, the kind of cold that creeps all the way down to your bones, I don't feel like I will ever be warm again.

Finally, they start to move away, one lingers at the water's edge. He is familiar but I can not place him. I feel like I know him, but from where? He crouches and tilts his head studying me.

“Don't blink, don't blink, don't move!” I really don't want this man near me, I don't want him to know I am still alive. He looks over his shoulder then turns back and smiles at me.

“Oh God, he knows I'm not dead!”

Even through my fear, this man is beautiful, as he reaches to touch me I will myself to stay still, I long to feel his skin against mine, but I really don't want him to touch me. He runs his fingers down my cheek, he is so warm and I fight the urge to shiver in delight.

“My sweet Rose.” His voice is intoxicating, I would follow this man anywhere, he terrifies me, but still I would follow him if he asked. My name is not Rose however, he has me confused with someone else. He leans forward and takes something from my mouth, a rose I didn't even know was there. He holds it to his nose and inhales deeply looking into my eyes with such intensity I am sure he can see through to my very soul.

He is staring at me.

“Don't blink, don't blink, don't let him know.” Just when I am sure I can not keep my eyes open any longer there is a noise behind him. He jumps up and quickly stuffs the rose down his shirt, he blows me a kiss.

“Now you know where the wild roses grow!” He turns and walks away as my soul screams.

“Blink...blink...blink now Elisa!” But I can't blink, I can't move, I can't tell him I am not his rose. It all comes crashing back to me, the beautiful new policeman that came to the diner, if only I hadn't been the one to pour his coffee, if only I hadn't smiled.

If only I had known where the wild roses grow!

Why do we do what we do?

I have a habit one I am sure I share with many writers, both new and old, published or otherwise. I read every interesting blog I can find about writing or hosted by writers. I have open tabs on chrome of blogs I have found links to but not yet found time to read and even an in-box full of posts from blogs I have subscribed to. Every now and then when the backlog of unread blogs gets too high I sit down and commit to an afternoon of blog reading.

One of these blogs I subscribe to The other side of the story, posts quite regularly and has been filling my in-box with links to new posts making me feel first lackadaisical and then guilty. If you subscribe to something you really should pay it the attention you have implied you would, it is a social contract and as Sheldon Cooper would tell us “...If that contract breaks down, then all social contracts break down, and we descend into anarchy.”

I do not want to be the cause of any anarchical dystopian world (well actually I do...but only the ones I create in my head to put down on paper), so I set aside some time to read a few of the many awesome posts from The other side of the story. One of these was a Guest Author spot by Michael Kinn posted back in early May. I must say Kinn's post Speculative Ninjas for the Win! Really spoke to me, it inspired me, not to sit down and write but to try and define what it is about writing that captures my soul.

At a time when my personal life is quite stressful and the fun part of writing (the actual writing) seems like a distance memory as I am bogged down in editing and proof reading my WIP, Michael Kinn's guest blog (The Other side of the story, May 10 2013) was exactly what I needed to read, in it he tells us that:

“Whatever your occupation, someone is bound to ask the dreaded question: “Why do you do what you do?” Great if you happen to be a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon. What if you’re, say, a writer? Why do you write?”

At first glance that seems like such an easy question, I ask it of myself and I feel the answer deep in my heart, right down to the pit of my stomach. I write because I have to....I need to...I want to...It relieves the daily stress, calms the nerves, gives my over active imagination an outlet. This is not really the answer people want to hear, it is not clear or concise, I am pretty sure only another writer or artistically inclined person would understand the sentiment.

This answer also does not explain why after the actual writing is done and the pain and headaches (yes I'm melodramatic...I am writer for gods sake!) of editing and proof reading so my baby is ready to be pitched to virtual strangers who will not all be kind.

So why do I do this? Why do I write? Why do I embrace all of the aspects of being a writer, even those that are no fun? Why do I identify as a writer when I have never been published? Why do I want to be published?

I'm looking for the pitch Michael Kinn says is important, that short and sweet, flippant statement that explains everything and nothing, but I can't get to this unless I know the longer answer.

Why do I do this? Why do I write?

The easiest way for me to understand my own feelings and make sense of my world is to write about it, make it a story. I have a tendency to have very vivid and sometimes disturbing dreams, the emotions raised by these dreams will often stay with me well into the next day. A nightmare can actually ruin my whole day if I can not get it out of my head. Because of this I started writing my dreams down a long time ago, I have a dream journal that I use, but a lot of my more vivid dreams take on a mind of their own and become long and involved stories. My current WIP is actually quite a few snippets of dreams that took on a life of their own and joined together.

Why do I embrace all of the aspects of being a writer, even those that are no fun?

This is a simpler answer, If I am going to anything I am going to do it properly. I am stubborn, I am a perfectionist, I give everything I undertake one hundred percent. Writing the story and getting it out of my head is fun, but I want my story to be the best I am capable of, I want my story to be complete and consistent. I want my story to be something I am proud of! After all my mummybear has always told me, without pain there is no gain.

Why do I identify as a writer when I have never been published?

I wanted to be writer ever since I read my first book. The only thing better then curling up with a pot of tea and a good book is curling up with a pot of tea and writing. Writing makes me whole, it makes me happy, calm and centred. If I don't write the voices in my head start yelling and screaming to be heard.

Some of my best friends are the characters I write about, I can have conversations with them, I can interact with them...of course if I walked around talking to imaginary people I might become very familiar with the inside of a padded room!

I am a writer because that is what I do, it is what my imaginary friends demand I do, If I stop writing they will never become as real to the rest of the world as they are to me.

Why do I want to be published?

Largely for my own ego, I want the validation of being good enough for a publishing house to look at. I would be lying if I didn't include that truth.

Who doesn't want the accolade, and euphoria that comes with other people not only reading your work but telling you it is good. I have never had a five star review, but can't wait to become published and find out just how amazing it feels to get one.

On a more modest note, writing is my dream job, If I could chose to do anything it would be to be paid to write and share my worlds with other people. Getting published is one step closer to living the dream.

So what is the short answer? What is my pitch? What would my answer be if Michael Kinn asked me 'why do you write?'

Quite simply, the answer has to be:

I'm too crazy to know any better!

Now it's your turn, Why do you do what you do? Do you have a choice in what you do? Do you enjoy all aspects of what you do? Are you working towards living the dream or are you already there?

Making the hard decisions sucks! No really it seriously sucks!

There is something about acting like an adult and making hard but needed decisions that makes my inner child chuck a tantrum so big and loud it can be seen on the outside. Most of the time I can keep my inner tyke contained or at the very least bribed to stay quiet, recent decisions however have tested and broken my steely resolve to be a dignified adult.

Due to (partially) unexpected circumstances and a huge lack of financial planning on our part we had to make a call will we cut back on our magical day of matrimony and go ahead with a bargain basement wedding, or will we wait another 12 months and ensure we are able to have exactly what we wanted?

As adults we have of course decided to wait another 12 months and do things the right way without all the stress, financial and otherwise. This is smart, this is wise, this is what any responsible adult would do! Still my inner two year old (who I call Princess) doesn't understand the concept of waiting. “I want to be Mrs Saunders and I want pretty clothes and pretty hair and I want people to look at me...I want to be Mrs Saunders NOW! (Or at the very latest August 13 this year...) why can't I be Mrs Saunders now...now now now NOW!!”

My inner teenager is not 'digging' the decision either, she has been planning her wedding for as long as we can remember. So after the fist beating throw yourself on the floor tantrums of Princess I get to work through an eye rolling, angst ridden lecture...”How hard could it be? just use the money. It seriously can't be that hard to find a florist on short notice, who cares (insert metaphorical eye roll) that the one you thought would do it pulled out? Just ring a florist they will know what you want god it isn't hard, bet I could do it...oh and I know you are saving for a wedding but get me those shoes I want...NOW!”

Unfortunately adult Sarah has not been as vocal as either of these younger inner egos lately, so poor Mr Saunders has had to put up with a lot of sulking and petulance. I knew I had hit the low point when I started conceiving a plan to go to the Mount Isa council office and quietly get married. Never in my life did I see my wedding to my soulmate that way, and I am pretty sure Mummybear and Mum would both be heartbroken without being there for our special day.

I have now started to get my head around the concept that there will be another 14 months until saying I do and legally becoming Mrs Sarah Saunders. I had one very tear filled morning at the day job when I had to cancel my annual leave and explain why, but I swear that is all behind me now, I have put on the big girl pants and no matter how much I want it to be as planned the wedding is officially postponed. It will be better for it, less stress, more money, better planned.

I need to stay focused though, it may be all to easy to sit back and do nothing until it is too late again! That procrastination trait rears its ugly head all too easily sometimes and some things just can not be achieved adequately with stress and deadlines looming large.

I am interested to know what decisions other people have found hard to make, do you ever regret making the adult decision? Has waiting for something so important made it better when it finally happens? Is your inner child easy to keep quiet? Share your story in the comments...

How does distance make the heart grow fonder?

No seriously somebody tell me, how does this work? It has been a whole week since I have seen Mr Saunders and I can't wait till he gets home tomorrow. I won't see him till after I finish at the day job and I am sure I will be counting the hours but my heart is not “fonder”.

Call me crazy, call me pathetic but I miss Mr Saunders just as much on the last day we are separated as I do on the first. Actually we have a couple of friends in our circle that really do call us pathetic, telling us we should not be happy living in each other's pockets...but we are!

Maybe that is the secret, if you are the type of people who never get sick of each other's company then you don't need distance to make the heart grow fonder. If your best friend is your soulmate and your life feels complete just by having them beside how much fonder can your heart actually grow?

Time away from Mr Saunders doesn't make me miss him more, doesn't make me love him more, doesn't make me want him more. It just makes me sad and lonely, and honestly I get less done when he is away, somehow I am far more productive with Mr Saunders hanging around.

I have spent the better part of the week snuggled on the couch with the dog and two cats who would be most upset with me if I did not point out that they too have had a very melancholic and mopey week. Distance does not make their hearts any fonder, they miss Mr Saunders just as much now as when we are home alone at night while he is at work.

Distance has not made any of us sad, lonely, couch dwelling beings appreciate Mr Saunders more, miss him more, or love him more. He is our world, he is my soulmate, he is missed and there will be hugs galore tomorrow. I am sure my heart is not any fonder, there is no room for fonder in a heart that is already full. Mr Saunders I have, I am and I will always be loving you, but you need to come home now, I can not live another day without you!

What does everyone else think...Can distance make the heart grow fonder?

Real Mother's day with a fake daughter...

This is not what you think, I am not having a cheap shot at a daughter who does not live up to my expectations, I have an actual fake daughter. I didn't give birth to my Pookiebear, I didn't adopt her at a young age or become her foster parent. We met for the first time in November last year when I moved to Mount Isa for the day job, we hit it off immediately and somewhere along the way appointed the role of mother and daughter to our relationship.

I can only guess what it is Pookiebear gets from calling me Mama, stern and unsolicited advice, hugs on tap and the occasional family dinner cooked by myself or Mr Saunders... Myself on the other hand, gain much more then I could possibly give.

Mr Saunders and I have never been blessed with children, it seems the stork has lost our address, as the years tick on by it becomes more apparent that the pitter patter of tiny feet and midnight cries are just not something we will hear in our household. We consoled ourselves with the tick tack of doggy claws and plaintive cries of clingy cats until we were blessed with a beautiful seventeen year old daughter.

I always dreamed of becoming a mother, as a child it was what I wanted to be when I grew up, I may not have given birth, or raised my Pookiebear but I am thankful that I have someone to shower love on and smother with unrealised maternal instincts. I am grateful for the birthday card that reads “for mum”, The chocolate bar left at the day job marked “Mama bear's”, the hugs, the love and the “family” dinners.

This is the first mother's day in quite a few years I have not felt inadequate, or like I failed at being a woman, it is hard to watch the world celebrate a day dedicated to something so beautiful and natural that you will never experience for yourself. Thank you Pookiebear for making Mother's day a happy day, and for making me feel special, I can not wait to watch Practical magic with you on our next mother daughter movie day xox.

Sunday on the couch with a pot of tea and a good book...Yes please!

Just like every writer I have ever met, I love to read, and when I say love, I mean capital L.O.V.E love! I will read anything, except instructions, gods how I hate instructions, much to Mr Saunders horror. Now horror, that is one of my favourite genres, in fact horror and fantasy are my two all time best-loved genres when it comes to what I like to read, and write.

Sci-fi and crime are front runners too, a good suspense, a tear-jerking drama, all of these will make me pick a book up off a shelf and read the cover at the very least. One genre that I have ignored a lot throughout my adult life is Romance, I don't hate romance novels, I don't even dislike them, I have just never been interested enough to seek them out or pick one up off the shelf.

I use to read romance, like all teenage girls I had a stash of mills and boon and harlequin hidden behind my Sweet Valley High and Dolly romances. It really was a genre I forgot about after high school though and shame on me for doing so.

It was my helpful nature that succeeded in getting me to pick up a romance book again, my beautiful friend Ann B Harrison gave me a copy of her newest release Outback Gold in exchange for my truthful feedback. To be honest I picked it up with some reluctance, Outback Gold is not only the first of Ann B Harrison's books I have read but also the first romance book I have finished in a very long time.

What can I say about Outback gold? I loved it! I mean capital L.O.V.E...well I am sure you get the picture. From the first moment Morgan walked into the Pindon Pub and Stacey set eyes on him I was sure I knew where the story was heading. Girl meets boy, girl and boy fall in love, boy leaves, girl discovers a hidden truth about the boy causing complications and misunderstandings which keep them apart but they are reunited at the end.

Outback Gold delivered so much more however, Ann provides her readers with a sassy heroine, a hot hunk (who I am perhaps a little infatuated with...sorry Mr Saunders), sizzling sex, colourful supporting characters, plenty of drama and a twist that even I (master of spoiling whodunits) did not see coming.

I loved the story, I loved the characters and the ending had me all teary, I will definitely be reading more from this very talented author. In fact I may become a little obsessed for a while, not just with Ann B Harrison but with the love of the romance genre she has re-awoken within me.

Part of me is mourning the lost value of the romance genre in my life, a bigger part of me is already planning which romance book my pot of tea and I will be curled up with next Sunday...  

I could get everything done on time, if life would just back off!

Sometimes it feels like life is conspiring against me! I make all of these plans about what to do with my time and how to achieve my goals then in the blink of an eye everything changes. I tell myself that I will make my blog a weekly thing and make a post every Sunday. I assure myself that even though the day job is full time I will devote my time off to preparing my first WIP for publication. Then life comes along with its own ideas and seemingly urgent or unavoidable obligations.

Last week it was a family dinner that went into super dooper overtime, how do I turn my Pookiebear away when she wants to talk all night. I am still appalled that it took me until Thursday to get the blog post done...Sunday is the day, every Sunday! At least I got some editing and re-writing done, not as much as I wanted but some.

This week it is my birthday and my closest, oldest friend has driven to Mount Isa to spend the weekend with me. I will admit I kind of knew going into this week that getting anything other then work and seeing my friend would be hard, I didn't plan on losing most of Sunday to sleep and recovery.

It was meant to be a quiet night playing my favourite board game, scattergories turned into a boisterous evening with laughter and more then a few too many extra beverages. At one stage a debate about whether true carbonara is made with egg or cream turned into a tipsy kitchen adventure for Mr Saunders and one of our guests. Mr Saunders is confident his creamless carbonara won the night!

The Bestie will be leaving tomorrow and I go back to the day job for another week, I intend to have a quiet week working on the WIP in all of my down time, which will not be very much at all. The plans for dinner with a friend is already in place and I have an idea about having coffee on Sunday. I guess it is up to life to decide what exactly I will get done this week. The way I see it I’m already winning because this week is starting with my blog being posted on time. 

Can a trip to the hairdresser's really improve our story telling?

I got a fabulous haircut this week, it is short and funky, low maintenance, a brilliant colour and took close to three hours at the hairdressers! luckily I own a smart phone, I played a couple of games, read a couple of chapters of Ari Harper's awesome book, Witchling. And spent a huge chunk of time people watching.

Nothing is better for the development of characters then seeing how everyday folk interact with the world and people around them. I believe you can not write what you do not know. But not all knowledge comes from personal experience, for instance, I am not an angry person but through dealing with, and observing those of the aggravated persuasion I am familiar enough with the concept to develop a character that is motivated by choler.

It is the little nuances of personality types that help build a believable character and if we pay attention while out in the big bad real world we can easily bring those lilliputian details into the worlds we create.

We can discover the driving force behind some common personality traits and layer a more complex rational into our stories just by being attentive. Take for instance a dishevelled woman in a hair salon making demands and repeatedly changing her mind. Reiterating to the stylist the exact colour her hair must be and accusing staff of forgetting her eyebrow wax more than once.

At first glance she appears rude and prickly, but the reality is more likely to be she has not been pampered before, a trip to the hairdresser is a huge event, not just something she does once every six weeks.

For me a haircut is a minor inconvenience, a huge chunk of my day once every month and a half to ensure my grey roots aren't seen. If it wasn't for watching other people in the salon I would never stop to think about the other reasons for spending time at the hairdresser's. A day spent getting your hair done could be a cure to the boredom of being a trophy wife, treating yourself for long over due pampering, getting ready for a special night or (as it is in my case) vanity to hide the little tell tale signs of age.

The list could of course go on, these are just the things I saw this week while getting my own hair done. To bring this back to how it can affect character building, the motive for being there changes the way a person interacts with the world around them, but if known it also changes the way others treat that person. A dishevelled yet demanding woman can go from having eyes rolled behind her back to being treated like a queen, just because her stylist pays attention realises how special the next few hours are for her client.

The challenge a writer faces is not only developing characters that are driven by their various motives but introducing the reader to a complex and realistic personality, one that keeps them engaged in the story and on the edge of their seat waiting to see how each character's tale will end. Conscientiously paying attention to the world around us should be a skill we strive to develop every time we leave our house, our story telling will thank us, our characters will thank us and most importantly our readers will thank us.

Does Tomorrow ever really come?

If procrastination was an Olympic event I would be the next Ian Thorpe. It doesn't even have to be something I am dreading for the cunctation to begin. In fact finding a brand new awesome word for procrastination really just makes my point. Every time I sit down to do something productive my brain may as well be that of a ferret on crack, even the most mundane chores become shiny objects to distract and detract me from my fecundity. See I did it again!

I make all the rules I can to ensure I stay focused, no games on my laptop, ensure the television remains off, keep the current books being read and my phone In a different room. All this really achieves is instead of doing things I enjoy I end up doing things I have previously procrastinated about. Lets look at an example of the day in the life of a master procrastinator...

I set the alarm for eight am because I have a coffee date at nine, yes that is plenty enough time for me to get ready and leave the house on time but in the interest of not being cunctative lets leave that for another post another time. Now normally I have no problems getting out of bed at or even before eight am, but this morning I hit snooze, I’m not ready, I need more sleep. Nine minutes later the snooze goes off, reluctantly I get out of bed. Did I wash my hair last night? Of course not I wanted to watch a movie on TV, even though washing my hair would save time in the morning, I found something else to do. By the way, the movie was that important I can not even remember what it was.

So I wash and style my hair and for good measure decide to look for a specific shirt I have not worn since moving to Mount Isa, it just feels like a day where long sleeves won't make me feel like I am getting heatstroke. Oh no, here comes the next wave of pointlessness, this is after all Mount Isa, I had better go outside and test the heat, maybe long sleeves is not the best choice. Its ok outside, I can safely keep the shirt on. I didn't let the dog out to do her morning business, best do that before I leave the house and wait for her to finish and come back inside, our babies are very spoilt, but again in order to keep on track and avoid dilly-dallying lets leave the enthusing over pets for another time.

I'm ready, the dog is back inside, I've found my house keys and it is only twenty to nine, I'm on fire! Time to kiss Mr Saunders, without being too jealous that he is having a well deserved sleep in after working all night and get out of here. But first I'll just check Facebook and leave a status about my impending coffee date. Ok here we go, earphones in, music playing, house locked and still plenty of time to walk to the coffee shop.

I get lost on the way, and oh yes, getting lost in Mount Isa is very hard to do and quite embarrassing to admit, I'm not sure if I am really bad at directions or if it is just a self-sabotaging form of procrastination. Along the way, somewhere after getting lost and before arriving at the coffee shop I go looking for my bankcard and realise, It is still in the pocket of my uniform (yeah the day job comes with a snazzy shirt). why is it still in my pocket, well I bought some groceries on the way home yesterday and I meant to put the card back in my wallet but thought I would do it later, I was too busy to get my wallet out of my bag.

I actually think about turning around and going home for it, but after getting lost and leaving later then I wanted it would make me really late, for a master procrastinator I am actually quite hung up on being as punctual as possible. My amazing friend buys me a long black and we have a delightful catch up and I get to meet an awesome new friend as well. A couple of hours later and I head home. Having forgotten my bankcard is now a blessing, there is nothing I can do except go home.

Mr Saunders is up so I have a chat, before sitting down to edit my WIP. I'm at the lap top I may as well check Facebook and twitter, read a couple of blogs, talk to people via FB chat. OK half my day is done, it is most definitely time to start editing the WIP, first I’ll update my Facebook status, let everyone know I’m going to edit my work. Ok that's done here we go. This is of course where I notice the kitchen is a mess, wash the dishes or get to work? How can I concentrate with a kitchen like that? Ok the kitchen is clean I'm finally ready, except I really wanted to test out a new game I installed. OK the game works its time....what was I going to do today?

Gidget is the afternoon movie, I love Gidget, after the movie I am seriously going to get around to editing my WIP. Television off paper and pen in hand, one more conversation with Mr Saunders and here we go, except it is only two weeks till my birthday and there are presents already hidden in the house, maybe I can Talk Mr Saunders into giving me one early. I now have awesome noise cancelling headphones which should help me drown out the outside world and keep me from getting distracted. Of course I have to find exactly the right music to play.

Finally I get my editing done, miraculously two whole chapters which was my goal for the day, well actually they are nearly done, I decided to write my weekly blog, it is important to blog regularly, so it isn't really procrastinating right? Having decided to write my blog, and deciding to write it about my Achilles heel I feel the need to tell Mr Saunders this weeks topic, After the first couple of paragraphs I have to find him again and tell him about the awesome new words I discovered.

It's one am and I am exhausted, feels like I have been chasing my tail all day, I can't wait to get to bed, but first I have to post my latest blog and finish the two chapter goal I set on editing my WIP...actually there is always tomorrow.

I'm not Scared...I'm terrified

I've always wanted to write. As a child I made up stories to entertain cousins and siblings, a particularly memorable one was about a boy called Elvis, a boy who could captivate a room with his singing but was unfortunately so ugly his mother couldn't even hug him, that was of course until he fell on his face and became a handsome rock and roll sensation. We all got in trouble that night, lights were out we should have been sleeping not laughing and making up "rubbish". I entertained the people I loved with outrageous stories for years, it was easy and everyone loved my nonsensical ramblings.

As I grew up however I realised not everyone wanted to hear about the worlds inside my head, in fact some people criticised my stories, found holes in the plots and told me in no uncertain terms that I should not be making up "rubbish" and telling stories, I should be thinking of my future and what I wanted to be. A boy just can not go from ugly to gorgeous and become the king of rock because he fell on his face...well yes, that was kind of the point now wasn't it? 

I've lost count of how many times have I told someone I wanted to be a writer to have them tell me (many times without ever reading a single thing I have written) I'll never make it, I'm not good enough, the industry is too cut throat. Somewhere along the way I started to believe it must be true, I put the pens and paper away and went and found a "real" job, then another, then another, none of them brought a feeling of fulfillment. 

Then I thought, what if I just wrote for fun, in secret, not to be a real writer but just because it gave my imaginary friends a chance to become real?

So that's what I have been doing, until I moved to Mount Isa and met the lovely Ann B Harrison, who is not just a beautiful person but also a successful writer. Much enthusing about my writing ensued, and to my surprise Ann was interested, not politely nodding while thinking about her get away, not smiling blandly while internally wording her discouragement, she actually asked questions and listened to the answers.  Then she shared something that brought all the childhood enthusiasm about writing rushing back, if you have a good story and you work hard on the technicalities getting published is possible.

It's possible! It is a lot of hard work and I need to be dedicated to my writing, I need to market myself and learn to share my secret worlds with people again, but it is possible!

I'm not scared, I can leave behind all those years of self doubt and secretly scribbling about people and places no one else would ever see, I'm excited...I'm psyched...I'm ready...I'm terrified!