Plans, plans, and damned plans…

So there i was, trying to get the books edited so i could release them all by Christmas at the latest while moving house. Then moving got cancelled (as i mentioned in the last blog post). Cool, i thought, rerouting of opportunity!

I would get the books out sooner! I blogged it, so of course that plan’s just gone by the wayside. It’s for a damn fine reason though – i may have found a publisher. I’m not going to name them just yet, because i want to be able to say rude things about them if they reject me.  Continue reading

Stasis or Redirection…

Well, i’ve mentioned before plans are ill-advised, which considering my spreadsheet addiction is kinda funny.  Still, spreadsheets have that snazzy built-in elasticity provided by formulae, which is handy, because yet again, my plans have changed. Continue reading

Welcome to the future!

It’s finally happened, after 6 years of serious pining, i’ve got a smartphone. Android, which is what i wanted – i’m just not an i-Person. And it was free – you can’t get better than that unless you’ve been paid to have a phone, in which case yr the kewlest kid of all.

Me, i was about to lose connectivity (my old phone was 10 yrs old and about to be obsolescent) and Telstra gave me a phone – talk about freaking surprised. I’m busy catching up with all those things everyone else has been doing for years – yes, swiping, looking at apps and trying to get my phone to understand my speaking voice. Which it does! Coming in late on tech can be great, you get something that works pretty well right out of the gate.

Continue reading


By the time you read this, i hope a title will have occurred to me. Right now, it’s like someone scooped out my brain and replaced it with blancmange (a wobbly milk dessert). Nothing as on-trend as pannacotta, not in my head.

After surgery, i took home several infections. So my brain-deadery (it’s a word, at least MY mind says so) can be blamed on 8+ weeks of antibiotics and other pills, illness, and sodding convalescence. According to the surgeons (who i haven’t seen since 24 hours after my op 8 weeks ago) convalescence might take 3-4 months. Or more.

I’m sleeping ridiculous amounts of time round the clock – assuming one sleeps 8 hours a night, that leaves 16 hours to fit the rest of your life in – i am trying to fit a normal waking life into about 5 hours, during which time i have breakfast before going to  the doctor, the shops, whatever else needs doing.

I crawl home, fall back to sleep for 3 hours, up for the evening, (when i sort a meal, crash in front of the tv, unable to even focus on a book, let alone editing or the quickwittery of Twitter – yes, that’s a word too, i swear), then to bed for 10-12 hours and the cycle starts again. I don’t know if it’s worse because of my Chronic Fatigue, or normal, but it sucks.

Trying to edit Book 3, I’ve been hampered slightly by the brain-deadery, unable to remember either of the other two books with any kind of clarity. Hell, I can’t remember the previous page. Yeah, this is part of getting better, but it’s driving me nuts. Then Mr Whatsit got a stomach bug and so did i. Two weeks later, we think we’re finally safe more than a quick dash away from a loo.

Did i mention i was supposed to move house before this happened? My house is chaotic (but organised, i have lists!), and full of packed stuff, packing boxes and material for packing, because the lease ended and we were getting ready to move. So moving is next. I can’t do it yet (i still can’t lift much or drive – well, i can try, but pain is a good reminder of my limits), but depending on how nice the landlord is as the year goes on, i may find i just have to start packing.

This week’s been fun. I put my back out, (no idea how) and it’s been heatpacks, liniment, and back on the walking stick indoors. Trying to move at all is almost impossible. (So it’s past lucky that i’m finally over the stomach bug.) I’ve finally finished the antibiotics, and fingers crossed, no more.

Despite the back, I’ve been able to do a bit of exercise on my little X-trainer, down from the 4 kilometres i was doing before the op to 400m at a time (from 2 1/2 miles at a time, to 1/4 of a mile) – which despite being really hard, it does feel so good just to be a little active again.

When i think about it, life is on the up.

copyright 2016


Note, that’s not great expectations. So i had some abdominal surgery (i’m fine, they got the cancer before the bastard developed properly, so we think i’m alright) and i thought cool, i’m alive, and it was all laparoscopic (keyhole surgery x4) so easier on my bod. They kicked me out of hospital just 24 hours after surgery, which was fine, i was high as a kite and thought yes, home! Begin the recovery! And i can finish my editing, maybe even put the books out.

Oh dear. After two weeks of enforced DO NOTHING (enforced by Mr Whatsit, who has been like a recuperation nazi, stopping me from hurting myself, i’m now at the “carefully do tiny things and watch out because you are going to hurt” stage. I can’t lift anything heavier than a kettle (lifting this laptop is beyond my strength). I can close the garage door (thank you gravity), i can’t open it (damn you gravity!). Doesn’t matter, i can’t drive yet anyway. Standing is a short term event, walking likewise.

A new high-seated stool was necessary for the kitchen, or i couldn’t have even made toast. I’ve been more concerned with keeping my bowels moving (we’d like to thank psyllium husk, senna, and an initial diet of mostly fruit) and stopping taking the most awful drug i’ve ever taken – endone, or as it’s known on the street, oxycodone. Disgusting, and nowhere near the fun it’s made out to be.

I came off it as soon as i dared, after only 4 days – i was on anti nausea drugs to stop simply throwing up 24/7. With my doctor’s knowledge, I went back onto the drug most pharmacists get hysterical over, codeine (low dose), and immediately felt better. Within a few days I even stopped hallucinating from the oxycodone.

Mr Whatsit has been a great help, and i can’t really blame him for the toe. Yeah, middle of the night, i got up, remembered Mr W saying, TAKE YOUR WALKING STICK EVERYWHERE so grabbed it (i was very wobbly on my feet, still am). I made it out of the bedroom, then managed to put my walking stick in front of me, walk into it, and break the middle toe on my right foot.

There was much loud swearing and throwing of walking sticks. Mr Whatsit came to see what was happening and didn’t laugh hardly at all, (and fielded the darn walking stick). The toe was very definitely broken, i could feel the bits grinding together.

On the bright side, i was sick enough that sitting quietly with my foot up was no privation.

Yeah, the books are delayed. Life, it’s a weird place. I suggest you don’t make plans.

copyright 2016


Phew… wait, omigod, noooo!

I just finished what should have been the final edit. Yeah, you detected the ‘should’ bit. It’s so long since i even looked at most of the trilogy i have no idea if it’s even slightly ready for publication. However, with it having been now nearly 5 years since i published the first book, i’m way over time.

What I’d really like to do is print out and run through it red-pencil. Well, if we’re talking about ‘likes’ i’d like to pay someone else to edit it but that’s not going to happen. I am my own editor and luckily, unlike most, it’s something i have done professionally and was trained to do. One’s own work can be tricky, but leave enough time between writing and savagely cutting the dribble editing, and it’s possible to get enough distance.

So, i’ve reached a compromise. I’ll read through each book, with the view simply to reduce length, (and i read over a thousand words a minute, so it won’t take as long as that sounds). Then i’ll publish. It will give me time to sort out my tax status with Smashwords and the Australian government, and to figure out wtf i’m going to do about marketing.

I’m thinking perhaps I should try semaphore, as waving flags would at least give me exercise, or perhaps morse code with a torch – which has the advantage that it could be done after hours and from a great distance in case someone takes offence.

There’s the problem with marketing, i don’t really want me to be part of it. I don’t want to write under my real name and especially, I don’t want to be a celebrity. For me, the books are what’s important. I’m not in the books, at least not completely, so why I need to get my tits out for the cause, figuratively speaking, i don’t know.

A voracious reader, I can consume an average novel in a day, and don’t care who the author is fucking. Celebritydom is inclined to put me off a person’s work, not bring me to pick the book up and read. So marketing will be much the same as before – i’ll blog, tweet, beg, give away copies in competitions. If i’m ever invited, i’ll happily meet people at a convention but until i get to publishing paper copies, i don’t think that’s something to even consider.

At least this time, i’ll know not to mark it “adult” – which made Book 1 completely invisible to everyone except porn-hunters for the first 10 weeks after publication.

Which reminds me, part of my exile from Twitter involved reading a lot. If you haven’t read these people already, do. I haven’t named genres, simply because i think good books cross genres, and can be read by anyone, all you have to do is like a good read. Or if you love good writing. I can actually just read these people, i don’t have the omnipresent Editor Inside saying, “oh dear, look at all the typos!” and distracting me from the plot.

  • Daniel Polansky. Fabulous. Simply fabulous. Buy his books, then lose yourself in the worlds he creates. I’ve read his Low Town series, and have two from the Empty Throne series ready to read – i am looking forward to them so much.
  • John Sandford. Funny, intriguing, smart. And sexy. Not bad for books usually set in Minnesota. (A much under-rated state, i loved it when i visited, in case any Minnesotans are reading this.) Sandford’s Prey series are uniformly very good, his characters Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers are likeable multifaceted guys who feel like old friends, and showing he’s not a one-trick pony, his co-authorship (with Ctein) Saturn Run is brilliant.
  • J.D. Robb. (also writes as Norah Roberts) Her Of Death series is a fascinating dip into the not-so-distant future, with interesting characters, deft humour and sizzling sex. Oh, and bad guys and girls of all kinds. I didn’t enjoy her Norah Roberts books, (too much romance for me, it’s one genre i’m not happy to wallow in), but you might.
  • James Lee Burke. He’s always good, but i’m besotted with his Dave Robicheaux series.  Flawed heroes as intensely painted as the sometimes skin-crawling villains, in a vision of America’s Deep South so vivid and beautiful you can see the bayou and smell the barbecuing shrimp, with the leavening of inequality and corruption a bitter aftertaste on the back of your tongue.
  • Jeffrey Deaver. The best til last? This is stellar company, but Mr Deaver can stand tall here. A master storyteller, he can scare you, move you, and always, make you turn the page.

I don’t care what these people are doing in their lives, their work is what attracts me. I’m hopeful my work will stand alone too. However, i’d love the kind of PR machine they get from having a paper publication deal, don’t get me wrong. (I’m not nuts!)

copyright 2016


I can’t tell you that…

I’m going against my natural instincts. They are never to share. Blogging is so freaking alien. I was born in 1960, missed being Gen X, made it into the Baby Boomer generation by literally 8 weeks, but sometimes think i am a sekrit 1930’s gel who’s been trained to keep the real shit to myself.

When i told a friend i’d been offline (this was a few years ago) because i was depressed and didn’t feel like inflicting my real life downer on my virtual community. He was SHOCKED. He’s decades younger than me, and told me straight up, i should have said something online. I loved him for his concern but tell everyone i was depressed? Pht. Or perhaps ffft. Not sure of the spelling there, but take it as an expression of disbelief.

Every time i see that “ruok” anti-suicide campaign, where you say to someone who might be depressed, “are you ok?” and they are so grateful they don’t open their veins/OD/jump off the nearest cliff, but instead say “well actually i’m totes depressed and ready to like, pinterest my suicide plans but yr concern means i am now ready to live again!” i feel like laughing. I was relieved to see a few other pplz also saying, gawd, anyone realise really depressed pplz lie??” Yes, you can tell by my overuse of Z that i’ve been back on Twitter.

However, i can understand that for other people, opening your veins in a figurative sense on social media is a way to ease that feeling of aloneness. I wish that worked for me when i’m depressed. So if you’re like me, and people offering sympathy/feelingz makes you want to run away, smiling brightly all the time, not because you don’t appreciate their concern, but because nothing stops the fucking pain… perhaps see a psychologist (because that DID work for me). Continue reading

It’s a Brand New Day

The next line of that song is something like ‘packing my bags and getting away’ – which i’m actually not, not yet. Moving has been derailed, or perhaps deranged.

I have some health issues which need addressing before i can move, and fortunately am able to take a little time. Life’s actually just getting to the sweet stage again, which it hasn’t been for a while – yes, that is my depression you can see lifting! As Blue Mink put it later in the same song, “a bee bow bow buppa bow bow bow“. Which to me, just means a warbling noise to signify unexpected happiness. Continue reading

Facing Facts

Happy 2016. Um, yeah, another year. And another house move. Quite soon. So i can’t release Books 2 and 3, because i simply don’t have time. Along with being on hospital waiting lists, my life is taken up with househunting.

I remember when nightclubbing and fashion were my passions. Now it’s a good night’s sleep and getting through the week. I have boxes to pack, houses to view, and my new computer still isn’t quite sorted, but it’s nearly there. Mr Whatsit is facing another spinal op, so can’t be much help.

Releasing the next two books and hoping (without any promotion) they’ll do well is stupid, and after what happened with Book 1 (it was invisible for the first 10 weeks of publication) i really am trying not to be stupid about it.

However, despite feeling quite depressed, something nice is going on – i just looked at Smashwords.

Continue reading

Interesting times

Well, here i am, November, and i should have a working computer in a week or so. I’ve got a computer that works but has a dodgy mouse plate (every so often it goes rogue and hits links or marks text) which can’t be trusted online, so i’ve been using that to edit the trilogy. It’s also got a coffee-soaked hard disk, so i’m saving to memory sticks, clouds, and everywhere else i can cadge some disk space.

The editing is nearly done – i’m on Book 3, and the other two are done. I can’t believe it’s taking so long. I’m at the point of giving up writing and taking up something like illuminating manuscripts by hand, you know, something quick and totes 21st C.

Meanwhile, despite liver getting steadily better, i’ve had non-stop health probs, including so many cancer scares i’m almost blase over blood tests, MRI’s, and CAT scans. Almost. MRI’s are an exercise in Zen and the Art of Keeping On Breathing, and I still find waiting for results is terrifying. So far, so benign.

Tip for MRI machines – put in good earplugs and then their headphones over the top. Doesn’t kill the noise, but brings the constant disco thump down to ‘there’s a nightclub next door’ instead of ‘i’m lying with my head in a speaker at a Boney M concert’.

Latest was ‘you may have some kind of sinus cancer’ and a CAT scan that showed up what they thought was a brain tumour. It was, but it’s apparently not the dangerous kind. Turns out all those years abusing my body are really starting to pay off.

Anyway, weird thing about being away from Twitter this long? I’m cured. I don’t even think about it much. Which is a worry, as i am going to need to go back soon, at least to let people know my books are out.

What if i’m like a bornagain non-smoker, and can’t stop myself from criticising other people’s obsessions with baby hippos, politics, or i-Things? It’s a worry. Still, I gave up smoking and didn’t become a bornagain, so I’ll try to have faith.

One day at a time.

copyright 2015