I’m currently house sitting a massive 15 minute train commute from where I’m working. Given my usual 95 minute commute this is a massive blessing. It does of course play merry hell on my ability to people watch. But the people watching on this train line is very different to that on my normal Central Coast to Sydney run. Last week I was standing near the doors of the carriage when I overheard a perfectly natural conversation between two young women. As the weather begins to heat up – although today is proving that theory incorrect – and people across the nation begin their annual pilgrimage to the beach. Australia is a beach culture. There are hundreds of kilometres of golden sand beaches, oceans of water all around us. We are, by our very national identity viewed as bikini clad beach babes and speedo wearing life guards. On the train the conversation went as follows: Girl 1: Oh it’s gotten so hot so fast this year, and I’m not ready for the beach yet. Girl …
I’ve been busy since we last spoke. Not in a “get in there, get things done and have a wonderful holiday by the beach,” kind of way, but in a “it seems like nothing is happening, but I know it is, so suck it,” kind of way.
Life brings many adventures along the way. Credit card debt, broken hearts, misplaced wallets, keys and the never ending adventure of “if I put 6 socks in the washing machine, why do I only ever find 5 when the load is done?”
Here’s a tip for the non-writers out there. Don’t ask a writer when they will be “finished” on their novel. Also, don’t ask them when they’re going to start making money and finally be a “proper” writer.
In February this year I began a 6 month novel writing course held at the Australian Writers’ Centre. The course facilitator is Award Winning Australian novelist Pamela Freeman. When I first signed up, I entertained myself by imaging that finished novel sitting in my hands in August, the entirety of the Australian publishing industry bashing down my door to sign me up.
Over the past two weeks I’ve been battling the flu. Now, personally I’m not a believer in the often derived “Man-Flu.” It’s derogatory, and insulting. That said, this flu is by far the worst one I’ve ever had. I’ve barely been awake for the past week and a half and when I have I’ve had the energy of a newborn kitten. It’s been annoying.
Over the years I’ve attempted write countless novels. My problem has always been though that I get “bored.” Well not so much bored, as I lose track where the plot is going or can’t for the life of me figure out how to get my characters from point A to point B, so instead I claim “alack and alas tis all crap.”
Everything in my life has been going so well lately. I’ve been healthier than I have felt in a long time. Work is good. My writing is taking me to places I’d never before dreamt were a possibility. My confidence in myself has been sky high.
When I was little, one of my favourite stories was The Shoemaker’s Elves. The image of all those helpful little elves popping over to make a shoe or two as the Shoemaker slept. Industrious little critters really.
Back in mid 2013 I read an article about the discovery of an abandoned Temple complex in the far north of Scotland. The article queried how a temple had come to be located in such a desolate and unforgiving landscape. Not only that, but how based on archeological evidence a thriving town had grown to support the temple complex.