In early September 2015 I hit rock bottom. I was sober, I was nicotine free but I was miserable as hell and getting worse. The panic attacks were escalating and even a 10 minute train journey to Woy Woy was becoming too much to handle. Getting the bus home was an equally awful nightmare and if I managed to make the less than 15 minute journey without getting off the bus, it was cause for celebration. In early September my friends son turned 1. I was excited to attend his birthday and then found out there were no trains that weekend. It meant a 60 minute bus ride to Sydney, plus another shorter trip to his Grandmother’s house. I couldn’t get on the bus. The thought of it was terrifying, and sitting in my bedroom, my sanctuary, my fear of getting on a bus to Sydney trigged a panic attack that left me exhausted and with a migraine. That day was the beginning of the end of that particular chapter in my life. I realised, …
There is a great myth in my family – and I think in the families of many – that in order for something to be achieved it needs to be done at the right moment. The perfect moment just waiting to be tapped into and if, just if, you hit the right perfect moment everything will come up roses, or at least pansies, never carnations though. They’re funeral flowers.
The other day I made the comment in my blog – and during a telephone conversation – that it’s next to impossible to drown your inner demons when the bastards have learnt how to swim. It got me thinking on ways to deal with your inner problems in healthier and – in the long term – sustainable way than reaching for a shelf of wine every time the shit hits the fan.
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.
Today on Twitter a prime example of what happens when a hashtag gets hijacked occurred after Best Selling Author EL James publicity machine thought it would be a great idea for the fans to tweet her some of their questions regarding the 50 Shades series.
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.”
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.