Golden Days

Sending out gallons of cyber champagne to Melanie who rocketed her way into the finals of the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart competition with not one manuscript - but two!

This isn't a little three chapter competition either - it's the whole MS. There's no hiding there. If you've got a sagging middle, a black moment that's more a pale puce colour or a few things that just don't quite gel - it's preeety unlikely you'll make it to the finals. After all, they get over 1000 entries every year.

So congratulations you clever thing, and wishing you everything good for your trip to Dallas in July :)

Breakfast Fiend Mark I

I am one of Melbourne's biggest breakfast fiends, I'm sure of it.
I've been obsessed by the whole breakfast out thing for about five years now. Every Sunday, sometimes Saturday, and even during the week if someone is crazy enough to give me the day off.

I'm ashamed to say it all started with McDonalds and a particularly tasty Sausage and Egg McMuffin, but it has progressed a LOOOOONG way from there and totally with the help and inspiration of Jamie Wodetzki of The Breakfast Blog .

This guy ROCKS at the whole breakfast thing, and TJ and I have been shamelessly following his lead when it comes to all things of breakfasty goodness.

Without him we would never have found:

Mart 130
The Green Grocer
or
Replete Providore


All places where I've spent many mornings noodling on my alphasmart while my coffee goes cold.

And we certainly would never have stumbled over Balzari, where this morning I had a pesto and egg dish made that almost made me cry with the way something so simple was made with such panache. I'm sure those herbed tomatoes were picked off a vine in the chef's backyard on his way to work, they were so tasty and fresh.

Coffee = strong and yum
service = friendly and professional
ambiance = mellow


And the mellowness was exactly what I needed after being chief mocktail maker for my lovely niece's 16th birthday party.

SisterL and I came up with our own concoctions of mocktails called The Pink Tutu, the Sunset and the Cococobana that after

• crushing the ice
  
• sugaring the rim
  
• chopping the mint
  
• blending the raspberries
  
• adding the passionfruit
  
• whizzing it all together; and
  
• placing the sweet plastic monkey on the rim
  

the kids gulped down in one swallow and held their plastic martini glasses for a refill. Ha! I needed something stronger than fruit juice by midnight, I can tell you.

There were sixty-five fifteen and sixteen year-olds running amok and dancing like there was no tomorrow. They had an absolute ball and my only regret was that adults weren't allowed to join in. I mean, come on, anyone who knows me even slightly knows I'm 100% capable of being in the thick of this:


Which is perhaps the heart of the problem and the reason for the rule. After all, fifteen year olds who spend 4 nights a week in dance class look a lot different dancing while foam is being sprayed all over them to a thirty-five year old with a jumbo sized muffin top and jeans that don't quite do up.

But I would've given it a red hot go.

So I had to content myself with adding to said muffin top by dipping a few marshmallows in this:

Which I can tell you was both extremely messy and totally yummy.

It was a fun night that left me wishing I was sixteen again :)

Which probably explains why I love writing about being sixteen! The universe certainly has a way of making sure you're in the right place, sometimes.

Peace, love and fruity sweet mocktails.

Rob

LOVING the revision

I thought I was being sarcastic with the 'loving the revision' title because it's so often a hair pulling, ARRGH kind of process.

In fact, even a week ago, I was feeling jacked off with the process, as my revision page count climbed oh-so-slowly and it was feeling like the same story with a few words changed around.

That's not my idea of a good revision.

But I've gotta say, it's all turned around (which it invariable does) and now I really am *loving the revision* of my current YA. Scenes have moved from the back of the novel to the middle, from the middle to garbage bin and new scenes have wiggled their way in. That's exciting!

It's taking shape, it's finally taking shape. And it's such a freaking relief.

I'm well over half way through, and aiming for being three-quarters by the end of this week. Or maybe even the end of today. LOL, yeah right.

But it's a process.


First, I surround myself with the pictures that make the story come alive for me like the one to your left.

Then I crank up my music compilation for this manuscript which is a mix of stuff by Pink and take it word by word, page by page and scene by scene.

Scenes have moved from the end to the start and from the middle to the end, some scenes are just GONE and new ones have taken their place.

And it's so satisfying. And the more surprises I find about the characters in the pages, the more satisfying I find it.

First draft is both fun and torture. Fun because the words flow and you write as fast as you can and don't look back, and torture because the pages you end up with seldom resemble the shiny goodness of the original idea. But in revision it can become whatever I want it to be and finally I get to try and fix the problems that got me down after I reread my first draft.

Now, if only I could come up with a way to make it a bit faster :)
Oh, that's right - BUM IN CHAIR.

I've heard it works like a charm.

Calling Thailand!

Nothing makes me ignore my bank balance faster than one of those glossy little holiday brochures with page after page using words like 'resort' 'spa' and 'located on a private peninsular'. And if there's any mention of FREE BREAKFAST I've got my cheque book out before you can say 'banana waffles'.

So when TJ and I realised we were coming up on a big anniversary - we thought 'what the heck - let's go!'. I mean really, who needs money anyway, right? Paying the rent is grossly overrated.

We're thinking Thailand, because it's beautiful, close to home, the food is freaking AMAZING and it's where we spent our first honeymoon all those years ago. That time, feeling young and adventurous, we took the train up to the Golden Triangle and did the whole jungle and hot-tail- up-the Mekong River thing. This time, ten years later, it's Southern Thailand and places like this:

AGGGH! That just looks so amazingly beautiful that I can't imagine not spending ten days of my life wondering how the heck that palm tree got all the way over there and if I could possibly rouse myself off my deck chair to swim over and check it out. It's called the Evason Six Senses Resort. What the? I thought I only had five senses! You mean if i come stay at your resort I get an extra one? How cool is that? What would the extra sense be? Psychic ability to know which deck chair will have me in the shade all day? Handy.


Then, of course, the pesky bank balance rears it's ugly head and I realise what we can afford is probably something more like this:


Where the only extra sense you get is the second coming of the dodgy PadThai you had at the hotel restaurant the night before.

Whichever way it goes, there will be swimming, eating, sleeping and a resumption of my love affair with green curry. Here's hoping I can resist having it for breakfast.

Hit Me With Your Java Stick

I'm sitting in a cafe called Degraves Espresso with my Alphasmart and a coffee.

Interpretation: everything is very right with the world.

Not that everything even approximated right about an hour ago when I got into my car only to realise I'd left the window wound down all night, so that the rain I'd thought was so romantic tinkering on the roof had now thoroughly wet the seat and my best skirt. It's always fun going to a new job looking like you've had a nasty accident.

But wet skirt or no, Degraves Espresso is a little haven of bright and cosy, with its cherry red theatre seats and cluttered benches. Outside, the light is the cool grey of winter, but stupidly it's so humid (even at 7am) that I'm wishing the quaint theater seats were made of anything but leather.

I could look out of the window of this cafe all day. The short, old street is crowded with black umbrellas and the smell of freshly baked waffles and roasting coffee. It's almost enough to make me forget that I'm one of the office workers, that shuffle past with their umbrellas and briefcases.

Crap! How the heck did I become one of them?

It appears the only question left to answer is exactly *what* kind of shuffling office worker I am to become. All the options look decidedly bland when compared to writing another scene of my latest MS. God, I promised myself I wouldn't whine about it and LOOK at me.

Anyway, later buddies. I get another jave hit in before I sit behind that desk...

Kissing Sin

It's official -- Keri Arthur rocks :)

Her latest blockbuster book Kissing Sin was released the other day and as you can read on her blog, it has rocketed itself to N0. 18 on the NYT bestsellers list (see it up there after 18th Feb).

And really, this kind of success couldn't happen to a more deserving, hardworking and all around fabbo person who's generous with her time and knowledge.

I remember once, about three weeks after I'd joined our critique group. I was thinking of giving up (!) because I I had no clue how to write, no clue how to find a clue and everyone else seemed so effortlessly talented. I know if we hadn't had this small conversation, I'd still be floundering around at some wanky writers centre pretending I wasn't devouring romance novels fast enough to deforest the Amazon.

Me: "Thanks for everything, I'm not coming back to the group. I guess it just didn't work out."

Keri: "Don't be an idiot. You're coming along and you're bringing work and I don't want to hear another word about this."
or something along those lines along with a promise to show me her first manuscript to make me feel better.

I still smile when I think about it today because it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I feel constantly blessed to be on the other end of her unique blend of encouragement and no-nonsense attitude toward the writing life.

I'll stop now, because if she happens to be reading this she'll give me a hit on the head next time she sees me. But three cheers for you, Ms Kez, and may this success be followed by many more.

What? You want me to make money? OUTRAGEOUS!

Last September with a few tears but a lot more barn dancing jubilation, I left my job of five years.

I had to leave. I was bored, burned out and run down to the point where I started actually hoping I’d get sick so I wouldn’t have to plant my butt on that dusty pink chair. There came a point where not even the lure of the secret stash of managerial TimTams couldn’t get me excited. And frankly that's unnatural and sad.

So without anything in mind except sleeping, I told hubby I was resigning and taking a four weeks break. It kind of turned into a four month break, but I swear I wasn’t eeeeeking it out. Really.

Uhuh.

Have I mentioned that I adore not having a dayjob? That every day is just filled with this awesome fun of doing exactly what I want (writing and reading and going to movies) and that I’m the happiest I think I've ever been. Like ever?

I literally wake up in the morning bubbling with excitement to make this huge list of all the fun stuff I want to do like 'write ten pages, buy herbs and plant in window boxes, make banana cake, take dog for walk' etc. Now that's my kind of to-do list!

Well it’s good - and for a person who used to stress about money I’m surprisingly happy to doodle along on the smell of an oily rag if it means I don’t have to 9to5 my life away. Die-hard shopping and eating-out habits have been changed, people - CHANGED!

So it’s been a four wonderful months, but ***sadly*** it’s drawing to a close. Back to the office for me.

WAAAAAHHHH!

Wings clipped, suit on, and tram ticket purchased. But at least money will be deposited into the oily rag bank account. That’s something to be thankful for.

So in an effort to cheer myself up, these are some things I love about going back to the day job.

• …um
• good printers
• errrr…
• interaction with exciting people who stimulate my imagination by their sheer stupidity
• …yeah, that!
• lunch time
• help me out here....
  
• chain drinking coffee
• biscuits (God give me strength to stay away from the bicci tin or at least bad navigational skills so I never find it)

ok, I’ve exhausted it.

But I find I can’t quite let go of my new found freedom. I’m contracting, which means I can build in little days of heaven here and there where I practice on that full time writer gig.

Bring on that gig and SOON.

Rob

And a big shout out to Melanie for taking a huge step in that direction by signing with a totally awesome agent :) You rock.

The Year My Magic Broke REVISION

11,250 / 49,250 (22.8%)

Devil's Delight

4,569 / 90,000 (5.1%)