To get around this I formulated the 100 page rule; to try and read up to at least page 100 (unless it is absolutely awful and I can’t get past page 2) and if I find I don’t care what happens next, or the characters leave me cold, then I give myself permission to put it down and move onto something else.

This rule has served me faithfully over many years, giving me the freedom to cast aside stories that don’t grab me, and helping me along to those that eventually do.

Until now.

I picked up ‘Love in the time of cholera’ by Gabriel Garcia Marquez last week and keenly started reading it. It has been on my ‘books to read’ list for more years than I care to mention. Being set in a different culture and written in a very different style to many modern books, I quickly found myself lost in the world of spice and sweat and noisy parrots.

Like so many books I have enjoyed in the past, page 100 came and went without my notice, and I was powering through it. But then something strange happened. I got to around page 200 and realised there really wasn’t any story. It was about, exactly as the title would suggest, love… in the time of cholera. That’s it.

Seeing another world with wonderful descriptions is all well and good, but without a story, and with a lead character who gets more selfish and perverse with each page, I found myself creating excuses not to pick it up! With less than 100 pages to go, I did not want to give up on it, but I had no desire to find out what happened next either. I was confused.

So I did something I have never done before. I forced myself to read to the end, speed reading at times and disliking it greatly by the time I got to the last page. My page 100 rule failed me badly.

Which makes me wonder, when it comes to reading maybe all rules should go out the window? If you don’t like it anymore, put it down. I think that might be my new mantra.

Naturally, as I’m sure we all do when faced by the realism of our own mortality, I thought of what I would be leaving behind. The song of a hundred unfinished stories filled my head and I realised that I really am wasting too much time. I know I have finished and published some stories, but next to the ones that are partly written, I can promise the best is yet to come!

I know last week I talked of well wasted time, but the truth is, much of my time recently has been wasted in front of the television, and much of that television was reality TV (house buying, house renovating or racing around the world). I can’t help but think these reality TV shows are just a poor substitute for doing it yourself? And if I’m honest with myself, I have collected enough material on these subjects now to satisfy me for life.

It’s time to do.

I think it will be harder than my chocolate-free months, but I want to give up all reality TV between now and New Year; documentaries, news, renovation anything, all gone. If it didn’t employ a writer of fiction to create it, I am not watching it. I know that sounds like I’m not cutting my options by much, but there are only a couple of fictional programs I like, so most of my evenings will end up being TV free.

If I want to leave behind more than a dent in the lounge then I need to start getting up off it and sitting at the desk instead. And I will also be turning off the internet, there is more reality TV on the net to trip you up than there has ever been on TV.

No more excuses, my writing starts again now!

But every now and then you get a reminder that not all frivolous actions are wasted time.

I have been lucky enough to be much closer to my family in the last 12 months after over 16 years of living out of the state (and sometimes the country). My writing has certainly suffered over the last year, but my relationship with my family is stronger than ever.

You can’t just order that up and get it delivered. It takes time. And sometimes that time feels like it is being wasted. Long chats over the dinner table and sitting watching a favourite TV show with those you love can be very rewarding, even if they leave you with no words in the novel bank. They are also moments you will cherish when you no longer have the opportunity to slip into them at will.

Remember, everything is material when you are a writer. The way I see it is that I’ve just spent a lot of time on research this year. And I’m very at peace with that.

Word count this week: zero.

I was wondering if I should release Paragon as an eBook and a van went past at exactly that moment with ‘Omega’ boldly printed on the side –one of the primary characters from Paragon. It was a sign.

So naturally when faced with another big decision I put it out to the universe that I was in need of a sign. Either I’ve been too blind to see it, or the universe thinks I’m getting a bit greedy with my sign requests.

I thought I’d make it easy for the universe, so when watching Escape to the country I gave the universe the sign list; if they say ‘bespoke kitchen’ I should go with option A, if they say ‘oh look, an Aga’ (with excess glee) then it is option B, and if they say ‘bags of character’ (which they say all the time and therefore indicated my true preference) then I was to go with option C.

They didn’t say any of it. Not even close.

Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me it is important that I not rely on signs? Let’s face it, as convincing as the first two were at the time, neither have really sent me in the right direction. Or maybe (it hurts to even type this) the universe isn’t really sending signs and I am just bumping into very peculiar coincidences?

Or maybe, just maybe, there is an option D out there that I haven’t yet considered?

Escape to the country is on again tonight, if they mention a ‘butler sink’, then I know the answer is option D.

Just wish I knew what option D was…

Anyway, today there is no hint of my malaise of mid-week, but my missed post did get me thinking. My online presence is important to me, and I really do value being a part of the community, but my offline writing is, was and always will be paramount. So I’m axing the Wednesday post in favour of Wednesday writing. The slot is nicely booked out in my calendar for the rest of the year already, so I will just change its use.

That will also allow me to do random koala and pet photo posts any time outside of standard post time, instead of waiting for Wednesday. And an update; I am still working on the cat photos for those who asked, hope to have something soon.

I’m also going to change the nature of my blog a little. I’m going to cut back on the advice –after all, what can I claim to know about writing? Perhaps when I’ve got my third novel out or my Pulitzer, then I might have something worth listening to, but until then I’m just going to share what I can claim to know well; the struggles of a writer trying to get her work out into the world.

So thank you for your support so far, and I look forward to sharing a lot more of my journey with you in the coming months!

“Don’t be afraid to take a big step if one is indicated. You can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps.”
                                                                    -         David Lloyd George

The only problem is identifying when one is indicated verses when one is just desired. And is there a difference?

Sure, there’s the long hours spent at the keyboard, writing, editing, writing, starting again and writing more. There’s the invaluable (and sometimes painful) advice they listen to from their writers group/ editor/ agent/ next door neighbour, and we shouldn’t pooh-pooh their never give up attitude in the face of insult and indifference.

But that is not it.

For the most part they are cat owners. Yes, those slinky (or chunky) fluffy muses pad the path to publication, and bring their owners with them. And now I am lucky enough to have one of my own!

My intention was to put up a photo of her here, but she is still a little timid and not terribly fond of the strange black monster with the one glassy eye that clicks when I press a button, so most of the pictures were just blue-grey blurs. Never fear, little miss is quite the artist and she has rendered a startlingly accurate likeness to the fluffy blue one, so I will share that instead.

Naturally I expect my productivity to blossom. Watch this space and we can test out my theory.

Spring

About bloody time
Was going out of my mind
Winter wasn’t kind

Time for spring phlog, provided by a walk around the beautiful Mount Lofty Botanical Gardens last weekend;

White magnolia tree

Koala in a pine tree, getting ready to drop onto unsuspecting tourists

Ever feel like you are being watched when you walk through the forest?

Little miss 6 had insisted she was grown up enough to watch the Harry Potter movies, so I struck a deal with her; after we read the first book, she could watch the first movie. She thought she had won the battle and eagerly agreed. A week later I presented her with her own copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

“There’s a lot of words in it,” she said sadly, thumbing through the pages.
“Yes, it’s a novel. It’s much longer than your school readers.”
She placed the book down on the coffee table, cover-side down. “I don’t think I really want to watch the movie anyway.”

I thought I was beaten, she showed no interest in the book, so last night I insisted that before she could watch her Saturday night movie we had to read the first chapter. Begrudgingly she agreed, if only to secure a little more adult attention for a while.

By page two she was acting out scenes to ensure she was picturing them right. She pulled the book from my hand several times and read out a paragraph or two of her own. She asked questions about magic, and owls and Muggles, wondering (with hope in her voice) if the tales were true!

It brought a lump to my throat.

The moment that you realise a book does not just have to be an educational ‘reader’ but can be a key to unlock the magic of your imagination is a magnificent moment indeed. And while little Miss 6 might not remember her captivation with this first non-school book when she grows up, I certainly will.

Thank you J.K. Rowling!

Being my new rolling shoes, and not my usual flex deep-grooved shoes, the squidge was more of a smear than putty job. I simply found an obliging piece of grass and a conveniently left over puddle and was quickly relieved of my stinky burden and back on my way.

Then my bus was late. Normally this means it fills up and I have to stand. But I put on my positive thinking hat and was grateful to find seats enough that everyone could safely navigate the ride down the hill on our bums instead of dangling like human bunting from the plastic yellow hand-holds.

The knock-on effect was I was late for work. Positive plus kicked in again, and no-one seemed to notice my late arrival, my computer further helping me by booting up in record time. I even had time to get my cup of tea before my first meeting.

Oddly enough I ended up thinking of the morning as one of good fortune, instead of being convinced that I had got out of the wrong side of the bed. It would have been so easy to focus on the stinky side of the problems, branding it a bad day, instead of seeing the fortuitous outcomes I had been offered.   

Now if only I can manifest this attitude every day, I might just save myself a tonne of chocolate.