On Words and Upwards

Happy New Year, World

2011-12-31T03:19:00.000-08:00

I just made my end-of-the-year post on facebook, and I realized, it's long enough to be a blog post (you know me, Bloggiverse, I am not a short-winded person). So, here it is.

2011, what can I say? I realized tonight that I learned an incredibly important lesson this year, and I was taught it by someone who only just turned a year old. Munchkin the First taught me that it's not the times you're down that matter, it's what you do with the times you're not. I saw him have one major set-back after another and not once did he ever look like he felt it wasn't worth it. Right after the worst seizures of his life, he woke up, rolled over, and picked up his favorite toy. He found joy in precious, wonderful, very tiny things like having his grandma read him his favorite story, diving his hands into his birthday cake, or sucking on a lollipop like it was the most delicious food ever invented.

He showed me that it's not what you have, it's what you do with it that matters. He is someone very, very special.

This year has been hard but I think I'd rather see the positives. My mother died, but I had a chance to make my peace with her first--something I didn't even know I needed. My family and I lived through something that 181 other no-less-precioius souls didn't. That makes me both eternally grateful, and incredibly sad.

I watched my home town pummeled again and again, but I also saw that it was populated with a city full of people with the same spirit Munchkin the First has. That is something really special. I left my home country, but I found a new place to be that I am learning to love very much. I left friends behind, but I've made some new, very special ones.

I had to leave my son and my dog behind which is probably the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I did get to spend M1's first year with him and be here to welcome Munchkin the Second into the world. I am a very, very lucky girl, and I hope I never think otherwise.

For every negative (and there's been many), there have been even more positives and blessings. I'm grateful for all of it. However, 2012, if you could just go a little lighter on us this year, maybe even toss in a bit of good news, we sure would appreciate it.

Happy New Year, everyone :)

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The Power of Picture Books

2011-12-28T00:22:00.000-08:00

Munchkin the First is off to hospital again today for who-knows-how-long in another bid to have him gain weight before Munchkin the Second overtakes him. So, babies and the funny things babies do are on my mind tonight. Must be time for a blog post! (Okay, way past time, I know, but hey, now I have time).

I thought I'd share a story with you about the power of picture books (although I think anyone who has ever read a story to little person knows this well enough).

I love reading stories to kids, so I started out with M1 when he was pretty young. He's always loved being read to. When he was in the NICU, his dad would read him anything he could find with words on it, including cola bottles and a particularly dry business article. M1 didn't care. He'd listen with big eyes and rapt attention.

That hasn't changed.

He and I have a favorite book. It's called "Which Witch's Wand Works?" by Poly Bernatene. It tells the story of a witch called Rattle, a witch called Ricket, and their cat called Rum. M1 and I are particular fans of Rum and M1 points to him on every page with a giggle. Plus, there's the page where Rattle's spell misfires and makes Ricket blow up like a balloon until she pops and hisses her way around the room (must be careful not to give away too much of this exciting tale! hehe). M1 LOVES it when I make the hissing sound all around his neck and now giggles and scrunches up his shoulders as soon as we reach that page. He knows what's coming :)

I have to read the story at least once per day, and I don't mind one little bit.

On Christmas night, Munchkin the Second was demanding attention in the bedroom so I played with M1 while his mother did the nappy duty, etc. He rolled around as he usually does and found his way across the room. I'll admit it, I was too lazy to get up and get him. In a last ditch attempt to convince him to come back over to the me and the toys, I held up "Which Witch's Wand Works" and said, "Hey, M1, look what I have!"

He looked over, saw the book, and his eyes lit up! He flung himself across the room in a series of rolls so quick and violent his eyeballs were spinning in his head by the time he reached me. Plus, he squealed the whole way yelling, "Up! Up! Up!" (he's just learned about that word and its power to make people pick him up off the floor).

I was so chuffed by his excitement and reaction that of course I read the book, with extra witchy voices and double the hissing, of course! When his mum emerged from the bedroom again, I waited until M1 had rolled back to investigate the door and showed her the reaction to the book. Again, squeals and frantic rolls back over to me :) Of course, I had to read it again.

Boy, it was the cutest thing I ever saw.

And that, boys and girls, is how to charm the adults in your life into reading you the same picture book over and over without any protest and with extra good witch voices and hissing :)

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, and Happy New Year!

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A Post About Quakes

2011-12-23T14:37:00.000-08:00

I'm still having a bit of a blogging hiatus due to Munchkin 1's continued difficulties (he's going back to hospital after Christmas after almost a week at home, the fix didn't stick, unfortunately), and Christmas itself. But I wanted to make a quick post about yesterday's quakes.

As you may have heard, Christchurch got hit again yesterday, right in the middle of the busiest Christmas shopping day. The retailers lost Boxing Day last year, and now this. It's not a great thing for the Christchurch economy or the rebuild. Although, I heard a partially demolished building finished demolishing itself, so I guess that's a plus for the demolition side of things.

That's not the most important thing, of course, the people are. Apparently St. John's ambulance reported 50-60 injuries this time, all minor--thank goodness. Malls had to be evacuated, etc.

I'm so grateful to report my entire family and circle of friends are all safe. My son was at work, he'd car-pooled, and my lovely brother-in-law went to collect him and take him home. My younger sister went to our house to check on Ryder, who was fine and happy to see my nephew who played ball with him for a while.

Much like June, there were two major quakes around an hour apart. First, a 5.8, then a smaller 5.3, and then about an hour later, a 6.0. These were all very shallow, and the 6.0 was centered on South Shore (near where I used to live on the beach). There was more liquefaction in the worst affected areas and basically the whole horrible mess starts over again for those on the east side of town.

Since those initial quakes, there have been the usual round of renewed aftershocks--many of them over 4, and several over 5.

I'm so sad for everyone there. The devastation may not have been as bad as in February, but I think the affect on everyone will be huge. So far the worst aftershocks have all come around six months apart, which seems to be just the right amount of time for everyone to relax and begin to trust enough to go back into malls and get on with things without so much fear. You can't underestimate how having the trust broken over and over affects people. And all the little kids who were forgetting quakes in the excitement of Christmas have had their attention firmly dragged back.

For my part, I'm discovering that being away from it all might save me the terror of the actual events, but I still spent my day anxiously trying to contact everyone and make sure they're all okay. One thing was harder, because even though I know my son is safe, I won't get the chance to hold him and be sure of that for myself. That is by far the worst part.

But, thank God I am also lucky enough to have the sort of boy whose first thought after making sure everything was safe was to send me an email saying "big shake here, I'm fine, going to try to get home to check Ryder." Luckily, he'd bought himself a new iphone for Christmas and was able to email me from it on and off all day long. That is a vast improvement on the nightmare of past quakes where I couldn't get hold of him for hours.

I am extremely lucky and grateful to have been where I was, sitting in my (extremely freaking hot) living room in Australia with Christmas shows on the TV instead of cut-in newsbreaks, with my daughter and her babies sound asleep in their room. With Munchkin 1 about to go back into hospital, I keep thinking how much worse it would be having to do that in Christchurch with all the new aftershocks right now. Believe me, I know I'm lucky.

I just wish all these simple luxuries could be true for everyone back in Christchurch. For Christmas, I think that's what I wish for them, a chance for the most average, ordinary, and boring Christmas possible--the variety that comes with as little adrenaline as possible.

Sorry for the Absense

2011-12-11T01:26:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I've been about the worst blogger ever in recent times. I apologize profusely for that.

While Munchkin 2 has been doing much better than average, Munchkin 1 has not. He suddenly started to lose a lot of weight over the course of a week, to the point he ended up weighing about what he did when we moved here--and that was underweight then. He went into hospital and while he was in the process of being admitted, he had two big seizures.

Long story short, this hospital visit has been very different to the others. At least part of his problems have been identified (malabsorption) and they've tried a new formula that seems to be working, fingers crossed. He's put on nearly 500grams (a pound) since he's been in there (6 days), which is huge. It's taken him the past six months to put on that much. So we're really pleased and relieved. He's going to be in hospital for a while yet, maybe until after Christmas, but if he keeps going this well, then hopefully not that long.

Other than that, I've been doing those other things I do, you know, writing and drawing. Both of which are going very well. I'm designing a tattoo for a client I've known for a long time now, and it's going to be spectacular (if I do say so myself). Also, ginormous. And writing has been going better than it ever has. I finished NaNo with 3 days to spare after starting it 9 days late, and by the time NaNo ended, I'd finished the entire first draft all the way to The End, which was another 15 thousand words.

So, it's been a mixed bag of madness around here. I'm really hoping for some free moments to get some blog posts written because, boy, do I have a story or two to tell. They've been building up for weeks!

News, I Has It!

2011-11-25T04:24:00.000-08:00

In fact, I have two pieces of it (news, that is).

News Item One:
I am officially 5k away from winning NaNo. I would have finished a day-and-a-half ago except the News Item Two happened, and I've been extremely busy. Will catch up in the next day or two, though!

News Item Two:
I've kept this one under my hat for a few months now (which anyone will tell you is like some sort of minor miracle for the girl who never EVER gives anyone a present they didn't already know they were getting weeks earlier). We actually only found out this bit of news ourselves about a month before we moved over here to Australia. It's part of the reason that we finally made the decision to leave.

We'd found out that my daughter, DJ, was pregnant. It was a total surprise. She was already five months along and none of us had any idea about it. We found out all of that at the first scan, and that the baby was another little boy. We were worried sick after all that had gone wrong with his brother, but that scan showed none of the early warning signs his brother had. The Munchkin had been such a difficult pregnancy with so much morning sickness and general difficulties we'd have never thought she could be pregnant and us not notice.

So, we'd only just found out about our happy little accident a few weeks before the big June quakes. We knew DJ would very soon be too pregnant to fly and we didn't know how much worse things could still get in Christchurch. Then with everything that happened with The Munchkin as well, the decision was a pretty easy one to make by then.

DJ and SnL were nervous about sharing the news with anyone and only told those who were very close to us--particularly those likely to see her and know just by looking. It's been a pretty well kept secret, which my mostly shocked facebook friends will tell you :) The pregnancy went brilliantly, no problems, nothing. He did run overdue by a week-and-a-half--which is just one other thing he did differently than his big brother! Then, on Wednesday he arrived via emergency c-section after he showed a bit of distress and DJ didn't want to take any risks.

So there you have it! The big news! He was 7lb 4oz, has a head full of long, brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a cute button nose like his mum. He looks quite a lot like his big brother, but more like his dad with his dad's beautiful Vietnamese skin coloring. He's absolutely gorgeous and has the most ridiculously cute cry. At first we thought it sounded like a squealing piglet, but now we reckon it sounds like a slow boiling whistling kettle. Very high pitched and totally panicked. He's in a perpetual state of astonishment and has the cutest little dimples in his cheeks.

Best of all, he eats like a champion, has normal sized everything, and is completely, perfectly average in every way! He fed for three hours straight for his first feed and hasn't really stopped since. He's barely lost any of his birth weight as most babies do, and eats like crazy. It's like a miracle. It really is.

Do not ever underestimate the beauty of being average.

He's been cleared of all the conditions his big brother has had, although epilepsy could still turn up later, but we don't believe it will. None of us have ever been so happy to see a poopy diaper (although I have to say I am now officially less excited than I once was. The farts still impress me, though).

The Munchkin and I got to spend more time together in the past few days than we have at any other time. We already had a very special relationship, but it grew. I feel really privileged to have the time with these boys that I get to have.

The Munchkin is a bit bewildered by all this and not entirely sure he likes being out-cried by a little tiny astonished piglet. The Munchkin had this condition that made his voice almost inaudible until he was about six months old and even now he's much much quieter than average. He has been a bit impressed by the noise coming out of his new sibling and has decided that now he will squeal like a kettle too.

Ah, the joys :)

Best of all, after only two nights in hospital, they were discharged tonight! That's what happens when you're totally normal, completely average, and super healthy! See, I told you not to underestimate average! We are very lucky, very blessed, extremely happy, and I am one proud grandma for the second time around.

Even better best of all -- I had no less than eight people tell me I looked far too young to be a grandma, and then I got chatted up by a hot 28 year-old taxi driver. Yep. Grandma's still got it.

I would absolutely love to share photos here. I really wish I could. But, due to the problems I've had in the past I can't, and I can't share his name either (which is awesome). Please, if you'd like to see photos or hear more, either friend me on facebook--just search for my name, you'll find me-- or email me at wen (dot) baragrey (at) gmail (dot) com. So long as I know or can verify who you are, I'm happy to brag!

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I am in NaNoLand

2011-11-11T05:33:00.000-08:00

Hi Bloggiverse,

I'm just popping in to say I'm not really popping in. It's NaNo time and I am NaNoing up a storm. As usual, my best-laid plans went wonky and turned everything upside-down.

I'd planned out the novel I wanted to do for NaNo, had everything set and for once, when November 1st rolled around, I was ready to go. I got started, and by day three, I had over six thousand words done and was on track.

Then, something exciting happened. I was procrastinating on the web, when I misread a word. The word I thought it was, was this clever word play. I saw it and thought, "aw man, I wish I'd thought of that! It would make a great title!" Then I read it again, realized that the word written was not the word I thought I'd read, and when I googled the word I thought it was--no one had used it for a title or for anything else much (except a song by a metal band!).

That word made such a great title, that five minutes after I'd thought of it, I'd written my one line hook, my two paragraph summary, and had a very good idea of where I wanted the whole book to go. In less than an hour, I'd managed to get as much info on this story as I had on the one I'd already planned.

I still love the original story I wanted to do, but this new one is the one I'm fascinated by. So, I zeroed my NaNo word count and then spent the next several days trying to work out all the details I needed for my story--characters, plot details, research, etc.

By the time I was ready to go, it was already day nine of NaNo.

But, I got started anyway. Now I'm almost 10k words in already and boy, I think this might be the best idea I've ever had. I am loving this story, so, so much.

This is why I love NaNo. Something about the pressure of it all brings out something fabulous in my writing every time. It's my third year, and who knows, maybe it will be third year lucky!

Anyway, I will probably continue to be a bit absent for most of November, but I do have exciting news to share in the next week or so and some awesome stories to tell. We've had an interesting few weeks :) So, I'll try and pop in when I can!

Meanwhile, Bloggiverse and fellow NaNoers, see you all soon!

Water for Elephants for Free!

2011-11-04T00:17:00.000-07:00

Guys, I just wanted to let you know. Water for Elephants is currently free for members on Audible.com, here is the link. This was one of my favorite reads this year and the audiobook is fantastic. I just got my copy (read it originally from the library). Go, go, go! I have no idea how long it'll be there.

In Defense of Land and Sea Travel

2011-10-26T22:57:00.000-07:00

I'm back from NZ and mostly rested! It was an awesome week, and I had a wonderful time. The only thing I'd rather never repeat was the flight home.

I loved to fly when I was little and did quite a bit of it. At the time it was cheaper to take a Friendship (DC10, I think they were?) down to Dunedin from Christchurch than it was to drive, so my mum took my little sister and me with her to visit my auntie by plane quite often.

It was great. The ladies in the funny uniforms with the extremely neat hair would come around and offer you free hard lollies to suck to keep your ears from popping. Free lollies? Really, my standards for happiness as a six-year-old were pretty low. But still, it was great. I remember searching for God in the clouds and generally doing all those cliche things that kids on their first flights do.

Turns out that I'm even easier to impress these days. All I require for a flight to be considered fantastic is not to die. By those standards, both of my flights were amazing. Nonetheless, I'm not sure I'll ever do it again. From now on, it's cruise ships for me! You see, if a ship breaks down, I am an excellent swimmer. If a plane breaks down, I cannot--sadly--fly. My flight home made that pretty clear.

It started out great. Not a lot of turbulence at all until we got closer to Australia and even then it wasn't bad. The pilot told us that there was a bit of fog at Tullamarine but that it was almost gone and was unlikely to slow us down. The turbulence we had was due to a tail wind and so we got to Melbourne really early. I'm not sure by how much, but it was a lot, over forty minutes if my phone was correct before I turned it off.

That's when things started to go a bit pear-shaped.

We did the usual thing where you go lower and lower and your ears pop and you clear the clouds and there's the ground and--ooh--a runway and then suddenly the plane started to climb again. Really hard with engines straining the way they do in movies when the pilot is trying to avoid a mountain he had somehow not realized was right in front of him.

I'm pretty sure there weren't any mountains so I had no idea why we pulled back up over the clouds with ear-popping swiftness.

We banked sharply several times, went up and down some more. It seemed like we were coming in for another landing but didn't get down as far this time and went back up again. By now we'd been circling Melbourne for what felt like about twenty minutes, but since I'd obediently put away all my electronic devices, I have no idea for sure.

The pilot came on the intercom to tell us that there had been some "technical difficulties" they'd had to deal with and that now Melbourne wanted us to land on the South runway (the longer of the two runways at Tullamarine).

Aside from yelling the words "Brace! Brace! Brace!" there aren't many things a pilot can say that I like much less than "technical difficulties." Still, he assured us that we were still well ahead of time and should be on the ground in five minutes.

We were most definitely not on the ground in five minutes. More banking, so steep I could see the ground right below the wing on my side. More going up and down, looking like we'd land, and then not doing it. I won't even try to pretend that I was taking this well (I had my hands clasped in front of me and I was praying for all I was worth, and in my opinion, I'm worth quite a lot), but I wasn't taking it as badly as some on the plane--which makes me feel braver, at least. I'm not the worst flier, just maybe the fourth worst or so.

Finally we came in for an approach that looked like it'd stick. The ground was coming up fast and bam, we hit it with a heck of a thump. It was by far the roughest landing I've felt in 8 international flights and heaps of domestic ones. It took my breath away, but that wasn't the scariest thing.

You know how when your plane lands, there's all that roaring and noise as it brakes and then you come to a stop fast enough that the g-forces pull at you a bit and there's usually a whole lot of runway left at the end of it? Not so much this time. The whole plane shuddered and rattled so hard, people let out cries that matched what I was feeling but was too terrified to express. I caught glimpses of emergency vehicles outside. The tires screeched underneath my seat. The vibration was terrible and worse still, the plane did not seem to be slowing down.

In the end, it took the whole runway to stop. From what I could see, there wasn't anything left ahead of us. It was the sort of stop where you could just feel it was a fight to stop the plane.

There were cheers and whoops, but none of the crew said what had happened, and to be honest, I didn't want to ask. I'd prefer to think that maybe there was too much fog still around (although I have to say I didn't see it. The airport looked pretty clear from the sky), or that the pilots were trying some different (if not very pleasant) method of landing or something. Whatever it was, it didn't feel like a normal landing and it scared the dickens out of everyone on board. No one else asked what happened either. If they were like me, they were just so damn pleased to be getting off that plane that they didn't care about how we'd stopped, just that we had.

There wasn't anything on the news about it, so I guess it wasn't as big of a deal as it felt. All I know is that I've had dreams about dying in a plane crash since I was old enough to know such a thing is possible, and I kept thinking to myself as we landed that I was about to experience it for real. Ironically, we still arrived five minutes ahead of schedule.

Yep. Totally taking boats from now on.

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Goals and So On

2011-10-14T21:45:00.000-07:00

It's a very nice thing to achieve something you set out to do, and I managed to do that yesterday. I finished The Bonesetter's Daughter by Amy Tan. It wasn't that particular book that was the thing I set out to do, though. I wanted to read at least 100 books by the end of this year (I've never actually counted how many I read in a year before, so I had no idea if I'd make it or not), and with that book, I've done it already!

What a great book to hit that milestone with. I've had a few Amy Tan books in my collection and just never given myself a chance to really get into them. They're a little slow to get going and I'm more of an instant gratification kind of girl. This year I've deliberately read more literary fiction, and I'm so glad I did. I'm especially pleased I finally pushed myself into continuing with Amy Tan. I loved this book. I'm going to go back and keep trying with her other books now that I know what I've been missing.

Anyway, that's one goal for the year completed! That, and going on a plane--which it looks like I'll be doing another two times this year. Still don't have the agent or the book deal, but, hey, you can't win 'em all! (Plus, there's still some 2011 left, you never know!)

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Home, Sweet Home

2011-10-10T18:06:00.000-07:00

This time next week I will be almost home in New Zealand for six days. Yay! I am so excited to see my son and my dog.

Ryder's greetings for anyone he knows are legendary. I can't wait to see what he does when he sees me. In fact, I can't wait to see what I'll do when I see him. I imagine it'll involve a lot of tears and hair and cuddles! I fully intend to spend most of the week with boy and dog no further than arm's length away.

This is all thanks to my wonderful sister who is flying me over for her 25th wedding anniversary, which is, in my opinion, a pretty incredible milestone! I was her bridesmaid, so she says it wouldn't be right for me not to be there, which is why big sisters are about the coolest things anyone can ever have.

Except for DJ, SnL, the Munchkin, and my new niece-in-law, it'll be a real family reunion! I wish everyone could be there, but I'm awfully pleased that I can be.

So, yay!

I had meant to post something funny today but a) nothing funny has happened, yet, and b) I can't stop thinking about going home. However, I'm also starting to think about having to fly in an actual airplane again and that is dampening things considerably. It is not my favorite thing to do. In fact, I'd sooner meet a huntsman spider than fly on a plane again -- that's how much I want to see my family. Also, if I am facing flying again (only a matter of months since the last time, in fact), I think that should earn me an exemption from scary spider encounters for at least a year.

That's fair enough, right?

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A Belated Father's Day -- Kinda

2011-10-04T17:54:00.000-07:00

The Munchkin doesn't say "Dad" a lot. He can say it, but much like the baby from Dinosaurs he takes a wider view on parents. You're either Mum, or Also Mum (I'm Gna, but that's cos I'm super special and not a parent).

This doesn't mean his dad isn't popular. Far from it. The Munchkin recognizes the sound of the car when it pulls up the driveway and goes mad with excitement. They have a host of special games that only Also Mum would be mad enough to play. Nothing brings a look of disappointment onto The Munchkin's face faster than his dad walking past him.

Much like Mr. Sinclair on Dinosaurs, SnL was a bit insulted by not getting his own name. But after our night out at a buffet restaurant on Saturday (all you can eat, FTW!) we all realized that being Also Mum doesn't make him an also ran.

While we were there, The Munckin kept pointing at his dad and saying "Mum! Mum! Muuuuuum!"

SnL muttered something about being, "Dad," but mostly was stoic about it. Then, before heading up to get his fifth helping of dinner (SnL's appetite is legendary in these parts), he put The Munchkin on his shoulders and took him too.

Even from our table, DJ and I could see the huge beaming grin on The Munchkin's face. He waved at everyone, sat up tall with his fingers tangled in his dad's hair.

His expression so clearly said, "Hi! I'm The Munchkin and this is MY dad! Isn't he the coolest, best dad you ever saw? He's probably a *policeman or something!"

For once, when he saw other kids he didn't reach out to them, wanting to play. Instead, he wore an expression that said, "Bet you guys wish you were up here and that your dad was this cool!"

DJ and I watched as The Munchkin and SnL made their parade around the restaurant -- Dad getting fifth dinner, baby sitting up all proud and tall without Dad even realizing the effect he had.

I got all misty-eyed contemplating how even though we might all forget to celebrate it from time to time, the dad's of this world are their kids' heroes. I couldn't wait to tell SnL about his son's face as he rode on his shoulders. I wanted to tell him that he got to be Also Mum because he's just as special as Mum, not less.

Then, DJ said, "You'd think HE was the one who gets up every night to feed him."

Even heroes aren't universally appreciated.

*When I was a kid, I told everyone my dad was a police officer. I figured anyone that bossy had to have a badge.

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Safety in Numbers (unless you need your dignity in order to feel safe)

2011-10-02T16:09:00.001-07:00

I don't think it's going to come as much of a surprise to anyone when I say, I'm a bit of a coward. Okay, I'm a lot of coward. Alright, you win, I'm the biggest yellow-belly sooky pants since... ever.

You all know I'm scared witless about my potential first meeting with an Australian spider of the bitey kind (which hasn't happened yet, although I did get terrorized by a pretty mean set of ants yesterday that appeared in my bed! It's too fresh, though. Not ready to talk about that trauma just yet).

It turns out my first real Aussie freak-out had nothing to do with insects of any kind.

I've always boasted that I love storms, heck, my parents used to have to drag me out of electrical storms when I was a kid because I wanted a close look at the lightning. (Yes, I know, it's a miracle I made it this far).

What I did not realize is that Kiwi thunder and lightning is not even of the same species as Australian thunder and lightning.

Like everything about this big, beautiful land, electrical storms are bigger and more spectacular than any I ever saw in NZ--including in Ranfurly which had the most spectacular storms I'd ever seen before.

The other morning I saw a weather bulletin on TV that told us to expect thunder and lightning later in the day.

"DJ! We're getting thunder and lightning!" I couldn't wait.

"Big woop," DJ said. She was only hiding her excitement because she didn't want to encourage me, obviously.

Nothing on this planet makes a girl feel the superiority of humanity like snuggling inside in the warm while mother nature throws lightning bolts around. I got ready for the onslaught by dressing in my grownup's onesie, opening the blinds all the way on my window so I'd have a great view of the flashes, and sorting out some books to read while everything else had to be unplugged in case of power surges.

I bounced in my bed when the first flash came. This was going to be Kick-Ass.

Then the thunder hit.

My windows rattled, the ceiling hummed, the light fitting buzzed and I...

...well I got out of bed and ran to DJ and SnL's room. "Can I stay in here with you guys?"

Yeah. Embarrassing.

In all fairness to myself, even DJ the Dauntless jumped a couple of times. I mean, that lightning had FORKS in it! Kiwi lightning does not have forks. Okay, one time I saw forked lightning, but it was a long way away and it didn't look like this forked lightning. The thunder, though. Holy moly! It came from all directions, one peel after another followed by spectacular flashes and the lights going dim.

It was about then that I discovered I also get electrical storm migraines. Ah, bless.

I spent about an hour in the the kids' room, being taken care of and totally out-braved by my daughter, her partner, and their 10-month-old son. At the time, dignity was not my first priority. Eventually the thunder sounded a good safe distance away and I wanted to salvage some of my storm-cred by watching the last of the flashes in my room.

"Bah, it wasn't that bad. I'm going to bed. Night!" I said.

"Uh huh," said DJ.

Let the record show that I am an idiot.

I got out of the door and peeked in the kitchen to see if there were any Tim Tams left (a fine chocolate cookie native to Australia). About then, the biggest peel of thunder of the whole night hit. The floor vibrated, the walls shook, the windows rattled and the power went out.

I couldn't breathe well enough to scream.

I burst back into the kids' bedroom, slamming the door behind me, and they burst into peels of laughter even louder than the thunder had been.

"Two! Hahaha, Two!" DJ cried.

"Huh? What?" I panted.

In between snorts she managed to answer, "When the thunder hit I started counting down from five to see how long you'd take to get here!"

Wiping his eyes, SnL finished with: "She only got to two!"

Brats.

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Like a Tumbleweed

2011-10-01T05:44:00.000-07:00

I mentioned yesterday that the Munchkin has worked out how to roll from one place to another, also, how he's hampered by his own need to applaud his successes along the way.

There is one instance where there simply is no time for self congratulating--when there is a mummy to keep up with.

The Munchkin is rather attached to his mum. In fact, he was quite happy to just use rolling for some gentle exploring until he realized he could use it as a means to keep Mum from getting out of his sight. It doesn't work so great when she leaves in the car-- no amount of rolling will keep up with Melbourne's inner-city speed limit. While she's in the house, though, escape is futile.

He's gotten rolling down to a fine art. It now takes him about 30 seconds to get from one side of the living room to the other, if he's in Mum-pursuit.

We discovered this, as with most things, by accident. His mum had to go to the bathroom. "Watch the Munchkin," she said.

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich. Through the big double doors, I had a pretty good view of the living room. I figured I was safe.

Luckily, I looked up from my sandwich when I heard the strange, mischievous giggling sounds from the living room. What I saw was the Munchkin rolling at what can only be described as Warp Speed right past the double doors--giggling and muttering "Mum, mum, mum!"

It isn't far between the living room and kitchen, but he'd already crossed the living room and would have made it all the way to the bathroom had he not been confounded by a corner. After another day or two's practice, corners no longer slow him down either.

When he realized I'd caught him, he looked up, sighed and flopped.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"Mum," he said. Which did pretty much cover it.

He wasn't done yet, though. I mean, for this kid to have survived all he has, there has to be a will of iron in there and he is certainly making that obvious lately.

As I bent to pick him up, he let out a final war cry of, "Mum!" and spun off like a horizontal Tasmanian Devil (The Warner Bros. cartoon variety). He rolled off fast enough that it was pretty darn hard to catch him. If not for the bathroom door, I'm not sure where he'd have ended up.

My favorite image, though, is the one of the top of his head and flailing arms and legs as he tumble-weeded it across the double doorways calling for "Mum."

I can't help thinking we're going to struggle to keep up with this one.

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Self Congratulation

2011-09-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

We have applauded every achievement in the Munchkin's little life--big and small. He knows what a clap is for and has always delighted in receiving them. Now--after much practice--he has figured out how to clap properly and turns out, it's not working out so great for him.

Once you can clap you're pretty much duty-bound to applaud every success. At least that's the way he sees it. Especially if no one else is bothering to clap first.

In the past week or so, we've all been applauded for picking up his toys, changing his nappy, putting up his next feed, tucking him in, kissing him and, oddly, sneezing.

Yesterday I looked after him while his mum went to collect his dad from work. I was a bit wrapped up in whatever I was doing and letting him play on the floor. Then I noticed what he was up to.

He's only just learned to roll all the way over and keep rolling in one direction in order to get to where he wants to be. This time, he was after the rubbish bin with its delightfully crinkly plastic liner. His eyes were on the prize and he was on his way.

What slowed him down, however, was having to stop after every completed roll to applaud his own efforts.

Roll....clap clap clap... roll... clap clap clap... roll.

By the end, he was looking pretty frustrated with the added responsibility of self-congratulation.

He was even more frustrated when he finally reached the rubbish bin and I carried him all the way back to the beginning again. But, like the good sport he is, he still gave me a round of applause for successfully foiling his plans.

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Four Senses Instead of Five Isn't So Bad (In my case)

2011-09-27T05:21:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: Before you all read this and think that I am the mother-in-law from hell, let me assure you that I had SnL's permission to tell this story. In fact, he seemed rather excited to read what I might make of tonight's events. So I'm nowhere near as cruel as this is going to seem :D

I am a very lucky person, sometimes, in that I have no sense of smell. It's annoying when writing stories where I have to remember to describe scents and actually have some idea how. But when it comes to having infants and SnLs in the house, it's a blessing.

In his defense, SnL has a job which requires him to spend most of the day on his feet. What this does to his feet is not only cruel to them, but cruel to everyone else in the immediate vicinity. He's always argued that really, they're not that bad and everyone in the house with a nose is exaggerating. Until tonight. Tonight was the kicker.

SnL worked a 12-hour shift today. That's a lot of hours to be standing up and brewing lord knows what in your shoes. A few minutes after he arrived home, DJ started rolling around on the floor with her t-shirt clamped to her nose, gagging and screaming for someone to open the door.

Inexplicably proud of this reaction, SnL started to laugh.

Then the Munchkin's little face crumpled and he started to sob and swipe at his face in desperation. Apparently being really little, having a feeding tube up his nose, and at living at floor level does nothing to help him.

Still, SnL laughed.

I can't say I smelled anything because I never have ever smelled anything, but about the time I realized that it was SnL causing the reaction and not the cat, I also realized I was having trouble breathing. Something.... thick... was in the air. So thick that I couldn't seem to inhale.

"Oh, good grief!" I cried and stumbled for the door. My eyes were actually watering. DJ was only partially conscious and the poor little Munchkin was sobbing like his heart would break.

"Come on!" SnL said. "It can not be that bad. Stop being so dramatic."

Then, he walked toward us from the bathroom. The cat took one sniff, her eyes went wide and she raised her back. When he kept coming, she took off. He went after her, because Preshy has always loved him, but not tonight. In a very clear panic, as if on the run from the devil, Precious tore around the house even worse than when she has a case of crackercat.

SnL's face fell.

The shower started running.

"Are you washing your feet?" DJ called.

"Yeah. The cat doesn't exaggerate."

Yes. It is fair to say that it's times like this when I am immensely grateful for my anosmia. Long may it last.

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Ninja Babies and Shuffleducks

2011-09-23T16:57:00.000-07:00

The Munchkin has a set of new black baby onesies. They were supposed to make the inevitable stains of babyhood less visible, but they've had a curious side effect--an effect his Dad (SnL) describes as adding +2 to development. But I think it's because it makes him a ninja.

Yesterday, in the ninja-onesie, he learned how to roll all the way over and deal with that pesky hand that keeps getting stuck underneath him. So now he can keep rolling or roll back if he wants to. He also learned how to eat a cookie called *Baby Mum Mums when he has been completely against the idea of putting anything but his fingers in his mouth since he's had the feeding tube in. Then, for an encore, he started clapping properly. Now he's rolling and nomming and clapping like a ninja-baby-boss.

Today, wearing another ninja-onesie, he figured out how to clap **Shuffleduck's flippers and wave--all done with a look of appropriate solemnity on his face. Next, we're working on blowing kisses.

If we keep him in the ninja onesies, he should be all caught up on his milestones in another week.

I wonder if you can get ninja-onesies for adults? They're probably just pajamas or something. I wonder what sort of outfit would add +2 to writing? Probably also pajamas, going from personal experience. Black pajamas it is!

* I think they're an Australian invention, I never saw them in NZ. They're small surfboard shaped rice cookies that melt in your mouth if you're a baby and suck on them. If you're me, you munch them up way too fast for them to melt in your mouth. Those things are yum! Not that I'm stealing the Munkin's Baby Mum Mums or anything. As. If.

**A strange little stuffed toy duck with plastic flippers for feet, and oddly, tail. When the Munchkin shakes him, it looks like he's dancing the shuffle, hence, the name Shuffleduck. Mostly, the Munchkin just likes chewing the flippers.

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R.I.P Georgie the Snail.

2011-09-21T05:38:00.000-07:00

I am sad to report, Bloggiverse, that Georgie the Snail Mail Eating Snail has left us in what can only be described as a tragic incident.

We sent SnL to go check the mail... in the dark.

He came back inside with a fist full of partially shredded envelopes and a very guilty look on his face.

"No one was that attached to the snail in the letterbox, were they? I mean it was just a--"

DJ and I scrambled to our feet. "No! Georgie! What did you do?"

While backing toward the door, SnL said, "Well, it's dark out there and I grabbed a handful of mail and there was something ginormous and round sitting on it and I went--" insert manic dance with waving arms and panicked expression, "--and sort of accidentally flicked the mail really hard and the snail went flying off it and..."

He hung his head.

Poor Georgie.

At least he had his favorite dinner for his last meal.

Teamwork

2011-09-15T20:37:00.000-07:00

I was babysitting the Munchkin last night, all snuggled up in bed beside him while he went to sleep. He had his dummy in his mouth but really wanted to suck his thumb as well. He puzzled over this for a while, then stuck his chubby little thumb into my mouth. I guess that's one way of handling the problem--delegation. :)

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Pranks, or Not

2011-09-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

This series on youtube may well be the funniest thing I have ever seen :) Number 3 is my favorite (But....if you buy seven completos, it's only seven dollars!). They all absolutely rock. Trust me on this, watch it and you will be hooked.

As most of you know, I live with my daughter (DJ), my son-in-law (SnL) and my little grandson. I'm gonna call him LB for little boy, original, huh?

I've been trying to prank SnL for some time now. I am a useless, but enthusiastic, pranker. I'm even worse when it comes to him. It's like he has this good luck force field around him that turns my efforts to custard every time.

Take yesterday for example:

The morning routine here is for SnL to get up a couple of hours before work and look after LB so that DJ can sleep in. First, I hear the gas heater switch on (you can't miss it, the thing clunks like you wouldn't believe), then a tinny musical version of Clementine starts to play, then there are giggles, games and usually a book reading or two. For some reason, SnL always does his book reading in a Terminator voice. It adds a whole new dimension to Puff the Magic Dragon.

So, yesterday morning, I hear SnL say "I'll be back" and the toilet door closes. I saw an opportunity (I really wish I wouldn't do that).

I creep out of my room, find LB on his playmat and hold my finger to my lips.

His wee arms go out and he yells, "Gnaa! Gnaaa!" (That's me. It's too cute.)

"Shhh!" I tell him as I bend and scoop him up into my arms. We tip toe back into my room, ease the door closed and stand there in the dark giggling. Okay, I was giggling, LB was more like, "eek, it's dark in here Gnaa!" Or he would be, if he could say more than five words.

So, I'm giggling as quietly as I can, waiting for SnL to get back into the living room and discover his beloved son has disappeared. I hear the bathroom door and have to bury my face in LB's chest to smother my giggles and general delight at my own genius (you can probably see why my pranks are rarely successful).

The footsteps make it to the living roof, there is a bump as SnL sits down beside the fire, and then... nothing.

Does the man not care about his child?

"What do we do now?" I whisper to LB.

He looks confused for a second and then has an idea.

He throws up all down the front of me, missing himself entirely.

"Not what I had in mind," I say.

NOW he laughs.

It doesn't entirely dampen my enthusiasm for my prank, just my pajamas. So we burst out into the living room and find his father stretched out in front of the fire looking really comfortable and not in the slightest bit worried.

"Surprise!" I yell.

He looks over at us. "Oh, you're back."

"But... but... weren't you worried about your son?"

"Not after I heard him yell 'Gna!" and then hear you snickering away in your bedroom, no."

Damn these paper thin walls!

Still, it's not as bad as the time I called out to him from the kitchen that since we live in the same house, it's inevitable that one of these days one of us is going to accidentally catch the other one naked somewhere and to avoid embarrassment we should probably just get it over with.

The point was to horrify him, have him blush and stutter and then me laugh, Ha Ha! and tell him I was only joking.

Imagine my surprise when he calls out in his most enthusiastic voice, "Okay! On my way!" and runs into the kitchen where I am standing, dish towel clamped to my face.

Well played, SnL, well played.

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A Bit of a Change

2011-09-08T10:47:00.000-07:00

As those of you who read this blog know, I've posted quite a lot about my family members in the past. Originally, when I started this blog, I gave everyone aliases out of respect for their privacy. As you also most likely know if you're reading this, the youngest family member ended up in a life threatening situation (or thirty) and I wanted to ask for prayers and support and so I began using his, and his parents names.

Unfortunately, it's come to my attention that someone has been downloading the photos I've posted of this little person. The someone in question is known to me and has been a problem in my life before, so I have made the decision to remove all posts including photographs and mentions of anyone in my family besides myself and the pets. Some lines I will not stand to have crossed.

I realize it's a bit late now, closing the barn door after the horse has bolted, etc. etc., but I guess you can only fix your mistakes once you know you've made them.

So, sadly, I will have to go back to aliases and no photos, I'm sorry.

However, if you would still like to read my updates, see the photos etc., please friend me on my facebook (personal page, not my artwork page) and leave a small note to let me know who you are if I am not likely to recognize you from past comments, etc. I will still be mentioning my family in my stories and giving updates on the condition of the littlest family member, I just won't be using names or posting photos.

I apologize for both the drama and the massive gaps that now exist in the blog, but going through and editing every post was turning into a nightmare, so I've had to be a bit brutal about it. I'm sure you all understand! (all but one notable exception, I'm sure)

Now, back to your regularly scheduled Wen-foolery.

Excerpty Goodness--it's been a while.

2011-09-07T22:24:00.000-07:00

Today, I thought I'd do something I haven't done for a while on this blog: post an excerpt!

This is a new scene I worked on last night, so it's fresh as can be and largely unedited. I like weird little bits of dialogue like this, so I just had to include it. I hope you like it! Violet is giving Ruby a ride to a party she's bursting to attend:

I peer through the windscreen, wipers on full, lights dimmed so the glare doesn’t blind me altogether.

Ruby groans. “Come on, Grandma. You can go faster than this.”

“I can—not, thank you very much. One scratch and it’s all over for me.”

“And you have so much to live for.” She’s rolling her eyes. I can’t see her, but it’s like I can hear them rattling in her sockets.

“Shut up, Ruby, or I will pull this car over.”

She cracks up at that, and after a second, so do I. It’s even funnier than when Mom says it.

“Come on, Vi. Come too, please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty—”

I smack the indicator down and pull the car over to the side. “Okay. Out.”

Ruby stares at me with eyes so wide they glow in the dark. “You’ve got to be kidding. You are kidding. Right?”

“I do not kid.”

Her mouth does that same dying fish impression her boyfriend did earlier. “I’ll shut up.”

“No, you won’t. You never shut up.” I keep my face dead serious, because I think I may have finally made my point.

“This time I will. Honest.” She nods to accentuate her point. “Please? I’m late.”

I strum my fingers on the steering wheel, take a deep breath, and slowly put the car back into gear. To her credit, Ruby manages not to do her usual squeal of excitement and sits back in her seat with a deep sigh.

“Thank God,” she mutters.

Plans and Other Things That Don't Turn Out The Way I Anticipated

2011-08-31T11:20:00.000-07:00

Lately, my brain has behaved like a bee trapped inside a jar. That is to say, things are quite hectic inside my skull right now. Even more than usual.

I have well thought out plans, ie: work on some example pieces of art to get a bit of a current portfolio together for commissions and other important whatnottery, and to work on some very well planned rewrites.

What has actually happened resembles something a bit like this:

And also, this:

Worked on a careful outline for rewrites.
Did the initial sketches for some new drawings, transferred those to jolly good paper.
Began rewrites.
Began drawing.
Wrote two pages and discovered I used the entirely wrong voice. This was not a serious voice. It was a romantic comedy voice. No! Not acceptable. Start again.
Hang on. This was not a realistic, detailed graphite drawing of an elephant ear, this was an abstract done in the colors of the ocean inspired by the shape of an elephant's ear (and, for some reason, butterflies)... and a bit of pink, which I can't explain except to say that I never get to use pink in animal paintings. I really like pink.
Erm, that is not the plot I figured out.
Abstract now? I didn't think we did abstract, Wen? (I am currently a "we". Trust me, it makes sense from here)
Uh, that is not my character. That is a new character, a new idea... oh no! Not Shiny New Idea Syndrome! We have been here before, we got the inoculations. This cannot happen!
*groan* what am I supposed to do with an abstract?

Needless to say, things have not gone according to plan.

However, I have taken myself in hand, given myself a stern talking to, and have managed to regain control of the situation.

Almost. I have finished the elephant's ear/ocean colored abstract. It had to be done. Results to follow.

At least I do have control over the writing craziness. I have written all my fantastic new ideas down, written a short synopsis for each one, written a page or two using the new voice so that a) I won't forget it, and b) it will shut up so I can work on what I really need to. Then, I put them away in a folder entitled: You May Play With Me Later.

How is that for self-control?

In other news: I went to the dentist, got a root canal, and it did not hurt. Not even a little bit. Not even hours later! The staff even gathered round afterward to listen to my barely exaggerated and quite lispy tales of earthquake survival. Then they gave me free lip gloss, which is unbelievably hard to apply with a fat lip, even using a mirror. Mostly it could have been renamed Upper Lip Gloss or maybe, Right Nostril Gloss.

There is a lot to be said for Australian dentistry. Honestly, if all this good stuff keeps up, I may be tempted to overlook the whole giant spider/snake/drop-bear thing and adore this country. Oh, go on. You know I already do.

HUGS for Australia, land of pure awesome.

Water for Elephants -- A Super Gushy Review

2011-08-22T15:49:00.000-07:00

I've just finished reading Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. What a book! This is one of those times when you can see exactly why a story was a bestseller. It's rare that I read a book, even one that becomes a favorite, where there is not a single word or plot point in the story that I would change. This is one of those books.

I'd seen the trailers for the movie and thought it didn't really seem like a story that I'd like, but later, I read that Sara Gruen had written the first draft of this book as part of NaNoWriMo, and I just had to read it. I'm so, so pleased that I did. Apart from anything else, imagining her churning out the draft for this as part of NaNo, the same way I have done, just makes success seem possible, somehow.

More importantly, though, it's just a marvelous story. The whole thing comes together so perfectly, so effortlessly, that you just know she had to work her butt off to make it look that easy. Jacob was a mighty protagonist: funny, layered, interesting, and the type of guy you can't help but root for--whether he was a youth or an elderly man of 90 or 93 years, one of those :)

While reading it, I was enjoying myself so much that I kept having small panic attacks, just praying that the ending wouldn't let me down. It didn't. I mean, really, it was two endings, and I loved them both.

This was a library book because I was so sure I wouldn't like it (I'm such a cynic sometimes), but I'll be buying a copy for myself, ASAP.

What a book. Highly, hugely, ginormously recommended!

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Earthquake Photos

2011-08-19T03:38:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I said I wouldn't be updating on the quakes so often, but darnit, sometimes things happen and I just have to.

Today, one of my facebook friends from home posted a link to this guys photo collection taken very recently in the CBD of Christchurch. I thought the photos were something special. Not just because they allowed me to see what's currently going on in a part of my hometown I couldn't see, even if I were there, but because some of them are just so poignant. They also give you a bit of a post-apocalyptic glimpse into how the world would look if human's just deserted it for six months.

These photos are all marked creative commons by the photographer, Ross Becker, and you can view the entire set (this is only a tiny portion), here. The conditions of use are posted at the end of this page.

This is what happens to bread if you leave it sitting around for six months. Oddly enough, everything that wasn't wrapped has gone.

This is the corner of Manchester Street and Bedford Row. Manchester is one of the main streets in the CBD.

The bus exchange. I spent a whole lot of time here when I worked in town. I bused to and from work each day.

This is the Cashel Mall, one of the worst hit areas. I used to shop and eat lunch in this mall all the time.

Pretty much a whole block of Cashel Mall just gone. It's just surreal.

"There are times when nature feels bigger." I bet those who made this sign had no idea how accurate it would turn out to be.

This one kinda creeps me out, a pair of mannequins propped up against a cordon fence. I've never liked (or, for that matter, trusted) dolls, or clowns, or mannequins. If I ran into these things in the dark, I would probably turn zombie from the sheer shock of it all.

The old Municipal Chambers which collapsed in the Feb quake and are now fully visible since the surrounding buildings have all gone.

They're demolishing the old Regent Theater in the Cathedral Square. The square is another place I spent a lot of time, and I first viewed a movie I did all the art work for in this theater. Quite a few other movies, besides. Especially for my crit partners and beta readers, the brick building to the left of the theater there, that's the Starbucks from ENCORE. The Square is also the Square from ENCORE, not that you'd know it from this.

My ex used to work in that building with "Newstalk" on the side. It used to be entirely surrounded by other buildings, including one of my favorite art stores. I can't see it there anymore, not sure if it has gone or if it's just too hard to see from this angle. So strange to see that one building there while the rest of the block has gone.

This is part of Cashel Mall where Whitcoulls used to stand. I used to buy all my books and office supplies there when I was working nearby. It was a block packed with buildings, all side by side. So bizarre to see it all empty like this.

WIN LOLA & THE BOY NEXT DOOR, CROSSED, & SHATTER ME

2011-08-15T02:33:00.000-07:00

WIN LOLA & THE BOY NEXT DOOR, CROSSED, & SHATTER ME

Awesome contest, guys. Only, don't enter because I want to win. Nah, you can enter. If you must :)

Someday I'll find something to write about that isn't spiders. Today is not that day.

2011-08-02T18:20:00.000-07:00

Great Dane by Me. It's copyright, so don't steal it

Today, I feel like a real writer again. I sent out queries. It's been a creative week. I drew pictures (see above). I might go the whole hog and actually write something today, maybe draw something too. You never know! I've been so busy immigrating and dodging gnarly wildlife that I've not done anywhere enough of either lately.

Speaking of gnarly wildlife, we had our first actual potentially deadly spider in our bathroom the other night. Turns out it wasn't deadly. In fact, the spider I thought it was (a redback) isn't exactly deadly either.

Also, I met my new doctor yesterday and tried to explain to her the particular terror that is the Australian arachnids. She lifted an eyebrow at me, smirked, and said, "You know they're not going to kill you, right?"

Like that makes them any better when they're big as your hand!

I've also done a whole lot of reading lately. I have to admit some of it was boring as all get out and I didn't finish, but there's a lot I loved too. Like "Looking for Alaska" by John Green. So loved that book. It's like a textbook in being awesome for writers.

Oh, and I drove a car for the very first time in a foreign country the other day! Does Australia qualify as a foreign country if I actually live here now? I'm going to say yes, it does. Admittedly, I only drove three blocks and made just one turn and most of the distance I covered was in an empty parking lot, but still, I drove a car in a mostly foreignish country!

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Tales for Canterbury -- An Interview with the Co-editors #eqnz

2011-06-12T05:02:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you all remember the Tales for Canterbury anthology that two friends of mine -- Cassie Hart and Anna Caro -- have put together to raise money for the Canterbury Earthquake. The book is shipping now, and the stories are brilliant. I proof-read one of the sections, so I got a little preview (yes, I can now say I proof-read a story by Neil Gaiman. Not that it needed it, but I am sticking to my story, thankyouverymuch). I have my real, paperback copy in my hands!

Today, I thought I'd share with you an interview I did with Cassie and Anna about Tales for Canterbury. Enjoy!

Me: Cassie and Anna, how did the two of you meet?

Cassie: We met via Kiwi Writer's initially, which would date back 3 years or so. My memory is pretty bad! I remember thinking she was pretty cool, and asking her if she wanted to be a staff member at some point. I think it was probably then that we really started chatting.

Anna: Yes, it will have been Kiwi Writers initially, though we've been involved in a few mostly online projects and I finally got to visit her in person at the beginning of this year.

Me: Anna, what are the best and worst things about working with Cassie? (Ha, bet you weren't expecting that!)

Anna: Cassie has amazing drive, isn't afraid to plunge into things head first and was always prepared to cover for me when life got in the way. She's full of ideas but knows when to be flexible. She was a pleasure to work with and someone I'm very lucky to call a friend.

Worst things? Well I guess the fact she is selfish, short tempered and sometimes plain unpleasant. No, just kidding ;). We have quite different schedules and types of other commitments and whilst at times that worked to our advantage, meaning one person could step in where the other couldn't, it did make co-ordination a bit difficult. And we're in different towns, and whilst that increased our networks, and Google Docs, Dropbox and Google Chat did great things for us, a face to face meeting or two would've made things easier.

Me: Cassie, what are the best and worst things about working with Anna? (Turn about is fair play)

Cassie: The best bit is that she is just so brilliant. I found her really easy to work with - she knows what she likes, and what she doesn't, and isn't afraid to get her opinion across. I always knew where I stood with things. She is a hard worker, and passionate about the things she chooses to get involved in. The worst? Probably the circumstances! We're both pretty busy people and even though we're online a lot, it wasn't always the same time. Sometimes it would be a few days between messages. I imagine it's easier to work with someone who you can see face to face, but I think we did really well considering.

Me: What inspired you to organize this anthology?

Cassie: You! lol Well, you in part. I really wanted to do something, and I kept thinking 'I only have words', which translated into 'I could put those words together... an anthology!' At which point I ran the idea past a few people (typically in the form of: Do you think it would be crazy if I did this? Is this a good/stupid idea?), decided I wanted to go for it, and spoke to Anna.

Me: I admit it, I knew you'd say me. LOL. For those who don't know, Cassie spent the entire day of the quake on Google Chat with me, talking me down from panic numerous times and even tried calling my son (I didn't know if he was okay for hours after the quake) when all the phones in Canterbury were locked up and you could only get through from out of town. I honestly don't know how I'd have gotten through the day without her calming influence. Cassie is one of the things I'll always remember about that day -- in a good way. Thanks, Cassie!

Me: The Earthquake has had an effect on everyone in New Zealand, whether directly or dealing with the emotional aftermath. How has watching what has happened in Canterbury affected you, living in other parts of New Zealand?

Cassie: I think more than anything it's made me intensely aware that no matter where you are, disaster could strike. I've finally got my emergency kit sorted, and feel a lot more prepared should anything happen. I've also felt an immense sense of pride, watching the nation pull together to do everything they can.

Anna: For me, the most visible sign is that on my bus ride every morning I see another chimney being taken down. I don't for a moment want to make comparisons with those still in the thick of it, but I think it has had an effect on everyone, made us a bit on edge and aware of the precariousness of much of our lives.

Quick story for you: in the weeks following I started running through an imaginary scenario of a major earthquake in Wellington. In the aftermath I was safe, my internet had just come back on and I was doing my best to work from home, the roads being inaccessible. I decided that I would need to set up an out of office explaining delayed response times and also to give students emailing me an idea on where to go for help. So, in real life, I went to my employers website and started looking round very confused that there was nothing to tell students where to get support... before realising that this was all in my head. Writers obviously have a very particular way of processing things.

But more seriously, I moved into my current house only last year. A month or so after the quake I had a conversation with my neighbours, about nothing in particular. I walked away thinking that though we may have very little in common, and will never be friends, they are exactly the sort of people who would check on us in a disaster. I've never really thought about the importance of things like that before, and it was quite powerful.

Me: I'm with you, there. One of the things that will stick with me always about the whole earthquake experience, and that is the incredible feeling of community in the weeks immediately afterward.

Me: How has the experience been for you both, as both authors and organizers, as pre-orders came rolling in?

Cassie: It's been a real roller coaster! Huge highs (every time we had another email from an author or someone telling us they thought it was a great idea), and lows (self inflicted, feeling like this was too big for me, or being scared that we might not pull it off). I've loved dealing with all the authors, making new connections, new friends - it's been a phenomenal experience, and shown me just what an amazing community of writers there is in both New Zealand, and beyond. Really humbling, exciting, scary and wonderful all wrapped up.

Anna: What Cassie said really. Intense but very rewarding.

Me: Can you tell us about the authors contributing?

Cassie: I'm not sure where to start! What I can tell you, about the group as a whole, is that they are awesome people. Supportive, committed, just wonderful. It's people like this that make me proud to say I am a writer too.

Anna: Cassie has done an excellent job introducing the writers on the Tales for Canterbury site and I'd recommend checking it out.

Me: You have some incredible contributors, how did you manage to gather up such awesome names?

Cassie: Truth be told - I have no idea! lol thankfully we have some wonderful contacts who put word out to their networks. The response was overwhelming. I think that the old maxim - you won't know if you don't ask - is really true here. Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there and ask. It can't hurt, and you never know what the result might be.

Me: Do you pinch yourself a lot? (because that might leave bruises, you know)

Cassie: I'm covered from head to toe in bruises! It's been quite surreal. I have said 'is this for real?' 'did such and such REALLY just say yes??' a lot over the past few months. The other staple has been 'ohmygodohmygodohmygod.'

Me: When is the book due to be released, and how can people get hold of a copy?

Anna: The book is now available in paperback and ebook form (someone is very slow at answering interview questions...) and can be bought online from Random Static.

Me: What happens to the proceeds of the sales?

Cassie: Apart from the cost of producing the printed version of the book, postage, and transaction fees, every cent will be donated to the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal.

Me: It's been a couple of months now since the February quake, do the people of Christchurch still need help?

Cassie: The people of Christchurch will need help, in some form or another, for a long time to come, I would say. What seems to happen is that there is a frenzy of activity and donating, and then as we get further away from the disaster, and other things happen around the world, the rest of the country moves on to other things. Just because it's not on the news all the time now, it doesn't mean there is no need. We're really hoping that our anthology will help a little - let Cantabrians know that we're still thinking of them, still wanting to help.

Anna: I also think it's particularly important to support Christchurch writers. It may not be the most immediate need, but so many of them - and other creative people - have been blown off course, whether through loss of equipment, time, personal injury, family needs or plain inability to focus. Needs like housing may be primary, but writing and arts are ways people - and places - start to heal.

Me: So true, guys. It's tough enough to go through all of this but to have stress and circumstances eat away at your primary means of self-expression is incredibly painful too.

Me: You've worked on an anthology together before, can you tell us a bit about that?

Cassie: Anna was the editor of A Foreign Country, in which my short story Birth Rights was published - it was from my experience with her then that I knew how important she would be in getting this one off the ground.

Anna: Yes, I last year co-edited A Foreign Country which was an anthology of New Zealand Speculative Fiction. I did swear I wouldn't do another one for a while - I don't regret Tales for Canterbury, but if I start talking about one in 2012 please hit me on the head or something. They were quite different in some respects, particularly in that when editing A Foreign Country I came across a number of writers both new to me and actually new. That wasn't an option given the time restraints for Tales for Canterbury, but I learned a lot the first time round and was able to put much of it into practice.

Me: If we've bought our copy, is there anything else we can do to help?

Cassie: Spread the word! And don't forget that the people of Christchurch are still in need.

Me: Finally, anything else you'd like to add about the project?

Cassie: I'd like to say a huge thanks to everyone who has been involved. It's been an amazing journey, and we really hope you enjoy the final product.

Thanks so much for your time, your efforts, and all that you're doing for the appeal. You're absolute heroes to have done so much in such a small space of time. As a Cantabrian, I salute you both!

By the way -- #YAsaves

2011-06-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to write a post on this subject for quite a while now. This past week, while the WSJ controversy was flying around, I had to force myself not to post right away. I was supposed to be on a break, after all. But, having just read a post by my friend Tricia O'Brien, I thought it was time to post this.

I wrote an issue book. It's dark, edgy, covers a whole range of subjects that I wish kids didn't know about, didn't have to know about. It's the book I wish I could have read when I was a kid. Luckily there were others I did read that did for me what I hope my book gets the chance to do for someone else one day.

Most of the worst things I've learned in my life, I learned before I ever left my teens. Books didn't teach me those lessons, life did. Books didn't wrap me up in cotton wool and keep me safe either, but they did show me there was such a thing as safety and how to be strong enough to hold out for it.

Some might call those stories "dark," but the real darkness lives in real life shadows. Those shadows keep secrets. They keep the worst monsters out of sight where they can grow and sharpen their claws. It's no wonder that we're afraid of the dark.

There is only one way to banish darkness and that is to shine a light into it. Not a jolly, pretty light, either. A big bright spotlight that doesn't leave a single thing to the imagination. YA fiction is that light.

When I was a child, I lived in a "don't tell" world that didn't quite know what to do with unpleasant truths. There were so many things that just weren't talked about. It was a scary and pretty hopeless sort of place.

Abuse hasn't gone away yet, but a lot has changed, and that change matters. Now there are places to go, people to tell, authorities to act on complaints. Sure, it is still far from perfect. The system doesn't always work. Kids tell and are ignored. Authorities are tipped off and can't do anything. But change will continue to happen because of stories.

The world is different now because people told their stories -- or made up stories that touched lives -- and others listened. More stories = more change. If we lay down our pens, who will know? If we pretend the shadows aren't really there, or that they are someone else's problem, they will grow. We've already proven that a culture of silence and secrets doesn't work.

Anne Frank's diary changed the world because it changed those who read it. Whether or not they were ever likely to experience what she did, it made them aware enough to want to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. Imagine if all the stories of the Holocaust were never told or read only by those who had experienced it?

How many people have read a story and been so touched by it that they wanted to change the world? How many future world-changers are being denied the chance to have that moment by book-banners and overly-concerned parents?

Maybe a dark book about a child dying of cancer will inspire a young person to be the one who cures it. A book about rape might make a future mother listen when her child tries to tell her she's been abused.

Those who would ban books, think of what you might be costing the future. By all means, make your own choices. You don't have to agree with me, but please, don't try and make every other parents' choices for them. You may cost the world more than you'll ever know.

.

The 10pm Question by Kate de Goldi

2011-05-28T02:53:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you read a book and you just desperately want everyone you know to read it too so that you can compare notes and talk about the characters? Sometimes leaving the characters behind is so painful you want to drag out the experience by sharing it.

Whatever the reason, guys, please go get this book and read it! Then I'll have someone to talk to discuss it with.

The 10pm Question, by Kate de Goldi is one of the best books I've read in a very long time. It's so good, in fact, I feel inadequate trying to describe it. Here's the blurb from Goodreads:

Twelve-year-old Frankie Parsons is a talented kid with a quirky family, a best friend named Gigs, and a voice of anxiety constantly nibbling in his head: Could that kidney-shaped spot on his chest be a galloping cancer? Are the smoke alarm batteries flat? Has his cat, The Fat Controller, given them all worms? Only Ma, who never leaves home, takes Frankie’s worries seriously. But then, it is Ma who is the cause of the most troubling question of all, the one Frankie can never bring himself to ask. When a new girl arrives at school--a daring free spirit with unavoidable questions of her own--Frankie’s carefully guarded world begins to unravel, leading him to a painful confrontation with the ultimate 10 p.m. question. Deftly told with humor, poignancy, and an endearing cast of characters, THE 10 P.M. QUESTION will touch everyone who has ever felt set apart.

Kate de Goldi is a New Zealand author. I've been meaning to read this book for ages now, and have never gotten around to it. I so wish I had. I can't help thinking I'd be a better writer if I had.

Each character is so well drawn, beautifully and heartbreakingly real. At first, the way de Goldi writes threw me a bit. There are a lot of character sketches, flash backs, description and you must read every word of it -- which is easy because you don't want to miss a thing. Little details are planted and then you get the pay off a few sentences later. It's the sort of thing I'd usually skim past impatiently, but you definitely can't afford to do that here or you'll miss so much. Every detail is worth savoring.

You become part of Frankie's story, his life, his family, and it hurts to let them go when the story is over. For me, this story had extra impact because I believe it was set here in Christchurch. There's no actual firm indication that this is the case, but that's how I interpreted it. It felt like the Christchurch lifestyle we used to have before all the disaster of this past year and that in itself broke my heart and warmed it, all at once.

This book is available in America now, too. It's won awards here in NZ and deserves every one of them. If you're not from New Zealand and want a little insight into our lifestyle, you'll love this. But it's the story of Frankie himself that will break your heart and make you so glad you read this book. His story is universal. There is a bit of Frankie in everyone who has ever felt a little different. He's part-hypochondriac, part-adventurer, part-artist, all real boy.

Do yourself (and me) a favor. Read. This. Book. (please)

Kate de Goldi, you are awesome.

The New Zealand cover. I adore this cover. It makes complete sense in the last quarter of the book and makes me so happy to look at it.

Planking and so on

2011-05-21T17:08:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else think it's odd that extreme napping has become a thing? Cats have been doing it for years, in fact, it'd be fair to say they're the originals, the experts, the standard to which all plankers should aspire. Heck, I'm pretty good at it myself.

I love a bit of adventure. The proper sort, not the sort where you lie on stuff and call it extreme. As a kid, I lived to blat around the BMX track on my bike (which was not a BMX or even vaguely cool, but did get great air off the big jumps). I preferred bareback riding to saddles and even jumped a log bareback. My favorite horse was a slightly crazy gray mare who started her life as a rodeo bronco. I loved that we were airborne and running sideways more often than anything else. I ran from camels, was chased by emus and hid on top of a concession stand when the bison went wandering while being moved from one cage to the next***.

My favorite thing to do while walking my dog in the big nature reserve near our house was to tie him to a tree and climb the rock walls in the quarry -- something I kept doing long past the time where I should have known better. My mother thought I was part monkey because of all the time I spent climbing trees (and once hanging from a branch by my underwear -- true story). Young me would have been embarrassed for the plankers of this world.

Older me is quite pleased with them, though, because they have inspired me! Watching a news item on the latest version of internet numbskullery got me thinking, and now my brand new WIP has a whole lot of extreme stuff in it (YES! I am writing again!). And there will be smooching. Always with the smooching. You know, when I write it and stuff. I've only done 1000 words so far.

I am having a blast. I'm also having an urge to go buy a BMX and find a track with loads of bumps and jumps, but something tells me it might not be as much fun as it was when I was thirteen. That's why writing rocks. I can spend the day living vicariously without breaking my nose (the thing that ended my former BMX hobby).

My case of writer's block may not have lasted long, but boy, I'm sure glad it's over. I know what I want to write, have a fair idea of my characters and where it's going, plus, I know the end very, very well. Yippee!

Alls well that ends in me having something to write.

*** I volunteered at a local nature reserve when I was a kid. I petted red pandas, got spat on by llamas and the camel, was pecked by a duck, and had my hair pulled by spider monkeys. Possibly the very best year and a half of my life.

Crisis of Confidence -- Uh Oh!

2011-05-17T20:58:00.000-07:00

I am really rapt with my just-about-finished WIP. And yet I've decided I am beyond hope and should not be trusted with a word processing program. Why on earth should now be the time when I decide I am a big ol' ball o' useless? Gah.

I have a list of about 10 ideas, any of which would make a good story. Some of them more fully formed than others. I have two I especially like, but my last book was contemporary and they're not (which is part of the appeal), and no matter what I do, I can't decide which one to start with. Plus, now I've learned to be anxious about things like: What if my next subject turns out to be a trend five minutes later so that by the time it's finished, no one will touch it? What if someone else has the same idea and gets it out first? What if I just plain suck?

I think this is what they call a Crisis of Confidence. Normally I suffer from an equally debilitating problem called Way Too Sure of Myselfness. Mostly, it never occurs to me that I shouldn't have complete and utter faith in my ability to be good at whatever I want, if I just try hard enough for long enough. That makes me fairly obnoxious, I admit, so this kind of serves me right. I guess I'm long overdue for a kick in the pants, really.

Hopefully this will pass soon because, well, the baby is asleep and I could be writing!

Any tips for conquering the "I am Useless" bug?

.

Greener Pastures are Green (except when they're not)

2011-05-08T23:00:00.000-07:00

It may be just me, but it seems like the writing life is about swapping one variety of "grass is greener" syndrome for another.

For instance, I finished my WIP (more or less, it's waiting for my critters to read it right now). I have spent the past five and a bit months working hard on it, agonizing, all that sort of thing. As you do. Most of the time, especially the last four and a bit months, I've been thinking, "Aww, won't it be nice when I start work on my next idea?"

Now I'm here, and the grass is all muddy. I have an idea but it's so much work. I have the planning to do. I have an outline to write. Suddenly that seriously kickass story that was floating around in my head when I woke up one morning needs some actual effort.

I can remember how much hard work it was doing all that stuff for the last book. And I know that once I get started planning, all I'll dream about is drafting. Once I get drafting, all I'll dream about is revising. You get the picture. Plus, because I have one book I'm still querying, one I'm soon to start querying, and one I'm about to start writing -- there's the whole dreaming about getting an agent thing on top of it all.

Clearly, I am not an "enjoy the journey" type of girl.

However, I am celebrating too. After all, I have now completed three manuscripts to the point of being ready to query them. I think that's quite an achievement! What's more, I've put in all those months and months and months of work on them, and I still love writing! It is still what I can't wait to do when I wake up in the morning. I still manipulate myself into getting my less pleasant daily tasks over with just so I can get on with writing. Who would have thought it?

So, it's on to the next step. And who knows what might lie ahead in the greener pastures? Crikey :D

Revisions and Music

2011-04-25T16:12:00.000-07:00

There are some songs you could base an entire novel on. Alison Sudol's "Almost Lover" is one of those. "You Picked Me," is another. I love music that makes you feel something, this song definitely does.

I'm trying to ignore my WIP today. It's at that point where it's alternately the most amazing thing I've ever written and the most complete dross I've ever written. Not the best frame of mind to be revising in, in either case. Instead, I've started work on my query. After all, it'll take as many revisions as the darn novel will, anyway. I keep hoping I'll get better at these things, but so far, not so much.

I have a rough (believe me, it's very, very rough) summary that I wrote back when I first thought of the book. It's helped to remind me what I meant the book to be about in the first place, but not a lot else. It even has one of those ambiguous sorts of endings, "Even that could have tragic consequences." Yeah. That'll wow 'em.

Mostly I wrote that because I had no idea how the thing would end. That is a state which continued right up until I rewrote the ending last night into something I finally am happy with (more or less).

There have been five different versions of the last thirty pages or so and all were completely different. I think I've nailed it now. Maybe.

Ah, such confidence. Wish me luck, Bloggiverse, I'm gonna need it.

THE END -- what a wonderful couple of words

2011-04-24T19:31:00.000-07:00

I hope everyone had a lovely Easter! Me? Well. Let's just say my strategy of waiting for the Easter Bunny to leave me chocolate eggs has failed for the second year running. I'm beginning to think he no longer visits when you're a grownup.

What I have been more successful with is my first draft of my WIP! It's finished! Yay! Balloons! Streamers! (just imagine those, I don't have the budget for the real thing, sorry).

Really, it's slightly more than a first draft. Or at least, the first half of the book is more than a first draft. It's already been revised and rewritten a couple times. The second half is fresh out of the box and completely raw. It's long term survival will depend entirely on my critters and readers and whatnot. I'm going to rewrite the last twenty pages or so anyway, I already know that, so it's far from done.

Still, it feels good to finally write THE END again! Especially since my next idea has been brewing away in my brain for weeks now and really would like me to get started on it too. I'm not complaining though. It's a whole lot nicer than having no idea what to write.

So, I'm off to spend this cold, rainy Easter Monday writing. After a quick walk in the rain with my main man, Ryder, of course. Happy Easter, everyone. I hope the Easter Bunny smiled on you (selfish little rodent).

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

2011-04-19T20:53:00.000-07:00

I finished reading "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy this week. Who would have thought I'd have read two books so close together that had such a big impact on me? Especially since there couldn't be two more different books than The Road and Anna and the French Kiss, but both affected me in completely different ways.

I've read lots of reviews for this book, positive and negative. I'm firmly in the positive camp. I don't care that McCarthy made up words, didn't use punctuation properly, used no dialog tags, or quotation marks. I. Do. Not. Care. Possibly this has to do with me having read this via audiobook (and it is brilliant in this format), but somehow, I don't think it would have distracted me if I'd read the print version either. These people live in a new world, a world where all that matters is survival. Names don't matter, so why on earth would quotation marks? It's art. Absolute art.

I had put off reading The Road because I thought it would be brutal and miserable and scare the heck out of me. I was completely right, and I loved it anyway. I've tried to work out why I kept reading something that often had me lying in the dark with my hands clasped to my chest. While writing my own current WIP, I've been thinking, "Don't make it too sad, no one will read it." So you can imagine how much I wanted to understand how Cormac McCarthy kept me reading, wide-eyed and anxious, when there could scarcely be a more difficult book to read.

I have two guesses as to why The Road works, but I might be way, way off. First guess is that it's so beautiful. So, so, beautiful. And terrifying. And even though you never learn very much about the characters, it doesn't matter. Somehow, I think it would have distracted me from the raw beauty of the story if I'd known any more. It was perfect. I was part of their journey, felt what they felt, saw what they saw, and I struggled to return to the real world when it was over.

My second guess would be that despite how awful everything is, you know that they are heading for the coast, they have a destination in mind. You hope that the coast will be their answer -- even when they don't believe that themselves -- and you keep reading to see if it will be. Even though that hope is a tiny, tiny thing, it is enough to sustain you. Apparently hope is as powerful in fiction as it is in life.

It's War, People

2011-04-17T20:35:00.000-07:00

It's been a wild and woolly day or two here in shaky land. We had another decent aftershock the other day, a 5.3 that pushed one of the buildings in the CBD into such a lean it had to be demolished right away. A modern building, too. Not one of the old heritage buildings, and not the 26-story Hotel Grand Chancellor that everyone is expecting to fall over with the next gust of wind. You can check out a video taken at a wedding reception as the aftershock hit here.

Power, water, and phone went out for some. One street in South Brighton still has no water several days later. New liquefaction bubbled up to swallow people's gardens and flood the streets in some suburbs. Now we have a storm that's blown up from Antarctica which is -- as you can imagine -- freaking cold! Lately, living in Canterbury feels like living a whole lot closer to mother nature. Not necessarily in a good way. It has gotten me thinking.

What I've been thinking is this: Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

In our arrogance, humanity has behaved as if we are this planet's kindly benefactors. We have been looking at this all wrong.

As much as we worry about our impact on this world (and so we should), Earth is capable of doing far worse to us than we could ever dream of doing to it. It's time we realized that. Mother Earth isn't a kindly elderly lady who will cheer for even our lamest efforts. She's not even a young girl in a flowing dress with flowers in her hair. Oh, no. She is a sleeping dragon. We live in her cave and we do not tread lightly.

Mother Earth makes Xena the Warrior Princess look like a complete wuss. She is a card-carrying mean-ass bitch. People, it is time to surrender to a far, far, greater foe and start kissing her steel-capped boots before she stomps on us. She might anyway.

Here's a bit of surprising news. It turns out that our world doesn't actually need us. I know, who knew, right? But it's true. The fact is, this place would do a lot better without us. If every human disappeared off this planet right now, in twenty years it would be as if we never existed. We are fleas on a dog that at any moment could decide to take a flea bath.

We are small.

We need to stop thinking about saving the planet as if we are some mighty beings with the power to do exactly that. We need to understand the fact that if this world wants rid of us, it can do that in a million different ways and frankly, we've given it more than reason enough to want to. Stop thinking of it as saving the world, think of it as saving ourselves. We should be bowing and scraping and making some serious amends before she notices what asses we've been. The bad news is, I think she's cottoning on.

Instead of thinking how pretty Mother Earth is, shouldn't we be plain scared out of our minds about what SHE can do to US if we don't shape up? Shouldn't we be thinking about what makes US worth saving? Wouldn't a species who thinks it's okay to love whoever we want to love be a species worth saving? A species that values love and life over money and success? A species who goes to war to protect life and freedom instead of oil? Or even one that shares its medical breakthroughs with all the world instead of just those who can afford to pay for it? Maybe one that allows its dying to do so with dignity?

Wouldn't a species without hatred, or sex-crimes, or child abuse, or horrific animal torture, or internet trolls, or nuclear accidents, or oil spills, or hunger, or plain meanness, be a species worthy of existing? Wouldn't a species that tries to do something about global warming NOW instead of arguing about whether it really exists be at least smart enough to be worthy of a shot?

Shouldn't we be trying to be worthy instead of having the almighty attitude that this world serves us?

I think we have been approaching this all wrong. It's not about loving this planet, it's about being scared out of our ever-loving minds about what will happen if we step out of line. It's about realizing our true worth, our real size. A much healthier and far more realistic attitude, I think.

Just so you know, Mother Earth. I've seen the hints you are sending, and I get it. I am suitably scared.

A Very Special Book

2011-04-15T20:59:00.000-07:00

Recently, as a belated birthday present, I was given a copy of The Wishing Chair Collection by Enid Blyton. It has all the Wishing Chair series in one big hard cover. This is the very one, pictured below.

Oh how I adored those books as a kid. My favorite ever teacher, Ms. Wendt read them to us during mat time when I was seven. What an awesome teacher she was. I loved her for many reasons. She was a hippy, a vegetarian, she called herself Ms. (the first time I ever heard it, and I loved it when she explained what it meant), she adored animals and we always had class pets, she loved art and she read us stories at mat time every day.

When she read the Wishing Chair series, she had the class turn a wooden chair into the Wishing Chair by adding little wings to the legs and painting it beautiful colors. If you had read the most books that week, you got to sit in the Wishing Chair during story time every day for the next week.

I read so many books, I'm not sure any other kid ever got a chance to sit on the Chair. Plus, I adored my teacher, followed her everywhere and desperately wanted her to love me, so sitting next to her was a huge incentive. I was a pretty sad little kid, to be honest, especially that year when I was seven. I think Ms. Wendt recognized that about me and was always very kind and very tolerant. Even the time I started eating natural yoghurt because she did (even though I could not stand the stuff) and followed her around the playground eating my little pottle while she ate hers, asking endless questions about everything.

Thanks to her and my huge desire to sit in that Wishing Chair every day, I learned to love books. Really love them. They took me to a much nicer world than mine. I remember The Wishing Chair series being the first books I ever wanted to really live in. I would go to bed at night and dream about having my own little friend called Chinky and riding on a magical chair that would fly me anywhere in the world, including places no one else had ever heard about.

I was heartbroken when we finished the very last book of the series. Absolutely gutted.

Lucky for me, Ms. Wendt kept the Wishing Chair that whole year. While we moved on to other stories and the other kids forgot about the Wishing Chair, I never forgot and kept reading just so I could sit in that chair beside my favorite teacher. I listened to Ms. Wendt read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach (another two stories I wanted to live in, especially that Peach. I had a thing about magical flying machines) and a huge list of others that haven't stuck in my memory quite so well.

So, as you can imagine, receiving that copy for my birthday was about the most amazingly thoughtful birthday present I've ever received. It was top of my list of books I wanted to find for my collection of books from my childhood. I'd been trying to find it for ages.

While Charlie and James showed me worlds I could identify with, worlds that felt more like mine with some magic added in, The Wishing Chair took me away from my world and showed me something fabulous, while teaching me to love stories at the same time. I'll always be grateful for that.

Anna and the French Kiss -- by Stephanie Perkins

2011-04-14T02:36:00.000-07:00

I don't review books much. In fact, I think I've done it exactly one other time on this blog. Mainly because I would rather rave about something than say anything negative. So, if I want to review something, it's because I love, love, love it.

Obviously, I love, love, love Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins. I mean, who doesn't? I've yet to find a negative review of this book. It took me a while to get a copy because it didn't come out in New Zealand until quite a while after the US release. In the meantime, I read a thousand brilliant reviews of it and my anticipation grew so much, it was worse than the year I had to wait for Ghost Busters to reach the tiny mountain town I lived in back then. I began to worry that, like Ghost Busters, I could only be disappointed by the reality after all that hype and anticipation. For once, thank God, that was not the case.

As a reader, this book has everything going for it. I read it through as a reader, not a writer, which is unusual for me these days. Not once did I stop and grin to myself thinking "ha, you can see how well Stephanie Perkins researched that." I'm sure she must have, but for once, I never noticed that. I thought about the story.

As a writer, well, let me just say that any writer out there could learn a lot from reading this book. Here's some examples of what I appreciated from a writing perspective:

Voice: Stephanie Perkins showed me why it is that agents say they will often take on a book that has a phenomenal voice even if the story itself isn't as compelling (trust me, though, this book has a great story too). If Anna were relating a story to you about the time she was late for school and got a detention, you'd want to read it because of the way she tells it. But Anna doesn't just have voice!

Pacing: Absolutely spot on. This is one of the few books I have ever read where I never skimmed over a single paragraph. I'm an incredibly impatient reader, and I always skim. I didn't this time. I read fast because I was desperate to see what happened, but I didn't skim a word.

Description: The description is perfect. It's unobtrusive and natural in a way I would love to emulate. You soak up the details without ever finding them tiresome or over the top. I know exactly what Anna's world looked like, how it smelled, and what it felt like, but I don't ever remember having those things pushed on me.

Characters: I felt as if I knew them all. Every character had a story, not just the main two, and you cared about them too. I wanted them to be happy as much as I wanted Anna to be. Okay, not as much, but close! What I loved most was how flawed everyone was. Especially Etienne. How wonderful to have a male love interest that you actually could meet, you could see him across the class from you in school. He was the guy you crush on like crazy. Not the movie star you never expect to meet. He's twice as delicious for it, too. Anna isn't some fashion model type either, she's very, very real. I love that Stephanie Perkins has made people's unique quirks part of their attraction. How freakin' cool is that?

Setting: As I said with the description, you feel you are experiencing Paris along with Anna, not being told about it. You notice what Anna notices. You see Paris through her eyes. It's hard to explain but I'll be re-reading this book to see exactly how she does it.

Finally, the thing I loved the most about Anna and the French Kiss was this: when I finished reading, I wanted to start reading it again from the beginning because I just wasn't ready for it to be over. I was sad to leave the characters behind. I kid you not. It is that good.

What else can say except, go buy it if you haven't already. Get the ebook so you don't have to wait! Go, shoo, hurry up! You can totally thank me later. Chocolate's good.

Quick Ryder Update

2011-04-11T23:06:00.000-07:00

Ryder came through his surgery just fine! The vet says she got all the tumor and that it looks like it was a non-aggressive one after all. So she's sending away samples to be sure but thinks it looks really good at this stage. So, yay! :)

Musical Monday

2011-04-10T06:11:00.000-07:00

I know, it's nowhere near Monday in a pretty large percentage of the world (in fact, I think NZ may well be the only country where it is Monday just yet), but Musical Sunday didn't have quite the same ring to it, and I wanted to post before I fell asleep!

So, I thought I'd share one of my musical obsessions with you today. Adele. Her songs are all over my latest WIP's playlist, but this is a special favorite. It's not on her albums, I can only hear it on youtube, but it's worth wasting the bandwidth on loading it up every day. I've heard the song being covered, and the original pales by comparison. Adele is amazing.

Enjoy!

Writing On The Edge

2011-04-06T18:27:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about edgy YA. Not for long, I admit, only about ten minutes since I discussed it in the comments of the last post. But that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it hard.

Although I'm a big fan of edgy YA, I lacked the iron-clad fortitude required to write it myself. To be even more truthful, I didn't want to. For me, writing was about escaping hard truths, not facing them. Now, in my infinite wisdom, acquired over another six months of thinking (infinite wisdom doesn't have to take forever, y'know), I've realized that I was thinking out of my ass. Yes. That's possible. I do it a lot.

When I finished my last WIP, I did it with three marvelous UF ideas waiting in the wings that I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into. Only, I couldn't get into them. There was another story demanding my attention, even though it wasn't fantasy of any sort. It was an issue book, in all it's f-bombing, sex scening, frickin' glory. Bugger.

Writing this story felt quite a lot like explaining the kama sutra to my nana, or dropping a big fat F-bomb amongst her lace doilies and china ornaments. It seems I've written most of it with a blush on my cheeks while peeking at the screen through my fingers. Yeah. I'm a bit lame.

Now I'm on the final stretch, I'm getting more comfortable with all that discomfort. I toss back my head, let out a piratey sort of laugh, and fill the page with whatever needs to be there without wondering what Nana would think. Actually, I kinda think my nana would approve.

I don't want to give you the wrong idea here. I'm not talking about a bawdy tale of sex romps and foul-mouthed multitudes, but there is stuff in there that wasn't easy to write and according to some who've read it so far, it's not always easy to read either (and not in that 'Gah. Wen, will you put your damn commas in the right place!' kind of way -- although there is definitely some of that. I'll never learn). I've sure come a long way from my first book where I made it impossible for my two MCs in love to touch, just so that I wouldn't have to write a kissing scene.

All that blushing and peering through fingers has taught me this: truth is hard, but worth it, and being brave sometimes just takes practice. That's wisdom right there, y'all. *nods sagely*

In the end, it seems to me that it's my job to write the truth as I see it, as well as I can, and if this book should ever see the light of day (who knows, stranger things have happened), then it's up to other people to decide what they think of what I've written, not me. It's definitely the sort of story people will talk about and have opinions on, but good or bad, I think that sort of discussion is as important as the story itself.

Uh-oh. I just realized...what if I have to read this thing out-loud in public one day? I might love public speaking, but that would require a good dollop of dutch courage. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Meanwhile, write on!

Excerpty Goodness isn't a Word but I'm Using it Anyway

2011-04-05T08:49:00.000-07:00

Oh Hai, Bloggiverse. I bet you thought I'd forgotten that I said I'd post an excerpt today. Good call. I had. But now I've remembered.

So here is a little excerpt from my current WIP. It's incredibly difficult to find something that doesn't come with a big fat spoiler. I hadn't realized that almost every paragraph shows what the story is about, or reveals an important part of it, anyway. I'm going to take that as a good sign. Here is the link to the last excerpt I posted, back when this story was just a baby. Already that scene has changed a whole lot.

There is some mild cussing and sex mentioned in this excerpt, just so's you know. The last line has nothing to do with what this book is about, even though it sticks out there like "ooh, look at me, I'm the big thing here!" It's a very sub, sub, sub-plot that's out of context.

Here's the excerpt. It's a first draft, so don't expect too much!

The thin curtain that hangs limp in my window filters the light rather than shuts it out, turning everything in the room cool shades of watercolor. I bet it’s snowing.

From the room next door I hear the sounds of Ruby waking up –- a loud yawn, feet slapping the floor boards, a squeal when she opens the curtain, and still more thuds as she runs out of the room.

“Snow day!” She screams and slams her bedroom door behind her.

I pull my blanket over my head and wriggle down into the warmest part of the bed. There’s mad scrabbling and the sound of my door being flung wide and connecting hard with the wall.

“Snow day!” More thumps and I’m almost flung out of bed as Ruby leaps on top of me.

“Piss off you mad cow!” I kick and fight, but I’m pinned.

“Snow day!”

“Then let me sleep. What the hell is the matter with you!” With a kick and a twist, I manage to twirl around underneath her and roll into a ball.

“Then I’ll go make snowmen without you!” Giggling, Ruby scrambles off me and thumps out of the room. Thank God.

It’s warm under the blankets, my own little sanctuary. Under here it occurs to me how ridiculous it is that someone who still runs around the house screaming when it snows is considering having sex with her boyfriend.

It's Ryder's Birthday

2011-03-29T07:27:00.000-07:00

Ryder saying "please". This is what he's trained to do if he wants something. He looks at it, sits, and lifts his paw. In this photo, he was wanting to be IN the photo. He really likes being photographed. Although he wouldn't have said no to a sausage.

March 30th, three years ago, a puppy was born into a litter of fourteen. The day we first saw him, while his siblings bounced around vying for our attention, he dragged the family barbecue across the deck. His father bit my hand. His mother herded me into a corner and snarled at me. He was clearly the puppy for us. Wise decisions FTW.

Ryder, the day we got him. He still doesn't fit his paws.

Since then he has eaten much that was not *edible, stolen much I thought **unstealable, and filled up a life that I didn't even know had a great big ***Ryder-shaped hole in it.

* 3 pounds of garden bark (one 2000 dollar operation to save his life)
** The best bits in my bed. All I have left is the few inches on the verrrrrrry edge.
*** Before Ryder, Ryder-shaped hole in my heart (aww). After Ryder, Ryder-shaped hole in the garden. True story.

Six months old, at the river

He has left his footprints on the world. Ha, see what I did there? Footprints! Ha.

Like many youngsters, he experienced bullying.

Spike, bully extraordinaire

Ryder, victim

He's developed phobias ranging from the sensible -- earthquakes and tsunamis, to the ridiculous -- werebunnies and *spiders.

* Okay, the spider one wasn't so ridiculous. He did get bitten all over his face by a Katipo spider (NZ's only native poisonous spider). The werebunnies were pretty scary too.

In the forest -- or as we know it, the werebunny lair

He has learned many skills ranging from dancing,

To nannying.

He survived two major earthquakes and thousands of aftershocks without ever looking sad about it.

Ryder, not looking sad

But through it all, he has been my best friend, my constant companion, and the only one more scared of earthquakes than me. Also, the only one to pee on the rug during a quake. Although, frankly, that was a near thing.

He is the biggest coward with the biggest heart, and I wouldn't change him for anything.

Ryder loves his mom, or how she tastes, anyway

His mom loves him too, even when he sabotages my photos by leaping on my knee and posing.

As much as I poke fun at him in this blog, there are few people in this world who mean as much to me as this dog does. No matter what I've been through, how badly wrong things have gone, Ryder has been there. We've been through a major flood, two major earthquakes, and thousands of aftershocks together. Through the worst moments, he was *there. I can always count on him.

Today, for his birthday, he will be living large (at his size, there is no living small)

I love you Ryder. You are the best dog I have ever known and the truest friend I've ever had.

Happy Birthday, my friend.

*Sometimes he WAS the worst moment.

Tales for Canterbury is up for preorder!

2011-03-22T20:23:00.000-07:00

A month after the earthquake and already Tales for Canterbury is live for preorder!

Cassie and Anna have done an incredible job and worked their tushies off to get this thing together. You couldn't get two more passionate people about a project like this. I know because I was talking to Cassie on the day of the quake when she had the idea and went to Anna with it (actually, she was keeping me company and helping me try to contact my son that whole entire day, I'll never forget it, she saved my sanity).

Remember, proceeds from this book will go to Red Cross New Zealand to support the victims of the Canterbury Earthquake and has some amazing contributors including my hero, Neil Gaiman, and my friend, Helen Lowe as well as a completely mind-bloggling list of others. Here is the current list:

Amazing, right? Right!

According to the funds thermometer on the blog, they've already raised over three hundred dollars in the first twelve hours of preorders being available. So come on, lets help them get more! I'm off to pre-order mine now.

Thank you Anna and Cassie. You guys are an inspiration!

Manic Sunday

2011-03-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

Kinda says it all really. Where would we be without our best mates?

It has been an interesting day to be a dog owner today. Also, cat owner. As happens on a fairly regular basis, the animals in this house have lost their collective minds, apparently.

The day began with a migraine, closely followed by Ryder walking into my bedroom and taking a whizz on my floor as I was getting out of bed. I think -- and I have no idea if this is even possible -- that he was sleep walking. He was totally off in some other world, possibly having one of those dreams where you think you're on the toilet but you're really not that plagued my early childhood. In his case, I guess he thought he was standing outside by that one rose bush with the burnt patch in front of it.

I yelped when I saw what he was doing. He snapped awake, stared at me in horror and raced outside. Apparently he'd had that same little dream in two other places in the house overnight. So, either he's a sleep-walking sleep-pee-er, or he's got a urine infection. The first sounds more interesting, but I suspect it's the latter.

Precious, of course, sensed he was in trouble and chased him the whole way outside, batting at his bottom and hissing furiously as they went. Outside, Millie saw him coming and went straight into defensive mode. For her, this means streaking across the lawn at top speed (which isn't actually terribly fast when you're a fourteen-year-old cat) and leaping into the food bowl so that Ryder can't steal any of her kibble. Precious stood guard while Ryder did more damage to the rose bush, and then chased him back inside when he was done. That cat is a control freak.

Great way to start a Sunday morning.

The rest of the day has been less eventful, unless you're one of my characters (and I'm pretty sure none of you are). I've been writing all day.

If you ruled out the migraine and the damper than normal morning, it'd be a pretty awesome Sunday. How was yours, bloggiverse? (Even though most of you are still in Saturday)

Within my soul I made my towers high.

2011-03-08T01:27:00.000-08:00

Napier, a city in the North Island of New Zealand suffered a 7.8 earthquake in 1931 and lost 256 people. I grew up hearing stories about the Napier quake and reading about it in school journals, never knowing I'd live through a similar event. I think it's only modern building codes that prevented us exceeding that loss of life here in Christchurch.

There is a poem inscribed on a plaque in Napier that I thought was so appropriate, I wanted to share it here.

I never understood how man could dare
to watch a city shaken to the ground.
To feel the tremors, hear the tragic sound
of houses twisting, crashing everywhere,
and not be conquered by a sick despair.
Although his buildings crumble to a mound
of worthless ruins, man has always found
the urge to build a stronger city there.
Within my soul I made my towers high.
They lie in ruins, yet I have begun
to build again, now planning to restore
what life has shaken to the earth; and I,
in faith shall build my towers toward the sun
a stronger city than was there before.

That is Christchurch. "Within my soul I made my towers high. They lie in ruins, yet I have begun to build again..."

God Defend New Zealand

2011-03-04T20:56:00.000-08:00

Six more names were announced today, a couple hit close to home. There have been 163 confirmed dead so far and it is expected to rise to about 220 eventually. So horribly sad. Heartbreaking.

There has been good news today, as well. Christ Church Cathedral has been searched and although they thought there were twenty people buried inside, there was not one single body found. That cathedral has been the centerpiece of this city for almost as long as the city has existed. Until I heard this news, I'd hoped they'd just demolish it. How could you love a place that killed so many? Now it really does feel like a symbol for hope. That news was a ray of sunshine on a dark day.

Some people are leaving town, some are staying. I was going to be one of the former, but I've decided to be one of the latter. I've always wanted to leave this country and try living somewhere else for a while, but not like this, not running scared.

I don't blame anyone who is leaving, I really don't. Until yesterday, I was one of them. We'd begun searching for jobs, planning our destination, and finishing renovations on our house so we could sell it. Then we stopped for a moment and realized that this is home. I always thought I didn't like Christchurch. Turns out, I was wrong. I've spent half my life here and more of my heart lives here than I realized. I want to see this city rebuild. I want to be part of the positive.

Yes, it might happen again. We know enough about the Alpine Fault that forms the spine of our country to be pretty sure that it will. But it could also happen anywhere else in New Zealand, too. We aren't known as the Shaky Isles for nothing. I guess it occurred to me that if I have to face horrors anywhere, I'd far rather face them here, on home turf.

Yesterday, I saw the below version of New Zealand's national athem -- God Defend New Zealand. It would mean a lot to me if you took the time to watch/listen, wherever you may be.

The anthem never stirred much in me before. I guess it was hearing it now, when we need it most, that did it for me. Those lyrics sum up this country and everything we've always stood for. I never realized. Heck, I never even knew the whole song! I'm going to learn it now, though. Next time I'm at some event where they trot out the anthem, I'm going to stand and sing every word, hand on heart.

I love you, New Zealand. Christchurch, I love you most of all.

(For the record: when it says "Guide her in the nation's van," I have no idea what they're talking about, but if the nation has a van, I'm pretty sure it'll be an old Commer with a surfboard on top and a map spread out across the dash. It might not be what the songwriter was going for, but I rather like it)

The Heir of Night, UK release!

2011-03-03T04:16:00.000-08:00

The Heir of Night has now officially released in the UK, and to celebrate, Helen Lowe is having a Launch-a-thon on her website.

For every comment she gets on her post, she will donate $1 to the New Zealand Red Cross 2011 Earthquake Appeal, up to $500! This is an amazingly generous offer, and I think Helen deserves a ton of support!

Also, Helen is giving away a signed set of books too, the UK edition of The Heir of Night, and also of Thornspell, too. Head on over there and comment! It'll support Helen, The Heir of Night, and the Red Cross. Yay!

Guys, For Serious, FOR SERIOUS

2011-02-25T02:16:00.000-08:00

I've talked a lot about the Anthology my SpecFicNZ friends Cassie and Anna are working on to raise money for the quake effort, and I've been bursting to share the excitement of the contributors with you.

Here is exciting announcement number one from the latest update on the Tales for Canterbury site:

Neil Gaiman.

Yes. You heard me. Neil Gaiman has allowed the anthology to use one of his stories. This, my friends, is what is known as hope.

He is not the only one either. The list of contributing authors is mind-boggling, to say the least.

Check out the anthology blog here, and you can keep up with the announcements as they come in.

Meanwhile.....Neil Gaiman!!!

Today

2011-02-24T13:40:00.000-08:00

Some more photos of the quake aftermath.

I just wanted to let my contest winners know that the mail in Canterbury is not going to be working until the end of the month and although some were posted, they won't have had the chance from the post office itself yet since most were sent on the morning of the quake. They've warned us mail won't be operating for the rest of the month. I'm sorry about that.

We spent yesterday delivering water, disposable diapers, and toilet paper to friends, family, strangers. We saw things I don't even know how to describe, I'm not sure I want to. All I can say is that Christchurch really needs all the help it can get and the photos above are actually nothing compared to what is really going on. This is not a small city and there are few places in town that haven't been affected. Last time, we needed very little help from overseas and felt quite proud of ourselves for that. This time, things are very different.

Red Cross is still the best way to donate and I can vouch personally for the help they gave during the last quake. They are incredible and helped our family so much. Soon, there will be the "Tales for Canterbury" anthology available as well, which will benefit the earthquake fund as well. This is going to be an amazing anthology, and I can't wait to share more about it.

Now the enormity of this is setting in. The first list of the first officially identified dead was published yesterday, including two babies. One five months old, another nine months old. I've met two of the people on the first list, and I know another who died who hasn't been publicly announced yet. Even the kids grandad had a friend who has died, one of the early ones announced. I knew that would happen, but it sucks far more than I thought it would.

As I write, we have 103 officially confirmed dead, and another 226 still missing. Our landscape has changed so much. It sucks. Just sucks.

We're Still Here.

2011-02-22T15:36:00.000-08:00

We made it through the night in one piece, despite many shudders and groans from mother nature. The news is horrifying, the stories heartbreaking.

There are so many things you don't realize you'll experience when something like this happens, things we didn't experience last time because no one was lost. One of those is the horrible feeling when you see the bodies covered up on the news. Those aren't nameless faceless people you imagine when you see a disaster on TV. Those are OUR people. This is OUR city. These are people who just suffered through a huge quake five months ago, just like me, who were already scared, who thanked their lucky stars to be alive through the last quake, just like me, and this time, they didn't make it. How is that fair?

I can't get my head around it. I'm not sure I want to.

Lots of people have asked what they can do to help. First and foremost, there is the Red Cross. They helped us enormously last time, and I'm sure they will again this time. They're heroes.

Second, my friends and fellow SpecFicNZers, Cassie Hart and Anna Caro, are putting together an anthology of stories called "Tales for Canterbury" to raise money for the Canterbury Earthquake Red Cross appeal. I can tell you, it is going to be amazing and we have some very exciting news about contributors to come.

Here is the blurb about it from Cassie's blog. This will be a very real way to help, and also an anthology I'm sure everyone will be pleased to own:

Here is our initial announcement:

Christchurch, New Zealand, and the wider Canterbury region, was rocked yesterday (22.2.11) by another round of serious earthquakes. This time they struck during the middle of the day causing more devastation, and loss of life, to a city still trying to pick up the pieces from last September’s quakes.

In an attempt to do something, anything, to make a difference, we are putting together an anthology of short stories loosely themed around survival, hope and the future. All profits of this anthology will be donated to the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal, or another registered charity aimed at aiding those in need in Canterbury.

The purpose of this Anthology is two-fold—to help financially, but also, we hope, to provide entertainment and alleviation in a time of crisis. We hope that our words will help make a difference.

We have already begun to approach authors, and the response is encouraging. Mainly due to time pressures, this anthology will be by invitation. However, if you are an established writer, and keen to contribute, please feel free to get in touch with us at just.cassie.hart@gmail.com. We are looking for stories between 1,500 and 5,000 words, of fairly upbeat nature in the general, literary, science fiction or fantasy genres.

Feel free to repost this and get the word out!

The Reading List

2011-02-19T19:47:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to the prize winners from my contest! I haven't heard from everyone yet, so make sure you send me your address to wen(dot)baragrey(at)gmail(dot)com! It's been so great to hear from so many new followers too. I really do apologize for all the glitches on the way.

This year, I've decided to keep track of the books I've read so I can see if I am actually as much of a book nerd as I've always thought I was. Turns out, I may be worse than I thought. That's okay, though. Book nerds are cool, right? Right.

I have to add, though, that all but American Gods and Paranormalcy on this list were 'read' via audiobook. I'm a huge audiobook fan. I love that my local library has an audiobook lending service where you can download them via the internet. Brilliant! Some on my list aren't quite finished yet but are close enough it's clear they'll be finished any minute. Some are also re-reads of old favorites (I've lost count of how many times I've read The Time Traveler's Wife).

So, here's what I've read so far this year:

American Gods -- Neil Gaiman
The Graveyard Book -- Neil Gaiman
Brutal -- Michael Harmon
The Good Children -- Kate Wilhelm
The Time Traveler's Wife -- Audrey Niffenegger
Bag of Bones -- Stephen King
Linger -- Maggie Stiefvater
The Marbury Lens -- Andrew Smith (one of my favorite reads of the past several years, in fact)
The Winter Girls -- Laurie Halse Anderson
The Heir of Night -- Helen Lowe
Paranormalcy -- Kiersten White
Perfect Chemistry -- Simone Elkeles
Hattie Big Sky -- Kirby Larson
Catching Fire -- Suzanne Collins
Eternal Kiss of Darkness -- Jeaniene Frost

Not too bad for mid February. That's not including CP's books or several that I've only just begun. I tend to read more than one book at a time and read for the mood I'm in. I've noticed I'm reading more issue books and contemporary books than I normally would, mainly because my WIP is an issue book, and I try to read a lot of similar books to what I'm working on.

All in all, not a bad start for the year.

We Have Winners!

2011-02-16T01:27:00.000-08:00

We have finally come to the end of the most oddly run contest in contest history. After having had blogger eat half my comments, and put the rest into mediation or leaving them to float in limbo for several days, I believe I have all the entries!

So, here are the winners, as drawn by random.org.

First Prize: Signed copies of Thornspell and The Heir of Night by Helen Lowe, a Helen Lowe bookmark and bookplate (bookplate signed), a cookie time cookie, and a Women on Air bookmark is:

Daniela!!! Yippeeeee!!!

Second Prize: A horse drawing in graphite by me, a cookie time cookie, a signed Helen Lowe bookplate, a Helen Lowe postcard, and a Plains FM Women on Air bookmark goes to:

Natalie Bahm!!!! Woot!!!

And finally, Third, Fourth, and Fifth prizes of: a cookie time cookie, a signed Helen Lowe bookplate, a Helen Lowe postcard and a Plains FM Women on Air bookmark goes to:

Alleged Author, Gideon 86, and Just Cassie!!!! Yay!!! Hoorah!!

If all you wonderful winners could email your address to wen(dot)baragrey(at)gmail(dot)com, I will get your prizes in the mail to you super duper fast, or tomorrow, which ever comes later.

Thank you all so much for your patience and for entering! I wish I had prizes enough to give everyone to thank you all for your support. You're wonderful!

Bloggiverse, we have a problem!

2011-02-13T20:35:00.000-08:00

Guys, I've discovered (thank you Tricia!) that the comments section on the first contest blog post is not working anymore! I am SO sorry to all my new followers who have tried to post their entries to that and haven't had any success.

Please, if you entered my contest, check to see if your comment has appeared, and if not, repost your entry here! I will count all those that have appeared in the other two contest posts here and here, but if yours hasn't appeared, please let me know in the comments here.

So sorry about this! This explains the new followers I've gotten who haven't entered!

If you check back again shortly and find your comments haven't appeared in this post, PLEASE, email me at Wen(dot)Baragrey(at)gmail(dot)com and your entry will be counted.

EDIT: More weirdness! I apologize, but all of a sudden 8 new comments just went through. Sorry guys. I've no idea why or how! Please, still check in case you entered and your entry hasn't shown.

I hope this hasn't been happening to my comments in other posts!

I Thought I Boiled the Fish -- not in the good, delicious way, either

2011-02-05T13:41:00.000-08:00

Don't forget to enter my contest. It's closing soon!

Right now, thanks to sleep deprivation, the members of this household tend to walk around looking a little bemused about everyday things, you know, like how to switch on a light or find the toilet. Twice this week I've woken up in the hallway, clearly heading somewhere, but having no idea where. The only person not looking like they need sleep is the small, extremely alert family member who rarely gives in enough to yawn.

Lack of sleep can do strange things to a person. I wouldn't go so far as to call it hallucinating -- okay, I kind of would, because that's pretty much what it is. You can tell when it's happening. A person -- usually sporting dark circles under their lower lids -- gets this startled look on their face for no apparent reason, and then a few seconds later lets out an audible sigh of relief when they realize whatever the thing they were seeing is all in their head. (This is the sort of thing you can only be relieved about when you're certain it's occurring for an obvious, benign reason. If you were well-rested and seeing the floorboards rippling in front of you, you'd probably react differently. Or, at least, you should.)

I'm pretty creative with my hallucinations. For instance, right now the baby is asleep in his bassinette. This is such a miracle, my brain refuses to accept it, and I keep hearing him cry. He's not. I might soon, though.

Last night was worse. I thought I boiled the fish.

I realize that isn't a bad thing under certain circumstances, like dinner, for instance. This wasn't one of those circumstances. It was late. I was sterilizing a batch of bottles when I heard boiling. The kettle wasn't on. There was nothing in or on the stove. The noise appeared to be come from the corner of the living room. Uh oh. That's where the fish tanks are. Earlier, I'd used the tank heater's outlet to plug in the vacuum. Maybe I'd plugged it back in wrong, somehow, and made the heater get too hot! All those times I wished the fish were gone had come back to bite me on my very sleepy ass.

You see, I don't really like the fish. They are mercenary sods. We only have three left. They're called Golden Barbs and those suckers are mean. We might only have the three of them, but they still manage to have a piranha-esque feeding frenzy over a pinch of fish flakes. They churn up the water and leap about until all the food (or the other fish) are gone. Originally we had about twenty fish, but the five golden barbs we had ate them all. Then, they proceeded to eat each other.

We figure that eventually they will be down to just one, and he will eventually catch sight of his reflection on the glass and attack it until he knocks himself unconscious and drowns. Then, we'll buy some nice, non-cannibalistic fish. Although I don't really like them, I don't believe in boiling anything alive -- even cannibalistic serial killers masquerading as small golden fish. The idea that I had was pretty traumatizing.

While having horrifying visions of small cooked fish floating belly-up on the surface of the tank and me having to tell my daughter what I'd done (which I quickly decided wouldn't happen until the tank had cooled down so I could pretend the whole thing was just another frenzy killing on the part of the fish themselves -- I'm not stupid), I sidled up to the tank, peering at it through half-closed lids.

Turns out, I'd forgotten to top up their water and part of the filter was exposed so it was blowing bubbles on the surface. Most of the noise, though, came from the three crazy fish who were attacking the bubbles and probably trying to eat them. The important part was: I hadn't boiled them.

I'm not sure if that was entirely a hallucination, but it was certainly a lapse in logical thinking. I'm pretty sure fish tank heaters wouldn't boil anything, much less a whole tank. It's a lot easier to say that now, though, when I've had a decent sleep. Might be better for everyone if that keeps happening (the sleep thing, not the fish boiling).

Check This Out!

2011-02-03T15:09:00.000-08:00

Most contesty goodness!

Go check out Helen Lowe's blog today. She has an interview with debut author Beth Anne Miller, talking about Beth's new book, Into the Scottish Mist (looks divine!) and there is a giveaway of Helen's book Thornspell and Cassandra Clare's book, Clockwork Angel. Woot!

Ah, Writing Buzz, We Meet Again

2011-01-13T13:05:00.000-08:00

Ryder's only consolation when he has to have something unpleasant done (nail trimming, de-fleaing, ear drops) that we always play toy with him for a bit to thank him for his "co-operation." Wherever his happy place is, I suspect it involves rope toys.

As soon as the unpleasantness is over, he flies off the couch, races around until he finds the rope toy and then literally throws the thing at me, so desperate it is he to get his reward.

I employ a similar technique for writing, although it's a bit more haphazard. Some days, I have to bribe myself to keep going. "If you just write 1k words, then you can do the dishes, yay!" Of course, the dishes are only a reward on days I really don't want to write. But, sometimes, I would definitely rather do the dishes.

Some days, writing is the reward. "If you will just do the dishes, then you can write as long as you want, yay!" That one works very well.

Even during the writing process, there are rewards and pay-offs. "If you get through this scene which is very hard to write and kind of driving you up the wall, then you can go write that juicy action scene two chapters ahead. K?"

Trouble is, I have to be careful about how many times I use that one. It's happened before that I end up with a whole bunch of killer scenes that need some stuff put in between that I can't be bothered writing. I guess that's where the dedication thing comes in, right? Not this time, though. I've been loving every second of even the scenes I thought would be boring.

Man, I sure am glad I write. How 'bout you?

Best Laid Plans

2011-01-09T15:26:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting conversation the other day on premise, plotting, planning, characters and which dominates when you're coming up with a story. The interesting part, is how differently people put those combinations together. I've thought about this before, but for me, it seems to change with every story. I'm interested to hear how it differs for you guys.

Premise, is usually where I start. I get the Shiny New Idea, and normally, it comes to me with a hint of where a story is going and how it will get there -- more or less. Lately, it's been more of the less. Sometimes, like my current project, Redemption, and my last one, Encore, it comes to me fully formed and ready to go.

Then, I sit down and work out what my theme is, story arcs, main character arcs, and what events might fall where in the three act structure. Usually, by the time I'm done with this, I know the sort of story I'm writing, what the major set pieces might be and of course, how it's going to end -- well, roughly, at least.

After that, I figure out a character to put into that situation. Normally I have a fair idea of who I want them to be, and they build themselves in my imagination. I know some people use character quizzes, etc, but I get writing the story because it's easier to get to know my characters when they're doing something. But then, that's how I like to get to know real people, too.

This is probably why my beginnings always need revamping by the time I've gotten to the end.

The end result usually has a lot to do with sticking a character I've created into the situation I thought up, and then see what they do. Uh. Yeah.

I'm beginning to find, however, that stories can have a mind of their own which is inconvenient of them. So can characters. Mine have been fairly co-operative in the past. Not Vi, though. Nope, not Vi. She has very strong ideas about what she would and would not do, and the story ends up sulky and dawdling when I try to force it. This has actually ended up shaping the story itself. Again, this is inconvenient.

This character is derailing all my carefully laid plans. I've argued with her until I've started to have serious doubts about whether it's actually okay for someone to be chastising a fictional character in their head. Hasn't made a scrap of difference, though. So, I guess it's do it Vi's way, or not at all. Stroppy little madam.

I guess this is where quotes like these come from:

"Writer's aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person." F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I love quotes that make me feel more normal.

I'm interested to see where this ends up. Will Vi bend to my will and put up with the monstrous things I plan on doing to her? Or, will I eventually give up and see what it is she wants to do? Tune in next time (provided I've not gone for a trip in a van with men in white coats) and see!

In Which I do Something I've Never Done Before: Post an Excerpt

2011-01-05T16:13:00.000-08:00

I've always been deeply suspicious about posting excerpts from my WIPs. This is mainly due to my fear of tempting fate, that someone might grab my idea, my precious characters, and write their own version. Well, since I've never posted anything before and both of my past two WIPs have ended up in someone else writing a similar story and having it published before I got a chance to query, I figure it ain't going to make any sodding difference.

After all, how does that saying go? Something about the definition of madness is doing the same thing you've always done and expecting something different? In any case, here is me, throwing caution to the wind.

Here's a couple of excerpts from my current favorite WIP. Its place-holder title is Redemption, but it won't be keeping it. It's a dark and twisted wee tale that keeps me up nights. Beware, the longer excerpt does drop the F-Bomb, twice in fact. (Even more often if you read the entire book).

First, a little paragraph I especially like. Not for any particular reason, but I just do. The MC, Vi, is talking with her younger sister, Ruby.

"“Yes! Thanks, Vi.” She skips along beside me, a twirling ballerina of delight. The way her coat flattens against her in the wind, the sheer lack of her beneath it, it makes me weaker. Not in comparison, hardly that, but in reaction. She makes me worry about her, and worry is weakness."

I like it, I think, because it says a lot about Vi and her relationship with Ruby -- something that is very important throughout the story.

And here's a longer excerpt. Vi, who is having a pretty tough time for a variety of reasons, has a confrontation with her former best friend, Kendra. I warn you, it needs a lot of work:

" After school, I look for Ruby, but she's left ahead of me. She must be pissed.

It's colder still outside. Rain fell during the day and by four o'clock, frost has already turned the wet into deadly slip-traps on the sidewalk. Ahead of me is a small group of girls, giggling and holding each other upright on the slippery path. The loudest is Kendra.

Even in the icy wind, her honey colored hair glows that bit brighter than any of the other girls. It fans out across her back, golden fingers clinging to her coat hood. I'm staring too hard at her, not watching where I put my feet and I skid on a patch of ice, coming down hard on one knee. My bag falls from my shoulder and bursts open, scattering books and homework assignments across the pavement.

Someone laughs, and I hear a voice mutter, “Freak,” but I don’t look up. Cursing, I collect up my things, shove them into the bag, and take a quick detour down the overgrown path behind the corner store before they have a chance to get started on me.

When I hear footsteps following, I speed up, but they're determined.

My bag tugs at my shoulder as someone takes hold of its strap. “Hey, hold up.”

Oh, God. It’s Kendra.

I try on a variety of expressions while I wait for her to match step beside me, and settle on what I hope will pass for nonchalance.

“I’m sorry about my friends. They’re -- not always -- you know,” she says. Her eyes don’t seek out my face until she’s done speaking, until I accept her apology with a nod.

“Anyway, how are you?” she asks. She’s friendly as she ever was, and if I were a dog, my hackles would rise in suspicion. But I’m not, and so I answer with a quick shrug.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Jesus, Vi. Aren’t you even going to try?” Her tone is the peevish one I’ve become more used to lately.

For a moment, I consider an apology. Then, I remember the months of cold shoulders, ugly looks, and all the times she didn’t care what her friends called me.

I try to focus on my feet scuffing through falling leaves, on the sound of my heart, of my own breathing. Instead of the angry words, the true ones, I say, “Is there a reason why I should?”

“Whatever. No, fuck you, Violet. Fuck you.” She stares at me, hands undecided between resting on her hips and maybe slapping me. I wish she would. It’s easier to fight when you have a declared enemy.

There are a thousand things I could say, and I know I’ll think of them later, but for now, I’ve got nothing. Instead, I focus on the crumbling asphalt path, and on where I’m going to put my feet next as I walk. Kendra doesn’t follow. I’ve left her a good fifteen feet behind before she says anything else at all.

“They’re right. You are a freak. Just like your old man. The only one of you worth anything is Ruby!” Her voice is so loud that I’m sure the wind will carry it around the whole town. There is no one in Drayton who won’t know exactly what Kendra McAllister thinks of me. Then again, I’m not sure I care, or if there is anyone left who doesn’t already know.

With every step I take away from her swiftly fading ones, the lighter I feel. By the time I get home, I’m almost happy to be there. Almost."

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-20T22:33:00.000-08:00

The above is my favorite Christmas song this year. Warning, some words NOT safe for work! You have been warned.

It's taken us a while to get into Christmas this year. After all theres been moving, hospitals, telephone companies I'd like to strangle, my son going flatting, and numerous other things I'd rather not remember. However, my Christmas Spirit has finally made an appearance. It sort of had to, I had Christmas shopping to do. Which I've done. Mostly.

I bought Ryder a cricket ball (because they're solid and usually last most of Christmas day, not all, but most), and three tennis balls.

Well. He'd stolen one of the tennis balls before I even got the parcel wrapped. Then, he spent half the day with his chin on the coffee table staring at the silver-wrapped parcel under the teeny tiny tree I bought. He would be not distracted from this by anything, well, except for the half-eaten tennis ball he stole. Other than that, he was a god of concentration.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next?

I go into my room to do something and Ryder follows me a few minutes later, with his entire parcel in his mouth. At least it was still in one piece, all three balls still wrapped up inside. That's better than my sister's dog, Geordie, who picked out all the dog presents from under her tree and unwrapped them earlier this week. Geordie is an experienced present unwrapper, and to his credit, he only opened the dog ones.

Ryder's parcel has been brought to me about a half-dozen times now. He still hasn't worked out how to unwrap it, thankfully, but he's prepared to play a game of fetch with it just the way it is.

I've finally found someone who is even worse at waiting for their Christmas surprises than I am. I would never have believed it possible!

Anyway, in case I don't make it back on here to say it again -- Merry Christmas (or other Yuletide holiday of your choice) my wonderful blog friends. I'm so grateful for you all, for your comments, for your support when it was needed, and for the fun I have reading all your blogs, too. Have a wonderful time with your family and friends, and enjoy the season!

New Hair and NaNo Fear (I'm also a poet)

2010-11-13T18:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I had DJ cut off all my hair. Okay, not quite all of it, but enough that my head feels several pounds lighter and many degrees cooler. Every time I chop my hair off, I swear I'm never letting it grow again, but I always forget. Hopefully, I'll have this post to look back on and remember how much I love it short! To top it off, I figured I'd dye it blue black while I was at it. It's only hair, after all.

Lucky for me, I'm fearless when it comes to my hair. I guess having shaved it all off before means there's really not much that can scare me when it comes to hair disasters. Also luckily for me, DJ is a top notch hair dresser. She really is. She's never trained, but she's fantastic. You give her a photo and she replicates it, just like that. My photo was of P!NK, and she got it pretty darn close. Okay, the color's different, but that was my doing :)

Not that it's smart to put a photo of me right next to a photo of Pink, since I'm only going to suffer by comparison, but as you can see, pretty close approximation of the hairdo, there. If I were a little more brave with the hair height, it'd be spot on.

So, I have no problem being fearless with my hair. Now all I have to do is work out how to be as fearless with my writing. I have no idea why it is, but writing this draft has left me absolutely crippled with fear. I think it's partly because I am now more than aware of how much goes into producing a manuscript finished enough to query. I know what a mountain I have to climb, and it's totally stopping me in my tracks.

I push on, but it's work. Every single word is hard, hard work. I keep going, but it's definitely not the easy breeze it usually is. I'm darned if I can figure out why, other than the reason I already mentioned, and I'm sure there has to be more. I sure hope I get over it, though, or I'll never get this thing finished in time for NaNo!

When Torture is a Good Thing

2010-11-12T12:26:00.000-08:00

NaNo -- fear me, I am the ruler of your guys! At least, I'm catching up, that's the main thing. I'm still around 10k words behind, but I'm gaining.

I've had a few stumbling blocks with this project. Sure, life has gotten in the way a few times -- but that's never stopped me before. If I have something to write, I'll take my little netbook with me anywhere and write in between conversations if I have to. It's been getting into the project that's been hard. I love the premise, love the characters, but I just couldn't make myself care.

I figured it out, though. I needed to put my characters in real peril, in order to feel for them. So, instead of writing scenes in order the way I usually do, I skipped forward to one of the meaner scenes in the book, and voila, I love them. Now, I have a better idea of where I'm heading and things are starting to flow.

On her blog today, Janice Hardy is talking about conflict and the various ways you can create it. Such a good post! Sometimes it's easy to get stuck in the most obvious ways of creating conflict -- obvious things like a physical antagonist and the main problem your protagonists face. There are so many other forms of conflict, though, and thinking through all the various ways in which you can torture your precious characters, is a great way of finding depth in the story.

I suppose it's logical really -- if it takes good, solid conflict to make your readers care about your story and your characters, then it makes sense that it helps me care too.

In the end, I'm simply glad that I am writing and having something to write. NaNo, watch your back, I'm coming for ya!

Oh, Ryder

2010-11-10T05:00:00.000-08:00

For almost a week now, we've been bathing Ryder's injured foot, drying it carefully, applying antibiotic/anti-inflammtory/anesthetic cream, and giving him anti-biotics twice a day. It's been a freaking nightmare. If that dog put half the thought and brain power into not getting himself hurt/not eating my underwear/not stealing my freshly baked cookies from the rack/not stealing food he's allergic to/ and not destroying every toy he's ever owned, as he does into avoiding medical treatment of any sort -- well, all our lives would be a lot easier and he'd spend a darn sight less of his day in time out!

The foot-bathing procedure is how we usually begin the day. It goes thusly:

Lure Ryder into the bathroom with the promise of a toilet roll cardboard core to play with.
Back him into a corner so he can't run backward.
One person wrap their arms around his neck while the other wrestles his foot into the bowl with the antiseptic in it.
Dry the foot thoroughly with paper towels.
Use the rest of the roll of paper towels mopping up the contents of the bowl.

Then, it's time for the cream. It goes thusly:

Lure Ryder into the living room.
Wait until he takes what he believes is his rightful place on his favorite couch. It doesn't take long.
One person sits on him.
The other person smears cream between the offending paw pads.
Tape a sock to his foot to prevent him a) licking off all the cream, b) gnawing on his toes, and c) making his tongue go numb from the anesthetic cream.
Clean up the cream from the couch, the floor, us, in fact -- everywhere but Ryder's paw.

Believe it or not, these are the easy steps. Next comes giving him his antibiotic pill:

Get a hunk of dog roll sausage from the fridge.
Hide the pill in the sausage.
Call Ryder.
Watch while he slinks up with his ears flat, his head down around his ankles, and generally attempts to make himself appear as small as doggedly possible.
Make excited noises about how he's getting a treat.
Toss him the bit of meat.
Wait while he chews it, and spits out the pill, having swallowed all the meat.
Wait for ten minutes in the vain hope he'll have forgotten it's pill time.
Chop up the half the dogs daily food into little chunks, put it in their bowls and generally pretend that for no apparent reason, we're now feeding twice daily. Hide the pill in a bit of meat inside the middle of the dinner.
Call both dogs and give them their bowls.
Watch while they eat.
Watch as Ryder spits out the tablet, having found it even in the very middle of food mountain.
Watch as, at the speed of light, Phlee snaps up the tablet and eats it whole. Because, although she hates pills and will never eat one you try and get her to take, she will snap up Ryder's in a heartbeat because it's something he has that she doesn't. As you can tell, giving Phlee tablets is easy. We just give them to Ryder first.
Shove a hand down Phlee's throat and try to retrieve the tablet and eventually give up.
Get another tablet.
Back Ryder into a corner.
Unceremoniously shove the tablet down his throat.

Then, we do it all over again that night.

Okay, so it doesn't always happen exactly that way. We have learned a thing or two, and really, Phlee only got away with eating the one tablet. It would be fair to say, though, that every day brings with it it's own set of challenges as Ryder comes up with new and inventive ways not to accept any form of medical intervention whatsoever.

Honestly, this dog would never have made it through the rigors of natural selection in tact. It's a struggle to get him through with all the assistance modern veterinary science has to offer. He's now going through his day staring at us with what can only be described as extreme skepticism in his eyes. Gone, is the trust between human and animal. Gone, is the almost psychic bond between my best mate and me. Gone, the cuddles, snuggles, and slobbery smooches. Only temporarily though, like, until he wants on the bed.

So Much for Writing Retreat

2010-11-07T15:52:00.000-08:00

Once again, it is a Wen-fail. I spent three days and a couple of nights at my sister's house, house/dog/chicken sitting, and it was meant to be all about writing. How much did I write? Not very much, actually. I'm not sure why, but things did not go according to plan. Day one, I got a headache in the middle of the day and had a nap. That night, Strange Noises kept me sufficiently freaked out to make sleep a distant memory. So, I ended up napping most of the next day to make up for it, the rest of the day was taken up playing in the sprinklers with the dogs and other house-sitting-related duties.

I settled down to do some writing that night, but the noises were bad enough, I called my son to come and stay the night. Luckily he did. In my defense, the house is out in the country, there are no comforting street lights outside, it's been slightly damaged in the earthquake and made a metric butt-load of strange noises. Add to that, the storm roaring away outside, and I was freaked.

Next day, I made sure the house was all clean, stacked up with firewood, and animals all content before I left to get my sister from the airport. So, writing turned out to be the last thing I managed to achieve from my adventure. To top it off, I'm stuck.

Yep, despite having an outline -- sort of -- I am going a whole bunch of nowhere with my NaNo WIP. I'm beginning to suspect I needed to take at least a few days off after the last one, before starting on this one. Every word I write is hampered by the all-too-recent memory of rewrite after rewrite after rewrite. It seems like hard enough work connecting with new characters, giving them a new, fresh voice and all that stuff -- without thinking about how many times I'm going to have to change every stinking word before it's ready to query.

*sniffle*

I'm not blocked, I think I'm post-editing shocked instead.

Ah well. No excuses, that doesn't get writing done. I'm off to argue with my draft and convince it to shape itself into something I approve of. Pronto.

NaNo -- I'm No Nay-Sayer

2010-11-03T22:39:00.000-07:00

Meet Ryder, saddest dog in the whole universe. He has infected toes and is wearing a sock so he can't lick them. It's wear the sock, or wear the Cone-of-Shame. He can't go to the river until it's healed. He can't go for a walk until it's healed. He can't play fetch until it's healed. All he has left is his ability to sulk, and he's making good use of it.

I've noticed something since NaNo started that I didn't notice last year -- NaNo bashing. What the heck is that about?

I won't comment on the articles/tweets/blogs I've read that have done an anti-NaNo piece lately, because I'm not a controversial type of girl. I don't tend to take up blog space being anti anything or anyone, if I'm thinking sensibly, anyway. Unless you count earthquakes. I am extremely opposed to those. Also, the way cereal goes all soft and mushy in the bottom of your bowl, no matter how fast you eat it, I'm fully prepared to complain about that. Most other things, though, I'm pretty cool about.

So, I figure, rather than debate anything -- pro, con, or otherwise -- I'll just tell you why I NaNo.

When I a little girl, we had a yearly Telethon in New Zealand. They were a huge deal. It was the only time TV ran for twenty-four hours straight, in those days.

It was a huge, nationwide, event. Think Band-Aid boiled down to one rather teeny country at the bottom of the world. We had overseas celebrities join in, people we'd never see here otherwise. There'd be music, entertainment, acts you'd never see otherwise (and sometimes that was a very good thing), local center's where you could go join in, businesses and schools got involved, you could run your own fundraising project, and you could even phone in and talk to your favorite celebrity when you made a pledge. If you watched hard enough, you might even see your name scroll along the bottom of the screen with your donation amount.

My sister and I rang one year to talk to this Australian actor I had an extreme crush on. Lisa and I were on phones in different rooms. She managed to talk. I giggled. When I had nothing intelligent to say, the very nice man said, "So, how 'bout those All Blacks?" Yep. I was that big of a nerd at fourteen. The All Blacks are our national rugby team -- in case you're wondering, and you probably are.

I remember being nine-years-old and doing a sponsored walk around my dad's ten-acre spud paddock to raise money for the Arthritis Foundation. I walked around that darn thing twenty times in my bikini, got a monster sunburn and have never been prouder of myself.

Anyhoo. What I loved about Telethon was the way it brought everyone together and made you feel like you were part of something special.

We stopped having Telethons sometime in the eighties, and I'm not entirely sure the country has ever been the same. Now here is where I segue this nicely back to NaNo. Bear with me.

The first time I got all caught up in the frenzy that is NaNo, was the first time since the eighties that I've felt quite so involved in something with that much of a community feeling. Oh, sure. I know there's a writing community. I'm part of it, I know that. But taking part in this one event where you know there are a bunch of other people being just as crazy as you -- some of them wonderful, professional authors or agents -- is such a buzz!

Sure, it's crazy, and what you produce won't be usable, not until you've done a lot of work on it.

But, does it have to be, to be worth it? Does everything about writing have to be deep, meaningful, and involve working toward publication? Sometimes, we can be a bit crazy, not care about quality, not care about being professional and doing everything the right way -- and what's more, we can do it with a bunch of other people who want to be crazy, too.

It's like a free-for-all, where for once, you just get the story out of you without caring how you go about it. It's like a carnival, freedom, pure fun!

If there's harm in that, well too bad, world. I'm having a blast.

So, whatever the arguments anti-NaNo are, I don't care. I'm not arguing with anyone. All I can say is, that's why I do it, and why I'll keep doing it, if I'm in the right place writing-wise to have the free time in November.

To my fellow NaNoWriMos, good luck and keep it up! You're not saving the world, true, but guess what -- you don't have to! I'm having a blast following everyones progress on Twitter, even though my own is rather slack!

NaNo -- By Crikey

2010-11-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

NaNoWriMo is officially underway. Woot! So far, I'm doing utterly dreadfully. I've managed 1496 words and I very much doubt I'll be keeping a single one of them. I started out thinking my MC was a boy. Then he was a girl. Then he was a girl and a boy. Then just a boy again. Now, a girl. And I'm not happy about any of the options. This is not helpful. Every option I choose has downsides.

Argh. All this indecision despite having a jolly fine outline all worked out. Just goes to show, you can't possibly think of everything.

I'm off house-sitting tomorrow night, which means three days straight of writing, writing, writing. I sincerely hope it goes better than yesterday. I ended up researching nonsense, debating new songs for my playlist, finding photographs on newfaces.com of my MCs and did a bunch of housework that didn't even need doing but seemed like a better alternative than writing at the time.

I have to keep telling myself that I'm pretty sure NaNo started out this way last year too, and didn't get going right until over a week in. Then I scorched through and finished in three weeks. I can do it again, right?

*gulp*

Woot! NaNo, Day One -- and Epic Halloween Fail

2010-10-31T15:23:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween, everybody! It's all over here in NZ, we're firmly into Monday now.

I do love Halloween. We've always made a big deal of it in my family, even though it's not a New Zealand sort of tradition. This year has been a bit different, what with earthquakes, babies threatening to arrive two months early, and living in temporary accommodation and all. I think Christmas may be a bit of a non-event this year too, for that matter.

In fact, I sort of forgot that we needed candy to hand out and sent out the kids to scavenge some before the trick or treaters arrived. That is when things went slightly awry.

I may have forgotten (although goodness knows how) exactly how big of a wuss my dog is. I may also have forgotten that we normally shield him from the variety of traumatic experiences that Halloween offers by keeping him well away from the front door and the little ghosts and ghoulies. I also may have forgotten that there are no curtains in half of this house, the French doors in the lounge cover one entire wall.

A small group of trick or treaters arrived, cute as little buttons in their zombie and ghost outfits. Poor little things can't have been more than eight or nine. I guess our house must have looked scary, because they huddled into a little group and approached as if, oh I don't know, we might have a crazed hell-hound living here or something.

Well, when Ryder saw them through the French doors, he froze. He stood there, staring at the startled group of zombies cowering in our driveway, feet spread, pure terror in his eyes. Then he ran. Into the hallway. Where he cried like I'd just shown him a bottle of eardrops or something.

Phlee stood up on top of the sofa back and tried to "eye" them. You know, that thing sheep dogs dog where they half-crouch and stare until the sheep get the wiggins and run away? Yep. That.

You have to admit, a black dog (even a medium sized, bordering on porky black dog) staring at you, perched on the back of the couch, could be a slightly disturbing sight -- especially after the other dog appeared to run for his life.

I went to run outside with my bucket of candy IOUs to assure the kids it was safe, the dogs weren't going to hurt them and were, in fact, quite mortal -- but I was too late. I got to the driveway just in time to see the last wisps of zombie rags and ghosty sheets disappear around the corner.

Aww, man, I feel bad about that.

To be safe, I put the dogs in their crates and covered them with blankets, so they wouldn't have to suffer the sight of the approaching zombie apocalypse. It was no use. We didn't get a single other trick or treater. Apparently word of the two nut-case dogs in our house had spread, and no one else ventured our way.

Oh, well. There's always next year.

Meanwhile, I waited up 'til midnight so I could be one of the first in the world to post their first NaNo update. However, I only managed 240 words before falling asleep, so my first update was a bit tiny.

It was an epic Halloween fail on all counts, really.

NaNo -- Here I Come!

2010-10-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

Sleeping is not my forte. I suck at it, with so much skill, you'd have to say I'm good at being bad at it. I'm a five hours a night kind of girl, and I wish I wasn't. I love to sleep. It's got everything going for it, and very little going against it. Since the quake, I've been even worse.

Until this morning! Yay.

I slept all night, and when I woke up this morning, I fell asleep all over again. It was brilliant. That's probably why I now have Shiny New Idea Syndrome. It seems like you get one, and then dozens of others follow it until you have a huge abundance of them.

Last time this happened, the sheer number of ideas put me off getting properly started on anything. But, this time, I don't have time for those sorts of shenanigans! NaNo starts in a couple of days and I'm going to be ready. Luckily, Shiny New Idea #1 was so perfect, there hasn't been another I'd rather do -- yet.

I'm really excited for NaNo. It's such a great feeling, having a reason to make writing the number one priority for an entire month. Of course, other priorities stick their noses in, but it's nice to be able to say you're committed to it. Roll on NaNo. I am so ready for you!

PS: If you're doing NaNo this year (I'm beginning to feel like one of the brave few!), come along and friend me. I'm Wen Baragrey on there.

The Evolution of an Idea -- Kinda

2010-10-27T13:22:00.000-07:00

It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, it was a warm and sunny morning, but that doesn't sound anywhere near as cool (or cliche).

Anyway, I wanted to sleep in this morning, but I failed. I don't even remember the last time I managed to sleep in, or sleep longer than five hours in a row. This morning, I was determined, so I rolled over, squeezed my eyes closed and tried to force myself to sleep.

You know how well that works, right?

Ten minutes later, I figured I might as well give myself something to think about. Being caught awake when you really want to sleep doesn't mean you can just lie around lolly-gagging, you know.

So, I decided to think about how the process of coming up with an idea works. Not just any idea, but the bright, shiny, glossy version of an idea that makes you leap out of bed, shout "Eureka!" (and then have to spend twenty minutes calming the dog down because he thinks there must be an earthquake since Mom's gone all shouty).

I'd like to tell you I worked it out, but I didn't.

I rolled over.

And as I did, I had a bright, shiny, glossy idea that made me leap out of bed, shout, "Eureka!" and then I spent the next twenty minutes calming the dog down because the thought there must be an earthquake since I'd gone all shouty.

Unlike last years poorly timed burst of kickass inspiration that (eventually) turned into ENCORE, this one decided to arrive right before NaNo started instead of smack in the middle of it. That is remarkably considerate of it. What's more, it arrived fully formed, complete with one of the most endearing characters I've ever thought up, the most heart-breaking problem, a plot, twists, and everything. Best of all, I think this may be the best idea I've ever, ever had.

It's just perfect, so sweet, and sad, and ....and....I can't wait to get started! Four more days to NaNo! I'm sure I can whip up an outline by then.

Conveniently, I'm off on a three day writer's retreat (well I'm house-sitting my sisters gorgeous house for three days -- ah the solitude) on Wednesday. Perfect timing. I should have this NaNo thing wrapped up in a couple of weeks. Theoretically.

And all I did was roll over.

Crit Partners Rock More Than a City on a Faultline

2010-10-23T15:04:00.000-07:00

I know this isn't exactly news, but it bears repeating -- critique partners rock.

How much?

So much.

They're there to pick you up when you've decided you're the worst writer ever in the history of the universe (not that I'd ever think that about myself, obviously *cough*). They point out the very best things about your work, spot the very worst, and sometimes, they offer pure genius -- even without meaning to.

That genius can come in surprising ways. Sometimes it can be as simple as laughing at one of your jokes with enough enthusiasm to make you open up word when you thought you didn't want to.

Other times, it can be one little comment bubble on your manuscript that says something like, "How is she feeling when she does this? Show me." that leads to some of the best stuff you've ever written.

That is how I think you know when you have a great crit partnership -- when you get a comment that drives you to something bigger and better than you thought you could achieve. It isn't when they say, "You need to do exactly this, and this, in order to fix it." It's when they show you a space you've left and let you fill it with yourself. It's the way they challenge you to be more yourself that matters.

That's why I love my crit partners, Tab and Lisa, so much. Also, Tab is my best friend and Lisa is my sister, so I love 'em anyway -- but you know what I mean. They always bring out the best in me. They make me surprise myself. Also, I get to read their stories -- stories I adore that make me laugh, cry and secretly write down little gems to stare at in envy.

Yay for Critique Partners. How much do you love yours?

Itchy, Itchy, Scratch, Scratch

2010-10-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

You wouldn't want to visit my house right now. Well, you might, I do have homebaked cookies that are quite spectacular. But, you'd have to wade through a mountain of dog hair to get to them, and that can be quite off-putting.

It's moulting time. *insert dramatic sigh here*.

Usually, moulting time is not that bad. When you have a 100 pound German Shepherd, it obviously means a lot of hair, but provided you're willing to vacuum twice a day, it's okay.

Except for this time.

The earthquake, two weeks staying with my sister, and then moving house really upset the dogs, and as a result, they have stress eczema. Both of them. Phlee is half-naked and Ryder is just really itchy. This means everywhere Ryder goes, clouds of fuzz follow him. When he scratches, which he does a lot, then those clouds turn into small cyclones.

Phlee doesn't leave as much hair about as Ryder does, although she makes a reasonable amount. But, Ryder -- oh my goodness -- you have never seen so much hair! It's banking up the walls, getting caught under the sofa and hearth -- it is everywhere. I'm vacuuming twice a day, and DJ is vacuuming once. I vacuum the floors, DJ vacuums the dog.

Yes. I said vacuum the dog. It's the best way to cut down on the amount of fluff and fuzz there is about the place. Usually, he fills the vacuum at least once during these sessions. That's one whole Dyson tank full of hair that would have been all over the house if he hadn't been vacuumed.

How that dog isn't naked by now, I have no idea. But, no. He still has what appears to be a full coat.

He used to be mortally afraid of that horrible vacuum machine. It made an awful noise and occasionally sucked up his favorite toys. Now, though, he's an addict. During the two times a day I clean the floor, Ryder gets ahead of me, strategically placing himself spread out on the floor, hoping I'll vacuum him. When DJ gets out the vacuum, he spreads himself out, legs in the air, waiting for his turn.

Really, though, I just can't see the need for all this hair. What use could it be to anyone? I suppose birds could make a fabulous nest out of it, but not many birds come inside my house -- and those that do don't tend to make it back out again (three cats, people). I wish he'd just get this eczema/shedding thing out of the way so I could go back to the good old days of only having to vacuum once a day (it's never been easy).

I wonder how a German Shepherd would look if you shaved him? Kinda makes me feel better, just imagining it.

A Day Off can be a very Good thing

2010-10-18T01:42:00.000-07:00

I think that sometimes, being a good writer means not writing for a bit. Of course, I would say that, because I've spent all day doing just about everything but writing.

Today, I learned how to animate stuff. No, not RE-animate stuff. That's a whole other kettle of fish, although worth looking into for Halloween.

No, I animated a little movie. I think I've found a new hobby. I had so much fun. My only regret is that I can't work out how to convert the completed file into something I can post here on my blog so I could show you all. I'm trying out Flash tomorrow, that should be make things easier.

The truth is, I'm done with my novel until my Crit Partners (The Barking Society) get back to me after reading it. I'm not going to start the next one until November 1st for NaNoWriMo (<--- friend me!). That means I have a grand total of nothing to write. It's rather nice.

So far today, I've written a song (mostly), animated a 30 second movie, felt five aftershocks, cleaned up some unspeakable mess that Phlee made, taken Ryder for a long walk in the dark (during which we both got the wiggins so bad we ran the whole way home <-- true story) and avoided being the one to cook dinner. All in all, a pretty successful day, I'd say. To top it off, I came up with a Shiny New Idea while I was at it. Which just goes to show, sometimes you have to refill the creativity bank in order to get anything else out of it.

I knew there was a moral to this story.

Drawing the (Out)Line - A Guest Post by Janice Hardy

2010-10-14T03:13:00.000-07:00

I'm completely chuffed to be hosting a guest post today by Janice Hardy on the subject of outlining.

As you know, I'm a big fan, so this is a pretty awesome moment for me! Welcome Janice, and I hope you all enjoy the post. If you have any questions for her, leave them in the comments. Be sure to visit her blog, if you're not already a follower!

First, here's a little about Blue Fire, Janice's latest release -- second in the Healing Wars Trilogy.

Part fugitive, part hero, fifteen-year-old Nya is barely staying ahead of the Duke of Baseer’s trackers. Wanted for a crime she didn’t mean to commit, she risks capture to protect every Taker she can find, determined to prevent the Duke from using them in his fiendish experiments. But resolve isn’t enough to protect any of them, and Nya soon realizes that the only way to keep them all out of the Duke’s clutches is to flee Geveg. Unfortunately, the Duke’s best tracker has other ideas.

Nya finds herself trapped in the last place she ever wanted to be, forced to trust the last people she ever thought she could. More is at stake than just the people of Geveg, and the closer she gets to uncovering the Duke’s plan, the more she discovers how critical she is to his victory. To save Geveg, she just might have to save Baseer—if she doesn’t destroy it first.

Drawing the (Out)Line

When I first started writing, I tried every outlining and plotting technique that came my way. I was convinced that if I found the perfect template, all my plotting problems would be solved. I was wrong, but all that trial and error did help me discover something important.

An outline that worked for me.

It didn’t solve all my plotting problems, but it did make it a lot easier for me to write my novels. I discovered the essential pieces I needed before I put words down, so I didn’t spend as much time spinning my literary wheels. It gave me enough structure to let my stories develop naturally, but didn’t plan so tightly that my creativity stagnated.

Just like not all feedback is going to work for your story, not all outlines are going to work for your writing style. You might not even be an outliner, but a pantser. To find the outline (or not) that works for you, try looking at how you plan your novels, what you need to start them, and what you need to finish them.

How many important events do you like to have before you start?
These are the critical set pieces of your story, then turning points that the rest of the novel hinges on. I need seven before I can do much with a novel. The opening scene, the inciting event, the act one climax, the mid-point reversal, the act two climax, the act three climax, and the novel climax. I may not know exactly how those events are going to play out, and they may change as I write, but I need a basic idea of the overall plot to guide me as I develop my story. Do you like to know just the inciting event? Do you have just two or three big moments? Do you like to know every chapter goal? Every scene goal? This can help determine how tight or loose your outline needs to be.

Do you need to know your character arcs?
Sometimes we don’t know what the plot is, but we know a character needs to undergo certain changes between page one and the end. Those changes happen over time, and that timeframe could be the framework of your novel. You might know your protag needs to be shocked out of her stupor by chapter five, but not know what you’re going to do to her to make that happen. But it gives you a goal to write toward and an outline that works for you.

Do you work off your reveals?
If you’re writing a mystery or thriller, the plot might hinge on when information is revealed. If events need to happen in a certain order, they can guide you through your story. When do clues need to be found? Secrets revealed? Secrets discovered?

Do you have a theme?
Themes are a great unifying structure for outliners and pantser alike. Major thematic elements can guide a story as easily as character goals. What problems best exemplify your theme?

What’s missing?
Look at the things you usually know before you write, and then look for the things that stop you writing. Do you often find yourself having to go back and research something? Figure out a major plot point in the same basic area every time? (Like middles bog you down, or that next big moment right after the inciting event) Do you need to work on character arcs before you can move forward? The things that stop you might be things you can add to your outline template. Spend a little more time at the start, and you might not be stopped later.

Putting it all together
You might be the type of writer who needs just one of these, or you might mix and match, knowing a few major plot events, the basic character arc turning point, and the big reveals. You might just know your theme and your protag and run with it. Take a little time to think about how you’ve crafted your novels, what roadblocks you hit and when, and create an outline that addresses those sticking points.

A writer’s process is a personal thing. A cookie-cutter template might not work for you, but it doesn’t take a lot of work to create a guide that fits your style and guides you onward.

Janice Hardy
A long-time fantasy reader, Janice Hardy always wondered about the darker side of healing. For her fantasy trilogy THE HEALING WARS, she tapped into her own dark side to create a world where healing was dangerous, and those with the best intentions often made the worst choices. Her books include THE SHIFTER, and BLUE FIRE from Balzer+Bray/Harper Collins. She lives in Georgia with her husband, three cats and one very nervous freshwater eel.

Blue Fire's Online Retailer

Janice's Website

The Other Side of the Story Blog.

Shakes, and not the Delightful, Milky Kind -- Unfortunately

2010-10-12T21:48:00.000-07:00

Today, I was at the mall collecting party supplies for the babyshower tomorrow. Incidentally, that name always makes me nervous. Have you ever tried to shower a baby? Not easy. They're small, they wriggle, they're very slippery when soapy and wet, and tend to make a lot of noise if you pour water on their heads -- even in lots and lots of little droplets.

I love the mall. It has wonderful things like food courts with Indian food (which I had for lunch -- I'd be jealous if I weren't me), shiny shop displays, two bookstores, and a bunch of toilets I can never find when I need them. What's not to like?

Well. Let me tell you. There are a few things, and here's my list -- compiled just today.

Mother's who have never learned the word "no," or realized that it doesn't mean a darn thing if you say it and then let the kid do what it wants anyway.
Bookstores who hide their YA section. It. Is. Annoying.
Aftershocks when you're in your favorite bookstore, with a handful of books. It feels like you're being punished for doing your very most favorite thing when you were supposed to be buying party supplies, and that isn't nice, Mother Nature.

Number 3. on that list, was definitely the worst.

It's just, I'm utterly terrified of being in a mall (even worse a mall's multi-layered carpark) during a quake. You're in this big area you don't know very well, there's a decided lack of solid objects to hide under, and you don't know where to find them. I had to go to Westfield Mall a couple of weeks after the big quake, and it still bore the scars of it. My son, who likes to scare me, told me that part of the roof had collapsed in the Big One. I don't know if that's true or not, but it did nothing to ease my paranoia.

Today, I'd been determined to face my fears, and we'd already been in the mall a couple of hours when the quake struck. By that time, I was getting a bit cocky about the whole thing, telling DJ that being in a mall during an aftershock, probably wouldn't be that bad. You'd think I'd know better.

It was only a 4.1, and not even that bad of a one, but it felt a lot worse since I happened to be holding a handful of books I knew I couldn't afford, in a bookstore, in the middle of a mall. It did give me a chance to observe the rather stoic nature of my fellow Christchurchians, though. Honestly, we are a kickass, super-tough group of folks. Actually, everyone else is, I'm a big wet baby who almost burst into tears.

The side to side movement started, along with the now-familiar underground rumble, and everyone froze. Just stopped right where they were and held their breath. DJ and I looked at each other, wide-eyed and waiting to see if it was going to escalate or die off -- something we always do now, because the big quake started with something not too bad that kept building into something you really didn't think you were going to live through.

It stopped, and as if someone flicked a switch, everyone went back to what they were doing.

Not me, though. I threw my books back on the shelf, except for the ones I was buying for a birthday present, and raced to the counter. It was a sad day for impulse publishing purchases, I can tell you.

Now, I've been evacuated from that same mall twice for fires -- one a false alarm and one an actual fire -- and been there for an earthquake. Point taken, Mother Nature, I will quit with the shopping.

A few hours later, we had a big 5.0 that woke me from my nana-nap. It was much worse, but at the same time was a lot more bearable, because I was home and felt safer.

We've had over 1600 aftershocks since the big quake. We probably felt maybe half of those, and you know what? You do not get used to it. You'd think you would, but you don't. It's not as bad as it was that first week, but it hasn't improved since then. Each time a shudder hits, you're just as freaked out. I watch my fellow citizens of ShakyLand, and I'm amazed just how brave a face we're all putting on it (except me). This town truly does rock, and not just the ground.

Kickin' Ass and Takin' Names

2010-10-04T19:14:00.000-07:00

I've been busy (understatement of the year). I've finished my first draft (well some of it is first draft, some of it is thousandth draft, depending which scene you're reading). I've organized my way out of a thousand real life issues, and organized my way into a bunch more. I've given someone who richly deserved it the telling off of their lives. I've even managed to sleep occasionally. All in all, I'm not just Wen anymore, I'm some new ninja-ass-kicking-in-yer-face me. SuperMe, if you will.

Don't worry, bloggiverse, I have not forgotten you while being all Super. I have a treat for you too.

Today, Janice Hardy announced on her blog that she's off on blog tour this month. And guess where she's stopping over on October 14th? Why, here, that's where! Yay! I'm a huge fan of Janice's. I've just read her ARC for "Blue Fire" which is about to be released, and I've followed her blog since before "The Shifter" came out. It's one of the greatest blogs for writing advice I know.

See how Super I've been, bloggiverse? I've gotten a truly awesome author to come post here, just for you. You're welcome.

Celebrations and NaNo -- what do these have in common? Me!

2010-10-03T16:25:00.000-07:00

I'm finished my WIP! Whoop! This is huge news for me, it's been a year in the making. There have been three false starts, numerous ups and downs, and I've nearly given up on it dozens of times. Finally, it's done.

It's the little WIP that could.

To celebrate, I signed up for NaNo -- because there's nothing like signing up for a crazy month of writing your guts out after spending an entire year writing your guts out. Come join me! Click on the NaNo icon over there <--

I've got my outline all prepared for my next story, so I'm all ready to go!

Whoop, whoop!

Down Time - Kinda.

2010-09-22T15:32:00.000-07:00

It's my day off today, and I am thrilled. Well, day off except for picking up a new sofa, visiting with a real estate agent and taking photos of the crevice that is growing every day in our old backyard. Even with that lot, it's the closest to a down-time day I've had since Sept 4th, and I need it.

I started out not entirely sure what to do with myself. I'd intended to begin with a sleep-in, but got woken at 6.22am by the strongest shake I've felt in ages (4.5, shallow and less than 10k from home). Ryder was in the kitchen having a drink and came galloping down the hall to my door way and shoved me right out of it. Good on ya, Ryder.

Now, my revised plan for my day off includes belly dancing lessons on TV (check), a load of washing (check), fighting Ryder to get his very noisy plastic ball off him (check), pancakes for brekkie (double check), sweeping the house (erm, eventually), taking Ryder for a good long walk around our new neighborhood (can't wait!), reading my crit partner, Lisa's, book (can't wait!) and writing. I'm putting aside most of that now for writing. I'm desperate to write something!

Looking at it now, it's not as much of a day off as I was anticipating. Actually, I'm not sure what is different from every other day -- no house hunting, moving house or unpacking, I guess.

Yay?

Ryder and the Safety Plan

2010-09-21T04:53:00.000-07:00

Ryder has the survival instinct of a champion. I think this has already been well established, but lately, I've realized just how serious he is about it.

For instance, door frames. When the quake struck, of course I ran for the nearest door way -- mine. Only, I had to warn DJ, so I ran to her room -- but her door was slamming itself so I had to leave it. The hallway door was slamming too. So I ran for the outside door -- pretty much the stupidest place to run -- and the entire way, I had a Ryder attached to my hip. The world had suddenly gotten mighty scary and when things get scary, Ryder is always right there, freaking out like a maniac.

So, by the time we made it to the doorway where we would ride the quake out, Ryder had already worked out door frames were the desired spots to occupy. We've had many hundreds of sizable aftershocks since the big quake, they're still going every day, and a few of them have been strong enough to send us all scrambling for the door frames -- but I rarely beat Ryder there.

What I didn't realize, but should have, is that our new house is near the airport and there are a lot of international flights landing and taking off, and those big planes make a lot of noise and things shake. The sound is not dissimilar to that of the quake in the beginning before it got really going. Of course, the first plane we heard sent us scrambling for door frames. Only the first though, except for Ryder, he doesn't give up so easy.

With every plane, Ryder zips under the nearest door frame and sits quietly, staring at me, and won't leave until I've joined him under there. I don't have to stay, just go stand under the frame for a second and then it's okay for us to go back to bed. It seems he's worked out being there is a good idea, but that staying there isn't required.

Tonight, he seems to have improved a little. Now, when he hears the roar he gives me this squinty questioning look to see if I'm going to run. When I don't, he stares at the frame for a while, then looks at me, then stares back at the frame, and if I'm still not running, he lets out a big sigh and snuggles back down in the bed. If I'm scared on a plane, I look at the stewards -- if they're not freaking, then there's nothing to freak about*. Apparently, the bed is Ryder's plane, and I am his steward.

Seems to me that dogs are just as traumatized as the rest of us. Mind you, Ryder was a bit pre-traumatized to begin with. He's been living in a state of near panic since he was 10 weeks old (possibly longer, but I didn't know him then). Phlee seems to be entirely over the whole thing, so she's made of sturdier stuff, but then, so is the scaredest scaredycat in the whole world.

Still, at least it means Ryder has slept in my bed with me every night since we left my sister's house. Unlike the old days, he doesn't leave, fidget, complain, try to shove me out of the bed, drool on my pillow, or leave to sleep on his favorite armchair. Now, he curls up behind my legs and barely breathes for fear I'll send him away out of sight.

I'm sort of hoping that one day, he'll reach phobia critical mass and suddenly turn into the bravest dog in history. It could happen, right? Right? No? Didn't think so either.

*At least that's what I always did until Lisa pointed out to me that stewards are paid to look calm when things are going bad. Now I'll have to figure out a new method -- or just freak out and be done with it.

I'll Be Back

2010-09-17T15:44:00.001-07:00

Well, we're all moved into our new house. However, the phone won't be connected until Monday. It's got a fault and oddly enough, there aren't too many technicians available to fix things right now. So, I'll be a bit scarce. I will be back though!

Home, James!

2010-09-16T01:04:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be more-or-less AWOL for a couple of days while we move house. I'll have internet tomorrow, but I'm guessing I'll be sleeping when I'm not packing and unpacking! So, I'll see you soon from my new address in the heart of suburbia, lots and lots of miles from the ocean and broken houses. It's been wonderful staying with my big sis, she and her hubby (and her menagerie) have been wonderful to us. I'm really going to miss them all. It'll be wonderful to have my doggie back though. I might see him for hours each day, but it's not the same as having him right there with me 24/7. Yay!

Run! For Your -- Oh, Never Mind.

2010-09-14T03:53:00.000-07:00

So, sometime in the middle of the crazy, we all went to Lisa's house. There, we ate fine Indian food (at least those of us with taste did, the rest ate pizza). We also played Cranium - an activity I heartily recommend. Much merriment was made, I drank an entire beer (hadn't done that in years, although have done it fairly regularly since, I must admit), and a great night was had by all -- even though my team was soundly beaten.

Before the merriment had begun, however, we had an experience that with the benefit of hindsight was pretty darn funny.

As we pulled up outside Lisa's house, we saw something that darn near had us get back in the car and take off in the opposite direction.

What was this horrific visage, you may ask? If you guessed were-bunny, you'd be incredibly wrong. I'm practically not scared of those at all -- now, anyway. No. It was a group of about seven people running toward us. Now, there was a time in my life when such a thing wouldn't really mean much to me. Even now, seven running people isn't exactly scary, not really. However, when it's dark and those people are wearing bright orange fluoro vests with reflectors on and are running toward you, things change considerably. Especially if you've been living in an earthquake zone and seen rather a lot of Civil Defense people wearing orange vests with reflectors.

If the Civil Defense are running, you better be running too -- or preparing to kiss your ass goodbye.

So there we were, standing on the curb, staring down what we sort of thought was death on legs, only to discover they were just a bunch of fit looking joggers. I have to wonder what they thought of our extremely shocked expressions and white-knuckled death grips on the car doors. We were, after all, in quiet little Rangiora where there really hadn't been much in the way of Civil Defense folks about the place and where you still ran for fun rather than self preservation. I guess that's what they call having a different perspective on stuff.

It's a perspective I'm rather hoping to have again myself. I mean, a bunch of guys in shortie-shorts ran past me and all I stared at was their fluoro vests. That is precisely the sort of behavior I want to stamp out before it starts setting some sort of a precedent.

My Heroes

2010-09-13T05:22:00.000-07:00

I think this will be my last post about the quake, itself. I had a few things I wanted to say, that I'd meant to say since the first day, and didn't get around to.

First, I think we had a miracle. Sure, we all had to go through an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, but it was a miracle. Quakes like that have left literally hundreds of thousands of people dead before. Whatever you believe, there was someone looking out for us. Each day, I read more stories about people who survived by some quirk of fate, who would have died otherwise -- from a baby who was especially grizzly that night and so was in her parents' bed instead of in her crib when the ceiling collapsed on it, to a girl who had gotten a glass of water from a kitchen that had a chimney collapse onto it only minutes later.

We had our miracles too, and our heroes.

Mine-- For three nights before the quake struck, I had been wide awake at around 4.30am. Each night at about that time, I felt my bed moving back and forth and thought there was a quake. Each morning, I checked the geonet site to see if there had been, and there hadn't. On the morning of the quake, I was awake and felt the first few shifts back and forth, and despite having felt the exact same thing for the past three mornings, I knew immediately that this one was real (I don't know why, it felt no different) and that I had to run. I got from my bed, warned the kids, and got to the back door to hide before the worst even struck. I'm one of the few people I know who managed to get out of bed. I didn't save anyone, or do myself any special favor by being out of bed, but it did give me one thing -- I'm the only person I know of (so far) who saw what happened outside, and I'm glad I did (now).

I saw along the length of my house as one end of it rose up in front of me as if I was riding a rearing horse. I saw it go down and drop in front of me. I saw our fence lean down until it almost touched the ground. I saw the lights go out, followed moments later by the streetlights. I saw explosions as transformers blew up. In the middle of it all, I saw the night sky and was awed. It was a crisp, perfectly clear frosty night. You could see every single star in crystal clear perfection. It didn't seem possible that the sky didn't shake, or fall. I saw it all, and I'm glad.

My daughter -- This kid is a true hero. She found Phlee, got the car going by lifting the hood and fixing the idler that had been shaken loose so there was no acceleration. She drove away from our house with her head through the window because the windscreen was frozen and we had no water available to wash it clean - and for all we knew, no time to waste doing it. Then, she found exactly the right streets to drive on to avoid the worst damage to get us out of town - that was no easy feat. When I asked her how she figured out where to drive, she told me it was deja vu. She said when the shaking started, she'd known exactly what would happen - from not being able to get up from her bed, to losing her cat, to finding my son at his friends house, to which roads to take to be safe. She said it was all in her head from the first moment and she just did exactly what she already knew, and knew we'd be safe. Despite being afraid, she never missed a damn beat.

Her boyfriend -- When they realized the shaking was too bad and they wouldn't be able to get off the bed, he threw himself over her to hold her steady and protect her. There is nothing more I could ask of any boy who loved my girl than he gave that night. He helped get us out and away while staying completely calm and never showing a sign of fear. He made all the phone calls in the car on the way to my sister's, when all I could do was swear a lot and gabble incoherently. Most of all, he made us laugh when I would never have believed such a thing could be possible.

My son -- He was at his best friends house when the quake struck. Like many boys I've heard of, they almost slept through the entire thing. (I know. I can't believe it either!). Apparently, he woke up and said to his friend, "What's going on?" and his friend looked up and said, "Don't worry, it isn't real." They almost went back to sleep. Yep. :) Once they actually woke up, they stood outside looking a bit bemused, and were there when we arrived in a hysterical mess. Instead of following us, my son did what he always does, went off to be a hero. He helped a friend's family whose house was right by one of the towns main rivers. The house had sank into the soft soil and filled with water. He went to his work and secured the place. He transported his friends all over town to where they needed to be, and spent the night protecting our house.

My sister, Lisa -- She was as calm as she always is and made us bacon and eggs for breakfast. This is a remarkable skill to possess in times such as these, believe me. Thanks to her, we had a place to regain some sanity.

My other sister, Sheryl and her hubby -- Sheryl was staying in a very scary place when the earthquake occurred -- a little beach place on the peninsula that was rattled as hard as we were in sandy New Brighton (the coast in general got slammed very hard). The house was right on the beach, literally, and so they also had to run in case of tsunami too. They spent several hours in a homestead up the hill, went back to get their things, and came home. We've been staying with them since. They've made us feel welcome, like we're not in the way, and she's even been kind enough to insist I've made her feel better by being here. I'm not sure if she's just being nice, but I hope it's true. I'd like to have contributed something in all this! Two weeks is a long time to harbor a family of lost souls, including two dogs (each weighing more than her three dogs combined), and they've been wonderful about it. I am exceptionally grateful. Her house is damaged too, and I'm hoping it will soon be restored to the safe haven it's been to all of us.

Bella -- Bella is my sister's dog, an almost five-year-old West Highland Terrier. She's taken a bit of a liking to me since I've been here, and she has made my life so much better. While Ryder has been largely confined to barracks, and I've been missing him horribly, Bella has been on my lap and followed me around, and generally been a doggie sidekick when I've needed one very badly. Little heals your fears faster than having a doggie nose pushed into your palm, or a hairy belly presented for a tickle.

There you have it. My heroes.

On Friday, we move into our temporary new home. It's a relief and a worry too, going back into the shaky city. Now though, Christchurch feels like a place I'm fiercely proud of, if a little terrified of, and I feel like I should be back there. In a strange way, it feels more like my home now than it ever did before.

Thank you all for listening to my garbled rambles of the past week and a bit. Hopefully, I can get somewhere back to normal from now on. On the plus side, I have some deeply hilarious Ryder stories to share - along with a cast of doggie and kitty characters you've never heard of before.

Time For a Lolcat

2010-09-12T02:00:00.001-07:00

I drove through the bits of the city center we're allowed in today and cried when I saw some of the buildings. Things have changed so much. Our city has more gaps than a six-year-old's mouth, but there is still so much that is the same. We have nothing to mourn but buildings and some peace of mind. I'm eternally grateful for that. We are incredibly and overwhelmingly lucky.

I'm going to try and get entirely back to normal, maybe even get some writing done. We felt a decent aftershock while we were parked, and this time it didn't scare me. It gave me pause, as they all do, but I wasn't frightened. That has to be some sort of progress, right?

On Friday, we move into our new house. It's back in town, but it's nowhere near the ocean. That's good enough for me!

For good measure, here, have a lolcat. You're welcome :D

One Week, and Life Goes On

2010-09-10T22:23:00.000-07:00

I'm not really scared anymore. I can't believe I'm saying it, and I hope I'm not tempting fate by saying it, but I feel pretty good. All things considered, I lived through something that could easily have killed us all, and didn't. I survived, my kids survived, our animals and friends and family all survived. We're clearly tougher than we thought.

Now the city is getting back to normal, it's easier to just get back on with life. Sure, there's cranes holding up some buildings and knocking down others, there's portapotties lining the streets where there's no sewerage, but all in all, it feels like it always did -- my city, my home. Life goes on, I hope.

Next Friday, we move back into town into our new house. It feels safe there. The dogs can be with us all the time again, it'll be great. The aftershocks are finally slowing down a bit, which helps everyone's nerves to settle. Maybe I'll even get around to writing something that isn't this blog soon!

Almost a Week

2010-09-10T02:14:00.001-07:00

In about seven-and-a-half hours, it's going to have been a week since the earthquake. It's kind of surreal. Tonight, we're venturing upstairs to sleep for the first time. Today, things felt a little more normal.

Last night, we went to my sister Lisa's house and ate Indian food, drank beer, and played Cranium. We laughed so hard, we didn't even notice the aftershocks while we were there. We left happy, full, exhausted and ready to sleep -- which we did, all night.

Hopefully, we'll get a good sleep tonight and tomorrow will feel a lot brighter.

Meh.

2010-09-08T12:58:00.001-07:00

I wonder what today will bring. I'm not sure I actually want to know, but I wonder.

We're supposed to be looking at a house today. I'm trying to be enthusiastic about it, but getting my head around the idea of moving back into the city has really thrown me. I cried for over an hour last night before I finally fell asleep, and then had nightmares all night long. Still want to cry this morning.

Yesterday, I managed to dust the house, vacuum, spend lots of time with my dogs, look for houses, lose my cool at someone who didn't deserve it, cry a bunch, go shopping, have a nap, find a house to go and see, play guitar and realize I've forgotten every song I ever knew, and just ended up feeling worse no matter what I tried. My sister and brother-in-law are saints. They've let us stay here and have made us feel incredibly welcome no matter how difficult it is. I am truly truly lucky. You still feel guilty for imposing on someone though. Mainly, this whole thing seems to dump about as much guilt on you as it does silt, bricks and roof tiles.

I'm trying really hard to do the right thing, but it's so hard to know what it is when your mind is all tangled up. My daughter needs me to be strong, to lead by example, but where am I meant to find the reserves to manage it? I'm trying so hard, but I feel like I'm stumbling at every hurdle. I don't have all the answers, in fact, I'm not sure I have any.

My son is staying in our old house to protect it right now, he's not in the slightest bit afraid -- that he lets on. He wants to stay there and go flatting with some friends when all this is sorted. Of course, I knew my son would move out one day (although there were times when I wondered), and I'm thrilled he's ready to -- it's just I never thought it'd happen like this, in the middle of a disaster when I really want to see his face every day and know he's okay. I never thought he'd be living in a house I'm too scared to stay in, right by the sea where tsunami's live.

There are some people, like my landlord, who think you're being irrational if you're too scared to return to your home. There are others who think you're being irrational if you even want to go back to your house to collect some things. Me? I just think I'm irrational for not having gotten on a plane and leaving the shaky isles for good.

I just want out of here, but where am I meant to go that's any better? All of New Zealand is one big criss-crossing network of faultlines -- both known and also unknown like the one that just hit the city. Where do you go to feel safe again? The Moon?

Big Aftershock

2010-09-07T13:07:00.000-07:00

Just had a big aftershock. The powers out to parts in town, there's fresh cracks appearing and the business district is being evacuated again. Will this ever end -- in a good way?

This Stuff Sucks

2010-09-06T05:27:00.000-07:00

Sorry, was tough to get time to get online today. I've been in town trying to sort out our house, and find supplies, and go to the doctor (my daughter sprained her back and neck, it turns out. No wonder she's been so sore). My son and his friends are staying in our house, and by all accounts, they're having a ball.

It's been an awful day. Trying to find somewhere else to live is impossible. There's hundreds of people scrambling for every house advertised.

Food is getting a bit short in the supermarkets and water is impossible to find. We're boiling it for us and the animals.

Everyone is shell shocked. In some parts of town, people are smiling and looking brave -- ignoring after shocks. In other parts, they look empty.

Today in town we managed to get evacuated from one mall because of a fire. Get to another and not be able to find a toilet, but eventually finding a portaloo. We saw utter devastation that somehow just doesn't come across in photos accurately. Seeing it with your own eyes is something else.

We got lost by the cordons trying to find my son to give him the food we bought for him. We experienced two big aftershocks. We burst into tears several times, got lost in the detours on the way out and basically never want to go back. However, I have to go back. I've got a hospital appt in the morning and since they've made the effort to make it possible, the least I can do is be there.

On the way home, we had to cross the river that has been threatening to flood, and saw it was bank to bank.

I came home and got my dog, took him into the paddock and sat under a tree to cuddle for as long as we could before the rain got too heavy.

Now, I'm so tired, so stressed, and exhausted. We just had another big aftershock on the same faultline as the big one, a 5.2 that was shallow. Minor damage is being reported over a wide area.

My dogs are spending too much time locked up, and I feel so guilty about it. The only alternative is that they spend all day alone at the house the quake happened in and they're not going to like that much. Or, I could send them to the SPCA quake relief center for animals, but Ryder wouldn't eat last time he was in a regular kennels and Phlee already is losing all her hair because of anxiety related eczema. I don't think I could do that to them, but I'm not sure what I am doing is any better.

Worst of all, I've got people relying on me to be brave, to know what to do and where to start, and I'm not brave and I don't know the answers. I'm not sure there are any.

For once, I wish I'd been a bit more successful at marriage, because someone to share this with would be rather nice.

Honestly, it's enough already. We need a break. Just a good nights sleep would make all the difference.

Fear Itself

2010-09-05T03:58:00.000-07:00

You know how they say, the only thing to fear is fear itself?

Erm. I do not agree.

Some of my friends and family are coping like heroes with this whole situation, carrying on like nothing happened, or at least being only mildly shaken. I, on the other hand, am not. I have to be honest, I'm scared out of my tiny mind. It's almost like I'm the Ryder of people (Ryder being my dog, for my new readers). I don't mind admitting it. Every aftershock just sends me into a panic right now, while my son sleeps through them all and thinks I'm a hysterical nut. He might be right.

I think this may be my comeuppance for so much time taking the mickey out of Ryder for being a big baby.

The truth is, I think Ryder may have kept me from getting really hurt. Since no one actually lost their lives in the quake, I won't say he saved my life, but I think he kept me from getting hurt. It took me a few hours, actually most of the day, to remember everything that happened during the quake. One thing I remembered right away, though, was what Ryder did.

Admittedly, he was a hero because be he was terrified, but that still makes him my hero. He couldn't climb me or hop on my lap because I was upright (well occasionally upright), so instead, he ran between my legs and stayed there, no matter what. Phlee ran around me (erm, and they both pee'd themselves, but I don't blame them one bit!) Thing was, I held on to the door frame and was flying around like a rag-doll. But because Ryder was under me, I couldn't go down, I couldn't go flying out the door, I couldn't get hit by the furniture that slid around the room. All I could do was stay in the doorway in one place.

For his trouble, he now has a very sore back and his hips are way sorer than usual and he has to stay in his crate until we have somewhere to go, except for a few walks a day. More than anything right now, I miss my dog. I'm used to having him right beside me, sleeping on my bed, and being my best friend. The main thing is, we're safe and he's safe, and unlike a lot of people -- I have my kids and I have my animals and we're all safe. But boy, I really miss my dog. He's my big hairy hero :)

Tomorrow, I'm going to tell you about another small group of heroes. My daughter - who had the most incredible head on her shoulders and got us drove us through the earthquake damage to a good distance away from the sea safely. My daughters boyfriend who risked his life to protect her during the quake. My son - who raced to help one person after another, from random strangers, to his friends. My sister who provided a safe haven right after the quake, and my other sister who is still providing one now. They all deserve a medal if you ask me.

What was my contribution? Erm. Well, I raised some of them. Other than that, mainly I cried a lot, panicked a LOT more, and screamed useful things like "She's not home! She's still on $#%#$ holiday!" in an almost incoherent state on my sisters answerphone (and she kept the tape. Yep.)

Anyways, we're all safe, sound and since the aftershocks are a little lighter, we might even get some sleep tonight. *touch wood* *obey every superstitious ritual I think of*.

Good night all. Kiss your kids, kiss your pets, and thank God for them all.

Earthquake

2010-09-03T11:20:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

We just suffered a 7.4 magnitude quake directly over our city, Christchurch. Living by the ocean, we evacuated. Because we're on the sand, part of our house slipped away and bits of it have fallen down. We couldn't see much because we were running while things fell.

We're all okay, dogs included, although we couldn't find our cats. We've evacuated out to my sister, Lisa's house out of town. She and her family are okay too.

We ran out in our pajamas with no power, no clothes, no money and no laptop. I'm not sure what will be there when we get home again. My son is okay, but I don't know where he is right now, he went to help a friend whose house sank into the ground and is submerged, it was on swampy ground.

The damage in our city appeared bad, apparently some houses have collapsed off the cliffs. There were cracks in the road, broken pipes everywhere. My God. I've never been through anything like that. Even if I have a home, I'm not going to return to it.

Sorry this is incoherent, we're in complete shock. I just pray everyone out there is okay. My love to you all, cuddle your loved ones.

Life is Beautiful

2010-09-02T19:33:00.000-07:00

It's days like this that remind me why I'm a writer and why I spend more time doing this than painting these days. Today, Ryder and I walked along the shore at high tide with huge waves pounding in, the wind driving vertical raindrops into our eyes. The Brighton Pier was a blur in the distance, and we had to step carefully to avoid wiping out on storm debris.

Truth be told, I'm absolutely terrified of the ocean. After all, things live in it. Things I can't see and that sometimes have teeth. Even so, I love the place. The wilder the day, the higher the waves, the less I can resist it.

Today, trudging through the heavy wet sand was hard enough we had to stop to rest a few times, but even the stopping was an experience.

A small group of mourners, all dressed in black, took a solemn walk over the sand dunes, each clinging to a brightly colored balloon. They scattered the ashes, stood quietly for a few moments before they released the balloons, and hurried back over the drenched dunes. Ryder seemed to understand the seriousness of the event* and crouched beside me to watch, ignoring the wet sea grass that slapped at our bodies. For awhile, the balloons bobbed around, bright spots of color in the driving rain, before they settled in the sand. It was as if they held vigil, guardians of a new soul. It brought tears to my eyes as I wrapped my arms around my sodden dog, and I thought about how wonderful it is to be alive.

Life is beautiful.

*He's scared of balloons -- long story.