January 2017 Archive

Tonight, the ¬†prickly pear of resentment propelled me to the surface of sleep at 2am. ¬†“Crap”, I sigh but here I go wandering down the hallway in search of words and the muse. Who kind of looks like Nicki Minaj because I cannot get “That Song”, out of my mind. Fuck what a cool muse though right? Right? Imagine meeting up with other writers. “Ah yes I say”. My muse is a strong black woman. Beat that suckers!

Where was I ?

Ah yes.

“How Do You know you’re a writer?

Did I mention I was a lush? A good portion of my life was spent non-practicing. To give my babies the best start in life. Gradually the wine crept back inn. ¬†after ¬†settling my breastfeeding babes I’d indulge in a book and a glass of wine. I’m not sure what that’s got to do with writing but it’s all part of it. Reading is an important part of the writing process.

As a gangly teenager whose knees would show, ¬†I’d devour Shakespeare in our English classes. Meticulously unpick the copulets. I know it’s coplets. But my favorite Shakespearean tales are about fucking and revenge and at the end of the day it’s all begatting and begetting. Copulating; hence couplets. ¬†Character based thrillers that pit father against son, family against family. If I had to choose any of the Shakespearean classics as a parallel to my life, it would be the Taming of the Shrew. In fact there was that time in 10th Grade where my first boyfriend admitted to me he thought it was my sister he was asking out.”

I’ll get my revenge on paper.

You’re right, the other classmates would die in a ditch before reading Shakespeare voluntarily. I’d do my sisters and her friends essays then pocket a dozen beer in return.

My first character in my minds eye in my minds eye came to me driving down our freeway the I680. I swerved and realised I wasn’t going to hit anyone ¬†“Eliza Cruickshank”.
The moniker came to me unbidden.

My son, the second son and younger brother of brother of Brutus (his older brother was born on the Ides of March (March 15th) the day Brutus stabbed Caesar)is very creative. He came up with another. “Hey Mom, you should write about a character called Alex Slicer.”

I developed a storyline.

I’ll stop there. After outlining how the creative process has developed for me, (hope that helps someone out there. (No I don’t really) I have pull out my manuscripts and carry on. It’s just time and coffee that’s all it is.

It’s not a bad job description.

“Writer procrastinator; Creator of souls”.

And Housewife.

 

A great coffee machine for the home barista!

 

 

 

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Background

I started the blog. This one. It’s a keeper. Last one was awesome too.

I started a book. It was the story of “Destiny meets: “Hmm (thinking of a pseudo. Lets call me Monique. I’ll probably switch in and out of I We and and Monique because she’s mad in the head. There’s other personalities in there too.

Monique gets really excited because it’s so much fucking fun to start a venture but not much follow through in that one. I’ll write and make money. Perfect.

Stick with me.

How the fuck do you know you’re a writer unless other people tell you you are. “That puzzled me for years. (I’ll work out how to add a cuss warning but not just yet.) Having too much fun here.

There were warning signs in my path. I got second place in a writing competition Stratford. New Zealand.
Stratford on Patea  Best Fish and Chips. A New Zealand thing.

Note: And you knew right at that moment I wrote that I suddenly thought. I’m Channelling Shakespeare. (Because I’m egotistical and arrogant. Defn. (Like to produce great works without effort ) Somebody said I was channelling Rick Astley on a Political Blog the other night. I was so proud. Totally Toasted and having a great time.

Did a Journalism course. At Massey University New Zealand. Answer should be perfectly clear by now. I’m gettin’ along in getting meself a wee career in writing. Duh. I Like to write. But I’m a lazy arrogant lush at the age of 25 to be perfectly honest. I have to get more life experience.
It never occurred to me to get me in a writing school. But they can go get wrecked because the world has moved on and selling yourself is more important. Trump is in charge and he’s the master salesperson. Must try channel him.

Oh yeah. Got myself into family mode and had babies. And I was a goody good until I had a stroke and the ideas just flew when near a keyboard. Probably the brain damage. That’s how I knew I was a writer and destined to write crap and dream big.

So recently I realised the writings not happening.¬†“What could it be I think?

Guess ūüôā

I have to get some fucking discipline because loving writing is not enough. Passion is awesome. Passion got me out of bed at 3am in the morning because dogs were barking and I have a dog that knows me more than I know myself.

So I’m sitting here in a black dress with my mad brain because it’s better than being in bed with it knowing you have committed to write a book and document the path in 2017 in an effort to explore the process. As higher spiritual goal.

Commando.

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Pain. To be human is to suffer. I have definitely suffered. Ostensibly; by all accounts, more than my fair share! And unremarkably, as I am sitting up this cold and late hour in California, I am currently suffering with a sore throat and even worse,
Cold Tootsies!
Today I am suffering a Mere, Bog Standard cold that caused me to suddenly jerk awake, mid snore, and demand of my husband:
(Big D!) “What time did we go to sleep?”
“Fuck!”
Was I snoring”?
“Fuck!”

I know!
Horrid! Right?

But this is the kind of pain you can easily be distracted from.
I promptly jumped out of bed and thought:
“What are the actual odds the internet is actually, down, due to stupid, ¬†inflammatory tweets by Trump?
What are the actual fucking Chances?!
I’m not sure that proverbial Chuckhead, Alec¬†Baldwin is adding anything to the debate!
But what the everloving fuck is he broadcasting?
? And what exactly does this scenario reminds us of? Oh yeah, right!
“Seriously!”

“You can’t polish a Turd”: All you can do is roll it in Glitter!”

I actually love that Trump is the President Elect.
And I love that I live in California! I love it! It’s like waking up from the totally insufferable 1980’s to find yourself living life on the fucking Titanic!
With no fucking Deckchairs! ūüôā

BTW, The 1980’s sucked,
Trust me!
All except for (David Lange who I saw speak, live, a number of times!)
(That would be the New Zealand; ultra-cool dude David Lange!
I Can Smell The uranium on your Breath!
I’m telling you folks!. There’s an Air New Zealand Boeing full of people in America, whom I talk to on a regular basis. All of which would love to move to Canada or New Zealand in a sneeze!

It could happen, right?
Arguably, New Zealand is a way sexier destination than Canada!

Fucking Miscellany!

!! Not once do I ever jump out of bed thinking:
“Fuck!” Fucking Fuck!
| I better finish the book I started two years ago!!!!!
Or, even with any with impetus to  go update my Linked In profile; as a profoundly experienced Bookkeeper or Software Tester!
Hell No! I wake for non-productive stuff Only!
So, anyway, two nights ago my son Axel,
(The Spare), As in: An Heir and a Spare.
There’s a few, in these parts (and yes I have five kids!) So anyway, Son two : Axel, and I were both up in the middle of the night. Not due to a stupid cold.
I was over-zealous, and in hyped up partying mode following New Years! So we were both hyper and awake. We quickly discovered our internet was zonked.
Was I a sensible Mom? Suggesting that all was most likely well, and just maybe the rain had temporarily knocked the internet over! No!
I suggested the internet was down!  And Russia was to blame! And of course, Son two (Axel) was thrilled. Indeed!
Four hours later,we were were both back in bed after being unable to rouse anyone over the age of twelve to convince them that, yes Trump had definitely screwed Shit up Royally for good this time!
And Ruined the party for Everyone!
As it happened! Son two and I  did have the kind of fun for several hours from 2.00am to 5.30am. The kind of fun reserved for mainly those with a blanket and chairs and the inclination to play huts without distraction. A good mom and son bonding time.

Back to the subject of pain. If you are reading this and are experiencing pain in any form you have my sincerest wishes.

It will pass. It just will!

Pain. There was the time I had my second child by cesarean section.
The first time was fucking magic. A spinal block and boom! bam! I was numb from the Tits down. The single worst side effect was the itchy nose. A not very often documented side effect of morphine!

The second child, I had a planned c-section with an epidural. As opposed to a one shot stop with a spinal block. The operation was fine but I was screaming for pain relief in the hours following.

That pregnancy was rather fraught. I’d had a stroke at eighteen weeks.

As in! One day I woke. Got on with stuff. After all, I had a toddler. He was my everything. That and the baby in my tummy. And my husband (Big D)
And when the pain hit. I was initially stoic. Thought it was a pregnancy headache.

Hubby (Big D) convinced me to go to the doctor to get it checked. I wasn’t one mile down the road when then I very prettily vomited all over myself. When; totally alarmed, I then tried to open the car door, my arm wouldn’t work!

Pain. I was totally consumed. Naturally! My head was bleeding badly due to an intracerebral hemorrhage.  An axe to the head is not a bad analogy.

Hubby (Big D) called the First Response team. My last memory following this, was of being carried inside our first house in Wellington, in pain. I said to him: And this was my last memory: “I think I’m dying!”

Giving that my neurosurgeon didn’t think I’d survive, and hubby (Big D) might have to man up to being a solo Dad,
I was pretty pissy when I awoke. A mere two hours past the nine hours surgery where I’d undergone a craniotomy. ¬†That’s the operation where surgeons drill into your head. The surgeons take a bone flap and lay it open on the rest of your skull.
I’m not linking to that. It’s gross shit ūüôā
I’ve heard that the neurosurgeon kind of doesn’t know if they’re sucking out actual brain or a blood clot! All it is, on the day is a best guess!

I’ve got syntax and grammer ūüôā intact so he must have been one of the best ūüôā

Next memory: He comes to check on me and the pain signals. Which were immense. I was blocking them out. My comment: “The ¬†head is fine but the ¬†fucking constipation is killing me!”

His comment to my Mom: “She sure swears a lot”!

Enough said.

Take care. I suffered more when my son suffered Shingles at the age of ten.

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