Crannying: Finding the time to write

One of the questions I get asked the most is "Where do you find the time to write?" Usually after, "How much money have you made so far? Is that rude to ask? It is, isn't it? But seriously, how much?"


I find time because I cranny. To some friends, an after work drink starts at 9.30pm on a Monday night. Are you kidding me?! I am done by 9.30. I'm halfway to bed, and the other half of me is watching Frasier and drinking a chamomile tea. The movie starts at 8.30? Screw that, we're seeing the 7pm session, and we're eating beforehand.

It's friends who don't see me more than every fortnight or month or so who ask the finding-the-time question. Probably because the see me of an evening or weekend with a glass of wine in my hand, make-up on and in a dress. It's very difficult to be stressed or distracted with half a bottle of pinot noir or grigio sloshing through your veins.

If it's a birthday or engagement or I've got cabin fever, I'll stay out late. But most of the time I won't. I'll have an early night, and be up at 5am on a weekday, staggering to the kettle with a small black cat sitting on my shoulder.

My really close friends know I cranny. Cranny is a made up word. It's like a piking but piking not because you're lame (I hope) or a socially awkward penguin (I hope even more), but because you have to be up early. And of your own volition. Sometimes I get to drop that everso dramatic, self-important word, "deadline". But mostly I get up early because I want to."Want to" is a bit misleading though. I become irritable if I haven't written a few thousand words in a while. It's like withdrawal from a drug. I feel a high after a good writing session. I imagine it's because I've been writing regularly since the start of 2009. It's become a habit, and not one I feel the need to kick. (I did kick the boyfriend out this morning, though. Poor thing. We did lie in till 10.30am but there was no hand-holdy breakfast, no idle, "Oh what a lovely day, shall we go out?" conversation. Just me with a mad glint in my eye, edging towards the laptop.)

"Cranny" probably came from that commercial for cranberry juice that goes, "Where's the cranny, granny?" It doesn't make a lot of sense, but a dear friend made it up and it sounds suitably nanna-ish and sensible. And that's me making time for my writing really: nanna-ish and sensible. But I get sh%* done. (Not my tax returns though.)

Writers' arse? Try writers' back.

Voltaran. Ibuprofen. Muscle relaxants. Sling. Temazepan. Panadeine Forte. Ultrasounds. Ice. Naproxen. Cortisone injections. Anti-inflammatory gel. Tiger balm. Kenesio taping. Physiotherapy. Sports medicine. X-rays. Remedial massage. Chiropractor. Pilates. Massage.

These are all the treatments and medications I've used since I screwed up my shoulder in Greece last July. The technical term (though I like "screwed") is bursitis, which is a type of rotator cuff injury. It was due to bad posture exacerbated by dragging a suitcases on and off Greek islands.

It hurt a frackload. I cried in hotel rooms, alone. It was pathetic. I ignored "one to two tablets every four hours; do not exceed more than 6 in 24 hours" instructions on inadequate over-the-counter-medications. I could not lie flat on my back.

There were a few funny moments.  Like when I accidentally took a muscle relaxant (from the ER on Crete; at last some real drugs), a sleeping tablet and painkiller all at once one night. Visions of Heath Ledger and Marylin Monroe flashed through my head, along with the headline, "Soon-To-Be YA Novelist Dies Alone in Hotel Room of Presecription Drug Cocktail Overdose". I made myself a coffee and watched Greek news till I thought I was out of choking on my own vomit territory.

I had to sprint for the plane in Athens, and a thong [flip-flop] broke. The crappiest underwear ever threatened to fall down, and I couldn't pull them up with only one arm (busted one in a sling) and still hold onto my carry-on. I must have looked a total DINGBAT running through Athens airport barefoot and stopping every few metres to yank my knickers up. Would that I had worn shorts.

Somewhere over the Pacific my feet and ankles swell up to nearly twice their normal size. At this stage I haven't laid down flat on my back for a week and a half. Sleep happens in armchairs, air plane or ferry seats. Lymph drainage has all but ceased.


When I return home I see my GP, who takes me off the muscle relaxants and put me on Panadeine Forte. Two things: 1. Codeine, and 2. Wheeeeeeeeee. If you've had your wisdom teeth out you'll know what I mean. He also sends me for an ultrasound. The radiographer can find nothing wrong. The GP can find nothing wrong. More tears, and insistence that I'm not faking. Two weeks without having slept lying down.

A sports medicine doctor looks at my scans, takes me off everything except Epic Dose Voltaran and shoots me full of cortisone. (Literally. Straight into the shoulder, front and back. Motherfracking OW.) Third week of sleeping sitting up.

A week later I start remedial massage. I want to punch my physio in the face. She's incredibly sweet and apologetic. I hate her. I have the dubious pleasure of having one of the worst arms she's ever seen. All the muscles have either freezed up and feel like steel cables, or have shut down and withered to nothing. There's a hole where my trapezoid should be.

Finally, after a month of sleep in armchairs, I can lie down in a bed again. Much sleeping ensues.

I have gained back a lot of strength in my left arm. I can now lift a full bottle of red wine with my left hand and pour myself a glass. THANK GOD. IT'S THE IMPORTANT THINGS YOU MISS. My chiro has been fantastic. The x-rays were eye opening. My spine bends and curves in all these strange ways, probably due to being quite tall, growing fast as a teenager and a lot of waitressing in my early 20s.

I spend all my day at work at a computer, and a lot of my time at home on one too. All my energy is directed forward (at the keyboard) and my back is very weak. I slouch. I have uneven posture. My core "isn't engaged". It's getting better, but it's bloody hard to remember to work and tell your muscles how to behave all at once. I would also rather go home and write rather than go to pilates.

TL;DR?

SIT THE FRACK UP. UNCROSS THOSE LEGS. GO TO PILATES. SHOULDERS BACK. SUCK IN THAT GUT.

OR YOU WILL BE IN A WORLD OF PAIN.

Things I'm looking forward to in 2012: writing and otherwise

The release of Blood Storm in August
I can't wait for this! The editing (about to start), the cover (not begun yet, but I have an idea of what it's going to have on it!) the actual release ... It's going to be awesome. I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT.


Finishing three books
THAT'S RIGHT I'M GOING TO FINISH THREE BOOKS THIS YEAR. I've started them all and I know how they all finish. So now just to get them out of my head and onto the page. They are: Blood Queen (12K in people, and it's lookin' good so far. This one takes priority of course), a standalone UF set in Melbs (30K or so done. I heart the characters so much. I am just having a leeeeetle trouble seeing the climax. I know what should happen but not WHERE. I began this book in 2009. Time to bloody finish it, eh?), and the standalone scifi I began at the beginning of 2011 (30-ish-K done ... I can't remember exactly. That's bad right?? Whatevs. I love this book. Multi character view points. Stuff that makes me angry. Stuff that's hot. Stuff that makes me cry. It's going to rock.

I don't mind too much if neither of the standalones sell (but that is, of course, the intention), I just need to finish them. And then I will be WORKING ON COMPLICATED FANTASY WORLD IN WHICH TO SET SERIES AS WELL AS STANDALONES THAT MIGHT BE CAREER DEFINING. "Oh, you know Rhiannon Hart, right?" "She's the one who wrote the blah-blah books, yeah?" "YEAH. Don't they rock?" Which is like, uber exciting. And is one of the things I'm looking forward to REALLY starting in 2013. Over the next year it will be PERCOLATING.

Dressing properly this winter
Winter always sneaks the hell up on me and I'm not ready for it and I find myself wearing the same stupid acrylic jumpers that I've been wearing since uni. And I can't be arsed shopping because it's so cold and dark and there are couches and books at home. BUT THIS YEAR I WILL SHOP IN AUTUMN. THERE. I SAID IT. MAKE IT SO.

Learning to shoot a bow and arrow, riding a horse again
One of the two. Possibly both. They're expensive activities and I do need to save money for travelling. I have never shot stuff with a bow and arrow (unless you count the homemade bows of hibiscus and rubber bands my brother and I made as kids...which were AWESOME) and I haven't been on a horse since high school. I took lessons. I wasn't too bad and it was fun.

Being a bitch-arse public speaker
Currently I am a fraidy public speaker. I am determined to do all my speaking ad-lib, though, as I really dislike hearing the stilted voice of someone who's reading from notes. So far so good. (i.e. not dead yet.)

Visiting south east Asia for the first time as a sentient adult
HOLIDAY! I have book three weeks in Thailand and Cambodia from the end of May. It's cheap and cheerful and I'm just going to relax. I'm meeting up with one friend in Thailand and we're going to the islands and generally just chilling. Then I'm visiting an ex-pat friend in Phnom Penh who's just had a wee babby. (I went to Borneo when I was 2 or so, but don't remember much except I was sick. Some lung thing I got in Australia.

Getting my British Passport
OH YES THIS IS THE YEAR. <-------Been saying since I was 18. Shuddup.

Op-shopping
This ties in with not spending a lot of money and dressing properly for winter. It will cut into my Saturday morning writing time, but it needs to be done. Also: will help me in cultivating the slightly mad frizzy-headed author look that will undoubtedly catch up to me by the time I'm 37.

My first short story published in an anthology
I'll have title and release dates for this project shortly! It's a ghost novel written in 12 short interconnected stories by four Melbourne writers. Worldwide release. We're about to start editing and I'm so excited!

So this is sort of a New Year's Resolution list but not really. Resolutions are hard and painful. It's a list of things I'm going to ENJOY. YEAH! Bring on 2012!

The New House. Or, where to write?

I have moved. The past tense is rarely so sweet as when you have moved house. It is DONE. I have moved at least nine times in the last nine years. I have crossed the river so many times that I expected alarms to go off this time around. Inner Melbourne suburbs are divided by the Yarra River. There's the arty north, stuffed full of uni students, artists and veteran op-shoppers. Then there's the trendy, beachy south, populated by the tiny dog set. And never the twain shall meet.

The kitchen viewed from the living room. That's a six-burner hob. My brother practically swooned.

I have moved in with my brother and his girlfriend. We found a gorgeous renovated 1930s house with three bedrooms, a huge living area and open plan kitchen, two bathrooms and a deck. Hopefully that's enough space that we don't get in one another's hair. I haven't lived with my brother in ten years. Last time there was a lot of screaming. We've both mellowed since then. We're still as competitive as hell though. Over board games especially. Yesterday it was Scrabble and goddamn it if he was going to beat me at a word game. It was close, though. His girlfriend, who was also playing, remarked to him, "You play better when you're trying to beat your sister." My reply? "OH REALLY? SO MY MERE PRESENCE IS ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU BETTER! MUA HA HA HA HA."

But the question is, where to write? In my flat I wrote at my dining room table. There just wasn't room in my bedroom. And besides, won't it start feeling like homework if I do it in my room? The last few days I've been writing in the study ... but it's a little cramped in there. When the weather turns chilly I might not have any choice but to write in the dining room as the ducted heating hasn't been installed yet and that's where the reverse cycle is. (All hail air-conditioning. I may only use it for a few days a year, but goddamn, I need it those few days. I detest being too hot or too cold.)

My bedroom, which is the biggest in the house as it hasn't been cut by an en suite. Love the original fireplace, even if it's only decorative.

The livingroom won't be any good, though, when people are up and about, talking and breathing and generally just being distracting. There's a hell of a lot of space in my bedroom, so perhaps I should install a desk and just suck it up if it starts to feel like homework?

Where do you write? Are you precious about it?

Ideas and their execution

I am coming to see that there are two main skills a writer can and should have: the ability to generate exciting and plausible ideas, and the ability to execute them. This is hardly a world-shaking revelation on my part. In fact it's rather obvious. But it is a new way of looking at things for myself so I thought I would share it with you.

While reviewing books I have noticed that some writers can take a ripper of an idea and then run it into the ground with atrocious writing. Conversely, a startlingly obvious or unoriginal idea can be elevated to brilliance by its execution. I need hardly give examples--you'll undoubtedly be thinking of your own while reading this. (OK, I'll give one example: this is the second time this week I shall espouse Bill Bryson but I am currently listening to his biography of William Shakespeare in which he writes eloquently, brilliantly and humorously about how we know diddly-squat about the world's most famous poet. This would undoubtedly turn into a cold fish of a book in the hands of a lesser writer.)

For the last few years while working earnestly on becoming published I have spent much time on technique: the sound and structure of a good sentence, grammar, vocabulary and punctuation. I'm rather pleased with the result though I hope for greater improvement in the future. I fear this may mean I will have to start reading and appreciating poetry, as I have heard from several quarters how reading poetry can improve your writing. For some reason I dread the prospect. Poets are so miserly with words, and gosh, how they make you concentrate!

I have read books on setting and character and dialogue and taken much of this into consideration. But the one thing there seems to be a dearth of in the literature of how to be a good, or even great, writer is how to generate ideas. Perhaps this is because there is no way to instruct someone on how have one. So-called writing exercises provide ideas and then ask you to run with them: these are exercises in execution, not idea generation. Stephen King in his wonderful book On Writing instructs the reader how to go about uncovering a plot once the initial idea has been had, but not how to have the idea in the first place.

I have never had an idea for a story out of the blue. They have always arrived in my head after I have said to myself, "Right, for the next five minutes you are going to think of a story idea. Go." And I don't do this very often because gosh, it's hard. I'm not talking about the ideas for the second or third book in a series, mind you. Those are easier as the initial spark has been had and I am building on an existing world and characters etc. But an honest-to-god new story. And when I do think of an idea it's almost always the very beginning of a story and would only cover the first third of a book, or as much as you would read in a blurb. Having a whole idea, including the ending of the story, is elusive to the point of major frustration.

The only course of action, I have decided, is to practice having ideas. GOOD ideas. I am going to tell myself more often, perhaps even once a day, to think of an idea. It seems counter-intuitive, doesn't it, ordering yourself to be creative? But I have little to lose and much to gain, so it is worth a try. I shall inform you of my progress.

Which do you struggle with more, the creation of ideas, or their execution?

Books are like boyfriends...

You always love the one you're with now the most.

I can't remember which writer said that, but she's spot on. She was referring to her own books, the ones she writes. She possibly said it on Twitter, proving that profound, life-changing statements are uttered on twitter.

I have been struggling with a standalone novel for months and, like my last, ill-fated, short-lived relationship, I am wondering where the honeymoon period went. It's not supposed to be this hard this early, right? I'm only a third of a way through the manuscript and I can't seem to regain that initial excitement I felt when I was first inspired to write the story.

I think the problem is...I'm still in love with my last "boyfriend". (That SO wasn't the case with my last relationship, but the way. Though I may have been, um, rebounding like crazy. Not something I'm proud of at all, but older and wiser now, no?) The last "boyfriend" being Lharmell. Oh how I love thee and thy two sequels!

I have been wavering over whether I should just drop the standalone and focus on books two and three of Lharmell, or keep working on the two projects simultaneously and see what happens.

Can you two-time a writing project like this? I am in an agony of indecision!

How do you make decisions like these? Do you go with your gut? Do you never EVER start a new project til the last one is completely out of you system, or do you have so many WIPs you could fill a library if only you had the time to write them all?

The book that happened when I was doing other things

When I was twelve I started keeping diaries. This coincided, curiously enough, with the time I discovered boys. I have not read over these diaries, not even once, but I know they are filled with longings for this crush or that one. At times the thought of what is in these diaries has made me cringe and I've nearly thrown them out on several occasions. I'm exceedingly glad I didn't. They came in handy just the other week. I was talking to someone with whom I had a brief entanglement with five years ago and we were reminiscing about our week together. We quibbled over one detail and I ran to get that year's diary--and there it was. We had run into one another at that particular restaurant. And then we had a good laugh as I read him passages down the web cam, him on a sunny New York morning and me in the cold hours past midnight.

I don't keep personal diaries anymore. I have writing diaries instead. Though the line between the two has blurred this year. I'm introducing more of the personal side again, and I like that. (Yep, that does include talking about boys!)

Today marks a momentous occasion for me. The start of a new writing diary. The old one has been with me since February 2009 and I'm very attached to it. It contains all my noted from YA writing class; the scrap of paper that marked the first jolt of inspiration for Lharmell; plotting epiphanies for the trilogy; all the anguish and despair and joy of querying; the exaltation and celebration of various milestones; word counts. It contains love letters and longings. Scraps of memories from my childhood that, though happy, were strangely painful to recall.

It is the stuff of my life--a fat purple notebook, and it is full. So I guess I wrote a book. But this one will never see the light of day beyond my small and infrequent consultations.

Do you keep a writing diary? What do you put in it?

Spread thin. Like Vegemite.

Only two more books to read and review before I can dive back into my "just for fun" reading pile. I don't have a great deal of time for it these days, what with deadlines, editing work and my own novel! Hence being spread thin like Vegemite...

The Carbon Diaries 2015 has been on my sidebar for about two weeks now, Poison Study by Maria V. Snyder is due back at the library after three renewals and I still haven't started the Mortal Instruments series. Noooooo!

I've cleared my plans for the next week and am hugging myself with joy at the prospect. Tonight I'm going to sip vodka cranberries in pink-rubber-gloved hands and bleach-speckled leggings and get down and dirty with housework and The Ministry Annual 2009. Then finish off Riding the Black Cockatoo (John Donalis) and start the review for Magpies. Tomorrow is devoted to reinstalling Windows and Microsoft Word as it's gone mental. This is seriously affecting my ability to work on my novel. The bf's best mate Pete is a computer whizz and he's going to help me nurse the damn-silly hunk of microchips back to health.

Then it's write write write! Thank goodness for the recession and getting my hours cut at work. Otherwise I might never find out what all the fuss is about Jace.

A "Good on Paper" Writer

A "good on paper" writer is someone who can put beautifully crafted prose on a page, right? Wrong.

I am not (yet) a "good on paper" writer--I'm talking about the bane of all emerging writers: the author CV. Woebegone is the writer who has nothing, or nearly nothing, to sell herself with. As I'm putting together query letters right now it's near the top of my list to fix this sorry situation, stat!

For years I've struggled with even where to start. Firstly, I HATE short stories. I hate reading them and I loath trying to write them. I detest investing in characters or a voice only to find that it's all over and done with in a few thousand words. (Which is also why I hate lengthy or--even worse--MULTIPLE prologues. Reinvesting in a story/new character drives me bonkers as I'm a far from patient girl.) I have written only one short story that I am pleased with, but judges continually overlook it so I guess my lack of enthusiasm for the genre (?) shows.

So that's short story competitions and anthologies out.

Then there's freelance journalism. I've tried that too but generating exciting topics and pitching them at a jaded editor is not my idea of an afternoon of fun. I also go off on tangents when I try to write features, or put too much of myself in (hallelujah for blogging, cos it's all ME ME ME!) and newspapers don't like that.

I did get a letter to the editor published in the Age once. Did I milk that! "Ooh yes darlings, published in the Age..."

I'm certainly NOT a poet, either. I've read about three poems in my life and they make me roll my eyes. Or bawl. And poets are so miserly with words. Say it with sentences, people!

I was beginning to think that I was going to have nada to augment my CV with until my YA teacher mentioned that Viewpoint magazine is always looking for YA reviewers, and I realised that hey, I do that already! And what do you know, I have four reviews coming next month, in three different magazines, one of which I actually get PAID for. Sweet Jesus I've hit the jackpot! How swanky will that look on my CV?

How about you--is your CV brimming with credentials, or frustratingly bare? And if it is brimming, how did you get started?

To do list. And a Lolcat so things don't get too serious.

I just wrote a few thousand words of The Harmings so I thought I'd reward myself with a Lolcat, hehe. Here he is!


Bad, impatient kitty. Now, down to business...

The following is a list of things that have to be done before I send Lharmell off to agents.

The current draft needs some tweaking. After plenty of voddies at Sentido funf, or whatever the silly place is called (the bar is fun, but what a name! Worse than Cas Retops around the corner. And how much are Smith and Gertrude streets the new Brunswick Street? You can't walk on the pavement for all the drunk people!) I extracted some good criticisms from Mike. I also have Stephen and Tam's marked up manuscripts to look over. Fingers crossed that Clare, my YA teacher, will hand me back my MS tomorrow too.

Tam also said she had some ideas for my synopsis of Lharmell, too, to stop it being so "and then and then and then". I can't decide which is harder to write, the opening of the book or the damned synopsis!! It's certainly a close one.

I have scrappy outlines of The Harmings and Queen of Lharmell (books two and three) but they certainly wouldn't be fit to grace an agents desktop. They'll need to be fleshed out and polished before any letters are sent, in case of request.

As much of The Harmings should be completed and polished too. It's going to be difficult to prove to agents and editors that an unpublished author has the skill and motivation to finish a trilogy, so having as much done as possible will work in my favour.

Then there's the letters to the agents themselves. Nathan Bransford's blog has lots of great tips, and Kristen Nelson's. I have a rough draft of a query letter down somewhere but this will have to be polished too. I tells ya, sometimes I feel like a maid, not a writer with all this polishing going on!

That's it for now. Coffee time. Wordcount: 17,508. When I hit 20,000 I'm going to print it off and deluge it with red pen.

Stuff you, Aslan, I'm going back to Narnia

Book Two wordcount: 14,354 words. So you see, I got started without you.

This blog will document my attempt to get my YA paranormal romance trilogy published. I love YA. I stopped reading it when I left home at seventeen, thinking it was now time to put my toys away and move onto the big bag world of adult literarure. But STUFF YOU ASLAN! I'm going back to Narnia!

This year I'm completing my last unit of a Diploma of Arts at Melbourne's fabulous RMIT. The unit is Writing for Young Adults. And it's wonderful fun. Everyone is in their mid-to-late twenties or older, so it seems a lot of people are going back to Narnia!

I have to go op-shopping now and see my friend's new art deco apartment, and also get a big coffee. Too many vodkas on Gertrude St last night.