Back to the writing board
Publisher A hasn’t replied yet (the ones who may or may not be sick of me), but Publisher B (“Stormhunter” and “Monster Apprentice”) has. I expected them to say, “Oh dear, has it been that long? We’ll get right on to that!” (lies, all lies) but they went one further and said, “We’re really busy at the moment with this sales thing.”
So. . . nothing will be happening for at least another month or three.
In the meantime, I have two adult students who need huge amounts of help at the moment, so I’m working a LOT. The good thing is that they finish in a matter of weeks, so this is a crisis rather than a regular thing (I generally handle crisis far better than everyday stress). The bad thing is that when I work a lot, I tend to crash my car or make other serious life errors.
Last week, every hour was torture, and I cried a lot. This week my brain chemicals have done me a favour and gone manic – just in time for the heaviest week of all. Since I only go mildly manic, it’s a reasonably good way to cope with life (particularly since I always observe myself carefully and predict when the crash will happen – I’m betting on Friday). The worst part is not being able to get to sleep (too busy buzzing about things to do), not being able to focus on what I’m doing (always focused on the next thing, and the next thing), and of course the high risk of injury to myself/others, or suddenly plunging into uncontrollable violence, swearing, or crying.
Normally my work limit in a day is three hours with students (I quite often push to four by not doing anything else that day, by having breaks, by having two hours in one location, or by having a student at my house). Yesterday I had over seven hours with students. If you add an hour of writing, half an hour of exercise, and all the driving between students, I worked for eleven hours. Because of being manic, I handled it fine. Today I have six hours of tutoring (plus exercise, writing, and driving), and I think I can stay manic enough to handle it. Tomorrow’s just three hours, so I should be tired but okay. And Friday I don’t have students, but do have a birthday party to go to. But on Friday I’m allowed chocolate again (I’m going three days without any junk food of any kind – today is day two), so I’ll have something to lean on if things get bad.
As with many mental illnesses, someone who is manic is able to think rationally (logic just feels utterly incorrect). Other than the creeping dread of the consequences, I really enjoy being manic – it’s deeply satisfying to be able to do a full day’s work for once. It’s a whole lot like being a normal person for a while.
#3: Go mad in a lolly shop
You’ve gotta love the SERIOUS lolly shop. I don’t mean the confectionary aisle of the supermarket (treasure trove of wonders, yes – but still not the same thing). I mean THE lolly shop. The one with peculiar feasts from distant lands, and with lollies you’ve never heard of before. And with strange items in jars and an entire huge table brimming with tiny clear-plastic bags of utterly sinful mystery.
The lolly shop I chose for today’s awesomeness was the one (I can never remember the name) in Gold Creek, Gungahlin, Canberra, Australia. After getting lost and asking directions (as I do every single time) I found the shop and wandered, drooling, until I eventually made my choices.
The skittles were a different colour inside than out. I had meant to ascertain, for journalistic reasons, whether they were always the same combination (such as blue on the outside, pink on the inside) but, although I tested them extensively, I did so mainly while in my car, driving, at night. As a result, although I have memories of biting them in half and looking inside, I was unable to remember from one skittle to the next whether the internal colouring was consistent or not. (This lack of fact-finding journalism is why my blog hasn’t yet been picked up by any major newspapers.)
As always, I thoroughly enjoyed the jelly belly jelly beans (my favourite flavours are toasted marshmallow and buttered popcorn).
The flying saucers were startlingly sour.
And then there was this. . .
It was $4.20, and I really bit off more than I could chew with that one. In fact, I couldn’t bite it at all. This is after three hours:
After five hours, I was thrilled to be able to fit it in my mouth – just.
It took SEVEN HOURS to eat. My tongue hurt, my cheeks hurt, and my jaw hurt.
Don’t do gobstoppers, kids.
Play along at home: Eat a $4.20 gobstopper (if you’re an IDIOT, like me). Or just some kind of unique candy. Mmm.
And now. . . the reverse burglary locations revealed. Go back to the photo above. See that big stick thing? I pushed that between the cushions of your couch (nice couch, by the way). The jar of hard lollies in the background is inside your TV cabinet.
Let me know when you’ve found them!
#148: Nerf Duel
Ben suggested I conduct a nerf duel, using historical rules of combat. But historical rules are always either:
a) stuffy (like, I’d need to be a nobleman, which would require quite a bit of lifestyle change).
b) bloody (and it’s REAL hard to draw blood with a nerf gun).
Nevertheless, I got me some guns, some ammo, and the following fierce opponent (here photographed expertly loading his gun):
We lined ourselves up in the square, ready for battle.
And pow! Bang! Arg!
Until the inevitable end.
Not satisfied with having killed the narrator, the deadly gun-toting four year old turned on his Uncle CJ:
Naturally, since I’m now dead I don’t know the outcome of the second duel. I have just one comment – Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?
Look at those deadly eyes!
Coming soon: The reverse burglary victim revealed!
Secret # 6 (hopefully)
Go mad in a lolly shop (Mmmmm)
Eat Yum Cha (Mmmmm)
Three days without any junk food whatsoever (arg, the pain!!)
And a surprise or two
Today’s reverse burglary clue: My burglary did NOT take place on the day I posted it. So if you’ve been thinking, “I was home that day – I know for certain it wasn’t me!” then – guess again.
I know at least three tortured souls have been scouring their homes for candy, so I plan to actually reveal the location of the lollies. . . tomorrow.
In other news, my fish appear absolutely fine thus far, except there is white fuzz growing on the heater (I’ve cleaned it once with a toothbrush and boiling water, and I’ll clean it again) probably as a result of the first plant dying. I plan to buy one of those “I clean your tank” fish, hopefully today.
A time to write
It’s time to make up consistent fake names for my publishers.
Publisher A: I have three direct contacts with them, and so far they’ve let me email them any full manuscript I want (after I email to ask). Since “Farting my ABCs” was rejected, I emailed them asking if they’d like to see it. That was last Thursday, and they haven’t replied yet. Last time I sent them a book (which I received back over a year ago) they hinted that they didn’t have time to continue reading my nearly-but-not-quite-good-enough books. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what they were saying.
Publisher B: I have two direct contacts with them, and they currently have “Stormhunter” and “The Monster Apprentice” (ie the first books in my YA and childrens’ Rahana trilogies), the first of which they’ve had over a year. I emailed them this today: “I’m just dropping by for my three-monthly check that things are still progressing with “Stormhunter” and/or “The Monster Apprentice”. I hope you’re well and enjoying the great weather.” If they reject those two, they may not be willing to look at any others. If they accept them, they’ll probably accept the four other books in the two trilogies. Exciting stuff.
Publisher C: The one I originally sent “Farting My ABCs”. They generally take six months to reply, but they do generally request the full manuscript.
Publisher D: They generally request the full manuscript.
Publisher E: Has had the first three chapters of “Waking Dead Mountain” for five months – presumably a good sign for the book, and a bad sign for how long I’ll have to wait if they do request the full manuscript.
So, in conclusion: I’m waiting for Publisher A to let me know if they still like me, and for Publisher B to finally tell me if everything is about to change (or not). And waiting for Publisher E, but not holding my breath.
Happy Sunday
To all of you – men, women, mothers, fathers, people of indeterminate or unique gender, and children —
May your Sunday be like this:
S#65: Personal Manifesto
Steff Metal (of the infamously awesome list) wrote:
65. Write a Personal Manifesto
Who are you really? What are you about? What makes you tick? What morals and beliefs do you follow?
Write yourself a personal manifesto – who you are, who you want to be and how you’re gonna get there.
I’ve been looking forward to this entry. Then I saw a post by Donald Miller (http://donmilleris.com/) about seeing your life as a story (rather than a Dilbert-esque mission statement) and, as a storyteller, I LOVED it. So here’s the blurb on the back of the unfolding movie of my life (remember to get breathless as you reach the end):
A burnt-out missionary writes young adult books featuring true heroes – the kind that readers can look up to. She hangs on the edge of major publication for years as her mental illness worsens. Will she achieve her own dreams before her illness swallows her last heroic spark of hope?
(The answer, of course, is yes.)
And in the meantime, I live a heroic life every day, and inspire others through my blog of Daily Awesomeness. And of course I keep writing (I forgot to mention during “Try, try again” that my novels have been rejected sixty-eight times – about twelve of which were by a very narrow margin. A perverse part of me hopes to reach a hundred before I get accepted.)
Play along at home: Write your own storyline with a main character (that’s you), a crucial problem to overcome (what do you want most?), and what’s at stake for you. Think Hollywood, baby! It’s adjective time at last!
If you’re brave enough, post the results here.
Incidentally, happy mothers day to all my lady readers. Goodness knows we all mother our menfolk every day. A special shout-out to my pregnant sister. If your partner hasn’t bought you chocolate (or perhaps pickles and ice cream), he is a cad. Go buy your own.
Oh! Sorry I forgot to give a reverse burglary clue yesterday. Here’s two:
1. My victim was not a student of mine.
2. When I “broke in” I walked through the front door.
#118: Collage of Awesomeness
This is an idea from lovechelsealauren.blogspot.com (thanks Chelsea!)
I’m rubbish at collages (virtual or otherwise) but I quite enjoyed suddenly having a visual representation of some of my best awesome moments from the last little while. So here it is!
The links to the relevant blog entries are:
Vote “yes” for Global Warming
I’m allergic to Winter. Specifically, I’m allergic to clothing. All of it. Wearing sunglasses makes me feel trapped. My very-comfy pajama top is giving me rashes simply by existing near my skin. Socks either fall off my feet or cut off my circulation. And then there’s my cold hands and feet due to poor circulation. And of course bills, which hurt a lot when I don’t even earn enough to cover rent.
So let’s band together and either make the Earth wamer or move Canberra to the tropics. Personally, I don’t mind which. I’m not fussy.
#123: Edit a steampunk novel
Editing a novel is a mammoth task, and as a result it’s very satisfying to get to the end. I was lucky enough to edit a young adult steampunk novel which was well written and entertaining, so it therefore qualifies as today’s Daily Awesomeness. Here’s a steampunkish picture to give you a little hint of the place I’ve visited for so many hours this week:
This picture was taken from http://ageofsteam.wordpress.com.
Oh! And speaking of steampunk, Richard Harland recently wrote a post on how it’s done. http://ripping-ozzie-reads.com/2010/04/30/tips-for-writing-steampunk/
Play along at home: If you’re a writerly type, you can both give and receive helpful editing at sites like this one: http://editorunleashed.com/forum/
Tomorrow: A collage of awesomeness. Secret # 6 is having further issues, so may take another week or two – sorry. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.
And now, as always on a Friday, here’s the current twittertale so far:
AND THEN I WOKE UP
5
I woke with my face in concrete. Wet concrete. Not concrete – meat. Meat and blood, and it was in my MOUTH! Yuck! I sat up, spitting.
Then I saw the bodies all around me. No-one else was waking up, like I had. But a few others, like me, had blood dripping down their chins.
Wasn’t I just in maths class? I shook my head, trying not to scream. Hysteria took over, and I said aloud, “Please, not the maths!”
6
I sheltered overnight in an abandoned apartment. The homiest part was the curtains (burnt) but I found an unopened tin of baked beans.
Evidently even apocalypse survivors don’t eat baked beans. Also there was no can opener. I began to understand my own cannibalism.
My body was different, too – not just thinner. With a mirror, I discovered I was now in my twenties. What!?! Did I go to the prom or not?
7
I watched through burnt curtains as a group of people walked slowly down the street. They walked upright, and they weren’t as thin as me.
My belly rumbled, so I broke a two by four off the bed for a weapon, and went downstairs to follow the tall ones.
#132: Try, try again
Awesomeness isn’t awesomeness without a risk. That means that sometimes I’m going to fail – and if I’m brave enough, I’ll fail badly.
Remember when I bought fish? https://shootingthrough.net/2010/04/01/s78-adopt-a-pet/
I mentioned several times after the above entry that I hadn’t killed the fish. It turned out I’d spoken too soon. All but one of those fish died within two weeks. Most of them passed away on one day, and it was torture to watch them all slowly die.
I still feel horrible that my ignorance caused all that, but I decided to overcome the trauma the best way I know how: by giving myself a more positive experience of the fish-keeping experience. CJ suggested that I should blog about it here – he said that overcoming failure was definitely awesome in itself.
The fish died over three weeks ago, and I’ve spent that time learning more about how to care for them better. I now have a heater, a filter, a light, a plant, and four different types of water-treating substance (plus the ph test kit I had last time). One of them, Gandalf the fighting fish, lived.
The plant died horribly, which wasn’t the most heartening event ever (oh, and I also broke the original tank while cleaning it – the second fish tank I’ve broken in this cursed voyage). I had samples of my fish water tested at the Belconnen Markets pet store (which I recommend, having been given consistent advice between Belconnen Markets staff). The water was fine, but they said it’s an oversensitive plant and recommended another type, which I bought. Neon tetras like places to hide, so I also bought a plastic hollow-log-with-holes-in-it in case this plant died too. Here’s the remains of the first plant getting stuck in the filter like green fur:
I decided not to get danios this time – they terrorise the other fish.
So today I finally bought five more neon tetras. I know that they often go into shock and die within a week of purchase, so I have their bag sitting inside the tank (with Gandalf, the fighting fish, nosing at the plastic). Each hour I add one dessert spoon of the tank water to their bag, so they can adjust gradually to their new environment.
I’ll report back and let you know how they go.
Oh! And I almost forgot. Last year I wrote and edited a book called “Farting my ABCs”, with a specific publisher in mind. That publisher just replied with their response to the book (that I sent them more than eight months ago – and it’s only 7000 words long) with a no. That’s unfortunate. But I have a contact at another publisher, so I’ll edit “Farting My ABCs” and send it to them the instant I’m happy with it (which can’t possibly be long, since it’s such a stellar example of my literary prowess).
PS: Today’s clue on who is the victim of reverse burglary – it wasn’t Steff Metal either (she lives in New Zealand). Or, as pointed out in yesterday’s comments, my brother-in-law Nick, who is in Beijing. Although it’s possible that it was my sister, since her husband would make a worthy accomplice.
Felicity Banks 