S#71: Fruit and Veg
Today is Friendsday Wednesday – a day to celebrate friends (either by a DIY public holiday, by meeting someone at their work cafe for lunch, or just calling someone you love to like). http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=348494771209&index=1
I celebrated by buying a ridiculous amount of fruit and vegetables to feed my impoverished associates.
It’s always good being as absent-minded as yours truly, because I get home from shopping and say things like, “Wait a sec. . . is that. . . yes it is! A coconut. Huzzah!”
Yesterday I made hommus (for the first time in my life; I’ll blog about it officially soon). Tomorrow I’ll be making soup for lunch, and serving all these items as snacks during the day, as I desperately try to not eat chocolate or lollies – the fruits and mint here will all go into a mighty delicious drink of awesomeness. I may even let someone else have a sip.
Mmm. . . shiny.
In other news, yesterday I bade a sad farewell to Sherlock, my reticulate cory. He was an impulse purchase (although he DID solve my snail problem) who will grow far too big for my tank – and he’s made Gandalf (my Siamese fighting fish) sick. I have a friend with a 150L tank just for loaches and tetras, so it was perfect. She even has a reticulate cory already (frighteningly large, too). I watched Sherlock in his new tank for a very long time, and he was clearly delighted with his much bigger environment (which has hundreds of hidey-holes to explore). It’s sad to see Sherlock leave, but I know everyone’s better off.
In other other news, I’m now halfway through my four weeks of digestive awesomeness. The lack of chocolate makes me want to punch the universe in the face, and I’m nauseous a lot (less so as time passes, but I think I have some genuine food intolerances to sort out). And, as you probably gathered from the accusations of pregnancy flying about, I’m rather bloated. Only sheer self-righteous determination is keeping me going. I still haven’t re-achieved my 78 kilos (I gained three kilos due to a combination of factors), but I will still probably make 76.5 (actual healthy weight range) by the time the four weeks are up.
Tomorrow: Three-Ingredient Thursday: Baked Apple
And here’s another beautiful thing for you to gaze upon, once again taken by Candida Hofer and published by Thames&Hudson:
S#27: Love Your Fear
I hate and fear Winter. More than you’d think.
It’s July now, and I’m already dreading Winter next year. I usually get depressed in March, by horrified anticipation. My face peels off, my skin burns (dermatitis – I’m literally allergic to clothing), and the core of me stays cold until October.
So I’m going to try to love Winter. If I can pull it off, I’ll save myself six months of annual misery.
Here’s what I’ve found to love about Winter:
– I love the smell of wheat packs
– The constant beanie-wearing cleverly conceals bad hair days
– Garlic becomes a food group
– There’s nothing to dread; it gets better from here
– Chocolate becomes a food group (and tastes better, and doesn’t melt)
– Body odour is not an issue like in Summer
– There’s far more sunshine inside
– My cats are MUCH friendlier
– I love making soup, and lasagna (CJ makes the best lasagna ever), and anything containing potatoes.
– I’m safely distanced from Christmas (family events give me panic attacks, and giving presents is a nightmare on my stupid income), and Christmas holidays (when I earn less than $50 a week for six weeks).
Play along at home: What do you like about Winter?
Throughout July I’ll be posting a picture of either a library or a cthulu (or perhaps, someday, both) as companion to the twittertale “When Good Libraries Go Bad.” Thames&Hudson published a book of library photos taken by Candida Höfer. You can see the details at http://www.thamesandhudson.com/9780500543146.html. This photo is a reproduction from that collection (pass your mouse over the picture to see which library it is).
S#29: Write to your idols
In preparation for the writing festival on the weekend, I visited the websites of most of the guest authors, and picked the five books that looked most suited to my taste – “The Ruby Talisman” by Belinda Murrell (about a modern girl who wakes up one morning next to her great-grea-great grandmother just as the French revolution begins), “The Rage of Sheep” by Michelle Collins (about a high schooler working out her life, love and faith in a rather unpleasant 80s small town – the writing was instantly involving and funny throughout), “Mischief Afoot” by Moya Green (a little young for me, but fun and funny to read), “Samurai Kids 1: White Crane” by Sandy Fussell (A bunch of kids train for a samurai contest – but all of the kids are missing limbs or sight or the desire to fight), and “The Starthorn Tree” by Kate Forsyth (about a goat-boy who must flee his home and cross class and species boundaries in order to fulfil a prophecy and depose an evil ruler).
They were all excellent. So which one blew my mind?
“Samurai Kids 1: White Crane” by Sandy Fussell.
A great book needs a great story and great characters. All the above books had that. Sandy’s book also had a sly but gentle humour leaking through every page, and an elegantly unique way of describing the main character’s feelings – through his spirit, the white crane. What is more, although it’s not a moral tale, it has a depth of hope and meaning that is unmistakable – the hero, after all, is a one-legged samurai warrior. So anything’s possible. And there’s the warrior’s code, too (minus the traditional suicide bit – it is mentioned in the book as being “old-fashioned”), which is great for people who are drawn to the idea of honour. And the gradual unfurling of the characters is wonderful. The closeness of the friendships reminds me of “The Fellowship of the Ring”.
But my favourite part was the sly but gentle humour.
Samurais aren’t allowed to handle money.
“A samurai serves because it is his duty. Not because he desires gold coins,” Sensei told us.
“How will he eat then?” Mikko asked.
“With his mouth,” Sensei answered.
I took my chance at the festival to go up to Sandy and say (rather incoherently) how wonderful she was (she was very sweet and genuinely flattered – as she should be, since I read hundreds of books each year, and my taste is impeccable). I’ll also make sure she knows about this entry.
Play along at home: Who’s your favourite living author? Tell them why.
Coming soon:
Love your fear
Friendsday Wednesday (have lunch or dinner with a friend, or just call them). http://www.facebook.com/?sk=events#!/event.php?eid=348494771209
Three-Ingredient Thursday: Dessert (quasi-healthy this time)
Make hummus
Unusual anniversary
And here’s your cthulhu quota for today:
#164: Schmoozefest
How to get published:
1. Write a good book (which should take about 10,000 hours – the “write a book” part only takes 100-500 hours). Enter competitions and submit short stories to magazines in the meantime. Make writer friends and get actual critiques (the ones with real criticism, which should include “start over” at least once).
2. Go to a writing conference/s and make a contact (or twelve) – it really IS a job interview, so clean your teeth (etc), use your manners, and research your market thoroughly before you go (including reading their books and being realistic about whether they’re the right market for you). Never say a bad thing about any publisher – firstly because they work harder and longer than most writers do, and secondly because they’re all friends with each other and astonishingly gracious to newbies. So join the kind culture.
3. Send your book to a name, not a slushpile. Then rewrite and repeat. Hedge your bets, but don’t send to absolutely everyone at once. (And, FYI, send to agents before/instead of publishers – but #2 still applies.)
Today’s entry is all about Number Two (take that however you like). This pic was taken as CJ and I drove home from the NSW Writers’ Centre Children’s and Young Adult writers’ Festival (“Ratatouille” was playing in this Maccers, which amused me very much):
During the sessions I learned:
1. Publisher B (the one who’s had one of my books for fourteen months, and another book for seven months) has their acquisitions meetings on every second Tuesday. One of my goals yesterday was to find out exactly what day those meetings happened, and now I can relax on every other day. I also made sure I shook hands with the head of the relevant department and told her who I was. It sounds like an irrelevant detail, but it isn’t. When my name is mentioned, she can add that, in her experience, I have personal hygiene and a fabulous red dress. Ultimately, publishers contract the author, not the book. Now she’s seen the product behind the book, she will feel more comfortable saying yes.
2. Publisher D said – as a sign of how great their slushpile method is for discovering ever so much new talent – they’d accepted five books from the slushpile in the last two and a half years. That means the average chance of acceptance (and remember, this was MUCH higher than usual) is roughly one in TEN THOUSAND. I knew the chance was small, but I didn’t know it was that small (and they hadn’t discovered a single slushpile gem for the three years preceding that). See why #2 is important? (I have her card, and her permission to submit directly to her. That means I now have solid contacts at three of the biggest Aussie publishers. Yay me.)
During the day, I also spoke to two other publishers (both much smaller, but sometimes that’s a good thing). One of them is probably too small for me (but you never know). The other, who I’ll call Publisher H, was already on my list of places to send “Farting My ABCs” (but they’ve been closed to submissions all this year). She said to up my word count from 7,000 to 10,000 – easy. I’ll continue checking their website for when the doors re-open, and then I’ll make sure to mention our conversation in my cover letter. Again, knowing who I am matters.
Other horrific tales:
1. Moya Simons’ second book was a YA verse book. Her editor had her rewrite it seven times (and do a lot more harrowing holocaust research than she had already). It eventually became a kids’ chapter book (no poetry remains), because that’s what the publisher thought was best (and, in my opinion, they were right).
2. Mo Johnson wrote a book (possibly also a second book) that was 25,000 words long. She was asked to increase the word count to 40,000, which she did. They said she’d done great, and could she actually make it 60,000. She did. Then they said it was REALLY great, but actually could it be 45,000 – and just as poignant, please? And she did. Because that’s what a professional writer does.
I also went through the websites of the guest authors and picked five to read that looked older-reader enough (and either funny enough or fantasy enough) to suit my taste. They were all good, but one of them blew my mind. I’ll tell you which one – and why – tomorrow.
I also made a bunch of new writer friends (didn’t find any from Canberra, sadly, but Wollongong seems to be the writing capital of Australia), and there’s at least one who visits Canberra often – plus of course we have the internet.
From http://bookshelfporn.com/, here’s today’s library picture:
S#6: Dress Up (part two)
CJ and I just arrived home from an epic sixteen hour journey. We left Canberra when it was sunless and shrouded in mist, and returned when it was. . . sunless and shrouded in mist.
First, the dress-up dress report: The Dress started conversation, reignited flagging conversation, made friends for me (kudos to Sarah for realising it was based on a Lord of the Rings outfit), kept me warm, announced my fantasy leanings, and made me memorable (a lady called Wendy talked to CJ about his “tall wife in the beautiful dress”). It also played an important role in causing an innocent woman to ask if I was pregnant.
Go ahead, laugh. I did.
*abrupt change of subject*
I hallucinate, sometimes.
A friend with sleep apnoea told me that at a certain stage the brain starts processing visual data as if it’s dreaming. My hallucinations last between one and ten seconds, and are always based on real objects. Since my brain is hard-wired to the absurd, it’s generally easy to tell what’s real and what’s not, even in a split second (although I do slow down for hallucinations, just in case). When I’m not driving, hallucinating is fun.
And so it was that CJ and I found ourselves driving the last leg of our journey in the following fashion: With Maccers slowly disintegrating in our bellies, Barenaked Ladies on the CD player, my face peeling off due to too much artifical heating for too long, and a strange array of night creatures reaching out for us – a balloon man with hooves for hands; an alien foot the size of a car; a shy elephant; and one of the nightmares from the “Where the Wild Things Are” movie.
The conference itself was fabulous. I’ll tell you ALL about it tomorrow.
S#6: Dress Up
So today I’m heading off to the NSW Writers’ Centre, schmoozing in a manner that could potentially change my fortunes. So what’s a girl to wear?
How about this (minus the snow and with an infinitely more dignified hat):
They may think I’m a refugee from the middle ages, but they’re reasonably likely to remember me (“Louise Curtis? That girl in the huge velvet dress?”)
That’s my theory, anyway!
Play along at home: Wear something awesome, somewhere unexpected.
Throughout July I’ll be posting a picture of either a library or a cthulu (or perhaps, someday, both) as companion to the twittertale “When Good Libraries Go Bad.” Thames&Hudson published a book of library photos taken by Candida Höfer. You can see the details at http://www.thamesandhudson.com/9780500543146.html. This photo is a reproduction from that collection (pass your mouse over the picture to see which library it is).
#47: Fall asleep spooning
Last week CJ was sick (he’s better now). His cold coincided with my caffeine-withdrawal headache, so we both just wanted a lie down at the same time. Heater on, curtains closed, shared body warmth. Bliss.
Not awesome enough for you? Never fear!
Throughout July I’ll be posting a picture of either a library or a cthulu (or perhaps, someday, both) as companion to the twittertale “When Good Libraries Go Bad.” Thames&Hudson published a book of library photos taken by Candida Höfer. You can see the details at http://www.thamesandhudson.com/9780500543146.html. This photo is a reproduction from that collection (pass your mouse over the picture to see which library it is).
Tres awesome, non?
And here’s all two days of the story so far:
1
A tentacle circled my neck, squeezing the life out of me with agonizing skill. “Steve!” came Terry’s voice. “Steve! Wake up!”
*
I opened my eyes to Terry, leaning over me. He looked scruffy without his mind-mage robes on. “Your cthulhu nightmares suck.”
“Sorry.”
*
We got up for breakfast. As the mind-mage, Terry got cereal. Phil the muscle-mage got steak. As air-mage, I got zip. And MY robe is puce.
2
“Oi, Steve, stop being nervous,” said Terry.
I said, “Shut up or I’ll CO2 you.”
Phil cracked a smile, exercising at least twenty muscles.
*
We hiked across the desert toward the Forbidden Library. Terry cleared his throat when we were still twenty miles away: “I sense something.”
*
Phil tensed, ready to attack. Terry shook his head: “It’s dead – but still radiating.”
“So. . . ?” I prompted.
Terry said: “It’s a cthulhu.”
Meringues (and cthulhu)
Welcome to July and “When Good Libraries Go Bad”. We interrupt your regular viewing to make this important safety announcement.
Cthulhu: coming soon to eat a planet near you.
What are they? Giant planet-eating monsters. With tentacles. (Which also tells you exactly why they appear in July’s twittertale.)
Who invented them? Probably lots of people, but H.P. Lovecraft is the big guy.
What do they look like? Every day in July I’ll post a picture of either a library or a cthulhu. Here’s a few to get you started (all from Flickr):
And now we move seamlessly into a three-ingredient meringue recipe.
Turn oven on to 100 degrees Celsius.
Beat four egg whites until stiff peaks form.
Slowly add half a cup of caster sugar (I used normal sugar, which isn’t as good).
Add half a tablespoon vanilla.
Spoon them onto greased baking paper in the oven until they look cooked (don’t open the door to check, just turn the oven off when they start to brown and take them out at least half an hour later).
Alternatively, you can eat the entire mixture raw. MmmmMMM.
As you can tell, I didn’t use baking powder, didn’t use any kind of technique to shape them, and was too busy eating to photograph them cooked.
Meringues are so excellent, and so cheap to make.
S#18: Hot stuff
Wearing sexy clothes is hazardous stuff. Steff Metal technically advised readers to wear a suspender belt with stockings, but:
1. Ew
2. Ow
I therefore chose instead to wear sexy boots to work. These sexy boots (bought for me by a sexy bridesmaid when I was engaged):
The cat comes separately.
I wore the boots on Monday and Tuesday, as I went a-tutoring. Certain problems became apparent rather quickly. Those things are seriously heavy. They’re also seriously tall, sending me towering above the six-foot range. Being hot has never been my speciality.
Since I’m also eating almost no chocolate (huge shock to the system, and always makes me lightheaded), my walking was never going to be graceful. I cunningly managed to almost fall over several times, and I had enormous difficulty getting in and out of the car (you try strapping a five-inch block to your feet and see how it works). It was perfectly clear that if I continued driving in these shoes I’d have a horrible crash and die.
And thus my experiment with being a hot young thing has passed into history.
Fatalities: 0
Play along at home: Wear something you probably shouldn’t. Feel free NOT to share it in the comments this time.
In other news, I’ve decided (literally last night) to register for a young adult and children’s lit festival THIS SATURDAY. I’m more than slightly scared, since my primary purpose is to schmooze with industry professionals (and learn from their seminars, of course). Like all writing festivals, it’s like a giant, expensive job interview with scores of mentally unstable applicants charging headfirst into a genteel brawl.
I’ll blog about it on Sunday!
In other other news, here’s some of the meals I’ve been eating (note the vegies) – a lunch and a dinner:
Tomorrow: 3-ingredient dessert of doooooom!
Ten grams
I’m letting myself have ten grams of chocolate today. Exciting stuff. (Nope, that wasn’t sarcasm.)
This morning I weighed 78.9, which is at least within range of where I should have started this weight-loss session from. Now there’s two and a half kilos left to reach my current goal of 76.5 by the new end date of 21 July (three weeks away).
But neither of those things are actually the topic of today’s blog.
Yesterday I heard about the NSW Writers’ Centre holding a conference about young adult and children’s fiction – this Saturday. In Sydney.
The thing is, there are representatives from two big Australian YA publishers there, and it may be worth my while being in the same room (sad but true). So I’ll get up three hours early, drive to Sydney, attend sessions, hope like crazy my submission/s are selected by the interactive panels at the end – and then I’ll drive home. And I’ll talk to people (ugh!) in between.
Scary stuff.
There are three ways this can go:
1. I get really tired. Nothing happens, except possibly some education.
2. I make a shiny new contact/s to send books to.
3. I annoy important people, and my slushpile submissions are listed for indiscriminate burning in publisher offices across Australia.
I’ll let you know. m
Felicity Banks 