What Will Change
. . . when I’m published. (Nope, haven’t heard from Harper Collins yet.)
Novel publication definitely counts as a major life change.
If you imagine working full-time for a charity that has absolutely no-one willing to accept their soup/clothes/etc, then that gives you some idea of what it’s like to be a beginning writer. (Particularly if you were hired with the clause that you would PROBABLY, EVENTUALLY be paid half minimum wage on a semi-regular basis.)
Like all life changes, there will be new stresses – what if no-one buys the book? What if everyone who does hates it? What if THIS book is great but all the others are rubbish? How can I concentrate now everything’s changed?
I LOVE new stresses. The joy of moving furniture. . . into a NEW HOUSE. The insomnia of learning to sleep. . . WITH SOMEONE BESIDE ME. The pressure of writing. . . WITH AN AUDIENCE.
But you can certainly expect some whining. It’ll just be HAPPY whining.
Over a period of several months, I will grow to accept a new meaning, purpose, and sense of self-esteem in life. I’m aware dignity and self-esteem are meant to be intrinsic, but the fact is that when our work is valued, our psyche responds (and vice versa). So I predict a general improvement in emotional well-being, and probably an increase in self-control (eg eating habits) as a result.
My marriage has been a process of shifting my focus from some hazy (but bright) future into a clear (and shining) present. I suspect publication will be like that too.
Best of all, since I’ll actually be paid for my work (a little), I will personally downgrade my mental illness to “eccentricity”. Because everyone’s a LITTLE mental, and it’s just a matter of how bad it is. Once you get paid for your weirdness (or, in my case, the inability to do work other than writing), the bug becomes a feature.
So I’ll be differently nervous, generally happier, and sane.
I guess that IS a bit different.
Companion to Day Thirty-Two: Sea Princess
Sol and I practised swordfighting, and I noticed her hands were soft.
‘A princess ain’t much,’ she growled at me, ‘just a slave in a dress.’
———————————
Personally, I’d rather be myself than a princess. Would you?
Companion to Day Thirty-One: World Part 1
12:30pm
‘Why are all the islands here so black?’ Sol grumbled.
Oldy said, ‘When we take over an island, what will we do with it?’
‘Anything I want.’
————————————————–
When I was eighteen, I lived in Indonesia for six months. I spent most of my time in a concreted house where the weather was almost constant. After two months, I knew that if I felt hot it was 31 degrees, and if I felt cold (which only ever happened at night) it was 26 degrees.
If I ever went outdoors, I drank two glasses of water before I left and two glasses of water when I came back – or I’d get a headache. I’d also stumble and feel faint when I was outdoors, because the sun really is like a constant dragging weight.
I LOVED it.
Here in Canberra it is the last day of Winter. In MY fantasy world, Rahana, there is no Winter – the whole world is tropical. Which means it’s either hot and sunny, or hot and rainy.
Rahana is based on Indonesia, so the people (including Sol, despite my twitter picture of her) are dark-skinned with black hair. There are thousands of islands, many of them unpopulated.
The island with the skeleton was an island that had one bad crop and starved to death due to lack of trade with other islands.
Random fact: Singapore is an island nation that, although incredibly wealthy, doesn’t have enough water to survive. This makes Singapore very tightly bound to Malaysia, where most of their water comes from.
My pet artist
My friend Mel is an excellent artist, so in a moment of brilliance I asked her to draw me pictures to go with “Worse Things Happen at Sea”. She didn’t just say yes, she got all excited – and she did beautiful work. I have eight pictures, some of which haven’t happened yet in the story – but you can see the first five pictures with the relevent bits of story at: http://twittertales.wordpress.com
I now have 250 twitter followers (a solid start, especially considering it’s only been a month), and have another two interviews coming up soon. And one more school to visit.
Here’s the teaser for the next twittertale (3 October-31 December):
“DAYLIGHT”
A horrifying tale of the EMO pandemic sweeping Australia’s capital, and the brave few who fight to find a cure (or, failing that, an efficient program of extermination).
Companion to Day Thirty: Pictures!!
6:00am
I could still see the smoke as we sailed away. At least we hadn’t killed any kids.
Sol was content, even when Mal burnt our dinner to ashes.
4:00pm
‘If you’re following me, does that mean you’ll help me – if things get bad?’ ‘Yes,’ said Oldy. After that talk, I was able to get to sleep.
—————————————————
The excellent Mel has illustrated some parts of “Worse Things Happen at Sea”. Here’s the pictures designed for the story so far, with the relevent tweets (to view them in context, go to Day Twenty-Seven: Story so Far).
Mel’s deviant art page:
http://veleven.deviantart.com/
Sun. Pain. I cracked open my eyes and saw land. "We're saved! Right? SOL!?". . . I passed out.
A beggar took pity on me and gave us his crusts to gnaw. ‘I’m called Oldy,’ he said.
‘It’s a ship,’ I said at first light, ‘so do we meet them - or do we run?’
I saw Oldy steal the boat.
'Anyone thirsty?' Sol brought us food and life all night.
Good news. . . there are at least three more pretty pictures to come.
Companion to Day Twenty-Nine: Sol’s Secrets
7:00am
No crew returned. Sol said, ‘We’re it? A princess, a beggar and a slave?’
I said, ‘Princess? Who’s a –you?!’
‘NO!’ she said. ‘I– shut up.’
Midday
One man turned up. ‘Hello Mal,’ said Sol. ‘Where’s everyone?’
He shrugged.
‘Fine,’ she said, ‘let’s burn this place and find a better one.’
7:00pm
Sol saw kids in a corner and had me take them outside. Once they were safe, we burned their home too.
The night sky turned grey with smoke.
——————————————————–
Yep, our mad teenage captain grew up as a princess. No wonder she ran away from home.
If you go here http://drolleriepress.com/needles-bones/ you can download the FREE prequel, “Tar”, which tells you a lot more about Sol and Ulandin, before they decided to become pirates. BUT there is MATURE UNPLEASANT CONTENT so please don’t read it if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing. (Oh, and Sol called herself “Salty” back then.)
Also, the anthology “Needles and Bones” has the story “At Sea”, which is set about sixteen years after “Worse Things Happen at Sea” (and also calls Sol “Salty”). It’s certainly not the LAST story with Sol in, but if you’re hungry for more it’s a good place to start. It also has MATURE UNPLEASANT CONTENT (which is why both stories are released under my “Felicity Bloomfield” persona – Louise Curtis is strictly G or PG-rated). It’s 15% off at the moment, so now’s a good time to buy it.
Sol's ship (kindly modelled by the Young Endeavour - which I have sailed on)
Companion to Day Twenty-Nine: Landsickness
7:00am
I saw girls playing on a beach as we drew close. ‘Let’s attack some other island,’ I said hastily. ‘People with kids never have much loot.’
8:00am
Sol politely traded a silver necklace for anchorage. She ordered our remaining crew to be good – no stealing, no killing – not yet.
3:00pm
I bought new clothes! Ones with no holes! And I bought myself a bright yellow hat, so I look nautical.
If only the ground would stop moving.
—————————————————-
When I travelled on the Young Endeavour tall ship, we dropped by Napier as representatives of the Australian Navy (which is hilarious to anyone who’s met me).
One of the weirdest experiences was walking on land again. It was incredibly disorienting after having adjusted to the constant movement of the ship. I swear the grass was bulging in and out under my feet.
Ellen Degeneres made me cry
Okay, first of all, a confession: I sometimes watch the Ellen show.
So I was watching Ellen today, and she showed a clip of something associated with awards for “Milk”.
The person accepting the award said, “to all those gay and lesbian people who’ve been told by their church, their family, their state that they’re wrong, I want you to know, God DOES love you. . .”
So I cried – so delighted that it had been said, and so sad that it still needs to be said.
Fifty Grams: Report
Today is day 50 of my fifty-day candy-moderation plan. The rule was that I could eat only fifty grams of chocolate a day (or 100grams of other lollies). I have just one mentos left and I’ll have eaten my full quota for today (give it 30 seconds). More importantly, I have a significant pile of lollies and chocolate in my drawer ready for tomorrow (I’ll have about ten days off to go nuts, then I’ll embark on a slightly stricter fifty days).
Overall I’d call it a success – despite a rather stressful couple of months, I’ve lost a kilo and a half. (Instead of, say, gaining five kilos.) I have a higher enjoyment level with a smaller amount of candy, and I’m out of the habit of the major daily binge (200-300grams).
I still binged – I just binged on pancakes and Weight Watchers chocolate milk instead of real chocolate and lollies (which is why I didn’t lost 5 kilos, as I originally hoped). So I’ll restrict those things next fifty days, and try and binge on fruit and nuts instead.
The theory is that slow change can be maintained. That theory has been supported by the evidence.
Companion to Day Twenty-Seven: Story so far
I think weekly (ish) updates are in order, so here’s “Worse Things Happen at Sea” so far:
1 August. 8am
Sun. Pain. I cracked open my eyes and saw land. ‘Sol!’ I said.
‘CAPTAIN Sol,’ she said – and crumpled.
‘We’re saved,’ I said. ‘Right? SOL!’
9am
Sol awoke. She sat up, unsticking her tarred hair from the deck of our stolen boat. ‘We’re sinking.’
I leapt overboard and swam to save us.
9:00am
I wanted to drink the sea, but I swam. The waves flung me upside down and the sea darkened as I drowned.
Sol grasped my neck.
I passed out.
Land
August 2. 12 midday
The sizzle of frying eggs woke me.
‘Yep,’ said Sol to a bald man beside us, ‘nasty pirates coming. Best hide your treasure. We’ll help.’
August 3. 8am
We ate bread and wine and milk, and a yellow fruit that tasted like chocolate. It was fun, pretending to be good.
I got a stomach ache.
August 4. 3pm
Treasure, I discovered, is heavy. But Sol wore a girlish smile so I didn’t say a word.
The locals thought we were just kids. But we weren’t.
August 5. 9am
The bald elder missed his jewels, so our good times ended fast.
‘Ulandin,’ Sol grinned, ‘don’t waste our loot on food. Let’s steal a ship.’
5pm
A beggar took pity on me and gave us his crusts to gnaw. ‘I’m called Oldy,’ he said.
Sol said, ‘Ulandin’s my first mate. Wanna be our crew?’
Oldy gives Ulandin bread
6pm
Oldy sang songs until the harbour guards left. We chose the best ship and crept past its crew into the hold.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘we’re stuck.’
August 6. 4am
The crew was dull with sleepiness. Oldy rose like a grey ghost in the bridge.
Sol used magic to fell three men. The rest ran for help.
4:30am
Oldy said, ‘Sol’s a quickener? She moves objects by just touch?’
‘It’s common enough.’
‘Not at sea. It’s bad luck.’
‘Sol’s used to that.’
5am
‘The guards have swords,’ I said.
Sol said, ‘Want one?’
‘I want to go.’
She quickened the ship. We sailed away with every sail still closed.
August 7. 11pm
Sol slept, so we drifted. The sun weighed heavy on my shoulders.
‘At least I wasn’t a slave,’ said Oldy.
I said, ‘We both escaped.’
‘Maybe.’
August 8. 7pm
The ship’s old owners left tasty food in it – salted meat, squishy fruit and lots of crackers. Also rum.
Maybe I drunks a bit too muchness.
August 9. 10am
Sol magically bellied out the sails. We were all surprised when we started going backward.
I tried not to laugh.
Sol broke my tooth anyway.
August 10. 6pm
Sol delighted in the burning wind and sun and the constant desperate clapping of our sails.
‘Look,’ said Oldy. ‘Is that a ship – or land?’
August 11. 6am
‘It’s a ship,’ I said at first light, ‘so do we meet them – or do we run?’
Sol picked at her tarred hair and said, ‘Let’s take their crew.’
12 midday
The wind tore at my eyes. Sol yelled, ‘Trim the sails!’ I actually thought she meant to cut them.
Oldy suddenly knew how to sail – somehow.
6pm
‘Pink!’ Sol screamed. ‘Stupid pink sky! And why is that ship still running?’
‘We’ll get them,’ I said.
‘Or they’ll get us,’ said Oldy.
The other ship
August 12 – 7am
‘Sol – Captain Sol?’ I said. ‘Hit me if you like, but there’s forty of them and three of us. And Oldy’s. . . old.’
‘Poor them,’ she smirked.
12 midday
The wind dropped and we caught them.
They laughed at us. I longed to hide behind Oldy.
Then Sol arose, grabbed a rope, and swung across.
12:15pm
‘Do you surrender?’ she cried.
They grabbed swords, but she still had her magic.
Their ship shattered.
‘We’re sorry miss!’ they wept.
August 13. 7am
‘A captain goes down with his ship,’ said Sol – and tied him to his mast. His ship screamed as it sank.
He screamed as long as he could.
August 14. 8am
I said, ‘I’m afraid of her – but I know I’m made to follow her. Are you the same?’
‘No,’ said Oldy. ‘I’m not afraid. And I’m following you.’
August 15. 8am
‘Stop cowering,’ Sol told our new crew, ‘I dislike it. Now, hows about we attack a real target – like an island. Who here wants to be rich?’
12 midday
I asked Oldy why he was following me.
He said, ‘Sol has you. Now you have me.’
‘But –’
‘Everyone needs someone. I of all people know that.’
August 16. 3pm
My back and wrists ached.
The sword tutor asked, ‘Will this island have women then?’
‘I suppose.’
He cheered and toasted Sol – with my rum.
August 17. 8:30am
A man muttered something to his crewmates while Sol was out of sight.
I crept up and grabbed his arm.
He shrieked – EXACTLY like a girl.
August 18. 11am
‘But you ARE a girl,’ I said.
‘No I ain’t.’
‘Don’t the men know?’
‘Coz it ain’t true,’ she said, and picked her nose at me.
I gave up.
2:00pm
‘Li’s a girl,’ I told Oldy.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘she’ll be fine.’
‘How could anyone know that?’
He smiled, ‘I’m much older than I look.’
August 19. 5:00pm
Sol cheated at lessons, using magic to bend the swords – then the teacher.
Luckily Oldy was a healer. ‘Kindly stop breaking arms,’ he said.
8pm
‘Wanna be free?’ Li asked.
I said, ‘Sol already freed me.’
She hauled on a sail: ‘Do you really think that?’
I tied a knot: ‘Don’t you?’
August 20 – midnight
Night wind and stars. I shadowed men to Sol’s cabin, and yelled when they pulled out a knife.
She killed two in an eyeblink.
The rest fled.
4:30am
I threw the bodies away, knowing Li had led them.
Sol and I kept watch in silence all night. Oldy slept on in his cabin.
I dreaded the dawn.
6am
Sol judged us at dawn. Li confessed, and Sol threw her overboard.
The men vanished below like dust swept up.
But I saw Oldy steal the boat.
Oldy stole the boat
August 21: 7:00am
Oldy sauntered in and helped himself to salty breakfast stew.
‘Didn’t you go with Li?’ I asked.
He shrugged, ‘I came back.’
4:00pm
‘Who stole my boat?’ Sol screamed.
Oldy raised his hand. ‘You’re a fine captain. We won’t need it.’
Sol said, ‘You’ll live – for now.’
August 22. 5:00pm
I showed Sol our hold. She said, ‘We still have food for – what – two days?’
‘About that,’ I said, ‘and we’re out of soap.’
‘I’d noticed.’
August 23. 2:00pm
We reached land, searched empty houses, and found a child’s skeleton clutching at dirt.
‘Anyone want to leave?’ Sol said.
No-one spoke.
August 24. 2:00pm
The sun glared on something, and we sailed for it: a pirate ship.
‘Hurrah,’ said Sol, ‘they’ll have food AND treasure.’
The ship chased us.
5:00pm
I forgot my sword lessons and punched and bit. The real pirates slashed my arms and legs. We lost badly. Sol’s face was black with rage.
8:00pm
Sol ran her hand across the bars of our cell – tink, tink, tink. No-one else moved.
‘They’ll feed us soon,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll attack.’
August 25. 9:00pm
I woke slumped against Oldy’s fuzzy beard. Sol was gone. Only our bodies held us up. Then Sol appeared with her arms full. ‘Anyone thirsty?’
Sol appeared with her hands full
midnight
Sol brought us food and life all night. Our guard almost saw her, but she passed magically through the outer wall of the ship until he left.
August 26: 5:00am
‘Do we fight now?’ I asked.
Sol said, ‘Anyone got a sword? No? Never mind. Oldy – come.’
We waited in silence, and heard nothing at all.
9:00am
Sol said, ‘They’re all asleep.’
‘A healing sleep,’ Oldy said, ‘which I wish I had time to give you.’
We scoffed pie before we started work.
midday
We locked the pirates in their filthy cell. Then we stole their cannons, food, and water. And soap. And all their boats. And LOTS of rum.
August 27. 1:00pm
Sol sat on the bowsprit in the dashing spray, frowning. ‘Why, when we won, did half our crew desert?’
‘They’re afraid of you.’
She smiled.
And, because my cousin pointed out the lack of recent pictures. . .
My nephew celebrating "Eat Like a Pirate Day".
Roughly what Sol's ship looks like (except Sol's flag is. . . different).
