The Chocolate Race
I like taking salted gourmet nuts and putting them in a bowl with other lollies so the salt spreads throughout, accenting all the flavours.
So sure, I tried the new Cadbury Vegemite chocolate. This is how it goes:
- Cautious bite.
- Hey, it’s just like a strongly salted caramel. It’s really not baaa—-
- Aaarrgghh!!!!! Vegemite!!!! WHYYYYYYYYY!!!!????!?!?!??!?!
- Eat something else to get rid of the taste.
- Think, “I do like salted caramel. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. I should give it another chance.”
- Return to Step 1.
Today I’ll be comparing the classic “Picnic” bar and block versus the new limited addition “Pretzel and Peanut” block. All are Cadbury products.
The Picnic bar has wafer, peanuts, and caramel. It’s tricky to eat (peanuts and chocolate fragments tend to explode everywhere with each bite) but it’s delicious. “Picnic” is an appropriate name, because it’s genuinely filling (thanks, peanuts). It’s famously knobbly in appearance, and to the best of my recollection gets advertised in a “This is yummy” fashion rather than a sexy fashion, which is both excellent and a wise choice for the product.
The block version is completely regular in shape. There’s no caramel and the wafers have transmogrified into crisps (a fair trade, except in the bar they feel like a necessary stabilising element that also adds texture, whereas in the block version they mostly feel like filler). It’s a lot easier to eat, but has much less charm and taste. Don’t take my caramel, people.
The Peanut Pretzel block is a new favourite of mine. It has just a hint of salt (because pretzels) and that makes it incredibly compelling. It doesn’t have any caramel either (but I never missed it until now), and feels like it has more chocolate per piece than the picnic version.
Nice work, Cadbury. Send me review copies of your latest work anytime. I’ll be here.
Deadlines
I love deadlines.
That’s not sarcasm. The writing life consists largely of sitting alone in a room (or worse, sitting in the same room as young kids who I desperately hope are sufficiently distracted by the blaring TV) scowling at a screen as I invent worlds and people that absolutely no-one cares about except myself. Deadlines give me a sense of urgency and excitement that is sometimes sorely lacking. When a deadline is approaching I feel stressed, but (unless something else comes up and sends me hurtling over the edge) it also gives the sense that someone is waiting for that piece of writing – and that it matters.
Whether writing “matters” or not is a can of snakes that I won’t get into today. But, I do like deadlines.
At the moment I have four and a half deadlines coming up in the next month. Wheeeee!
One is for a novel submission that I promised someone I’d send in September (ish); two are for interactive fiction contests that are ending soon; and the other one and a half are for collaborative interactive fiction pieces (one of which I’m running, and the other of which I’m mostly acting as cheerleader while also writing a significant section).
Before I stumbled across the glorious cornucopia of interactive fiction (think “Choose Your Own Adventure” stories but better), I was going to make 2015 the year that I wrote a novel slowly. It would be an experiment in writing against my usual nature, and perhaps discovering that my writing was much better if I was less manic about it. Then I found interactive fiction, and by the end of September my total IF word count will be around the 150,000 mark (two large pieces, two medium, and two collaborations). So I’m not exactly writing slowly, particularly since that’s roughly three times my usual annual output.
A funny side effect happened due to the fact that when Choice of Games – absolutely my favourite IF engine and company (and they pay well too) – is considering taking on a project for its premier label, they require a detailed outline first. Those outlines always run over 5000 words, including loads of choices and their consequences. To put that in perspective, the last book I wrote was based on a story told to me by my then 2-year old. I did some googling, scrawled a map and a chapter outline (maybe 200 words) and was writing the book within three days. I finished it a few weeks later.
But the interactive piece I’m working on most at the moment – a fantastical pirate adventure called SCARLET SAILS – has a proper Choice of Games outline. And because I was waiting to hear back about a different project, I had to let it sit for a long time – which also meant I could discuss the basic plot with some intelligent people and discover major plot issues BEFORE I’d written a 50,000-word novel. So interactive fiction distracted me from slow writing, then brought me back to it.
The other interesting side effect of IF is that suddenly I’m collaborating. I’ve done that exactly once before, when I wrote a one-page play in high school. It barely counts as collaborating, since my (undying, I’m sure) prose wasn’t edited in any way except by the nature of performance. (I do remember one friend saying, “So I’m playing God? Mm’kay.” which was most definitely a positive comment on my casting choices.) I write because I LIKE sitting alone in a room inventing worlds and people out of nothing… and I like being the international expert and ultimate authority on every single aspect of my work. Like my actor friend, what I really want is God-like powers and unquestioning obedience.
But I also love a deadline. (I may have mentioned that.) So when someone on the IF forums at Choice of Games suggested some kind of game-writing jam, I leapt at the chance. I specifically said that I thought collaborations were a bad idea, and so naturally a few days after that I volunteered to lead what ended up being a cheesy 50s-style space adventure collaboration (and then someone asked me to whip their multi-genre bookshop collaboration into shape, and I gleefully did so).
And it is so. much. fun. It helps that everyone involved seems to have figured out that I will work very very hard to earn ultimate power, and so they say things like, “Go ahead and edit my bit however you like” which I’m pretty sure means I just became a benevolent dictator (and I LOVE it).
I will of course post an easy-to-play link here when the game is ready. It’s turning out surprisingly well (and the editor is fantastic). But here’s the front cover just to tease you.
Credit for the space background: http://palnk.deviantart.com
The Amazing Reverse-Goldilocks Belly
So.
Last post I wrote about how the surgeon I saw about the gap in my abdominal muscles was probably too small to be covered through the public health system. “My hands are tied,” he said. “Although you certainly need the surgery.”
I had a CT scan that revealed (among other things) the gap in my abdominal muscles is 9cm wide.
Yay.
Went back to the same surgeon with the CT scan results. “Ooh, that’s much too big,” he said. “This hospital isn’t equipped for such a major surgery,” he said. “My hands are tied,” he said.
So.
Another hospital, another waiting list, another surgeon.
Medical Drama of the Week
A few months ago I had post-partum surgery #1. I wouldn’t call it a success, exactly, but things did improve – so much so that I returned to work after a year and a half of unpaid sick time.
I didn’t return to my old work (there’s a long and fascinating story there which I do intend to tell someday), but to a brand new private babysitting gig. It’s a very easy job, and is JUST within my capability at the moment. I’ve completed three weeks with no dramas, and I’m starting to feel vaguely competent. Also, I really like the family – and I get to take my kids along some of the time too. I adore watching kids interact with each other, so taking my kids along is much more than convenient – it makes the job glow.
About a month ago I saw a surgeon for post-partum surgery #2. He was a stranger to me, and I hoped going into the appointment that he’d be going over surgery stuff (fasting, etc), and giving me a bunch of pamphlets to read over. Instead he told me that although I certainly needed surgery, my GP might have misdiagnosed me (with a large gap in my abdominal muscles – a common post-pregnancy thing) and the public health system would therefore not cover me. He sent me to get a CT scan.
The CT scan was cool. I lay down on a table experiencing wacky effects from the contrast injection, all while alone in a giant room as the mechanical table passed me back and forth through a large ring, and a mechanical voice told me periodically to hold my breath. The ring part reminded me of Stargate.
The results were sent to the surgeon and to my GP.
My GP knows my entire family (four generations of us!) and I have so many medical dramas that I just keep a list of non-urgent things and then when someone is properly sick (eg Louisette had bronchitis last week) I take them all in to get sorted out. I went in for something else and asked for the CT results.
It turned out that why yes I DO have an abdominal gap…. of nine centimetres. So my guts are literally hanging out. (The abdominal muscles separate in every pregnancy, but generally go back together – or at least within a couple of centimetres.) This is brilliant news, because it means that I can still get the surgery I need, plus I feel like way less of a wimp now.
The CT also revealed two other things. One is a minor thing, but will probably require preventative surgery all the same (I’m hoping that it can be done at the same time as my stomach, but we’ll see – I’ll ask the surgeon on Thursday, when I next see him). It’s interesting mainly because I went to two different doctors a couple of months ago because of intense pain in my side. After googling, I figured it was appendicitis. They both said it was “yeah I dunno” and the pain faded after a few days, leaving me feeling kinda dumb. Actually it’s a splenal hemangioma – which sounds bad, but it basically just a benign lump – but one that’s big enough (2.2cm) that it really should be chopped out. The funny thing is that I would have come across splenal hemangiomas in my googling, and dismissed them for being too rare. Presumably this also means that I’m infested with dozens of fascinating diseases that haven’t yet been seen in Australia.
The other thing revealed by the CT scan is damage to my spine – damage that is degenerative.
The up side is that I feel a lot better about all the times I’ve chosen not to lift a kid/stand up/help someone/change a nappy/etc because of my back. The down side is that bones are a bit tricky to fix. Also, I’m not sure if it’s degenerative (that is, getting worse) because of the stomach stuff (which will be fixed), because of my usual bad posture (which is not an easy thing to fix, especially when everything already hurts), or because of my body just being annoying/aging.
And a big part of my post-partum depression has been fear of further injury due to picking up/playing with my kids. That fear had been fading, but now it’s been given a new lease of life. Congratulations?
Again, something to talk to the surgeon about.
And here’s TJ in his best suit, because why not?
My love affair with the em dash
I love using dashes – as I’m sure you’re already aware – and my level of addiction only hit me when I had to alter the style in a 60,000-word document. I was able to use find/change but had to check each one.
Wow. There were a lot.
And then I read this article about using less dashes. It makes a lot of good points, but I still use a lot of dashes. Hopefully I can cut back.
French Cooking. . . Felicity Style
I’ve successfully managed to NOT get into the Tour de France this year, which is excellent as five hours a day of additional TV (regardless of what I’m also doing as I watch) is laughably implausible at the moment. However, I did still see the first cooking segment by enthusiastic French chef Gabriel Gaté, and decided to make it. More or less.
The actual recipe is for Dutch Gouda Tartlets with mushrooms, ham, and onion. The recipe opens with instructions to make shortcrust pastry.
Mine is. . . different.
Dutch Gouda Tartlets (sans gouda, dutch-ness, mushrooms, ham, onion, and pastry):
1. Make sure you have enough bread defrosted (probably the same number of slices as you have in your large muffin tray – for us, 12).
2. Make a cheese sauce using butter, flour, milk, and pre-grated mozzarella (and ideally a thermomix). Add herbs/garlic/whatever makes it taste good to you (it’ll be fine with nothing added). You can use the proportions from the original recipe, or any white/cheese/béchamel sauce. Or a jar from Woolies.
3. Dice and cook some bacon (or just use ham 😛 Or tinned tuna/salmon. Or refried beans. Or whatever).
4. Add some kind of cooked vegetable/s – at different times I’ve used grated carrot, avocado, cauliflower, and/or bok choy.
5. Cut crusts off the bread and push them into the muffin tin spaces.
6. Pour cheese sauce mixture into bread “cases”, sprinkle more grated cheese on top, and cook in a hot oven for 10-20 minutes.
Done.
Miss Three puts the bread into the muffin tray, and get excited at the idea that we’re eating muffins.
Steamp-ow!
Before people figured out anaesthetics (still a very tricky art in 2015), surgery was all about speed. A “good” surgeon could amputate a limb in under thirty seconds. Yay?
Right now I’m working on another steampunk interactive tale – which will be free once it’s done. The above article was excellent for my research. Luckily for my protagonist, his story begins in 1854 – so chloroform is in common use. Unluckily, the real historical figure upon which the protagonist is based was on the run at the time of his amputation, so he was awake the entire time.
Peter Lalor is that protagonist, by the way. How could I resist writing about such a fascinating individual, who took centre stage more than once in crucial moments of Australian history – and who had an arm lopped off at a point that can only be described as “terribly inconvenient for him, but excellent for steampunk writers with a penchant for attaching mechanical limbs to people”?
What to wear?
In the world of interactive fiction, I very quickly discovered Emily Short, who is a clever, thoughtful, and successful writer/reviewer/blogger. In one of her reviews of a particular IF story, she went on a tangent about how she goes to gaming conferences and wonders how to dress and act in such a way that she doesn’t get idiots approaching her to give her lectures on the biz.
I’m yet to go to a proper game conference, but I go to a lot of writer/reader/fan ones.
I love a good costume, especially steampunk – which I also write. A corset tends to make any body type look better, so that works for me. Steampunk is such an easy and versatile look to do that I can take it anywhere, and people will often walk up to me saying, “Cool earrings” (or whatever), which is code for, “Hey, I like steampunk too.” And then I’ve found somebody I know I can probably talk to, even if I’m at a conference or event that tends to look askance at the entire fantasy genre (it happens in writing circles, believe me). I’ll often go in knowing I’ll be the only one in a corset, and that some people will think I’m a moron for wearing one (that was certainly the case at the CYA Conference I attended last weekend – possibly the best networking conference for writers in Australia). But ultimately it works for me very well – people tend to assume I’m a steampunk expert, in fact, which amuses me.
Costuming is a convenient path that tells people, “I’m serious about this.” Emily Short isn’t into costumes, so her choice of outfit is a great deal more complicated and subtle.
Along with the corset, I also consciously adopt an “I’m an enthusiast, not trying to be sexy” style and posture – complete with a deliberately subordinate position towards most people I talk to (generally in the form of being somewhat admiring of their wisdom and/or costume), although I’ll launch into teacher and/or helper mode at the drop of a hat (eg. When someone is too shy to approach someone, I’ll suggest we go talk to them together).
Sexy is well beyond me, and I know it. I never liked it anyway. On a really good day, I can turn “massively overweight” into “epic and magnificent”, and I’m proud of that.
This is my corset of choice at the moment:
I wear it quite loose so I can get it on by myself (with considerable difficulty). I was running late at CYA and carried it out with me in the morning, putting it on in a crowd of high-up publisher types as we waited for our taxi. One of the other writer types helped me, fortunately.
Buckles are cool.
CYA was amazing. It seriously had representatives from every large publisher in Australia (except Allen & Unwin), plus several of the best medium-sized publishers and three very good agents. I talked to literally every single one, and it was very quickly apparent where I should (or should not) send my books. Useful!
Interactive Fiction: My Shiny New Obsession
If you’ve set eyes on me for more than thirty seconds at any point this year, you know all about my shiny new obsession: interactive fiction. It’s the digital form of “Choose Your Own Adventure” novels.
As of seven minutes ago, my first publicly-available interactive fiction story is live (and also free… for now) right here – scroll down to the bottom of the linked page and click on this:
You don’t need anything more specialised than a computer, and you’ll read the book within a Firefox browser.
This particular story (which takes about twenty minutes to read) is about what happens when a two perpetual students fall through a portal into the magical, tropical world of Rahana. It’s a place where a pregnant queen’s island is under siege, and where a handshake can kill.
You, dear reader, are one of those perpetual students. You choose whether you’re male or female, happily single or crushing on your best friend (who just happens to fall through the portal with you – you also choose their gender). You decide whether you’re a natural fighter or a master manipulator; a doctor or a jack of all trades. When the battle begins, you can choose to kill or heal, to strategise or inspire. Even if you’re completely useless as a character, you get a good story out of it – and you can be someone completely different the next time you read it, too.
How does it work?
Funny you should ask.
As a player, it’s a simple matter of clicking your mouse (or in some cases your finger, since most interactive fiction can be read on smart phones) on the choice that looks best to you, then on the “Next” button to go to the next page. Your choices make a difference in various ways. Usually, choices change your statistics (for better or worse) – recording your personal traits, your relationships with others, and the skill/s you practise along the way. Later on in the game, those choices change your ability to succeed or fail in certain endeavours. You can check up on your stats along the way (there’s a button at the top of the screen), or ignore them and choose with your heart every time (that’s what I do, especially on the first read-through). I also like having “Achievements” listed as a tantalising hint of some of the story’s possibilities. There’s a button for achievements, too, but it’s not possible to gain all of them in a single play-through.
I really like the American company Choice of Games (yes, that’s why my spelling is suddenly non-patriotic) because they’re fun, non-graphic, and determined not to discriminate. In their games, it’s always possible (when relevant) to pick both your gender and orientation.
The lack of strong female characters in fiction magically disappears when a player chooses his/her own gender – and I love that!
So, that’s a lightning-fast preview of the big news I’ve been hinting at all year. “Down the Wombat Hole” isn’t even my first interactive novel…. but the details of the others will have to wait for another post! Let’s just say my days of steampunk and piracy are just beginning.
Oh, and by the way? It just so happens that “Down the Wombat Hole” is set in the same world as my print novel (coming out in 2016) “Stormhunter”. So if you’ve ever read a fantasy book and wished with all your heart you could visit it yourself, now is your chance.
Edited to add: “Down the Wombat Hole” is now part of a full-length collaborative game called LOST IN THE PAGES (with the new chapter title THE QUEEN’S CHILD, and no wombat).
And the small press Satalyte that was going to publish STORMHUNTER has stopped running, but Odyssey Books has just (as of October 2017) taken on the middle-grade pirate trilogy set in the same world, which suggests STORMHUNTER will sail again (it’s young adult, and set hundreds of years after the middle-grade trilogy, so it makes sense to publish the middle-grade trilogy first).
