A writer’s update

So close! So, so, so close!!

What am I talking about?

The end of my current work in progress – Talent Uprising. Yes, I am just about jumping for joy, and I haven’t even crossed the finish line yet.

Last weekend, early on Sunday morning I was chattering away to one of my critique partners. Every day we make a list together about what writing work we would like to get through for day, and we were discussing this abdominal list that I had to get through. Then she said something to me that made me pause. “Leigh. What about your own writing? There is no point writing blogs, or critiquing work, or doing everything for everyone else, if you are not actually making any real progress on you own stuff.”

I knew she was right. Oh man, she was more than right. Then she said to me, “Come on – let’s just do ten minutes right now together, and then you have at least accomplished something for yourself this weekend.”

And so I opened OmmWriter, and I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I finally stopped because I had to, but the main thing was that I actually got something down for me! Then on Monday, I did the same thing, and spat out close to two thousand words before I even started work for the day. Tuesday, wasn’t so good, but it was still over a thousand words on the page. (I’m telling you… if you don’t have OmmWriter – go and get it. Wonderful programme to write in. Absolutely fabulous.)

You see, the reason why I am so excited about all this, is because I am wrapping up the ending of a book. I can almost feel the complete novel. I promised myself that I would get this book written by mid-June, and I am almost there. And I love that feeling more than anything else in the world. If I just keep tapping away at it, day by day, in my own little NaNoWriMo style, then it will be done. I would like to reach a minimum of 85k of words before I put the pen down on this book.

Then I’ll be celebrating. Maybe. I the meantime, I’ll just keep writing till I get there.

Port Underwood, Marlborough Sounds

This weekend I am in the Marlborough Sounds, working on the house. So, think of me up a ladder doing under floor insulation and painting. Yuck. These things do need to happen though, and I need to keep visualising how lovely it will once it’s all finished. Naturally I would much rather be at home for the three day weekend just doing my own thing, but there are necessities in life that you are obligated to. Besides, the Marlborough Sounds is beautiful, and there is lots of inspiration here for me.

In other news, the hard copy of Tales for Canterbury is getting sent out, and I am so praying that I have my copy sitting at home for me when I get back there. Very exciting! It’s a shame I can’t frame it. Well, I could… if I box framed it, but then I wouldn’t be able to read it!

Next weekend I plan on sorting out the feng shui of my library, not that Husband actually knows that yet. But he’ll figure it out when he sees me dragging things through the library door and piling them up in the living room. When I get it all sorted out, I’ll blog it with a picture. I just need to double check all of the measurements… and maybe use my wheel barrow as a skip bin to throw out horrendous amounts of junk. I promise that I won’t throw my first drafts though, despite the need for it. I’ll put them somewhere safe so that I can reflect on them later in life.

And according to Marie Burgos, a feng shui interior designer says:

GETTING RID OF CLUTTER: is an essential step to apply as the problem with clutter is: “it leaves no room for growth!”

I think that’s about it from me at the moment. Editing of The Mediterranean Source is planned to start in mid-June. Fingers crossed that I stick to my timeline.

Oh, and almost forgot to say – this is Parchment Place’s 50th post in the blogging world!

 

Life or something like it

The Death of Marat, by Jacques-Louis David (1793)

Call me crazy, but I have been thinking a lot about death recently. I put this down to reading a whole heap of books that focus a lot on death and killing. Morbid, I know, but there is just something that gets my adrenaline racing by reading this stuff. One of the books was actually a romantic comedy… but it’s the pivotal view of the family’s grief of their daughter’s death that got me thinking a lot. Another book I have just finished reading was about a fight to the death, and the incredible relationship that the character has with her mother, sister, and dead father. This is one of the driving forces that helps keep her alive.

Family relationships are complicated, no matter which way you look at it. How do we, as writers, translate these dynamics on the pages? I have no idea. I can only use my own experiences in my family to try and explain this. Each member of the family is unique, and each has their own passions and interests. I know that with me and my siblings, we have a few things in common. (These interests include surfing, environment, and making total fools of ourselves.) But we each have incredible passion for something individual to each of us. My brother is really passionate about sustainable building, and community gardening … he even has a five acre area in the middle of paradise to make this community garden work for him and his friends all year round. My sister loves art and design (much like I used to) but she is so passionate about it, that she lives, breathes, and studies it, constantly expanding her mind to take in the unknown. And this is where I fit in. My passion in life is writing, and much like my brother and sister with their passions – I live it, breathe it, study it, and produce it.

We are by no means the perfect family. We fight, argue, laugh, and act the goat. But if anyone comes against us – including our parents, by golly, look out. There is no taking sides, it is complete defending against all that threaten us. I know that I can count on those two for anything, whether it’s a shoulder to lean on in times of strife, or someone just to laugh with. I am lucky.

My characters in my books are not lucky in this respect. I have only ever built two families in my novels that were similar to mine. Why? Because I could directly relate to them. The rest of my novels and work are nothing like this. There are huge family divisions in the books, a lot of anger, hate, and god only knows what else that arises. But it’s in writing these lives that helps me engage with my characters, and to gain a clearer understanding of what it’s like to come from families like these. And, as morbid as this may sound… I have come to realise that these characters are just that little much easier to kill if I have to. I am going to explain this a little more, if you can stand it.

They are easier to kill, because there family make up is not like my own. If either of my siblings died, I seriously do not know what the hell I would do. Would I sit there and write a book like I did when my parents split up? No, probably not. But in terms of my characters dying, the detrimental rifts within my characters families allow me to be more impartial about it. Now just imagine how strong and emotional my writing could be if I killed a character with a family like my own.

One day I should try it. But right now I am still too afraid to try.

 

Mataiva Island: reconnect with yourself

The warm sands move between your toes as you stroll down the sparse beach in the early morning light. The warm breeze licks across your face, weaving in and out of the palm trees surrounding the island, interlinking all of the elements around you together. You gaze in awe at the sun rising, and you step into the lapping water. The water surprises you, because its warmth is not something you were expecting. You feel part of something living and breathing. That is because you are. Then you suddenly remember. You are on Mataiva Island, only a hop, skip, and a jump from Bora Bora, which lies somewhere in the south-west. And you count yourself lucky that Mataiva is not swarming with tourists all trying to work on their tan.

This is not an Island that you come to for entertainment, shopping, or even really socialising. This is an island that is isolated, stunning, warm, and extremely affected by weather patterns and the like. But the good thing is that it does have a very small airport, hardly any accommodation, and not that many people either. This is most definitely not a tourist destination. We are off the beaten track in the Tahitian islands.

The island is shaped like an incomplete ‘O’. It has a massive lagoon that spans across the internal breadth of the island. In the lagoon area, you will find warmth, fishing, diving around the coral, and somewhere to laze around casually in the water. A place to be alone with your thoughts. This is a location where you can let go of your everyday stresses that you constantly harbour from your busy life. An island paradise, that no one else really knows about. The place where the first thing you do when you step off your flight, is to really make sure your mobile is switched off, and any other connection you have with the outside world. This is an island where you are allowed to lose track of time by not wearing your watch.

In terms of this Urban Fantasy trilogy that I am currently writing, I chose it for war. Yes, you did read that correctly. It was somewhere remote, beautiful, and calm… I knew that I had to have a war somewhere secluded, and so this devastatingly stunning place was where I chose to spill blood, sweat, and tears. My poor characters.

But I also chose it to be a medical base for my characters as well… A really big medical base. I wanted it to be a place that only my characters would be able to move freely to and from with their own unique ‘other-worldly’ abilities. Being so remote gave me that opportunity. This place has tranquil warmth, healing properties, its own eco system, and I just knew that while it could be a place of destruction and fear, it could also hold the potential to heal those who are sick.

So, this is Mataiva Island in the Polynesia region. For whoever reads this – don’t go there to turn it into some sort of highly profitable holiday resort. This is not the kaupapa* of the island. Go there to take time for yourself. Get to know the locals. Learn the legends surrounding the area about the rock and the tortoise. Get to be who you are. Heal from your everyday life.

*Kaupapa – the land within (Maori)

Kaupapa (Maori) is a plan, a set of principles and ideas that inform behaviour and customs. Mana whenua (authority in the land) is achieved when a person’s inward kaupapa is aligned with the outward land. When the relationship with the land is lost, people’s inner sense of security and foundation may be lost too.

 

My writer’s journey: Part I

All I wanted for my 30th birthday was to have my book published. Of course, I was only 25 when I decided this. By the time that I actually reached 30, I knew that there was more of a journey for me to follow through with before that vital publishing step could happen.

But if you had asked me five years ago, it would have definitely been publishing. Don’t you just love naivety? It’s a beautiful thing. A sense of innocence. 

My parents always told me that I could be anything that I wanted in the world. It’s even more amazing, that I found what I wanted. It was the incredible world of literature. Of other worlds that amazingly creative minds have created. Worlds that I just love to immerse myself in. Of course I didn’t just stumble across it. I have always been a reader, since I was a wee spring chicken. At our local community library when I was a child, I managed to pretty much read my entire way through it. Yup, even the adult stuff. I loved it. Libraries are now a great sense of comfort for me. That is one of the reasons why I built my own library at home. Oh, it’s not that ‘grand’, but it is lined with books. So many books.

Skipping back to when I was young… I was also a writer back then as well. I wrote many a short story, and many a poem. I also kept numerous journals, for numerous years. But I didn’t actually know that I was a writer. I guess that it had never really occurred to me. This was not an aspiration that I had worked towards. I spent years training to be a designer. Then once I actually got to be a designer… I just knew somewhere deep down inside of me, that this wasn’t right either.

When my parents split up (when I was 25), I went through a bit of a rough time. I took a few days off work to process this fracture in my life. During those days off, I stumbled across an old diary of mine. (One of the many diaries that I wrote.) Inside was a list. A beautiful list of all the things that I wanted to do and achieve before I died. So I sat down in the bottom of my wardrobe, and I started going through the list, and crossing off things that I have done. Like bungy-jumping, buying a house, driving a racing car down the quarter-mile track, getting married… you get the idea. But on this list, stated at item number 13 was: Write a book.

Just for the record, number 13 has always been one of my lucky numbers… and reading this list was all the encouragement that I needed.

I started straight away. I leapt into character development, and storyline planning. And then I started writing. I wrote and I wrote. And in between writing, I was comforting my brother and sister through the separation. But I was writing. Writing like the wind, I would say. I was cranking out 6000 words per weekend. Now, for an amateur, that’s not a bad effort.

In the middle of all this, I started to network with other writers online. A very small grouping, but it was enough. This was when I met a really good, and long-term writing friend, Peter. He wrote these amazing stories about a chap named Tom Fish that kept me in fits of giggles.

But it was the support and the love of the craft that bonded us together. He was also the first reader of my very amateur blogging efforts. Bless. I feel sorry for Peter, now that I look back on those times.

I’m so pleased that I have walked the incredible path that I have already. It has taken me years, but still I trudged onwards.

Not long after I met Peter, I printed out the 80,000 word manuscript that I managed to crank out, and I gave it to a friend. She told me that she wanted to read it, and I let her. Big fricking mistake. I wasn’t ready. I really wasn’t. The feedback that she gave me was appalling, and I’m afraid that this has scarred me for life.

When I say that it has scarred me… well this is because I think I wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say. Maybe this has made me a better writer? Maybe it hasn’t. But what I really didn’t need at the time was for her to go through my precious first manuscript that was so close to my heart with a red pen, and mark out every single mistake I had made. I needed someone to read it, and tell me whether or not the story was okay, or whether or not the storyline needed further work. It was hard enough hearing her say that she thought my story was a trashy novel reincarnated, but it was even harder reading through all the red pen. Needless to say, that story [The Legacy] is hiding away in a deep dark drawer waiting for me to finally pay it a little bit of love and attention again.

This story is particularly close to my heart because this was the novel that I wrote during an incredibly emotional time with my parents, and my family unit falling apart. This was the story that helped me work through a multitude of issues. My husband once told me that I should burn it. put it through a formal burning ceremony, to release and let go of those dark days… but a part of me just can’t burn up months and months of solid and hard work. You see, it’s not just the manuscript that I would be burning. It’s a part of my writer’s journey. The foundation stone of this journey.

After getting that first initial lot of feedback, and after all the hurt, I sat back and took stock. I looked at everything in detail, and reinvented my ideas, and my working methodology. During that time, I also started to build a fortress around myself. I taught myself that feedback is one person’s opinion, and that you can either take it or leave it. But it is a readers opinion. And if you want anyone to read your work, then you should probably pay attention to it. You don’t have to take it on board – just pay it some sort of attention. After all, the reader has taken the time out of their lives to give this to you. it’s a gift. Embrace it. Embrace the criticism, because only you can learn from it.

I still consider myself being at the start of my journey. Perhaps I will always feel that way? Perhaps not. All I know is that there is so much more out there for me to learn, embrace, and produce. There are many more stories and novels in me. And only I can put them out there.

So, that’s me for the moment. This is part I of my story. I’m sure that there will be many more parts to this as I progress, but this is it for now. This post was intended to be a post about me reviewing other people’s work… but somehow it morphed into something bigger than just that.

Tom, Me, and Millie. My siblings, and the most awesomely creative people.