Good morning, Readers!

Today is the last day of my blogging week, and I'm not really sure what I want to talk about.  I said everything I needed to say yesterday about what a real writer is and does (spoiler alert: they write).  That's as far as myu addled brain was able to plan ahead.  Now I have nothing to say.

So.... I'm going to talk about a really weird dream I had two nights ago.

My memory of it is very patchy, so I'm just going to relate it in scenes; the things I remember happening in the order I remember them happening in.

Scene 1

Ocean side.  The beach is a steep incline down to the water, which is a beautiful crystalline blue.  I'm a young girl, there on a school trip.  Behind me are two incredibly small houses; little more than shacks.  Everyone is either in the water or sitting on bleachers beneath two tress that are growing on top of the sand dune that serves as a beach.  I'm behind the bleachers, near the shacks.  A teacher approaches me and tries to convince me to get in the water.  I don't want to, because I don't want anyone to see me in a bathing suit.

Scene 2

I'm in my bathing suit.  For the record, it's one of those 50s style halter top suits, and it looks darling!  I peek around the bleachers, and go back to hiding.  I do this several times before I run down the dune into the water.  Once in the water, one boy, who I think I'm supposed to be dating, swims up to me and asks "What, now?"  In my dream I understand that he is asking about his promise to hang out with me.  "Why now?"
I respond saying that I only came into the ocean for a swim and I don't really want to have anything to do with him right now.  My dream self is sassy.  Then he response by gleefully announcing that my desire to be left alone at the moment amounts to me cheating on him.  I inform him that he's an idiot, I'm just doing my own thing, and that's not what cheating means.  He swims off, beside himself with joy, to tell his friends that he's been cheated on.  I shrug and swim away from the rest of the children to play in the sea.

Scene 3

I'm out of the water, alone, near the shacks.  Two people I know from high school - people I actually know from high school in real life - are walking around the shacks.  The girl, who I'm going to call Kelly (not her real name), is acting like a real estate agent, showing the two shacks to the boy, who I am calling Daniel (not his real name, either).  As a result, the shacks are now open, and so while Kelly and Daniel are not looking, I go snooping around the shacks.  The first shack is actually a modest house, with three rooms - a kitchen, a dining/lounge and a bedroom.  It's small, but cosy.  The second shack is a single room affair, with the kitchen/dinging/living room at one end.  A small raised platform houses the bed which sits at the other end of the room.

Scene 4

I am outside of the shacks feeling sad and lonely, when who should show up in my dream?  Persephone.  That's right.  My cat that I have in real life, the same one who woke me this morning demanding I feed her despite her bowl still being half full of food, walks up to me in my dream and gives me lots and lots of cuddles.  I smile and cuddle her back.

And then I woke up.  Persephone wanted food.

So, that was a weird dream I had two nights ago.  It was weird, but then so am I.  It wasn't nearly as vivid as other dreams I've had.  The three that I can recall right off the bat all involved dragons.  In the most recent dragon dream, an enormous red dragon was attacking my kingdom.  I was a prince.  Yup, for the first time ever that I call recall, I gender-swapped in a dream.  My dream self is almost always female.  Not this time.

Anyway, I have a feeling that I often dream strange dreams, I just don't always remember them.  In this case, the thing I remember best was seeing Kelly and Daniel in my dream, the layout of the single room shack and the fact that Persephone came a-visiting me in my dream to cuddle me.

What about you?  Have you had any really weird dreams you would like to share with the world?

I have to go learn more Welsh now.  Here is a pretty, very appropriate picture:

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

So a few days ago I read THIS blog post by writer and publisher Hayden Trenholm, which was a response to THIS article, which lists a bunch of behaviours that 'real writers' typically exhibit.  Hayden's gripe with the article was that much of what it purported 'real writers' did or were like just didn't ring true for him... Thus he apparently isn't a 'real writer', despite actually having written and have had published a lot of stuff.  He, of course, was being facetious.  Of course he's a real writer.

He has a point, though.  Too often I see articles explaining what 'real writers' do; how they think and act, and what, precisely, it is that makes them 'real writers'.  Where does that leave people who don't behave that way?

What, dear readers, is a real writer?

Are you ready for the revelation of what a real writer is?  What it is a real writer does?  Are you sure you can handle this super-secret mysterious truth about writers?  Are you really, really ready?

Then read on.

Ahem.

noun  /ˈrī-tər/

1. One who writes.

There we go.  There you have it.  That's it.  The end.

Were you expecting something grand?

That, I think, is part of the problem.  There is this bizarre mystique surrounding writing and writers, as if we were a special class of citizen, something human yet also transcendent of humanity.  Does that sound as ridiculous to you as it does to me?  Yes?  Good!

Writers, I'm not ashamed to say, are just ordinary folk.  We're no different from plumbers or carpenters, 
painters, builders, clerks or lawyers.  We ply a trade, we have a craft.  Our trade is entertainment, our imagination, our craft is writing.  Just because our craft happens to be some sort of skill with words (most of the time... man there is some terrible dreck out there) doesn't make us some strange class of mystical being.  They're just words.  We're just people.

There are writers, I am sure, who have tried hard to cultivate their ivory towers; their petal-strew pedestals.  Fuck those people.  Writers are just people, with all the quirks, flaws and potential as any other person.

Some of us are horribly shy, or not just at all, just very introverted.  Some of us are wild extroverts, and adore attention.  They will happily perform a strange dance in a market square in order to sell their wares.  Some of us are raging alcoholics.  Some are utter teetotallers.  Some of us find our inspiration in the works of others; be they screen plays, television shows, or other novels.  Some of us find inspiration in the strangest places - a horse did something humorous, and suddenly there is a story.  Some of us work really hard to figure out what to write about.  Some of us don't really have a problem with getting the words out.  Some of us really, really do.  Most of the time, it's a odd combination of the two.

Do you see what I'm getting at?  No list of attributes will never cover what a 'real writer' is or does.  It simply cannot.  Writers are a varied bunch because there is only one qualifier for being a real writer:

Writing.

Now, please note that there is a vast different between being a real writer and being a good writer.  They are not synonymous and, like any other trade or craft, there are those who do it far better than others.  Yet even the terrible writers are still real writers.  They're just terrible.

Putting ourselves up in some ivory tower, or on a pedestal, or otherwise separating us from the rest of the populace as something special might feel great for a bit, but I believe it is ultimately damaging.  For starters, if people don't view us as any other craftsman; as the carpenters of words, the plumbers of stories, etc, then they may feel that we are less deserving of our pay.  Being a writer is special and that should be payment enough!

*cough* Bullshit *cough*

It also leads, in my belief, to celebrity syndrome, when our personhood is directly compromised.  We chose to be writers.  We chose to put our work out there in public... And suddenly we find our right to privacy ignored, our personhood called into question.  We're treated as commodities the way that celebrities are.  Being a writer is so special, writers are no longer considered persons, with all the rights that accompany personhood.

Granted, that is just a major personal fear of mine - that my privacy would be denied to me if ever I succeed in a massive way.  Still, I can see it happening more and more to writers, and it scares the crap out of me.

So, if ever you're reading a list of things writers do or are, and as a result you find yourself doubting your place as a writer, you need only remind yourself that you write.  And that is enough.

Good morning, Readers!

Yesterday was a great start to the week.

I went through my Welsh lessons relatively well, though there have been some changes to what the lesson has taught.  A good friend of mine is from north Wales and disagreed pretty strongly with a structure, so I had made a conscious effort to say it differently when listening to the lesson.  Other than that, it went pretty well.

Beta reading also went well, in that I did what I was supposed to and got one chapter of each manuscript all done.  I sent off one chapter to one author... and didn't do the same for the other.  I'm just going to send his edits all in one block.  There actually aren't that many so far.

This is nothing surprising.  I have managed this since I started Beta Reading properly.  What was really awesome was that I managed to get back to writing Daughters of Britain and I did awesome... If I do say so myself.  By awesome, I mean that I managed to get my daily word count goal.  I wrote two thousand words yesterday.  Whether they're a good two thousand words is another story, but it doesn't matter!  It's a first draft!  They're always shit!

Ahem.

So I'm pretty pleased with myself, writing wise.  I do hope that I'll be able to replicate it today.

But goodness I feel busy for the first time in ages.  Like, stressful busy.  It's probably a good thing, really.  It'll keep me on my toes and give me zero excuses for goofing off.

Keeping up with the theme of the day, I went to training with heaps of energy, and I did pretty well.  My evening run wasn't so good, as my lungs are still not functioning at fully capacity.  Still, I ran the entire "mission" of Zombie's Run (for those who know, it was Holding Out for a Hero mission from season two) without stopping, and I even managed a fast lap with a sprint at the end.  I was very slow, however, and didn't even hit the four kilometre mark.  Oh well.  I can't always be great.

Tonight is my first night back at weight training in two weeks (assuming J.K. is in tonight.  He might not be).  I ache a little from yesterday, so we'll see how that goes.  I hope I haven't taken any backwards steps due to my time off.  I was so close to a pull up last time!

Everything is back to routine, and so is bound to be incredibly boring to read about.  I'll try and come up with something more interesting for tomorrow's blog post.  Until then, have fun!

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Today in the Magic Thermos™:  Nothing.  Ugh!  I'm sorry!  And the Amazing Flatmate had bought some awesome new coffee I wanted to try.  I should have set everything up last night, but I got caught working late... because I spent time watching a five part documentary about a 13th century style castle being built in France... WITH 13TH CENTURY TECHNOLOGY!  It's a thing that is happening as I type.  It was so fascinating, before I knew it I had spent five hours watching this thing.

So I failed in my coffee duties.  Again.

So... This weekend was good.  First of all, I am finally recovered from the flu from hell.  Mostly, There are some residual symptoms, but they're not all that bad.  I'm felt rested (finally) and had energy enough for life.  So, naturally, I heaped more on my plate than I already have.

I am a sucker for punishment.

Ahem.

Introducing *drum roll* Gwenllian's Story!

It's a free story being put onto Wattpad.com.  So far, I only have the foreword up, but if you are so compelled, you may read it HERE.

What is Gwellian's Story?  Well, it's the serialisation in story form of the role playing campaign I am currently playing.  I'm playing with a group of really awesome folk, including my good friends Jen and Eric from JenEric Designs.  My character is, unsurprisingly, Gwenllian.

Gwenllian, who insists everyone just call her Gwen (because no one can say her name correctly, damn it!), is an Elf girl who was abandoned by her parents in a small town.  Raised by poor parents and orphaned at a young age, she joined a group of street kids and did what she needed to do to survive; petty theft, pan-handling/begging, pickpocketing and taking the odd job for a reward here and there.  She's not very tall, despite being Elvish.  Malnourishment will do that to you.  She wears her dark hair in a short Mohawk, has nut brown skin and very green eyes.

With the very kind permission of our excellent DM and overlord, Joelle, as well as the other players, I have been granted permission to turn the campaign into a story.  As I am playing from Gewn's perspective, I will be writing from Gwen's perspective, only revealing things about the other characters as they are revealed to mine in game.

This requires careful note-taking while in game, which can be tricky.

I have already begun writing it, doing so immediately after our gaming session Saturday.  We've only played two sessions, and so far I've had a tonne to write about.  I wrote just over 3 600 words Saturday evening, and the first gaming session hasn't even been laid out in full yet.  I may have to break it up into two or so chapters.  I'll decide once I finish writing out the first gaming session.  Then I'll post it up chapter by chapter (or all together if it's not enough to divide up).

A lot happens in a single gaming session, apparently!

I should warn you, posting of the story is contingent upon our gaming sessions and, thanks to everyone being as busy as frak, they don't happen all that often.  That said, I should have the first bit all written out and posted in a fortnight.  It's fairly low priority for me, since I have so many other projects on the go.

I do this to myself.

Speaking of being busy, I have my Welsh lessons to be getting on with, so I'm off to get that done.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Today in the Magic Thermos™: Nothing.  Again.  I'm sorry.  I just couldn't pull myself out of bed until the last minute this morning.  I'm typing with my eyes shut right now I'm so tired.

I just opened my eyes.  No errors!  Yay for touch typing skills!

There really isn't that much news to deliver this morning.  I'm still recovering from the flu thing I had.  Right now it's in the swollen but not painful throat, blocked ears and fatigue stage.  I will be happily going to bed very early tonight.

I did, however, manage to finish the second round of edits for Human and sent it off to Beta Reader Two.  He has graciously accepted it and I should get the manuscript back by the middle of May or so.  By then, hopefully, I'll have finished writing Daughters of Britain.  I'm looking forward to getting stack back into that story today.  If I make it through to this afternoon without passing out.

I'm really tired.

Also, this is related to nothing at all, but you know you've had a cold winter when you wake up and check the weather and seeing minus eighteen Celsius actually puts a smile on your face.  It's warming up!  Yay!

Right back to writing news.

I have decided that I do like Human.  It's a good tale and I'm now really looking forward to releasing it this year.  As usual, it will be released on Hallowe'en.  Gods I love Hallowe'en.

I'm now very interested in what Beta Reader Two has to say.  That, however, will have to wait, as I have two manuscripts to Beta Read and one to write.  I should be getting on with it.  First, though, it's Welsh lessons.  Here is a pretty picture:

Right, I'm off to work.  Or sleep.

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers!

Today in the Magic Thermos™: nothing again.  I had every intention of making coffee this morning, but ended up sleeping in a little too late to get it done.  In my defence, I coughed a lot last night.  I'm really tired this morning.

Yesterday was, despite my complaining, quite productive.  I did really well in my Welsh lessons and I've almost finished editing Human for the second time.  I may just get to send it off to Beta Reader Two this week.  Finger's crossed!

I keep bouncing between thinking this story is meh to thinking that it's actually pretty good.  I can't decide.  Yesterday I posted that I think I might actually like this story. This is true.  It's actually quite a good story... so far.  It might turn out to be disappointing after all, but so far, having been away from the story a while, it's been quite entertaining.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to feedback from Beta Reader Two who, like myself, just really isn't into vampire stories all that much.  His perspective will be really interesting.  A bonus with editing this manuscript is that I'm not nearly as attached to it as I am to The Great Man, which I will be working on rewriting after I finish writing Daughters of Britain.  That means I am not quite so precious about criticism as I might otherwise be (though I do try hard to hide my preciousness.  Seriously, constructive criticism is so important).  Hopefully that will translate into much stronger writing all 'round.

So yeah, I'm mildly impressed with the story thus far.  I don't know why this would surprise me, after all, I wrote the damned thing.  Still, I'm mildly impressed with myself.  I think it's because of all the crappy vampire stories I've read (back when I wanted to get into the genre but... ugh... no).

I am, as I wrote yesterday, incredibly busy.  I am currently Beta Reader for two other authors.  I've been struggling with a way to balance editing for others and keep up with my own work, so I think I might juggle it this way:

First, edit a chapter a day for author one; edit Human for the rest of the work period until Human is finished.

Next, edit a chapter a day for author one, a chapter for author two, write Daughters of Britain for the rest of the work period until edits for author one are complete.  This will, alas, cut into my daily word count, but at least I am still writing.

Next, edit two chapters a day for author two, write Daughters of Britain for the rest of the working period.

Continue until one is finished, spend the remaining time focussing on whichever one is left to complete until complete.

Then I have to figure out a new schedule because I will be rewriting one book, editing another for release (the Your Very Own Adventure project needs some serious editing before I let that one out into the wild), and probably wresting with a new story idea (I feel the seeds of one floating in my brain).

Gah!  So busy!

Since that is the case, I really need to be getting on with work.  Here is an awesome picture:

Ciao!

Good morning, Readers.

Today in the Magic Thermos™: nothing.  I was too lazy to make coffee this morning.  I'M SORRY!  I will do better tomorrow.  I hope.

Well... this weekend was... a thing.  It was hell, is what I'm trying to say.  Absolute hell.  I spent all three days of the long weekend in bed, not moving.  Yup.  Still sick.  I thought I was on the mend by Wednesday of last week.  Not so!  It was so bad, I had to cancel all of my plans.  Saturday, I had the opportunity to go see Kingsmen with good friends.  I really wanted to go.  I couldn't.  I went out for an excursion of a different kind and returned home so exhausted I couldn't bring myself to crawl out of bed again.  Sunday was going to be the day I went grocery shopping because I have literally no food at the moment.  That didn't happen.  I couldn't move.  I stayed in bed and slept.  A lot.  Monday I was supposed to brunch with my family and then in the evening have my monthly meetup.  Neither happened.  And for those of you who know, skipping on family things is a big deal for me.  And I feel really guilty for cancelling the meet up.  Ugh!

I seem to be on the mend now, though (so I say).  Except for the colossal headache and the vague, dreamlike haze that surrounds everything.  i doubt I'll be getting much work done today, but I'm at work all the same.

About my excursion on Saturday that left me exhausted beyond belief.... it wasn't the excursion that did it.  It was the fact that I have gotten out of bed at all.  Still, it was all worth it.  Why?  Because this girl has a new tattoo!

This is my second tattoo, and, assuming all things go well in life, it won't be my last.  I have four more planned.  Unless things change, I'll only have six tattoos in total.

But about this one, since I will invariably get questioned on it...

If you recognise the script, you are a bloody hero... and a gamer, no doubt.  The script is 'Draconic' and it's from the game I'm obsessed with.  That's right.  It's from Skyrim.  There were several scripts I was debating between.  Of those, Draconic and Tengwar (Tolkien's Elvish script) were at the top.  Alas, my love for all things dragon - even if just video game dragon - won out and I decided on Draconic.  It's a cool-looking script.

The word itself is "Calon."  Hang on! Draconic doesn't have a 'C', say the people who are as geeky as I. It does... sort of.  The 'C' in calon is a hard sound; more commonly written as 'k' in English.  So people not in the know would probably hear the word and write 'kalon.'  Draconic does have the hard sound, translated most commonly to 'k'.  Since I'm dealing with symbols, the sound is what is important.  Now that I've explained the spelling, let me explain the word.

It is Brythonic, which is to say, it belongs to the p-Celtic group of languages - Welsh, Gaulish (extinct), Cornish (revived), and Breton.  It literally translates to 'heart' but is used to mean courage.  It is also connected to the root that means 'hard' or 'tough' (caled, in Welsh - Wnes i weithio'n galed heddiw; I worked hard today).

Courage, to me, is the highest of attributes.  It is something I greatly respect and something I aspire to.  But what about kindness, compassion, love?  Yes, these are all fine attributes, but they are meaningless and worthless if one does not have the courage to act upon them.  Unfortunately in this world, it takes courage to be openly compassionate and kind.  It takes courage step in and stop a bully beating on another.  It takes courage to speak out against (your own?) government.  In many places, compassion is criminalised.  It takes courage to show it.  As for love, ask the LGBTQ community how much courage it takes to show theirs.

I'm not trying to sound my own horn here, but courage is the only thing that got me to where I am today.  It's much easier now, but I cannot tell you how much courage it took for me to get out of bed every day until quite recently.  It was the word I would repeat to myself before stepping out of the house and into the world.  Some days, I still do so.  Some days I need reminding.

I've been toying with the idea of this tattoo for years.  This wasn't a spur of the moment thing.  Like the dragon that sits on my right shoulder, it is something that means a great deal to me and something I've thought long and hard about before getting.

There are many people who don't like tattoos at all.  That's fine.  You do you.  But I don't want to hear about it.  I think tattoos are beautiful and interesting.  It's alright if the exact opposite is true for you.  I don't care.  I'll be over here, loving the skin art.

Granted, I have taken into consideration future employability.  The tattoo sits on my forearm, high enough to be easily covered by any long sleeved blouse or a blazer/jacket.  It is easy to hide, like my dragon.  In fact, all of my planned tattoos will be easily hidden from people with prejudices.

So, here's a question, Readers, of those of you who might consider getting a tattoo, what would you get and why?

On today's agenda, get back on track with my Welsh lessons.  Get back on track with editing Human, get back on track Beta Reading for my Mum (who is also an awesome writer, you can find her stuff HERE).  I need to finish that stuff, because I promised to Beta Read for someone else and need to get that done promptly.  With so much on my plate, I can't get to it just yet, and I really want to.

Gah!  So much work for my exhausted, aching brain.  I should go get another coffee and get to work.

Ciao!