Deadly deadlines

Hmmm, having the deadline brought forward by two months --does it concentrate the mind or create real snivelling, wake up at three twenty AM panic? Both.
Does it stop you having a life, put friends on the 'must remember to call, email, text list'? Yes indeedy.
Does it make one reach into the deep and dangerous and shock-and-hurt-yourself-pain-place, to find the heart of the matter, to write, write, and write? That too.

And today it's raining -- that helps.

But the most help, is outside help, from a trusted teacher. In Viet Nam, teachers are revered. Teachers Day is a huge event, especially for flower sellers. My office was once so packed with flowers I could barely breath as the pollen sent me sneezing, eyes streaming, but smiling in gratitude to all the students and staff.
In this culture it does not have to be a  teacher as in school teacher,  but a person who has given wisdom or advise, helping you in a way you remember and value. You in turn remember that person, honour them on teacher's day. My list of wise teachers is long, very long.

Vis a vis deadlines however, Jan Cornall, The Writers Journey is the woman. On my fourth book? Three published and modestly successful? Yep and yep. So why do I need a writing coach? I don't. I need a mistress of pain (50 shades reversed? Now there's thought)

Enter Jan Cornall. Her Avoidance Busters Manual was first stop. Read it, makes lots of sense. Tried it. Still procrastinating. Need sterner stuff. Checked out the website again. Damn. No time for the wonderful journeys that worked so well before (Mekong writers, Luang Prabang last December) Time only for the BIG STICK

So now, after a consultation with Mistress Jan, I have a daily word count. Plus a weekly SKYPE call. All I have to do is 1500 words per day minimum, "easy' says Jan, plus revision, plus blog ---nah, forget the blog, and I need to shop eat swim read sleep --nah, can cut some of that out too --sleep probably. And shopping, and --never reading. Eating? swimming? living? breathing?

OOOPs, this doesn't count towards the count --procrastination creeping in again.

Aa' the best,


Làinte mhor a h-uile là a chi 's nach fhaic
(Good health to you every day I see you and every day I don't)


www.writersjourney.com.au/

Teachers, preachers, parking meters (with apologies to Bob Dylan)

Kerry Sackville, blogger high priestess, talked about blogging and...wow. Not only was she informative, funny, and searingly honest, she stuck to the point. 

You know that weird experience, the one where you read the blurb, pay your money, turn up to the talk/class/session and half the time is wasted on subjects that might be fascinating to the look-at-me questioner and all you want to do is shout, " We came here to listen to the speaker" or "Get to the point!"

And  Steven King, in his book "On Writing" which is essential reading for every would-be writer, has put to rest my wild idea I can become great. 

"If you're a bad writer, no one can help you become a good one, or even a competent one. If you're a good writer and want to become a great one, fuhgeddaboudit."

His theory is that, like genetically gifted catwalk models, there are some writers who are so sublimely gifted, even they don't know where it comes from. He goes on to describe his thoughts on how a good writer can become a really good writer. 

Saves me a lot of time and angst thinking I should write a small literary antagonized oeuvre which may sell 900 copies and be praised for ...well, the agony, just so I can say I can do something other than write popular mysteries. Bless him, saved me months and years of ...well, agony.

Preachers...and here I am thinking of my late Uncle Mac, minister in the Church of Scotland and lovely man. From gifted  preachers you can learn rhythm. And the rhythm of how people speak can say more about your character than any adjective. Read Elmore Leonard if you don't believe me. Or listen to the Big Labowski. Or Dr King. Or Obama. 

As for parking meters...take the bus, the train, a tuk-tuk.  As a writer you  learn more about people when taking public transport than any other way I know of. Eavesdropping is good, but wear dark glasses as eyes betray the listener.Especially good is the train from Sydney to Newcastle where everyone seems to be on the phone, sublimely unaware of the writer memorizing the best of lines..."He said, 'You came into this marriage with a suitcase and that's all you'll leave with.' But its been twenty seven years, I'll need more than one."

Walking is good too. Saves money, saves your back, reminds you what fresh air tastes like.

Aa the best