Like putting my hand down an insinkerator

I just made my first submission to a magazine.  It cost me $6.40 and I had to scull a bucket load of insecurity.  Now on to dinner.  Smoked salmon and rice tastes good. Cashews too.

Tomorrow, if I have recovered, I will work more on my Labyrinth submission.

The year that was.

Talking with my sister tonight reminded me that it's been about a year since I dived back into writing... and Vert Glace is still not done.  :(  I remember the bliss of taking a month's holiday where I spent almost every day writing from morning to night.

June to September 2013 was a shaky time in my life.  I realized that though I loved my work, certain environmental elements made it impossible for me to be completely present with my clients.  This was unfair for them, and downright depressing for me.  Though psychology is just a day job for me, it's still a day job that I take great pride and care in.  I don't think that my work suffered during that time (thank goodness), but I certainly did.  Looking back at how unhealthy I was back then still makes me shudder.

The unintended side effect of my unhappiness was that I drove myself harder with my writing.  In a few short months, I had written 100 000+ words of Lordchaser, Vert Glace's sequel.  I also edited the first draft after feedback from my friends, and realized that I needed a second draft.  Participating in Labyrinth's writing contests also provided a productive escape from reality.  

Taking a new job and moving away from everything I knew was a decision I didn't make lightly.  I even did a pros and cons list for each of my options!  I had the chance to stay in Brisbane as I was offered another job.  but I realized that the only real reason to stay in Brisbane was because it was safe - I had my friends and family close, and I was living with my one true love.  And if I wanted growth, if I wanted change, if I wanted clarification of who I am as a person, then I couldn't just cling to safe.  

A month without (much) internet in October helped me along even more.  I started to find a balance between work, writing, and other living activities.  Walks on the beach is good for the soul.  Thanks Mark Twain.  

My writing's slowed a lot this year.  I wonder if it's because my life is going well, so I don't throw myself into it as much.  Though less productive, I'm pretty sure this is healthier.  I still have the goal of writing something this year that I can query a literary agent with (come on, Vert Glace.  Pull yourself together).  I am aware that the midpoint of the year is approaching fast, and time is like sand through a sieve.  I'm determined to reach it. 

And I have to pause and just acknowledge how much my life has changed since last May.  I've changed jobs.  My partner and I have taken our relationship to the next step.  I'm living alone for the first time (who needs housemates?).  I rarely use my car, I walk to work, but if I have to commute, it is less than 5 minutes drive.  I've bought a house.  I write almost everyday.  And here's the count so far:

Vert Glace - 80k, currently in 2nd draft.

Lordchaser - 100k, almost finished first draft.

Sasha's Stories - 70k, finished and posting on fictionpress.

Shadechasers, 12k+, in progress and posting on fictionpress.

Librarian - 9k+, finished and posting on fictionpress

Numerous short stories - 7k+ together

:)  A part of me thinks that this is too good to be true. 

 

It didn't explode

Well, well, well.  Called up removalists for Saturday and my brain remained unexploded.  Guess my feelings were wrong.

Fyloe's put the next writing contest prompt up.  It looks interesting, but I'm moving this weekend, so I don't know if it's wise to bust my gut writing something.

Pft.

I'm probably going to write something.

Being an adult sucks: Part 2

If I have to organize anything else to do with the new house, my pea sized brain will explode.

Well, it won't.  I'm sure I'll continue on just fine.  

But it feels like it will explode!!!

When can I get back to walking home from work and doing nothing but write?

I've kept up with my posting schedule for Heart of Fin and Librarian.  Barely.  The old itch of readers reading but not reviewing is still there, but I suppose you get use to it.  I haven't written anything decent this week, and it doesn't look like next week will be much better.  I've also told my landlord that I'll be out of this current place by the end of May.  Despite my attempts to live simply, I've somehow managed (again) to accumulate stuff.  Mostly books, but some notebooks and bits of paper too.  So moving is going to be lamprey-level sucky.

On top of that, for some stupid reason, I agreed to do a day's work with adolescents on Saturdays.  Well, it's not a stupid reason... I do like working with young people, and this region is desperately in need of more practitioners...

But it's six day work weeks from here on out.

I have the goal of writing something that I think is good enough to query a literary agent with by the end of this year.  I'm pretty sure I'll be ok if I can fix up Vert Glace by September.  ...but blerg.  

Awkward Racism Phone Call

Her:  Hello (insert name of location) hospital emergency department.

Me:  Hi, this is Augustus from (insert company name).  I'm inquiring about free services for one of my clients.  He's got no identity documents, so he can't apply for a Medicare card at the moment, but I have some concerns about his health, in particular, pain pertaining to a neck injury.  I was just wondering if the hospital would see him?  He doesn't have money to pay for medical fees.

Her:  What do you mean, he doesn't have identity documents?

Me:  Well, his birth certificate got burnt in a fire.  We're in the process of re-applying for one, but I'd like him to see a doctor as soon as possible.

Her:  *laughs exasperatedly*  Where are his documents?  He would need them to open a bank account.  He'd need them to get a driver's licence.  When did he lose his documents?

Me:  About 10 years ago.

Her:  Well, he would have needed his documents.  He'll need them to get a Medicare card.  He'd need to be registered with Medicare for seeing a GP.  He'd need documents to rent and pay his accounts.  What has he been doing?

Me: ...uh, well, he hasn't seen a GP in 30 years and he's homeless.

Her:  Is he an Australian?  Has he been in this country all his life?  Like, is he a true aussie?

Me:  Yes.

Her:  Is he an aussie?  Is he one of us?

Me: ...yes.  I believe that he has been in Australia his whole life.

Her:  He's not from oversees?  Does he have an accent?

Me:  No.

Her:  Well, it would depend on who he saw when he came here.  He won't be refused service, but it would depend on who saw him, whether they decided to charge.  Tell him to come on over.  He won't be refused service.

Me:  Thank you very much for the information.

Her:  Pass on my best wishes to him, ok?

Me:  Ok, thank you.

Black Lagoon and growing up

I'd forgotten how pointlessly violent and how try-hard bad ass this anime was.  I'm not hating, merely stating.  It's amazing what growing up does to a person.

I've recently acquired my first property, a quiet townhouse two streets back from the beach.  My partner and I have called it Atrium.  It's pretty sweet.  I can't believe the bank trusts me enough to lend me hundreds of thousands of dollars.  Of course, I didn't tell them about that incident last month where I almost starved because I prioritized collector's edition rum (no joke.  Rum's gotten fancy) over groceries.  It has high ceilings, white walls, and weird gaps between the wall and ceiling of two bedrooms that makes the whole place more open than I prefer...

But  back to the point of growing up.

I think my teenage self would deliver a swift kick to my older self's backside for not immediately attacking the walls with sample pots of paint.

Ten years ago, I would have died at the opportunity to own my own place because I could put up whatever I bloody wanted on the walls!  Better yet, I could paint what I bloody wanted straight onto the endless white canvas!

Now, I'm thinking that I'll need to rent this thing out in 2 years and so if I deface it, I'm only going to have to get someone to repaint it.

Damn.  I totally get Peter Pan's deal now.