The Fine Art of Squirrel Navigation

Spring has sprung here in sunny Tasmania so Paula and I decided it was time for a touristy trip. We thought it would be nice to go South along the East coast as we've only ever gone North so far, to St Helens and The Bay of Fires.

I should point out here what we call "Squirrel Navigation" and how it came into being. Last year we saw an animated movie called "Up". Very funny, even Paula enjoyed it and she's not normally into animation. At one point in the movie a dog wearing a collar with a flashing light bounds up to our hero and speaks. It says "Hi, I'm speaking to you through this collar that my master made -squirrel- Hi I'm speaking...." he said squirrel in the middle of his sentence as he saw one out of the corner of his eye and it distracted him, then returned to what he was saying before... much funnier in film than in type. Anyway, we decided to adopt and modify the idea for our own use. Squirrel navigation as we call it consists of having a rough destination in mind but being prepared to be distracted by anything that looks interesting. While on a squirrel hunt (no squirrels are harmed in the making of these trips) either one of us can call "squirrel" at which point we deviate from our course and investigate our newly found distraction before we return to our original course.

So, this squirrel hunt took us through St Marys and down to the coast via Mount Elephant Pass, through a town called Bicheno and on to Coles Bay on the Freycinet Peninsula. The Coles bay turnoff was our mutual squirrel call. Freycinet is an amazing place. Pink granite mountains, pristine bushland, crystal clear (freezing cold) sparkling water. We stopped and had an incredible lunch at Freycinet Lodge, I heartily recommend it.

On the other side of the mountains from Freycinet Lodge is Wineglass Bay, a place we've been meaning to see since before we came to Tassie. Sadly it was too late in the day for much in the way of bushwalking, so it'll have to wait till another day.

After lunch, we set off on a squirrel within a squirrel trip out to Cape Tourville lighthouse. By the time we'd done with the lighthouse walk, the light was failing so it was time to start heading back.

We had originally intended to come back via Lake Leake, but saw another squirrel before we got there. A minor road leading straight back to our home town of Avoca via a small "town" near here called Royal George. Small it was. It made Avoca seem like a bustling metropolis and that's not easy to do. Getting there was interesting. Thirty odd kilometers of old coach track. Corrogated gravel and dirt road, mostly up hill. Not the most comfortable or safest feeling drive I've been on in our Suzuki designed for city use.

Rest Day

I had a rest day from my exercise program today due to my injury from yesterday. Basil somehow managed to survive without his three daily walks. I did make sure to play "Where're the Sheep" lots with him. It's a game we play. I look at him and say 'where the sheep' he then races off to the back lot and runs up and down the fence line trying to heard the sheep in the next door block. He gets very excited about it all. He's even invented his own form of obstacle course to run while he's doing it, not all on the fence line with the sheep either, a great deal of criss crossing is involved, very intricate at the end of the run he charges into the main part of the backyard and props his front paws up on the wooden fence to peer over. When he comes barrelling past me at full tilt it sounds like a horse at a full gallop.

I had to go into Lonny again today to visit a client. I've set up remote access software on their system now, so I'll be able to help them allot quicker than the hours drive would normally allow. May well have picked up a new client in the form of the service station attendant I bought fuel from too. The new client called me on my mobile phone as I was paying for the petrol and the woman behind the counter asked a few questions resulting in my handing her a card.

Paula decided to come to town with me too. She wanted to look into getting a replacement vacuum cleaner as our old one has just about karcked it. While we where in Hardly Normal we decided to check out the sleep number beds. We've been meaning to look into them for a couple of years now and never got around to it till now. FANTASTIC is about all I can say. It turns out they're air mattresses, one bladder to a side individually adjustable with a mini compressor to control how hard or soft it is. Genius. The more advanced (and significantly more expensive) models also have all sorts of tilt controls and built in massage features. Very expensive bit of kit, but they are warranted for twenty years, meaning they'll probably last us a good deal longer than that. They may well be the last beds we need to buy, so well worth the investment... when we have the funds to invest.

We're trying a new diet plan this week. It's heaven. Roast Lamb with veggies and Rhubarb and custard for dessert tonight. I don't often get Rhubarb as Paula doesn't like it. One of my favourites from childhood, I have it every time I can.

Trucky Ducky

I found out today why the ducks have been on the non-river side of the road lately. When Basil and I got there this morning, a logging truck was pulled up (engine still running) and the truckie was out feeding the ducks bits of bread.

When we got back from that walk I went out into the back yard to check on Basil's progress with his excavations. The hole he got the Christmas antlers out of is bigger, but there's no sign of anything untoward in there thank goodness. I took the opportunity to carry on with my anti-thistle war. I think I'm finally winning that as there don't appear to be any more outbreaks, so now it's just a matter of me having time to pull up all the current crop. At least until next spring, but lets not think about that for now.

I pulled a muscle in the run portion of my last walk today. Guess I'll have a rest day tomorrow and hope one day's enough to get me back on my feet for the walks. I don't want to take too long off as I've been losing weight and gaining fitness quite well of late.

Happy Little Vegemite

Basil's been getting bored with his dry food lately. He'll leave his breakfast in his bowl till late afternoon before he gets down to it. Paula put some Vegemite toast and an egg in there the other day and he seemed to appreciate the added variety, so today while making my own breakfast, I cut up a slice of Vegemite toast to add to his bowl too. Instant success, seems it's much more interesting with the addition.

We made it to Lonny today thankfully. The cupboard had been fairly bare. We got some flour directly from the flour mill in town too, excellent stuff. I'm sitting wearing another of our purchases from today too. The single most comfortable dressing gown (or bath robe as Paula calls them) I've ever owned. Picked up a suit today too, for surprisingly little cost. I haven't worn a suit since march 2008, so it's going to be a little odd, but it's not as though it'll be getting a major workout, just the odd wear here and there. Sadly, I'm not an easy man to fit, so it doesn't completely match, the only pants of my size where black, the only jackets navy, but a very dark navy. Paula mistook it for black in fact till we held the jacket and pants together, but it's not too bad a match.

Basil and I took a slight deviation to our late afternoon walk today. Instead of turning right when we get to the picnic ground and following St Paul's river down to the Esk river bridge, we turned left and walked under the esk highway bridge over St Paul's river. Till we came across a log that had fallen over the path. It was only about 40 or 50 cms high, but Basil didn't want to cross it, so we turned around and went down to the Esk river before going back home. I guess it's a good thing Basil doesn't like crossing barriers like that or he'd have been over our back fence and among the next door neighbours sheep long ago. He'd be more than capable of making the jump, he's a fairly big dog, strong and fast too.

Lexi has been loving the fire, though I don't think she realises that's why the TV room is suddenly so much warmer. She'll come and get me out of the office if I dare stay past five o'clock so she can curl up on my feet or in the crook of my leg as I spread out on the couch. My mother would pay a small fortune for a cat that would sit on her feet, but then my feet aren't cold which is why cats want to sit on them. The Catch 22 of cats, people who want 'em to sit on them are cold, which is why cats wont do it, cats only like to sit on people who are warm.

Another thing we bought today in Lonny was a new tug-o-war toy for Basil. We've been looking for a pet store that stocks the Kong variety. We like the Kong toys because they're the only ones Basil can't seem to destroy... It took him five minutes to destroy his brand new indestructible toy. NOT HAPPY JAN. Paula has written an email off to Kong Co in the USA, we're not normally complainers of this type, but this was an exceptional circumstance.

I'd better go now, apparently the bed isn't warm enough... Lexi is walking over my keyboard.

Dug Up Weirdness

Basil's been digging up all sorts of strange things from the backyard since we got here. The latest is quite possibly the weirdest, even scariest so far. He's found a gold sequin covered pair of … how do I describe this... Christmas Antlers in a shallow hole he's dug in the middle of the back lot behind our main backyard, the bit that used to be a veggie patch but the same size as a normal suburban property. I'm beginning to get worried again about what else he may find, so I'm keeping a very watchful eye on any new holes he may create out there.

Paula and I started out towards Lonny today, but turned around about half way to the Midlands Highway due to the extreme winds. Our little car was being blown around all over the road, especially when a truck passed by going the other way at ludicrous speed for the conditions. We got in behind a campervan just before we turned around. It was a primary deciding factor, no way I wanted to be hit by bits of it as it broke up from being turned on it's side. We'll go tomorrow.

Basil spotted the ducks again on our second walk, they were already in the water so he just stood on the bank watching them for a while. He's not a great lover of the water. I introduced him to a local natural rock ocean pool back when we lived in Kiama (NSW) he jumped in to me, but panicked and scrambled out again as quickly as he could. He's not been back in the water since.

Duck Season

I'm doing three walks a day now with a run for some of the middle one. Basil is having the time of his life. Today he saw the local riverside duck family on the other side of the road to the river. He had a great time herding them into the water. It's beginning to feel a little like a Warner Bros cartoon, rabbits and ducks next I'll see Elmer Fudd sneaking up being vewy vewy quiet....

We got the fire going at long last tonight. Once the initial smoke cleared it was quite nice. The room heated up well and the whole family (cats, dog, Paula and I) spent a nice cosy evening bathing in it's gentle glow. Very therapeutic.

The writing has fallen behind this week because of other commitments, but they'll be over on the 5th of May, so should get back on track by then.

Stage Two Fitness

Well, it seems I've reached stage two ahead of schedule. Stage two in any fitness programme is where you're no longer sore, you're still fat, but the fitness is already becoming more apparent. You're more able to do things that would have been well beyond your capabilities before. Still not exactly what I'd call fit by any means, but on the way.

Basil saw a rabbit the other day while on walk three of the day. He's never seen one before so didn't entirely know what to do. The rabbit gave him a clue however. It took off into the bushes. Basil checked with me first, when I waved him in saying "Where's the rabbit?" he charged into the bushes after it, thinking he'd found a new playmate. Paula came with us on our third walk today, when we came to the place where we saw the rabbit, I said to Basil "Where's the rabbit?" again, he tore off into the bushes looking for his playmate again (no luck of course) very smart dog is Basil.

It's starting to get pretty cold now, most of the Autumnal leaves etc... are fading to brown already. Autumn doesn't last long here in Tassie.

Autumnal Splendour

I had a call out to Ross today. One of the prettiest towns it's ever been my good fortune to visit. A majority of the buildings on the main road through town are of historical interest being a concentration of some of the oldest still in use in Australia. There's an avenue of seasonal trees leading into town and at this time of year the effect is stunning. Gold and crimson mixing with the bright greens a veritable rainbow corridor welcoming you into town. Then you arrive in town to be faced with all the lovely stone buildings and English style trees you feel as though you've travelled in time and space to a town somewhere in the midlands of England in the mid 1800's or so. It almost seem incongruous to have been called there to fix a computer.

Basil is enjoying his two daily walks. He's going to absolutely love when I step it up to two walks and a jog. (In a week or so maybe...)

I've decided I'd rather just read Dantes Inferno (and maybe the rest of the divine comedy... maybe not) than listen to any more of this awful lecturer. He's pretty much decided me firmly against the idea of an Arts Degree after all, not if I have to deal with such incessant waffle. I'll keep an eye out for a copy on ebay or some such perhaps, a friend of mine said he had part of a recording of an audio book version, but doesn't know either if it's complete or where it is. I'd rather have the written form anyway. If it's half as good as it's reputation it'll earn it's place right next to my Tolkien collection in regular rotation for re-visitation.

First Stage Fitness

Any new fitness kick starts off with the same transitional phase. I'm in that phase now. Basically, you start out fat and unfit. Next, you're sore fat and unfit. Doesn't take long to get to phase one, first day is about par for the course. I woke up this morning unable to move my right arm at the shoulder and my left arm at the elbow. I decided rather than the run my new programme called on I'd walk the same distance twice, three times if I could muster up enough enthusiasm... twice it was. Basil loved the extra walk. I had a nice long soak in a hot bath when I got back, and that combined with the miracle of Methyl Salicylate meant I could at least gain some mobility in my arms again, though I still can't lift my right arm even to shoulder height. Serves me right too! Yesterday I did 48 push ups... well, okay 46 the last 2 where so pathetic I can't really count them, but that's more push ups than I've done in a decade, maybe even two decades. To say I'll take it slower and ease into this now is an understatement. I still mean to go ahead, just at a pace more suited to my advancing years and receding hairline. Time to take warm ups and cool downs more seriously too.

AWAK Alert

I've sent off my latest updates for the belt wars story to my pre-editorial team. I'm not happy about the latest work I've done on it. I have a nasty feeling I'm breaking one of Carvers' cardinal rules: AWAK (As We All Know) it's a clumsy device to be avoided by all but the most clumsy of authors and as I've found out an easy trap to fall into. Basically put, the writer has their characters hold forth in unjustified exposition of information through dialogue, thus explaining what's going on or giving important background to the reader. The problem is, it gives the whole story a feeling of unreality, it can jar a reader out of the immersion in the story any good author strives for.

I had an extra long play session with Basil this evening in an attempt to tire him out. I thought at the time it was unlikely, he is part border collie after all. Much to my surprise it seems to have worked. Not long after we finished (he actually gave up before I did) he took himself off to bed and we didn't see him again till just before we retired for the night. He stumbled in to the office asleep on his feet. I've never seen him so groggy. Speaking of groggy, time I slipped off to bed myself. I started a new fitness programme today and I mean to stick to it, which means I've got a 1.5Km run to go on in the morning. Basil wont know what's hit him!

Ghost Town in the Sky

Very heavy mist this morning, seeping cold with it, but the day warmed up nicely when the mist cleared up... or was it the other way around? I finally met our local policeman this morning. While taking Basil for his walk, I noticed Sam (our policeman) unpacking his gear from his 4wd. He'd obviously just been out keeping our street safe from high speed interstate interlopers. I took Basil over and introduced myself. He seems a remarkably nice young bloke. Younger than I'd imagined from the talk we've heard. Kind of a poster-boy look about him, I could see his face on recruiting posters for the police force of old. Tall (almost as tall as me) and muscular, imagine his teeth glinting in a corny black and white movie as he closes in on the bad guys. A very old fashioned stereotypical country cop like when they had a requirement to be over six feet tall in order to join. Yet another odd way in which I feel we've stepped back in time in many ways moving to this town.

After consulting with our good friend google-maps, we determined that there are two ways to Ben Lomond from here. Both according to 'maps' should take around one and a half hours. If a road ran directly from here to there, it'd be about twenty minutes, half an hour tops, but that's the way thing go... "You can't get there from here." We decided to go one way and come back the other. Turns out what maps didn't tell us was that the way we went was almost half on logging roads. Lets just say it took longer than anticipated to get there and never speak of the route via Fingal again... ever. Well, okay one more thing about the approach... it was taking us so long and we hadn't seen any signs for so long that we decided we must have missed a turning, so we turned back and I went up to a house by the side of the road. As I walked around the back to the door a man who I assume was the occupant was disappearing over a hill behind the house on a trail bike with a rifle strapped to his back. The faint strains of Duelling Banjos echoing in my head as I came back to the car were dispelled by an approaching ute that I flagged down to ask directions. Seems we had been going in the right direction, if we'd only kept going another fifteen kilometres down the road we would have come back on to the main road. (The main road being the one we would have been on had we come the other way.)

The road up to Ben Lomond from the main road certainly had it's moments. Paula was terrified to the point of nausea. One part in particular had the road going up a virtual cliff face in a series of switchbacks with hairpin turns at every turn. This is a section of the road I believe the locals call Jacobs Ladder. Stunning views all along the trip, rainbows in rock as background to pristine pastures. Breathtaking. It'll be fascinating to see it in winter with snow there too.

We finally arrived at the alpine village that serves as the ski resort during winter. Desolate, stark rocks stabbing at the sky all around this isolated virtually deserted loose collection of unpainted uninviting buildings. The pub's for sale, along with the accommodation arm of that particular business. One of the other places that probably serves as a takeaway place in season only had half the sign up. There was a barracks like structure behind the pub to the south that looked as though it had a couple of people staying at the moment. Probably off season caretakers I imagine. The main hotel like accommodation was a grey concrete affair on the hill behind the pub. Holes in the concrete facing suggested it was either just recently redone or otherwise need to be redone before the season starts. Food prices at the pub were no big surprise, extortionate! Four dollars for a very ordinary pie that would be around two dollars in the average rip off service station, though frankly most service station pies are of a far higher standard than this sorry limp thing. At least they didn't charge extra for sauce.

Horrible Take Away

We went on our trip to St Helens today. A lovely drive, if a tad long and with some very windy bits as you come down from St Mary's. Paula got nauseous on the windy bit, both going down and coming back up. Sadly, no shop in St Helens had fireplace paraphernalia. Not too many shops where even open. Unfortunately for us, one shop that was open was a take away place called The Big something or other, bit or cafe or some such. Disappointing would be a mild way of phrasing the meal. Dreadful would be more accurate. My hamburger was clean at least, but uninspired. The chips tasted of fish... bad fish. Paula's seafood basket looked and smelled awful, and apparently didn't taste much better. Paula is getting tired of paying almost thirty dollars for poor quality food, then being expected to pay more for sauce! I just can't believe I've yet to find a takeaway shop anywhere in Tasmania that has hot chilli sauce. They all have sweet chilli, nobody here apparently (with the exception of yours truly) ever asks for the hot stuff.

We didn't get to Ben Lomond today as it would have been dark by the time we came down the mountain. Not a good idea for a place with roads of the quality we've been told to expect, especially as we've not seen them yet. Tomorrow for sure Paula says.

There was some sort of emergency going on down on the coast as we came back up to St Mary's. Three emergency vehicles passed by going down at a rate of knots. With that road, it's surprising they didn't come off and head down the fast way.

There was a lively fire at the Avoca tip as we got back to town too. It looked suspiciously deliberate as the council guy who supervises the tip on Saturdays and Wednesdays was locking the gate for his knocking off time as we went by and the fire was still well ablaze. By the smell of it, it wasn't just the wood and garden waste pile either, there was definitely plastics involved.

Daves Inferno... Almost

It finally arrived this morning. After four months of waiting we have a baffle plate in our fireplace. The real estate agent's handy man came by at 7:30am with the new part that's taken so long to arrive in hand... naturally it didn't fit. He did have an alternative one he keeps in the back of his ute which did. Of course this begs the question... if he's had this alternative one sitting in the back of his vehicle all this time, why didn't he try to fit it when he first diagnosed the problem in the first place??? To be fair, he replaced the fan unit in the fireplace too, but again, that was a standard part he had in his ute anyway. Now all we're missing in order to have a lit fire is fireplace paraphernalia, ie: a fire proof bucket, shovel, poker that sort of thing. We're off to get them from a Tasmanian discount chain called "Chicken Feed" on the morrow. Haven't decided if we're going to go to Lonny or St Helens, my vote is for St Helens, we haven't been there since December and Launceston is a regular trip for us. An added bonus to St Helens would be it's closer to Ben Lomond which I'm still keen to visit soon.

I've "spoken" ,well okay exchanged emails, with my chief pre-editor and agreed to a weekly deadline for submissions of revisions and additions. I think having a weekly deadline set to which I'm answerable to someone else will be good for me. It never really helped back in my school days, but that was then, this is now.

Basil managed to get himself two lots of dinner tonight, one from me at around 5:30pm, then again from Paula an hour later. He's been allot quieter tonight than normal, must be all the blood being called on to digest the extra large lump. Of course, it didn't stop him from begging for more from our dinner plates. For once, even Paula didn't give him any table scraps though.

I made lasagne tonight, something I've never done before. Turned out alright too. Especially considering the rather depleted state of the cupboards at the moment, no mushrooms for one thing. Sadly, that may well mean Lonny rather than St Helens for tomorrow after all. St Helens has an IGA, but they're more expensive and with more limited range than Coles or Woolies.

Dante's Lecture Purgatory

I've started the lecture series I downloaded from Yale University on Dante's Divine Comedy. Listening to it may not be quite hell, but it certainly feels like purgatory. I heard the eighteen minute introduction to it the other day and it did send me warning signals. Today's lecture was an hour... on a poem Dante wrote when he was seventeen. I've only made it through half so far and the lecturer only just read the thing. It was all of twenty or so lines. Sure, I recognise the importance of analysis for the classics, but I have to say easily ninety percent of what the lecturer has said so far was sheer unadulterated waffle. I mean an hour lecture on a twenty line poem, I ask you? He keeps interrupting himself and taking himself off on wild tangential asides... only to get further distracted and even more sidetracked. If this guy tried to make it in the science faculties he'd be drummed out so fast he'd still be asking why as his backside hit the pavement out front. There's a line from the original star wars movie, right towards the end said by a totally unimportant bit player, but would be a really good one for this lecturer to heed. "Stay on target."

We got our Tasmanian drivers licences in the mail today. It's official, Paula and I are Tasmanian now. I suppose we should do something to celebrate, maybe go for a drive up to Ben Lomond this weekend as we keep meaning to do before the snow comes. There's apparently a little ski slope up there in winter and it's less than an hours drive from here. The roads are very narrow we're told and could be a bit dicey if we haven't seen them sans snow first.

The Editorial Team Grows

I asked my friend from Sydney today if he and his wife (with whom I've been friends even longer than he) would be willing to join my pre-editorial crew. He said yes for himself and a most likely on behalf of his wife. I sent of a copy of Dream Stealers (with revised ending and a new title 'Dream a Little Dream' trust me, you'd understand if you read the new ending.) I'll send them the latest on the current work in progress on the morrow. I fell better about the project than I have in a while. With my editorial staff on hand, I have implied deadlines and expected work loads.

Had a lovely chat with the neighbours from over the back fence today. They proudly showed off the chook motel, a gargantuan free range chicken enclosure they've built to safely house their flock of over thirty chickens. We traded apples, some of our granny smiths for some of their red ones and a couple of their quinces. It seems they're very fond of watching Basil as he prances about our back paddock watching the sheep in the yard next to us. They can see his tail dancing around like a flag in the breeze.

I should be finished with the downloads of the Dante lectures tomorrow, so I'll start on them. I'm a little nervous I'll find the lecturers waffling style too irritating based on the intro I listened to, but maybe he'll settle down when he's actually discussing the text... I can only hope.

Animal Demands

As it gets colder, the whole family (the wife, 2 cats and dog) are getting grumpier and or more demanding. Paula sleeps till almost midday, then takes another nap in the afternoon, heaven help anyone who disturbs her. She makes fun of me saying it's cold, but I think it's her who's really feeling it. Basil insists on being taken for his river walk earlier and earlier in the day and wont stop chewing me throughout the rest of the day. Yes, I said chewing me. He uses a toy of his, or his blanky and comes over to me chewing it. He deliberately chews it on top of me so as to "accidentally" miss and chew me instead. It drivers me nuts. I'm not a dog person, and he's not doing anything to endear the species to me with this rough treatment. Paula's no help, she indulges his every whim. 'Awwww, isn't he cute the way he lunges at your face when you try to kiss me?' Lexi has taken to perching on the back of my neck for warmth. Neck/shoulder perching is not an entirely new behaviour for her, she's done it since she was a kitten, but is was always with an eye to get access to high up places otherwise out of reach before. Now, she'll sit there for an hour. This is about warmth. Loki is more clingy too, at least at night. I guess I shouldn't be surprised about the cats and dog, it's their first (and mine) truly cold autumn... wonder what winter's going to be like. Warmer inside at least I hope with a working fireplace any day now.

Not much to report on the writing front today, I'm trying out some techniques from the UK open Uni lectures I listened to yesterday, early days yet though.

iUniversity

Well, it had to happen really didn't it? Everything else these days has an 'i' in front of it (even Vegemite for a very short while) so why not tertiary education? Today I was updating my iPhone view iTunes on my PC and noticed a tab heading I'd not noticed before. "iTunesU" so, I decided to have a look, see if there where any freebies of any value available. Turns out there are a host of open university lectures available as pod-casts via iTunes. I've downloaded two so far, one from the UK open university program called "Start Writing Fiction" in 6 episodes, and another from Yale entitled "Dante in Translation". I've listened to all 6 of the UK eps and the first of the Dante so far. The UK one is excellent, if somewhat short. It's presented by published writers (none of whom I've heard of, but will look up now) of various genres. Dante is going to be a whole lot harder to listen to, the lecturer rambles aimlessly, and in heavily accented English... Italian I think (well, it would make sense) but the Divine Comedy is such an important work that's always fascinated me, so I'll take this opportunity to study it.

We should, hopefully, be getting our baffle plate for our fire place on Friday. When I told some of the locals today we still didn't have one, they were horrified. Allot of them seemed to think it amazing we haven't frozen to death yet. Just about every other house is now in full wood burning mode, but I have to say while it is cold, it's not life threateningly cold... yet. I would have thought Tasmanians would be more able to cope with the cold than me.

I submitted my edited version (with one extra paragraph) to my pre-editor tonight with one hour to spare on my self imposed deadline. Not something I was ever good at in school. I got high marks, but that was just from exams. Fundamentally, I was a lazy student, so if I even put in more than a half-arsed effort at an assignment, it was extremely rare for it to be handed in on time. Amazing how age gives a change of perspective. I feel allot better about the story and how it's going after both the feed back I got from the first draft, and from hearing yet more evidence from published authors (via the UK open university thingy) that's it's perfectly normal for an author to occasionally get nagging feelings of doubt and unworthiness. A few of them said, they never felt their own writing was any good till they passed it on to a trusted friend. I'm thinking of asking another friend (one I've actually met, unlike my current editor) to be a secondary pre-editor. It may be useful to get more than one perspective.

It's odd... I'm actually thinking of formalising the study I'm doing at the moment. Applying as a mature age student at a University as my wife has. The strangest thing about it is, I'm actually thinking of doing an ARTS degree. Me! The merest speculation never even considered the possibility of letting the thought cross my mind to do an arts degree back in the days of my youth. But then, really, what would I do with such a silly piece of paper. At least the course my wife is planning to do has potential earning capacity at the other end. For me, an arts degree would just be an expensive wall decoration, as would any degree for that matter. I don't need one to write, and I certainly don't need one to fix and build peoples computers. Computer Science graduates (with one notable exception) have always made by far the worst of any of my employees in the past. Something to toy with anyway, would be nice to have a degree I guess, even a "BA", everyone else in my family have uni qualifications. Kind of makes me the disappointing family embarrassment not to...

Politics

More has emerged in my Belt Wars story today about the political situation in the Belt. Dissatisfaction on the part of some of the smaller groups about being lorded over by the big two. At the same time, the big boys have seen this coming and have been building up “security forces” in secret. Question of course is... just who are the bad guys, the diplomats, or the secret security forces? Haven't decided... yet. I've also given the big guys a major leg up technology wise with their fancy new drive system. (Just backstory right now, but it'll seep through so the readers find out about it in the story soon enough.) So, I'm thinking that means I'll have to balance the scales a little... maybe a new weapons or armour/shields technology. I hadn't wanted to introduce forcefields as such to the belt wars universe, not until much later on at least, so maybe a weapon or targeting system of some sort. It'll have to wait till much later in the story either way.

At the same time, in sunny Tasmania, more about the political situation since the recent election has finally emerged. Of the 25 seats in parliament, ten each are now held by each of the two major parties, while the other 5 are in the hands of the new kid on the block. No one party has anywhere near enough to form government in it's own right, and the views held by each of the parties are too divergent for there to be any thought of formal coalition. So... the party that was in power, is staying... with the consent of the other two, both of whom has more or less agreed to at least not let the state grind to a halt through the inability to get any legislation through. There is talk (or at least one person has said it would be a good idea) to give a ministerial cabinet position to the leader of the smaller party as incentive to play ball. Seems the houses of parliament here in Tassie are even more like a school-yard than in the other states (or federal) with the popular/rich kids in one corner, the sporting types in another, and the geeks in the library tucked out of the way. So, as I see it, the sports guys have made a somewhat shaky truce with the geeks because they've both agreed the rich kids are too brainless/spineless to govern their way out of a wet paper bag. The geeks have agreed to help the sports guys do their homework and the sports guys have agreed not to beat the geeks up... for now.

Nose Firmly back on the Grindstone

It felt good to return to the project after nearly a months absence. I felt it hard to keep up my spirits for the whole thing in the face of the total lack of response from Aurealis. Looking at their website, it's beginning to look to me as though they may be going (or gone) out of business. The current issue (according to the site) is from August 2009. So, unless they're now an annual publication, things look grim. Oh... I just checked their back catalogue. To say they're an annual publication would be to imply a sense of order in publication dates. They seem to put out an issue about every 8 to 11 months on no discernible schedule apparent to casual perusal. While this doesn't help my feeling of impatience, it does make me feel a bit better about the potential for acceptance of my work. It looks as though they wait till they have sufficient material of high enough standard to publish. Given the infrequency of publication, I may not have all that much competition in this country. Question is... is that a good thing? It may mean that my work has a better chance of being published due to the scarcity of talent in this country. On the other hand, it may mean that the standards of acceptance are so high that the work of a starting out scribbler such as myself has no chance whatsoever of seeing the light of day. Guess I'll just have to wait the three months from submission time to find out... sigh.

I submitted the work in progress of my current Belt wars story to my favourite pre-editor today. Something I've avoided in the past as it never seemed right to show incomplete stories. It felt important to do it though to help me re-introduce a sense of urgency into the project. Seems I only work well when I have deadlines.

Speaking of deadlines... if I do manage to get this current story up to scratch before I hear back from Aurealis, seems I'm going to have to submit it to either an American or UK based mag as there's not much else here in Oz. I think it has the feeling more of an American kind of story really. Kind of like the difference between original Star Trek and early Doctor Who, the two markets just feel different to me in flavour and or essence. Australian Sci Fi (what little I've managed to find of it) has a distinctly different taste to either, especially American. Somehow the American product always seems more finished or do I mean processed? Big budget perhaps. While the British stuff always feels more backyard, knocked up in the potting shed or shot on site in an abandoned quarry sort of thing. The Australian authors that I've read and enjoyed always seem a little wilder somehow.

All these descriptions are of course generalisations and don't really make any sense in the context of written word, but do compare for example the work of Isaac Asimov with say Sir Arthur C. Clarke. Asimov's stories are all very well polished extremely well researched and with a rich unwritten back story that just oozes out between the lines. They do however all involve a certain required suspension of disbelief, of accepting new and previously unthought of possibilities, even almost "magical" technology such as "positronic brains". Asimov never even attempts to explain to the reader any of this wonder tech, it's just there as a background fact of his story. Clarke's on the other hand are written by a man with obvious talent and a wealth of scientific knowledge behind them but have more the feel about them of invention on the fly, a very British way of doing things, and of gritty realism, everything in his stories is a plausible extension of principles we know or can guess at now.

Now... having read two of the greatest America and Britain have to offer, read some Sean Williams or Shane Dix. The thought processes behind these two are so intensely different from anything you'll find elsewhere in the English speaking world. They're raw and wild. I can see why Sean and Shane changed their book "The Unknown Soldier" so radically from the original Australian version for the American version "The Prodigal Sun". I have both. Reading them one after the other is perhaps an important lesson to would be Australian authors wanting to sell to the USA.

Pizza Pilgrimage

Basil was not a happy doggy today. The owner of the sheep next door came and took away half of his flock. We had to lock Basil up inside the house he was carrying on so much when outside he was making it hard to round them up. Paula felt so bad for him that we took him along with us when we went into Campbeltown today. He was allot happier in the backseat than he was the other day in the front seat. Unfortunately Paula had forgotten to bring along his lead, so Basil had to stay in the car while we did what we needed to do. Needless to say he was confused as to why we brought him along.

Our windscreen was cracked by a flying rock thrown at us by a logging truck while on the way home. The crack had spread to over a third of the way across the car by the time we got home. Even so, Paula decided it was pizza night tonight, so a little after we got home, we went back to Campbeltown to try the pizza from there. Disappointing would be an understatement for our reaction when compared to the pizza we got from Perth last month. The ones we got tonight not only cost more than Perth's they were easily half the size and bland to boot. Perth may be about fifteen kilometers or so further away, but we'll be going there again rather than Campbeltown for pizza if the urge ever takes us again. The other restaurants in town looked interesting though, certainly more open and later than in Perth or anywhere else within a seventy odd kilometer radius of sunny Avoca.

The Great Wall of Wood

Basil and I took a walk down by the two rivers again this morning. There was an older couple strapping a boat onto the roof of their land rover. The whole arrangement of the land rover looked like a more or less permanent camping vehicle, very neatly set out. Packaged meals in compartments all along the side with a fold up wooden panel like on the side of the meal trucks that come around to industrial sites. They had folded up push bikes in the back and what looked like a windsurfer on the roof next to the boat. An all around retirement adventure, looked fantastic. And both of them looked as though they could run circles around me even though they had a good thirty years on me. I've got to get back in shape.

It was cold enough to see my breath this morning. It's only march, early Autumn for heavens sake! It only gets cold enough to see your breath in Sydney maybe once or twice a year. It's going to be a long cold winter for me here, especially if we never get this missing baffle plate. I finished stacking our wood this morning. As an exercise to keep warm in the cold morning air, it has few rivals. Quite an imposing structure now it's complete, makes it look like a lot more wood than it had when it was just in a pile. Hard to believe we're probably going to end up burning more than five or six times that amount in the cold months.

I applied the idea I had last night about Dream Stealers politicians not having policies to the story today, fits in nicely. The story has doubled in length in a day and is now beginning to look more likely to be a ten thousand worder than the two thousand worder the first Stealers story was. I can't help but have a little bit of 'Yes Prime Minister' sitting in the back of my mind when I write about my hero and his political advisor. Not that there's anything even remotely funny about a Dream Stealers story, they give me the willies. It would be fun to write comedy some day, but it's probably going to be a long way off yet. I need to hone my craft a great deal before I'm ready to attempt comedy.

Basil now has a new charge to guard in the backyard. The wall of wood. He now sits dutifully in front of it, sitting to attention (at least whenever he knows we're looking) making sure that... well making sure it doesn't get away... I think.

Basil Rides Shotgun

When I went to the tip today, I took Basil with me. Since there wasn't any room in the back for him as I had to put the back seats down to fit the bin, I had him ride in the passenger seat up front, doing what i believe the Americans call "Riding Shotgun" I guess a throw back to the old sage coach days, when the driver needed an armed guard for protection. Basil normally loves car rides, but being up front was not for him. He got out at the tip and was very hard to get back into the car. I guess he didn't like that he couldn't lie down stretched out, or that he couldn't get to the windows on both sides. Whatever it was, I wont be doing it again. Basil is a back seat car rider and that's just fine with both of us.

I think I know why my current inspiration for the latest Dream Stealers story is political. Tasmania is having a state election on the 20th of this month and every second television commercial is about it. It's one of the strangest campaigns I've ever witnessed. Most of the ads are about individuals who happen to be standing for election with various people, probably relatives, saying what nice people they are and how good they'll be for the state without actually saying anything about policy. One of the adds talked about it's candidate for what seemed an eternity without even showing a picture of him, they trotted out his Mum (I think) and a guy in overalls, the main speaker was some older guy in a suit, I suspect it was his father. The only adds that actually mention policy specifically are that one party is apparently in favour of building, well okay, 'improving' a road, while the other is going to improve hospital care in some unspecified way that they're not already doing. (They're the ones in power at the moment.) Sure, it's an important road for Tasmania, it's the one that links the two biggest cities, but it does seem a little odd to be the only issue at stake. And as for hospital care, how about a GP or two? There isn't a GP within a hundred and fifty kilometers of here who's taking on any more patients! My wife and I will have to go all the way to Hobart in order to have medical care and checkups. I guess that road being upgraded will be handy. The other odd thing about the up coming election is the average age of the politicians. They almost all seem strangely young compared to similar samples from NSW, or maybe that's me seeing through my Dream Stealer goggles again. That's one of the odd byproducts of the Dream Stealer world after all, as I established early on in the Barefoot Project, all the major movers and shakers in the Stealers world are in their early twenties or so. Maybe I could use this bizarre scarcity of policy as a feature of Stealers world too, it would make sense with the baby faced politicians being more about personality than substance.

The Dream Stealers Conspiracy

Working on the political stealer story today I further solidified in my own head the hidden conspiracy side of the Dream Stealers. It was a fun experience playing with some of the more absurd theories bandied about by real life conspiracy nuts and confirming them as true... within the Dream Stealers world anyway. The Stealers neatly explain a whole lot of some the theories thrown about, just a shame for the conspiracy nuts out there that THEY'RE NOT REAL.

I went out to the back paddock to attack the thistles again today. I've decided to gather just as many as I can carry in one load per day, my back just wont handle more gardening than that at the moment.

Basil has taken to digging on both sides of the front path now, so the whole entrance to the house from the street now resembles a dirt track with craters on either side. A little like a relief map of Queenstown (Tasmania) if you haven't been there, photos don't do it justice, you just must visit the place, it'll turn you into a conservationist in an instant. When Paula and I first considered coming to live in Tasmania, Queenstown was one of the places we considered... until we visited the place. It'll give me inspiration for writing about mines on the lunar surface. I'm serious, it's out of this world.

I took Basil for a walk through to the other end of town today, up to the tip and back. There's an apple tree by the side of the road just past the last house, doesn't seem to belong to anyone. There are apples on the ground around it, I'm guessing they were blown off in the virtually gale force winds we've been having today. Not the kind of apples we have on our tree, which are good cooking apples, these are reddish. I think they're Fuji's or some such similar variety. I must remember to ask the nearest house if the tree is theirs or if the apples are considered communal property.

It's very cold tonight, so I'd better get to bed, it's my job to provide warmth to the felines and the female I share the bed with. Until we get our four month overdue baffle plate for our wood heater, (the land lord was supposed to have had it fitted before we even moved in back in December) I'm the best provider of heat in the house.

Angry Mutant Killer Thistles

Well, it seems my story following a politician in Dream Stealers World is what wanted to be written most urgently. It's a very different flavour of story to the original Stealers story which was first person, this one is in the third person and follows the later stages of a Lawrence Kilremey... well, I'd better not say any more about it here, don't want to pre publish before submission, but I suspect I may have something ready for my pre submission editorial team within the week.

The farmers who's sheep are staying next door dropped by to check on them this morning. Basil went wild. Someone in with "his" sheep. I explained to the farmer how Basil has been reacting with them there and he said he just may be a natural sheep dog. I think he may have been humouring the "city boy" but he did offer to let Basil loose on them the day he takes the sheep out of the yard. Not sure when that will be, but I know Paula will want to see it.

It was eight hour day here in Tassie today. I've never heard of it, but apparently it's what Labour day used to be called in other states (and countries) all started in Victoria over 150 years ago... but then dear reader Mr google will give you all the info you need (or want) on that subject. Just odd that it's still labeled with the original title, but then this is Tasmania and old fashioned is what we do here.

We have angry mutant killer thistles. I found a whole bunch of them all over the back of the back paddock today. They weren't there yesterday, but this morning some where fully the size of cabbages. How is it possible for a plant to grow that fast? I can't wait till we get some veggies planted if that's what's going to happen. Maybe it's only because they're weeds though, I remember someone describing a weed as the fastest growing plant in the area, that's part of what makes it a weed. Murphy's law of crops, only the weeds grow exceptionally well, everything else needs encouragement and constant attention.

Misty Mulberries

I took Basil for a walk in the mist this morning. We went down to the junction of the two rivers just outside town. St Pauls River (the smaller of the two) has a whole lot of Mulberry bushes growing along the bank where there's a picnic ground. I've not noticed the mulberries there before, not seen or tasted them for years. They're just coming into ripeness now too. Three interstate caravans where parked down there this morning too, fairly sure it's not a legal campsite, but they're not hurting anyone... so long as they clean up after themselves.

Dream Stealers stories are tough on me. They're not my normal taste in reading, but oddly I find them easier to write than what I would normally read. My first one had been cooking away in my brain for over twenty years before I had it ready for submission. I'm fairly sure these two I started today aren't going to take that long, and I'm making much better progress on them than I am on any of the other stories right now. It would make things easier on me if I just heard back about my first submission. Either way, acceptance or rejection, I just want to know. The scientist story seems to hold the most promise at the moment, so I think I'll focus on that and see if I can make something of it in a week or so. I need to redevelop some momentum. If it's going to take this long to find out about one submission, I need to have a much larger number of submissions out there so I can at least hear back about some/one a month maybe.

I'd been forgetting to take the garbage to the tip for the last couple of weeks. I put the "bin" in a shed in the backyard and kept forgetting it come garbage day... till today. The bin was pretty ripe when I dragged it out of the shed, so I let it sit for a couple of hours to hopefully dissipate the smell somewhat before I contaminated the car with it. Basil decided it was his bound and duty to sit guard by it under the cherry plum tree in the backyard. He even forsook looking over "his" sheep in the neighbours yard for the afternoon just to make sure nobody got to the bin... or was it to make sure the bin didn't get away? He does take his guard duty seriously. When we got back from the walk this morning he raced out the back to check up on his sheep, and whenever I go away from the house he sits by the front door waiting till I get back. He's not waiting for me, he doesn't even like me very much he's Paula's dog, but when I'm away from home he sees himself as the household protector. Just one small problem with this brave guard dog... well a few of them:
1} he's afraid of the dark.
2} he's not afraid of or even disturbed by Jehovah's Witnesses.
3} he barks at tradesmen, but only if they're visiting next door neighbours, not us.
4} he jumps up and nips at people (mostly me) when he gets excited.
5} he's afraid of the dark.
6} the holes he's digging in the yard are big enough to bury him in.
7} he destroys footwear if it's left on the ground... but only left shoes.
8} HE'S AFRAID OF THE DARK!

Thistle Wars

I just can't believe how many thistles I keep finding every day in the back yard. It seems for every one I dig up, two more grow back the next day. Maybe now summer is over, they won't grow so fast. It was freezing for the first day of autumn (yesterday) nice today though.

I made some more progress on both the belt wars story and the third world war book today. Especially the book. I was working on what will probably be chapter two. I managed to nuke about 80-90% of the population of the planet and turn every major city into something between smoldering ruins and radioactive glass with a reasonable explanation as to why for every group of people. The stage is set for a grim battle of survival and or extermination (with possibly a smattering of forgiveness and understanding if I can swing it...) for the rest of the story.

TV reception has been greatly improved in house thanks to a daring (if I say so myself) stint on the roof. I changed the antenna orientation from an approximation of next doors, pointing towards a nearby mountain top, by about 55 degrees south pointing more towards Hobart through a valley. It just made more sense, I can't see any transmission towers on the mountain tops near here, and despite Launceston being a whole lot closer than Hobart the Hobart channels have always been clearer here. Less mountain tops in the way I guess.

Tomorrow, I may have a go at starting another Dream Stealers World story... or two. I've had a couple of ideas I could explore there. Rather than focusing on a washed up writer, this time it'll either be following a meteoric political career, or a scientist who's stumbled on the existence of the stealers themselves. Maybe both and I'll submit one story to one mag and the other to another. They're both different stories after all, not simultaneously submitting the same story to two mags, I don't want to even think about alienating my potential market. I don't want to serialise them either, these are just short stories that happen to be based in the same world, with the same rules, like Asimovs robot stories. I have a feeling I may well have the stealers stories ready before any belt wars story ever sees the light of day.

Old School

I've tried a new tack today with the wall I've been hitting. Something I used to do back in my teens and twenties. Pen and paper. Old fashioned I know, but I can take them with me where ever I go. I've printed out my belt wars story in manuscript form, big margins and double spaced. Now I can see why editors like that form for submissions. Makes it very easy to spot things, and more importantly to make notes, changes in my case. I'm going to do the same for each story I have in progress and make sure I've got the paper with me at all times from now on, it's fantastically freeing.

The wood man turned up today at our door. This is the guy who provides home delivered fire wood throughout the village, very reasonable rates too. We're going to need allot of wood this winter, I was cold last night and it's still summer! Basil showed his usefulness as a ferocious guard dog... he was outside when the wood man came through the gate, but no warning, nothing, he was sitting next to the guy licking his hand (and occasionally jumping up for a playful pat) when I answered the door. He's half asleep under my desk as I type this, occasionally trying to lick (and chew) my feet, the peppermint smell of his new tick collar mingling with the faintly unwashed doggy smell he usually has.

We're having the neighbours, the ones who own the corner store/petrol station/chicken shop next door, over for a gourmet home made pizza night tomorrow night, so we need to go into lonny to pick up some more flour from the mill and mushrooms etc... Should be a good night. We plan to introduce them to some of the amazing Tasmanian soft drinks we've encountered since we came here. They don't drink, and despite being Tasmanian born and bred, they haven't tried very many of the locally produced fantastic quality soft drinks.

Circling the Wall

I've made some progress today on "Ly and the Ground Huggers" my current Belt Wars short story. But not much. Every time I've added a couple of paragraphs I've felt the need to go back to previous paragraphs and rewrite them because they didn't make sense any more. My Heroine, Ly, is still tip toeing around her second and most important crisis of the story without actually dropping into it. I just can't figure out a logical way for it all to happen. It feels as though I'm beating my head against a brick wall, then stopping to circle around and find somewhere fresh to beat my head. I've tried five different approaches so far, and none of them feel right. At least I've got a better idea where the story is going now. Maybe I should just head on and write the ending then work backwards.

My cousin from Britain, her husband and two small boys stayed with us the night before last. It was great to catch up, haven't seen her for a few years now. We missed them the last time they came out, for Christmas a couple of years ago.

We'd just left Kiama on Christmas morning when we got a flat tire. We'd been heading up to Sydney for a big family Christmas lunch thing. When I got the spare tire out, it turned out to have a nail in it. We couldn't get hold of roadside service (did I mention it was Christmas morning...) so I phoned a friend. The only friend I had who lived anywhere near us at the time. Fortunately he was able to come out and help. He had a portable compressor in his car. I couldn't re-inflate the flat tire, it was ruined, so I put some air into the spare and we limped back home for an improvised Christmas lunch of shepherds pie made from the only things we had in the fridge.

Anyway... the boys, well the eldest... wow! Precocious! A bundle of energy too, he made Basil seem sedate by comparison. Well, almost. He'd apparently never seen a Wii console before, but he instinctively knew this was a toy, and seemed to recognise the Wii game disks for what they where. He was determined to try and play with it whenever his parents left the lounge room. He didn't manage to get any of the disks into the Wii, but he did put one into the DVD drive in the computer we use as our TV. I have to wonder what he'll be like in a couple of years time, he's almost three now, he'll be unstoppable by the time he hits school!

TGIF

Well I made it through another week.

Had a good day today work wise. Not so good writing wise. I've made progress on the book, but it's jumping about. I've done work on chapters 1, 3 and 9 (I think) and I don't know how they're going to hang together or if the whole thing will need to be rewritten from the start.

The backs playing up pretty bad now and I have a splitting headache. I'm off to bed, hopefully I'll feel better in the morning.

New Fangled Old Tech

I assembled our new push mower today. For such an old fashioned way of mowing the lawn, they've come an awful long way even since the eighties. I can remember mowing my mothers lawn back then with a push mower. When I say push mower, I'm talking about unpowered other than by what force the person behind it applies to it, no petrol, no electricity, just hard yakka. It was hard work doing mum's front yard back then, and it was a small yard, tiny compared to what I mowed today. I was a whole lot fitter, younger and stronger back then too, not to mention less in the way of back issues. (Though I have had back problems since my teens, they've just gotten worse as I've gotten older fatter and generally more brittle.) The modern push mower, the one we bought yesterday, is actually easier to push than most petrol driven ones I've used. It's a marvel of modern technology.

I've been digging around trying to find other magazines and or publications to whom I can submit fiction, especially science fiction, via email. I found another one. Though they only accept short stories during four specific months out of the year. February is one of them, so I'd better get my skates on and finish another short story pronto so I can submit it to them before I have to wait another three months.

Still no word from Aurlealis, I know their website says up to a three month wait to find out about acceptance or rejection, but that email I got from the editor seemed to indicate to me I should have heard something by now. Oh well, best thing is to put it out of my head, a watched kettle never boils and all that.

Pop Culture

I watched part of a debate on TV entitled 'Popular Culture: we've seen the future and its junk' and of course the affirmative side trotted out the usual predictable elitist clap trap that I'm so use to hearing applied to Sci-Fi this time applied to all of modern 'pop culture'. It seems if you put the suffix pop in front of culture, suddenly it's not art, it has no actual cultural value... because it's popular. Huh? What's the purpose of culture, any form of culture, if not to engage the public, to express an artists feelings and emotions in such a way as to convey it to the people? Is there any point whatsoever in having the greatest, best written piece of fiction ever, if it's so tedious that only three people in the world have the patience to read it? The negative side pointed out, quite interestingly I thought, that Shakespeare, Mozart and all the greats were, like it or not, among the modern pop culturists (to invent a word) of their own time. Past pop culture has the advantage from our perspective of hindsight. We can 'cherry pick' to quote one of the debaters from the best that each period had to offer and hold them up as shining beacons of culture and respectability. What the elitists conveniently tend to forget is all the rubbish that was around in the time of Shakespeare and friends, they were the exception of their times, not the rule.

Modern culture has no lesser value than that which has gone before, to believe otherwise is to buy into a form of ancestor worship that frankly holds no basis in fact. It's my belief that humans are gradually evolving into smarter beings, not that we're regressing into more primitive. The amount of rubbish around in pop-culture can blind those who choose not to look for the gold in the pile, but there is gold in there. The onus is on us to find it for ourselves and to reject the rubbish for what it is. No-one will know or care who the Big Brother winner of 2008 was in ten or fifty years time, (or even now for that matter) but the work of a great artist, in whatever medium he or she may use, will shine forth from this period and last, just as it's always done and will always do in the future. One thing can be said for the icons of culture gone by, they stood out from what was a much smaller pool of artists.

With mass media we're exposed to a constant stream of widely varied culture both in nature and quality. For one artist to shine in the same way as those of the past I think is extremely unlikely no matter how talented they may be, there's just too many other good ones now too, as well as all the usual rubbish. I can think of countless gifted artists from recent times without whom my life would be less than it is and has been. Asimov, Clarke, Clint Eastwood, Ron Howard, Patrick Stewart, Robert Wise, Tolkien, Paul McCartney join in whenever you feel like it... the list of outstanding artists in their fields from recent times is a whole lot longer than that of those from bygone times. Great art, great literature has a long way to go yet

On the subject of art, literature and creation... not a sausage. Nothing new on any of my stories today. I'm going around in circles with the book, belt wars feels like a dead end right now. I've got a late era space opera kind of thing ticking away in the back of my mind too, but can't think how to start it without stealing from belt wars. I do not want to start down the path of mixing my FTL universe with my Belt Wars system. They're discrete entities with distinctly different physics and social dynamics. We shall see, I'm sure it's just a temporary stoppage.

Basil in the Mist

Heavy mist this morning. I think it's the first time Basil has seen it. He seems a tad confused. Even the sheep from next door are subdued. There's a clinging cold too that pierces my warm clothes. My back is still stiff this morning, though not sore... yet.

Fortunately the story I was working on yesterday has been saved by auto-document recovery. I'm unwisely using OpenOffice.org 3.2 Beta to write it with and I've found a bug. It seems if you've downloaded something while having OpenOffice.org 3.2 Beta open in the background, then later go back to it (OO 3.2B, that is) and attempt to save the document as a different document name from what you opened it as, it hangs. A bit unfortunate if you want to keep revisions filed under date related names. Time to take 3.2B out and got back to 3.1 for my important stuff, I should have known better.

I Just found out about a laptop tracking system that would have been very handy two years ago when my wife's laptop was stolen. Among other things it takes a photo using the built in webcam most laptops have nowadays of the first person to sit in front of it after it's reported stolen and emails it back to a designated account. I think I've found the subject of my next newsletter to my clients.

I feel as though I'm bashing my head against a brick wall with my belt wars story. Every new paragraph I try out seems contrived and or derivative. I've got my character out of her first crisis but can't seem to find a way to get her safely ensconced into the second, major crisis that's the whole focal point of the story. Maybe I'll do better when not distracted by my back. I have a fairly clear idea of what the second crisis is, just not how to land my heroine in it without it clanging around saying “cheat”. It reads like a cheap dime a dozen second rate hacks kind of story, not what I'm trying for here at all.

I'll shelve it for the moment and work a bit more on a more contemporary piece, set just a few years from now. Thing is, that's a book, and I had wanted to work on short stories for the time being. Oh well, writing is writing, as long as I'm achieving something everyday, I wont beat myself up about it not being what I'd planned to do. What's ready to flow will flow. Maybe just having a bit more of the book done will encourage a short story out from a nook or cranny in my mind.

'Back' at Work.

The back still isn't much better today sadly. I can't sit at the keyboard for longer than a few minutes without a spasm starting.

I did manage to get a little work done on the new story, it's actually taken a total direction shift from what I first had in mind for it. Could be interesting finding out about my story as I write it. It's exciting. Like reading a book, but with the joy of creation thrown in.

Managed to do some actual money making work today too. The first part of helping out a Sydney client with some email problems (and other security Issues she wasn't aware of) but I'll have to finish off with that job on the morrow, my back called time.

My Backs calling time on me now too. Hope I can sleep with it like this.

Nice Day for Ducks

Cold and wet, in short, standard Moss family BBQ or beach going weather. Paula doesn't seem so keen about driving all the way to Launceston for an open air street festival toady, and I can't say I blame her.

I decided to try tilling, by hand, the first row of our proposed veggie patch today. First thing I found in the very first fork full of soil was a bone. Not sure what it's from... yet another mystery thing dug up from the backyard. It's clearly been buried for quite some time, years maybe. We've put it in a box just in case something more clearly identifiable turns up. I've done half the row now and nothing else showed up, though I think I've done something horrible to my back. I can't turn it, or lift anything without squeezing pains coming in from the sides, feels as though I'm caught in a vice.

I can't work at a keyboard for long like this. Maybe tomorrow.

On My Own

I finished off the Jeff Carver writers course. Now I guess I'm on my own. I think the best approach will be to just head down tail up and work work work at it. I plan on getting enough stories up and running so that I've got enough to have at least one on submission to each of at least three of the "majors". Aurealis, of course, they're by far the easiest to deal with what with email submission and all, probably either Asimovs or Analog of the American mags (maybe both) and one from the UK.

Off to Lonny (Launceston to non-Tasmanians) in the morning for the Launceston Festivale.

www.festivale.com.au

Sounds like fun.

The Wolf Who Cried Boy

Basil is getting too big for me to think of his as a puppy, but he still only just over one year old. As such, he feels in need of constant attention. He'll demand to be let out only to insist on coming back in again less than five minutes later, then want to go out again in under a minute. When not on the in again out again merry go round, he'll sit under our feet and whine if he's not the focus of all human attention. Basil is not a dog who has a hard life. Anyone who knows us will see that last sentence for the monumental understatement that it is. Today, Paula has decided it's time our pets moved away from the mass produced store bought food and on to home made. To that end, she's found a lengthy list of recipes from various locations and is currently gearing up to make a few batches today.

I've taken one of my Belt Wars based stories out and dusted it off today. I've decided it's going to be based in the run up to the second belt war. My main hero will discover pieces of a puzzle to help her uncover a plot that'll be part of the trigger for war. The story had previously been intended to be a discovery of an ancient, highly advanced, artefact, but that plot line has been done to death since the time of Plato and his tales of Atlantis. Sci-Fi writers over the years have given that particular plot a good hard go too, Niven and the Protectors, Ring World etc. from his “Known Space” universe for one. Larry Niven's one of my writing heroes so by all means I wish to emulate him, I just don't want to copy him.

I looked up writing groups in Tasmania today. Have to say, they don't seem terribly impressive from their websites. One of them, The Tasmanian Writers Centre in Hobart looks to be a handy resource for the hobbyist writer who has little faith in themselves and either not much in the way of research skills, or no real ambition to actually make a living from writing as they charge more to proof read stories than they could be sold for. The other, the Tasmanian arm of the Fellowship of Australian Writers looks to be (by reading between the lines) an arty sort of organisation who consider Sci-Fi not to belong to the category of literature. I've had dealings with this type of group before, I recognise the nose in the air kind of approach hinted at by the type of competitions they're running. Looks as though I'll have to look for support elsewhere. Jeff Carver's been helpful, by providing his course, and his quick response to my question before, and seemed friendly enough in his response to a comment I left on his blog about ebook piracy. The editor of Aurealis seemed friendly and supportive too. Still no word, but it's early days yet, so I won't let myself get discouraged by that.

Three things I learned today:
1} Tasmania may be host to many writers, but not much in the way of Sci-Fi support. To the best of my knowledge, the only Sci-Fi writer of note who lives here is published under the name of Sara Douglas. She's nice, an online friend of my wife's in fact, but very protective of her privacy, so I won't be bothering her with questions, or seeking publication advice there.
2} I discovered today much to my surprise that the Hero of my next story is in fact a Heroine. No one could have been more surprised than I was, but there she was as I wrote in black and white.
3} Apparently soft drinks give you cancer. Well, what's the big surprise there? Everything gives you cancer nowadays. There's even a song about it I think.

Evandale

That's it! I'm just not going to open my mouth other than for monosyllabic replies for the rest of the day. Every time I've opened my mouth today I've got grump in return, and it doesn't seem to have mattered what topic. A fine way to spend a ninth anniversary I must say! Paula's second cup of coffee seems to have settled the grump monster. I should know by now just to keep my trap shut till she's done with her morning brain boot up routine.

I revisited Dream Stealers this morning after reading through Jeff Carvers section on rewriting and self evaluation. He used an example of a book of his own that had already been published for just how sharp a self editors knife can be. I found a couple of little things to clean up. I've added the first line of a song to the end and changed the title to “Dream a Little Dream” my own feeling is just that little change makes it a whole lot creepier than it already was. His section on ruthless cutting doesn't really apply to Dream, as the story relies on all the “extra” adjectives to convey the feelings I want to evoke in a reader. I've tried it, it still makes sense, but it's lost it's flavour. Using the technique on my other works in progress however has yielded remarkable improvements.

Moving on to Jeff's section entitled “Using the Criticism” I find once again that I've instinctively done what he's recommending. Having a few select individuals read my work with an editors eye in between drafts. It's been a richly rewarding experience gathering and distilling said critique. I'd expected it to be allot harder, as I've always had a fairly fragile ego, but by looking at the criticisms in the spirit in which they'd been delivered and by utilising them to improve the story has resulted, I think, in a far more deeply immersive tale than I'd started out with. There's a line in his rewriting section that's vital, I think, to take on board. I'm going to call it the Prime Directive of the self editing process. “Be tough on your story, but don't be hard on yourself!” Wow. It seems so simple, so obvious now I've read it, that it should almost be a cliché.

We're off to Evandale today as an Anniversary celebratory outing. Going for a tasting at the Tasmanian Gourmet Sauce Co and wandering around the town. From what we saw the other night, it should be fun. Most of the main street seems almost like an antique.

Evandale was a lovely outing. The sauces, jams, relishes and mustards at TGS co where out of this world. We bought a jar of Summerberry Jam and a small bottle of a Thai Chilli sauce that absolutely wowed us. The Thai Chilli sauce has sultanas and ginger in it as well as the usual chilli, garlic, vinegar and salt. Makes for a fascinating flavour. We had lunch at a bakery/café called Ingeside Bakery. All the ingredients and other items they sell are made in Tassie. Tasmanian foods are just so good, it's hard to see why anyone in this island state would eat imported foods. With the exception of mustard seeds. While chatting with the lady at the TGS co earlier in the day, she mentioned the only imported item they used was Canadian mustard seeds because the Aussie ones just don't absorb the flavours in the sauces and mustards quite as well for some reason.

Tomorrow I'm going to pick one of my other stories and focus on it till it's ready for submission. I want to be able to have a quick turn around for when I hear if Stealers has been accepted or rejected. I've looked into other Sci Fi mags from around the world. Aurealis is the only one I've found that accepts email submissions. (In fact they now insist on it.) It seems awfully anachronistic for SCIENCE Fiction magazines to insist on hard copy in this day and age, but I guess I'll have to go along with it. After all, it would be silly of me to only submit my work to Aurealis, fine magazine that they are, it would be an extremely limiting behaviour on my part.

Three things I've learned today:
1} Don't be afraid to be brutal when in the rewriting process.
2} Canadian mustard seeds are more absorbent than Australian ones.
3} Café staff are almost always happy to substitute ingredients if you ask them to. (For lunch I wanted the Tasmanian Smoked Salmon & Asparagus Bree melt... but with chicken instead of the salmon. I wasn't going to ask, but then thought “what the hey” and presto... I love chicken cheese and asparagus, just add mushrooms and you're very close to perfection.)

Stuck in the Fence

As I was waiting for the kettle to boil this morning for my initial heart starter, I heard the most horrible sound I can recall ever hearing. It sounded as though Basil was being run through a meat mincer and he wasn't happy about it. I raced outside to find he'd got himself caught in the fence between our yard and where the sheep reside. He was dangling by the front left paw, not touching the ground, and leaping about like a marlin on the hook. He snapped at me as I approached, so I came up behind him and held him in a bear hug while I lifted him up and out of the groove his paw was stuck in. On release he stood on three legs and I feared he may have a broken bone, the paw seemed to be at a funny angle. Fortunately it turns out he was just being cautious, he was running around on it in less than a minute, and the paw looked fine when I examined it more closely. He came inside to be comforted by Paula & I for a short while, but soon enough wanted to go outside again. Upon his exit, he immediately went over to the scene of the accident and started sniffing everything around the area. Basil was conducting a crime scene investigation and he wasn't going to miss any clue as to what went wrong so as not to have a repeat.

I've just been given an assignment to write down three things I learned today... for the next week. (Extra credit to do it for a month) So I'll put these at the bottom of the blogs.

I just got to a section entitled “Believe in Yourself” in Jeff's course. It's heartening to know I'm not the only one with those negative voices inside, telling me I'm washed up before I even start. He actually quoted a few of my inner voices verbatim.

Oh the dignity of cats. While I was making bread this morning, Lexi decided to jump up on the chair, on which I'd just put the bag of flour, only to find there wasn't sufficient room. She fell off. She strode away with her head and tail at high port as if to say “I meant to do that, I didn't really want to be on that chair anyway.”

Well, the parts for that computer I sold last week just arrived. Time to build my first Tasmanian made system to have it ready for installation on the morrow.

The trip to the post office to check the mail today wasn't the usual quiet walk with Basil. The Australian Ducati club came to town. It seems the club has an annual ride, this year it's through Tasmania. The local store was swamped even though they came in in dribs and drabs. The local dogs in the yards on the highway were beside themselves and they set Basil off. He was extremely hard to keep on the lead. He didn't know if he wanted to confront the dogs, the motorcycles or just run away from the whole ugly mess. After having dropped Basil off at home, I stopped and talked to a couple of riders. The first trip out had been a waste of time anyway as the post office was closed at that time. Shirley (the post mistress) must have been at home (next door to my home) for lunch. I'd tried to go see Sam (our policeman, see yesterdays post) for a chat, but he was out too, making the streets, well the street, safe no doubt. Anyway, the riders. Odd thing, the only riders who seemed to want to chat were the only ones not riding Ducatis. One was on a retro styled Triumph, though fairly new, that reminded me of a '79 Suzuki GSX 1100 I used to own, I used to call it Bessie. The other was on a Honda, though he said it was made in Italy, so I said “Oh, so it's an honorary Ducati” he smiled and nodded. I didn't know Honda had a factory there, apparently they have two.

I just spotted what looked like a tiny scorpion, but without a tail, climbing the wall. According to google and wikipedia, what I just saw was a pseudoscorpion. To quote wiki (something I'm loath to do, but desperate times...) “Pseudoscorpions are generally beneficial to humans since they prey on clothes moth larvae, carpet beetle larvae, booklice, ants, mites, and small flies.” I regret having crushed it now.

Three things I learned today:
1} We have pseudoscorpions in our house, and they're beneficial.
2} Australia has a Ducati club and they go for annual rides.
3} Honda have two factories in Italy.

The Seven Deadly Perils of Style

Continuing on through Jeff Carvers course today after a Sunday off for bad behaviour, I came across a subsection of the above mentioned chapter so important I'll put the web address here:

http://www.writesf.com/08_Lesson_05_Perils.html

"Here's another mistake to watch out for: not, as you might think, too many instances of he said and she said, but rather the temptation to use substitute phrases... The mistake is so common that there's a name for it: said-bookisms... The substitute phrases... generally only call attention to themselves while adding little power to the dialogue"

It makes such good sense. I know I've felt inclined to use some of these silly “said-bookisms” myself from time to time. Luckily, or perhaps through cowardice, to date none of my work that's seen the light of day (been shown to anyone other than myself) has had more than a smattering of dialogue, so it's not been something I've fallen victim to as yet.

It's a public holiday here in Tassie today... apparently. The Hobart Cup. I have to say I've never heard of it before, but it's obviously Tasmania's answer to the Melbourne Cup. According to the news last night, the Tasmanian horses aren't greatly favoured to win as there's a very strong field from out of state. Odd thing is, they only mentioned the names of the Tasmanian horses in the report. You've got to love regional news broadcasts. I remember we used to thoroughly enjoy the Illawarra news when we lived in Kiama. While the national news was reporting on trade negotiations with China and bushfires in Victoria destroying whole towns, the Illawarra news would focus on “a dastardly attack on a helpless old lady on the harbour front in Wollongong” when a purse snatcher had apparently thrown an eighty year old to the ground, or “a reckless teenager was caught doing 46Kms per hour over the speed limit on King Street”. The news here is not quite as parochial, though very nearly. Not too surprising given that Tasmania has a population roughly equal to that of the Illawarra area.

While reading through a section of the writers course on the importance of research, I had a bolt of lightning, well, inspiration. JC (Jeff Carver) mentioned, in passing, “Need to know about police procedure? Ask one of your local police officers.” As I thought to myself “never mind the plural there” as our town has only one, it occurred to me. What if in the vast reaches of post FTL space, there was such a sparsely populated region that there was only one policeman posted there. Being in space, it's unlikely he'd be as concerned with speeding as a terrestrial counterpart. What would his duties entail? What if he suddenly had to deal with something radically different. Something that would challenge even a well manned and better equipped space patrol “station”. Maybe I should go have a chat with Sam, our policeman. Paula and I just watched a double episode of Castle, a TV show about a writer who goes and hangs around a police officer for inspiration. Funny coincidence, but I rather suspect not only would Sam refuse such a request, it'd be pointless anyway. I mean, what kind of inspiration would I be likely to derive, especially for a Space Patrolman, from watching a country cop give a few interstate drivers speeding fines? Still, I may just ask him if he ever did have an interesting event he had to deal with... nah, he would have just called in the detectives from Launceston surely.

Tomorrow it'll have been a week since I submitted Dream Stealers. I know I shouldn't expect to hear back so soon, but I can't help but feel a nervous sort of excitement. I haven't felt this way since I competed in the state athletics championships back in the eighties.

Smoke Gets in Your Thoat

I should add as a quick pre-note to today's blog that it's been pointed out to me the way I've been doing this up till now is wrong. I've been posting early in the day and adding to the post with edits throughout the rest of the day. This may well have potentially resulted in readers only seeing the first paragraph or two, unless they keep going back to it too. I apologise. I hearby undertake to keep this daily blog of mine unpublished till the end of each day, then put it all out in one fell swoop.

We used another mozzie coil last night, so no nocturnal dive bombers. The air was very still last night though, no breeze whatsoever. Unfortunately this exposed a weakness of the mosquito coil I hadn't thought of. The room filled with the incense like smoke, leaving my throat very raw and resulting in Paula's snoring to be even louder than normal.

Turns out I've instinctively been doing what Jeff Carver recommends for starting a story. “It's often best to open in the middle of an action” It always seemed the logical thing to do to capture a potential readers attention, I just didn't notice that I was doing it till now. Nice to have it spelt out for me what I was doing and why.

I just had a very odd new idea for a kind of character not previously written about... Something totally new and exciting. Stay tuned to this channel dear reader. I'd better not disclose to many details at this point as I think it's going to be the basis of my next publication attempt. Suffice it to say for now, this type of character is an abstract form.

I've moved on to dialogue now in the Carver writers course. Come to think of it, it may be the only way to portray my new characters without seeming a bit too Omniscient. Put them in as totally dialogue defined, no physicality at all. I'm still struggling a bit with how best to bring these characters to life, I can “see” them in my minds eye, I just haven't decided yet exactly how they're going to interact (or even if) with the world you and I happen to inhabit. I can see them involved in dialogue with each other... maybe that'll have to be my entire first story involving them. A dialogue between two or more of these “beings”, maybe “doings” would be a better description. You'll just have to wait for the story to emerge to decide for yourself.

The sheep on the property next door got some new room mates today. Five lambs have arrived. Basil is very excited!

Tomato soup for lunch. The old fashioned Campbell's in a can kind. The one where the can says to slowly stir on one can of water while cooking, or half a can of milk and half water for extra creaminess. I've always just used one whole can of milk with it, makes it so much better. Well, with a locally produced milk they do down here called “Real Milk”, it's out of this world.

Finishing early today. Well, it is Saturday after all.

Thanks be to Hypnos and the Blessed Wings of Morpheus

Those mosquito coils worked a treat! Thank heavens (and the above mentioned gods if you're so inclined) I don't know how many more nights I could have taken being dive bombed in the ears. Why do they always seem to target the ears (and occasionally the nostrils) anyway? Is there significant heat lost from the body through those various orifi that they're attracted to them as a heat source?

Having just been through my emails for the day, I noticed a new scam now doing the rounds. This one aimed at Bigpond (a large ISP in Australia) users, along the same lines as the standard bank phishing scams. Just as well I sent out that warning about email scams to my newsletter subscribers yesterday.

Jeff Carver's course has set me a tough one today. Aliens. One I've neatly avoided till now by basing my worlds early in the space opera developmental stages, pre-FTL, so confined to within our own somewhat limited solar system. I have thought about aliens before, I mean, what kind of sci fi writer with any self respect wouldn't? The thing that's always had me stop short with them before, is the same question that's been plaguing the worlds of biology, philosophy even theology for as long as these various forms of study have existed. What, when it comes down it, is life? Would we even recognise an alien life form if it popped up in our porridge. (To quote the late great Douglas Adams.) I'm going to have to have a long hard think about this one. Just how alien do I want my aliens? I certainly don't want to create yea olde man in a rubber suit type of alien, what's the point, it's been done to death. I'm thinking with my aliens, there will be two very interesting points of view to explore. Differences (obviously) and how those differences affect interactions with humans (who, for now at least will most likely be my main characters... for now... Hmmm) but of course the other potentially very interesting thing to explore may well be similarities, without which they never would have been encountered of course.

While thinking about all this, Paula and I popped out to pick up the mail. We took Basil with us and walked around the, for want of a better word, town. Today I suggested a quick stop off at the odd 'n sods shop up the road. It's called Billy Bags and, despite the tiny size of the town, is quite well known, even back in Kiama before we came here, our next door neighbour told us about the place. Paula had a ball in there while I was minding the dog outside, sniffing the life sized plastic cows (the dog, not me) and exploring the road side around the shop. Then Paula came out and said the shop keeper wanted a word with me. She'd signed up to the Dr Daves newsletter and had been meaning to get in touch about the several computers in her life, all running a whole lot slower than she'd like them to. Needless to say, I'll be back at some as yet unspecified date to rectify the situation for her.

So, Aliens. Note the capitol A. I've decided that my aliens will be very, very different. At least my first ones will be. So different in fact that they're not recognised as a life form at all for some time. I'm still mulling over exactly what form they'll take and how they'll be discovered, but I do have some vague ideas slowly starting to coalesce in my head.

What if the Tectonic plates that our continents rest on are actually alive? What if the Himalayas for example are a form a writing? How does a life-form with such a short life span as us communicate with such a long lived, slow thinking, slow moving, vast thing? It would be like expecting a microbe to communicate with us. No, even that's out of scale, a sub atomic virus, if such a thing could exist. Interesting... what about sub atomic life? I think that may have been done already, but in tandem with the outrageously huge other forms it could make an interesting dynamic. What if the Tectonic life forms are just the larval stage of planet sized life forms, and we're just parasites, or maybe some form of symbiote. Is tearing apart the world actually our function in assisting the gestation of these beings? Is that why wars always seem to be boiling away, ready to spill into ever bigger more dangerous conflagrations. I may just have my next short story idea here...

Pizza is a rare and precious thing, or so it seems in the midlands of Tasmania. Paula and I had decided to go to the pub for dinner last night, only to discover that they don't do counter meals on Fridays anymore, only Saturdays. So, we set out in search for somewhere else to eat. Twenty odd kilometers up the road, we hit the midland highway that runs between Launceston and Hobart and turned right, toward Lonny as the locals call it. We'd programmed our GPS to find us the nearest place to eat and it guided us to a gorgeous town called Evandale. We'll have to go back there some day soon. Not much point this night, as every food place in town shut at or before 8:00PM and it was 8:15 by the time we got there. We'd traveled over fifty kilometers by this time and where only twenty odd from Lonny so we decided to keep going. Luckily, we found a pizza take away joint in Perth. Excellent pizza, just an awful long way to go get it. Odd thing was, they heard my wife's American accent and assumed we must be from Hobart because it sounded different from what they usually got. Must not get too many tourists through there of a night.