Ghost Writer ~ Prelude - All Romance Ebooks

Ghost Writer ~ Prelude - All Romance Ebooks

A change of pace for me...Out Now

What I know today is…

Even though I have lost quite a bit of weight, I find the slogan 'nothing is as good as skinny feels' unrealistic and rude to us non-skinny people. I don't want to be skinny and lots of things feel better than skinny feels.

Muriel…you’re a slut…

I got this review back which said in no uncertain terms that the character in a story I wrote was a slut who enjoyed herself too much by having sex with men. Whore. Tramp. Hussy. Tart. A big scarlet letter on your forehead missy…seriously, I always thought Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter was a total load of bollocks… but I digress…back to sluts. I admire a reviewer who gives an opinion without fear or favour. I just have to wonder if you read the blurb of an erotic book called Dicking Around, that indicates the heroine has sex with a load of men and likes it, why would you shocked when she has sex with a load of men? Or is it okay to write about a woman having sex with 5 men, all of who usually transform into a wolf pack at night or they're cowboys by day who look at a cow's rear and fantasize about the heroine and who gets to shag her senseless first. I always wonder what the next four guys think after first shagging...but I digress again...what do we label the hero when he sleeps with a bunch of women? Naughty? A Bad boy? Wild? Not the same as the old fashioned and archaic word slut is it?

What exactly is she a slut? The word ‘slut’ was a terrible taunt when I was 8 years old. It was one of those delightfully, naughty words you said because you could and at 8 it’s fun to shock people.

Slut –

A person, especially a woman, considered sexually promiscuous.

A slut is a derogatory term used for a person - usually a woman - who engages in casual sexual behavior.

Slut or slattern is a pejorative term applied to an individual who is considered to have loose sexual morals or who is sexually promiscuous. The term is generally applied to women and is an insult or offensive term of disparagement...

So, Becky-Sue thanks for the review. It gave me a chuckle and I appreciate the time and effort it took you to write the review. As for women calling other women – real or fictitious - who choose to live by their own sexual rules a slut? It’s 2011. The term slut is misguided and old fashioned.

Dicking Around is available at Evernight Publishing.

Throw back...

It occurred to me today as I sat at the hairdresser getting blonde foils put through my hair while watching another woman have four hours worth of hair extensions put in and another have the teasing combed carefully out of her hair – it was teased in the name of a beauty pageant – puh-lease – while I read about some overweight C grade Aussie celebrity who dropped her clothes to prove that being fat and naked was beautiful and I realized as women we have no idea what beauty is. We are guided by nonghead celebrities trying to gain fame, the age we are and whether some man will want us with more hair or less hair. Sad really. What is beauty? A smile. A kiss. A flower. A kind word. It ain’t got nothing to do with your hair, face, arse or a man. It was a good reminder for me. Hair dye, extensions or body parts don’t maketh the woman and if that catcheth the man then he ain’t worth catching. Throw him back.

Randomania…

- I don’t understand how people can celebrate the giving of thanks one day and be pepper spraying each other the next in order to grab the best bargain at a sale.
- Some people are animals. Scratch that. Animals have better manners.
- I’m in the midst of contemplating the infinite possibilities of my life. I do this best in my pj’s.
- I’m wondering if the turtles in the Freshwater Creek have a preference for white or multi-grain bread or do they indeed go with the flow.
- How does one cock block? Is it about abstaining from sex?
- If you can fool some of the people all of the time I say forget the people you can only fool half the time.
- Do budgies get bored?
- I’m thinking of taking a trip to Broome or Uluru.
- I’m contemplating looking for my spiritual side. Just can’t remember if it’s left, right or my backside.
- Getting blonde streaks tomorrow. Why? Why not.
- I wrote a story without sex in it. I expect I’ll go to author’s hell. Oh wait, I’ve been to a book convention already.
- Doncha’ wish your girlfriend was hot like me?
- If you could have a ménage would you?
- If you were naked and had to cover one body part I bet it would be your arse.
- Do you wonder about why we have fingernails?
- Sex as a weapon? Bang, bang.

"i Swear" - 2011 White Ribbon Australia Campaign

It's White Ribbon Day in Australia. What does that mean? It's Australia's campaign to stop violence against women. Men who don't hit women and swear against violence? Now they're heroes. If you are a woman and being abused, please seek help. You deserve to be treated better.

http://www.whiteribbon.org.au/myoath

Got boobs? Use 'em....

So, I was at the shops and I passed the food court and I saw a sight that made me stop and ponder. There was this very blonde, curvaceous woman in a short skirt and tight top. She was balancing two plates of food - one in one hand and one on her inner forearm and in the other hand she had 2 bottles of Pepsi and some serviettes. A man, her companion, followed close behind her carrying some cutlery. He was not the slightest bit burdened and he was just an average Joe. Now, this made me ponder several things…1. It is indeed a fact that only women can multi-task - and 2 - Lordy woman, you've got him following you, get him to carry stuff. Sexist? Yes. But I say if you've got boobs use 'em.

Do you have it in puce?

So, I got a new sofa and thought I’d sell the old recliner chairs. They’re in excellent nick but I just don’t need them. It’s part of my live uncomplicated approach to life. This would work splendidly if I was an uncomplicated person. But I’m a work in progress along with being just plain swell. Anyway, I decided to place a free ad in the local paper and sell them. At first, no one called. I was told to be patient that this was the tropics and no one rushed. At lunchtime the calls came in. What colour are the chairs? Dark red? I wanted puce. Are they leather? No. I wanted leather. They’re not leather. That’s a shame because I wanted leather. Build a bridge. Another said I have a 2 hour threshold that I can spend time seeing the chairs in. You need to be home now. My response? Ah, no. Then the ever popular you live all the way out there? Yes, I live the terrible 15-20 drive from the centre of Cairns. And the requests and question went on. Red chairs. After work. No, I don’t take magic beans. Yes, you’ll probably need a cut lunch and 17 litres of water and bus money tied into a knot in your hankie to get to my place. People. Odd.

Screaming mee mees....

I have the worst case of the screaming mee mees. And, although pukable Monday is over, the screaming mee mees started yesterday when I had to leave the house and do something. Go somewhere. Why? No, it wasn't hormonal either. It was the screaming mee mees. Never had them? Lucky. They make you so restless and in need of doing something dumb that it’s an effort not to give into the screaming mee mees. Yesterday, I passed by a sign that said ‘The Savannah Highway – Cairns to Broome – A gazillion miles’. I had a huge yen to turn Patrick, my car, onto the Savannah Highway and go to Broome. I would have but for the fact the fuel gauge was on epic fail and I suspected Patrick would bung on a turn and break down just to spite me. So no Savannah highway. Not yet anyway.

So the screaming mee mees. What is the cure you ask? You have to do something so stupid - but not necessarily regrettable - I've had some amazing and wonderful screaming mee mee breaking moments - that it jolts you back into the mundane. Hmmm…what to do…what to do?

Five good things about Monday…

1. I’m still alive
2. I checked and all my toes are still in place
3. I get to buy a cordless drill today
4. I don’t have to wake up to a chirpy person extolling the virtues of Monday and therefore I don't have to punch anyone out.
5. Um...I’m thinking…thinking…

Situations...

Can't get enough of them...

It's that time of the week....

The crapacious pukeability of cleaning spliflicates my senses...

The assassin...

I was at the gym doing some boxing. That means I put on my boxing gloves, smack bags around and sweat a lot. There is this man I see quite a bit. I’ll be honest. He’s not someone I’d want to come across in a dark alley as my super power of being mouthy wouldn’t save me. He walks in a restrained, if-you-look-sideways-at-me-I’ll-kill-you kind of way. He boxes with bare knuckles and kick boxes bare footed. He slams the bags so hard that I can almost hear them crying in terror. In essence, he’s a scary dude. I tend to believe he’s an assassin.

I had never heard him speak until yesterday. I was punching stuff and he walked in. He looked at me. I smiled in that please-don’t-kill-me-way-I-have-a-new-sofa-arriving-tomorrow-kind-of-way. And then he spoke. It was low and contained, as you’d expect from an assassin – and British – very, very British and quite wry. I did a double take. It was not what I expected. Oh yeah, he’s an assassin all right.

Left-over helmets...

I finally put the barbeque together. It’s just a simple charcoal one that I bought after Cyclone Yasi in February. Yes, February…don’t rush me. Anyway I bought it because I realized I can withstand any crisis but I need coffee when the power goes out for days. Hence flame, heat, boiling water, coffee, calm woman, no one gets hurt.

So, it’s together but for all those extra bolts and screw things they give you as gifts – and those 4 black cup like things with a hole in the base. Not sure what they’re for. I’m thinking maybe it’s to do with providing a helmet to a small animal. I expect I can make hats for Wayne and Cheryl, my budgies, for the next big blow. Just not sure they’d look good in black.

Okay, I’ll say it…

The US President is due in Australia for a 27 hour visit. This is going to cost shite loads of money for the Aussie tax payers. Not to mention how much this costs US tax payers to have him flying in here. All for 27 hours. In a time when everyone is tightening their belts and looking at their finances in light of the global economy – and you just know the whole Europe-in-debt thing is going to make everything worst – why can’t the President stay at home? Why not phone it in? Why do we have our Prime Minister wandering off to Hawaii in a time when we could use her travel money to correct problems at home? Budget cuts? Cut your own. We know how to cut ours. We’ve all been doing it for years. Now, I’m sure the bloke from the US is a nice guy but seriously – 27 hours to talk about defence plans when he could have sent an email? Or done a teleconference? If globally we have to be more economically responsible, why can’t politicians, who are despite the pop star glamour just people, not take that on board?

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-11-16/obama-to-land-in-australia-this-afternoon/3673782

Pics from the studio: on the wall

Some more phone pictures of my wall in the studio. Some graphic scores, collages and a violin with a nail and fircone.

Pics from the studio: desk & modified guitar

Some phone pictures from the studio of what's going on on my desk at the moment.

 

Pics from the studio: new sculptures/instruments

Some recent phone pictures from the studio...

Two hanging sculptures / percussion instruments constructed found objects.

Crimson...

So I bought this really impractically coloured crimson sofa thing today. It doesn’t match a damn thing in the house but then nothing I own matches. I looked at the colour choices. Cream – nah, I’m always rushing, rushing, rushing and I spill things as I dash around. Brown – practical, matches things, it’s a grown up colour, and it makes sense. Nah. I don’t want any of that. Crimson. Impulsive, silly, crazy and I expect Wayne and Cheryl, my budgies, if they looked from their perch inside and saw it they would roll their eyes in horror yet at the same time be dead jealous. Crimson is the colour of madness, fools and silly buggers. It matches nothing. I’ll have it.

That then led to what to do with the two recliner chairs I have. They’re 15 years old – yes, I’m a keeper of things – and in good nick because my mother, bless her crimson toenails – always made sure as kids we understood we had to ‘look after things.’ So, I emailed a friend at work, I was at work too, but questions about recliner chairs are way more important than whatever it is they pay me for. He suggested selling them in a freebie classified that runs every Tuesday in the Cairns Post. Good idea but there is a problem. To get it free you have to say as little as possible in a certain amount of words yet it has to make sense. This is hard for someone who writes because we’re emotionally tortured, sensitive, angst ridden souls who delve deeply into the depths of the swirling morass of feelings that make up humankind and complex needs and raw emotion need space to breathe and grow so what we write becomes a part of us and is embedded in our psyche and our readers are enriched by the experience. I put ‘2 recliners. Very good nick. Phone ####.’ Yep, considered that embedded.

Anything Goes Breakfast Show (from 30/06/11)

30/06/11 The Anything Goes Breakfast Show with Gary Fisher by Anythinggoes on Mixcloud

30/06/11- I was invited to go on The All FM Anything Goes Breakfast Show by presenter and friend Fiona Ledgard. Here I am talking (quietly) about my work and playing some of my favourite music.
I know this is a bit old by blogging standards but I'm not that good at keeping it up to date or remembering everything I've done. It was well worth posting though.

I don’t understand…

….if one email from a publisher tells you every single author they have on their books has their cheques sent out on the exact same day then why am I still waiting weeks afterwards? When I question the ‘exact day’ thing, I get an email saying they ‘stagger’ the payments in batches. Right. A sceptical person would murmur ‘money problems’ because if you have the funds in you pay the funds out to the people who made you those funds. Pretty damn simple but then I get emails from authors in a certain publisher's loop that tell me I missed out on a fairy story about the cancellation of a hotel for the annual convention because someone supposedly saw the manager of the hotel apparently slap his wife/partner/woman so the someone apparently turned on their heel in disgust and said something like ‘we will no longer use this hotel because he’s an evil doer and we will tell all our minions.’

Two thoughts come to mind – anyone who watches another being assaulted should report it or try to stop it unless it was an mythical slap that was made up to explain to less than smart authors the reason a hotel was no longer being used. Saying ‘we can't afford it’ is not as dramatic as picking up your skirts and dramatically leaving – though it saying that I would have added to the story a sword, maybe a buxom heroine, who loves ménage sex, bondage, Daddy/incest themed sex, dressed in skimpy clothing and a hero, who can do all that including the skimpy clothing, who rushes in to help her as she avenges the wife/woman/partner who allegedly got slapped. My other thought? Authors know more bad plot lines than anyone else so it seems crazy trying to spin one as an excuse because less than happy authors like to share stuff like that.

If you turn your head sideways and squint a lot thar be turtles...

This day last year...

…I had just farewelled the movers as they departed with my worldly goods and Patrick, my stoic car, and I were set to hit the road to Cairns that was a bazillion miles away. Patrick was packed to the gills, I had a map, no job to go to and no home to settle in. I was taking a humungous leap of faith leaving the familiar for nothing and the unfamiliar. But that’s the beauty of doing stuff like that. Everyone needs a huge karmic shift in their life so they re-evaluate what they want and where they need to be. Me? I done good. I have an excellent house, have had several jobs since moving up here, aquired two militant budgies and I have met and made friends. Life is what you make it. Change? I like it.

Remembrance Day 11/11/11...

Lest We Forget.

Here and there...

I'm also here today... http://helenwoodallfreelanceediting.blogspot.com/2011/11/editors-from-hell-writers-true-story.html

Mary Sue-ish my arse...

Mary Sue-ish.. Have you heard this term before? I'd heard it mentioned in an ambiguous way but wasn't that familiar with what it exactly meant. When my editor said she was afraid my character might be too Mary Sue-ish, I decided to do some researching. In a nutshell, the character is too perfect to be believable and the reader won't be able to relate. Okay, got that.

One of the suggestions, she made was to drop the XS size. Got that too. Although in defense of all the XS's out there, all it means is that you've got a small frame and won't have to worry about sag as you age:) Its one of those things you bemoan while you're young but appreciate as you get older:)
Besides losing the XS shirts, I also gave her size nine shoes and a total lack of understanding when it comes to chemistry. A bit of a blonde? Not at all, she's smart, just doesn't get chemistry. Is this enough to take away any Mary Sue-ish stigma...we'll see.

http://sandracox.blogspot.com/2011/11/mary-sue-ish.html

I find this interesting. Why can't we have a 'too good to be true,' petite, nice female character in a book? Why do we have to make her flawed or dumb her down or add some weight or make her feet too big? And tell me - would an editor want to make the 'perfect' male character with the good looks, flat abs, lean body and Mensa like intelligence less than all that? I think not. Women are hard on women and we have to bloody stop it. Who cares about shape or weight? I want a good read. I'm not pissed off if the heroine's arse is smaller than mine and her boobs are perky.

The bottom line to me is, no one can tell a writer how their character should be.

Just my opinion but...

I believe it’s good that doctors, like in the recent trial to do with Michael Jackson's death, are held accountable for their actions. My brother was bi-polar – no I’m not saying Michael Jackson was – I’m saying that people with any sort of mental illness should be treated as people who need to find a solution to their problems and not be constantly handed out prescriptions for drugs that are doing stuff all to help then. Of course they’re going to take the drugs. They’re looking for peace…calm…a release. Saw it all with my brother. Read about it with Michael Jackson. Doctors need and should be held accountable. Justice done.

Who is Craig?

He's a mad bugger whoever he is.

Scumbags...

jessica68
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Welcome to my page! I want to share my stuff with you and hope you will find something useful here. Enjoy my collection and come back again and again, I will do my best to make it always interesting for you. Thank you for your time!

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I say e-books pirates should be shot then spoken very severely to followed by a flogging. But I’m a moderate…

ATL
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Welcome to my page! I want to share my stuff with you and hope you will find something useful here. Enjoy my collection and come back again and again, I will do my best to make it always interesting for you. Thank you for your time!

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velzevul
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Welcome to my page! I want to share my stuff with you and hope you will find something useful here. Enjoy my collection and come back again and again, I will do my best to make it always interesting for you. Thank you for your time!

Name: velzevul
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Not surprisingly none of them have anything original to say. Sad to be so common. Been thinking...maybe authors should unite and hire a private investigator to find out the real identities of these scumbags and then publish those private details and their theiving tendancies along with photos, on the internet..you know, cause these common folk like to share things...

Freak out...

I was walking back from feeding the turtles – Sunday morning gig – and I took the path back that would allow me to sticky beak at my neighbour’s homes. I live in a new area so the houses are neat and well kept and haven’t got the 40 – 50 year sag to them. The other thing is they have multitudes of plants, garden furniture, elaborate terracotta and glazed garden pots and things like huge ceramic turtles – yes, I must get me one of those - and fountains. All in the front yard. In plain sight. For all to see. In easy reach of light fingered people – yet nothing gets nicked (‘stolen in’ Yankee-speak). It took me a long while to grasp that I could place stuff like that outside the front door and no one would take it. No one. In Brisbane they would nick it in a heart beat. But here? There’s this weird 1950’s respect vibe in the neighbour. People, in family groups, walk together past the houses, chatting and laughing. Kids ride bikes and scooters and chat to each other as they do. Groups of teenagers walk on by giggling. Giggling for god sake. They’re supposed to be swearing and smoking dope and getting pregnant. There are times I swear I have walked into an alternate universe. No, I’m not naïve. My spidey sense is always alert for trouble yet I find nothing to alarm me...spooky.

Of geckos and guns...

- It’s nice to wake up to find a gecko in you bathroom sink
- Geckos don’t speak when you chat to them
- Why do I always want to blow my nose once I have my boxing gloves on?
- I don’t think you could successfully pick up a gecko when wearing boxing gloves
- Always be wary of those who tell you you’re a ‘gun’. It indicates a huge volume of work coming.
- Point to the paper cut on your finger when you suspect a huge volume of work coming your way.
- Is sex in the city any different to sex in the country other than wearing Manolo Blahniks?
- Do you ever wonder if Manolo Blahnik would have been as successful if he had a normal name?
- Do you think Paris Hilton and that other chick Lohan are upset that the Kardashian person is taking all the limelight?
- Do plastic people think?
- Can you have sex wearing gumboots?
- I don’t think men give a damn what a woman wears. They’re honest in that they prefer naked.
- Ever notice in a gym change room women are careful not to look at other women when naked?
- I haven’t seen a gecko in a change room. What does that say about gecko living preferences?
- Would Manolo Blahnik ever make shoes for geckos?
- Or designer boxing gloves?
- Naked men are lovely to look at but be careful where you put your hands
- Probaby best to wear boxing gloves with naked men

New release!!! Sorta…kinda…ah, well, no…

So I’ve noticed one particular publisher is releasing old, old books - I can remember when some of these books first came out in 2007 and 2008 - as ‘New releases!’ Yes, sure, they are probably working on the fact that some readers would never have seen those titles before or that some people don’t have good memories. But I have to wonder about a couple of things. If a publisher is doing this then to me it indicates they have dramatically lost authors and what does they say about the company’s stability, internal politics and their long term financial longevity? Then there is the thing about why lie to book buyers and indicate something is new when it’s not? Why not have a section on your front page indicating re-releases and have a re-release price to entice the punters to buy? I guess it comes down to ethics, desperation and the particular shade of grey that you reckon you can get by on and how long you can successfully fool the people.

Who’s responsible?

That’s what I want to know. They have inflicted this on us and frankly we don’t deserve it. It’s cruel and inhumane punishment and if people just think before they cast their affections then the world would be a safer place. I’m sure you agree. What? You don’t know what I’m talking about? The Kardashian syndrome. Plastic people who somehow – stuffed if I know how – become famous for being trashy and they have a following of people who adore them because…I don’t know why…possibly the followers are on drugs.
Liz, a wise friend of mine, and I discussed how we cannot fathom how the Kashasian Syndrome happens and what sort of women admire these plastic ‘famous’ figures and watch their supposed 'true love weddings' – bullshit – that end in divorce in 72 days. How is that admirable?

Liz made a good point and that is Gay people have to fight for the right to marry yet trailer trash can marry and divorce a gazillion times and spawn heaps of kids and we consider that acceptable in society. Funny, strange arsed world we have. Say no to plastic people and let's stamp out the Kardashian syndrome.

Unbreakable...

I was looking at the sales on a particular book – thank you to all who have faith and keep buying – and I thought back to the words a particular publisher said to me when I was first starting in the writing gig. She was known for being a ‘bitch’ and enjoying ‘terrifying authors’. Oh yeah, she had power but no class. Wise people use power wisely. Others hide behind it and take jabs at the vulnerable. Anyway, this publisher sent me a ranting email, which I kept, about how the hero of my book was an ‘asshole’ – that’s arsehole to Aussies – and that she basically wanted me to justify them publishing it. My response back was along the lines of publish the arsehole hero book or not. They did. Bullies only win if you allow them and there are a bucket load of them in publishing. Why? Because they use what powers they have to scare an author into conforming to their anal-power-hungry world by threatening not to publish them. And yeah, there are lots of authors out there who are scared a publisher will drop them. There are also authors out there who think fuck you, I’m worth more and I’ll go elsewhere. So they do. My point is? Measure your worth as a person first and a writer second. Are you unbreakable? Can you put up with the tremendous loads of shite diva publishers will dump on you and yet not change who you are as a person? Talent is all well and good but perseverance, a thick skin and a good sense of humour is what will save your arse as a writer.

Bet Me…

So, today was the ‘race that stops a nation’- and the Melbourne Cup does exactly that – no one works from the lead up to when the horses are put into the barriers – yes, we all become race day experts and know things like barriers and analyse why horses ‘bunch up’ and wonder why women persist in wearing lopsided hats that tilt to one side on their head and give no sun protection whatsoever so what is the point of them? Well? And yes ‘fascinators’ is the right word to explain them because I’m personally fascinated at the chocolate fireguard logic of them….but I digress…So, yeah, all of Australia was watching the running of the Melbourne Cup. It’s quite acceptable and actually expected that everyone bunks off work for an hour to watch the Cup on TV. If they’re not doing that we’re off to the TAB – betting shop - and being mug punters for a day gambling our money away. I went to the TAB on the way back from lunch. I was late so I figured I may as well be really late because no one would give a crap because it was Melbourne Cup day. I had to go through to the bar and place my 3 x $5.00 bets. Picture me in my neat, white, prissy office shirt and handbag hanging out with the hardened beer swilling patrons who understood trifectas and stuff and $5.00 bets are for sissies. Did I win? No. I didn’t expect to. Smart gamblers don’t.

Bit of trivia…they’re seem to be a zillion romance books…ok, maybe a million…with the title Bet Me out there. My point? None. That’s the point of trivia.