The last time I posted on the blog was about the huge news of my career change.
That was way back in August last year. I know, so far away now.
I've really been meaning to get back on and do some random posts, but the truth is we've been so busy getting the house renovations finished, then getting it on the market and keeping it clean and tidy, and sorting out work stuff, and moving stuff......
Life just got in the way. As usual.
So anyway, this is just a catch up post to let you know I have survived the big move out west, and have so far survived the increase in temperatures. We've gotten through Christmas and New Year relatively unscathed, which is always a miracle, and now we're throwing ourselves into life in a small town and all that offers.
For me, that means I've just come off of a self-imposed break from all things writing. I've set myself a couple of goals I think will be attainable this year, and I'm slowly working my way into a routine to achieve them.
These first 3-6 months I'll spend writing in the mornings, as they seem to be the quietest times (and the coolest) here, and then researching in the afternoons. I have 3 projects I'm working on, and whichever one comes out on top after that time will be the one I focus on for the final half of this year.
I don't like making resolutions at New Year, which is the reason I gave myself the extra week holiday. I don't like to start anything on the 1st of January, because I'm notoriously bad at keeping to it if it feels like a resolution.
The main thing for me over the next few months will be to get settled into a writing routine I can manage, and then work out how to up the ante to get more words out, and then think about getting something published.
The other thing I want to concentrate on is getting back to a regular blogging schedule. Don't hold your breath for the first couple of months though, as I'm trying to come up with things to actually blog about.
On a different tangent though, I'm really looking forward to having a go at brewing my own beer. Wifey bought me a Coopers home brew kit for Christmas, so I'm looking forward to seeing how I go. I'll certainly keep you posted in that regard.
And I'll be keeping you posted on the word count of my WIPs now, via a wordcount widget which should appear very shortly.
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Coping with change and my Big News
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| This change I can deal with. Image courtesy of Rebecca Barray WANA Commons |
I'm no longer big on change. I say "no longer" because I used to be all for it.
Years ago, when a club I was involved with debated whether to cut ties with our existing sports club or go in a new direction with a new sports club, I voted for change. I was all for a new start and a chance to build something new and exciting from the ground up. In hindsight, we should have looked better before we leapt, but that's a whole other story.
Back to my point.
I now like being comfortable. I like the familiar. It's easy. It's known. It's not scary. It's safe.
When something happens to change that?
I worry. I panic. I get agitated and angry. I've also been known to swear. Or, in the case of TV shows, stop watching altogether. ("They've changed time slots again?? I'm just not going to watch any more. That will show them!" Sidenote - I really do miss Bones and Greys. Sigh.)
Sometimes, change can be sudden and unexpected.
Like last night, when we went to do our grocery shopping, we realised the shop was changing its layout. I could tell something was up as soon as I could see the toilet paper at the top end of the last aisle - it's usually at the bottom end. (Ha ha! I didn't know I'd made that joke until I was retyping this post.)
I was immediately on my guard. Lo and behold, the softdrinks were no longer with the chips, but with the condiments and sauces (WTF?) Thankfully, they'd left the chocolate in the same aisle as it had always been. I guess someone in management was smart enough not to change that aisle around.
After some bitching and whinging, my wife slapped me and told me to get a grip. No, not really, but I did get over it. The aisles that were finished didn't look so cluttered and apart from having to search for a few things, the shopping trip was still relatively painless.
Some change though, is a slow burn of acceptance.
Which brings me (finally) to my Big News.
Short version: Wifey has a new job based in another town and we're moving. (Saying that fast is like ripping off a bandaid and makes it seem easier than it is.)
Long Version: "The Plan" has always been for me to give up work and focus on my writing "at some time in the future."
That future is fast approaching.
It's exciting and scary and OMGWTF! all at once.
We've been planning this move since this time last year when Wifey landed the job temporarily. We discussed the possibility that it could become permanent which would mean a move to a small town further west.
At first I was like "no way", but after many long nights of
Wifey gets the opportunity to take a higher position doing something she loves, and I finally get the opportunity to stop working for someone else and start really working on getting myself published.
What did we do to celebrate the fact that we'd be dropping to one wage? We went out and bought an investment property. Yay! (Face palm.)
Leaving aside that financial decision (it will be better for us long term, I promise Wifey!), the road to acceptance has been a long one.
The thing is, I never actually thought I'd be able to take time off of my real job to concentrate on my writing. It was always on my wish-list but never, until now, attainable.
So when the opportunity arose, I railed against it. (You did what?) I actually started talking myself out of my dream of becoming a published author, able to live off the money I make from my writing.
Stupid really, but I was scared. Scared of failing, scared of writing crap, scared of letting down everyone who supports me (even though I know they think I'm crazy). Scared of letting go of a great job with great people that brings in safe money so that we can live a
As with all change, there's a transition period. Right now we're in the "Holy shit we need to finish renovating the house so someone will pay us enough money to pay out the mortgage and let us get a new car" phase.
After that will come the "I can't believe no-one will buy our house for a gazillion dollars, it's so worth it" phase, immediately followed by "We'll never have another first house, ever!" phase.
Then there's the "I NEVER want to move again" phase as we unpack and set up a new house in a new town where we know only the people Wifey works for.
But after ALL of that, will be the (hopefully) very long phase of "S R Silcox, full-time author."
I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.
Monday, 13 August 2012
Re-defining Failure - Writing Update
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| Contemplating my next move, even though I have no idea how to play chess. |
Things have been quiet around here over the past few weeks, and not much writing has been done. Not for want of trying - I've managed to get nearly a thousand words done over my last couple of days off, but it's not nearly as much as I was planning for this time of the year.
Couple of reasons.
Firstly, it's tax season here Down Under, which means my day job has gone from cruisey to hectic in one fell swoop. The problem with being an accountant, especially at this time of year, is that it's extremely hard to relax after a big day.
I wake up in the early hours of the morning after dreaming about tax issues for clients, and come up with solutions in the shower. Yeh, so not fun.
So as a matter of survival, I'm not writing from Tuesday through Friday (my work days). My brain is fried enough as it is without adding the extra burden of having to come up with a few hundred words on any number of my current WIP and then feeling guilty when those words don't materialise.
Secondly, we're (Wifey and I) madly trying to finish the house renovations so we can get the house on the market for a big move, which I'll detail in an upcoming post. That has basically written off my weekends completely, since they're currently spent sanding, painting, puttying, gardening and deciding on paint colours and working out how we're going to dress our house up to look her absolute best when she's finished.
The good thing about the renovating though is that it stimulates the creative side of my brain. So instead of wearing me out, while I'm doing those mundane jobs around the house, I've allowed my muse to sneak down the dark alleys in my brain, seeking out new and interesting characters and plot points.
So far, I've re-worked my YA WIP (if only in my head), which is now 40-50% complete on the first draft, and I've come up with two new plot twists and a new character in that same WIP which adds some spice. I'm finally happy with the direction that WIP is going in.
So much so, it's the one I have ear-marked to concentrate on above all others to get a first draft done by the end of January. I'm more excited about that WIP than I have been about any of them in a long time.
Great for my confidence.
I've also been thinking about how I want to progress on this writing path I've chosen, and what little of the Olympics I watched has made me do a bit of soul-searching. Winning gold is a massive achievement for any athlete, but so is winning silver or bronze, and for some, just competing at the Olympics is a success.
In light of that, I've decided to re-define my idea of failure.
Notice I've chosen to redefine failure as opposed to sucess.
I don't want to move the goal-posts I've set for myself with regards to what I want to achieve with my writing. I do, however, want to remove the barriers I keep coming up against (self-imposed I might add), in order to start achieving those little successes that build up into big ones.
I've written about my fear of failure in an earlier post. It's always hanging around in the background, needling me into submission, making me throw my hands up in frustration and walk away from the keyboard with nothing to show for it except a blank page and an intense feeling of guilt and heartbreak. All because my current definition of failure is zero words per day.
But no more.
My new definition of failure is hating writing. If I ever get to that point, that's when I've failed. If I ever get to the point where I just can't physically make myself write one word, that's when I step back and reconsider my options.
Right now? I still love writing. I love the feeling of being in "the zone" when words come easily.
I also love the feeling of bleeding out a hundred or so words when they're not so easy to come by. In some ways, I feel more triumphant on those occasions because I've managed to get words down in spite of feeling tired/like crap/dragging myself kicking and screaming to the keyboard.
So the new plan, until my situation changes in a few months, is to only write on my Mondays off. Whether that's a blog post or outlining my YA WIP, it doesn't matter. Words are words. If I find myself with a spare hour or so during the week where my brain isn't filled with tax stuff, I'll work on the plot or character summaries, and also re-jig my writing plan to take my upcoming situation into account.
At the very least, I want to stay connected to my WIP so that when I have the time to work on it, I know where I'm headed. That time will come soon enough - I just need to be ready for it.
Every writing day will start with one question - "Do you hate writing?" If the answer is no, then there's no excuses. I must write.
On that note, I'm off to work on the new scenes my muse kindly offered up to me over my morning coffee.
Tuesday, 24 July 2012
What I have in common with Beccy Cole
(Apart from stunning good looks and singing ability).
2012 seems to be the "year of coming out" for some reason. I'm not exactly sure why that's so, but I'm happy to run with it.
So far, we've seen the likes of Magda Szubanski, Queen Latifah, and Anderson Cooper come out, and last night I watched as Beccy Cole came out on the ABCs Australian Story.
It was a wonderful program to watch - raw and honest and funny. I suspect much like Beccy herself.
One of the most common questions I see asked in comments threads about any news story that has anything to do with being gay or lesbian is why is there a need to come out at all. It's often followed by a loaded statement, such as "I don't feel the need to declare myself a male heterosexual".
Well, of course you don't. Everybody already just assumes you're straight.
Coming out is not what I really wanted to talk about in this post though.
Most of us have a kind of "aha" moment - the moment of realisation that we can put a name to our feelings. Some of us, like me, have a series of "aha" moments, which build into the Big Moment of Acceptance.
One of those moments came as a result of the BBC show "Playing the Field". It was while watching that show that Beccy says her "aha" moment came.
It was because of that show that I had one of my moments that lead to me accepting myself for who I am.
When that show was airing here in Australia, I was playing for a soccer team called The Blues - same as the show - and so my team mates and I would dissect each episode at training and before and after games. It was funny to watch a show about a team with the same name as us, and pretty cool too. We tried to match up characters with our team mates, with often hilarious results.
It was during one such discussion while watching a match with some parents of my younger team mates that I came close to outing myself. Close, but not quite.
One parent mentioned their frustration that the show was perpetuating a stereotype that dykes played soccer. I listened for awhile, and then said "I can guarantee you that every women's team in our competition has at least one lesbian on the team."
Stopped the conversation dead did that comment.
One of the mums then asked "Every team?" I just looked at her and smiled, and said "Every team."
It's funny looking back now, because I wonder if they actually worked out that I was talking about myself. When I think about my team at the time, process of elimination should have probably brought them back to me.
Nothing changed though with the way I was treated if they did put two-and-two together, and when I did eventually "come out" when I found myself a wonderful partner (who for some reason is still sticking by me), my team mates and their parents and partners were wonderfully accepting.
But helping me on my gay self-discovery wasn't the only thing that show did for me. It actually gave me the inspiration I needed to start writing again. I have two half-finished YA manuscripts to prove it. Both sound ideas, but terribly flawed in their current condition. Both ideas that I will hopefully pursue in the future.
So to those who want to know why we feel the need to come out, I guess it comes down to power.
The problem lies with those "others" who would choose to define us by our sexuality. We "come out" to claim it for ourselves, before someone else does it for us. We do it to show we're proud of who we are, despite this "thing" that we're told is a flaw in our make up.
Being anything other than straight can still be confronting for some people - and for those of us in that minority, we take a huge risk in coming out, so it's not for the faint hearted. It takes courage and confidence.
We risk losing family, friends and jobs. And for someone like Beccy Cole, she risks losing fans, and she also risks a public (and sometimes private) backlash.
But to Beccy Cole, and anyone else coming out, wanting to come out, or wondering if they should, I have this advice:
We are who we are. Those who judge you on one aspect of your self are not worth having in your life.
And from my perspective as a writer, the people who stop reading this blog because they find out I'm gay are not the people I want as fans.
Being gay is not a huge thing in my life, unless others choose to judge me on it. But then, that's their problem, not mine.
Oh, and just one last thing Beccy - I think you'll discover a whole new group of fans after your "coming out". We're a pretty accepting bunch, and we love to celebrate and support our own.
2012 seems to be the "year of coming out" for some reason. I'm not exactly sure why that's so, but I'm happy to run with it.
So far, we've seen the likes of Magda Szubanski, Queen Latifah, and Anderson Cooper come out, and last night I watched as Beccy Cole came out on the ABCs Australian Story.
It was a wonderful program to watch - raw and honest and funny. I suspect much like Beccy herself.
One of the most common questions I see asked in comments threads about any news story that has anything to do with being gay or lesbian is why is there a need to come out at all. It's often followed by a loaded statement, such as "I don't feel the need to declare myself a male heterosexual".
Well, of course you don't. Everybody already just assumes you're straight.
Coming out is not what I really wanted to talk about in this post though.
Most of us have a kind of "aha" moment - the moment of realisation that we can put a name to our feelings. Some of us, like me, have a series of "aha" moments, which build into the Big Moment of Acceptance.
One of those moments came as a result of the BBC show "Playing the Field". It was while watching that show that Beccy says her "aha" moment came.
It was because of that show that I had one of my moments that lead to me accepting myself for who I am.
When that show was airing here in Australia, I was playing for a soccer team called The Blues - same as the show - and so my team mates and I would dissect each episode at training and before and after games. It was funny to watch a show about a team with the same name as us, and pretty cool too. We tried to match up characters with our team mates, with often hilarious results.
It was during one such discussion while watching a match with some parents of my younger team mates that I came close to outing myself. Close, but not quite.
One parent mentioned their frustration that the show was perpetuating a stereotype that dykes played soccer. I listened for awhile, and then said "I can guarantee you that every women's team in our competition has at least one lesbian on the team."
Stopped the conversation dead did that comment.
One of the mums then asked "Every team?" I just looked at her and smiled, and said "Every team."
It's funny looking back now, because I wonder if they actually worked out that I was talking about myself. When I think about my team at the time, process of elimination should have probably brought them back to me.
Nothing changed though with the way I was treated if they did put two-and-two together, and when I did eventually "come out" when I found myself a wonderful partner (who for some reason is still sticking by me), my team mates and their parents and partners were wonderfully accepting.
But helping me on my gay self-discovery wasn't the only thing that show did for me. It actually gave me the inspiration I needed to start writing again. I have two half-finished YA manuscripts to prove it. Both sound ideas, but terribly flawed in their current condition. Both ideas that I will hopefully pursue in the future.
So to those who want to know why we feel the need to come out, I guess it comes down to power.
The problem lies with those "others" who would choose to define us by our sexuality. We "come out" to claim it for ourselves, before someone else does it for us. We do it to show we're proud of who we are, despite this "thing" that we're told is a flaw in our make up.
Being anything other than straight can still be confronting for some people - and for those of us in that minority, we take a huge risk in coming out, so it's not for the faint hearted. It takes courage and confidence.
We risk losing family, friends and jobs. And for someone like Beccy Cole, she risks losing fans, and she also risks a public (and sometimes private) backlash.
But to Beccy Cole, and anyone else coming out, wanting to come out, or wondering if they should, I have this advice:
We are who we are. Those who judge you on one aspect of your self are not worth having in your life.
And from my perspective as a writer, the people who stop reading this blog because they find out I'm gay are not the people I want as fans.
Being gay is not a huge thing in my life, unless others choose to judge me on it. But then, that's their problem, not mine.
Oh, and just one last thing Beccy - I think you'll discover a whole new group of fans after your "coming out". We're a pretty accepting bunch, and we love to celebrate and support our own.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Sunday Sesh and How reality smacked me in the face
The Beer
This week's sesh is brought to you by Young's Double Chocolate Stout, a brew from the UK.
Truth be known, I've been eyeing this one off for a while now, and I figured you can't really go wrong with beer and chocolate.
What I didn't figure on was this being a burp-factory. This is another with light and tingley carbonation, but it's so black you can't see any bubbles in the glass. I can attest to them being there though.
Taste-wise, it's not as impressive as the name would imply. There's a slight taste of chocolate on the first sip, but apart from that, it's a poor cousin to something like the James Squire porter.
The burnt toffee aftertaste lingers initially, but gradually disappears the more you drink - and being a 500ml bottle, there are two whole drinks in this one.
Having said all that, I did finish it, even though it wasn't one of the best I've had. Probably wouldn't get this one again.
The Post
I had a really cool rant about politics loaded up and ready to go but I came across something while I was traversing the interwebs that I had to share.
Something that made me start thinking about my mortality.
Something that made me realise just how far in the past my childhood is.
Ralph Macchio is fifty. Fifty! I know, right? I can't believe it myself. I thought he was still sixteen, which would make me around, um,one. (Though in reality, he was twenty-three when he played Daniel-san, so I was actually eight when the first movie came out.)
I know, I know. I'm not eight anymore, but that still doesn't make the fact that The Original Karate Kid is over the hill any easier to take.
I know what you're thinking too, and yeh, he was a hotty (I can still appreciate a good-looking lad), but I didn't want to date Daniel-san - I wanted to be Daniel-san.
True story (I have lots of them). When I was a kid, I used to stay at my cousins' house on school holidays. We used to play Barbies and stuff (I was always Ken - the one with the plastic hair), and we used to have a disco at night where we put cassette tapes in the cassette player (usually home-made ones from taping off the radio or Rage), and we'd turn off the lights in the bedroom except for the bed lamps and the glow worms, and we'd party down.
Usually, we'd have a theme, but no matter what the theme was, I would wear a red robe, tie a hanky around my head, and BE The Karate Kid.
"King Fu Fighting" was my song, and when that song came on, I got to cut loose. ("Wax on, wax off").
I was also told when I was a kid that I kinda looked like Ralph. (Un)fortunately, I can't actually find any photos of me when I was eight, but I did have a haircut similar to the photo above, and I could do that intense look quite well. Especially when I was fielding at silly mid-off for my school cricket team.
So anyway, after this discovery, I need more beer to forget the fact that I'm no longer a kid.
This week's sesh is brought to you by Young's Double Chocolate Stout, a brew from the UK.
Truth be known, I've been eyeing this one off for a while now, and I figured you can't really go wrong with beer and chocolate.
 |
| Double Chocolate Stout |
What I didn't figure on was this being a burp-factory. This is another with light and tingley carbonation, but it's so black you can't see any bubbles in the glass. I can attest to them being there though.
Taste-wise, it's not as impressive as the name would imply. There's a slight taste of chocolate on the first sip, but apart from that, it's a poor cousin to something like the James Squire porter.
The burnt toffee aftertaste lingers initially, but gradually disappears the more you drink - and being a 500ml bottle, there are two whole drinks in this one.
Having said all that, I did finish it, even though it wasn't one of the best I've had. Probably wouldn't get this one again.
The Post
I had a really cool rant about politics loaded up and ready to go but I came across something while I was traversing the interwebs that I had to share.
Something that made me start thinking about my mortality.
Something that made me realise just how far in the past my childhood is.
Ralph Macchio is fifty. Fifty! I know, right? I can't believe it myself. I thought he was still sixteen, which would make me around, um,one. (Though in reality, he was twenty-three when he played Daniel-san, so I was actually eight when the first movie came out.)
 |
| The Original Karate Kid |
I know what you're thinking too, and yeh, he was a hotty (I can still appreciate a good-looking lad), but I didn't want to date Daniel-san - I wanted to be Daniel-san.
True story (I have lots of them). When I was a kid, I used to stay at my cousins' house on school holidays. We used to play Barbies and stuff (I was always Ken - the one with the plastic hair), and we used to have a disco at night where we put cassette tapes in the cassette player (usually home-made ones from taping off the radio or Rage), and we'd turn off the lights in the bedroom except for the bed lamps and the glow worms, and we'd party down.
Usually, we'd have a theme, but no matter what the theme was, I would wear a red robe, tie a hanky around my head, and BE The Karate Kid.
"King Fu Fighting" was my song, and when that song came on, I got to cut loose. ("Wax on, wax off").
I was also told when I was a kid that I kinda looked like Ralph. (Un)fortunately, I can't actually find any photos of me when I was eight, but I did have a haircut similar to the photo above, and I could do that intense look quite well. Especially when I was fielding at silly mid-off for my school cricket team.
So anyway, after this discovery, I need more beer to forget the fact that I'm no longer a kid.
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