Shouts From Down Under

Are we there yet? Excited yet?

I'm on a bipolar high today, having got stuck into a bit more NaNo notes, had a postive email back from a research enquiry, and had some moments of clarity, re my novel plot and characterisations.

I'm excited! Are you?

You know, sometimes it pays to sit down and think! I marvel at our brains capacity to do this, especially when it happens with my brain.

Listen to your brain. I'll say this again, fellow writers. I say it with certainty. I have the authority to say this. No, I haven't any books / novels published. I haven't been awarded any nobel prize or recognition for literature. (valued and immensly supportive WDC accolades aside).

Listen. To. Your. Brain.

I have the authority to say this, because sometimes, just sometimes, I DO listen to my brain. And it pays off.

Like, the thing that we are agonising over, that detail that niggles, won't fit in, frustrates, has us climbing the walls, emptying coffee percolators, causing doors to be slammed by family members as they relocate somewhere more peaceful and appreciated. You know what I'm talking about, oh yeah.
The pivotal part of your plot that pertains to pernickety pieces of partition, perversly preventing proper passion in your prose.

If you sit and relax, it will pop out. Your writer's block moment will be gone. I guarantee it.

Could I risk proposing, in the purest sense, that it's like trying to conceive a baby with low fertility and IVF treatment. (this is one thing that hasn't been an issue here)

The more tense and nerved up you get about things, the less likely you'll succeed. Relax about it, and voila~!

I admit it ok, I herby admit that I've been stressing out, not so much on ideas or plot structure, but just how the heck to put it all across, without being
A. Boring
B. Implausible
C. Hysterical
D. Laughable
E. Waffling
D. Doubtful
F. Monotone
G. Downright plain obviously stark raving mad. (MAAAAD. As John Cleese would say)

So that's a piano octave of points, but I'm sure there must be the rest of the 26 letters of the English alphabet of Fails! waiting to happen to this author. Yes, I haven't even mentioned the eternally unreachable summits of spelling, grammar and punctuation perfection.

Put our collective shoes on the foot lever, of the pedal bin, of stuff that doesn't matter, and throw all that worry and negative stress out there with the trayash! As you American's say. Trayash! (Trash)

In Australia, we don't usually call it trash. The trash can. Son, take out that trash can now, like your mother asked you two hours ago.

No, we would more likely say, Have you done the rubbish yet? Have a crack mate, hurry up, tea's nearly ready to serve up! AND WASH YOUR HANDS! (Then a few minutes of grumbling, and the thunder of the wheelie bins, it being rubbish and recylcling night, you'd most likely hear)
Don't forget to HANG YOUR TOWEL BACK UP IN THE BATHROOM.

Bathroom is a word in America that means the room where the toilet is located, isn't it?
But in Australia, possibly not as much nowdays, but in the past, the toilet was in a separate room to the bath, if not in it's quaint little shed built for the purpose, way down the backyard, where the smell wouldn't intrude, and near the back fence in towns, so that the "dunny cart" men could access the drum of "waste matter" from the back lane.

Anyway, that's enough of running on in this blog! I've been trying to locate the handbrake to stop. There it is! A sideways squealing jerking handbrakey in this vehicle of diatribe, then let the dust settle so you can all go back to gulping coffee and worrying over Nano, or editing / inventiong stuff on WDC.

Sparky!