As am rushed – going out to lecture, but wanting to get this out there while I still have the courage to post. am apprehensive about possible comments.
Isabel Storey on whatever takes her fancy this day.
It seems ages since I last wrote a post within this site. (Big Sigh)
What excuse or explanation can I offer?
Hibernation? Staying in bed for much longer than usual – often after reading until WAY after midnight.
Took me longer to recover from that cold than it did when, in 2003, I was evacuated to Perth with a collapsed lung, influenza and pneumonia.
Lack of motivation?
Although I have been working on the next novel, the research has put me right off and I wish I had not discovered that which I now cannot forget. Stomach turning and, while I think strong feeling should be behind one’s writing, it feels as if I am preparing a dose of what I see is much needed caster oil. And who am I to offer potions? I recall the basis of the essay, written under exam conditions, which resulted in admission to Uni as a Mature Age Student. I adopted the persona of a small finger nail clipping from God’s hand; not claiming to BE God but staking my position as having come from God. I wrote a letter to Humanity and signed off as Keratin. Years later, at a bar, an academic claimed to have remembered it.
I think some of my poetry – The Comet – for instance has similar echoes.
So, napping it out is pretty well how I am handling my doubt about the current project.
But the major deficit is a lack of passion!
While I am passionate at one level about the theme of the project (organ transplants – particularly hearts) the level of passion has not risen to the stage/state of obsession which is when and where I can really get down and get some work done.
Once upon a time – 1980’s, I processed every item of the Australian National Accounts years 1969-1989, through a decade by decade series of Time Series Analysis. The results were not cheerful.
Why do I write? Why do I bother? I guess the truth of it is that, very early on, I found and was told I had a talent for writing. All my early efforts hit the jackpot first try. Just a knack. But little or no discipline with it. Generally, I was at a loss to think of what to write unless presented with a request or problem. As for becoming a WRITER, I thought I would need Life Experience to be credible. So at 18 I set out to garner the experience I thought I needed and got carried away with living, surviving and just generally getting on with it.
Sixty years later, I have harnessed much of that experience within Mixed Fortunes which I have finally tackled the earlier layout of the print version, with the hope I don’t have to fiddle with uploading an amended file again. Great news today from a reader who emailed to let me know she had lent her copy to another who enjoyed the read. I KNOW word of mouth is simply the best advertising, so I can only live in hope the word get around. One thing which really gladdened my heart when I finished the manuscript – but before posting to Amazon – was laying my head down to sleep to ‘see’ a couple of old gypsy women nod with approval. (and I am goosebumping as I write this.) I know that story was written to illustrate a much misunderstood aspect of humanity.
Now long past midnight and I have a day out tomorrow. Catching up with one of my several very patient friends. You know the kind. Don’t see each other for ages, but that’s okay. My only worry now is that soon some of us will be dropping off the tree.
So, should I desist from continuing with the stomach-churning heart transplant saga? Or can you offer a project which will grab me down into a rabbit-hole of research, statistics and some topic most would find immensely boring but which will feed the energy needed to be passionate to the point of obsession?
Those who know me well, know I don’t miss a chance to ask a question – or two. Today’s conference provided an opportunity.
Taken away from the day one major outstanding idea which I urge all to visit.
The day was enhanced by conversations between sessions and there is a strong chance I have found a new friend – or two.
On a selfish level, my biggest buzz was having Lynn Arnold read in closing my grand-daughter’s favourite of my poems –
“Song to the World”.
On the way home I realised this the second time in fifty years I have heard someone read my work to an audience. SUCH a great compliment for which my thanks expressed in wonky writing in a copy for his own use.
This site will run until late this year when my intention is to blog on https://www.izabellazwriting.com/ and when I sort out the domain google has provided within GSuite I will up-date. Until then please click on “My Books” tab on this page.
https://sites.google.com/izabellazbooks.com/izabellazbooks/home (Think this might have done the trick?)
Have been having fun with different platforms. Would be interesting to find out which is preferred!
This array of hexagons is my usual basis for hatching out a plot for a story. At some stage I can pull out a thread enabling the stringing of words together.
I have fully plotted an outline for the work now in progress and on Monday morning wrote the first 550+ words. Not a massive output, but within that I have pulled into the opening, links to ideas I had mapped out for further within the story. Economy? 🙂
The really great aspect of those words is the length fits within the acceptable limits for critiquing by the group. Their input is greatly valued and taken on board. Next step is to read aloud to catch any errant typos – yesterday caught, but who knows – my fat fingers when amending…….? That will have nailed it. Then onto the next. I have the general gist of the next scene, but have more thinking to do. I can already see a need to reach out to a mathematician/physicist to test an idea before I commit to typing the notion onto the page.
Putting on my prognosticating hat, I can see a fair bit of confusion ahead – which I have already signposted with the word ‘spooky’ within the text of the 500.
Too late to go to bed. I might fall asleep and miss the photography workshop at 9:30. Can catch up with a nap before eye specialist appointment at 4:50. Both eyes today so won’t be feeling up to much later. Takes a bit to relax after gearing up to the procedure, but better than the alternative. Luckily I managed to catch the right eye before much damage happened. With regular treatment my left eye is now better than see here – more the distortion than the grey spot. Prevents driving at night, but as I have no need of a car while living in the centre of a city with excellent public transport, that is problem. Enough for now. Remember, I have deactivated Facebook until the first draft is completed so any comment?
At last I am beginning to accept something about myself which can only be described by others as boasting or, in Australian parlance, skiting. Currently showing TV series about bright children has undone some restriction I had been placing on myself. I have been saying it in poetry for years and time I listened to myself.
One measurement has had me labelled as ‘gifted’, another reported ‘genius’ – also commented as such by a mathematician on reading how I use an array of hexagons in the planning process for plotting a novel.
It is one thing to have someone else say it, another to accept it oneself. The reason I am now without teeth is that I was busy grinding them from an early age. At least since age 7 that I can recall. My mother’s only known remedy was to dose me for ‘worms’ which was a common fallacy back then. Such underlying anxiety would, these days, be recognised as such, but back then, 70 years ago my mental state was hidden behind the request to be ‘a brave little girl’ when my mother had to leave me in charge while she was forced to deal with a traumatic event. When 55 years old, I woke in tears, sobbing my heart out as I no longer had to be a brave little girl. I still ground my teeth. And so very many people think one’s brains are so attached! 🙂
One novel under my belt and out there for the world to judge. I am now on the second during which I intend to do some judging myself! Have deactivated my Facebook account until the first draft is completed. I have lost/mislaid my Steemit password which cannot be recovered. This disengagement allows my attention to writing, instead of just thinking about writing.
The plot for the next novel has been outlined and this morning I wrote the first 500+ words which I will take to the Wednesday Writers for critique tomorrow. This is a small group, but one I hold in great regard and whom I will be delighted to list and acknowledge their contribution to my work.
This blog will be my only outlet now. I will not know if you have read it unless you comment, so however briefly, please say ‘hello”.
Or, if you are in the area, visit Friendly Street Poets, first Monday of the month, or the poetry readings at Mama Jambo third Monday. My two outings.
uLOG is Steemit’s way of encouraging people to post daily. As this is my first it is a doozy and it will be interesting to see if, and if how much I will be rewarded for the effort.
Hope this link works. Soon see.
Alive at last! So many days, weeks with no activity in here. All down to companies now requiring upgraded security on web-sites. Good thinking, but when it takes one unawares ……..!!!!!
Thankfully, I have Skype which enabled the long calls while GoDaddy guys poked around the system and finally have me up and running.
Back later for news. Just now I need a coffee and a deep breath and put my feet up in relief.
First I need to get some idea of how many print copies will find a home in Australia. Once I have a ball-park figure I can order a batch of author copies to sell at AUD$25.00 plus postage within Australia for those not living in Adelaide. Once such an order has been placed and the shipment despatched, then I will transfer the print version from Createspace into the Amazon domain where it can sit beside the e-book version available to those within the US and elsewhere.
But first, to describe what is on offer.
Ancient lore meets modern law.
Century long saga between 1865 – 1965
Four families, four generations, four countries, four cultures.
An early reader tells “that it moves forward through eras and locations, with events playing out in the UK, Australia, South Africa, and upon the high seas.
A rich compelling tale of dynasty, dispossession, and changing times, it concerns noblemen and wanderers; it touches pioneers, soldiers, and lawyers. It lives in history, framed by trusts and family legend.”
If you are in Australia and would like a signed copy please check the postage from your region https://auspost.com.au/business/shipping/check-postage-costs/downloadable-price-guides
add the cost of posting 600gm to $25, email an order to (http://firstname.lastname@example.org) with your contact details. I will then place a bulk order; let you know when it arrives and, on receipt of the amount due sent to
paypal.me/IsabelStorey/xx (xx = $25+postage), I will post the book to you and advise that it is on the way.
I can’t leave this open for too long as I want to make the book available to the American market at their postage rates. There are two extremely supportive people living in the US to whom I wish to gift a copy as soon as the book moves into the Amazon sphere. My thinking is that I would welcome signs of interest by people in Australia by no later than April 30.
(One thing I will never attempt is to write a book on marketing as I am sure this is an off-beat process I am suggesting.)
During the note-making years before I started writing the first draft, I sought an item which would be valuable at the time (18th century) and rare later on. In an encyclopedia of antiques I came across a photo of a piece of Lomonsov porcelain. Friends of mine who are familiar with antiques had not then heard the name.
Within my novel, a young bride takes into her marriage to a Scottish ducal family, a dowry which included a full set of all serving items of Lomonsov porcelain – the Forget-me-not pattern as this seemed appropriate for the purpose within my novel. Over the years the Duchess gifts cups and saucers to close friends and these are handed down over each of the generations within my novel. At that time, the name was not found by Google.
Well under way in the writing, I went on-line to track down an on-line version of my original source and found to my pleased amazement that the factory Lomonsov was back in business and the same pattern as was available in the middle of the eighteenth century is available today.
heirloom ˈɛːluːm/noun a valuable object that has belonged to a family for several generations.
I doubt I will ever have the space for a full set, but am hoping to purchase at least one cup and saucer out of my royalties which I hope will flow once I publish MIXED FORTUNES.
Am just waiting for a tick of approval from a tutor who has my great respect before I upload to Createspace.