%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   A place where everybody can feel easily offended - my head! |
|
I'm gathering quite a collection of blogs. "Invalid Item"  is a bit-of-a-rant. I've got a big gob, and it would be a shame not to use it. "Invalid Item" is just that. It's the product of the bits of me mentioned above  filtered through my subconscious."Invalid Item" dealing with all things to do with battling sexes, especially exes.Want to know something trivial or obscure? Not really bothered about whether it's right or wrong, as long as it's believable? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WELCOME TO THE HUMAN GOOGLE!  I may never have mastered the art of tying shoelaces, but I win every time I play Trivial Persuit. Friends place bets on how many people I can, unintentionally, upset on a night out. I am the place where boundless enthusiasm meets embarrassing arrogance. Important Information - Please Read I realise some folk do not get Satire. I love a little baffoonery and believe, rather like the jesters of old, you can say quite a lot more than kings when people think you are an idiot. If you are literal minded, best not read on. If you can tell your arse from your elbow, and recognise when an attack isn't an attack then please read:
Heck, even if you can't tell your appendages from one another, read it anyway: who am I to tell you what you can do and what to take from my writing?  The XGC rating is due to the unknown content of many minds - it may be fluffy bunnies or....not! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Welcome to my world! Acme  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** http://twitter.com/acmetweet Skype me at acmetoo template thing-a-ma-bob: {c:green}Write{/c}: {c:green}Edit{/c}: {c:green}Kids{/c}: {c:green}Relationships{/c}: {c:green}Physical{/c}: {c:green}FFF{/c}: |
I was bored. I wanted to write. I didn't have a clue what about, though. Ages ago, I stumbled upon Beyond the Cloud9  's fabulous interactive, "A Day in the Life of..." [13+], and I thought now was the perfect opportunity to answer the question, "What do you do?" Just in case anyone's interested in the Radio 4 side of my life, here's my response:PARISH ADMINISTRATOR I love my job. After all, I'm in the right place for forgiveness if I muck up, and you can't get much higher up the career ladder than my boss. I'm British, and work for a Church of England parish church in the Northern Province. I'm self-employed in the roll and work out of the Parish Hall, which is also a community centre. I love that, because it brings me into daily contact with a variety of local community groups and their members. I work hours to suit (12 per week) and in that time I have to co-ordinate the schedule of bookings, billing, and upkeep of the hall, as well as fit in my regular Parish Administrator tasks:  LiturgyWe are a High Church of England church, and as such follow the Roman Missal and many traditions associated with catholic worship (we have Mass, not a service). The priest wears vestments and liturgical colours, and we use the Jerusalem Bible. My job is to follow the liturgy and create orders of service for Sundays, Saints' days and Holy days. I use the church calendar to base the liturgy on. So, mid-week is spent creating Sunday's order of service, with relevant readings to the liturgical calendar, appropriate hymns and responses. It is then mass produced for the congregation. Weekly NoticesI create (via publisher) a weekly leaflet, which notes the Mass times, Mass intentions, Intercessions, key Parish Diary dates, and notices for the week. This is distributed on a Sunday to the congregation, sent out via email (we're a green parish), and uploaded as a PDF on the Parish website, which I also update. Door TimesOurs is a busy and vibrant Parish, so each week I produce a list of events, activities, Mass Times and Mass Intentions which is used in poster form in both the Hall and the Church. Weekly ReadingsReaders need to know what they will be reading in advance, and Eucharistic Ministers need to be able to pass on the Sunday readings to the housebound. As part of the Order of Service, I create and produce a reading sheet with relevant prayers, readings, gospel acclamation, communion antiphon and dismissal blessing on it. IntercessionsPrayer is a big part of any Parish's ministry and ours is no exception. I create a list of those in need of prayer: the sick, the recently departed, the anniversaries of the departed, marriages and baptisms. As well as the weekly church items, there are a number of other administrative tasks, too: The Parish MagazineThis is monthly and I collate articles, event notices, advertisements, Mass times and Intentions for the month ahead. I work alongside other Magazine contributors to print, staple and distribute the magazine. BaptismsSpecific details and enquiries are taken by the Priest or the Church Wardens. I handle part of the administrative processing for baptisms, updating them in the Priest's and parish's diaries, sending letters, contacting the those who are needed for the event, eg., organist, verger, wardens etc. WeddingsInitial contact, marriage preparation and Office Hour enquiries are taken on by the Priest. I handle part of the administrative processing for weddings, and deal with deposits and payments, updates in the Priest's and parish's diaries, sending letters, contacting the those who are needed for the event, eg., organist, verger, wardens etc. When the Priest is away I help ensure the relevant details are actioned (such as Banns etc.) FuneralsThankfully, the Parish Priest deals with families of the recently departed. My job is to help create and produce an order of service when there is a Requiem Mass; although, I do occasionally have to liaise with Funeral Directors, as well. AdminGeneral office duties include reception, email, typing, filing, photocopying, etc. I do think mine is the best job in the world. I feel my administrative support enhances the worship of the Parish, the work of the Parish Priest, and that of the Parochial Church Council. I also get to meet wonderful people, volunteers, and community groups who do so much good in the wider community outside of church. |
| Wanted to try the new embedded thing-a-ma-bob (seeing as though everyone else is having such fun with it), and thought of no better share than an artist who always makes me smile and think: a rare combination. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] I get quite a bit of ribbing for my musical taste. It is, to say the least, eclectic. I'm predominately a rock chick with a penchant for jangly guitar riffs. I was played lead in my old band, so perhaps that's not strange. So, sure, I was weaned on the Marychain, The Smiths, Manic Street Preachers and a bit of US cock rock, but that doesn't stop me making an arse of myself on the dance floor when the Scissor Sisters or ABBA come on, or getting my Wagner out for the lads. What really embarrasses my friends and family is my love of dour pop. I can't help myself. But the other day, flicking radio stations between Radio 4 (I am an old fart) and XFM (jingle jangly indiepop goodness), I stumbled across these beautiful lyrics by Just Jack: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I'm not normally prepared for things. I don't know when lack of readiness snuck into my personality; I used to be a cross between a Japanese tourist and a girl guide: pockets and gadgets everywhere, emergency phone/transport money, and a well planned route to any destination. Nowadays I'm so lackadaisical it's a wonder I can find the loo before I have an accident. Well, I thought I should change all that and go back to being shockingly reliable. Well done me. I've done my homework for the Writing Cafe three days earlier than the deadline  We are working in poetry pairs (light and dark). An idea taken from an old contest that used to run here (it still might, but I'm not as prevalent on the Contest Pages as I used to be). We all had to go off and write a light poem, genre = romance/love. When we take them back in on Saturday, they will be anonymously plonked face down in the middle of the writing tables. All those who took part will be invited to go and pick one from the shuffled deck. As long as it isn't the poet's own piece, the poet then has to write a dark response with some obvious connection to the original (ie, mimic form, of language use, imagery, or simply continue the narrative).There was a poem that I started writing years ago... it was for the lovely, and much missed, Terryjroo's 21 Days of Poetry. I thought it quite the diamond in the rough, but never knew how to polish it. I got it out today, dusted it off, rewrote a couple of lines and, while it still doesn't feel finished, I'm happy enough to offer it up at the Writing Cafe. We thought to pamper whimsy, building castles in the skies; The meadow bore our backs, and we scoured heaven with our eyes. Across our field of vision drove lazy dragon flies. The clouds breathed into different shapes, swallowing their meaning; Developing their pompous forms, in swathes beneath the ceiling. Peripherally, I held my thoughts,and listened you breathing. When I saw a tear escape you, as you watched an angel fall, I became your Sancho Panza, doomed to follow at your call-- Tilting at windmills in the air, or fighting hopeless wars. Fat raindrops came from heaven, and held us in their grip. They struck and lapped your lidded eyes and washed between your lips; I envied them their bold desire to enter you and kiss. You only moved to raise your arms, to welcome summer lightning, And then I knew I'd die for you, that real life was for fighting; All other souls would pale to yours--their blustered thunder, stifling. The day we built our castles in the sky above our heads Was the day I knew I'd marry you and never once regret That we were only ten years old and hadn't lived as yet. As preparation is becoming my new byword, I've also dusted off:
I didn't give it half the attention I should have done last year. All the prompts are ready for the contest proper on the launch date of Sept 12 (was going to be 15th, but I just found out I'm off on my jollies then), and all I have to do now is get the Spooktator fun ready. I'm starting sign ups for that daft group asap (yes, one of the 47 groups I'm involved in, but this one was my first creation, and I love it like a hamster loves wood shavings) The great thing about the Spooktator group is that it's completely unfair, shockingly biased, undemocratic and most definitely autocratic. Any sign of taking it seriously and I've been known to boot out contestants--I can't stand moaning minnies. Spooktators normally walk away with at least 10,000gps, and usually a whole heap more, including silly Merit Badges (how else is the Fashion Merit Badge supposed to get air?), awardicons, c-notes, reviews, and a whole host of all those silly distractions from writing that I was hypocriting about yesterday (love the new verb. "What are you doing?" "Hypocriting. Why, what do think I should be doing?" "You should be like me. I never hypocrit on an empty stomach." "Really?" "Really." "Riiiiiiight.") Anyhoo, that won't start until October, so I won't start hyping it up until the end of September... and that includes hypocriting it in blog form. So, more preparation: I've discovered a strange side-effect from stopping smoking. I've started cooking. In fact, I smell like an onion: my clothes, my wizened, onion-juice-wrinkled fingers, my hair, my car (don't quite know how I accomplished that) and my children. Yes, my kids are scratch 'n' sniff, veggie-patch perfumed, hobbits. Mr D, the Deputy Church Warden, is an avid gardener and has a smashing allotment. He very kindly gave me three HUGE courgettes that had grown too large for Mrs D's cooking preferences, and he threw in a GIGANTIC turnip as well. So, yesterday was tomato and courgette soup, and today was turnip and courgette soup, and a massive cottage pie for tea tonight. I still have a spare courgette and will be using it in my favourite pizza recipe. Ages ago I went to see the Pope. I don't know if you've ever been, but the Vatican is bigger than Mr D's enormous vegetable collection. By the time BA's little toddling legs had worn themselves to the stumps, we were starving. We popped into the Vatican Pizzeria and I beheld a sight that only the Catholic side of heaven could promote: MASSIVE, FRESH-MADE, COURGETTE TOPPED (+olive oil, black pepper, and garlic) POPE PIZZA. It was stunning. There were no other ingredients. No tomatoes, herbs, cheese etc., etc., just fresh-pressed white dough in a thin base, lashings of garlicy olive oil and wafer-thin slices of courgette with fresh ground pepper on-da-top. Bliss. Sheer bliss. Pope Pizza instantly became the benchmark that all other pizzas had to live up to. So far, none have. I am saving the final courgette to recreate this culinary masterpiece, just as soon as my stinky-onion house airs out. I've got the flour. I've got the yeast. I've got the motha of all courgettes. Oh, yes, I am prepared. And soon, I shall do my Rocky Horror, gong-banging, Magenta impression to announce that dinner shares my happy state. |
| ... I fanny about, playing instead of knuckling down. The thing is, I have a lot of good friends and acquaintances who give me good nudges in the right direction to work at my writing. I love WDC--it's home--but I have begun to get a little waylaid by the distractions that are here, and my writing is suffering. All the auctions, activities, games, and group obligations have culminated in last minute contest entries, few new material, and very little time for polishing and editing. I love the groups I'm involved with, but have had to make some sensible cut-backs in my choices. I'm no longer a member of staff for the Talent and Holding Ponds, but while I miss making regular contributions to the fabulous writing challenges that are hosted there, it's great to be able to participate in them  I can't speak highly enough of those two groups: they focus on improving and developing writing skills, and celebrating the hard work and effort of writers at every level.I looked at my group listings the other day. I am a member of 45 groups. 15 of them are writing orientated. Oh, the other groups are wonderful, don't get me wrong. They enhance my enjoyment as a participant in the WDC community and do a lot of good by raising upgrades for members, encouraging reviewing, etc., but it made me realise that no matter how good the cause, I should make my writing my number one priority. What I figured I needed was a boot up the butt. So, I turned those 45 groups into 46 and created a group for me. Sure, it would be wonderful if other writers wanted to join it, too, but my motives are primarily selfish: I need to be motivated, and remain focused on setting and attaining goals. If you want to be part of a group that does not demand anything of you, except a willingness to share information you think might be useful to other writers, then check out the following 
|
well, her question malarkey things, anyhoo  1. The book I am reading at the moment is... Still, Lynn Truss's Eat, Shoots, and Leaves (note the use of the Oxford comma  ). I can't help myself. I've gone and bought a whole heap of grammar and style guides... to go with the ones I got for Crimbo. Yes, I know what you're thinking, When are you going to start applying your new found knowledge? That's rude I like to know what I'm butchering.2. The last film I saw at the cinema was: G-Force... I took BA, okay? Don't look at me like that. Please. If I'd taken this two days ago, I could have been way cool saying Star Trek, but, as you'll know if you've been following my blog, no-one in the Manchester vicinity wanted to go with me  3. The last CD I bought was: The Killers. I really need to buy more music. 4. The last time I had a good night out was: At Darren and Sarah's wedding. BA was with us, and she owned the dance floor--when I gave it up, of course. I wore grown-up clothes for the day, but shoved my jeans, sneakers and a tee into my handbag (big Mary Poppins job), and changed for evening reception. Sarah understood. Gawd bless her. erm, we were the last to leave  5. The car I drive is: A Rover 400. Well, I am the Parish Administrator. Only the possession of a bicycle could make me more like Miss Marple. 6. The best programme on television at the moment is: It's all rather pants on telly at the mo. Hubby makes me watch Ghostwhisperer with him on a Tuesday evening, but he always cries at the end. I don't rollock him for it. Sure, I take the piss, but he has a right go at me if I dare to make sicky faces, shove a couple of pillows over my ass and do wobbly-lipped Melinda impressions. 7. The newspapers I read are: The Guardian. 8. My favourite building is: The John Rylands Library, Manchester. I love it when they host readings by authors/poets there. Its the most beautiful building in the world: on the inside and on the outside: http://www.visitmanchester.com/Parts4.aspx?ExperienceId=&PartId=89 While I love my city, I can't help but like a bit of weird, too. That's up to Liverpool to supply: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qh2esOoI1Y&feature=related 9. My mobile ringtone is: Like a phone. Just like my radio/alarm is an alarm. If music is used by either device, I do not respond to them appropriately. I tend to hum along to either device, pop down the disco in my dreams (radio/alarm), or look down my nose at other people for having an annoying tone (phone) without realising that its me. 10. My favourite word is: Funt: as in "What the funt?" (2000AD Sinister Dexter) 11. My dream sandwich would be filled with: EVERYTHING 12. My last holiday was to: Oddly enough, I can't remember... ooh, that's bad. 13. The last magazine I bought was: Glamour Magazine...  Ahh! I gotchya *rolls on floor* Actually, it was Glamour Magazine, but it was a year's subscription for my sister (inventive pressie buying is not one of my greatest skills)14. My last mystical experience was: *goes to look up mystical in dictionary* brb mystical • adjective 1 relating to mystics or mysticism. 2 having a spiritual significance that transcends human understanding. 3 inspiring a sense of spiritual mystery, awe, and fascination. If it transcends human understanding, how would I know that I'd had one? I do have a sense of awe and fascination about things, but it's similar to Homer Simpson's awe and fascination about donuts. I'm not sure that counts. I think I may be a mystical virgin.15. If you took my television away: I would call the police, you bastard burglar, you. 16. My favourite poet is: Roger McGough ... this week 17. My perfect Saturday night is when: I spend it with me. 18. My perfect Sunday morning is when: I am allowed to use glitter in Sunday School. I love shiny praise. 19. I would most like to own: erm, I want for nothing. 20. On my perfect day I would: end it with as much satisfaction, as I had started it with hope. 21. The TV programme I would like to be in is: Star Trek. In the original series I'd be a red shirt that refused to die. In TNG I'd be Q. In DS9 I'd be someone who visited and left quickly (I hated that section of space). In Voyager I'd be looking for any excuse to slap B'lana Torres, and in Enterprise I'd be looking to find a way to get Trip's nostrils on their own. As for the new movie? I'd be trying to out-Kiwi elisa to get to Bones. 22. The most-played artist on my MP3 player is: What's an MP3 player? Is it like a Walk-man? 23. I recycle the following household items: I have four bins in my kitchen, and five bins outside. I recycle everything I possibly can. This is not out of a sense of responsibility to the planet I hope to one day run--oh, no. I do this because I think John Waters will come for me in dreams, like a cool version of Freddy Kruger, with a loaded Kathleen Turner after Labor Day... not good. 24. My biggest weakness is: Another person's smile, stranger or friend. It just melts me when human beings shine out to each other. 25. I am: Xena's bra - impressively practical and mesmerizing. Buffy's high-kick - a little powerhouse of violent expression, usually on the dancefloor. Columbo's dress sense - erm, sadly, literally. Sancho Panza's loyalty - tilt at your windmills, mate, and if I'm not holding your coat, it's because I'm holding your donkey  |
 Here's me, worried that I might not ever get my plans for World Domination off the page and into action, and along comes Viv's Mystery Newsletter. I have everything that it takes!  No more the slightly plump housewife, church-goer and mother of two, with a penchant for twirling imaginary mustaches. No! Not for this wannabe megalomaniac Viv published a list of 15 common traits of a psychopath. Traits, which at one time or another, I have displayed! I have now self-diagnosed myself as possibly the best eeevil tyrant since the mighty Ming himself. I could almost pop with excitement, but what good would that do the glorious revolution that is me? I will, therefore, restrain my excitement. 1. Glibness/superficial charm [only with the ladies ]2. Grandiose sense of self-worth [well, I wouldn't go that far. After all, I'm sure others agree with my idea of my worth] 3. Pathological lying [only if you count that whole "I swear it wasn't me..." thing that I do.] 4. Cunning/manipulative [I have been known to wangle extra chillies on my tacos for free] 5. Lack of remorse or guilt ["I swear it wasn't me who (insert crime here, eg., 'ate the cake'), and it was shit anyway."] 6. Emotionally shallow [erm, well, DUH!] 7. Callous/lack of empathy [I do try, you know. Trying must count for something.] 8. Failure to accept responsibility for own actions ["It wasn't me."] 9. Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom [coffee, blog, coffee, tweet, coffee, write, coffee, shave eyebrow in a gangsta-stylie, coffee, practice impersonation repertoire, coffee] 10. Parasitic lifestyle [does lifeform count?] 11. Poor behavioral control [moments of booming Brian Blessedness roar within--and without] 12. Promiscuous sexual behavior [I guess I strike out on that one] 13. Lack of realistic, long-term goals [I guess I strike out on that one, too. After all, running the entire planet can't be that unrealistic] 14. Impulsivity [Sometimes, I like to play 'freezer roulette'... it leads to some interesting, if not dangerous, dinners] 15. Irresponsibility [I cook for others] Hey, and if that wasn't good enough, even Mr Waltz recommends freeing my inner sadist in this week's Fantasy Newsletter. Honestly, I don't know what goes on those blue little mod brains, but it's like they write those newsletters just for me... |
| Hurrah for local interest centres, libraries and art galleries. Why? Well, because my local library/art gallery has popped my name up in one of their display cases. I've got a dodgey photo (erm, my mobile's not the best, and with me behind the buttons, it's not even poor ), but will have to wait for hubby to upload/download it on the 'puter for me before I can show it to you. I hate moths. I hate their flappy deadness. They seem pointless and weird. Now, you'd think that I'd feel some sort of connection with them on that last count alone, but no, I can just about tolerate anything else that mother nature throws at me, save for the moths. With that in mind, way back in November, it was a Victorian display of moths that I chose to research and write about for a community project between the Oldham Writers' Group and Gallery Oldham. The writers chose an item from one of the stores (social history, natural history, and art), and then wrote whatever they wanted about it in under 50 words. A little research is a wonderful thing, and, bearing in mind that I should know my enemy, I chose the moths. I'm glad I did. I found out that most moths are not out and about in the UK when temperatures are lower than a steady-ish 16 degrees. I spent all winter, cheerfully puffing my smokes on the back doorstep, without fear of dive bombing attacks from the sky. Heck, I even went wild and left the kitchen light on while I did so I figured if there was one bit of information I had to pass on to the public, it should be that they, too, can cheerfully smoke their heads off during the winter months. So here's my pwem:Some folk bemoan the winter's frost-- Not me, there are no bloomin' moths. I like them best behind the glass; their beauty pinned: immobile, fast. Today the Oldham writers who had their work chosen, were treated to wine, nibbles, and a grand unveiling of the exhibition cases. There I was, or rather, there the moths were, with my poem slapped next to them. Sean, the curator for the exhibition, then went on to say that my poem would be featured in the new season's literature for the gallery. Ace I wish I had a more interesting name... I was chatting to CT about it. She's thinking of changing her name to her middle one (read her blog to find out more), and I always had a hankering to be called 'Cartilage Mantango', it sounds gristley, with a hint of a sweaty dance. I think that sums me up rather nicely. Well, it's either that or Petunia Skumthwistle (the 'k' is silent). *sighs* I'm not very good at names. I was reviewing my character names recently, and think I have a bit of a Dickens-On-Drugs attitude to them. Check out this motley crew: Grogan Flapsplatt "Invalid Item" Billy Scuggins "Invalid Item" Grogie Van Wattlehap "Invalid Item" Stavros Phithopilililodupos "Invalid Item" Vincent Grimworth "Invalid Item" So, what's in a name? Sure, Shakey reckoned a rose would still smell as sweet, but would you have wanted to stick your nose in for a whiff if it was called a 'Shit Flower'? I'd love it if I could name characters, and myself, with a bit more panache What's your favourite character's name, and why? |
| Cobwebs *blows 'em off blog* I'm a bad blogger. I don't blog enough. Oh, I get those little mental kicks that prompt my noggin to muse along the lines of, Ooh, I've got to wax lyrical and opine on that. I know! I'll blog! Only, I don't, of course. Here's a list of things that I've nearly blogged about: Bloody, buggering, BNP, getting seats in the Euro elections  Bloody, buggering family and friends refusing to re-watch Star Trek with me while it's still big screen Bloody, buggering impatient bastard behind me in the supermarket thrusting his shopping through on my bill and me not noticing until I got home Bloody, buggering lack of imaginative expletives in my repertoire erm, and very probably a whole heap more that my memory can't be arsed to recall. Cowsers Ok, so anyone who knows me, knows that I tend to leave everything until the last minute (no matter the deadline) and then tear into it. Suddenly, I'm bored, and on to the next thing. In other words, I hate editing, and am often genuinely surprised by reviewers reviewing something that I wrote, posted, and then instantly forgot I even wrote. That's why I appreciate receiving reviews as soon as I've written something: there's more chance that I will still be interested in it long enough to improve it, as well as there being more chance that I know what item they're actually on about. About 6 months ago I got near to the 1000 item cap that my premium membership allows. I chucked a lot out, and got down to 400. Sneaky typing fingers noted that I'm back up to 500. Lord knows what I've been writing Anyhoo, if I thought I was cutting it fine with my poetry entry in last month's Quotation Inspiration contest (created on the 25th June) "Invalid Item" , it was nothing compared to the 5hour write, research and polish that my July entry for Short Shots got (created on 31st July). Saying that, I was awfully proud of it, and the family were very well behaved in feeding and fending for themselves while momma hid away and typed like the clappers. In fairness, I did work hard on it, and the only reason I left it to the last minute was because that bloody fireworks picture mocked me with its lack of inspiration. How the heck can I pop Guy Fawkes on a beach? It wasn't until I was doing a bit of click link research (you know the kind: you type something like 'where can I buy cheap carrots' into google, and suddenly, eighteen hours later, you're playing Robin Hood on FaceBook with several tabs to the Tate Gallery open...), that I found a fascinating picture of depicting a member of Lord Dunmore's Ethiopian Regiment fighting alongside the redcoats during the American Revolution. It sort of wrote itself after that. Soooooo, I was trying to update some of my reviews in my Review Tool for Troublesome Musings, yesterday when ♥Hooves♥  popped in to visit my port after reading one of them on the Public Review page, and they kindly read, reviewed, rated, and slapped an awardicon on it Made my day, I tell ya.
Cleese I'm loving Twitter. Not because of my own, silly, contributions, but because I'm following some wonderfully entertaining people, among which are: John Cleese, Stephen Fry, and Bill Bailey (I love that man). http://twitter.com/acmetweet CT I love popping into other people's blogs, but am nearly as shoddy at doing that, as I am in updating my own. One of my favourites is c.t.moon's. Read it, and you'll probably soon see why. I probably never would have found it if not for Follow the Leader, so hurrah for that. |
| Oh, the workshop went well-ish. As per usual, when you get a bunch of writers together, the main topic under discussion is their work. I don't disagree with this; after all, writing is a lonely profession and solitary pursuit. That's why writing sites like WDC are so popular: if you aren't mainstream published, you want a voice. We ended up with about 20mins for the workshop, but folk seemed pleased enough to complete the worksheets at home. Homeworks are never mandatory--we see them as muse busters. Last week I set an optional homework for the writers to create their own 'dream journal'. Dream journals were introduced to me via a contest here on Writing.Com, and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the chance to write down what was going on in my imagination without worrying about plot/story/character development issues. Creating a dream journal is all about writing for writing's sake. While it might not be the best way to write commercial/popular material, some gems can be found for using in other items. Oh, and no one can tell you that you're dreams have to make sense, or that you should tone down their content; they just are!
|
| erm, no, not really--I'm having trouble with my titles. There's an urge just to write 'Stuff' as a title to everything. If that's what my inspiration is like for the short and snappy, just think what the quality of my pose is like *shudders* It's my turn to deliver the skill share workshop at the Writing Cafe tomorrow. It seemed such an easy thing to organise when I enthusiastically nodded, made my own noose, and said, "I've got a great idea. I'll ... " So, don't have any sympathy for me. I do it to myself, you see, and that's what really hurts... oh, crap. I'm channelling Thom York from Radiohead again. The workshop should be pretty simple. Its an 'on the spot' writing assignment. I like those because the ideas flow rapidly around the room and onto paper. People tend to go away with a feeling of accomplishment, instead of worrying about homework assignments that will nag at them when they're trying to watch CSI. I've written a short introduction regarding the use of dialogue in narrative, which focuses on the two main reasons it's there: to develop plot and/or character. A side and a half of paper is given over to empty text boxes where the group can add their responses to some basic scenarios that I've come up with, keeping in mind that the few short sentences have to either develop the plot or characters. Want to know the scenarios? The Ball Billy wants his ball back, but Ben refuses to hand it over Change your tags If you've used tags, check back to see if you can improve 'weak' tags. For example, is said descriptive? Try using action to develop characters and advance the story in the dialogue: Billy curled his fingers into a tiny fist behind his back. "If you don't give it back, you'll be sorry." The Interview James is nervous. His potential employer is an ex-girlfriend. Write as if you are James, eg: It was her. It threw me. Her gaze nailed me to the spot. "Karen? It's been a while!" "Two years, four months, and eighteen days. Take a seat, and we can get this over with." Point of View Now change the point of view to the other person, and see how your dialogue stands up alongside your narrative Your turn! Write your own snippet of dialogue. Reveal part of the plot and your characters, so that others can see your scenario in action. Okay, so it's not the best dialogue in the world, but hopefully the workshop participants will blast me out of the water with their take on it. Actually, given two minutes thinking time, I bet you'd shame my efforts. Show us yer dialogue! |
| Yes, me. I, the most intermittent, lackadaisical, don't-know-what-proofreading/editing-is, writerer, and abuser of commas, have got something published. Okay, so it's not real; it's just a free PDF book that gets donations for a charity that helps families come to terms with the death of children, but it's still published I'll add it to my list of "Writing that other folk have printed" published items.http://www.newfairytales.co.uk have taken one of my children's stories and will publish it in their third issue to help raise funds for their charity. The editor was chuffed to find out that I was from the North West of England as the last two editions have housed a stable of international writers to fill their covers. Issue three (erm, the one I'm in) will be available for download on 30th June, but here's the WDC original, if you fancy a look:
 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Sorry, I wouldn't say it if I didn't.... oh, good gravy, I'm off on a lyrical diversion... *sobers up to less musical blogging* Right. I'm a bugger. Not in the naughty kind of way, but in a 'Oh, she's a bugger, that one!' kind of way. I flounce in, flounce out, and then flounce back in again, with nary a care for some kind of sensible order to my life. Why? Well, on Thursday last, I took the Meridth Belbin test thingie: the one that tells you what kind of team role personality you are in the work place. A bit like 'star signs' give you an excuse to live up to the best and worst aspects that they pronounce, so does the Belbin test. I'm what's know as a Resource Investigator, and while this makes me a good ideas person, excellent networker, charmer, and dazzle man, it also gives me a list of what are know as 'Allowable Weaknesses'. http://www.businessballs.com/personalitystylesmodels.htm#belbin%20team%20roles%2... I, being me, have, of course, bastardised these to the point where they are now 'excuses'. I love me. It explained that Resource Investigators I can't commit to anything long term, have a distracted nature and low attention span, never follow through on idea, and never finish what they start... Actually, it didn't, but that's what I've now decided to take from it. Like I said, I'm a bugger So, now when hubby whinges about the house being a mess I come out with, "It's just my personality type, honey. Don't worry about it. Embrace the way I'm made, and allow for my weaknesses." Anyway, Thursday also allowed me another weakness: the dreamy, heady, addictive presence of one of my favourite people on the planet. I love Adrian. (Again, not in a naughty way, but in the way that a man loves a fat, Cuban cigar... is that Blackadder? Have I moved from music culture to pop-TV culture in the space of the same blog entry? Yes, Yes, I have.) Anyway, just as there are psychic vampires who suck the joy out of living, there a psychic pixies who sprinkle energy and excitement into the everyday and mundane. Adrian does this. That man has charisma. Anyway, I've got oodles of offline life happening, and logged back on to a humongous amount of email with one or two treats inside it. Like this one: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 'cor! What a marvellous thing ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| One thing I love about Stik is her ability to look at a larger picture. My mind boggles. Big questions are harder for me to wrestle with than little ones, and her thoughts on American Sexuality in her FtL lead are many and varied. So much so it's hard to concentrate on any one sub-question, never mind an answer. That said, another thing I like about her musings is that I often zone in on one aspect (probably a defence mechanism in my head, when dealing with ideas that are bigger than me). I zoned in on 'eras'. You see, being British, we're not taught that much about American history in school: there's so much history of our own where we were actually the winning side that I think school curriculum likes to focus on that; we're buggers for living on past glory. I love finding out more about the US, though. One of my favourite WDC authors, drboris  , is an Australian with a love of American history, so I've learned a lot about the Civil War etc., through him. Generally, following on from a comment from Elisa, I feel a bit sorry for America setting its historical bedrock with the Puritan arrival. Okay, so pretending I know nothing about how comfortable the indigenous people were with their sexuality (erm, not much pretending, actually, as I know nothing about how the indigenous people of America were with their sexuailty), I'm left with the birth of a nation from Puritan stock too.Poor things. What a dreadfully sensible and austere start to anything. I haven't a clue to respond to the big question of What (or maybe who) determines the boundaries of what is forbidden? so I won't try. Here's my tangent: I love the fact that British History doesn't seem to start with a list of taboos. It's been naughty since the druids stuck two fingers up at the Romans. I love the middle ages. I'm a huge fan of Jesters--yes, creepy little twats aren't they? It's hard not to blush at some of their buffoonery, and mostly at the costumes. I'm lucky enough to belong to a fabulous group here at WDC. The only thing you have to do to join is to write an essay about why you write. Gawd, that's a hard thing to do. Nonetheless, it reminded me why I did. Why do I write? Do? Why I write! I do write, why? I do! Why write? This is a question we ask all the members of "The Holding Pond" . Up until now it is also one I have managed to avoid. There is a very good reason for that: I quite like being popular. Why would my answer make me fear becoming unpopular? Well, not everyone likes a cocky bastard who tweaks the nipples of the Venus Di Milo, polishes the pate of Shakespeare and draws a Hitler mustache on Emily Dickinson. I write to subvert. To enrage. To piss about. To mock institutions. To abuse the English Language (actually, quite inadvertently). To amuse myself, and because I am compelled to do so. Compulsion is an artist's inner drive, the power of volition. Genuine artists feel compelled to practice their art in order to fulfill themselves or to find harmony in existence. They aren't happy unless they can create, and sometimes not even then. ~Sam Smiley, 'The Structure of Action' A good friend once told me that in order for Picasso's painting to look so shite, the guy had to learn to be a master first. That's the beauty of being a prat; when folk don't take you seriously you can make some pretty serious points. I'm a huge fan of jesters; like any coin with two sides, they can be wonderfully silly, or clever, witty, and terribly astute. A lot of the time if you give a person enough rope they hang themselves. I like to think the fella who passed them the rope was grinning as he did so; the inclusion of bells and a daft hat are a given. I'm also a voracious History fan and am proud of the British legacy of 'buffoonery', whether in literature (look at Falstaff in Henry IV), architecture (obscene gargoyles in the most austere cathedrals), and theatre (panto! http://www.limelightscripts.co.uk/scripts/history.htm) A little bit of Shakespeare never hurt: http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/hamlet.5.1.html Whether beautiful or grotesque, buffoonery or melodrama, writing gives me an artistic canvas to explore the human condition, provoke reaction and allow the reader to examine their own responses, thoughts and ideas through my writing. Oh, and they might let a little fart escape by chortling once in a while http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/4120607.stm ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| 'cor blimey! And here's me thinking I was a grumpy old goat! I think I'll go easy on myself and consider even my bad days to be a little ray of sunshine next to the whinge fest that is "Invalid Item" by A Guest Visitor I'm obviously a little sorry that she's so dour (shoot! I used 'dour' -- I'll be using the 'V' word next1), but maybe there was only me that found her lead entry a bit of a giggle. After all, there's not many folks who could get away without having a laugh about saying, 'Don't ask me if how I'm doing unless you want to know. I don't want to know how you're doing. Here's a list of how badly I'm doing.' Kudos. Hats off. Reminded me of one of my favourite comedy sketches. It's the Pythons, of course: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13JK5kChbRw&feature=PlayList&p=CDFEA6D52E5CC0EC&i... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Footnotes |
| A good friend stays silent as she waits with arms extended, knowing it's more important to catch you than to be right. wow Not much I can add to that, really. I suppose our phraseology is different, though. My oath to the Hen party was "I'll hold your hair back if your sick." Erm, it doesn't quite have that eloquent ring to it... One thing that Katwoman's entry did do, was make me start considering what kind of friend I am. Obviously, because I rather like me, I assume that everyone else does. It's always rather a rude awakening when others don't quite see the joy in making my list2. I remember this one girl coming over to me in a pub. She leaned in low, eyes locked on mine, with a grin like pitt-bull behind a bite shield. "If you don't stop talking, I'm going to smash your fucking face in with this bottle, before I shove it up your arse." "erm, right. I think that might be assault... I'll be quiet then, shall I?" Anyway, here are five items from my list of Acme friendship Pros and Cons. Pros From the moment I extend my hand in friendship it is yours, unquestionably, loyally, and as long as you want it. I will drop whatever I am doing to run to your aid. From the moment I make your first brew (tea or coffee) I will always remember how you like it. You will feel like a sunflower, basking in the rays of my love for you. I'm wonderfully embarrassing in social circumstances. Cons Hurt me once, and I will never forget it. You might get one more chance, but I'm not a fool. I'm sort of like a friendship baseball diamond, but no one has ever got to three strikes. I won't remember your birthday, your favourite colour, or what you wore last week. I won't remember your other friends' names and life details if they're not my friends too. I'll tell you when you're wrong, but will find it amusing, if unthinkable, should you point out any errors in my own judgement, even when you're right. I'm wonderfully embarrassing in social circumstances. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Footnotes |
| So many people I lost along the way - I loved the dignity that Mia Farrow showed during her split with Woody Allen. A quote of hers popped up about life and I loved it: "Life is all about losing and about doing it as gracefully as possible." I liked it so much that I plagiarized it in a song lyric. I can't find a link for that, so here's one which my husband describes as 'a beautiful story about Beethoven's fight with deafness and his perceived betrayal of his true love....music'. It isn't. It's about Tchaikovsky being gay, but who am I to split hairs... http://www.foundmyself.com/gallery/displayimage.php?pos=-29736 Anyway, that's not what this blog entry's about. It's about the last time I saw Richard. My Richard, that is. My Richard is actually 'Chirdy' to me. He's my best mate. We don't see each other often, but when we do, we get straight into mundane conversations about nothing, and a companionable slagging off of each other. We're a right couple of blokey mates. I'd take a bullet for him. I love him to bits. If it's at all possible, I'd say that in some parallel universe I am him. Oh, he's unsavoury at times, marvellous at others. He's a delight and a perversion wrapped up in one chunk of 'alrightish' skin. Nothing fancy, nothing ordinary, just Chirdy. Anyhoo, the last time I saw him he was splitting with his long term girlfriend to try pastures new with a girl from Arkansas. I hope it works out for him. He's on facebook, swearing and pratting about and being his wonderful self. He looks happy. She looks nice too (I get to see here post little comments on his wall), and anyone who can bring him happiness is alright by me. I can't wait to see him in another hundred years or so when our paths cross again, even though I can honestly say I don't miss him because he's such a constant in the people I love and know, but don't need to be around an awful lot. He's in my thoughts, like a relative on another continent, and that's good enough for me. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Poor Jenn! What a thing to come out with. I'll never forget the great Tom Baker coming out with a corking quip in Dr Who, "Ah-ha! A prize example of the inverse ratio between the size of the mouth and the size of the brain." Mouths don't half get us into trouble... Let me tell you about my recent faux pas with the Hen in our Hen party this weekend. Hen: "I'm starting to worry about the stag's do, now that I'm on my hen do. He's very easily led, and you know what his mates/family are like." Acme: "Oh, don't worry! What's the worst that could happen? I don't think any of them are clever enough to think of all chipping in to buy him a blow job." silence Hen: "They could do that? Oh, my God. They're going to do that. I couldn't marry a man who would let his mates do that for him. Oh, my God. How would I not know that they didn't do that. Shit. They're going to do that and I won't know, but the next time we did that, I'd be thinking, Did some prostitute do this to him better than I'm doing that." crying Acme: "erm, no. They haven't done that, and I don't think they're going to do that, and I don't know if they could do that, and I'm sure he won't let them do that, and ... shit ... I was just trying to make you feel better." Acme and Hen rejoin group of excited hen party gals Hen Partier: "What's happened? You only went to the loo. Why is the hen crying?" Hen: "Acme says that D_____'s going to have a blow job on his stag do!" Acme: "No! I did not say that! Heck, I was trying to make her feel better." Hen Partier: "Erm, you might want to stop trying to make people feel better." sigh ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| You don't look different, but you have changed FtL lead by Lynn was ace. I love a change of perspective. You don't look different, but you have changed No, I haven't changed. I'm a stalwart. A rather fat stalwart at the moment, judging by the hen party piccies that have appeared on Facebook. There's this blimp of a woman going around stretching my beautifully honed Claudia Schiffer body. Bitch. You don't look different, but you have changed I love you Star Trek. The new film's different take on the crew is ace. I'm sure there are plenty of folks writing thoughtful reviews on it, so I won't bother i) being thoughtful, or ii) reviewing it. I will, however, add some of my own insights (my perspective) on a few key things of note (well, to me anyway) remember that rather hot looking moody baddie from The Bourne Supremacy that gets his comeuppance in a high speed Russian tunnel car chase, before realising that Bourne's way ain't such a bad way after all? mmm. Drooly-drool-droolworthy as he was in that, he makes an ever yummier Bones. Who'd have thunk it? Bones McCoy can be attractive. Sorry, DeForest (erm, I know you're dead, but you might be reading this in heaven), but you weren't much of a pulse racer. Simon Pegg! Get you! One minute you're the only celebrity I wish I knew because of your love of 2000AD, and the next thing you know, you're one of the Trek elite, with one of the most convincing Scottish accents I've ever heard. Ace!You don't look different, but you have changed My hubby's prostate must be kicking in. He's turning into Victor Meldrew. I never thought anyone could out-grump me, but blow me down, he's a right old sour-puss today. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Okay. So, this isn't like me: leaving everything to the last minute. But them's the breaks. Happily, I should have plenty to witter on about, so here begins my marathon catch up of FtL entries! Starting with Ruth's lead: I find the input of others to be absolutely essential to anything. I get what she's saying, in the context of her blog entry: her friend's family have knowledge about her field of study that benefits her. In the most part, I completely agree with the idea of other people's input being important. In the most part. You see, when it comes to learning lessons, I'm afraid I don't often learn from other's mistakes, mainly my own. If anyone doesn't know, I've stopped smoking. Again. Time was, I'd look at all those people dying of cancer, take a drag on my fag, shake my head, and know the chances were high that I'd join them, but it wouldn't happen to me. So, I grudgingly stopped for two years to appease my worried family. When I started smoking again, it was like coming home. Oh boy, I'd missed it. Then mum's cancer got bad again, the kids started crying about me dying too, and my husband stopped snogging me, so I started thinking of getting them off my back. I loved going to the shop to buy my fags. I'd make the shopkeeper show me all the piccies on the back of the packet before I purchased. There's this one with a bloke with a fetching handlebar mustache. He has throat cancer. It looks horrid. I swap that one, if I'm given it. The counter staff don't bat an eyelid; apparently, lots of delusional smokers choose picture that don't offend them. Like I said, that's someone else's illness, not theirs. Ho hum. So, I'm three weeks into a smoke free existence, and it's pants. Other people's input can go to hell. If it wasn't for other people's input, I'd be happily killing myself with the most delightful tobacco-puffing smile on my face. Instead, I now have to cope with other people's input along the lines of, "Ooh, you're so grumpy!" and, my favourite, "I wish you'd start smoking again, you grumpy bastard." ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Yes, the filthy side of the Oklahoma! classic applies as well, but I want to concentrate on the other aspects of OfcourseIcan Syndrome. I want to help. I find it hard to look into another human being's eyes and say "No. I'm sorry, I wish I had the time and/or inclination, but I can't help you." I recognise this needs to change, and that everyone is only getting half a job and not a full one. In other words, I'm not daft. 100% is only 100%. It is impossible to give 110%. I heard a recent programme on Radio 4 exploring the idea of where this extra, magical, nonsense figure of 10% comes from. Look at the mortgages in the UK! Gone were the days of 3 x salary lending, and the heady days of 150% lending came dancing in like a drunk at a housewarming. But I'm talking about time, not money, so I should stick to that... If you've read my thoughts on future travel as a less physical and more mental progression, then you might realise that I am not fully grounded in reality. This is a noted character trait of OfcourseIcan Syndrome. I don't carry a diary, so if someone corners me with a "Can you help me do ______ on ________ at _______?" my automatic response is to say yes, because whatever I might have planned (erm, when I take time to check) couldn't possibly be as important as this person needing me to nod affirmatively. I've tried to follow the advice that says I should automatically defer with a well placed, "That sounds great, but I need to check my diary. Can I get back to you?" It goes out of my head in practice. I've tried to apply honesty combined with tact, but the only words that want to come out are either, "Why the flip would I want to do that? Sod off and find another patsy.", or, "Sure!" As I am never a one to cause intentional hurt or offense, I default to the second example. Is it possible to learn tact? I think the subtle art of diplomacy must be precious gift handed to the lucky few. When God was sat there filling the cup of human idiosyncrasies, he must have got to me, chortled as only Charlton Heston could do, patted me on the head and said, "Oh, let's just have a bit of entertainment with this one." Anyway... I was going to go somewhere with this... Oh, yes! I've come up with my own, highly scientific, experiment to determine if other FtLers suffer from OfcourseIcan Syndrome. Today, you can rest your brains from having to think of a following entry, and simple take this delightful quiz: 1. It's your turn in FtL, but the washing isn't done, and the kids still need feeding, do you: a) Apologise profusely to your family and beg "5 more minutes!" while you type like the clappers. b) Tell the kids to grab a packet of crisps and a Vimto , and tell your husband to turn his underpants inside out to gain an extra day's wear, so that you can type up an entry. c) Shoot off an email to Mood to say you'll be posting late and get on with chores d) Choose one, stick to it. No need to explain 2. You work12 hours a week, and love your job. People keep sneaking extra items of work into your tray because they, "really need this urgently". Suddenly, everything is urgent and you have 40 hours of actual work per week to fit into your time. Do you: a) Feel pleased that people recognise your commitment to work, and just get on with it as best you can. b) Cut corners on everything in order to squeeze everything in, because, let's face it, you're only human, but 'these things are URGENT!' c) Apologise to people and explain that it will have to wait until you can squeeze it in d) Explain the likelihood of their task being done shares a direct link with the likelihood of a pay-rise and increase in working hours paid. 3. You receive a monetary gift from someone who adds that it is for you to pamper yourself with. Do you: a) Buy them a thank you card and thoughtful gift with it b) Spend it on the kids/partner/those little things that are broken and need replacing c) Thank them. Spend half as requested, and half on a necessity. d) Pamper yourself. 4. Someone asks the dreaded direct question, "Can you _____ ?", at the most inconvenient time. Do you: a) Say, "Yes" and worry later about how the heck you're going to do it b) Say, "Yes" and railroad everything else that anyone has asked you to do, because this demand is the most recent and so must be much more important than a family birthday, hospital appointment, snogging partner, etc., etc. c) Say, "I'm not sure. Let me check and I'll get back to you." d) Say, "No." Answers Mostly As You are: Just a girl who can't say no. Often, this means to the detriment of your own enjoyment, and that of your nearest and dearest. Grow some balls. Be a girl who can say yes on her own terms. Mostly Bs You are: Acme. Oh, dear. You're about to get fired, lose your hubby, scar your kids for life, and all because your good intentions are paving the road to hell. If you don't want to go there, stop paving: have an nice mental breakdown (it's a great excuse for fecking up), and then use the imaginary excuse of "I would love to help, but my doctor says I can't." Mostly Cs You are: The can-do queen. You have a healthy interest in accommodating the needs of others, while making sure that you and your loved ones don't suffer too much because of your altruism. Just be careful you maintain the balance, because it's an easy slip in the direction of the 'A's. Mostly Ds You are: Gal of Steel. There's no way you'd cut your nose off to spite your face. You and yours are your biggest priority. Just be careful though: that small group could end up being a gang-of-one if you don't help out your fellow man once in a while. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
