Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Dead. They are dead.


I have sons.
I held one son and watched him die. He was just a baby. It was horrible.
I still feel it, see it, wonder if I could have been stronger somehow. Just a bit stronger.
And now,
I don’t know what to think anymore.
I only know it feels like my heart can't take one thing more. Not one.
Two boys were executed today in Bali.
Two boys shot in their hearts.
We, all of us, felt it. Feel it still.
Mothers. Fathers. Brothers. Sisters.
Everyone.
I pity the AFP for their part.
They would have felt that hit too. Will continue to.
There's no way of looking at this but staring squarely at the inhumanity of it all,
 the very circus-like staging that overtook its place.
It's a mark that will remain.
It will be remembered.
And will you?
Remember?
When you think the beaches there so fine?
When you 'big-wheel' it cause your money just goes so much farther there?
Will you remember?
Those hearts? 
Please let us remember.
Two boys that had no arms to hold them as they died. 
Flowers animated GIF

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Catch it.

THE SOUND CATCHER.
DJ Vadim's work.
My work. 
An ex-cop by the name of Graham Garrity self-published MG.
All with the name, THE SOUND CATCHER.
Where am I going with this?
Well, I'd been working on an upper YA novel called the,
SOUND CATCHERS for a long while, years long.
It made the rounds at the publishing houses. Went to seven editorials. It didn't fly.
My story had a contraption. A murder. It had layers of sound.
A good title, a decent piece of Southern Gothic, but there
are three pieces of work here with the same title, and I'm sure if I dug around
I'd find a few more.
All are different, and yet, there will be an obvious thread that will link them,
and in Garrity's there is a contraption, a murder, layers of sound.
I wasn't all that happy, but, but, but, it's not
the same book, just some of the same ideas.
We can share the same patterns in our ideas, in our framework, 
but our voices, in words, in music, will always remain unique.
How many love songs have been written?
How many murder mysteries?
How many princesses kissing frogs?
We, our voices, in music, in words are unique.
It is said that every idea, every story has been written, but no one will ever write YOUR story.
NO one can write YOUR songs.
No story is ever the same.
Voice. Words.
The way YOU see the world changes every story, even
ones told over and over again.
Titles are titles. Scan Amazon for insight to that.
It's on the page.
It's in the voice.
Keep yours.
Support the sound catchers of the world!

Monday, April 27, 2015

Turning!

Worth a listen!
Meg Mac's "TURNING."
No visuals on this one, but I recently was introduced to "Serial," another
kind of listening. Amazing. Spooky.
And terrific to introduce the idea of listening to a generation that listens in another way.
TURNING...back. TURN around.
TURNING.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

57 Lives!

57 Lives! 
 I've spoken a lot about living life. You know, like living and writing kind of join together to form the words, flip the pages...but 57?
And, how did 57 fit into this book?
I. Am. Intrigued.
They say some people are fated. You know that they're destined to meet.
Something to do with leaving things unfinished and incomplete in previous lives.
In 57 LIVES, one boy appears in each of those lives. 
So who is he?
What's been left unfinished between them?
If they leave it, they'll be be heading for 58!
I haven't picked this one up yet, but I am very interested in how it's been worked.
I mean you'd have to be, right?
For as long as she can remember, 17-year-old Alex Wayfare has had visions of the past. 
Visions that seem so real they leave her breathless, feeling as if she really was onboard a ship bound for colonial America, or rising to the top of the first Ferris wheel at the Chicago World’s Fair.

But these brushes with history are not simple jaunts back in time,
 nor do they come without a price. 
Alex’s visions wrench her from her life in the present without warning,
 returning her with mysterious wounds and inexplicable, lasting effects. 
Desperate for a normal life, Alex wants to discover the meaning of her visions
 and get rid of them once and for all.
It isn’t until she meets Porter, a stranger who seems to know more about her than she knows about herself,
 that Alex learns the truth: she is a Descender, 
capable of traveling back in time to her fifty-six past lives by accessing Limbo,
 the space between Life and Afterlife.
With fifty-six lifetimes to explore, historical secrets to unlock, and hidden treasures to unearth,
 descending back in time becomes irresistible to Alex, 
especially when the same mysterious boy with blue eyes keeps showing up in each one of them. 
But the more Alex descends, the more it becomes apparent 
that someone doesn’t want Alex to travel again. Ever. 
And will stop at nothing to make sure her current life, 
her fifty-seventh, is her last.

Rich RAGE.

Almost finished and...
ALL THE RAGE is rich.
The characters real, three dimensional real. I know these people.
I see them. Feel them. I know what they're about.
I'm very proud of Courtney Summers. I don't know her, but I can still be proud.
She's a Canadian. I'm Canadian born.
She also has an agent I've had the pleasure of dealing with over the years, and is undeniably great herself, so I'm going to be partial on many accounts.
But it's this that speaks for itself.
All the Rage
I love the raw edginess in the writing, some just enough to make me blush.
Yeah, I blush. Sometimes. Not often, but I do.
Some quotes...
"Slit. Because "slut" was too humanizing, I guess. A slit's not even a person.
Just an opening."
That was a damn good, perfect slap.
Another...
"He reaches over and squeezes my hand, startling me with his sweetness.
But just because something starts out sweet doesn't mean it won't push itself so
far past anything you could call sweet anymore.
And if it all starts like this, how do you see what's coming?"
Yeah, how do you?
Trust is a something we "come out of our mama's with."
It becomes unlearned if you're unlucky.
So what do you do?
Go around not trusting anyone? How can you tell?
I don't know.
I truly don't know.
I listen to what my heart says and I believe in other hearts.
That's about all I can do, but I sympathise with
Romy in ALL THE RAGE.
I know what that feels like to not know.
It sucks.
It doesn't have to be about Romy's situation, but trust is still trust.
We have it. We lose it.
We need it.
We also need our hearts.
And that means we need
writers like Courtney out in the world.
Nature Landscape animated GIF
Up next!
Another strong and beautiful work in a different way.

Monday, April 20, 2015

The man behind the eyes

THIS, IS JAMES PATTERSON!
feature image
Those who know me --
 and there are very few who really do-- 
will know that I have a thing for eyes. 
They tell a story, don't they? If you dare look deep enough, that is.
And Patterson, well, seems to me his are the eyes of a keen and enquiring mind.
Want some insight into the man's life and his stories?
COMING SOON to the Athenaeum Theatre.
The man behind the eyes,
and the man behind these books.
Come take a wee look.
The Angel Experiment (Maxim...Along Came a Spider (Alex C...1st to Die (Women's Murder ...The Beach HouseHide and SeekJudge & JuryWhen the Wind Blows (When t...
Thanks once again to the WHEELER CENTRE.

                                       

Ends. Begin.

Where it ends.
 Begin.

A path to follow

Revive!
A PATH TO FOLLOW!
Where will it lead?

Friday, April 17, 2015

Nova Ren Suma Into These Walls!

Residences.
I apply. I get rejected. I apply. I get some.
I've got another one coming up and it's going to be small and special and a very pretty, pretty spot
---details to come--
 but, NOVA, NOVA, NOVA... CHECK THIS OUT!!!
This space, yep the very space below, is available through WRITER'S VICTORIA.
A cell in Melbourne's Old Gaol.
Yep, that's right. Your very own cell.
OMG_Int_1
Reading THE WALLS AROUND US, I couldn't stop thinking about the old Gaol.
Yes, there really are ghosts.
Halloween Spooky animated GIF
Yes, there are cells you simply can't bring yourself to walk into and if you dare, if you're brave enough, it's like one short of breath away from
strangling hands that have been waiting too long for someone to join them. 
I. Am. Not. Kidding.
It was that stifling. That intense. Not from lack of air, but from "something."
I can't remember the exact number of that particular cell only that I had to get out of it and fast, and
I never looked back.
I always thought if I did, someone or "something"
might have been waiting for a second chance.
Old Melbourne Gaol
Now I know I haven't exactly sold this place, but if you're writing the "right" kind of book, I couldn't imagine a better spot. 
Nova wrote that "right" book,
and no doubt she would have loved to get into one of these cells for a few of
the scenes in the WALLS AROUND US, but
 the book has been written and it has been read, and it's one of those books you finish
only to start again, perhaps a second read at the gaol? 
Hmmm...
The Walls Around Us
Writers Victoria link...
http://writersvictoria.org.au/help-for-writers/writers-studios/cells-for-writers
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