Gardens of War & Wasteland, Other

welcome to whyt’hallen 03: archive – the sickness

Before the mortal Second Born crossed the Azure Expanse and came to settle in Whyt’Hallen, they had an established civilisation of their own back on the continent of Mey.

For a thousand years the native Meytarans thrived, raising kingdoms and cities and culture. Their growth seemed limitless … until the Sickness came.

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Short Stories

the dreambound tree

Memories define our sense of place.  Friends and family do too.
And sometimes, perhaps, a bit of magic

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By the time I was thirteen, I knew I was too old to be sleeping in Mum’s bed. But that didn’t stop me crawling in beside her on that two-inch thick fold-out mattress every second night when I woke slick with sweat from a nightmare.

‘Try to go back to sleep, Maddie,’ Mum’d coo and kiss my hair even though we both knew we’d lie there awake until the alarm chimed at three-thirty and it was time for her to get up for work.

 I never lived in a normal house. Well, I did—once. But I hadn’t since I was seven and we didn’t talk about it or actively remember anything of the life before we left. Since then it’s been caravans or share houses; granny flats in someone’s backyard; or a refurbished old shearer’s shed like the place where we lived now. Mum always told me to be grateful because it was the kindness of strangers and her hard work that kept me clothed and sheltered.

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Short Stories

the carpet cleaner

Robert liked his job. Well, most of the time. He didn’t like going to uni student share houses to leech booze and dried vomit off every plush surface the day before a rental inspection; and he didn’t like going to Ms McTavish’s place because she had ten cats and let them pee on the carpet until it was sodden and the house smelt like piss long after he’d shampooed and shampooed it again. He also didn’t like nursing homes, because it was too hard seeing people not that much older than he with defeated expressions on their sunken faces, confined to beds, stuck full of tubes and left to stare at the empty visitors’ chairs in their room all day. No, he didn’t like that at all. As with anything, there were good clients and bad, and the one client Robert loved, more than anything, was Mrs Lavingston. 

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june recap

Where has the month gone?

June has passed in such a blur I’ve lost track of what’s even happened. Seeing as how it’s been a relatively quiet month for me across the board, I’m going to use this recap to look back at the first half of the year as well.

Let’s break it down.

DSC_0148
Out and About: Husband and I chilling at Vivid Sydney.
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Short Stories

the house mate

I always take a shower and two Panadol before I leave home. I do this because trains make me feel dirty and I don’t want to contribute to the filth by setting my sweaty self down on the seat so many others have used before me. The Panadol are for the headache I’ll inevitably get once boarding the rush-hour carriage on my one-hour trudge to work. I repeat this ritual in reverse when I arrive home: shower, Panadol.

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drawing counts as writing, right?

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 is underway and I … am already behind.

While I could whip up excuses about how I’m tired and it’s hard balancing a full-time job, an online store, an exercise routine and house work but the fact of the matter is I’m just not focused.

I’m in the middle of a long chapter. A long, important chapter at that. It introduces a key character who has otherwise been absent from the action (referenced, but not seen) and, despite his apparent significance to the story, remains woefully underdeveloped. That makes me a little apprehensive to write. And so, like all mature twenty-something-year-old’s I did what I do best: I procrastinated.

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the countdown is on

One week until Camp NaNoWriMo July 2015 officially gets underway.

I’ve not had much luck with the NaNo experience, having quit partway through last year’s November haul. I made it to the 30k mark on a literary project specifically designed for the event only to label it a monumental piece of shite about two weeks in.

Since devising characters and a world for a fantasy project some thirteen years ago I’ve found it hard to forge attachment to any other story or characters while my original endeavour remains incomplete. I couldn’t make myself care about the characters I wrote for NaNo2014; I wasn’t interested in what they did or why. The whole thing seemed hollow and boring that, even for a first draft, there didn’t seem to be much worth pursuing. So I gave up.

Again.

This year, instead of try and squeeze a new novel out of nowhere, just because I think it has more literary credibility, I’m going to use Camp NaNo to focus on a story I’m actually passionate about. These characters have been with me longer than my oldest friends. I can’t give up on them.

Hopefully I’ll make it more than half way this time.

Fingers crossed.