Nicole R. Murphy's Blog, page 9

Forty-eight hours and counting!

Assuming all goes well and Virgin doesn't run late, this time in 48 hours, my plane would have taken off from Canberra, winging its way to Sydney. There, I'll do a terminal transfer, spend a couple of hours faffing around and then I'll be on my way to LA!

In one of those fabulous moments of head-spinning realisation of how the world works, I leave Canberra 9am Friday and arrive in LA 7.20am Friday – more than an hour BEFORE I left.

Alright, I need to stop thinking about that. And about how Tuesday April 12 is going to just disappear into the ether, never to be seen again.

Focus on the easy to understand stuff, Nicole. Like all the cool stuff I'll be doing. The La Brea tar pits. Seeing the LA Dodgers play. Touring Paramount Studios. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard. Going to San Francisco for a couple of days and seeing Alcatraz. Shopping…

Oh, boy, the shopping. Thank you, Aussie Dollar!!!!!!!!! Keep going, you good thing!

Of course, the real reason I'm going is the Romantic Times Convention, and I'm really looking forward to getting an idea of the American industry, meeting fellow writers and chatting with fellow lovers of romance. And funnily enough, catching up with the fabulous Karen Miller – even though she actually lives only a few hours drive from me, we have to go half-way round the world to have coffee and a chat.

Following the convention, I have a day in Pasadena (with tea with Gail Carriger) and my last day will be spent at Santa Monica before I fly back (and lose Tuesday – no, don't THINK about that. Poor Tuesday).

I want to say this – America better bloody stamp my passport. NZ doesn't, and it's annoying as hell to have already flown internationally on this passport and not have anything to show for it. So stamp, America. Stamp, stamp, stamp!!!

New depression blog

I've decided to start up a new blog to discuss my depression and how I'm dealing with it, so you don't have to sit through the posts on this blog if you don't want them.

If you are interested, you can read at http://nicoledepression.blogspot.com/ Currently, I'm posting daily. When I go to States, probably less so. If you've got stories to share yourself, I'd love to hear them. Happy to post them anonymously, if desired.

Year of the handbag–March–the boot bag part one

I HAD to post this, even if it's a bit early, cause I'm so thrilled with it. For the first time in my life, a craft item has turned out pretty much EXACTLY how I planned it.

I came up with the concept for the boot bag in January, as I started to think about the bags I could make. Turning a boot into a backpack – seemed a winner to me.

So here's how it goes: first, you gather the makings.

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A) a boot                             b) a piece of linen               c) a piece of jersey           d) some strapping

[image error] e) buckles and cord ends

The boot was second-hand from the Salvos – $9.

First thing was to work out the pattern for the internal sleeve. I measured the length of the boot, and the circumference in three places and cut it out of newspaper. It worked, so then I cut the linen. Next, I cut the jersey to make a collar at the top of the internal sleeve, two pockets and a strap for the keys. I'd worked out that I couldn't just let things fall down the bottom of the boot – it would just be too hard to scramble for stuff at the bottom. So my plan was to have a strap at the top the keys could be connected to and two pockets near the top, one for mobile phone and one for cards/money so they'll be easy to access quickly.

The first thing I assembled was the strap. I used a knife to cut a small slot between the leather and the sole and the strap was glued in there after first part of buckle put on. Then I measured up the rest of the strap and glued it to the top of the bag, so it would do up at an angle across the chest.

Next, I sewed all the pieces of material together. The key strap had a press stud put on it before it was glued to the top of the boot at well (the idea being it can either hang down the side or get pushed into the middle over the collar.

Then internal sleeve (with the collar attached) is then glued into place. Finally, the top of the collar is sewn around and then a cord put in to pull it closed. So the collar acts as the closure for the bag, and then gets rolled over the top when you're accessing the bag.

So the result looks like this:

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Yes, you are looking at a black stiletto boot that's been turned into a handbag. Exactly what I envisaged.

However, I'm going to be making another one because now that I've seen it made, I've realised there's some issues with it.

First, the back-pack element of it doesn't really work. It's going to be much better as a bag you carry in your hand. Secondly, the jersey is too flimsy (even though it looks great). I want to do again with a better material. Also, the initial pattern I drew up for the internal sleeve isn't as efficient as it should be. I did it with one straight edge, when really it should be like a sleeve on a shirt with both sides angled to make the circle work better. As a result, I just sewed the end together but I want to make it more like a tube. Finally, I originally thought I'd stuff the toe of the boot but then I left it empty cause I thought it would be a storage space for things you don't need to access much, like a jacket. But it's just not enough room, even for a little jacket that screws up small, so I think I'll stuff it to stiffen up the whole boot.

I had a dream that I'd use this bag in America. Now I've decided I won't – but I'm going to try making the hand-held bag by the end of March and will use it at Swancon.

So all in all – it came out exactly as I envisaged, which I'm really chuffed about. Turns out the reality of it isn't quite as good a bag as I'd thought it would be, but now I see how to refine it and I think it could be a really cool, funky bag.

I'll show you March part II within the next week [image error]

Me and depression

So as I said on Twitter and Facebook last night, the mystery of why I've been feeling so crap for the past couple of weeks has been solved – I have depression.

It ended up not being such a surprise. The night before I went to the doctor, was chatting to hubby and he told me I was sounding better and a few days earlier I'd sounded depressed. The word hammered into my brain and I realised that I was exhibiting a lot of the classic symptoms – fatigue, insomnia, mood swings.

Went to the doctor and within moments she was asking me 'the' questions – they ones they use to determine the diagnosis of depression. She asked if anything had gone wrong lately – I mentioned something a couple of weeks ago and next thing I knew, I was blubbering. It was hours before the tears stopped, although they're not far away (I can feel them welling as I type this).

She's called it reactive depression and said it's a form of grieving – this event went completely against expectations and has long-reaching implications. A dream I had seems shot down and I'm mourning the loss. I thought I'd handled the disappointment well and because the symptoms were pretty much all physical, didn't consider the possibility of it being a mental issue at all.

So, the treatment. A couple of people have asked about drugs and it was discussed. I've said no for the time being – not because I'm anti-drugs cause I'm not, I've seen the impact they can have on people with mental illness. But I'm doing a lot of travelling over the next month and I'd rather not be adjusting to a new chemical balance in my body on top of that. If at the end of April I'm feeling that I need them, I'll go on the drugs.

In the meantime, I suggested exercise as an alternative and the doctor agreed. There are some studies that have shown 30 minutes of moderate exercise at least five days a week is as effective for some sufferers of mild to moderate depression as the drugs. So I've been for a walk this morning. The good thing about going for a walk first thing is that, apart from the fact I don't have time to talk myself out of it, it means I start the day having achieved something, which is always good.

I'll be going to counselling. Free counselling is part of the service offered by the Federal Government for medically diagnosed depression (a good reason to go see your doctor if you suspect something is going on). Not forever, of course, but it's going to be a great help – not just in terms of helping me develop skills to deal with this current hiccup, but just in general. I've gone through a lot of changes over the past couple of years and then there's the fact I've never really gotten any assistance in dealing with the challenges of being married to someone with chronic health issues. When I think about the emotional and psychological pressure I've been under for a long period of time, it's really no surprise that eventually I cracked.

I'm back to see the doctor in a week to go through all the paperwork and get that started.

In the meantime, apart from the exercise, I'm going to do a couple of other things to help myself. Someone on Facebook (I believe it was Claire McKenna, thanks) suggested getting as much sun as possible (of course, that means that today is overcast) but I'll certainly do that. I'm going to get back into doing some meditation. My diet, thanks to the weightloss, is pretty good so I don't need to make many adjustments there.

I'm becoming the Queen of the to-do list. One of the things I've found over the past couple of weeks is that my ability to think and make decisions is really, really bad. I'll wander the house, wanting to do SOMETHING but unable to think of what. In that respect, having to clean the house for the rental inspection was a great thing, cause I had something I had to do every day. So in the morning, when I'm fresh, I'll make a list of things to do that day. That way, I don't have to try to think of things to occupy myself as my brain fizzles, AND there's the sense of achievement of ticking things off.

Made a couple of adjustments to my schedule last night (warm milk, watching tv in the dark for a while) and as a result had the best night's sleep in weeks. Still not perfect, but much better. Will try to avoid napping during the day in order to encourage sound sleep at night and rebuild my sleeping patterns.

And what can you do to help, if you wish?

a) If I owe you something, remind me. My memory is mush – I'll forget what I was supposed to be doing two hours ago. Don't hesitate to be blunt – 'Cause I know you're useless at the moment, don't forget that you need to do X for me'. I'll laugh and if I don't – well, revenge is sweet [image error]

b) Don't ask me what I want, or to make decisions. Honestly, the moment someone says 'Would you like to' or 'Do you want me to' my brain freezes up. It can't deal. If you want to do something for me,  say 'I'm going to take you out to lunch' or 'I'm going to come over tomorrow'. I'm capable of doing yes and no when an offer is put before me. This is one of the bits I hate the most – I'm the poster child for independence. But right now, it's how my brain is working.

I'm going to be talking about this – maybe I should start a new blog – because as I've said before, I believe that talking about these issues helps break down ignorance, increase understanding and those things combat prejudice and fear. So I apologise for being a bit of a downer, both in the past couple of weeks and for the forseeable future.

I'll try to post positive things – I've got lots of things coming up to look forward to. Saturday Tracey O'Hara and I have a road-trip up to Sydney for the Australian Romance Readers Convention. Then there's my week and a bit in LA, and the trip  to Swancon. As well, Rogue Gadda is in the final stages of preparation for the July release and I can't wait to be able to show you the cover – it's beautiful.

So – that's me, in the opening weeks of my 42nd year on Planet Earth. And wow – what an interesting year it's going to be [image error]

My first two 2011 short story publications

Yesterday, it was announced that Issue 50 of Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine is now available for purchase. With More Scary Kisses on pre-order (antho officially launches at Swancon in a month), that means you can now fork over money for two of my short stories!

Of course, you’re not forking over just for my short stories. Issue 50 is massive, and I was lucky enough to be able to proof a couple of the stories (including an Ian McHugh – the man is a writing colossus!) so I can tell you that you’ll be getting some great fiction for your money there. And More Scary Kisses has had a fabulous pre-publication review from Publishers Weekly, the industry bible.

More Scary Kisses

Edited by Liz Grzyb. Ticonderoga (www.ticonderogapublications.com), $15.99 trade paper (260p) ISBN 978-0-9807813-2-8

Talent shines in this beguiling collection of 17 paranormal romance stories from Down Under, many of which are more haunting and humorous than scary. Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice takes a turn as a barbaric demon slayer in Fraser Sherman's "The Sword of Darcy," while a sugar-crazed cherub does his best to reunite two lovers in Nicole R. Murphy's "The Protector's Last Mission." A telepathic tentacle monster reluctantly wedded to a human woman finds a way toward happy-ever-after in Liz Coley's "Marriage of Convenience." On the creepier end, both Felicity Dowker's "Berries and Incense" and Kirstyn McDermott's "Frostbitten" will leave readers with chills. Martin Livings and Talie Helene close the anthology with "The Last Gig of Jimmy Rucker," a brilliantly hypnotizing and heartwarming tale. Readers will be delighted by this introduction to some of Australia's best paranormal romance writers. (May)

Why yes, that is my name written there – *squee*.

So I thought I’d give you a little taste of the two stories.

 

I wrote this story in 2008 – it was the first new piece of writing I did after quitting journalism and focussing on publication (the Dream of Asarlai trilogy had already been drafted). It was a wonderful moment for me – inspired by a walk around Brisbane – because it was the first time I realised that my brain had been untrained from the journalism and was now functioning fictionally again.

It took me a while to find a home for it and I was delighted when Mark Farrugia decided he wanted it as his selection for this anniversary edition of ASIM. Old friends will know I was involved with ASIM for a couple of years and edited Issue 25. I’ve been wanting to get a piece of fiction in there for YEARS and was really happy when I finally cracked it.

The Fairy King’s Child is a different story for me. For starters, it’s darker than most of what I’ve been writing lately (although my dark is still pretty light for some people). It’s also by far the most lyrical story I’ve written – the voice is much softer and more passive than you’ll find in the novels for example.

Here’s the opening:

I always knew it was a fairyland.

The adults called it a traffic-calming device, the little patch of woodland that narrowed our street to a winding lane. Our neighbour, Mrs Pratchett, said it was a breeding ground for cockroaches and spiders and mosquitoes and mice. Mother said it had stopped the hoons, and that was what mattered. I seemed the only one that saw that wood for what it really was—the gateway to the fae.

Every time I went outside, I would stare and stare at the woodland and try to spy a little eye, a little ear, a little face. Whenever we drove through it, I would mist the glass on the window as I pressed my nose to it, desperate for a sign. When I was allowed to walk to school, I would pass past the woods, and each time I would sneak up to it, squint and twist and turn with the effort of looking everywhere I could for fairies.

I never went into the wood. Something kept me back, almost a fear of it. Now, I know it was a fear that maybe I was wrong. So I looked as carefully as I dared without actually discovering anything.

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Here ‘tis the Brisbane street that inspired the story.

You can order Issue 50 of ASIM here.

Second story: The Protector’s Last Mission, More Scary Kisses.

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This was the story that almost didn’t exist. I so wanted to be in More Scary Kisses – I was in the original Scary Kisses and it was one of my favourite anthologies EVER! The premise, the world, the characters for a new story, all came to me pretty quickly. I had just one problem – no plot.

As the last week of the submission period rolled around, I’d given up on coming up with a plot. I’d toyed with idea after idea, but nothing. Then, as I was going to sleep on the Tuesday, it came to me – crystal clear, absolutely perfect. Great, I thought. I’ll go fetch my tax cheque from the accountant in the morning, then spend the day drafting the story.

History will now show that, as I was walking down the stairs from the tax accountant all agog at my tax cheque, I missed the last few steps, fell flat on my face and twisted my ankle really, really badly. It was two days before the pain had diminished enough for me to think and I had one thought in my mind – my More Scary Kisses story.

Wasn’t able to sit at desk, so put laptop on lap on lounge and wrote. I got the draft done, got it quickly critiqued and sent it to Liz with a day to spare. I also got a badly cricked neck from writing in a very uncomfortable position and that pain didn’t pass for some time.

So when Liz, after some revisions, loved and accepted it, I was over the moon. This is more the typical paranormal romance that I’m finding comfortable to write – good characters, big ugly monsters and a sense of humour more quirky than safe.

This is part of the opening scene:

The Queen of the Fae was not the beautiful, statuesque woman that most fairytales spoke of. Actually, she looked remarkably like the real-world Queen – short, elderly, with tight white curls covering her scalp.

Except this queen wore long, whispery layers of translucent glowing cloth – not dowdy suits and florals – and she had wings.

Jazmine bowed, bending in half until she looked down at the floor before straightening. “Your Majesty, how may I serve you?”

“Jazmine, my dear.” The Queen came forward and Jazmine lowered her head to receive the kiss on her cheek. A sweet scent stole away the remains of Jazmine’s annoyance. “I’m sorry to ask this of you so soon, but you are the only one I can trust with my dear Gerbold.” She swept her hand toward the end of the room.

Jazmine looked and silently swore. There, hovering by the window and checking out the stitching on her curtains, was a cherub.

The baby with wings swung around, cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Well, hello, gorgeous.”

You can pre-order More Scary Kisses here.

 

Giving up on a deadline

For the first time since I started prioritising my writing in February 2008, I'm having to give up on a self-imposed deadline. The fact I'm not that upset about it seems to suggest that maybe I'm sicker than I feel [image error]

My plan, you may remember, was to have the draft of Hope Lost completed by the end of March so then I'd pick up Future Found and work on the reader comments in April. However, thanks to the absolutely strange things that my body is doing to me at the moment, it's not going to happen.

Honestly, strange is the only word. I mean, I don't FEEL sick, but I've been running a temp on and off for the past couple of days and did the same a couple of weeks ago. My energy levels haven't been good and some days have been absolutely woeful. Yesterday, I managed to clean out hubby's office in anticipation of the rental inspection on Thursday, but the job that basically only took 1 1/2 hours lasted all day cause of the long rest periods I had to take in-between. I wanted to go get something for lunch but decided I shouldn't drive – I just wasn't able to concentrate.

The day before, I managed to clean the bathroom, go to my father's to pilfer his books (he's moving and doesn't want to pack them all) and go to the roller derby – but if you asked me to actually do any thinking, impossible.

There's a part of my brain telling me if I just push through, I'll be fine. That I'm being a big sookie baby. There's another part of my brain screaming at my body to just bloody get sick already so I can get over it. In the meantime, I hover in this strange netherworld of knowing things aren't right although not that bad either but not being sure what the hell to do about it? Going to see Doctor on Wednesday, had blood tests done on Friday – will see what she says.

Am wondering if maybe, just maybe, this is actually all about depression – great, just what I friggin need.

So anyway, here I am – all relaxed about the fact I won't get this novel done by the end of the month. In fact, I don't particularly care if I don't work on it again in March. I'm grateful I don't have a publisher-imposed deadline – it's nice to have the freedom to be able to say 'nah, forget it'.

Even if the guilt is at times crushing.

The next ten days…

I've just packed hubby off on his trip to Tasmania. For the next few days, he's in Launceston playing in the men's open, then he goes down to Hobart to lead NSW in defending the Interstate Cup.

Usually, these times when he's gone are quite relaxing for me. Chores are easier, I can go all selfish and have my time schedule and do what I want to do when I want to do it (not that he's THAT demanding but the total freedom is nice). This time, however – not so relaxing, at least not until next Friday.

There's a number of things that need to be done. His car rego is due (although I'm all on top of that). More annoyingly, rental inspection is on Thursday. I was planning to spend this time doing a leisurely scrub of the house, top to bottom – a room a day. Now, I have to fast-track that. And I can't ignore the outdoors either and need to particularly fix up the back-yard.

Then there's the fact that I'm behind on the writing, and I've got some social obligations this weekend.

Most times, this wouldn't be an issue. When I put my mind to it, I can work at quite a level for quite a period of time. BUT for some reason, I'm really struggling with the fatigue at the moment. Honestly, I don't know how you folks with chronic illness do this every day, year after year. I suspect it might be the pill, but I need to get the iron and thyroid tests the doctor wanted done first before I go see her about that.

AND my back's starting to make it very clear that it's time for a massage. I've put it off for long enough.

I think about everything I have to do, and how tired I am, and I just want to cry. But I don't have the time for that.

Ah, the joys of being a woman, right? [image error]

Thoughts on sex scenes

Having devoured the Mercy Thompson books in January/February (I love Kindle [image error]), I was really excited to sit down with River Marked, the latest book which was released this month.

However, I went into the reading in an interesting phrase of mind because of a couple of comments I read on the internet. You see, while the previous books were overly concerned with sex (in fact there wasn't any for several books), when the sex scenes did come THEY WERE HAWT! But some folks were disappointed we didn't have any more hawt sex scenes in River Marked.

Now, I like me a hawt sex scene as much as the next girl (depending on who I'm sitting next to) and so I opened the book and began with a sense of trepidation.

Yes, there isn't detailed sex in River Marked (not that Mercy and Adam aren't having sex, cause it's their honeymoon y'all) but I was glad for it, cause it proved the first thing I'll be saying at my writing sex scenes workshop.

That is: a sex scene, like any other scene in a book, has to achieve at least one of three things – advance the plot, reveal character or build the world. If it doesn't do any of these things, it doesn't have a place in the book.

The sex scenes that Patricia Briggs wrote in the previous books were important because they did one of these three things. But in this book, there were better ways to achieve them, and so she didn't go there.

And I say – good on her. River Marked is quite different to the other Mercy Thompson books – it starts slower, happier even, and the focus is this time mostly on Mercy's past and her heritage, not everyone else's. Sex scenes here just would not have worked and would have been totally gratuitous.

And before you ask – yes, I do think that rule for sex scenes applies to any book. Even erotica. Of course in erotica, the sex tends to be the plot, you know *wink*.

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Romancing the West

This year, Swancon is joining forces with the WA chapter of Romance Writers of Australia to co-host the 2001 Romancing the West workshop day on the Saturday.

It's a wonderful thing – science fiction folks can be very dismissive of romance, so I love that the major sci fi con of the year is hosting a day for romance writers.

There's a day of workshops – most one hour, although Juliet Marillier's runs for two – dealing with a range of things for writing. Not all are specifically romance oriented, but will be promoted to and attended by romance writers (who will also get a day membership to Swancon as part of it all).

There's a mix of romance, spec fic and general writers giving the workshops, and I think they'll all be fantastic. Here's the itinerary:

9am – Writing sizzling sex scenes with yours truly.

10am – Finishing the Story with Kaaron Warren

11am – Old Bones, New Flesh-Inspiration from Fairytales with Juliet Marillier (I sooooo want to do this one)

1pm – Lunch with whoever you want to eat with [image error]

2pm – Structure of the Novel with John Cregan

3pm – Research-Not just a load of dusty old books with Anna Jacobs

4pm – Arousing your reader by Nikki Logan

At each workshop, there will be some prizes drawn, so not only do you get great information from some fabulous writers, but you could win something too!

Coming to Swancon? Plan on putting a bit of romance in your Saturday.

Not coming to Swancon? You totally should [image error] Day membership for the Saturday will get you into the Romancing the West, along with all the other Swancon events for the day.

A girl and her Kindle–a love story

I know, I know, it's only been three days, but we all know that true love isn't hemmed in by artificial constructs such as time. Society might scowl, but we know, my friends. This is true.

First – Kindle is punctual. I cannot stress enough how attractive a quality punctuality is. I am almost anally aware of punctuality and was delighted Kindle was also into it.

Second – Kindle is honest. Kindle is very aware of the conflict in it's nature. Yes, I am an electronic device, it says. But lo, I am also environmentally friendly cause of all the trees I'm saving from books not being printed. And to prove this here I am, completely encased in cardboard, with just a tiny bit of plastic to protect my screen. See? Feel no guilt that you own me.

Third – Kindle is a listener. Kindle followed my instructions and arrived in the correct hot-pink leather cover. Kindle already has a innate understanding of the dynamics of this relationship ie I am ALWAYS right.

Fourth – Kindle proved easy to use. Even when I got excited and did things wrong, it didn't yell at me or tease me but just sat quietly and waited for me to work it out. Kindle likes that I'm independent.

Fifth – Kindle is flexible. You want those documents downloaded onto me? Here you go, and what's more in just a few seconds. There, now you can go read on the lounge, or on the verandah, or in the park and never get stuck staring at your manuscript on your computer screen ever again. Kindle understands that while I like routine, I need to shake things up once in a while.

Sixth – Kindle is kind. Kindle understands that as the years tick over, my eyes deteriorate. Kindle gives me the ability to read in the dark (which hubby needs) without straining my already fraught vision.

See? How can I not be in love?