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Camy

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Blog Entries posted by Camy

  1. Camy
    I don't get ill a lot, so I'm a really bad patient. I know it. I know it like I know the sun rises in the afternoon and sets when it feels like it. Also I'm told 'you're a bad patient' a lot when I'm ill, so it must be true. And who was it that first decided chicken soup was the panacea of all ills? Whoever it was needs to be ... severely reprimanded. Probably Florence Nightingales uncle - who was on his uppers and had a chicken farm.
    Fu-Fu-Fu-Flu is not what I was expecting the last time I smooched M. God, I love smooching M. It's just so ... nice! Hmm. Nice isn't the best descriptor. Nice is a bit lame, really. Fantabulous comes closer to the truth of it. Anyway, I've got it and he hasn't, which strikes me as being just a little unfair. Of course I can't prove he gave it to me. I could have got it at Sainsburys, or at any of the shops I've been in, but as I don't go around kissing cashiers at the shops, my bet is M.
    What flu gives me is time to write. 'Ravelled Lives' is finished and nearly edited, and I'm tweaking with 'The First Day' and 'Sancho Shima NaNo', so they might be up before Christmas, too. The very last short from November's insanity is half done, and needs more than a smidgeon of work, as does 'Worth'. Neither are going to see the light of day until they're ready.
    So that's me. ARRRRCHOOOOOOO!
    Humph. *splutter - cough - sneeze*
    Ave y'all.
    Camy
  2. Camy
    I guess it's time to come clean and admit that no matter how hard I try I am an inveterate pantser. It's one of the reasons I mainly write short stories and not long and rambling novelesque things.
    All that seems to remain from my outline are the locations and characters, their names and their descriptions. Everything else has gone out of the window. Good or bad? I have no idea, and don't care so long as I get to the end of the first draft: then I can fix what's bust.
    I think I'm enjoying 'Worth' a lot more than I enjoyed either of the two that came in previous Novembers. Part of it is that there are a lot of us taking part this year. All of which means precisely nothing - except now I've said it I'll probably end up hating the thing and giving up - not!
    Onwards and upwards!
    ---
    I HATE days like this. It's bleak, grey, and drizzling. I came to the conclusion a while ago that I suffer from SAD (seasonal affective disorder). It's a sad, sad situation (thanks Elton) so with the aid of Amazon I bought a thing called a GoLite M2. It's the latest toy on the block for sad hypochondriac pantsers, and I've had it for a little over two weeks, now. Umm, and I think it's working!
    Yay me!

  3. Camy
    AGHHHHHHHHH!!!
    1761 when I should be at least at 5001 is peeving. Peeving I tell 'e. It's just not good enough!
    AGHHHHHHHHH!!!
    And, and, and oh poop. I picked the wrong day to give up sniffing glue. What? It's my blog I shall be as contentious as I like. And frankly - but don't tell anyone, it's a secret - I've never sniffed or mainlined glue. Or herbage either. Difficult to inject a large pot plant, anyway. Though why smoking one of God's own plants is illegal worries me. He/She/It gave us this wondrous (according to some, but not others) green growing thing in the first place. Did you know you can sail a ship with it?
    Waffle, that's what this is. Waffle to clear my mind of an insanely weird scene in a secret pub near Covent Garden. There are elves too. I like elves. And mountains.
    Nuff said.
    Bye.
  4. Camy

    12 ish hours to NaNoWriMo!

    By Camy,

    Okay, so I have just under 12 hours to get my act together.
    I have an outline of sorts, which is all well and dandy, but I wanted the whole thing nailed down. I wanted to know exactly who was going to be doing what to whom and when -- to the nth degree. Fat chance. I should know myself by now.
    I do, however, have a title: 'Worth.' A good and worthy title I'm sure you'll agree.
    Good luck to everyone who's taking part!

    Camy
  5. Camy

    And all is well - mostly.

    By Camy,

    After a fractious and car-less weekend, all is now well. My baby's back, though now her front brake discs are beginning to rub. :(
    It's most strange that not having transport readily available - even if you aren't going to use it - is stressful. I live out in the country and although there is a bus a couple of times a day, and I could walk if needs must, I really did keep looking out of the window and pouting at her empty parking spot. Still, never mind eh, all is back to the way it was ... except for the world's economy, which seems to be rushing ever faster down the pan. Hmm. I hope the two aren't related.
    Oh, and I've discovered mechanics can be quite eye-candilicious!
    Camy
  6. Camy

    'tis a pain, a pain indeed.

    By Camy,

    I'm talking about revision. You get back what you thought was a tightly polished story, and damn me it's suddenly got a plethora of 'things' that need fixing.
    I have one paragraph - a description of two people sitting on a bench overlooking a meadow - which it seems I've spent a decade on ... and it still isn't quite right. Oh, it was fine before, ;) but now, no. English is a very silly language. There are so many ways of couching the same thing, and each has something to recommend it.
    Then there is tense. I normally write in the first person, so it's a doddle (hmm), but third is so, sooooo much harder. On the one hand it's great, because you can have multiple points of view. But when you're trying to deal with different time lines, it's brain ache. And, and, and .... Pshaw!
    Anyway, if I finish my paragraph in time it will be posted this weekend. And the rest of the story as well.
    Camy: the brain addled Emu.
  7. Camy

    More Sunday babbling

    By Camy,

    ... because it's Sunday, which means I haven't blogged for a week. Not that that's anything to write home about: I've not a lot to say. However, now I shall vent as I'm annoyed, and might well soon be ill. Why? Because I happen to like cold coffee and hate flys.
    Obvious then it is to cover one's coffee mug: and if not, at least check for alien invaders before drinking from it. Obvious to all but me, sadly.
    A mouth full of coffee (nice) and a large fly (not so nice) is enough to send even the sanest Emu over the edge, and trundling down the hill of despair and insanity. Especially if the only sympathy said Emu receives is rampant laughter.
    -----
    I don't rave about bands a lot. I've no idea why. Perhaps it's because I don't think there are many brilliant new bands out there. Anyway, now I've found one. 'Elbow' are really, really good. And I don't say that lightly. Not that I think their name rawks. Far from it. It's a bit meh, really. Or, to put it in stronger terms: their name sucks. BUT, their music is sublime!
    They are the best thing I've heard in an age and a half, and their album 'The Seldom Seen Kid' is just Mmmm! Check them out if you've a mind ... or even if you don't.
    http://www.elbow.co.uk/

    - on You Tube
    - on You Tube-----
    Housework really pisses me off. It's such an unmitigated waste of time (I know you can meditate while hoovering, but it's damn dangerous when doing the stairs). So, I've been pondering the idea of selling my un-made bed. If Tracy Emin can sell her's to Charles Saatchi for ?250,000 - then surely mine must be worth something. It's got lots of 'things' hers hasn't, and I'd even sign a manuscript (perchance I ever finish one) and leave it under the pillows.
    So, umm, any offers would be most welcome.
    Yours, ever hopeful,
    Camy.
    - edited to fix the link to 'The Bones of You' - Thanks Des.
  8. Camy

    Sunday babbling.

    By Camy,

    Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, oh tranquil ol' Sunday.
    The day of rest, so sayeth the wise.
    Unless, of course, you've decided - in a moment of skint fiscal madness (and not my own, I hasten to add) - to 'do' a car boot sale.
    "Must I?"
    "Oh yes, it's fun, and we'll make money!" It's not that we ever do make money - or enough to write home about, anyway - but generally we have a laugh.
    "Oh okay then. But you have to get me up." (minds out of gutter please).
    So ... on Sunday morning I wake up, glare at the cat - who can sleep on, and stumble downstairs for coffee. Finally I phone him. It rings and rings. Eventually:
    "Mmmm ... uh ... what time is it?"
    "You were supposed to call ME!"
    "Oh ... so, uh ...."
    I relent and almost laugh. After all, I've had coffee. "I'll pick you up in half an hour, it's a beautiful day."
    "Umm ... do you still want to, then?" Unfortunately, I adore going back to bed: especially when I shouldn't. And even more so when I can get up later and watch Formula 1! Yay! W00T!
    A few hours later, during a commercial break, I get an email:
    Dearest Emu, I should be taken outside and horsewhipped.
    If you don't hear from me again, you can have all my equipment,
    (maybe you'll get a tenner for it).
    I am now going to disappear into the sea with some sad music playing,
    (some of my own, of course).
    Don't mourn for me, I don't deserve it.
    Goodbye cruel world.
    Lots of love, M.
    Guffawing, I turn off the TV and drive over - thus missing the conclusion of, probably, the best race of the season.
    Ain't love strange?
    Sebastian Vettel won. At 21, the youngest ever winner of Formula 1.
  9. Camy

    Blithering idiot!

    By Camy,

    I adore Ywriter software. Or perhaps I should say I adore the concept of it, it's great, and it's getting better and better and easier to use the more I write. Anyway, to cut a potentially long and vitriolic self loathing diatribe short. YWriter has recently been updated to a beta of V5. Complete with warnings not to use it for real work! It's in beta, and beta is buggy: obviously.
    So dick head here uses it to write a short story. It was a good short story, too (I thought while I still had it).
    Grrrrr!!!!
    Wail!!!!!
    Hey ho. Back to V4, and a re-write.
  10. Camy

    Once I coveted a Sony Reader

    By Camy,

    The idea of customer service and 'satisfaction' in the UK sucks. There, I've said it.
    Like a big kid I fell in lust with the idea of getting a Sony Reader. It's not that I can afford one. It's just that I've got a credit card, and I haven't gone mental with it for a while.
    So, on Saturday M and I schlepped into the local Branch of Waterstones. Waterstones is supposedly the UK's biggest chain of book shops. They have a deal with Sony to sell their 'Readers', and a dinky site to flog eBooks.
    "Do you have any Sony Readers left?" I pant, with eyes attractively on stalks, and fondling my plastic.
    "Yes," the po-faced sloth behind the counter finally puts his paper down, and answers. "several. Do you want to buy one?"
    "Maybe, but I'd like to see it working first."
    "Ah." He nods sagely. "There's a display over there." He points, and takes a breath.
    "Great!" I say, about to walk over to it and play.
    "But the display model has stopped working."
    "Oh," I stop, and my lower lip begins to quiver.
    "You can look. It's just that it doesn't work.
    "Not a lot of use then, is it?" M says acerbically.
    "I suppose not." The sloth picks up his paper as we walk over to the display.
    I decide the Reader is aesthetically beautiful, and rather pleasing, as I prod at its buttons, hoping that maybe it'll magically fire up. It doesn't.
    M starts to get annoyed. I know the signs. Unfortunately, a young and helpful Saturday sales girl doesn't.
    "Nice, isn't it?"
    "It's not working." M states the obvious with such gravitas and disdain I wonder why the young girl doesn't turn tail and flee.
    "Umm ... no." She says, still in helpful mode. She frowns, then brightens up. "It worked for an hour this morning, then stopped. Oddly the same thing has happened at several of our other branches."
    "But you have them for sale?"
    "Oh yes!" She says brightly.
    "Couldn't you put a new one on display, then?"
    "Oh no, we're not allowed to. But I'm sure it'll be working on Monday!"
    It wasn't. I went back and it was still broken ... which has rather put me off.
    Now, I'm thinking of coveting a BeBook.
  11. Camy

    Illogical

    By Camy,

    "Hmm," I thought as Rad Steven changed his name to RJ. "Perhaps part of my malingering malaise is my name. Maybe I'll change it."
    Reversing the letters you get Ymac. Which sounded weirdly peachy until I slapped it into Google. Not only is Ymac an acronym for 'Your Mom Adores Cock', but Ymac.com is a highly dubious web site. So, In glorious 'ain't done nowt except think about it' hindsight, I've decided I like me just as I am.
    Yesterday we went for a stroll on the beach. Shocked? I was. It must have been blowing 50-60mph, and to cap it all we got soaked.
    So I wrote a poem ...
    Musings on the Beach
    by Ymac Camy
    What is it about you
    that makes me feel giddy
    Why do I yearn to hold hands
    you're not classically pretty
    Your nose is too large
    yet your lips are just so
    and your eyes twinkle merrily
    as your smile makes me glow
    What is it about you
    that makes my heart beat
    Why is it when I think of you
    my faith in life leaps
    Why is it I mope
    when you're not here with me
    I love trudging through the rain
    hand in hand me and thee.
  12. Camy

    A rawky day!

    By Camy,

    I've been feeling really meh recently. Miserable weather does me in, and so far August has been a bleedin' awful month as far as weather is concerned. I'd thought that was it: another poxy English summer crawls to its grotty end ... and then today arrived.
    Today was magical! Today was shorts and t-shirt weather, with a long, long walk on the beach. Of course I should have been sorting out the container, but no chance. The sun pulled me elsewhere.
    The tide was so far out that bones of the wreck of the Amsterdam - a Dutch East Indiaman that sank in 1749 - were visible. This is a rare event, and pulled a large audience of gawpers, including M and me. It was odd to think of the people that lost their lives all those years ago. I think I was expecting to feel something. A frisson, maybe. But no: nothing. Obviously I'm as psychic as a brick.
  13. Camy

    Me and my container

    By Camy,

    I'm having problems divesting myself of crap. I don't mean that I have a blocked loo, or that my underwear needs cleaning. It's just that I have a container full of stuff that I can't seem to throw away. I wouldn't mind if it wasn't costing me a fortune every month, but it is and that annoys me a lot. So if anyone has any idea what I should do, then please, don't hesitate to say: sarcasm welcomed (I need a laugh), though bear in mind that a fire is out of the question as I have yet to find my passport and birth certificate. It's in there somewhere - sob-wail-gnash.
    M sends his regards ... or he would if he knew I was writing this.
    Ave.
  14. Camy
    I like blog categories. I've just created a new one called 'Waffley Truth' which is ... umm ... pretty much what it says. In fact as it covers such a multitude of sins, I think I'm falling in love with it. I used to use 'Claptrapish' and 'off the rails' a lot, but 'Waffley Truth is now definitely number one. Numero uno. Bilingual me.
    I'm working (jolly, jolly hard) to finish last years NaNoWriMo novel before I have to start on this years one. Actually, it's rather good, even though I do say so myself. It's good for a number of reasons, but the main one is that it's almost finished. Yay me.
    M wound me up something rotten. He told me he'd been offered a flat near London. I felt my lower lip begin to quiver, felt the prickling of tears behind the eyes - we were on the beach at the time and it wasn't the wind. Then he told me he wouldn't leave, and all was suddenly right with the world. Git.
    After reading Bruin's excellent 'Boarding School' series I felt it incumbent of me to write about what happens in the holidays to those who go to boarding school. I dug around in the old memory drive - it's more like a large and rather dented dustbin - and came up with 'Simon and the chimney stack'. As true a tale as you're ever likely to read. Hmm, yah. Anyway, it's in the Flash Fiction forum, which seems, sadly, to have gone a tad quiet. Feel free to write and submit some stories of your own.
    Ave. I'm away to my pit, perchance to dream of all sorts of rather nice things.
    Camy
    PS if anybody knows how to import a file from a canon camcorder into Final Cut and keep the audio in sync I'd love to know how.
  15. Camy

    Rowing not rowing.

    By Camy,

    M and I had a row today. I was in a foul mood and flew off the handle at a meaningless slight. Then, much like Attila the Hun, I told him to go f**k himself, and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I was incensed. Then, as I drove away, I thought about how he must have been feeling, and I almost ... almost turned back: but I'm nothing if not bloody minded, and drove on. A mile up the road the phone went off ...
    ... and all is well in the garden, Chancy.
    We went for a great walk on the beach. Weather bleedin' 'ot, and narry a cloud in the sky.
    I'm not good with rowing. In the past we've not talked for months, but now we're ... umm ... an item!? I guess I have to be more mature, and less of a kid about 'stuff.'
    Camy.
  16. Camy

    Splish Splash

    By Camy,

    I went swimming today: In the sea, and it happened like this.
    M and I have been taking daily walks. He thinks he's overweight, and he is a little bit - though I wouldn't ever tell him. He's gone on the Atkins diet, which, to cut a very long load of bollocks short, is a royal pain. I eat what I want, but can't do it in front of him as he starts drooling like Homer Simpson. He, on the other hand, can't eat any carbohydrates at all. None. It's a pain.
    So in the afternoons we go for a walk. Today, as it was blazingly hot, we were on the beach. We'd walked for miles (seemingly) trying to find a spot without other people, and finally found one. I was wearing shorts, threw off my shirt and after a bit of wincing - 'cause the pebbles were sharp and the water cold - went and wallowed. 'twas most excellent!
    On the way back we were walking by a row of beach huts, and there, sunning himself, sat a friend who offered us tea. A cold drink would have been just peachy, but no, a cup of hot tea is what we got. Only in England.
    All in all a good day.
    I can't wait to get him jogging!
  17. Camy

    Gorgeous Weather

    By Camy,

    It's gorgeous weather. It makes such a difference to my frame of mind. I'm feeling quite perky, which is good for many reasons, not the least of which is, I hope, my writing. I now have so many part written stories it's not funny. Just to finish one would be a wondrous delight, yet I'm beginning to wonder if I've 'shot my bolt'.
    Virtually everything I've written has been written during 'bad' times. I wrote to escape the stress. Now I'm not so stressed I'm finding it really difficult to write anything. Dunno. Perhaps worrying about writing is going to stress me out to the degree I come up with a peach (I like peaches).
    Or perhaps I need to change my perspective, somehow .... Or stop whining and just get on with it. ;)
    Rehearsals are okay, but not brilliant. The problem is we're getting so damn fed up with the damn set. I saw Bob Dylan an age ago and never understood why he'd start playing a song - then stop eight bars in and start another one. Now I do. He's probably banished beds made of brass on pain of death. Still, a gig is a gig, and I'm much looking forward to it.
    I hope it doesn't rain.
  18. Camy

    Stoopid bird.

    By Camy,

    Time and time again I do it, and time and time again I berate myself when I ... umm ... wake up.
    Never, never, never, never, never post stuff when in an altered state. There is an off chance that it might be okay, but the odds are similar to those of winning the lottery. Best not to bother - I tell myself yet again. Gah!
    Stupid, stupid me. Now, I must go and stand in the corner for an hour.
    Confused? Here's a poem I wrote about 'it'. Profound or what?!
  19. Camy

    Weird week

    By Camy,

    This is one weird week.
    I've received both an awful bit of news - in that The Hub is closing, and a great bit of news - in that I've made Dude's pick for July with my short story: 'JJ and The Boys.'
    First, The Hub. Rob and Kitty followed a dream, and built a small, but vibrant community. They went through awful trials, worthy of Greek myth, and finally won through. Then ... stuff happened, and Kitty left. Rob carried on for a while, but he has a life to lead and rightly decided that enough was enough. They were my friends, and Kitty my mentor and editor. Now they've gone, and I'm saddened. Truly saddened. The only upside is that Rob will have some space, and hopefully, he can start writing again.
    As Richard Attenborough said in Jurassic Park "Life will find a way." And to get a Dude's Pick has ... erm ... Picked me up. :)
    Thanks Dude!
    Camy
  20. Camy
    As a few of you know I've recently moved. It was a pain in the rear, and in order to get out in the time required I either had to throw a lot of stuff away or store it somewhere. Unfortunately I'm an inveterate hoarder - I don't mean keeping piles and piles of old newspapers or heaps of rubbish, but I've got a lot of personal stuff like photos and ... well, stuff. You know - or perhaps you're lucky and don't.
    Anyway, I got rid of two van loads at the dump, and then I found out about the concept of storage! W00T!!!
    A little on-line research, and I rented a container for a month. It wasn't cheap, but it seemed to solve a problem. I'd have a month to go through my stuff and 'rationalise.' Then I could throw away the real rubbish and keep the rest. A good idea ... NOT! The month has past and I've been there once. It's still full of ... stuff, and I'm not one iota closer to 'sorting out' anything.
    Ah well. Such is life ....
  21. Camy
    You wander along thinking life is almost perfect (I say almost, as perfection is really impossible) and then ... shit happens.
    One of my oldest and dearest on-line friends has just left the net, and I'm gutted. Gutted because they've gone, and also because I had no inkling - not the vaguest idea - that anything was wrong ... and I don't like it. The foundations of my 'world' have been rocked: there's been an on-line earthquake.
    But, as has been pointed out, change is inevitable. I might not like it, but 'that's life'. In the words of Gloria Gaynor "I will survive!"
    The net is a weird place, and investing too much of yourself in it is unhealthy.
    Hey ho. In other news: I've started writing again!
  22. Camy

    The Cats 'n' all.

    By Camy,

    We've been here now for three weeks, and the Cats have just started to get to go out. They love the garden, and especially the 'patio' which heats up in the sun. They seem to like lying on their backs and wait for their tummy's to be rubbed. Jolly sensible I think, and I'm going to do the same the next time M comes over ... provided the neighbours are out.
    The angst involved in letting them out was almost too much. The road at the front of the house, though not a main road, is not Cat friendly - unlike the last place we lived. I've suddenly realized how much I care for their welfare. But the bottom line is that they are not indoor cats, and pragmatically: what will be will be.
    As for me, I'm chilled, and starting to enjoy life again. I've even started to write a new short story - though in my darker moments I wondered if I'd ever write again. The thing is I'm almost sure that writing and music were the only things that kept me sane for the last year or so. And now the stress is over and done with I'm wondering if perhaps I don't need to write or howl ....
    Naaaaa. I like it far too much to give up.
    Oh yeah, we've got a festival gig in July!
    Oh YEAH! I've got a mac! W00T!
  23. Camy

    Me ... me me me.

    By Camy,

    I'm beginning to feel chilled and happy. The stress of the last year has finally vanished over the horizon - never to return - and it's summer! What more could a chap want? Oh yeah, that. ;)
    That's being worked on. *coughs and blushes*
    Ooops. I'm late.
  24. Camy

    Moved

    By Camy,

    So ... we've moved, and I can almost feel the stress seeping out of my body and evaporating ... or whatever happens to stress when it's no longer required.
    For the last couple of days I've felt totally dispossessed - like I was acting in a film with a weird script, and over which I had no control. Most odd.
    Now it's the cats that are stressed out. The poor things are going off their heads with angst. And because they can't go out for a couple of weeks, they spend most of their time slinking around arguing - or looking longingly out of the window at their new territory.
    Back to normal soon, methinks. Possibly ... hopefully.
    Camy
  25. Camy

    Tooooooooooo much

    By Camy,

    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
    too much to do
    too much bleedin' everything and not enough (read none at all) "how's your father"
    can't be bothered with capitals or punctu-blinkin'-ation
    must get back to it
    don't want to
    want to play
    squark!
    WAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

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