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Blog of a newbie writer and her adventures with Sir Cursoralot - my cursor friend and foe. |
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First time at writing a novel, first time blogging at 51. Bloody hell, this will be interesting. I am writing under my pen name Amare (pronounced Ar - Mah - Ray) which is latin for my real name. I am a proud Aussie who lives in Queensland on an acre property with my husband and our 3 beautiful furkids (golden retrievers) I am a puppy educator for Guide Dogs for the blind and love the sense of achievement when we see one of our amazing pups go on to change the life of a vision impaired person. Raised 6 pups myself before working full time. A very satisfying and rewarding job. Now I'm trying to achieve something more personal for myself as a writer, a journey and maybe success just for me. Also working on self belief, self love, building my confidence, self growth and believing I'm worth something. Not an easy task. So come on a journey with me. Hopefully it will be a fun read from time to time, and it will be bluntly honest. |
| I asked this question to someone the other day, and they looked at me blankly for a second or two and then said, "Isn't silence, silence, like no sound at all?" And yes, that is the usual understanding of what silence means. At its core, silence means the absence of sound or speech. But it can be so much more. Emotionally, it can mean peace and calm, sitting in reflection and contentment with one's self. It can signal unease and conflict after an argument with your partner or close friend, for example. Silence can be used during times of grief to show respect to those who have passed and to take time to remember them in those quiet moments. Sometimes it can be used as power or control, to assert dominance or control. And sometimes, silence is seen as a space where truth or understanding can emerge. What's unsaid can hold more meaning than what is spoken. So what does Silence sound like to you? At this time in my life, I feel I am sitting in the silence of understanding and gaining truth. Sitting in my silence leads me to many questions from my past, my childhood, that I will need to work out for myself. I am realising that things were not always as they seem, and the perception of what I thought was really something else altogether. In my time of self-healing, this is proving to be the best silence of them all. |
| {photo:10702880 He realised there had been several deaths on this road, but his concern rose when he saw the exact number. "Maybe we should turn around, go back", Pete said as he eased his foot off the accelerator. This is the road, the one from all the newspaper articles from years ago. People who drive down this road are never seen again." "That's just a myth, a legend, an old ghost tale," says Zack, looking over at Pete with a grin on his face. "Stop being such a woose. You believe everything you read because you are addicted to tales about people dying, being killed. It's playing with your head. Just keep going," he waves his hands in the forward motion, indicating he is keen for Pete to put his foot down and get on with it. "Don't say I didn't warn you then," Pete accelerates the car up and heads down the road, which soon turns dark amongst the massive trees that line the road. So dark that he turns on the headlights to help him see where he is going. They soon see fog, drifting down upon the heavens, still not quite meeting the road, but blanketing the top of the car, and the temperature drops to where both boys can see their breath as they exhale. "Jesus, put the heat on," Zack complains, his jaw chattering, and he rubs his arms vigorously, trying to keep his body heat moving. Pete looks over and smiles at Zack, then lets out a giggle that sends shivers down Zacks spine. "What are you laughing at? Zack asks, wondering what has gotten into his best friend of 15 years. "Look who's being all scaredy scared now. Just minutes ago, you were telling me that I was being crazy, now you look like you've seen a ghost." Chills envelop Zack from head to toe. Memories flood his mind. Shadows descend and crowd around him. And then it hits him. Hard, and he imagines the pain from a kick in his solar plexus, a pain he cannot feel, but can recall what one felt like. His soul reminds him that this is not real. Not anymore. This is Remembrance Day. The day he died. The day his best friend Pete murdered him. On this very patch of road, on this very date, October 30th, the eve of Halloween. Pete knows how many people have died on this road. Not because he read the articles in the newspaper clippings, but because he murdered them. Waited just a bit further down the road from where they are now. In the darkness, in the fog, car emergency lights flashing, waiting for the kindness of his prey to stop and ask if he needed help. Zack was his very first victim, his rehearsal for the real events to come, he had said. And as he lay dying, Pete thanked Zack for his sacrifice. Thanked him for being the very best friend a person could ever hope for. As the blood bubbled up and sprayed forth from Zack's mouth, Pete held a small vial to the blood, trailing Zack's neck, capturing his life's blood. "I will always have you with me," Pete whispered in Zack's ear. "I will keep them all with me, forever. And on those days when I need to feel closer to you, I will take a very small amount upon my finger, taste your sweet life and remember how very special you were to me. They will all be special to me, Zacky." Oh how Zack hates his Remembrance Day. Reliving this horrendous death over and over again, year after year. He wonders why this has to happen, but the answers are still out of his reach. They are coming up to the bend now. Not much further to go, where Pete will start making the car jerk, like something has gone wrong, and slowly pull over to the side of the road. They will then step out, Pete lifting the bonnet to check underneath, and Zack, once again, will step out to see if he can help. What if he had never stepped out? Why can't he stop himself from stepping out? What would Pete have done then? But he did. He did step out, he did offer to help. As he rounded the side of the car, Pete glanced up and smiled at him. "Looks like we're cooked", and with that Pete's arm comes up. The one Zack couldn't see that he held at his side. The blade, long and lethal, does not glint in the light as it often does in the movies. It is way too dark for that, and the headlights from the car barely catch a glimpse as it swings down, towards Zack's neck. The sound is like a thud as it slices into the flesh. The blade catches and doesn't let go easily. Pete struggles to release it as Zack goes down on the ground, pulling both blade and Pete with him. Zack still remembers the motion of Pete's arms and hands as he wrestles to release the blade from Zack's wound. Zack doesn't overly remember the pain as the shock takes hold quickly. With the sound of wetness, the blade ejects Zack from its hold, and the blood flows more freely. "It shouldn't take long," Pete says, stroking Zack's forehead. "I'm sorry. I had hoped it would have taken your head clean off. Ended it so you wouldn't feel any pain. That was going to be my gift to you, because I love you. The rest of them will suffer, of that I will be sure. Otherwise, where is the fun?" As Zack lay dying, listening to Pete, he wondered how many would there be? How many people will fall under Pete's blade and the insanity within his soul? Why did Zack never see it? The life drains slowly but surely. Pete sits and stares, wiping the blood from the blade onto Zack's jeans. "Hurry up and go now, Zack," he says, like he's losing patience. "I can't be here when the next car comes. But soon Zack, soon, people will dread having to drive this road. They will pause, as we did, and wonder if they should turn around. But they won't. They will continue forward, come forward to me, and I'll be waiting. Gradually, slowly, Zack's soul flies free. Away from the car, away from Pete, away from the memory of Lakers Lane. Until next year. Until the eve of Halloween, where Zack can relive it all over again, and again, and again, and again. Pete knows how many deaths have been on this road because he commits them. And Zack will forever be, his number one. |
| Hi Everyone!!! So as another day draws to a close here in QLD, Australia, I was asked by someone on Discord, "Was Wednesday worth getting up for?" As they are only just rising for their Wednesday in America. My answer was yes, yes it was worth getting out of bed for. Was it a special day for me? Not particularly. It was just ordinary, really. I didn't have to go to work; however, I did do about an hour at home. It was supposed to be raining, but it wasn't, which, for us here at the moment, was a bit disappointing as we really need some rain right now. Everything is so dry. Then, the best part of the day for me: Ironing my husband's work pants!!! You cannot get more exciting than that, right??? I mean, seriously, how can you not want to stand in front of a hot iron and rake it over pants after pants after pants? SO COOL!!!! NOT!!! It is kind of my fault as I do let them rack up in number. But I had the music on and I danced around, got my groove on and found it not so bad. Thankfully no cameras in this house baby!! I spent the day loving up my furkids, which I will never resent, reading some of Iron Flame (great book, great series), listening to some crime podcasts and having a nanna nap!! For me, my day was sweet. Also chatting to some new writer friends on threads, Instagram and now Discord. Slowly building that circle of like-minded people in the writing world. So,yes, my Wednesday was worth waking up for. Was yours??? |
Good Evening, Everyone from Australia!! It is raining here today/tonight, and even though it's not men, it is a very blessed relief. We have not had decent rain in so long that the grass is dry, brown and crunchy, the plants are sad, and the solar panels on the roof are filthy lol. Hopefully, this will prevent hubby from climbing up on the roof to clean them, as we all know, sometimes men climbing up on things is a dangerous occurrence. I did warn Sir Cursoralot that today would be a minimal exercise day for him, and I was right. Today was a work day, and lucky me got to spend it doing a refresher CPR course. Well I saved the adult and baby dummies' lives and have my new certificate to say so!! Yay, I saved lives!!! In total honesty, I really believe that if something happened out there to someone, I wouldn't be a whole lot of use to them. Especially if blood was involved. I see blood, I go down!!! Not good. And to think one of my childhood ambitions was to be a nurse! Guess what? That didn't happen. But seriously, though, I hope I am never put in that position where I might have to try to save someone's life. I think panic would set in big time, and my poor little mind would be so overwhelmed it would shut down. How would you go in this situation? Anyway, back to the rain. I love the rain, especially at nighttime when you are climbing into bed and it's pounding on the roof and you can hear it splashing on the concrete. When you hear the frogs start calling out, rejoicing that the rain has finally come. The smell is divine, so fresh and clean, like it's washing all your cares away, at least for a little while. It's supposed to be with us for a few days, and I am just fine with that. My dogs, not so much, as toileting out there when they are getting wet isn't one of their fave activities, and I can't say I blame them. Well that's me for this Tuesday. I am off to bed to capture this beautiful sound while I can. Hope you all have had, or are having a fantabulous day. Amare xxx |
| Well, Sir Cursoralot and I had another good writing day together. My main character Mason, must be wondering what the hell has happened. He's on the move and from scene to scene, and for once, he had a positive day. A little win in what so far has been one horror find after another. Sir Cursoralot will be able to sit back and have a beer once I've finished my little entry here. Today was so hot you could cook an egg on the footpath. I am so grateful that for me it wasn't a work day and I could stay at home in the air con with my furkids. We had a little vet visit, and all is well. Well, aside from one having 2 ear infections, and one of the others is still healing a hotspot that has been on his face for about 5 weeks. I am just so lucky that he loves the cone of shame!! Yep, that's right, He LOVES the cone of shame!!! What dog loves the cone??? My beautiful boy, that's who. He's been such a good kid. But I don't understand. The dogs at work get hotspots all the time in the kennels, and they don't wear bloody cones, and they are usually cleaned up within a week. Oh well. Rowan is on some more meds just to clear up the final itchys and hope that will be that. I love that boy!! One of my girls who is 14.5 years old has had this weird growth on her toe, which looked like a tumour. My mind, of course, goes straight to the worst-case scenario, and she has cancer and is going to die. Thankfully, after 3 weeks of strong antibiotics, the swelling went down, the tumour has changed and in look and size, and the vet said that although she still isn't completely sure what is happening there, she highly doubts it's cancer because of how well she has responded to the meds. It will probably always be a bit odd, but as long as it's safe, I don't care!! What a day!!! Tomorrow, work. How has your day been and what worries do your furbabies put you through?? Rest now Sir Cursoralot. We may not get a chance to do much tomorrow so enjoy your time off. |
| It's the small things, right?? Sir Cursoralot is quite happy with me, and so is Mason, my main character in my first novel draft. I have shifted Mason from his room, which he has been stuck in for days, and he and Lavender have finally found the time to really start talking. Chapter complete!! Clap, Clap, Clap for me!!! Sir Cursoralot got some exercise and is feeling fit and full of energy once again, so tomorrow we may tackle the next chapter. One day at a time!! Feeling stuck like I was?? I recommend taking some time out. Apologise to your characters. Explain that they will remain in limbo for just a little while and that you will get back to them as soon as you can. Mason has forgiven me, I'm sure, and I feel so much better for it. It is only in our character's best interests that we rest when we need to. I hope that all of you out there feeling stuck and frustrated will soon rise from the funk and have your fingers flying across the keys in no time. I hope you do!! Amare Jane #2348587 - More Than A Journey Home |
| In some ways, this week has been unproductive in terms of my current novel draft. Again, Mason has not moved from his room after taking a few nurofen and listening to the sounds of the house settle into the night. He must be quite sick of those sounds by now and I imagine the Nurofen has kicked in. I am hoping to get back to him today and let him move on and give my cursor, Sir Cursoralot some exercise. In others, it has been productive. I have started documenting I guess you could say my journey in story form with "Random Tales/Two Side of the Same Coin. Not overly sure if that is the correct title for my collection but i can always change it. I am learning patience, and I think some resilience in this journey of writing. I have allowed myself to step away from Mason (my main character) and give myself time to let him rest and with it my mind. I would love to write this novel quickly and get it out there with the minimum of fuss. I would love it to be successful and quickly. I feel at 51 nearing 52 like I'm running out of time to make something of myself for me. To stick it to all those who have constantly thought of me as a nothing of substance. But then of course, all my self doubts, the devil voices come in as per usual to sweep my feet out from under me. But I am growing strong and more determined in this area as well. Pushing those voices back, telling them to you know what .......off! I'm also allowing my spiritual side to come back. My pagan side, which is another journey just for me. In the quiet times, my alone times, not needing to share to be able to embrace. So in reality, I have had a productive week. Have you?? I truly hope so. Tell me about it. |
| My main character, Mason and Sir Cursoralot are getting a little bit impatient with me this week as I have not moved Mason on from his current state of affairs. I'm afraid Sir Cursoralot and I left Mason having downed a good few Nurofen and listening to the house settle around him. After a horrific day of discoveries, he never imagined in his wildest dreams, Mason contemplated returning downstairs for some scotch but couldn't convince his feet to walk one step further, let alone down and up the stairs again this night. And that, my friends, is where I left him. I hope to come to his rescue sometime over the coming weekend and move him from one dreadful day of discoveries to the next. He probably deserves a good amount of rest so that when Sir Cursoralot and I get him moving again, he has the energy to face what is still to come. More Than a Journey Home: my first novel draft - work in progress. What do you use to banish writer's block away? |
| You ever have one of those days where you are just scrolling social media endlessly, looking at all the amazing posts, the in depth thoughts of those that write them and all of the views, likes and comments? I had a day like that today, yesterday, the day before that. In fact I find myself doing it a lot and wonder, How do they do that? I know there are all tricks of the trade to use like Canva and endless other apps to do a lot of the work for you, but for someone who is not overly tech savvy I find it difficult. And do I really need to connect with people this way? Why do I want to have all those followers, all those likes, shares and comments? I guess if I'm honest I want to reach people, to maybe say one inspiring thing that changes their day, makes it better, gives them something to think about. Believe in themselves and just encourage them from a total strangers point of view. But there are so many out there doing that already, why would I be any different to make people want to read what I have to say? What I can say is that if I hadn't decided to give this writing thing a shot, I would probably never have taught myself how to do an instagram reel or post a story using Canva, as basic as they are. And even though they don't stand out, and probably never will, I pushed myself to learn. I'm pretty stubborn and don't want to ask for help very often, maybe it's because I'm embarrassed to ask and too cheap to pay for the super dooper upgrades for the apps to make your stuff even more appealing. Anyway, I had one of those days today, and Sir Cursoralot again, didn't get much exercise. How was your day?? |
| Today I had great plans to write. Write, write, write. Instead, I'm sitting watching my little cursor blink, blink, blink. Bloody hell!!! What a pain in the butt. So as I was sitting, watching the irritating little cursor, I thought, I'm not going to place my frustration at your door. It's not your fault that you are patiently waiting for me to give you something to do. In fact, little cursor, you're probably frustrated at me. "What's she waiting for? I'm here, I'm blinking, I'm not going anywhere. Whenever you're ready!!" Well, I'm sorry, little cursor, but the brain is not engaging. It's like a blank page in front of me at the moment. But you know what, little cursor? You and I are going to spend an enormous amount of time together. We will be spending hours staring at each other or working hard. So I am going to give you, my little cursor, a name. I name you, Sir Cursoralot. Because there will be a lot of cursing on this journey of ours, you silently, as you can do no more than that, and me out loud and proud. So welcome, Sir Cursoralot, to this journey of writing we will together tame. What would you name your cursor?? |
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