If you can’t colour in, we don’t want you!

This is what one reputable Australian literary agent told me the other day, well not those exact words but pretty close.

I got a detailed email from a Literary Agent last week saying that although he loved my idea and thought the premise was breakthrough and needed to be written he had pretty much given up hope on writing getting the respect it deserves in the 21st century, at least in Australia.

The top best seller in Australia at the moment. Wait for it. Drumroll. Colouring books for adults! Haha!

I’m sorry, I can truly not compete. I give up 😀 😀 😀

First draft, done and dusted!!!

SO…I finally made it.

There were a few moments that were touch and go but in the end I got there, which is the only thing that matters, right?

My first and a half draft (because I’ve been semi editing along the way. I’ve already been bitten once with The Last True Blood where editing is concerned and no, it had nothing to do with writing about vampires) of Un-Belonging has been completed, just under 80,000 words which I am happy about because all my previous novels have been so much more longer. If nothing else, I now know I can write something short and sweet. Don’t snicker 😛

Now the editing phase has begun, du du duhhhhhhh (that is meant to sound horrific and horrendously, spine chillingly terrifying). If I could have only sang it to you in my “melodious” voice, I wouldn’t have to explain the emotive reaction you should be having right now.

Once this first bout of editing is done, I’ll get some beta readers on the task.

Hope you’re all well. I think I’m going to go have a strawberry milkshake as a celebratory drink on my lonesome. Oh the perils of writing, it’s so isolated, at least that’s what I tell myself when my friends mysteriously remember their last load of washing that needs to go on the line every time I venture going out with them. I like to think it’s my cranium’s splendid ability to think that sets me apart from the rest. Eh, what can I say, I’m a positive, everything is peachy type of gal.

Now, I can really hear you snickering.

My First Guest Post! Yaaaaaayyyyy!!!

Thanks to the wonderfully amazing blogger John Guillen, I finally got the chance to write my first guest post (fine – I paid him, but who cares about the semantics?) .

You can find it here, basically it’s all about slitting wrists, woefully overdramatic behaviour, ridiculous notions of fame and fortune, you know, the general, pivotally relevant stuff I am all about.

I hope you give it a try! 🙂

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Don’t underestimate the impacts of first steps. Even the greatest of literary works out there started with their creators learning the alphabet first.

What Dwarf are you?

I got asked the other day what dwarf I felt the most connected to. After I had looked at my enquirer perplexedly and conducted my civic duty aptly by wondering aloud about all the lines of political correctness my friend had grossly surpassed, I was politely chastised to stop reading between the lines and just answer the bloody question already.

It was then that I realised that the reference was alluding to which one of the seven dwarfs in the ancient Snow White fable I felt I was most like. Seeing as I can never ever answer a query straightforwardly, I asked if the question was multiple choice. My friend told me to forget it and muttered something under her breath that sounded a little like “I should know better” mixed with a whole heap of curse words, but my other friend (who is a shrink by the way and I am still not quite sure why I feel the constant need to bring that up) has been telling me to let things go lately. So instead, I bit my tongue profusely and decided to go home and write a list of why I thought this exercise should have been multiple choice in the first place.

Even though I lead an amazingly exciting life, I somehow fit in the exercise when I (cough cough) had some free time and thought I’d share the results with you. Okay fine, I had absolutely nothing to do, so as soon as I ripped through my front door, I slammed my bag hard against my kitchen counter and wrapped my eager beaver fingers around my felt tip pen to release my maniacal onslaught by proceeding to scribble down my ideas on the half used serviette I had left near the sink in the morning.

I don’t think it’s possible to imprison yourself into a simplified notion of one personality group and when I think about it, the seven dwarfs in Snow White are just that, personality groups. I go through all the dwarf representations numerous times and often repeatedly in one day itself. Take this morning for example. I was happily Sleepy before an uninvited Grumpy pounced after I had realised that I had put my alarm on for a whole hour earlier, which lasted till about mid-morning when after scratching my head in confusion for the better half of a dawn, I felt Dopey for forgetting about the 24 hour format lessons I had promised mum I had learnt appropriately in Year 2. Then when I got home and saw my alarm unashamedly tauntingly flashing at me, a light bulb moment hit – my clock isn’t even in 24 hour format! So that was Bashful.

To top it all off, I have allergies early morning so waking up at the ungodly hour I did didn’t help my situation making me Sneezy all afternoon when I decided to self-medicate myself because I sincerely believe that being a Doc was my higher calling which meant that Happy was the only feeling left to experience.

I must admit, this was a tough one but I wasn’t about to let my friend win [because apparently I am quite competitive as someone very wise on this blog once told me – you know who you are ;)]. Then as I commenced reading down my list, my eyes glazed over in gleeful victory, the kind you feel churning in the pit of your stomach when it dawns that you may be on the outskirts of a very promising “told you so” victory because it was settled – my friend had lost. I had made six out of seven dwarfs in a little over half a day already and voila! That made me Happy. Score, 7 out of 7!

I tore the phone of its carrier thingy ma-gig and quickly punched in the numbers of my friend yelling maddeningly, “you lose, I win, you lose, I win. I made 7 out of 7”.

My friend who apparently DID have better things to do with her life asked if I had forgotten to take my Prozac again and about what the hell I was talking about.

I continued to give her a heated rundown and summary gawking at her inability to recall past events of only moments ago to which she dryly and succinctly replied “you need a shrink”.

Before I could barely get the “well the joke’s on you, I already have one” words out, I heard the dead end dial tone bullyingly boring into my right ear drum.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter – I console myself by knowing that I won, so there…

Should I be worried that my character is getting more interview requests than I am?

Paranormal Cravings just published an interview with one of my character’s, Adrinius [for those of you regular (EXTREMELY valued) visitors, you may have already read excerpts of this on my blog a couple of days ago] here: Paranormal Cravings – Interview with Adrinius O’Domhnaill.

Maybe this is what everyone means when they say you lose yourself when you write?

“Talentless” Writers?

I have been fortunate enough to meet and work with a wide variety of writers, some more “conventionally lucrative” than their peers, others more “emotionally successful” than their counterparts. But what seems to hold true for all of us are our many “talents”.

I think writers are among a select few who have had the unique “opportunity” to have worked in a wide variety of fields, and when I say wide, I mean mind-bogglingly, monstrously mother “you know what” massive!

You name it, and we’ve done it – from newspaper rounds, waitressing, checkout chicks or dudes and drum roll, the one job ALL of us seem to use as a fall back option – dog walkers. What amazes me is that I even managed to find “viable” university degrees to stretch as thin a layer as I could on the possible opportunities out there. As an Indian, not studying was not an option, that is if I wanted to keep my head (often useless) firmly on my shoulders, but I still managed to juxtapose as many unrelated, often detrimental roles together into one.

So much so, that one of the first recruitment consultant experiences I had (you know the type, the ones that instil so much confidence in yourself to face the obstacles life and a first job is going to offer) told me that my resume looked like a dog’s breakfast. I must admit to taking offence to that one. Sure, maybe I am a Jack of all trades and a master of none but let’s not kid ourselves – my dog’s breakfast looks better than my CV.

So what? We’re obviously a very talented bunch of people … or hopeless unfortunates, it depends really on whether you’re a half glass full or empty type of optimist. When anyone raised their eyebrow condescendingly at me as their snickered questioningly as to why I was bothering to study/do what I was, I would retaliate with a “how many people do you know who would labour away their lives doing what they can’t stand just so they can spend a few moments a day doing what they love?”

I’m fine with the blank looks and stares until some smart-aleck goes Vincent Van Gogh on me, call me vain – but I like my ear. And for that matter, my many careers, because I’m actually grateful to anything or anyone that allows me to write. So here’s raising a drink to our many collective talents – whether we make it in the literary world or not, you know your dogs are thanking us everywhere.

An Open Letter to All Who Care …

Dear Friends, Family & Well Wishers,

Can we please all collectively understand that I don’t have a magic, cute elf like in the Elves and the Shoemaker (I even added a link for those who want some proof, and there’s my academia coming out, the last hard thump for any failing creative writer, resorting to mundane academic concepts) that comes and sits near my laptop every night waiting for me to awake and see this amazing piece of literature that makes me go “eat your heart out Charles Dickens”, flashing on my screen every morning?

Even penning this useless excerpt has been tormentingly torturous – see I am so tired I’m getting all tautological on you guys, I’m starting to repeat myself just to fill in blank space. Dammit, I did it again.

This is me signing off with a sigh (in case you need a picture to feel any sort of sympathy) …

Diversity in Literature: Why “just White” doesn’t make the cut anymore

When I was about twelve, I was shopping in my quaint little corner shop, on the edge of a crooked country town road located in my modest, antiquated village. There’s more to this story … I swear.

I was at the checkout when I suddenly felt an odd patting, come stroking movement on the top of my left hand laid out on the rusty wooden counter. My initial knee jerk reaction was a stiffening of my limbs as I looked down at a little dark girl, no older than eight probably, staring up at me with large round black spheres for eyes. I was slightly perturbed and was about to pull away politely when my mum laid her firm hand on my shoulder, saying that it was okay and that all she wanted to do was assimilate.

I didn’t quite get it, but as an Asian kid, you soon realise, after coming out from the womb you’ve been renting for nine or so months, that what mum says goes. When I returned to the safety of my abode, I asked mum why that little dark girl was caressing my hand.

Turns out that that little dark girl was a Sri Lankan orphan, who had recently been adopted by her Caucasian Australian parents from a remote rural village, tucked away in some nondescript nook and cranny of the small island … and that she was lonely. Suddenly the words she uttered as she looked up at her parents in barely concealed glee coupled with excitement of “look mum, she looks like me” made a whole lot of sense.

While I was twittering today, I happened to (thankfully) stumble upon the #WeNeedDiverseBooks campaign, and man am I glad I did! The very first thing that popped into my mind is the incident that I just recounted to you.

Am I really as naïve as to think that diversity in our literature would solve that little girl’s (and those who have no doubt come after her) problem? Though I am pretty naïve … absolutely not. Do I think that reading about others that look like you in a non-stereotypical way, armed with nothing more than normal human emotions going about their mundane daily lives may help a little? I would suggest, yes.

When Literary Agents suggest that I write about more “normal” characters in my book, and scratch their heads/pull their hair out in frustration when I rewrite the bits they weren’t alluding to, I say I can read between the lines, I just choose not to.

A couple of hairless Literary Agents later, I remember that Little Dark Girl and think, in my techie speak, Diversity in Literature can’t just be a “nice to have” any longer, it’s definitely a “must have”.

Your thoughts?