“Take time to deliberate; but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go in.” Napoleon Bonaparte

Ideally, I’d find myself a fabulous mentor to help me to improve my writing. Easier said than done. I know people who know some of the ‘right’ industry people, but I’m discovering that it is not easy to put yourself out there. Not when your sense of creativity and competence at your craft, are being evaluated. The reality is, hearing any negative feedback would be like being directly dubbed ‘butt ugly’. No one wants to be insufficient.

Bottom line… I find it hard to hand over a piece of writing I’m passionate about so someone can critique it. It’s like being back at University. It feels like there are only two grades, pass and fail. It is particularly hard to hand over something I’ve slogged over when I know that my ‘reader’ will do their job and rake over my words with the savviest of eyes and point out not only any strengths, but every flaw, too.

Who wants to hear this kind of feedback? No one, but I need to learn this skill. I’m trying to improve my writing instincts, and part of this process is trying to detach and not take any critical feedback to heart. “It’s not about me. It’s about the writing”. And if what I’ve put together doesn’t make sense yet or doesn’t seem plausible yet, I’m just going to have to stop being a princess about it. If the feedback’s there, I have to embrace it and learn from it.

Picture a whopping fly buzzing above a golden puddle of honey. It wants nothing more than to tap dance in the sweetness of the honey puddle, but knows the outcome won’t be only sweet, delicious honey. For the humble fly and for me, not embracing the challenge would mean forfeiting any positive gains because ‘something bad might happen’. I want the sweetness of positive feedback, and if I have to feel a little challenged to get it, then that’s what I will have to do. But for me, humbly floating an idea about a short film or character or sub-plot, to someone, will always be terrifying.

I have to remind myself, just breathe and detach…
Keep smiling


Teen Drama…what a drama?

There is so much on the web for budding writers. I had no idea! It’s a minefield and just a little bit dazzling, particularly for someone like me who hasn’t ever really tried to be part of the writer’s community. Where do I start? I’ve recently explored attending a few Writer’s Workshops. At the moment I’m particularly interested in writing for TV. As well as other genres, I’ve always been drawn to teen fiction. The genre opens doors to a gritty, nonsensical and wild sense of liberalism that can journey anywhere a playwright dares to explore. To be cliché, I love the drama of the drama…

I’m working on a Teen Drama TV serial and am ‘loving every second’, even those moments in the small, chilly hours of an evening or early morning when hunched over my laptop in dim lamp-light, I just can’t get my protagonist and antagonist to properly show themselves with ‘just the right dialogue’ and ‘just the right action’. ‘To kiss’ OR ‘not to kiss’? Allow a visible display of affection OR let the emotion smoulder away like a simmering volcano? Conundrum!

I’ve made progress with my learning. Two days ago I downloaded ‘free’ Australian, Industry Standard scriptwriting software, Celtx, and now can’t believe I didn’t know about the program years ago. The program allows a novice to script like a pro, and for me, this notion is more satisfying than demolishing a whole block of Top Deck chocolate in one sitting. And anyone who knows me, knows that I am a shameless chocoholic and that Top Deck is my block of choice. Perfect mix of creamy milk chocolate and sugary white chocolate sweetness. Also, I downloaded the iBook, ‘Script Doctor’s 100 Writing Tips for TV and Film’ by Si Spencer. It cost me under $5.00 and I have learned plenty from the first 29 pages I’ve read.

Keep smiling

The Journey Begins

“It always seems impossible until it is done.” Nelson Mandela

Ever feel grossly out of your comfort zone, like you’re trying to breathe with a mouth full of cotton wool? Yes. That was me, recently. My world fell apart. Here I was thinking, ‘great…my life is on track’. I have a house to raise my daughter in, I’ve got a regular, high-flying and ‘permanent’ income trickling in. I could finally stand back and say, “I’m in a good place. I’ve done well, here.”

Not so! Nothing is permanent, so it seems. About a millisecond after my ‘happy’ and ‘contented’ thoughts started taking up residence in the shadowy and quite recesses of my brain, everything fell apart. Boom…just like that, I have no job. And for me, my job anchored any feelings of success. A little bit of wisdom I learned the hard way, ‘take nothing for granted’. I know, so cliché. But what I didn’t expect, was that, you can be an expendable element in the employment food chain, even if you are brilliant at your job. Anyone can be ‘surplus to requirement’ at any time.

A dim thought, I know, but this realisation bought me to another. I had no back-up plan. For a mum, this is unacceptable. I hadn’t actively cultivated the fullest life for myself. My career and mothering was everything to me. But when my job fell through, for a while I felt that I had failed in all areas of my life. My hair started falling out or breaking off in little brittle tufts, my finger nails and toenails hardened and began chipping and bleeding. I started having blood-ridden, traumatic dreams that had me tossing and turning or unable to sleep, one of which involved all my teeth falling out whilst my gums gushed with neon red blood. Fairly gruesome. Paranoia, anxiety, anger, frustration, and bouts of depression and feelings of utter helplessness set it, and for a long time I was useless and nothing could redirect my downward spiral.

Even though I’m still not who I was before all this, I’m able to look back. I was lucky. I had one stable thing to grasp; my family and my family-like friends. Without them surrounding me, building a mini-metaphorical fortress between me and the flood of trauma, I’d undoubtedly have lost my mind permanently, and not very gracefully, I dare say. A new friend, but a good friend, urged me to write in a journal each day. She said, “Just get it all out, spill all that f###### stuff out on a page, and say screw it”. She is a very unique character my friend M, and she was right on the money. At first the journal didn’t help. I was too devastated and teary to write, but then I started finding new ways to fill in my sudden surplus of time. I wrote my journal entries, most of which are unashamedly unsophisticated and foul, but are true and accurate accounts of how I was feeling and how unjust I felt the circumstances were.

The journal became necessary for the survival of my mental health. But I also picked up old, dusty writing projects I never had the time to finish. I just started writing. Play scripts and TV series pilots, the beginnings of a teen novel, song lyrics. Anything. I even explored Microsoft Movie Maker to see how easy turning a static piece of prose into film, would be. My mind started to run wild in a way I hadn’t experienced since university. New characters and concepts were suddenly forcing themselves upon me, and I had to listen. I wrote and wrote and wrote. And after finding it so hard to muster even a small smile, for such a long time, my body and mind were finally starting to loosen up and relax. Because of my beautiful family and friends, and because of my writing, I rediscovered my smile and along with it, a new sense of appreciation for being playful, relaxing and for loving and appreciating myself.

So this is how I rediscovered myself through my writing. Writing gave me hope. Writing was something I had always loved, and I had been told that I was good at. I even studied creative writing at university, but then pursued a profoundly different career. This whole mess, helped me realise that I can’t be true to myself and to the ‘me’ that I want to be, if I’m not embracing my need to write. I realised that I needed to show more respect this side of myself, instead of forcing such a significant part of myself, aside, like it never matter. Hopefully, embracing ‘all’ of me, not just the career-orientated and mothering me, becomes a recipe for happiness that will lead to a broad sense of self-fulfilment.

I have much to learn about the craft, but it’s time to get serious about my writing.
Let the journey begin,