Caught up with a friend before lunch. Now going to catch up with another. I'm having a very social day. Then I must brave the crowds to do my shopping. It's absolutely manic out there. I'm not sure why. The shops are only closed for one day. Maybe everyone is doing their last minute grocery dash to stock up for their parties tonight and tomorrow. Ah, who knows? I only want my regular food items. I'll let you know how that goes. Wish me luck!

Saw "The Day the Earth Stood Still". Not bad. Passable adaptation of the story. Enjoyable film. Not mind-blowing. 3 1/2 stars out of 5. :)

Manic Updates & Electronic Reshuffling

I've just spent all day online doing some updating on my web pages, blogs, forums, groups, etc. I didn't think it would take so long. Whew! Nearly all done.

I've updated my old SHIVA site. Take a look at my MSN live space.
http://ping.fm/R25NJ

Also I have a new Forum. And a blog. Yes, another blog! I think that makes four. The Runboard Forum came with a blog, which was a nice surprise. Very cool. I haven't really blogged there yet. I only posted a note to say I promise to blog real soon. And I will. Honest. Take a look at my Runboard site.
http://ping.fm/F5x8t
http://ping.fm/fCUeQ

Right now, I'm off to have a cuppa. Then I have to get ready to be all official at the Beechworth Threatre Company's last meeting for the year.

Catch you all soon.

Brittany K.

Competition - Brittany Kingston

New Year

Competition

This year, read yourself into a New Year with

some creepy poetry and two vampire short stories

by... well... me!

For a chance to win this special pack that includes:

"Where the Night Things Are",

"Sword of Anubis"

and "Shadow on the Crystal",

all you have to do is write the most imaginative responses.

Read the excerpt from the Shadow Runners below and add your versions of Jaxxlar's responses in the spaces indicated.

Go on, try it. It'll be fun.

Dorrraan’s smile sharpened into a snarl. He turned the ornately carved gold ring on his right middle claw until the amber stone flashed the same gold fire as his eyes. “I will be watching.” He stared at the aliens, memorizing their strange features. “You will stay at The Guardhouse tonight. You are expected, and your accommodation has been paid for. Report to Goornagh by tomorrow’s first light.” He turned and walked around the statue, disappearing into the garden just as his assistants had earlier.

Jaxxlar and Ranger didn’t speak out loud until they were beyond the temple grounds. It felt as though Beta-Dorrraan’s guards watched them from every shadow.

“This is a suicide mission,” Ranger commented when they’d put enough distance between themselves and Dorrraan’s spies.

Jaxxlar huffed in disgust. “What choice do we have? Thanks to your little escapade on Ghee, we don’t have enough credits between us to buy an hour with a whore.”

Ranger stopped and stared at his partner. “I wasn’t the one who got us deported.”

“I didn’t start that fight.” Jaxxlar glared at him.

“Really.” Ranger folded his arms across his chest. “Then I suppose you accidentally jumped on that murrahm’s tail.”

“Well,” Jaxxlar gestured expansively. “It just happened to be right under where I wanted to walk.”

“Of course. And you couldn’t possibly have stepped over it, could you?”

“That murrahm plonked his tail down right under my foot on purpose.”

Ranger shook his head and walked on. “And that was when you were wearing your restrictor!”

Jaxxlar caught up and kept pace with him. “YOUR RESPONSE GOES HERE”

“That sure does fill me with confidence. Especially since you nearly jumped on a murrahm two minutes after we got here.”

“I did not.”

“You would have if I hadn’t pulled you back.”

“He was arrogant,” Jaxxlar huffed.

“They’re all arrogant. They’re murrahm.”

“YOUR RESPONSE GOES HERE”

“How very reassuring. Those were your exact words before you started the fight that landed us here.”

“I didn’t start that fight!”

Competition runs until December 31, 2008

Hey, what are you waiting for? You have the whole rest of the year to enter

Send your answer to me at:

brittanykingstonauthor@gmail.com

Good luck!

Yours in love and light

Brittany Kingston

Check out my updated profile on MySpace:
http://ping.fm/U44ZL

The Art of Losing Files Successfully

Ooooooooh I soooooo hate it when I do that. Grrrrrr!

I've lost a file. Well, not "lost" it completely. I copied if from my desktop computer to the laptop. Now I can't remember which folder I put it in. Even worse, I can't remember what I called the file so I can search for it. This is so annoying.

Yes, I will go to the other computer and copy the file again. While I'm there I'll work on it. And that defeats the purpose of having a laptop.

The accountant is using my computer to update MYOB for me so I have all the correct codes, etc. for the coming year, so I've been kicked out of my office for a while.

Not to worry, I thought. I'll just continue my work from out here. That's exactly why I spent all that money on a nice new DELL notebook.

That's also exactly why I'm so annoyed at not being able to remember where I put that file.

By the time I find it, I'll have run out of time.

I can't do anything about it now. I'll just have to move on to something else, like... feed the fish...

 

Cheers

Brittany K.

All things domestic going on here today. Got visitors coming tonight so want the place to look its best.

Disasters Come In Threes

Disasters Come In Threes

How often have I heard that? A million times at least.

Well, this week it’s true. I’ve had three disasters.

Disaster No. 1: I turned the tap timer the wrong way and instead of turning the water off after an hour, it went all night almost flooding all my new vegetable seedlings out.

Disaster No. 2: I was told of the death of an old school friend of mine. This makes me very sad. Even sadder because we’d lost touch with each other. I thought she lived in another town and I didn’t even know her married name. Turned out that she lived right here. That makes me sad because I missed the opportunity to catch up with her. And, yes, I am more than a little annoyed that the friend who told me she’d died knew exactly where she lived, used to visit her often, and knew I was wondering where and how she was all these years. I can’t understand why she never let on. Even crueler now that I can’t do anything about it.

Disaster No. 3: I discovered that our freezer had been turned off some time ago and all the contents had gone rotten. I guess I’m lucky it wasn’t full to the brim with meat. Still, I lost all the frozen vegies I’d preserved, all the frozen meals I’d prepared, and, most irksome of all, our two Christmas turkeys. This is annoying because I can’t afford to go out and replace all that food. I’ll have to replace the turkeys. We need those. The frozen meals, sauces, vegies, etc. will have to be replaced one by one as I make, or preserve, them. Today I have to take a bin full of rotten meat to the tip. Ugh! I’m really looking forward to that experience! I’m sure I’ll be chased down the road by a huge black cloud of blowflies.

Over all, it hasn’t been a good week for me. I’ve been in trouble, yelled at, belittled, made fun of, told how stupid I am… I guess you get the picture. I feel really bad about all three disasters and there isn’t a thing I can do about any of them to make it all “unhappen”.

How did I react to these so-called disasters? How did it all unfold for me on a personal level?

It’s all written right there for the world to see: “I turned”, “I was told”, “I discovered”, “I wondered”, “I can’t afford”, “I was blamed”, “I was sad”, “I was in trouble”.

Yes, the dreaded wounded, wailing “I”, surfaced. Yes, it’s the “victim me” I was talking about in my last blog entry: Will The Real Me Stand Up? I’ve taken it upon myself to accept all responsibility; accept all blame. I’ve personalised and internalised. Now I must punish myself for my bad deeds.

Once again, I’m transported back to my childhood. Mum is standing over me, large and threatening, her face twisted, her voice loud enough to hurt my ears. I cower, I crumble, I feel small, guilty, terrified, sorry, devastated, and helpless.

I’ve had a life time of conditioning that’s hard to break. I’ve been conditioned to think that if something goes wrong I’ve been bad, or stupid, and now I must be punished until everyone around me feels vindicated and I am ground into the dust.

Well…

Stop it!

Just stop it.

The truth is, accidents happen. People die. That’s life.

Yes, I turned the tap timer the wrong way. It’s an easy mistake. Do I have to suffer eternally for my sin? What was the real outcome of that? The seedlings loved the extra drink of water and are all standing up looking great. Yes, I wasted a lot of water that we really can’t afford, but the world didn’t stop turning and we all didn’t fall off.

I’m not sure about how the freezer happened to be turned off at the power point. Did I do it? I can’t see why I would, but I could have. Anyone could have turned if off for any number of reasons then forgot to turn it back on. Everyone keeps telling me I was the one who did it, so I suppose I’ll just have to accept that. The outcome? We lost some food that we can’t afford to replace right now. However, we were lucky not to have lost an entire freezer full of expensive meat. I was in the process of letting it become empty so I could defrost it and give it a good clean. Well, it’s certainly defrosted now! And it’s outside airing having been sprayed thoroughly with disinfectant to get rid of the smell. It will certainly be crystal clean by the time we wheel it back inside.

Everyone blaming me is hard to take. It was a genuine accident – like the tap timer incident. It happened. Did the world stop spinning? Not that I’ve noticed – but then again, I didn’t notice the power point was in the off position.

I have no power over what other people think, say or do. I can only control how I react. People are being very nasty to me over this. I dare say, I won’t hear the end of it for quite a while. Don’t you love how people do that? How should I react? It hurts. Why does it hurt? Because I made a mistake and I can’t fix it. I want to fix it, but what’s done is done. I have to move on. I have to not let what others say grind me down into the dirt. I have to take my power back. Okay, a mistake was made. Yes, it was probably mine. And…? Get over it. Let’s not allow this to become a bigger issue than it really is. It is not of worldly importance. It’s not even a blip on the radar of my life.

The death of my friend is hard. I feel a lot sadder than I expected. Sad for a lot of reasons, and not just because I’ve lost all possibility of getting together with her to reminisce about old times.

How I feel about the loss is natural. It’s sorrow. I’ll cry a little because we drifted apart. I’ll cry a little because I won’t see her again in this life time. I’ll cry, then I’ll smile, then I’ll allow myself to laugh over all the silly, funny, things we used to do as teenagers. I’ll remember her and smile from that moment on.

That’s grief. It’s natural. It’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to wail and wallow in self-pity over this. I’m simply allowing myself to feel the full emotion of it all. I’m allowing myself to be sad, and then to heal slowly. We should never be afraid to allow ourselves to love, to lose, to grieve, to heal.

How do I feel about the “friend” who prevented me from having a lasting adult friendship with my other friend? The talking marks around the word “friend” say it all. No, I’m not wasting time on anger and bitterness. I’m relegating a negative influence into the “casual acquaintance” bin.

Yes, I did feel anger when I discovered that I was deliberately not told the whereabouts of my friend. I’m entitled to feel that. Anger is natural. I was hurt too. It hurt to think someone would prevent us from getting together for whatever reason. Her reason. Not mine. That’s not my journey. I walk a different path. I acknowledged the anger and hurt. I understood where they came from and why. They served their purpose in alerting me to an injustice, and now they’re gone. Injustice has also faded. If you come up against a minor injustice that does no more than give you a brief sting, feel it, acknowledge it, recognise it for what it is and where it sprang from, then let it fade away.

The sun is shining outside today. It’s one of those perfect, cloudless, days you read about in books.

I’m going to go outside with a cup of tea [that old gypsy remedy for everything] and let the sun dry my tears. Then I’ll get to work weeding my garden, cleaning the freezer, and then I’ll go join some friends of mine for a pre-Christmas get-together.

So… here’s to you, Mardi, my old friend. I remember you with love and laughter. You’ll be forever young in my mind.

Cheers

Brittany K.

Will the Real Me Stand Up?

Will the Real Me Stand Up?

I just read Maia Berens blog titled "A Part of Me" http://allaboutlifecoaching.com.

It's true, you know. We are all many selves. In fact, I'd be suspicious of someone who claims they aren't.

Which part of this chameleon personality is the real me? The artist? The Gypsy? The musician? The writer? The me who mopes around the house begrudgingly doing all the dirty work? The me who meets friends up the street for a coffee and laughs for no reason at all?

They're all me. Even the "bad" bits. The judgemental me is a bit hard to take. I try to sit on that one when it appears. Angry me hardly ever surfaces, but the resentful one can sneak up on the rest of me if I don't watch it. And, while we're at it, the childish me is always a small step away from pouting when things don't go my way. By far the hardest me to take is the weak me—the one who is taken for granted, stepped on, made to feel inadequate, and allows all this to happen time after time. That me is the victim.

So which me do I like the best?

I guess I've learned to like them all. They all have their uses, their reasons for being. They all play their parts in my personality. They're all familiar to me, all well used and comfortable. I slip from one to another all day long, depending who I'm talking to at any given moment.

There are mes I once thought I could banish. That was way back in my teens when I was struggling to find me. My reasoning was that if I completely banished hate, bitterness, resentment, weakness—especially weakness—then I'd be a better person.

The truth is, I couldn't, nor should I even try, to banish any parts of my personality. I've learned who my different parts are, what they represent, when, how and why they surface. And, I've learned to respect them all. They've all played their parts in my survival over the difficult years of my childhood and teen years. They all keep me balanced as an adult.

It is true that there are some aspects of my personality that could do with a little improvement, but they're [hopefully] balanced by their opposites. Recognising the many mes was the first step to learning how to deal with them whenever they pop up.

Love and understanding binds all the different mes together now. I know me. I understand how I work, why I feel the way I do when certain things happen or are said. I recognise each me as it surfaces and I know how to deal with it.

I no longer feel ashamed and berate myself if the resentful or angry me makes an appearance. That's ok. They need to be heard occasionally. I give myself permission to feel. I don't give myself permission to be consumed by any one emotion, nor to be ruled by one. I understand myself better than anyone else, and I know I have the power to choose my own reactions.

Most of the time, I choose to walk in light and love. I choose to let peace and happiness into my heart. At no time do I block out all the negative emotions. They have their roles to play. I simply choose which path to walk.

Walk in love and light.

Cheers

Brittany K.

All Things Un-Writing

 

Not that I'm procrastinating or anything...

I just can't seem to get any significant writing done this month. My usual monthly word count is right up there, but ever since I signed on for NaNoWriMo, I've had no end of distractions and minor, unimportant, annoyances to keep me away from the computer.

All November I've managed to blog, plurk, twitter and email as usual, but the moment I sit down with a spare half day to get some real writing work done.... [insert sigh here]

What is it about November that makes it unsuitable for writing? Is it too close to Christmas? Maybe the "silly season" has started early this year. I've already noticed a manic pace around the streets.

Whatever the cause, it has started to intrude upon my quiet writing space.

I still haven't given up on NaNoWriMo. I won't make my 50,000 word count,  but I'm going down fighting. Even with the distractions, I've written more than 20,000 words. That's not bad considering how little time I've had.

So, if you're out there somewhere struggling with your writing and feeling like you're not getting anywhere, you're not alone. I'm struggling away here too.

It's a writer thing, I think. We just never give up. Even if it's only a paragraph a day, we keep on writing.

Smile, fellow writers, it's only November. It too will pass.

Cheers

Brittany K.

NaNoWriting Done This Month

November No Writing Month

November 1 was our wedding anniversary and both Geoff and I forgot. We remembered later in the day, but with work and other commitments, it almost slipped by us without as much as a peep.

That set the tone for the rest of this month.

I was enthusiastic about signing on for NaNoWriMo for the first time. I was ready. Mark of the Condemned needed to be written and I needed to finish the final edits on The Shadow Runners. Perfect. NaNoWriMo was going to be the launching pad to energize the rest of my writing year.

And then... the garden needed to be totally cleared of weeds and scrub because snake season arrived. We have many nasty little [and not so little] serpents living in our space. Or, more accurately, we live in their space. The war of the weeds is a constant battle here. Snakes can hide right under your feet. They're masters of disguise. Not only that, but fire season is approaching and the less fuel there is to burn, the better off we'll be.

...and then... our vegetables had to be planted. The cost of living has risen here, as it has everywhere else in the world. Also, you can never be quite sure exactly what is on the food you buy. If you grow it yourself, at least you know there are no strange things added to or sprayed on it.

...and then... there's always the constant flow of visitors, friends and family who come and go. I have often threatened to replace our main entrance with a revolving door.

...and then... I had artistic commitments. There were paintings to paint, prepare and exhibit. That was huge fun, but loads of work and very time consuming.

...and then... came the usual unexpected events, illnesses, deaths, funerals, weddings, meetings and emergency journeys that go along with being in a family.

...and, well, I guess you're getting the picture. Life got in the way of writing.

November has been a disaster for my writing. All my best intentions have flown out of the window. You can bet that the moment I sit on that office chair, someone will come in, the phone will ring, something will happen, housework demands to be done, bills scream out to be paid, and off I go again.

Even with all the above, I have managed a few pages of quality writing. Nowhere near enough—nowhere near my usual monthly total—but I continue to struggle on.

The most frustrating of all, I think, is when I do have the time and opportunity to spend a day writing, and I'm either too tired or I'm totally not in the mood.

Yesterday I had the whole place to myself. In the morning I made sure I did all the boring domestic chores and cleared a pathway to the office. After lunch I sat down ready to add a few thousand words to my monthly total—and bored myself nearly to sleep. A friend rang and suggested we go to a movie. I can't resist a good movie, so there went the rest of the afternoon.

As disciplined as I've been throughout the year, November has been one of those months where I've broken all the rules.

Am I worried about not keeping my word count up? Not really. It's disappointing that I didn't rise to the NaNoWriMo challenge as I intended, but I know I can write a 100,000 word novel in eight months if I really want to, or if there's a deadline at stake. One month off in a year doesn't mean that I won't be enthusiastically writing right up to Christmas and beyond. It means that, for this month, things didn't go as planned. I also know that I'll be back on track next month.

It's all about the rhythm of writing; about being disciplined enough to set time aside to dedicate to your craft.

The danger for me is that if I have one slack month, I'll be tempted to slip into old habits. That's when my novels don't progress and I find a million excuses for not getting any writing work done.

Kick that procrastination habit. It sabotages all your good work. Instead, kick yourself into gear. Pretend writing is part of your job, if that helps you to focus. Stick a task list on your fridge or computer, or wherever you won't be able to avoid looking at it. Make at least two hours in your day available for writing. Start with one or two. You can always extend that when you find your own rhythm. Write it up there. Get it set in your mind that between the hours of, say one and three, you'll be writing or editing your writing.

Before long, you'll realise that it becomes a habit. You'll start to look forward to your daily writing time. Your imagination will switch on and you'll be ready when the clock strikes the magic hour. When that happens, even though you might have days, or months, when things don't go as planned, you'll easily slip back into your writing rhythm when everything settles down.

Remember, don't be too hard on yourself if you don't happen to reach your monthly goal. The world is not going to stop spinning and we're not all going to fall off because you have two words, or two thousand words, less than you intended.

Be kind to yourself and have some fun. "Writing Discipline" doesn't mean drudgery. It simply means getting into the habit of writing.

I'm already planning to set myself a goal for December. Even if I don't reach it, I'll be here, slaving away over a hot keyboard, trying as hard as I can to string a few extra sentences together before I have to go and put that load of washing on. Speaking of which...

Cheers

Brittany K.

New Technology

I've never been one to shrink from the possibility of using a bit of new technology. I think most writers are like that. We have enquiring minds.

While removing an unwanted program from my laptop computer, I discovered something called "Windows Live Writer".

Call me old. Call me dumb. Call me blond. Whatever! But I didn't know this existed. So I activated it, entered all the info it asked for, and now... here I am, blogging away without actually going to my blog. Great stuff.

I was excited to find Ping so I could Plurk and Twitter at the same time. "Ya gotta luv that!"

I used to blog directly from Word, but I'm not sure that the new version does that, or that it's available in Vista. I'll have to check that out.

As most people know, I'm a shocker for blogging when I should be writing, and the opportunity to blog right from my word processor is irresistible.

Live Writer will compensate me for that loss. I do so love a new gadget.

I may be getting older, but I'm no technophobe. I can only imagine that, eventually, when they're dragging me away to live in the nursing home, I'll be screaming: "Not without my computer! I must blog regularly every day...!"

Yes, I'll be blogging until the day I die.

Cheers

Brittany K.

Sword of Anubis Review

Sword of Anubis Review at Coffee Time Romance



http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Swordofanubis.html

SWORD OF ANUBIS
BRITTANY KINGSTON
ISBN # 978-1-897559-38-3
September 2008
Eternal Press
http://www.eternalpress.ca
E-Book
$1.80
22 Pages
Paranormal Romance
Rating: 3 Cups

India’s parents were murdered by Nicolai Kesslanski. She now lives with her grandfather and helps him run his Parisian shop.

Morgan’s father was also murdered by Kesslanski and he has been tracking him to exact justice. His search has led him to Paris, and India.

Nicolai Kesslanski is nearly unstoppable. Only the legendary Sword of Anubis and an ancient Egyptian book of the dead can destroy him. A murderous act brings those two items and their guardians together, but Nicolai may yet evade his fate.

The setting is appropriately chaotic; Paris just before the revolution. The story could use a bit more depth; it is a little thin on plot. I never learned exactly what Nicolai was, but Morgan’s pursuit of him was full of suspense and excitement. The author captured the spirit of the chase. The characters were sympathetic and resourceful. The ending is a bit disconcerting, especially after the visit of the god Anubis.

Maura
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance

This is a great review. I'm really excited to see my work up there at Coffee Time Romance. However, I don't agree wholeheartedly with everything said above. It's always good to have quality feedback on your work. The reviewers at Coffee Time Romance do a wonderful job. They must read sooooo many stories! I can't imagine how many they'd go through in a single week. It's a staggering thought.

When you put your work out there in public, you have to remember that not everyone will see your stories as you do, and every reader will see them in a different way.

Sword of Anubis was written as a very simple short story with a single-layer plot - that is to say, it has no subplot. I also intended to leave a little to the imagination of the reader. I don't believe that absolutely everything needs to be explained or described in vivid detail. Plant the seed, create the mood, hint at what's behind the door, then let the readers' imagination take them wherever they want to go.

The one glaring fact that the reviewer did miss is that Nicolai Kesslanski is a vampire. The reference to this is mentioned no less than seven times throughout the story. Looking back with 20-20 vision hindsight, I consider that to be a mistake. It should be obvious to the reader what Nicolai is, or it doesn't really matter. Again, a reader can imagine him to be whatever they want him to be. Hitting the reader over the head with the word "vampire" seven times in 19 pages is overkill, in my opinion. How come I didn't pick up on that? I should never have let the story get to the publishing stage without seeing it. But then... who's perfect?

I enjoyed writing Sword of Anubis, and it remains one of my favourite short stories. If you're interested in getting your hands on a copy, surf on over to Eternal Press and grab one.

Cheers

Brittany Kingston