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Posts Tagged ‘gin’

A new copy day job?

April 19, 2010 4 comments

I have been busy looking for a new copy day-job (unrelated to the boss-catching-my-spelling-error incident detailed earlier) and have found that this has consumed me.

Why?  I do like my current day-job.  I like the people I work with and for.  I just know it’s time in my career to move on.  And now that I’ve made the big decision, I’m antsy.  Really antsy.  Not sleeping, neglecting my friends (blogger-friends do not despair!  My real-life, know where I live friends have been complaining too.  The word ‘intervention’ was mentioned several times), neglecting my manuscript, that I love, love, LOVE, until I had a MASSIVE HEAD EXPLOSION!!!

So.

I have been picking little bits of brain and hair off my bedroom walls and trying to piece them back together into something resembling the general shape of my head.

The job hunt continues.  An over-indulgence in gin has helped me resume sleeping, and has happily doubled as acceptable socialising with human-friends.  I am now off to reconnect with blogger-friends.

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Daffodils!

March 23, 2010 3 comments

Yes, daffodils.  In London.

I am not going to write a post (well, a real post).  I promised snarky sarcasm.

But daffodils.  In London.

I am incapable of snarky sarcasm today.

Daffodils!  Poking their determined little heads up through the soil where thousands of people tread every day and blooming.  Blooming!

Nothing melts my London-hardened heart like flowers (especially sunflowers, but daffodils will do).  There is something of promise in them–I immediately get visions of sunny days spent in the park with a picnic and pre-mixed gin&tonics poured (rather sneakily) into tonic bottles.  Cucumber on the side.

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG summer is finally coming you don’t understand if you don’t live in London it is like a gray pit of despair with stupid rain-but-not-rain all the time and your feet get all wet and gross and you think you will die a slow and painful death if you don’t get SOMETHING other than rain-but-not-rain (even if it’s just PROPER RAIN at least it will actually be SOMETHING DEFINABLE) and just when you are about to have a MASSIVE HEAD EXPLOSION!!!  and pack it all in and go back to the lovely tropical island from which you have come you see…

Daffodils.

And you LOVE London.

The parents (eagerly awaiting said return to small tropical island) sigh in disappointment and resume internet scanning for cheap London flights.

And so.

I am incapable of snarky anything today.  Blame the daffodils.

“Oh, you should write about (insert random event)…”

March 2, 2010 4 comments

Recently Bethany made a comment on one of my posts highlighting how this hated phrase (Oh, you should write about…) suggests that we writers are often confused with stenographers.  Oh, how very true.  Does this happen to anyone else?

Here’s the scenario:

You’re in a bar, enjoying your very first delicious gin&tonic (Tanqueray with cucumber, which came only after a fifteen-minute discussion with the bartender, where you had to explain that you know it’s Hendrick’s that’s supposed to be served with cucumber, but you really, really like Tanqueray with cucumber and couldn’t they drop a slice of cucumber into your drink instead of a lime wedge since you can see the sliced cucumber and it’s sitting right next to the sliced lime), when you mention very vaguely (because God knows you want to avoid the “Oh, I’m thinking of writing a book too…” debacle) that you are a writer.

Big mistake.

“Oh, really?”  comes the response.  “You should write about (insert random event that means absolutely nothing to anyone beyond the parties involved).”

Huh.

Well, gee, thanks for the suggestion.  Since I am a writer, I MUST be all out of ideas.  I’ll get right on that.  I’ll just forget about that half a manuscript I’m desperately trying to finish while holding a full-time day job.  Clearly I should be writing a play-by-play of my day instead.

My gin&tonic is now gone.  Another discussion with the bartender ensues.

Halfway through this second drink I am usually able to casually say, “Oh, that’s a good idea.  Maybe I will.”

And maybe I actually will write about how pee rained from the office ceiling today (okay, that’s a bad example, as that was pretty funny), but chances are that it’s gonna be a lot lower on my priority list than that half-manuscript I’ve been toiling over for the last two years.

And sometimes it ends there, and I have a third drink, and all is well.  Other times, however, I get this:

“It’d make a great novel.”

Pause.

MASSIVE HEAD EXPLOSION!!!

No, it would NOT make a great novel.  It has to be fiction to be a novel.  And it can’t be fiction because it ACTUALLY HAPPENED.  It wasn’t even a good story.  I HAVE an idea for a great novel.  I’ve spent TWO YEARS trying to turn said idea into a great novel.  I have enough ideas.  What I need is to produce a great novel.  Believe me, you do NOT want to have a discussion about the difficulties of producing a great novel.  Or even a good-enough-to-be-published novel.

Lets discuss the merits of cucumber as a garnish for a Tanqueray&Tonic instead.