Sunday, 28 February 2010

Just one thing?

Another person who writes stuff said to me ‘…but you have to admit that being a writer is the most is important thing in your life.’

Ah no…it’s not and it would be sad if it was. How can anyone be just one thing when people are compromised of so many characteristics, needs, wants and should be open to the infinite possibilities that are presented to us all? Why limit yourself to clinging to being tagged as one thing? I don’t get that. Everyone I know is more than more than one thing. Besides like any business, writing is fickle – you suck, you don’t suck, you sell, you don’t sell. What happens when your world is so wrapped up in your declaration of being only one thing? What if that one thing fails you? Are you a failure? No, of course not because you’re way more than what you may have labeled yourself.

Who are you? You’re anything you want to be so don’t slap a ticket on yourself and refuse to budge. And important things in life? I have to say writing is not in my top 5 list. Think about your list.
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Saturday, 27 February 2010

Someone said to me today….

“I don’t promise anything but I give everything.” That stuck in my head all day. And in light of that…this song….yeah, I get it now.
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Friday, 26 February 2010

Just tell it to me straight...


“'I no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu'. Or so they say in Japan. Roughly translated it means, 'A frog who lives in a well doesn't know about the ocean.' You are not a frog in a well. Or at least, not with regard to your current situation! You have seen the sea. You know what is possible. You are now being advised to steer clear of the ocean by someone who does not share your breadth of experience. Be grateful for the kind spirit behind this advice but don't let it stop you from exploring wider horizons.

Yes, well…like life isn’t confusing enough…now I have to deal with frogs and wells and stuff. Where have the normal horoscopes gone? Win money. Find love. Lose weight. That’s what I want to read…now I’m going to have to spend all day today looking out for frogs…
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Thursday, 25 February 2010


There’s this ad on Brisbane radio that is so sexist and perpetuating the belief that women should try and make themselves attractive to the opposite sex that I wonder who the dickheads are who write this drivel. It’s for an all-female gym. No, not my gym – there’s boys there. And yes, I understand that some women feel more comfortable working out with only women. Now you would think an advert for an all female gym would be about empowerment – to encourage women to get healthy. Oh no. This ad is two dumb arsed men talking about women being foxes and how they like to hunt the ones with ‘great tail.’ Then some inane voice over woman gets all girly and tells women to get the man they want she has to get into shape and be a ‘fox.’ Bollocks.

When the fuck are we going to grow up? Some people are never going to be the ‘perfect’ shape yet you know what? They fall in love and people love them back. You hear the media talking about anorexia and young girls and how ‘it must be stopped.’ Well, it’s pretty simple. A person is not only their body. Their mind, their heart and their soul are what makes people attractive. The best body in the world doesn’t house the greatest heart. When are we ever going to learn? And, more importantly when are women – like this female gym – going to say enough is enough – "come in because you want to feel better and get healthier and if you arse is sagging so what?" If any man cannot see past that then I say that man is not worth the effort.

Great tail? Bollocks. Any man who uses the phrase about a woman is a horse's arse.
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Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Life happens…

…when you least expect it don’t it? I was at work early this morning – way too early to actually start working but enough time to read through the fine print of my latest book contract – my alter ego Penn Halligan is going quite nicely thank you – when my phone rang. Like who would think I would answer that early? Anyway, it was Maverick. I enjoy hearing from him. He’s funny, sweet, quite aggravating and bordering on odd at times – but don’t tell him I said so. Anyway he told me something that made my spirits hit the floor. Something that I had been looking forward to was not going to happen. I was stoic in that well-for-fuck-sake-thank-you-very-much-life-for-screwing-with-me way.

At the end of the call, I resolved to pull up my big girl panties and deal with it. Hell, it’s not like I haven’t been disappointed before. So, I swore some, contemplated getting a third cup of coffee and tried valiantly to talk myself out of denying every request made to me that day. You want X? No. Y? Piss off. Z? You have to be kidding me. You know – rational stuff like that designed to make me feel better. Anyway ten minutes later Maverick rings back and tells me his latest plan and I want to kiss him. It’s perfect.

Life – it’s all swings and roundabouts ain’t it?
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Tuesday, 23 February 2010


I was standing in the butcher shop, looking like a drowned rat after swimming, and the butcher was all flirty and calling me ‘darlin’. Weirdly enough if any other man, who I didn’t know, called me ‘darlin’ I would have considered him a patronizing sod. Hmmm…interesting double standard. So what’s that about? Is it because someone who flirts with you over skinless chicken breasts is more acceptable than say a man at work calling you ‘darlin’? Are their different types of flirting that are more appealing? Does workplace familiarity breed contempt? Or is it the lure of a man in a spotless white uniform, a navy striped apron and surrounded by firm hunks of meat is appealing? I will ponder some on it….
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Monday, 22 February 2010

Budgie smugglers…

At the local pool, I like to swim breaststroke keeping my head out of the water - as I’m an incurable sticky-beak – and watch people and wonder. There’s lots of interesting things to see at the pool. People who act like they are Olympic swimmers, women who flaunt their perfect bodies to us less perfect but much smarter ones, the breed of people who wear swimming goggles in and out of the water and who look like giant bugs, the swim coach who yells at the kids to keep their ‘legs straight’ or he'll make ‘em do sit ups (wanker) and then there are budgie smugglers. I’m quite fascinated at the amount of men who wear budgie smugglers – Speedos – it amazes me. The thing is they’re scary. All that – manhood - love muscle as some flowery individuals like to call it - or cock and balls as we less flowery types would say - contained in one brief piece of lyrca. I find it mind boggling. I can’t see how that bit of fabric can support a penis and the accompanying equipment. Think of a bra – it keeps boobs from bouncing around and taking out an eye. It supports and controls. I don’t want to see a penis out of control at the pool. What was Mr Speedo thinking when he came up with the budgie smuggler? It gives me much pause for thought as I analyze, purely for scientific purposes, the men who walk by wearing them. One size does not really fit all in this case.

When I’m not contemplating Mr Speedo’s folly, I am swimming and thinking things like can a vampire go swimming? Is chlorine a natural aphrodisiac? Is it possible to have sex coming down the water slide? Should I try and beat the clock and swim really hard and fast or maybe just do several underwater handstands? It’s quite exhausting being me.
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Sunday, 21 February 2010

Useless wankers….

I was going to write a blog about a bunch of useless wankers who could not organize a piss up in the brewery or a root in a brothel but the thing is with useless wankers is that they will always be with us – in our face, pissing us off and generally screwing people over by their sheer and utter ineptitude so why bother with them. I have faith karma will kick them in the arse.

So, instead, I bring you my latest cover - Pushing Fate. It’s due out soon with Liquid Silver books. I love it. Once again the cover gods – and in this case a cover goodness. Thanks mate.

*Piss up = getting drunk

*Root = in this case, means intercourse
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Saturday, 20 February 2010

Naked men...

What is it with men that they think nothing of wandering around the house or wherever naked? Is it a built in self confidence that they don’t give a rat’s arse who sees their arse? Do they like showing off? Or are they so at home in their bodies that they think nothing of dropping their kit? It quite fascinates me…the concept of course…I’m too much of a lady to look at a naked man…no really

Most women I know are very self confident but they all agree on one thing – the whole naked thing requires some thought. Why? I reckon several reasons. One, we grow up being told to be ladies, cross our legs, cover up and the classic – and I’m not sure if anyone still says this now – ‘he won’t buy the cow if you give the milk away for free.’ As a child, I could never understand the cow analogy. Why do people tell kids dumb things like that? Why don’t say – “fine – have sex – be careful – be safe but don’t expect the best orgasm of your life will lead to marriage because one day you’ll realize marriage is not the be all and end all and sex is fun and marriage isn’t."

Anyway – back to naked – women are more selective I believe. We want and deserve more. We’re not just going to let any Tom, Dick or Harry – particularly Dick take us. If he wants us naked – he has to work for it. Added to that, maybe, possibly, we have a few thousand body issues but I say the most fascinating people are the ones with hang ups. What are we without our quirks?

And yes – I’ll take you up on your $2 offer but it’s not reciprocal – I’ll do something else….
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Friday, 19 February 2010

I reckon this is still the best...

....winter Olympic moment ever. Go the underdog!
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Thursday, 18 February 2010

Yeah, why didn’t I?

I’ve been thinking a lot about what someone said to me the other day – “why didn’t you do…..” I wanted to at the time. I really, really wanted to. But I stopped and I havered and thought ‘yeah but what will they think if I do?’ Which is weird for me as I tend to rush into things bull-at-a-gate and rarely do I give a rat’s arse about what someone else thinks. But, suddenly, I have another person on my list of people’s opinions that matter to me and I’m trying to act less like my irrational self. Or maybe I’m acting more like my true myself. I don’t know. Maybe some people are meant to scare you in a good way – to make you change and force you to look at things. I dunno. I do know next time I will do exactly what I planned…and more. Look out.
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Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Living La Vida Loca…

I bought a new lawn mower today. Yep. I think Ricky Martin summed it up best when he sang living la vida loca – the wild crazy life.

Now, I don’t want to alarm anyone but I think there’s going to be a machine uprising and it’s going to start with lawnmowers. Both of mine refused to work. For the exact same reason. They may be 1001 years old but still…they both started and then they both stopped. I did all the usual things. I checked spark plugs and filters. I swore a lot. I kicked wheels. I threatened them with eviction from the garden shed. I stamped my feet and raged against them for wasting my time. I rang and annoyed men and asked what could be wrong. Their answers? Get someone to mow the lawn - it’s easier. I don’t want easy. I want answers. There has to be a reason. I went and got clean petrol and oil and the same thing. Start – stop – shudder – copious smoke and then something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Both of them did the exact same thing. Coincidence? I think not – hence the reason I feel there is going to be a machine uprising.

So, there it is. I have a new lawn mower. Lord knows what wild excitement will top that tomorrow.
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Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Vampire Island by Sandra Cox...

The Blurb...

My name is Zoe Tempest. Just let me say, I had no intention of becoming a vampire hunter. My world revolved around the trendiest clothes, the boy of the week, shopping, and texting. My life was as close to perfect as a seventeen year old can get. I had everything. Then my parents were murdered and my world came crashing down.
After their funeral, I went to live with my uncle Julian Kilmer. That’s when everything changed. In a manner more terrifying than anything I could have imagined.

The Excerpt...

“Don’t go out after dark.”
“You’re joking right?” I said the first thing that came into my head then heaved a sigh from deep in my flat, toned belly. In the short twenty-some odd hours I’d known him, the dark brooding man standing in front of me had never cracked a smile let alone joked. Too bad, for an older man—he’s thirty-seven if he’s a day—Uncle Julian is a bit of a hottie…in an intense sort of way. His olive-colored skin stretches tight across high cheek bones. His thin nose reminds me of a predatory hawk.
I really couldn’t say a thing about his eyes. I’d never seen them. He invariably wore dark glasses.
“I never joke.”
There’s a news flash.
We stood in the dark gloomy hall of his mansion. As thunder boomed, the lights flickered. Moment’s later a streak of white lightning, visible through the long narrow window, hit nearby. The floor shook. Outside something screamed in the night. Though the room felt hot and stuffy, goose bumps roughened my skin. I rubbed my arms.
He leaned toward me. His shadow loomed menacingly across the floor engulfing me in black.
Before I could stop myself, I took a hasty step back and bumped against the door. The cool knob pressed into my back. He might be my uncle, but he was a stranger and a scary one at that.
With his index finger, he pulled down the sunglasses and looked over them. I gasped. His eyes were the same distinctive cobalt as my own. But where my eyes only added to my Barbie doll appearance, his sucked you in like a vortex. As if he could suction every thought right out of your head just by looking at you.
Get a grip, Zoe.
A trace of unease flickered across his face. “You aren’t sick are you?”
“No. What makes you think that?”
“You’re white as a sheet. Goose bumps are standing up on your arms like a plucked turkey.”
Being a vegetarian, the mental image wasn’t exactly a pleasant one.
I gathered my courage and asked “Why can’t I go out?”
“Because I said so.”
I barely refrained from rolling my eyes.
He shifted his weight, his expression impatient.
The silence stretched between us.
Cold clammy beads of sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. I twitched my shoulders.
“Well?” I demanded fisting my hands on my hips.
“Because it’s dangerous,” he said curtly.
“What do you mean?”
He raised a black slashed eyebrow. “What about dangerous don’t you understand?”
I watched his gaze travel over my hot pink top and short white skirt. When his glance came to rest on my manicured toenails visible in my pink polka dot sandals with rhinestone bows, he shook his head his expression dismissive.
I shouldn’t have let it bother me. I was used to being looked at like an empty headed blonde who’s only thought was her wardrobe. I even encouraged it. But it hurt coming from family. If he’d been around while I was growing up, he’d have known better.
“This is the Bahamas. How dangerous can it be?” I challenged, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin. Why should I care what this man thinks of me?
“This is a remote, unknown, island in the Bahamas.” He flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his black silk shirt.
“Does this remote island have a name?”
His cobalt gaze locked with mine. The deep black flecks in them flickered like crashing tidal waves. “Vampire Island.”

***Click on the cover to buy***

Contest: For a chance to win a pair of vampire red and hisss silver earrings – see here - - I love ‘em - just leave a comment at and send Sandra an email - with VI contest in the header. Easy peasy.

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
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Monday, 15 February 2010

I'm just not a Monday person....
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Sunday, 14 February 2010


Don’t you hate it when you don’t know what to do?
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Saint V....

There are varying opinions as to the origin of Valentine's Day. Some experts state that it originated from St. Valentine, a Roman who was martyred for refusing to give up Christianity. He died on February 14, 269 A.D., the same day that had been devoted to love lotteries. Legend also says that St. Valentine left a farewell note for the jailer's daughter, who had become his friend, and signed it "From Your Valentine". Other aspects of the story say that Saint Valentine served as a priest at the temple during the reign of Emperor Claudius. Claudius then had Valentine jailed for defying him. In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honour St. Valentine.

This bit about Saint V made me laugh…

Saints are not supposed to rest in peace; they're expected to keep busy: to perform miracles, to intercede. Being in jail or dead is no excuse for non-performance of the supernatural.

So – Valentine ’s Day - crass commercialization of love or a genuine tradition of remembrance? Both – the stores trade on the sentimentality of love and need - and pausing to remember what you have with someone you love is important. Love - it’s weird. Yep, I write romance but that’s the best I can tell you.

An oldie but a goodie and a favourite of mine…
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Saturday, 13 February 2010

Mermaiding it….

I went to the local pool this arvo to check it out. While I am still going to the gym in the mornings, I’ve had to cut seeing the lovely Hugh, my trainer, due to my hamstring. I pulled it ages ago and it refuses to heal and it’s affecting my knee as I am compensating for my hamstring. Such is life. Anyway, when I was on hols I swam a lot and that solved the leg problem – hence the push to be a mermaid. So after work off I went to the pool.

Someone once said of my swimming style ‘it’s not stylish but you’re a strong swimmer.’ Well, who needs style? So I swam and swam and swam. When I wasn’t doing laps I was doing something I always loved to do as a kid. Diving underwater and doing hand stands. May I never grow out of the urge to do that. Is there any fitness benefit for doing hand stands? Nah, but its fun.
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Thursday, 11 February 2010


I was feeling pretty down today about stuff…any woman will know what I mean – I was having a ‘you’re fat and ugly’ day. Sing along if you know the tune. Anyway, I was driving back from the gym, sore knee, sweaty, wondering if the pixies had been benevolent and left me dinner in the microwave and singing along very badly to Michael Buble’s “Cry my a River" when Maverick rang. Who is Maverick? Good bloody question. He is like the riddle of the sands. He just is. I pulled the car over and talked to him and instantly, sweat and hormones and all, felt better. Thank you Maverick.

Of course none of this solves the question of pixies and dinner…
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Why don’t we see more naked men?

A friend and I were discussing stuff and the talk came around to naked men. It started off about books then flowers…wandered over to the weather…flitted onto psychopaths we know then we ended up discussing the fact that you don’t see a lot of naked men around. Standard chat for female friends. Now - I’m not talking about flashers. No subtly or imagination required there and really they ask for the ‘seriously is that the best you can do?’ comments they get.

My friend’s observation - “Yeah why are half naked women used to sell stuff when statistics show it is actually women who do most of the shopping? Naked men would sell more stuff.” Exactly. See the man in this picture above? If he was advertising baked beans, which I loathe, I would buy them on that picture alone. So – where have all the naked men gone? I demand my right as a consumer to be dazzled by male beauty and buy useless crap.
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Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Who Dares Sins…

So, my Penn Halligan – my alter ego – book got a contract on Who Dares Sins. I’m quite pleased with that for a lot of Scorpionic reasons. Never ever tell a Scorpio they can’t so something because they will not only do it but remember you said they couldn’t. If you’re a Scorp you’re nodding your head ‘cause you know. Never challenge us.

Who Dares Sins is about two people who meet inadvertently through work. And no, god no, it’s not about anyone I know so calm down if you’re thinking it’s you. It’s all about me. Okay? Real life makes the best reading doesn’t it? The blurb – sorta, kinda finished or will be when I have my fifth coffee…

Two strangers meet in a hotel. The wild urge to touch and taste overwhelms them. Neither is worried about the consequences. Both want one thing. Wild, hot sex with a stranger. There’s only the here and the now. Having sex purely because they can is their objective. How can that be wrong?

But it’s very wrong for Lucinda McElroy when she find out the man she is supposed to outwit in business has seen her naked and crying out in need for his cock. Her credibility is shot to hell. Simon Prince isn’t worried about that. What started out as a sexy romp with a lusty lady has turned into a mission. He’s not going to allow Lucinda to deny that attraction between them. Fucking over the opposition takes on a whole new meaning.

Have I mentioned sin is good? I like it. Try some today.
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Tuesday, 9 February 2010

The simulation of bums…

I got the cover for Penn’s book Sex by Numbers with Excessica. Penn is me…the sluttier side of me…I know, I’m quite shocked I can be like that...not. Anyway the cover is exactly what I asked for and a big thanks to the Excessica cover gods. I always ask for naked – in covers that is – there is only a specific person I would request naked at the moment - and I am never disappointed – in him - or the covers. I don’t do naked well myself. But I’m trying…on so many levels I am so very trying…but I digress…the cover has got a lot of reaction through Amarinda mail. It’s the bum…the arse if you like…or ass if you speak with a twang or derriere if you’re French…anyway the bum is a talking point. Why? Is it real? Does any woman have a bum like that? Are we all jealous? Maybe, though I rely on my cellulite arse to cushion me after life’s blows. Yeah, fast arsed works for me. I’ll leave simulation to others.

So there it is. I have a simulated bum on my cover and I’m pretty darned pleased. Hoping you are the same…
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Monday, 8 February 2010

Cold blooded murder….

Police have recovered the body of a 16-year-old girl buried alive by relatives in an honour killing carried out because she reportedly befriended boys.

The girl's body was found in a sitting position with her hands tied, in a two-metre hole dug under a chicken pen outside her home in Turkey.

I read this and was horrified and saddened and really bloody angry. When are the men in these countries, who are supposedly in their own tiny minds believing they are upholding some religious doctrine, going to be punished for cold blooded murder? That’s what it is. No angel or god or goddess or whoever you believe in can justify this. There is no honour in this. This is premeditated murder and I don’t doubt for a second the killers will cite Allah or their left testicle or their failure to get an erection as the reason.

I have the Koran at home. I’ve read it. Correct. I’m an atheist but I like to know about stuff. Maybe I have a different copy of the Koran but I don’t recall killing women because you could was one of the passages in there.

You know for men who take such murderous, draconian steps to bring women into line and under the thumb I have to say their eye for an eye way of thinking should apply to their own actions.

Atrocities against women affect all women. Just because someone is in another country to you or I doesn’t mean we can shrug our shoulders and be glad it’s not us. I’ve said it before and I will say it again – what effects one woman effects us all.

"According to our findings, the girl - who had no bruises on her body and no sign of narcotics or poison in her blood - was alive and fully conscious when she was buried."

The girl's father and grandfather have been arrested and jailed pending trial over her killing.

The father reportedly said in his testimony that the family was unhappy she had male friends.

I’m just so very angry and sad about this. What this poor girl suffered….
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Sunday, 7 February 2010


When I came through Townsville airport the other day – and by the way – for a small airport it’s very neat and bloody efficient – I got stopped and checked for explosives. I think it’s probably because I got pinged and had to take off all my rings – one on each finger bar the pinkies - and my watch and my bracelets and my necklace and my earrings. Then my bag got searched due to the fact I had a can of deodorant in there. So that was all very interesting and understandable. After that, I got pulled aside and tested for explosives. I was pretty darned pleased about this as it made me feel like I looked enough like a desperado that I might be dangerous enough to be a threat to society…though after seeing all the crap that came out of my bag during the bag search I’m not sure desperadoes carry that much underwear or earrings…anyway, the bomb guy was very nice and explained the whole explosive screening process to me and answered all my questions – I may have asked a few hundred. Why? Well, you never know when my next heroine may need to be searched for explosives…
Reasons for buying Pet Me….

All the money goes directly into a fund set up in the name of Lara Punches. Who was Lara? A beautiful soul who died too young. In her time on the planet she touched many and helped those in need. After her death, her kindness lives on in the form of helping others achieve…buy the book not for me but to pay it forward and help others…
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Saturday, 6 February 2010

Romance Book Scene: Romance Book Review: Pet Me

Romance Book Scene: Romance Book Review: Pet Me

All proceeds from the sale of this book go to the memorial fund for Lara Punches. Those funds go to helping others achieve - consider paying it foward and giving yourself good ju-ju

Jasmine Jade Enterprises - Pet Me

Jasmine Jade Enterprises - Pet Me

Why you should consider buying Pet Me....all proceeds go directly to a fund set up in memory of Lara Punches - a young woman who died too soon but did so much good while she was alive. So, consider buying it for her

Friday, 5 February 2010

Say it with flowers…

I bought myself some flowers today. Daisies. Why? I like daisies. They’re simple and beautiful. Why did I buy them? Two reasons. One – I’ve learned a lot from another person that has changed my way of thinking and I am grateful to them. Two – after a lot of crapaciousness those flowers remind me I’m still standing baby. Knock me down? I don’t think so….

Tell it like it is and accept nothing less.
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Thursday, 4 February 2010

Dear Maverick...

Dear Maverick...

Thank you for being the one sane albeit lawless voice in a world of nitwits and fools. You know how I feel so let’s not get soppy. You can tell me to ‘shut up’ anytime, Maverick.

And this from my solicitor…I added the bit about the 'undead' as I feel they need to be acknowledged…

Legal Notice…on the blog…

Any story, discussion or any written word or thought on the Amarinda Jones blog does not represent any individual or group living, dead or the undead.

It is absolutely your right and duty of care to your own mental health not to read this blog. If you do read and continue to read the Amarinda Jones blog you do it at your own risk.
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Wednesday, 3 February 2010

They’re feral Beryl…

Ever felt as welcome as the clap? That’s how I felt yesterday when I walked into an office. I could not wait to leave. There was bad ju-ju in the air and just being there infected my mood. I now understand completely why everyone is so cranky in that office. It’s not tight knicker elastic as I suspected it might be. It’s mass discontent feeding upon itself. It’s feral Beryl.
I got back to the Casino where I’m staying and immediately got changed and threw myself into the pool to break whatever horrible bad ju-ju had infected me. I have to go back there today. I’m a never say die girl.

But Townsville is a beaut city and if you’re contemplating a trip down under then consider putting this tropical city of your agenda.

Amarinda…on the road...

Tuesday, 2 February 2010

I’m off to annoy the natives….

…in one of the northern offices today. I’m going to Townsville – Far North Queensland – FNQ to Aussies as it’s easier to say – for two days. Townsville is about 2 hours away by plane from Brizzie and it’s a tropical city bordered by rainforest and the Reef…Barrier that is. I’m staying at the Casino there – see the pool? That’s where I plan to be outside work hours…me and a margarita or seven.

While I talk to my northern colleagues all the time on the phone, it will be good to meet them. It also gives them a chance to talk to me about stuff I do – face to face – with no holds barred. I like that and management should get out and about and be accessible. I plan to annoy the folks in the Cairns office soon.

I’m taking the credit management road show up there. It’s not a popular program. I don’t think Hollywood would ever make it into a movie. I have a powerpoint presentation and flow charts someone made up for me. Puke – flow charts. What insane mind came up with them? I only have them in case a flow chart devotee begs to see them in order to understand something – otherwise they’re not coming out and will be eventually be filed under ‘b’ for bin. The powerpoint presentation? Well, I was just going to go up there and give my usual rambling, informal style talk about debt and stuff. But, some efficient soul put all my haphazard notes into a powerpoint presentation to make me look more professional and not the half arsed chatter that I am. Good luck with that I say.

So – here I come Townsville…you can run but you can’t hide.
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Monday, 1 February 2010

Because you can…

I’ve been chatting to an aspiring writer via email. She has been subbing her work to various publishers with no definitive response back yet. She’s frustrated. I understand. I really do.

To be a writer….

- you must persevere. Often times it’s a business that makes no bloody sense at all. If you can laugh in the face of stupidity, jealousy and total incompetence, then you’ll do fine.

- Suckability factor – Develop a thick skin. Someone or many someones will tell you that you suck. Maybe you do. Maybe they’re just wankers. The thing is if you believe you can succeed in this writing lark then just forge on. Suckability only applies if you can be wounded by it.

- Lastly, and I have said this many times before, to the annoyance of some dedicated writers – fancy me being annoying – anyone can write. Yeah, they can. It doesn’t require some mystical ability or zen like sensibility. If a writer tells you that then she/he is worried about newbies on the market. If you have a story in your mind and you can put two fingers on a keyboard, you’re a writer. It’s that simple. If you have the ability to sit for hours, eyes drying, numb in arse and eating stuff you shouldn’t then you’re a writer.

To anyone who is waiting for a response to a submission – hang in there. It will happen.
Be an Amarinda book