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Sunday 30 September 2012

Yeah...



So, I was talking to a non writing friend about having no interest whatsoever in writing any more and she said ‘Maybe, you’re past that point in your life where you had to do that. Maybe you need to move on to something better and more powerful than that.' 

Yeah… 

Saturday 29 September 2012

There’s probably never an appropriate time…





…to use the phrase ‘penis caught in your zipper’…especially not at work, but I did. Why? I was trying to explain something to this idiot 30 year old man, who still lives at home and thinks once you have a job it’s for life so you don’t have to put any effort in because no one can sack you. Correct. He is still 6 years old in his mind and finds toilet humour funny. Anyway, something happened yesterday and I said “whomever rings we don’t mention anything about X and all you say is ‘they are unavailable and can I take a message.’” No, I shouldn't have to point out office/phone etiquette to this nitwit but bad manners always annoy me, added to the fact it was inappropriate for any of us to be discussing a fellow co-worker to people over the phone. Anyway, this nitwit says to me ‘well, he shouldn't have told me what was wrong if he didn’t want me to tell everyone.’ Yes. What a fuckwit. I said “For god sake you’re a grown man. Act like one. Have some control. Would you want me telling everyone one day that you rang in to say you’re late because your penis got stuck in your zipper and let them draw their own conclusions?” Yes. That did shut him up. Yes, he did use ‘they are unavailable and can I take a message’. Men. Penises. One of the few things immature men pay attention to. 

Friday 28 September 2012

The tax man's bollocks...



So, the Australian Taxation Office and I have been chatting. It’s due to the ridiculous, crapacious, what-the-hell forms they have sent out to me. Because I stupidly work hard for money in the day job and pocket money in the writing gig, they ping me each year to pay tax in advance – you know, just in case I want to use that money for foolish things like living expenses. When the official time to lodge tax forms comes about, they generally have to pay that money back because they’re stupid. Yes. Correct. Standard tax agency behavior worldwide. It's designed to prop out dole bludgers and 16 year old baby making machines so they can buy cigarettes and McDonalds.

Anyway, back to the forms. I sent in a complaint – no, god no, you don’t talk to a government tax employee over the phone. That’s like sticking a fork into your thigh – painful, pointless and you wish you never did it. So, I banged out a complaint basically stating that unless they could explain the convoluted forms they sent out in standard Aussie then I would certainly ‘pay-as-you-go’ but on a schedule that suited me and they could stick their percentages and the adding of A5 to B6 subtracting F12 from C11 to get an answer at Box A that was 47.5% of Box B but not exceeding the subtracted amount at F12 unless it comes under Section 7, sub paragraph C(iii).

So I had two tax chicks ring me back about my response. Neither could explain the forms that were sent. On each call, I explained that was okay and I would pay what and when I think and keep the receipts. I can’t do this apparently – no wait – actually I can if I have the right form. I know, you’re thinking ‘get the right form sent to you’. There is no right form and they are 'working on that' and they have taken my ‘feedback down and appreciate’ my comments. Bollocks.

So, at the end of each call they asked, ‘are you happy with how we handled the complaint?’ No. ‘Can we close the complaint?' No. I expect another call shortly because having once foolishly accepted a Government job years ago, I know they cannot close the complaint until I say so. It’s a touchy-feeling thing that feigns that they care. In the interim, as always, I will do what I want and they can work around me. 

Thursday 27 September 2012

I do. I say. I believe. I am.



So, I received an email that had the phrase of  ‘If I insisted…’ then they would fix something that was pukeably not right. Now, I’m not a wishy-washy person. If I send you an email about your crapaciousness and that I want it fixed then that should tell you where I stand. I don’t mince my words if I perceive injustice, inequality or bollocks. I’m no different in person to what I am in writing. I’m annoying, persistent and determined. And if I insist? Damn straight I insist. That I or anyone else has to deal with half-arsed people who cannot do the job right the first time, then maybe this isn’t the dimension for them and they need to go to half-arsed land where no one gives a crap and a quarter good enough is okay and no one minds being screwed over because they're half arsed as well.

I’m a very black and white person. I do. I say. I believe. I am.    

Tuesday 25 September 2012

Blood out of the stoned…



So, I spent a great deal of time wading through 16 spreadsheets of royalties payments during work today. No wonder ebook authors go Indie. Some publishers get it so very wrong. Obvious things like tax treaties between countries and the correct rate of withholding money due to said tax treaty should be a no-brainer. And I owe you money? Are you stoned? I have sent back notes as to why the spreadsheets are wrong. I shouldn’t have to. It’s not my job to do their accounts.

Thinking of writing? For god sake sus out the publisher first. Check who has had trouble with them. Ask an Indie author. They'll tell you who sucks because most of the Indie have been burned and they're not scared to say it. Learn from people who have been there and done that.     

Monday 24 September 2012

Unspeakable day...


Sunday 23 September 2012

Pay attention, Stupid...



Yesterday, despite a pulled muscle in my groin that hurt like hell, I followed the group and hiked up this goat track of a hill. It was steep and in places quite dangerous. I didn’t enjoy it for all the reasons stated. Of late, life lessons have been coming to me thick and fast. Pain is your body’s way of saying “Slow down, stupid.” As for walking up a dangerous track following others? Well, says it all doesn’t it?

Life lessons – pay attention.

Friday 21 September 2012

Stories...


After I parked the car at the Esplanade this morning, I started wandering over, as I normally do, to where we meet for boot camp when I heard someone rush up madly behind me. I turned to see this woman charge at me. I side stepped and she rushed forward to then stand bang in front of me and not move. Clearly she was drugged (seen a few in my time), very unwashed and I suspect homeless. I said hello, and started to move. Every move I made she blocked it. Was I concerned? Well, shit yeah. Crazy people do crazy things. So I stopped, thought for a moment then looked her in the eye and started talking calmly to her about the weather. Have you ever noticed that the weather is the most innocuous thing yet it binds all sorts of people together? She blinked several times then nodded and started telling me about her boyfriend, the place she’d been thrown out of and the computer someone stole from her. I listened and kept throwing in the word ‘mate’ - it’s a common leveler in Australian society that indicates no one is better than anyone else and we’re all the same. I then added "I’m headed over that way," pointing to the boot campers, and she continued talking to me as she walked beside me. By the time we got over to the meeting point she was very chatty and I stood and listened to her for a moment before wishing her good luck. She told me she was off to steal back her computer. O-kay then.

The thing that I got from this is two-fold. One – everyone has a story and often just by listening to it you can calm them down and save your arse. And two? I have frigging nerves of steel.        

Thursday 20 September 2012

Yes, we have your royalties, please tell us why we held on to them...



Okay, so I get this email from Noble Romance Publishing – copy most definitely kept -  saying that they had found all these royalties of mine that were kept to ‘the side’ by the previous owner/not owner person and could I explain why she did that? Well, I could suggest incompetence, lack of professional ethics and poor management. Actually, I did suggest that. They then went on to explain how it would take awhile to pay these royalties that were on the side. Why?  Good question. I pointed out if they know how much they have illegally withheld then they knew how much to pay. Pretty much a no-brainer huh?

Pay out the Noble authors and set my people free...

Wednesday 19 September 2012

Lick it...



So, I was sitting in a meeting today while a bunch of men crapped on about some boring twaddle and someone said something along the lines ‘ well, we can lick that’ assumingly meaning being able to beat a problem or something. I don’t know. I really wasn’t listening. I don’t  bring my ‘listening ears’ to work. I heard a 4 year old kid say that once. Good one, kid. But, when the word 'lick' came up I started to giggle as I recalled something completely inappropriate - and therefore excellent - a good friend said to me about licking. Yes, it was very naughty, terribly wrong, delightfully funny and in no way did it fit the situation I was in.That’s why I started laughing. 

'Just love inappropriate friends... 

Tuesday 18 September 2012

Restless...

Don't you just want to walk to the end and jump in and swim to that island? Crocs, stingers and sharks in Far North Queensland? Just swim faster I say. 

Monday 17 September 2012

Tokens....



So, I was talking to a friend about lots of stuff but one of the subject was lovers and the tokens people sometimes take to remember the person…actually, I initially started  talking about Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton – and no, that wasn’t love but the conversation actually started with Hillary, who I admire and it came around to the errant intern and the randy President. Anyway, I said what sort of a woman would have kept ‘that dress’ and then we went on from there with tokens that people might take to remember a lover. There’s lots of stuff and most of it wasn’t wrong and in many ways in was quite sweet and romantic. Me?  I take nothing but the memory of a bloody good time….less chance of getting in trouble that way. 

Sunday 16 September 2012

Spies like us...



So, I had two visitors to my house yesterday. One male and one female. The man wandered through as men do not paying attention to much. The woman? Her eyes darted everywhere and took everything in. I wasn't offended, I was amused. Women never miss a trick. Men – visual creatures who would have stopped dead at the sight of a naked woman or a piece of technical looking machinery. Women – can see the infinitesimal in a plethora of things and keep walking looking for more. Would I have done the same as this woman? Oh yeah, because inherently I believe women make the best spies.  

Saturday 15 September 2012

What women know....


  1. Lady-like etiquette says you cannot wander around in your undies all morning. Woman reality is you can and shut up.

Friday 14 September 2012

Toss-pots among us…



So, every month at work I bang out a newsletter full of random work stuff. Today I sent the latest September newsletter out to the work masses and instantly received a long-winded email back from a toss-pot in accounts payable telling me that I had offended all of womankind – he’s a man – well, I think he’s a man...probably he is – and due to my offense worlds would collide, fish would fall from the sky and it was very likely I’d brought back the bubonic plague. Why? Because I indicated in a sales situation never to ignore a woman because women have a lot of power when it comes to making decisions. No brainer right? Well, toss-pot felt that was derogatory to women and I should be spoken to severely. I rolled my eyes so hard they almost disappeared into my skull. I then got an email from a senior toss-pot male questioning my using the words ‘woman’ and ‘female’ and how this could cause other women to get upset and you know the whole worlds-colliding-thing-you're-naughty-go-directly-to-jail. Uh-huh. Here's what I think - by all means tell me your opinion and I'll tell you mine and that is in an effort to be politically correct and touchy-feely, new age sensitive to all some people don't pay attention to what is being said. Women aren't made out of bone china and we can read words and make our own judgements without a man telling us that he perceives women will be upset at the words 'female' and 'woman'....you know we have heard those words before...you know...'cause we're women, females, girls...

Thursday 13 September 2012

Romantic? Seriously?



I don’t understand the whole rose petals on the bed thing. How is that romantic? Who cleans it up? Who came up with the concept? A demented florist? A frenzied lover? I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go to bed with someone who rips roses to pieces. If it's about romance, then wouldn’t it be easier if you didn’t have petals stuck to your skin and having to consider vacuuming said petals up afterwards? I don’t find that romantic. And why rip a rose apart? And if you do, is your lover really worth it? Can’t you just love without all the drama? Please explain. 

Wednesday 12 September 2012

'Not that hard...


I find it interesting the number of established epublishers that had been around for over 10 years who cannot manage to format books into an epub version. It's not hard to do. Even the technically inept like me can use Calibre to do it. It takes seconds to format. And if readers want epub and they can't get it? They'll go elsewhere. It's a no-brainer. Being competitive is about supply and demand. We all know that. No wonder so many writers are going Indie.

Supply what people demand. Business 101.

Tuesday 11 September 2012

Jane Austen...and things less noble...


…I watched this doco on TV about Jane Austen and I wondered how many romance writers in 100 years from now will still be remembered as Jane is? Not bloody many I reckon. 'Heck of a woman she was. Described as having a 'mean' face yet she perservered in a time when women were supposed to be quiet and pretty. Well done, Jane.


On to all things not Jane...

Reminder...

Another respectful reminder...please do not buy any Penn Halligan or Amarinda Jones story from Noble Romance Publishing. Due to non payment of royalties this publisher officially sucks. Why the naked man? Visual aids help the memory.  Thanks...

Monday 10 September 2012

Strippers...


 
 While at the hairdresser, I had a long chat to, let’s call her Lisa-Marie, about strippers. I have total faith in Lisa-Marie when it comes to my hair so her thoughts on strippers, I would pay attention to. The whole stripper talk came about as we chatted aimlessly over a million subject topics. I’m never stuck for a word. Neither are hairdressers. I could have been a hairdresser if I had the talent, patience, artistic flair…
 
However, Lisa-Marie mentioned a hen’s night she went to where a stripper who dressed up like a fire-fighter burst in the door. Apparently you could have had him dressed as that or a cop or a tradie (workman/carpenter etc for the non-Aussies). So he turned up and they all oohed and ahhed and had a good laugh as he stripped to his jocks and gyrated around as strippers do. Apparently he was very oily and very orange-tanned in skin colour.  I personally like men to be men but I suppose you get that with strippers who shave all their body hair off - which is insane because real fire-fighters would have hairy chests and are women secretly wanting a hairless man? I dunno. Anyway so he stripped and did stuff and he picked up his kit and walked off into the night sweaty, slightly richer and with some of his orange tan dripping off...
 
It cost $300 to hire him to strut, thrust and parry. However, Lisa-Marie and I pondered just how much of that money he got and was he bi-sexual? Why bi-sexual? She thought that due to the no hair thing. I considered whether hairless cats were bi-sexual. Hmmm. We also pondered that for a while. We came to no conclusion on the cats and as women decided we were suspicious of hairless men as only women are strong enough to have hair ripped out by the roots. As for the dosh ($$) he would have picked up? I reckon a third which is probably not bad for an hour of shaking one’s arse. More than a writer would make but a writer couldn’t be a stripper because writers can’t shut up long enough to take their clothes off and then they would have to describe and kill the moment…

Sunday 9 September 2012

The Aviator...free download...mad if you don't...


The Aviator - Morgan Karpiel

Genre: Historical Fantasy Romance
Mood: Dramatic
Intimacy Rating: Adult Erotic
Wordcount: 20,000

Gilda Sinclair is known to be quite mad, a woman who drinks like a man, swears like one and takes lovers whenever she chooses, discarding her elevated standing as an aristocrat to seek her fortune as an airship pilot. After her father’s death, she insists on flying for his legendary dirigible company, only to learn that he has willed the controlling interest in the business to the one man she despises.

Nathan Lanchard was Gilda’s lover for one night and has endured her manipulative games ever since. In his mind, she is spoiled and reckless, intent on driving him beyond the limits of his control. As new opportunities cast doubt on his future with Sinclair Airship, and the dangers of war loom on the horizon, he will discover how ruthless her cat-and-mouse seductions can be, and what emotion truly lies at the heart of the dark lust that burns between them.
 

Life imitates art...coming soon



From Accidentally in Love...the I Hate My Job series...


To deflect attention from the fact he knew nothing about building, Glen spent most of his days coming up with ideas like buying cake every day to make people happy or trying to do ‘fun’ things like seeing which of the men in the office could try and kick the ceiling. This latter idea had ended up with one cracked tailbone, a hole in the wall the size of a man’s foot, a lot of incident and insurance paperwork to fill out, and a huge bill to repair the wall. Then there was the big ship’s bell that Glen insisted they buy and screw on the wall near Amarette’s desk. The reason behind the bell? It was so it could be rung whenever anyone felt like they needed excitement. Seriously. It was an office. Not Disneyland. The other employees got that. Glen didn’t. Everyone avoided the bell.

As the office manager, the bell drove Amarette mad. No one but Glen rang it. And, if he wasn’t making noise, he was demanding pizza be ordered for the whole thirty staff members, but only if it cost no more than fifteen dollars. “We’re on a strict budget you know, Amarette.” She knew that. She doubted he understood what budget meant. His fine Italian wool suits and expensive leather shoes were completely wrong for a tropical, humid climate like Cairns. Not that she cared if he sweated away to nothing. At least it would stop his grating need to over analyze everyone in the office. As far as Glen was concerned, everyone was found to be wanting and he told them so. Some said this was what sparked the ‘I hate Glen Glenwood’ page on Facebook. Amarette couldn’t say. She suspected they weren’t the only office who’d been ‘Glenwooded’ as there were over two-thousand likes in Facebook.   

“I take it you don’t like birthday cake, Amarette?”

They had just had an intensely tedious discussion about the office bills, none of which Glen seemed to understand and she had been on the verge of suggesting she bring in sock puppets to maybe explain the situation of debt, and subsequent loss of utilities if he refused to make a decision and sign off on bills. He avoided signing anything unless there was no other choice. Like when the lights went out or the telephone was disconnected. In essence he was a coward who was scared to be responsible for anything. “What?”

“I notice you’ll phone up and order one in but you won’t leave the office to buy it.”

She piled all the unsigned bills together and held them tightly against her breasts. It was that or throw them at him.  “What’s the difference?”

“Well, Amarette, leaving the office and finding the cake is important. It shows the birthday person you care. Ordering it sent in indicates cake means nothing to you.”

“Uh-huh.” What a total fuckwit. It was the whole Nero fiddling while Rome burnt thing. A discussion on cake when the construction business, a small off shoot of a large corporate giant, was slowly dying off. That he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that was scary. Not to Amarette. She was looking for another job, but others in the office wanted to believe they were secure. She knew there was no such thing. At thirty-five she had walked away from several workplaces that were on the verge of financial ruin due to their own ineptitude.

.....And then all sorts of stuff happens....
 

Friday 7 September 2012

On Fridays...



-          you are taller, thinner and generally more attractive

-          I would suggest not falling in love with anyone on a Friday because everyone is so full of hope after being trapped at work all week you need to make sure neither beer goggles or out-of-control-Friday-happiness clouds your judgment. Fall in love Saturday.

-          you don’t need chocolate for medicinal purposes. It can still be eaten but it’s more about the happiness affect

-          calories don’t count

-          you can do edits at your work desk on a Friday after writing for the rest of the week. It’s a refreshing change.

-          sex? It’s not dependent on the Friday rule unless it’s a co-worker then don’t go there. Also, see point two.

-          coffee has more of an orgasmic effect than medicinal so go have one or several
 
-     exercise is ok on a Friday because of points 3 and 4.
 
-     does you bum look big in that? Yes. Who cares? Why are you looking? - go back to point 2. Wait until midnight to analyze arses and intentions.   

-          And lastly, say what you want to who you want and know that whatever you do is justified because it’s Friday and you are fearless and the Friday gods understand and will protect you. That or have a fast mouth mouth and feet.   

Wednesday 5 September 2012

Like wow...


 
So, I was asked to give my opinion on what was happening in the office and why everything was such a shit-fest and how would I fix it. An hour and a half later, I was done and the man who asked that question said to me. “I was told you were direct but wow.” Yeah, I am wow. Don't be a bystander. If you accept less, you get less.   

Tuesday 4 September 2012

I do understand...


 Today, after getting lost several times because I always glance briefly at a map and declare to myself that in that one fast second I know exactly where I’m going – I don’t -  I eventually found myself at the St Vinnies (St Vincent DePaul) depot where I dropped off stuff for charity – aka garage sales stuff from last Saturday. Once there I chatted to a nice bloke who was quite happy to take it and also pick up a couple of arm chairs from my home. His words to me were along the lines of ‘you have no idea how many people are in need.’ I thought back to my mother, who, when we were kids, bought everything at good will because there was no money for anywhere else. A lot of you reading this know exactly what I mean. I wasn’t aware until I was about 13 that department stores with new clothes existed and I often think back to spoilt Julie Mason who made such fun of my old clothes. But you know what? I’m glad I grew up understanding the value of money and I had a mother who worked her arse off for us. So yeah, I do understand how people are in need. It’s good to be reminded of your roots. It makes you realize you’ve grown up damn good.       

Monday 3 September 2012

Sh*t Romance Writers Say - #2....


Sunday 2 September 2012

Clones...


 
So, my brother rang my father and asked what was wrong with me. Again. Really – that’s a big question to ask. Where does anyone start on something like that? Anyway, my brother, who I haven’t spoken to in a very long time and even then it ended badly, can’t or won’t grasp that I’m single. In his world, women get married. In mine, women do whatever the hell they want. It’s pretty simple. After hearing this never ending question about why I’m not married, I have to ask what business is it of his or anyone else’s?  Hmmm? And no, I’m not a lesbian. And yes, if I was I think that would at least make him feel better – irritated – but better and he could explain it to those of his snotty ilk who would nod their carefully coiffured heads and say ‘well, that makes sense. All single women are lesbians after all. Pass the gin, Binky.’ No, I’m not hideously scarred and hiding a tragic past and no, again, I’m not waiting for my prince to come because I can get by on by own and I’m not about to hook up with some sap on a horse. I don’t like riding horses.  

The thing is, in a world of people all wanting to follow popular trends, dress alike, listen to the same music and eat what’s hip and trendy being an individual with thoughts of your own and making decisions based on what suits you and no one else is threatening to some people. They're scared of people who can get by on their own. To them I say bugger off. I can’t help it if I refuse to clone.  To my brother, I say look at your own life before you judge another’s.

An early Sunday morning thought...



I’ve been thinking about stuff writers think about – love, romance, finding the one – all that stuff and in theory I believe is most likely correct yet when I look around me at the people in relationships who aren’t happy – and no, I don’t expect everyone to be deliriously happy - I wonder, after talking to them, how many are at least content and not just staying together through habit? This makes me wonder if romance books are modelled on real life or are they made to be a ideal of what people want to feel they need so women read them thinking  ‘if only’ or 'I will hunt me down a man and I will be happy damn it.'  Are writers then perpetuating an unrealistic myth and does romance really exist or if it something that can be bought for $3.99 and is used in lieu of taking happy pills?
 
Just a thought...