The Sinusitis Diaries

October 23, 2012

It’s the little things.  The minor forsights and the major errors, their conclusions documented across the wall, hiding their terrible secrets and nasty stories.

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Port Douglas

September 1, 2012

Several months ago I took a trip to Queensland.  A quick getaway – I didn’t know what I would find, but hoped it would be peaceful…

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Norah Head

January 15, 2012

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Lunar

January 5, 2012

The moon has been an object of fascination since the beginning of recorded history.  Last month was no different when I purchased a new toy for my camera: a telescope adaptor!

Borrowing a friend’s telescope for a few days, I managed to shoot my first (albeit blurry) images of the moon.  Obviously there are better examples out there, but this one is mine and I like it.  I now have an appreciation just how hard (and how expensive) a hobby astrophotography must be.  The rewards, however, might just be worth it.  Buying an expensive telescope has always been on my wish list…

Earlier last month, I captured this image of lunar eclipse without a telescope.  Quite small in comparison don’t you think?  The moon is 1/6th the size of Earth but without a basis for comparison, it really is hard to tell…

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Hint: I’m getting a new kitchen installed…

Option 3

September 12, 2011

Walk.

I’m sure I didn’t need a website to tell me that.

http://gourmettraveller.com.au/caramelised-pork-belly-with-chinese-coleslaw.htm

To edit a novel takes patience, discipline, courage, time, and funds.  It’s a labour of love.  It’s something you started and are now forced to finish.  It’s a crack in a teacup when all you want is a hot drink.

That last one might have been a stretch, but the insanity has set in.  Visions of the mad hatter now spring to mind as I stare out the window of my little room (the White Stripes wrote a good song about this).  But with forty pages to go, I’m on the home stretch and the end is in sight.  Just try not to think about the next draft.  Or the mail.  There are only so many times a day that one can check it.  It mostly ends up being junk anyway, but throwing things away is a task, isn’t it?

In my novel, some of the characters may be experiencing some existential crises.  And as I sit in my little black room with the lights off to save power, I feel like a character actor.  Am I merely deploying the Stanislavski method to writing?  The trick I believe is to ride the edge; for going insane for one’s art might be heroic in some sense, but I have better things to do.

Cake, anyone?

How many cakes does it take to edit 100 pages of your first novel?

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