Hi all. I am currently taking a break from typing up the Seven_Deadlies series of prose/poem things. I have also been taking photos and so on which I will put up in due course. Currently I have only Wrath and Pride left to do, although all the little characterisations are done. Unfortunately, the Lust picture is the worst, I think, which is sad because it's the best of the poem things.
Going to my great-uncle's funeral today, which is kinda crap, and I have to go to a meeting tonight which will be unpleasant to say the least. I think it will get nowhere. At all. Oh well. On the plus side, I have more money than I thought, and my creative drought has ended (for the time being - I wrote four of the Seven_Deadlies things the other night in one spree of whateveryouwannacallit...).
In other news, I have been reading more Sherlock Holmes, which I am still loving, and am almost finished The Return of Sherlock Holmes. I wonder every time I pick the books up why on earth no-one has made a TV series based around the short stories, most of which are an ideal length to fill a half-hour/hour episode. Just out of interest, I think that the best actor in both stature and mannerism to play Holmes would be Robson Green, from Wire in the Blood (here is the best picture of him to looking Holmes-ish that I could find). I imagine him as Holmes and I think he'd set it off. I am a little stumped on who should play Watson, although after a great performance in Dr. Who and Life on Mars, I think that John Simm would make a great Professor Moriarty.
All in all though, things are going pretty well. Oh, by the way, it is freaking freezing here in Newcastle, and I am currently wishing for a warmer climate, which is odd. Trouble is, we haven't had a chance to slowly adjust - it's been really hot, then freezing. Hurrah. Not...
Have a great day. Blake.
PS - I was greatly excited by news of a certain book coming out this year, although what it was, and who it was by escapes me entirely. This year sees so much awesome stuff coming out, I really need to make an Official Blake-ified List Of 2008 Awesomeness. So I can keep track.
PPS - I am really excited because Neil Gaiman is in the country. And next Tuesday evening, at 6 pm in Kinokuniya Bookshop in The Galleries Victoria in Sydney, I am going to hear him give a talk and do a signing. Hurrah! (If you want to go, and happen to be reading this, go back a few posts and I have listed a booking number for the bookshop...). His The Graveyard Book comes out September 30th. And that is not the book I forgot.
PPPS - This is going to annoy me all day now...
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The 50th Post!
Well, this is the 50th post, and I am finally coming down from the massive adrenaline rush that has been the last few weeks. I have begun to actively write again, and have now completed 5 of the "Seven Deadly Sins" poems, and little sketches to accompany them. When I have bashed out the last 2, I'll post up pictures and text, hopefully you'll like them. As for other things, I have been working on The Witching Hour again, and also Nivera, which I mentioned in the last post.
I am currently trying to work out a character who I would like to see appear in multiple books, and is based on a story that a random guy called James told me once, about a djinn. So I'm working on this stuff. I'll talk later. Going to have tea.
PS - The car is nice, and also;
PPS - Check out this stuff, D.M. Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo. It's remarkably detailed and thoughtful, as well as wonderfully illustrated and appendicised. Hurrah. For those not familiar with my obsessions, I love fantasy novels that are complex and well-imagined and detailed enough to need hefty appendicies... cue Tolkien.
I am currently trying to work out a character who I would like to see appear in multiple books, and is based on a story that a random guy called James told me once, about a djinn. So I'm working on this stuff. I'll talk later. Going to have tea.
PS - The car is nice, and also;
PPS - Check out this stuff, D.M. Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo. It's remarkably detailed and thoughtful, as well as wonderfully illustrated and appendicised. Hurrah. For those not familiar with my obsessions, I love fantasy novels that are complex and well-imagined and detailed enough to need hefty appendicies... cue Tolkien.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
A fair bit of news...
A lot has been going on.
"That's bloody great, mate', I hear you say, 'but you haven't been on here much."
Well that is quite true. But in the last few weeks, apart from (as I mentioned in a previous blog) working too much and doing too much uni work, I have been doing the following:
1. Going insane. That's right. I have: it takes a lot more time to go insane that I had anticipated. If I lived in a wonderful, Lovecraftian world a lot of time spent going insane could be saved simply by finding something odd, looking at it a litte too long, and then smiling comfortably and descending into the depths of utter madness.
2. Buggerising with the Mannequin thing. Yeah. Still going. In the process of a heft edit at the moment, putting in directions of movement and re-writing the beginning and the end.
3. Working on a short story I wrote in a notebook about 3 months ago. I am currently doing that up and making it work. Which is a lot of work. I have about 5 drafts, and 8 endings, none of which I am entirely happy about (which is why I put it down 3 months ago).
4. Playing with Nivera stuff. Yeah, you won't know what that's all about. Never mind, you'll find out soon enough.
5. Buying a car. I am getting a 2003 Huyandi Elantra. White. Manual. Great nick.
So there you have it. A breif and rather accurate desription of my life for the last few weeks.
Cya!
PS. I was at work today, and I thought of a really lame, but so-lame-it's-funny shirt for coffee-makers (like me) to wear at work - MAKE LATTE, NOT WAR.
"That's bloody great, mate', I hear you say, 'but you haven't been on here much."
Well that is quite true. But in the last few weeks, apart from (as I mentioned in a previous blog) working too much and doing too much uni work, I have been doing the following:
1. Going insane. That's right. I have: it takes a lot more time to go insane that I had anticipated. If I lived in a wonderful, Lovecraftian world a lot of time spent going insane could be saved simply by finding something odd, looking at it a litte too long, and then smiling comfortably and descending into the depths of utter madness.
2. Buggerising with the Mannequin thing. Yeah. Still going. In the process of a heft edit at the moment, putting in directions of movement and re-writing the beginning and the end.
3. Working on a short story I wrote in a notebook about 3 months ago. I am currently doing that up and making it work. Which is a lot of work. I have about 5 drafts, and 8 endings, none of which I am entirely happy about (which is why I put it down 3 months ago).
4. Playing with Nivera stuff. Yeah, you won't know what that's all about. Never mind, you'll find out soon enough.
5. Buying a car. I am getting a 2003 Huyandi Elantra. White. Manual. Great nick.
So there you have it. A breif and rather accurate desription of my life for the last few weeks.
Cya!
PS. I was at work today, and I thought of a really lame, but so-lame-it's-funny shirt for coffee-makers (like me) to wear at work - MAKE LATTE, NOT WAR.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Just to say hello
This is mainly to say hi and that sort of stuff. Busy at the moment, and although I have heaps of ideas and scribblings in the works (including the more intricate details of stories I'm working on) I have not had the time to write in any real capacity.
The dominant reason for this is that I am on holidays. 'What?' I hear you ask... 'You should have infintitely more time if you are on holidays!?!' And right you are. However. I am on what I like to call 'figurative holidays'. The are called holidays, and may look a little like them, but they really aren't. See, while on the so-called uni holidays, I work 5 days a week, and I still have to complete and - get this - go into uni and physically hand them in. That's right, I have to go to uni, in person, and hand in assignments. In the holidays. Pardon me for thinking that the uni is a douche.
The dominant reason for this is that I am on holidays. 'What?' I hear you ask... 'You should have infintitely more time if you are on holidays!?!' And right you are. However. I am on what I like to call 'figurative holidays'. The are called holidays, and may look a little like them, but they really aren't. See, while on the so-called uni holidays, I work 5 days a week, and I still have to complete and - get this - go into uni and physically hand them in. That's right, I have to go to uni, in person, and hand in assignments. In the holidays. Pardon me for thinking that the uni is a douche.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Good Times
Greetings. I have been remarkably busy in the last week, and am working lots and writing lots for uni (despite it being holidays, I have an assignment due in a few days) and so on. Two things of note:
1. CHOPPER TALKING ABOUT DEADSH!TS AND HOW TO STOP THEM TAKING OVER
2. I heard a great saying last night, which I rather liked - "Circumstances are like a mattress - if you are on top, things are comfortable, but if you lie underneath then you can suffocate.
Have a great week. Blake.
1. CHOPPER TALKING ABOUT DEADSH!TS AND HOW TO STOP THEM TAKING OVER
2. I heard a great saying last night, which I rather liked - "Circumstances are like a mattress - if you are on top, things are comfortable, but if you lie underneath then you can suffocate.
Have a great week. Blake.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Snippets
Jack the Ripper leaned back in his chair and retreated into his mind against the ramblings of Springheel Jack, who was regaling him with the tale of scaring some poor maid or other to death, and his dastardly escape from the police.
'The poor thing made this brilliantly contorted face, and then promptly died of fright - I wish you'd been there. I'm sure it's the kind of thing you appreciate. After all, you kill them hookers for the look-in-the-eye don't you?' Springheel prompted.
'I have other things on my mind' Ripper replied, 'Its been a good few months now and we haven't heard a peep from Jack the Axe.' Sighing heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Ripper puffed on his cigar and took a sip of whiskey. There was trouble afoot; in the many centuries of their little game, not once had there been such a long period without communication. And the nerves were beginning to fray.
The game went something like this. Many centuries ago (even the three aren't sure exactly how many) three immortals had met and fallen in together. It came to pass that every so often they would re-invent themselves, and take on a new 'role' as they liked to think of it, a new guise to keep up with the times. At present, the agreement had them as serial killers or general havoc wreakers. They wanted to spark a chain of urban legend, as a bit of a joke, and to see how long it lasted. To make the whole scenario even funnier, they had agreed to all include "jack" in their press name.
So it was that Jack the Ripper and Springheel Jack had begun with gusto, planning different and interesting ways to immortalise themselves (in popular culture - remember they are already immortal physically), and started killing and scaring and generally invoking terror at the mention of their names. Unfortunately not all had gone according to the plan, and Jack the Axe (who had taken certain pleasure at the idea of being an axe murderer) was nowhere to be found. He had simply disappeared.
And so Ripper, burdened with leadership of the little band, found himself wishing that he had properly died all the way back when he was Julius Caesar and the other two buggers had conspired ("All in good fun, eh?") to kill him. It is worth mentioning that they were not actually a bad group. Certainly, there was a certain amount of blood on their hands, but that didn't mean that they were "evil". In fact, they had come out of a stint of humanitarian work, running soup kitchens for the poor, and competing to see who made the best soup.
All that aside, Ripper was nervous and, although he tried not to show it, actually quite worried about their missing comrade.
Springheel was as mad as usual, 'I really don't see why they think they will ever catch me, I just spring off like a jack-in-the-box and over the rooftops... gone!' He giggled at his little joke, but Ripper didn't seem to notice. Huffily, Springheel mumbled 'I'm going to bed', and he shuffled off without the usual bounce in his step.
'The poor thing made this brilliantly contorted face, and then promptly died of fright - I wish you'd been there. I'm sure it's the kind of thing you appreciate. After all, you kill them hookers for the look-in-the-eye don't you?' Springheel prompted.
'I have other things on my mind' Ripper replied, 'Its been a good few months now and we haven't heard a peep from Jack the Axe.' Sighing heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders, Ripper puffed on his cigar and took a sip of whiskey. There was trouble afoot; in the many centuries of their little game, not once had there been such a long period without communication. And the nerves were beginning to fray.
The game went something like this. Many centuries ago (even the three aren't sure exactly how many) three immortals had met and fallen in together. It came to pass that every so often they would re-invent themselves, and take on a new 'role' as they liked to think of it, a new guise to keep up with the times. At present, the agreement had them as serial killers or general havoc wreakers. They wanted to spark a chain of urban legend, as a bit of a joke, and to see how long it lasted. To make the whole scenario even funnier, they had agreed to all include "jack" in their press name.
So it was that Jack the Ripper and Springheel Jack had begun with gusto, planning different and interesting ways to immortalise themselves (in popular culture - remember they are already immortal physically), and started killing and scaring and generally invoking terror at the mention of their names. Unfortunately not all had gone according to the plan, and Jack the Axe (who had taken certain pleasure at the idea of being an axe murderer) was nowhere to be found. He had simply disappeared.
And so Ripper, burdened with leadership of the little band, found himself wishing that he had properly died all the way back when he was Julius Caesar and the other two buggers had conspired ("All in good fun, eh?") to kill him. It is worth mentioning that they were not actually a bad group. Certainly, there was a certain amount of blood on their hands, but that didn't mean that they were "evil". In fact, they had come out of a stint of humanitarian work, running soup kitchens for the poor, and competing to see who made the best soup.
All that aside, Ripper was nervous and, although he tried not to show it, actually quite worried about their missing comrade.
Springheel was as mad as usual, 'I really don't see why they think they will ever catch me, I just spring off like a jack-in-the-box and over the rooftops... gone!' He giggled at his little joke, but Ripper didn't seem to notice. Huffily, Springheel mumbled 'I'm going to bed', and he shuffled off without the usual bounce in his step.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Finally Facebook does something to prove its not poo!
I hate Facebook. It's like MySpace, but dysfunctional. I rarely use it. A friend of mine sent me an invitation to see which Jane Austen heroine I was (go figure) but my eye was caught instead by a "Which Magical Creature are you?" test.
I took it, and apparently, I am a vampire. Rock on Facebook.
As an aside, my all-time favourite vampire picture comes from a guy called Sam Weber, and I found it in a book entitled "BEASTS!". Its really good. I am not going to show it here cause of copyright issues, however, a quick google search will turn it up in a few places.
Check out his website too, really cool and creepy.
Back to assignments. Blake.
I took it, and apparently, I am a vampire. Rock on Facebook.
As an aside, my all-time favourite vampire picture comes from a guy called Sam Weber, and I found it in a book entitled "BEASTS!". Its really good. I am not going to show it here cause of copyright issues, however, a quick google search will turn it up in a few places.
Check out his website too, really cool and creepy.
Back to assignments. Blake.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Finished Draft of Mannequin Monologue
Well, I said I wouldn't post more on here until it was done, and I have finished the first draft - that's good enough for me. I am not entirely happy with the ending, and I need to make it flow better, but more or less, this is it (remember this is written to be said aloud):
Mannequin Monologue
Each night, after work, I sit down at my desk, perched with my laptop, and I stare at the screen, expectant, waiting for the words to come. I feel like I have something to offer, but it just won't come out, no matter how hard I try. I got into writing purely by accident, a friend was taking a night class and didn't want to go alone, so I went with her, and found myself enthralled. I began to read a lot, and in my spare time, I would often write snippets of things, like a memoir, detailing the things that I saw each day.
Then one day, I decided to write a book, a collection of these memoirs, amusing tales about what I had seen and heard, a voyeristic picture of people who walked in front of me every day, assuming I wasn't watching. You people do the most curious things when you think no-one is looking.
But I digress. After making this decision one day, I went home eagerly and sat down, waiting for the words to start flowing. But they never did. And they still haven't. So, night after night, I sit there, looking into the oblivion of a blank Word document, and nursing a slowly-cooling mug of coffee, wishing something would appear.
I should probably introduce myself. My name is Emma. I don't have a last name, although I would like a foreign, romantic one if I did. Maybe something French. See, I have no last name, because I am a mannequin. We are not given the dignity of full names, hell, some of us they don't bother naming at all.
The funny thing about mannequins is that most people don't realise posing in shop windows is just a job. Something we were made for, sure, and something we're good at, but we have other interests and passions too. Mine is writing. I met this guy once, who modelled for the Trent Nathan suits, who was really into death metal, had this mad wig he used to mosh in and all. The point is, that we are more than simply plastic dolls that make some people envious, some uneasy, and most indifferent.
I'm not going to claim that "we are people too" or anything stupid like that, but we sure as hell have something to offer. After all, there are few people that put the effort into watching the ebb and flow of humanity like we do. Watching for hours on end, I often wish that I had the luxury of doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. But unfortunately, this is my lot in life and I'm damn well going to make the most of it. And maybe leave a little something behind.
This is, of course, why I write. Or want to. Or try to. It's an odd process, see. Some authors claim that the words just appear to them and they type it out, or scribble in longhand, or whatever. Others say they imagine them. Still more claim that you type and type and eventually something good comes out and you work with that. Maybe the Muse strikes differently, somehow, for those who are made of plastic. For those like me. Or more precisely, maybe it doesn't strike at all.
Its been a few weeks now, sitting there at night. Waiting. After a few evenings of total unproductivity, I spent some time looking through news articles, or my previous scribbles, looking for something worth relating to the screen. But I had nothing to comment on - the news was pretty empty for the most part, and my memoirs, though decent, seemed distant and detached from me, as if they had been written by someone esle, a long time ago.
I've learned that writing is a fluid thing, and you have to adapt. For me, there are times when I look back and think "Oh, God, what is this garbage I've written, and how did I ever think it was any good?" Then there are times when you can look back and go "Wow, that's pretty swish."
But knowing that its fluid, knowing that some of the things I've scibbled in the past are ok, does not really help me now. I need something new, and fresh. And that is precisely where I come unstuck. When wanting to leave something behind, something tangible, life changing in the way that great books can be, it's hard to kow where to start. I have so much experience with the world that no-one sees. I wish that I could open peoples' eyes to show them what we mannequins see every day - people in pain, hurting, wishing that they could be like us, and yet wanting all that their existence has to offer as well. We have learned to be content with our lot - we can strive to change and make things better, but we were made for a purpose, and the fulfilment of that is our greatest task. Chasing a higher calling is something that you can take for granted. Not us, for us, it is a battle the whole way.
Unfortunately for me, it has been difficult to seek help. Between work and rest, I don't have a great deal of time to find people to ask for assistance, and even if I could find the time, I doubt help would be easy to come by. After all, no-one would be really interested in seeing a mannequin get published. It seems stupid, laughable - it's a waste of time even bothering with it...
A couple of weeks back, I began speaking with an older mannequin. She told me her story over a few drinks one night. On the verge of retirement, she is bitter, hates people for what they have done to her. "Years", she said, voice cracked with the whiskey she drank straight "For bloody years I have stood there and watched the bastards go by, wasting their lives wishing for something good to come out of it. They look at us, and they want our perfection, our proportions or ageless faces. People have everything we want, and they throw it away. If we could have their time, their lives, it would be different. The changes that come with age, the etching of our experiences on our faces, we would celebrate it, rejoice in it, but they stand oblivious, hating the decay of time. The world is a place of irony, my dear. And that is, without a doubt, the greatest truth of all."
She continued on with her tale of wanting to be a professional writer. She had written some amazing things, and no-one had cared. She had shown an agent once, who took her work and sold it to a down-on-her-luck author for a lot of money. Unfortunately, that's the way things go. But it makes me realise that I want to do this even more. I want to do it for her, and for me, and all my kind, and if nothing else, to show that it can be done, that we can leave something of value behind when we are through with this life, just the same as you can.
So this is why I find myself here, in this room, with you people. I want to explore the ways of expression, the techniques and crafts the same way you all do. I want to show everyone that literature is transcendant - it goes over and above everything else. I want to show that it is higher, and truer than all else, that it can change you and shape you, that it is capable of uplifting you or breaking your heart.
I have decided to start this writers' group that we all might be able to journey and explore this life and this form together, that we may grow through one another, and find inside ourselves talents and tales that we couldn't uncover on our own. Because at the end of the day, we are not made as islands, even deep within me, something more than plastic and metal throbs away, and longs to connect. Through this group, lets learn to express who and what we really are, and in sharing that, truly discover ourselves.
Copyright, Blake Jolly, 2008.
Mannequin Monologue
Each night, after work, I sit down at my desk, perched with my laptop, and I stare at the screen, expectant, waiting for the words to come. I feel like I have something to offer, but it just won't come out, no matter how hard I try. I got into writing purely by accident, a friend was taking a night class and didn't want to go alone, so I went with her, and found myself enthralled. I began to read a lot, and in my spare time, I would often write snippets of things, like a memoir, detailing the things that I saw each day.
Then one day, I decided to write a book, a collection of these memoirs, amusing tales about what I had seen and heard, a voyeristic picture of people who walked in front of me every day, assuming I wasn't watching. You people do the most curious things when you think no-one is looking.
But I digress. After making this decision one day, I went home eagerly and sat down, waiting for the words to start flowing. But they never did. And they still haven't. So, night after night, I sit there, looking into the oblivion of a blank Word document, and nursing a slowly-cooling mug of coffee, wishing something would appear.
I should probably introduce myself. My name is Emma. I don't have a last name, although I would like a foreign, romantic one if I did. Maybe something French. See, I have no last name, because I am a mannequin. We are not given the dignity of full names, hell, some of us they don't bother naming at all.
The funny thing about mannequins is that most people don't realise posing in shop windows is just a job. Something we were made for, sure, and something we're good at, but we have other interests and passions too. Mine is writing. I met this guy once, who modelled for the Trent Nathan suits, who was really into death metal, had this mad wig he used to mosh in and all. The point is, that we are more than simply plastic dolls that make some people envious, some uneasy, and most indifferent.
I'm not going to claim that "we are people too" or anything stupid like that, but we sure as hell have something to offer. After all, there are few people that put the effort into watching the ebb and flow of humanity like we do. Watching for hours on end, I often wish that I had the luxury of doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. But unfortunately, this is my lot in life and I'm damn well going to make the most of it. And maybe leave a little something behind.
This is, of course, why I write. Or want to. Or try to. It's an odd process, see. Some authors claim that the words just appear to them and they type it out, or scribble in longhand, or whatever. Others say they imagine them. Still more claim that you type and type and eventually something good comes out and you work with that. Maybe the Muse strikes differently, somehow, for those who are made of plastic. For those like me. Or more precisely, maybe it doesn't strike at all.
Its been a few weeks now, sitting there at night. Waiting. After a few evenings of total unproductivity, I spent some time looking through news articles, or my previous scribbles, looking for something worth relating to the screen. But I had nothing to comment on - the news was pretty empty for the most part, and my memoirs, though decent, seemed distant and detached from me, as if they had been written by someone esle, a long time ago.
I've learned that writing is a fluid thing, and you have to adapt. For me, there are times when I look back and think "Oh, God, what is this garbage I've written, and how did I ever think it was any good?" Then there are times when you can look back and go "Wow, that's pretty swish."
But knowing that its fluid, knowing that some of the things I've scibbled in the past are ok, does not really help me now. I need something new, and fresh. And that is precisely where I come unstuck. When wanting to leave something behind, something tangible, life changing in the way that great books can be, it's hard to kow where to start. I have so much experience with the world that no-one sees. I wish that I could open peoples' eyes to show them what we mannequins see every day - people in pain, hurting, wishing that they could be like us, and yet wanting all that their existence has to offer as well. We have learned to be content with our lot - we can strive to change and make things better, but we were made for a purpose, and the fulfilment of that is our greatest task. Chasing a higher calling is something that you can take for granted. Not us, for us, it is a battle the whole way.
Unfortunately for me, it has been difficult to seek help. Between work and rest, I don't have a great deal of time to find people to ask for assistance, and even if I could find the time, I doubt help would be easy to come by. After all, no-one would be really interested in seeing a mannequin get published. It seems stupid, laughable - it's a waste of time even bothering with it...
A couple of weeks back, I began speaking with an older mannequin. She told me her story over a few drinks one night. On the verge of retirement, she is bitter, hates people for what they have done to her. "Years", she said, voice cracked with the whiskey she drank straight "For bloody years I have stood there and watched the bastards go by, wasting their lives wishing for something good to come out of it. They look at us, and they want our perfection, our proportions or ageless faces. People have everything we want, and they throw it away. If we could have their time, their lives, it would be different. The changes that come with age, the etching of our experiences on our faces, we would celebrate it, rejoice in it, but they stand oblivious, hating the decay of time. The world is a place of irony, my dear. And that is, without a doubt, the greatest truth of all."
She continued on with her tale of wanting to be a professional writer. She had written some amazing things, and no-one had cared. She had shown an agent once, who took her work and sold it to a down-on-her-luck author for a lot of money. Unfortunately, that's the way things go. But it makes me realise that I want to do this even more. I want to do it for her, and for me, and all my kind, and if nothing else, to show that it can be done, that we can leave something of value behind when we are through with this life, just the same as you can.
So this is why I find myself here, in this room, with you people. I want to explore the ways of expression, the techniques and crafts the same way you all do. I want to show everyone that literature is transcendant - it goes over and above everything else. I want to show that it is higher, and truer than all else, that it can change you and shape you, that it is capable of uplifting you or breaking your heart.
I have decided to start this writers' group that we all might be able to journey and explore this life and this form together, that we may grow through one another, and find inside ourselves talents and tales that we couldn't uncover on our own. Because at the end of the day, we are not made as islands, even deep within me, something more than plastic and metal throbs away, and longs to connect. Through this group, lets learn to express who and what we really are, and in sharing that, truly discover ourselves.
Copyright, Blake Jolly, 2008.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Just a Quickie... (not as suss as it sounds)
Just a quick note to say hello and tell you I have had a very productive week, which is why I haven't blogged (or maybe I have been productive because of not wasting time blogging...?!). I am excited because my mate Dave sent me a note to say that Neil Gaiman is coming to Sydney. In May. And I am going.
He is appearing for a 20 min talk and 40 min Q&A session followed by a signing, beginning at 6pm on Tuesday 6th May, and the Kinokuniya bookshop in Sydney's Galleries Victoria. If you want to go, its free, but you have to put your name down - you can do that by contacting Kinokuniya:
Level 2
The Galeries Victoria
500 George Street
Sydney 2000
NSW
T: (02)9262-7996
F: (02)9283-1055
Have a great weekend folks! Blake.
PS - Why did the Irishman wear two belts??
To be sure to be sure.
Hahah. A mate told me tonight, and I found it amusing. Seeya!
He is appearing for a 20 min talk and 40 min Q&A session followed by a signing, beginning at 6pm on Tuesday 6th May, and the Kinokuniya bookshop in Sydney's Galleries Victoria. If you want to go, its free, but you have to put your name down - you can do that by contacting Kinokuniya:
Level 2
The Galeries Victoria
500 George Street
Sydney 2000
NSW
T: (02)9262-7996
F: (02)9283-1055
Have a great weekend folks! Blake.
PS - Why did the Irishman wear two belts??
To be sure to be sure.
Hahah. A mate told me tonight, and I found it amusing. Seeya!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Things of great excitement to me currently...
Things of great excitement to me currently are:
1) The sudden realisation that when sung loudly and drunkenly, the theme song of Home and Away is actually quite moving
2) The also sudden realisation that I may well survive the next couple of weeks at uni and successfully reach the holidays
3) The grand discovery of Isobelle Carmody's great series The Obernewtyn Chronicles, and the amusement that comes with not having to wait 8 years or so for the next book...
4) I have FINALLY finished Draft #1 of the Mannequin Monologue to a degree I am happy with, and I have sent it to the person I am writing it for (Happy Birthday to her...) and am awaiting a reply as to what is wrong and needs fixing
5) The awesome children's cover art for The Graveyard Book (written by Neil Gaiman, out end of September) has been posted on his blog, and looks amazing. There is also dummy text which gives hints as to various events in the book, and has made me rather excited.
6) I recieved rather good marks (Distinction) in the writing task I posted here a few weeks back (the Discursive Writing one...) and I was rather thrilled by the comments; according to the marker I am one of about three people from fifty who can properly emply semicolons. In fact, I just did.
Have a sterling week. Blake.
1) The sudden realisation that when sung loudly and drunkenly, the theme song of Home and Away is actually quite moving
2) The also sudden realisation that I may well survive the next couple of weeks at uni and successfully reach the holidays
3) The grand discovery of Isobelle Carmody's great series The Obernewtyn Chronicles, and the amusement that comes with not having to wait 8 years or so for the next book...
4) I have FINALLY finished Draft #1 of the Mannequin Monologue to a degree I am happy with, and I have sent it to the person I am writing it for (Happy Birthday to her...) and am awaiting a reply as to what is wrong and needs fixing
5) The awesome children's cover art for The Graveyard Book (written by Neil Gaiman, out end of September) has been posted on his blog, and looks amazing. There is also dummy text which gives hints as to various events in the book, and has made me rather excited.
6) I recieved rather good marks (Distinction) in the writing task I posted here a few weeks back (the Discursive Writing one...) and I was rather thrilled by the comments; according to the marker I am one of about three people from fifty who can properly emply semicolons. In fact, I just did.
Have a sterling week. Blake.
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