Something that writers and (more to the point) publishers have gotten hung up on is branding. What do you as an author write? The thinking is that if someone buys your book and likes it, they will only buy your next book if they can be assured that it will deliver something similar to the previous experience. Hence the rise and rise of trilogies, quadrilogies and series outside of the fantasy genre where it has always been a given.

I really dislike this idea, one look at my reading list and you will see that I try to read as widely as possible; everything from chick lit to scientific theory, so it is annoying to me that as a writer I have to be limited to just one genre if I want to be published. Often I’ll like an author’s style, and I’m willing to follow them along any story they want to take me to. Stephen King is a classic example with his fantastic sci-fi, classic horror, poignant coming of age and contemporary fiction (I know he also writes fantasy buy I’ve only just purchased the dark tower and haven’t yet started reading it).

Of course I’ve said it before, Stephen King did not just get to say ‘I want to write a story set in a prison about a man who is wrongfully accused of the murder of his wife’ and his publisher said ‘sure, easy sell’. He had to deliver a string of horror novels first, and even then he had to publish Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption in an omnibus with three other tales, and it was erroneously called a ‘tale of the supernatural’. So even back in the 70’s & 80’s branding was alive and well and impinging on the creativity of writers.

So this all comes back to my horror story conundrum. I finally decided not to write it. My horror story days were behind me and I had been working so hard to milk the one idea I had landed on that I thought I should just give it away. But just because my brain likes to surprise me on a regular basis on Thursday night I had a strong desire to pick up a pen and pad (I never write longhand) and in one sitting I wrote a full horror short story from start to finish. I didn’t even know it had been brewing.

Maybe it’s time for a pseudonym?

That was fear.

This week, for the first time ever recorded in May, a fire raged through the Adelaide hills. It was no Ash Wednesday, but it has burned down buildings and killed countless native animals. The smoke has been so strong at times that smoke detectors are going off in people’s houses around me. This morning ash peppered all the spider-webs around my house. Despite knowing how far away the fire is, it sets off a churn of uncomfortable emotions in my stomach.

What truly amazes me is that while I sit comfortably miles away in my home and get nervous, there are staff and volunteers going out and risking their lives; driving down tracks which may get cut off; going into areas that are as dry as tissue paper with flames and cinders raining around them as the smoke turns the day into an eerie twilight.

The Country Fire Service (CFS), like a million other quiet organisations that rely on volunteers, are what makes living in our community possible, and I don’t know that we really appreciate how lucky we are to have them until we need them. They are such wonderful, courageous, generous people that you can’t help but rediscover your faith in humanity.

Just for the record, as of my writing this on Saturday night, it has just started to rain and the fire is contained, let’s hope it is enough to let the fire fighters get a well-earned rest.

My discussion about the Nook a few weeks ago prompted a friend to tell me that she also found it a bit more difficult the flip to the end to see if she liked how it all turned out. WHAT!?!?!? And she’s a writer!

This week I have been reading a book called ‘The Well of Lost Plots’ by an author I normally LOVE, and I think with this book he thought it would be funny to write the book without a plot. I got to page 121 and I could not with any confidence say what it was about –I was quickly losing interest. I bemoaned this loudly to my colleagues so one suggested I flip ahead and read the end to see if it was worth sticking it out. Then someone else piped up and said they would never read a book without looking at the end first to make sure they were going to like it.

So poor writers are out there desperately trying to set up red herrings, invested emotion, hopes, dreams and fears for their readers, yet for a big chunk of the population there is no element of surprise. Surely knowing a character is alive in the last chapter would have to diminish your concern when they get themselves into a tight scrape in chapter seven?

This got me thinking, would you ever write a book differently if you knew that the last chapter was going to be read before the first? Maybe that is why there are so many books out there with that kind of meaningless ‘tie-up’ chapter at the end where we see everyone acting relieved and conveniently tying up all the little lose ends.

I don’t think I’ll change my endings, but it is certainly something to consider. We always think, as writers, that you need to grab your reader in the first paragraph, often spending weeks on perfecting it. Maybe we need to think about putting a lot more work into that last paragraph as well!?!

In one novel a whole third of the book was filler dressed up as a red herring, and after much fun and mayhem we ended up back at pretty much the same point in the story where we started following the red herring. While the mayhem was amusing, I was well aware that it had nothing to do with the story while I was reading it. Did that annoy me? Mostly not, but on reflection yes.

I understand the divide between filler and character/world building can be a bit fine sometimes, but I guess a good yard stick to use is only add your anecdote if it contributes to the reader’s understanding of the story, or of your character’s motivations. There is no point going into detail about a character’s former job of cleaning gutters unless they need to call on a skill or experience they picked up from that job later in the story.

Having said that, I did thoroughly enjoy some filler parts in one of the novels, and I would hate to see them cut out. So I guess like all rules in writing, breaking it can work, so long as you know what you are doing.

In an effort to trigger my horror muse I read a book of horror short stories. While the stories were original and quite well written, none of them came close to scaring me (and I could see a few great comic angles they had missed). It was only later, when I was watching the news, that I realised what a tough task horror writers have today; how on earth can they compete with a real world that can be so terrifying?

When you see what a ‘normal’ person is capable of, then zombies, ghosts, vampires and werewolves seem almost childish. A more chilling story would be for a ‘normal’ person to believe they are one of these supernatural creatures, but again we only need to open the newspaper to see such a story.

Given I refuse to write psycho killer or splatter fiction, I think it may at last be time to hang up my horror writing pen. If I can’t scare myself with a story I won’t class it as horror, and I certainly won’t release it to the world.

So I’m going to have one last go at writing a horror story that came to me in the middle of the night (when apparently everything is scary). If that doesn’t work I think I’m going to have to settle for being a spec fic writer who focuses on sci-fi and fantasy. If only there were more markets for horror comedy

I submitted the third chapter of a story, which I know had a big info dump in it. I needed the info dump; there was stuff the reader needed to learn that had to be revealed in a very short period of time. So despite all my internal alarms to the contrary, I resorted to an ‘as you know Bob’.

My group called me on it, as I knew (or at least hoped) they would. They also saw the bind I was in because I needed this info out fast. So we did something that will only ever happen in a writers group (or I assume for those published authors, maybe with an editor) we brainstormed how I could get around the issue, and someone came up with a fantastic solution.

This generous little piece of my fellow writers group member’s time might one day be the difference between my story getting picked up, or getting passed on. Instead of falling into a novice’s trap, I’ve now got a way around it, and I am so grateful.

So to all those people who spurn writers groups, saying they are toxic or full of jealous writers who want to see you fail, I say that you are in the wrong writers group. I’ve been in two now, both have been fantastic and full of people who want to help you to succeed.

There are so many reasons why I love my groups, and I feel blessed to have been able to find two such wonderful groups. Thank you!

This is my first ever experience with an e-reader, and even at page 258 I’m still not sure if I like it.

There is the anxiety of worrying about the Nook being hurt in my daily travels (I do most of my reading on public transport), but I guess I have to ignore this because I always have a bit of hyper-concern with the books of others anyway, and I’m sure if the e-reader was mine I’d quickly get over it.

One issue I have is not getting the visual cue of how far through the book I am. I know I can look down and see I’m on page 258 of 510, but I like to see that. I like to glance over at my book sitting on the table and see the bookmark sticking out indicating exactly how much more of it I have to go. But I know this is a stupid issue so I can’t really count that.

I also don’t like that it is not as easy to keep my finger in place and flip ahead to see how long the chapter is to know if I will be able to finish it before I get to my stop. I’m sure there probably is some technical way I can do this, but my impatience with the instruction manual rendered it a mystery to me.

I’m also very aware of the reflected glare I might be sending into the eyes of my fellow passengers as I’m reading, in the same way as I have been spotlighted on numerous trips by others. This has led to some awkward reading angles on the bus and might account for the sore back I’ve had this weekend.

But after all those negatives… I have accidentally done a few things, which if I knew how to do intentionally might be quite cool. I’ve slipped my finger on a word and the little Nook has defined it for me. The word was ‘was’ –so probably not one I needed help with, but not matter what angle I poked at other words I couldn’t replicate this handy little feature.

I’ve also accidentally highlighted stuff, not useful stuff, but there have been many times I would have liked to do that with books I’ve read in the past, but my ‘leave it as your received it’ policy on books has strictly forbidden any such vandalism.

Finally there is the benefit of being able to keep so many books in one tiny little machine. I could fit probably twenty of my personal libraries into this one little Nook. But having said that, I love my wall of books in the lounge room, and I can’t see a little Nook being able to replace that.

So I guess the one last downside which probably has sealed the fate of my purchase or not of an e-reader is that you can’t easily lend out your books. Fortunately for my Nook friend I am still old-fashioned, so he’s got one of my oft’ read paperbacks to keep him satisfied until I return his Nook.

It was only when I read ‘The Antidote – happiness for people who can’t stand positive thinking’ by Oliver Burkeman that I considered that perhaps we should not be looking for happiness, but rather contentment? Happiness, like sadness, is an extreme in the spectrum of emotions. It is something that we pass through, and it can often be triggered by external factors over which we have no control. Is it natural, or even possible to be in a state of happiness all the time?

For the first time in about 15 years I am in a place of contentment with my work. I enjoy what I do, it challenges me each day, and I get to mix with a lot of intelligent and friendly people. I don’t bound out of bed each morning with joy in my heart and a song on my tongue, but I don’t dread the alarm and prey for traffic congestion on my way in either. I am content, and I have to admit, I like it.

So I decided that contentedness is something we could strive for instead of happiness. Having reached this conclusion I thought my pondering could come to an end and I could move onto the next big question in life… Until Monday.

Sunday night for me is usually mellow-out time, but last Sunday I wrote a flash fiction story from start to end. I went straight into editing it, and by bed-time I was pretty pleased with what I had produced.

Then Monday morning came. I was doing the same work, with the same people, but I was restless. Really restless. Achingly restless. Each time I walked between meetings, or as I watched my lunch spinning around the microwave, all I could think of was that I’d rather be writing.

I really like my job, I do, but I think that drive for happiness is what makes me sit down, turn the computer on and write. Writing does make me happy, even if only fleetingly, but it is a wonderful feeling that you can get addicted to.

I know several writers now who have ‘made it’ and were able to give away their day jobs. I’m under no illusions that these writers are happy all the time, or even any happier on average than I am now, but I’m sure they get those moments of happiness when a cool idea hits them, or they write those magical two words ‘The End’ –and I would like to feel that more often.

So really, what’s the harm in chasing happiness as well as contentment? I think I’ll try for both!

I have previously seen several documentaries which have showed me big slabs of what this book told me, as well as hearing others espouse the virtues of what this book shared. But until I read the book it just didn’t seem to stick. Now, every time I make a decision about what I’m going to eat, aspects of this book flicker through my thoughts.

I know a big part of this is a me thing; I really get into books. I’m sure for others a book will not have as much impact as seeing something on the screen, or hearing the story from the lips of someone who has seen and knows. But I’m sure there are many others out there who do gel more strongly with what they read.

It makes you realise, yet again, what power there is in the written word. If only more of us could use that power to do good

I made some very logical and scientific decisions about what I was going to focus on, based on how close I was to the end of the stories, what effort was left to finish them off, that sort of thing. As you can imagine it involved some spreadsheets and conditional formatting to make cells change colour, a few drop-down boxes and a meaningless pivot table just to show myself that I hadn’t forgotten how to do it.

So I’m focussing on ‘James’ (one day I’ll win an award for least imaginative working titles), I’m liking ‘James’, I making good inroads into ‘James’, but guess who starts visiting me in the shower, when I’m vaguing out on the bus, when I’m going for a long walk… It’s not ‘James’… It’s ‘Lore’.

‘Lore’ is only 6 chapters long and has at least another 15 to go. ‘Lore’ comes about 12^th on my spreadsheet of stories to focus on. ‘Lore’ is meant to be ignored for at least the next 6 months and possibly put on the scrap heap. ‘Lore’ wants to be written.

I’m very aware that ‘inspiration if for amateurs’* so I am trying to resist ‘Lore’ –writing longhand what gets revealed to me, and even then only notating those parts that I have watched play out. But soon I think I’m going to have to give in and dive back into the story.

Maybe the mantra needs another tweak; sit down, write something and finish it, then sit down again and keep working on the things I want to work on as well. Not quite as punchy, but maybe it will put the phantoms to rest?

*quote from artist Chuck Close.