Itchee Feet

I've been busy building a company called Itchee Feet, which is a one-stop shop for kids who travel. We've released our first book, AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 WAYS, with loads more to come soon. Check us out, buy the book, press like on Facebook, sign up for the newsletter, and do your bit to support small business. Thanks a million!

I'm busy building a company

"A Cat goes Kayaking"

My friend Ulrike recently completed 30 linoprints in 30 days, posting each print on her blog. That project became an exhibition at Sheffer Gallery a few weeks ago.

"A Cat goes Kayaking" is the book based on the exhibition and the blog. It contains all 30 linoprints and all 30 stories.

I was her muse (or perhaps amusement) for day 14.

This is a gorgeous book. It makes a beautiful gift.

You can buy it here: www.duck-books.com

Quote of the day

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude.

- Denis Waitley

Guest Blogging ARRA/SchizoPENia

Check out my guest blog at the ARRA website.

http://australianromancereaders.wordpress.com/2010/06/27/guest-blogger-jane-tara

I feel like an intruder here. I’ve only just finished my second novel, the sequel to FORECAST, which was published nearly three years ago. Never heard of it? Well you’re in the majority, but the book did produce a core group of loyal readers who continue to write and ask when book number two will be finished. At first, their emails were friendly, but now they ping into my inbox with slingshot force, bereft of any niceties and straight to the point … ‘WHERE’S THE FOLLOW UP BOOK???’

Good question. One I’ve avoided answering up until now. But it’s time I came clean and admitted the truth … as difficult as that is. You see … I have been writing … lots … but the truth is … (deep breath …) I have SchizoPENia.

There, I’ve said it.

SchizoPENia is a condition that afflicts 1 in 32 writers (non-ABS statistics), and for which there is no cure. The sufferer finds it impossible to stick to one genre when writing. I’m not talking about cross-genre mixing it up such as historical romance with a touch of paranormal. Or time travel slash urban fantasy slash erotica. SchizoPENia is when halfway through writing a romance novel a crime novel comes knocking on imagination’s door, and simply won’t leave. It’s when a kid’s book bursts forth in the middle of writing a romantic comedy. While most writers have a ‘voice’ … I have a few … My pen name should be Sybil.

After FORECAST was published, a mild dose of SchizoPENia kicked in. A voice in my head (that sounded suspiciously like Meg Ryan) needed to write a screenplay. I wrote two romantic comedies back to back.

The real issue lies with two other voices. One has a clipped English accent and barks out children’s stories. Another regularly interrupts and relates rambling travel tales. I have no choice but to listen to them both. I write children’s books and travel articles, which pays my rent. (Important … so my landlord says) Recently I decided to combine the two voices (the merged voice sounds like a Victorian traveler) and have been working on another project with my partner … but more on that soon. The point is, I am writing!

Being a true SchizoPENic, in the midst of all this writing, my romance writer’s voice interrupted and demanded that I return to my novel. TROUBLE BREWING continues the tale of the Shakespeare women, but this time focuses on the London clan. I loved being back in the world of romance. It’s a wonderful, joyous place to visit. But until there is a breakthrough cure for SchizoPENia, I won’t be able to live there. In the meantime, I ask my three loyal romance fans to be patient.

Choosing an accountant

My guy and I have been interviewing accountants. We’re launching a company and want the best accountants possible to help us structure and secure the business.

We met with one candidate—a shit hot firm, with a great reputation and client list. They’re good… They are experts at IP, and their advice was rock solid. Right in the middle of the partner winning us over with his brilliance and expertise… he drew two stick figures. He was explaining how to structure the company so as no one can touch us. For clarity, he sketched us in the centre of his notes. He drew my guy… tall and stick-figure-like. Then on the second stick figure… the female stick figure… MY STICK FIGURE… he drew tits.

Yes, the accountant drew boobs on my stick figure.

I blinked a couple of times, but the boobs were still there. I looked up at my partner… who was also blinking. We locked eyes… and tried not to laugh.

Many women at this point would take their business elsewhere. But I’m not like most women. He admired my breasts… and that’s okay, because I admired his balls. And truth be told, I’m after someone who will keep an eye on my assets… which makes this bastard the best accountant for the job.

Kitchen Goddess

My very talented friend, Ulrike, is an amazing artist. She's halfway through a challenge--30 lino prints in 30 days. Check out day 14... meeeeeee. I'm her muse. (Or amusement!) Kitchen Goddess.
http://edition-9.blogspot.com/2010/05/day-14-kitchen-goddess.html

Before kids books became totally PC...

I grew up around sailors. This is reminiscent of my childhood.

Flashed some parents and finished a book!

“A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally.” –Lillian Day

I dropped my kids at school today with my fly undone. That would generally indicate that I was in for a crap day… BUT… each day is what you make it. Showing my knickers to the other parents will not define my day (as much as it probably should) No… this day will be remembered for more than displaying a pair of old cotton bonds with “Playground of the rich and famous” on the front. (Actually, that’s a lie… the knickers are plain black… but I think that is a quote that should be on a pair of undies. BTW… quote copyright to me!)

Anyhoooo… back to my day (because it’s all about me, being my blog). Rather than spend the day mortified by my morning flash, I’m going to spend it feeling fabulous. You see, I just finished my novel and sent it to my agent. Yay me!

It’s called Trouble Brewing and really did have trouble brewing, for all sorts of reasons. But it’s done and I’ve just hit the send button, and heard the whoosh as it flew off to LA. Ahhhhh… time for a relaxing coffee… and then back to work. I have another book to finish now.

Botox or real beauty

I had lunch with a girlfriend today and was horrified to see a number of bruises on her face. She’s been going through an extremely difficult split with her husband, who’s an asshole on a good day. My first thought was that he’d hit her. I decided to approach the topic with care…
“What the fuck happened to your face?”
“Oh that… Botox darling. It’ll heal in a few days.”

I’ve never had Botox, although the thought certainly crosses my mind occasionally (only every time I look in the mirror). I’m needle phobic, so it’s highly unlikely that I ever will have it. Quite a few of my girlfriends get regular jabs, and I don’t judge them for it. But do they judge me?

I recently caught up with another friend who has had so much work she looks like Pricilla Presley. Thankfully she picked me up, because if I’d met her out, I’d have walked straight past her. She is virtually unrecognisable. I don’t get it. She was gorgeous. Now she’s an advertisement for one of Sydney’s top surgeons. But what occurred to me over dinner was… if she was so critical of herself that she was wiling to change her appearance so dramatically… was she actually focussing on what I had to say throughout the evening… or was she focussing on my flaws? Surely it’s impossible to see beauty in others if you’re blind to the beauty in yourself. And if your own flaws are so unacceptable, then it’s unlikely that you’ll be oblivious to mine.

I love flaws. I see great beauty in a strangely placed freckle or an oddly shaped nose. I think scars add character. And there is nothing more beautiful than a woman who has accepted that she’s aging with style and grace and an unashamed sexuality.

It’s not easy aging in today’s society, with its unhealthy emphasis on physical perfection. But every time I catch myself looking in the mirror and wishing for ten years back, or thinking perhaps I could conquer my fear of needles and get some work done, I remember this: I have always prided myself on being rather rebellious. And the most rebellious thing a woman can actually do nowadays is like herself.