demislw - not dead

Report Of My Death : Greatly Exaggerated

No, I'm not dead.

I made a pact with the devil regarding my second book: "Winners", and opted not to write a single word anywhere apart from the draft that is now sitting in my Scrivener being picked-apart, rewritten, and polished.

It's in great shape, if I may be so bold. Way further along than the first was after the first draft; a win for my own education/development, even if it's still a long way from sitting on your collective Kindles. Can't wait to share it. While I'm proud of having finished "The Brave" (still querying!) I've planned this second one to be a far different beast. "The Brave" was me determined to exorcise a whole bunch of autobiographical ghosts, trying to write a good book but not thinking of where it'd go when it was all over. "Winners" is me determined to simply tell a good story - a cracking yarn - very conscious that yes, I'd like this published, thank you very much (vs. 'whatever - I just want to finish a novel'). Already I can see the difference in the eyes of any friend or colleague I corner with a beer and run through both pitches. With The Brave, they say "yeah... cool... " but sorta glaze.  With Winners, they smile and nod, and usually say "that'd make a great movie", followed by the customary follow-up "have you thought about self-publishing?" (Me: "Yes. And no." Insert long-winded reply about having faith in the additional manuscript-honing talent that pursuing traditional/hybird path brings...)

That wasn't all I've been up to. Two short movie gigs (both Marvel properties, not-so-oddly enough). Quite a lot of travel (Spanish mountain hikes, fishing on Norwegian fjords etc.) not to mention coding and managing the tech/site/social end of Cat's epic East London dining/delivery pop-up project, which has all gone well.

So sorry, vanity domain. I've neglected you.

However, the near future already has its series of buzzwords: declutter. Slash and burn. Simplify. I'm quite busy shuffling a number of things around ( / out ) of my day-to-day/week-to-week at the moment, in favour of a cleaner, more focused state. The wind's been blowing that way for a while. This site will stay, of course. It kinda has to. Those were the rules, and those haven't changed.

Hopefully I'll be back to posting semi-regular again, and not just this pseudo-journal personal crap either. Maybe.


But not yet.

Enjoy your summer, folks, as I'm sure as hell enjoying mine... (August : Rome, Morocco...)


Watch this space.

Time Travel

We just got back from a short trip up to Brisbane to visit my relatives. Mission: obligatory visit "home" before the big London relocation on Tuesday.

It's fascinating going back there. Fascinating, and a bit hard. I'm not a fan of Brisbane. Never was. Moved away, and had my reasons. But returning to catch snippets of the people and places left behind every year or two is a sure recipe for noticing the brutal passage of time and it's various ravages and rewards. Ghosts around every corner as we drive through it. A stolen 17yo kiss in that park. A decrepit share-house now long-since renovated and sanitised. Things not where they're meant to be. Shiny things broken, and empty things full of apartment blocks or Pieface franchises. 

It's worse with the people. Realising the busty vixen type was actually that blushing shy little pre-pubescent primary school kid you remember. My brother's kids old enough to put up some serious banter and dishing it hard. Feeling the empty spaces around the city where my antipodean friends used to be. Seeing the old man more grizzled and slowed by age, clasping him firmly goodbye at the airport wondering if this will be the last time.

My nostalgic demands seem unfair, as the one who left it all behind, moving on always so easy. But I wonder which would be worse: a night lingering on the upset of all the lives moving on without you, or getting to the end of a sedentary, immersed life full of regret for the chances you never took. No, I don't wonder; I already know that answer, though knowing won't make the lingering any sweeter.