Weekend art work: Came up with my version of the Mad Hatter who will be a character featuring in my new book series, Steampunk Inspired with the freaky goggles and robotic animals including The March Hare. Had some great ideas for the character I'm going to write so I hope everyone likes the illustration of him.
(Close up of robotic Steampunk inspired animals including The March Hare)
It's happened again, that moment of utter overwhelming brilliance. They're red, and they look like Santa's coat cut and sewn into the most beautiful perfect pair of boots. The elves of the workshop could have made these. They were practically designed for the Spirit of Christmas. Medium height, tight, the lining wrapped in cream fur and the exterior made from suede. They have a heel I could manage, and I can already see them matched against twenty autumn/winter outfits. I'd need a red jumper, and a red coat or a red poncho, and a ribbon, and creamy wooly knits, or snowwhite fleece. I NEED these boots!
Some time later...
I hate my feet. People who are shorter than 5.9 and wish they were tall and talk about it often...I hate you. Ok bit strong, but you cannot find nice shoes in your size, you end up bulldozing innocent people in Primark when new stock arrives because they only ever have 2 pairs of size 8's available EVER! You're always conscious that if you wear heels people think you're abnormal, you hear this phrase often: "Blimey, you're tall ay ya?", men don't find you attractive or they d...o but they say phrases like this "I'd fancy you if you weren't so tall" OR "This girl you're setting me up with...is she errr as tall as you?" (insert awkward face), your feet always look overly big to you no matter what, you buy shoes you don't even like just because "they fit, omg they fit!" AND the beautiful Red Christmas boots that are on special offer that are murder worthy, must have ARE NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR SIZE! Urghhhh! ...Rant over. I feel slightly less angry, I am going to play my tiny violin now.
Writing one of my new books and I'm bored of it already. I told myself I'd only do ONE chick lit because I had that idea in my head but now I've started another because 1.) It appeals to a certain audience that I can reach, and 2.) I have developed a few new ideas. But I just don't find this sort of thing that interesting myself. I have another idea for a series that I'm really excited about, it will take longer to write and I want it illustrated and perfect, it's right up my street and I think until I have it out of my system I won't be able to focus on these other stories.
I'm going to postpone these chick lit's I've started and make a solid attempt at getting my teeth into the Fantasy genre. That's where my own interest and passion lies. Yes I've decided. I'm going to take myself down this route. For now everything else is on standby.
It's bloody freezing in here. Not so cold yet as to see my breath crystallising in front of my lips (which I assure you this room has been in the past) but freezing none the less. Freezing so I am hunched over my hot water bottle wrapped in a thick jumper and jeans. I got drenched in the rain the last few days and now I'm paying the price for the wretched weather. My arthritis hasn't just creaked it's full on crunched and cramped itself into a ball of pain. My toes, knees, shoulders, ankles my wrists and my fingers. It's the fingers that bothers me the most. I'm used to everything else.
My knees were the first thing to give way when I was little, my shoulders were much later when I was in high school, but my hands have only been for the last few years. The first time I cried, clasping one crunched up hand in the other unable to deal with the sudden pain and afterwards the insistent ache. I remember the first time my hands curled up into a frozen state of agony as if it happened just minutes ago, I'm still not used to it. They're not screaming now, just aching, I can still type. Not so much for holding a pen or pencil for very long but I can type.
I suppose I ought to start a course of tablets tomorrow. Take a couple of weeks before they work their way into my system and take the swelling and pain down anyway. Winter's not even started. This is lousy. All I want to do is curl up in the warm and eat.
Nothing to boil the kettle for. A bit of a waste of time if I'm perfectly honest. Let's just leave it there.
Something is going to happen. I keep telling myself it's going to work out soon.
I think I'm getting chubby. I'm too down about this Pencil Skirt shit to really focus on my weight right now. Maybe I'll just get fat over Christmas and sort it out afterwards.
Wish I wasn't so hungry, but my god I'm starving. I eat when I'm sad, that's the worst way to be.
I have yet another Pencil Skirt day scheduled for tomorrow, hoisting myself up on that lifeline I mentioned earlier. Coffee with Two Sugars. Maybe that will work out. Perhaps I'll manage to climb up onto that life line after all and I'll be a Falcon. A Falcon not flying anywhere but with the beginnings of wings none the less. That would be something at least.
I have another pencil skirt day...I'm so certain of my cards and what they read that I'm clinging to the hope that they are right and something will come of this month. If this new pencil skirt opportunity is the triumph I predicted for after the disappointment then please let me know soon. Disappointment is better than waiting at any rate.
that sort of person I have been making a round of tea every morning, because
making tea when the weathers cold is sort of my kind of thing. Well Coffee with
Two Sugars turns out to be someone important and seeing my situation he might
be throwing me a lifeline. I can’t blag my way through this, this all depends
on an ability to demonstrate dedication and quick learning, I need to be
competent I can’t just pretend to be.
Its generous and considerate of Coffee with Two
Sugars to throw me this life line, the only question is...Will I be able to
catch it and drag myself up? and if so, how long will I stay aboard the ship?
It’s not unlikely I’ll end up overboard again, but let’s not pretend that
attempting to catch and climb that lifeline doesn’t fill me with nerves. I am
nervous. Because I damn well need this.