The Unsheathed Key - Cover done and dusted!!

Finally! The cover of 'The Unsheathed Key', Book I of 'The Pages of the Blade' is finally done and dusted!
Sleepless nights and fights with my laptop aside, I am pretty happy with the result.

Here's a sneak peek...

My Dear Ol' Headphones, To Read or Not to Read, Hippo Chase

Phew! Things are hectic! Getting everything ready for my eBook is a much more daunting task than I anticipated: website, Twitter, Facebook, cover design, metadata (don't ask), having the manuscript proofread, making final changes...

Let me get my mind off it. Here are my three thinks for today:

My Dear Ol' Headphones: Listening to music with my eyes closed and my headphones planted firmly over my ears, has always been a hobby of mine that brings me instant peace. I'm not quite sure when I started doing that, but I remember building a fort in the living room when I was 10, dragging my enormous 'ghetto blaster' into it, and then falling blissfully into my own little world of Spice Girls and Kylie Minogue (oi).
Going into my teens, my headphones saved me from insanity countless times while I was in hostel. Being an only child, a bit of a loner, and generally preferring the company of Gandalf to that of squealing and gossiping fifteen-year-olds; a noisy hostel was a massive adjustment! Clutching out and allowing the music to take me somewhere far, FAR away... It kept me (mostly) sane.
At seventeen, when I met my husband-to-be, he gifted me with my first MP3 player. Oh what joy!! Now I could zone out on my seven hour bus rides every two weeks when I went home! By the time my playlist ended, there'd only be about an hour of travel left - what a blessing! I was given over to six hours (well, twelve if you counted the round trip) of pure daydreaming.
At university, the little gadgets saved me once more when I encountered one bully (for want of calling them something that would make my family blush when they read this) after the other: screaming and abusive butch girls who thought they were entitled to embarrass and harass me because I was more culturally inclined than their soccer-playing, beer-chugging selves. By switching off my light, locking the door and popping those puppies over my ears, I could ignore them.
Not to mention the next year, when I found myself living with housemates who had taken it upon themselves to try and poison everyone around them (I kid you not). During this, there was no time more peaceful or holy than when I was in studio at 5:00 in the morning, prepping to do my show as I blasted Steelheart through my 'phones (my taste in music had taken quite a turn by then). Being a radio presenter, a producer and a sound engineer granted me the privilege of wearing headphones almost constantly, without looking like too much of an idiot. Being able to escape like that - it really did save me from many a thing.
If I had to pinpoint it, I'd say that I probably learnt the habit from my dad. When I was very little, a real tjokkertjie, I remember creeping upstairs to his music room. He used to go straight up to it the minute he came home from work. There, I'd find him listening to Dire Straits and Paul Simon, eyes closed, head back.
Many years later, while sitting next to a fire and having a drink together; he related one of his war stories to me: he'd once completely ignored his commander when they'd just come out of battle in Angola. Fed-up and having lost many of his troops (he was a sergeant), he wasn't in the mood to listen to that man's opinion on anything. So he stared him in the face, took out his Walkman and pressed 'play' to listen to Bob Marley's 'Buffalo Soldier'.
Fighting on arrival. Fighting for survival.
Guess it runs in the family.

To Read, or Not to Read - If you'r a regular peruser of my blog, you would have gathered by now that I am an avid reader of pretty much all things written. Now, that's good, I guess. Except when you are trying desperately to write something yourself.

You see, my problem is that I tend to empathise a bit too much with the characters in books. While reading a story (or a magazine article) (or an ad for arthritis creams), I will quite often stop and try to put myself in that person's shoes. Whether it is the hero or the villain, the interviewer or the interviewee, the old lady or the poor photographer who had to take the shots of her; I want to fully understand them. I try to experience their emotions and envision what I would do in that situation.

This is all fine and well, but when I submerge myself like this while writing my own stuff, I tend to draw it into my own story. Not only that, but I get so consumed by what I'm reading, that I find myself thinking in that writers style! That. Is. Not. Good.

So, I've taken it upon myself to throw a mental dust sheet over my bookcase at home, to stop anything from clawing its way into my brain. Much too often I have found my character's bowels turning to water after reading George Martin; chewing the fat with old people and getting highly aggressive at the sight of graffiti after an encounter with Holden Caulfield; or getting all Helen Fielding-y and becoming v. busy and important.

Don't get me wrong, I need to read for inspiration.

But once inspired... Let's put it down, now shall we?

Hippo Chase - I work for a production company that makes wildlife documentaries. That being said, you can imagine the types of harrowing stories that fly around the office on a regular basis: camera crews stranded by seasonal floods, producers playing tug-of-war with tigers (the 'rope' actually being the talent that turned his back at just the wrong moment) and the odd snake bite or two. So, this morning, I found myself remembering my own experience from a few years ago...

When we were still dating, The Man and I went on a mini holiday to Botswana, camping as usual. Long story short; there was rain, a bit of a flood, and everything was quite miserable. On our last day there, the weather finally cleared and we decided to go for a drive in the reserve. Stopping next to a pool, hubby heard some bull frogs going mad nearby. Curious, we got out of the car and went looking for them. Heads down, our intense search consumed us completely - until we heard the distinct snort of a hippo. Very close to us.

We looked up just in time to see a massive male staring at us from across the pool, approximately 8 meters  from us. Now, in case you don't know, hippos are considered one of the most dangerous animals in Africa (both because they are incredibly aggressive and permanently in a peeved-off state).

Next moment, it came charging at us through the water. We gave each other one look, and bolted. I've never run so fast in my life. 

Now, a strange thing happens to you when you have had a number of these experiences in your life (stories for another day): everything becomes funny. By the time we got to the car, we were almost doubled over in laughter - and we didn't stop giggling until we got back to camp.

There, our mirth came to an abrupt halt: we found a baboon ransacking our tent. He ran up a tree, and continued to happily snap The Man's braai tongs at him. What an insult.

Zone out once in a while, find your own voice and ALWAYS RUN FROM HIPPOS!

The Terror of Taking Photos, Planning, Driving on a Public Holiday

Things are cooking over here! Have a look at the Book page for news...

That aside, here are my three thinks for today:

The Terror of Taking Photos - I don't do well with photos. Never have. No matter how much I pep-talk myself beforehand, psyche myself up and try to remember that my right side is my 'good' side; I ALWAYS end up looking completely alien on the photo.
Sometimes, I hardly recognise myself: no neck, fat cheeks, small eyes and flat hair (I'm painting quite the pretty picture, aren't I?). It's frustrating and incredibly annoying!
Months before our wedding, I tried practicing in the mirror so I would at least be proud of the shots that will eventually be plastered all over my, my parents', my grandparents' and my new family's walls - but to no avail. Though some can be displayed in an inconspicuous fashion, peeking out from behind other family photos in such a way that you can only just see my fringe; the rest are best left in the album (or what would be the album if I had actually had them printed). Because, you see, despite my mirror sessions, my make-up artist for that day decided that 'tan' wasn't such a good look... So by some obscene twist of fate, my perfectly natural (also a few months' worth of work) tan face became covered in a light pink foundation. So now,  in the pics, it looks as though my shockingly white face has been photoshopped onto the body of a tanned bride. Oh. My. Word.
So, with that fresh in mind, I went to have my author photos taken yesterday.
I picked a friend of mine to do the snapping, both because she is a brilliant photographer, and because she is the kind of friend who will tell you if you are looking like a total idiot.
Satisfied that I would have someone there I could trust, I (once again) planted myself in front of the bathroom mirror and tried different looks. I wasn't too happy about my modelling abilities, but decided that it will never improve and that it was time to accept it.
So, prepared for absolute failure and the inevitable "Chandler Photo Face Freeze" (Friends Season 7, Episode 5), I set off to the shoot. Well, our version of a shoot; which includes coffee, a lot of gossip and chasing kids out of the frame at the park where I was trying desperately to pull myself into a tree (long story).
Whether it was due to the relaxed surroundings, the extremely buttery croissant I had just eaten, or the breeze that flipped my hair perfectly - the photos came out GREAT! I am incredibly surprised, and very VERY HAPPY!
But all the external elements aside, I know it only worked because of my friend. Thanks so much, Landi, for taking the best photos of me that anyone has ever done. And for offering up your public holiday to traipse around a park and boost me up a tree. And then for leaving me there and laughing hysterically as I try to get down.
I really cherish our friendship.

Planning - Lists. Getting things done and checking them off. Thinking ahead. Setting up a schedule. Keeping to it. Telling everyone I am on schedule. Realising I am not. Finding more things that need to get done. Add them to lists. Read books on time-management instead of working on project. Realise mistake. Try to make up lost time by reading how to do it.

So. Many. Things.

I will get there, though. I'm sure of it. Sometimes I need the pressure to coax myself into actually doing it.

At least, that's what I like to tell myself late at night.

Driving on a Public Holiday - I live in Gauteng, South Africa. Now, if you live here or have spent some time here, you will know that people here drive like maniacs. Even the nicest, most docile person (like the friendly receptionist or the small old man that sat next to you in church) instantly turn into a swerving, beeping, fist-waving lunatic the minute they leave their driveway. 

This is due to a number of factors. Like the fact that the roads are not designed to handle so many cars. Or the fact that most of the roads are peppered with potholes large enough to swallow a Fiesta (another post on that, here). Or the fact that, in Africa, there is a general disregard of rules.

Solid white line = cross it. Red light = challenge accepted! Shoulder of road = extra lane! No road whatsoever = adventure!

Without any doubt, if you find yourself driving in Johannesburg, you will experience: a taxi cutting in front of you and then stopping dead (at least once), a person trying to sell you hangers by running alongside your car, a bus overtaking you in a residential area, and a guy in an old turquoise Polo driving horizontally across four lanes so he can stop in front of you and reset his gps. Once, I even saw a homeless guy surfing a shopping trolley down a hill and I have personally witnessed three goats waiting for the pedestrian light to turn green so they could cross the street. I kid you not.

So then, what are we crazy Gautengees to do when a public holiday rolls around?

Suddenly, there's no pressure to get anywhere and less cars on the road. Shock and awe.

People are torn between driving around aimlessly and extra slow, and speeding and beeping people out of the way. There's a sense of limbo - a parallel universe where you get somewhere on time and no-one is pushing your car over the line the second the light goes green. We go into a trance-like state and, for a day at least, peace and harmony abides. 

Weird. You almost want to start a fight for want of normalcy. 

Aim for that perfect photo at least once in your life, don't get too overwhelmed and try to keep your cool if you ever drive in Johannesburg! (I said try).

Yes, it changed again...

I know, I know... I am annoying myself at this stage.
Reason behind all these changes? I am setting up a website for my Fantasy series and I am in the process of branding.

So bear with me! All will be settled within a month. Promise.

How to Move House with a Cat, Idea-Vortex, The Plan

First of all, thanks to everyone who told me how much they like the new look of Three Thinks! Having much fun with it myself!

With that out of the way, here are my three thinks for today:

How to Move House with a Cat - Set up strategic plan of action to relocate feline ruler. Find and borrow travel box big enough - and with strong lock to keep subject from escaping through extreme display of kung fu.
Buy 'highly palatable' (according to box) dewormer so as to comply with new estate rules. Watch happily as cat scoffs it all down. Frown disappointingly when cat throws it all back up.
Buy new dewormer - tablet form. Locate cat and pet reassuringly as try to pry jaws open. Stuff tablet down throat. Find tablet spat out under bedside table. Corner cat again and vow to take no prisoners. Find tablet behind curtain and mop up blood from savaged arms and fingers. Crush tablet and dissolve in milk like scaly bartender with bad intentions. Watch happily as cat downs spiked drink.
Lock up cat in house on day of move. Freak out when cleaners let him escape. Find him under shrub and lock up in garage. Freak out when husband lets him escape. Find him near washing line and lock up in box.
Finally load up vexed cat in car. Listen with grinding teeth at his opera tenor laments all the way to the city (an hour's drive) and try to keep him from clawing leather seats through hole in box.
Unleash crazed creature in new bedroom and watch warily as he explores new surroundings. Frown in confusion when he hides under duvet and refuses to come out. For two days.
Allow him to explore garden on third day. Stick plasters on wounds after catching and putting him back in house afterward. Nearly wet yourself when scary clawed monster suddenly attacks your leg in dead of night in darkened hallway. Throw cat out window and shout after him 'I'm only looking out for you, but fine! Fend for yourself you ungrateful animal!', or something similar.
Sigh in relief next day when companion clumsily jumps back through window and nearly strangles himself on foreign burglar bars. Seems like he'll be fine.

Idea-Vortex - For some strange reason I tend to get the best ideas for my book at approximately two minutes before I fall asleep. In my drowsy state I always attempt to write them down or type them into my phone, but paralysis always sets in just as I'm reaching toward the bedside table. The next morning, I'm faced with having to go through my entire mental process of the night before in an attempt to locate my brilliant idea among the thoughts of hamburgers, purple dresses and scenes from Troy. It's painstaking, but most of the time it's worth it. Like the perfect set-up for my next chapter that will magically link the the next part of the book with the previous. Other times, however, I go through all the turmoil, thinking that a gem of an idea might be hiding somewhere in my subconscious, only to find that my midnight stroke of genius was nothing but an idiotic plan of my heroine buying an orange in town. Can't win 'em all.

The Plan - Recently (and when I say 'recently', I mean 'yesterday') I read up about something that has been intriguing me for quite some time. It's a business opportunity that, if done right, could have the potential to finally launch my career as an author. It's exciting and scary at the same time, but I really do think that I should go for it. I am giving myself a month to decide and to do my homework. I'll keep you updated!!

Dream as much as you can (whether asleep or no), give yourself the opportunity to try something new and buy a big enough travel-box (the seating in your car will be grateful).

More new things!

Like I haven't had enough already...

So you'll notice that two new pages have been added: Whatnots and The Book. On the Whatnots page you'll find random things that amuse , inspire or irk me - comment away, People of the Internet!!
The Book page will contain all the news pertaining to The Unsheathed Key - hopefully to be updated soon!

Please enjoy the new add-ons!

So many new things

Besides the fact that I have just moved to a new place (again), set up a new monthly budget and bought new scatter cushions; I have given my blog a new look too! New name, new image (given, not the one I wanted as it seems an impossible task to upload a coveted picture) and new readers (hopefully).

My blog has grown exceptionally these past few months - apparently I am doing something right. Thanks for the support and feedback!

As mentioned in a previous post, I am aiming to share much more about my writing journey here. As it tends to fill up my already clogged mind, this is the perfect place to spit out a few ideas. My basic 'three thinks' will stay the same, though - so don't go hyperventilating, OK?

By the way, if anyone can explain to me (preferably in simple words and in steps) how to upload a background image to Blogger that will not repeat - that would be great! I am not tech-savvy at best of times and all this talk of codes and whatnot on the forums has raised the same impaling dread in me that I used to feel before a maths exam...