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Like cutting concrete

What does one do on the 25th day of Nano? Cut concrete of course.

After three major floods this year, I decided I had to get an extra grate across my six-metre wide driveway to channel water away from the house. My wonderful neighbour, PJ, suggested we could do it cheaper ourselves.

I said okay.

I mean how hard can it be, right?

Doesn’t the saw do all the work? (The saw and PJ, that is!)

The answer is YES and NO. After the cutting comes cracking up the concrete, carting the concrete away and mixing fresh concrete to put back in around the grate – great! While I wasn’t writing for the six-hour marathon effort, I did think about writing – in particular the next phase of my ms – the editing.

I thought, which one is harder – cutting concrete or cutting words?

We took a perfectly good driveway, cut holes in it, smashed it with a sledgehammer and chucked out what felt like 10,000 lumps of concrete. I found this task physically exhausting, but emotionally I was fine – after all I wasn’t attached to the concrete bits, they weren’t needed anymore, they served no purpose and they had to go, or else clutter my lovely front garden.

But ask me to destroy a perfectly good ms and cut 10,000 words – words I have lovingly crafted into picturesque prose, rephrasing, restructuring and replacing over and over until it sings to me in a united and harmonious voice, I’d rather go outside and cut concrete.

It’s definitely easier.

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Remembering a time

I have a fascination with 11:11 whenever I see it on a digital clock. It’s amazing how many times I will look at the time for no real reason and there it is – 11:11.
I’m not sure when it started or why. Since I am a believer in old souls and new lives, I tend to think something significant must have happened in a former life (or if you are a Flash Forward fan at present, maybe something will happen at 11:11 in the future).
I must be thinking about this now because it’s 11/11/09 – a time to remember.
Speaking of remembering a time, I am trying to remember the time reference in relation to the dandelion – not the yellow flower, but the fairy wand, the gossamer ball stage of the plant. As kids, didn’t we used to blow on it to tell us the time or something????
Anyway, in my current novel (in my fictional town of Calingarry Crossing) I am thinking of having the characters refer to the old estate as the Dandelion House. (The old lady who once lived there made herbal treatments and dandelion tea.) Up until now I have called it Magpie House, but I fear that name sits cringe-worthy alongside crikey, g’day and where the bloody hell are you.)
While to many the dandelion is a pain in the **** weed, I remember a yellow hill of flowers when I was young (on my uncles farm in Bute, SA). It looked amazing, especially when the flower heads did a little Mexican wave in the breeze. I also think maybe the time reference (whatever it was) might fit with my story.
If anyone remembers how it worked, pls let me know.