A Dog's Eye: I've moved.

Square Pegs posts can now be found at D.A.CAIRNS AUTHOR.

Quite a long time ago, Blogger changed their interface, (or whatever you call it - sorry for my non technical knowledge/awareness), and I was displeased. The functionality I had enjoyed since beginning Square Pegs back in 2009 had been impaired and it was no longer as easy or enjoyable to use.

Two things in particular annoyed me every time I wrote and posted an article on Blogger after the 'improvements'. One, I could no longer place a photo in the text. It had to sit alone between paragraphs or...or nowhere. The second thing was I could no longer scroll through my post to check it in any way other than using the side bar. I don't use a mouse, so you can imagine how irritating this process became.

Aside from the negative changes to the Blogger interface, I had for some time wanted an official author website; not a blog, but a professional looking, hosted website with my own domain. After exploring this move myself, and finding it above my pay grade. I checked out how much it might cost to hire someone one to build website for me.As I'm still waiting to make money from my writing, I found the cost prohibitive and shelved the project until such time as...well, until such time as the cost was no longer an obstacle. 

Fast forward to roughly a month ago, with the imminent launch of my first non fiction and first self-published book, I Used to be an Animal Lover, the time was right. However, it was only right because my sister stepped in with an offer to good to refuse. What was the financial incentive? What cleared the obstacle, making a path for a long held goal of mine? A payment plan.

In the end, with assistance from my children, and content from me, my sister built me a great website and I am now there. Not here. On the site, which is well worth a visit, you will not only find Square Pegs, but also information about me and my books, including preview and purchase links, links and downloads of my work, and a selection of writing services which I offer as a freelancer.

It's time to say good bye to Blogger and hello to D.A.CAIRNS AUTHOR. Please come and visit, have a look around a sign up for Square Pegs posts, and subscriber only content, including news and giveaways.

Thanks for the memories Blogger. Thanks to all those who have read, commented, and shared, especially those hundred odd people in Poland who followed my short lived food blog, I Don't Cook. Archived articles will remain available here, but all the new content can only be found at D.A.CAIRNS AUTHOR. See you there.

A Dog's Eye: Much ado about nothing

The name of one of Shakespeare's plays. Much Ado About Nothing, entered the vernacular as an expression meaning to make a big deal about something which is either untrue or not such a big deal. The essence of it is found in two idioms.

1. to bark up the wrong tree which means to get worked up over something based on false assumption or an accepted lie. The dog starts pawing the trunk of a tree, looking up into it and barking in the belief there is something up there - a cat or some other creature which it feels compelled to attack - but it is barking at nothing, because there is nothing in that tree. Thus it is making a big fuss, much ado, about nothing.

2. To make a mountain out of a molehill means to get really upset over a small matter. To be fair, there is some element of subjectivity involved here in terms of what constitutes a mountain of an issue compared with a molehill of an issue, but the saying is used to express the idea that the person getting upset is overreacting. They are making much ado about nothing.

People say these things to other people when a. they know the truth and the receiver is acting on false information, or b. the speaker disagrees with the importance of the issue which the receiver is getting upset about it. The speaker does not feel the same way so naturally they perceive the others's expression of angst, fear, or outrage as 'over the top.'

Most people are passionate about something. Many people feel aggrieved when others don't share those passions or don't understand them. Many people support various causes and often request their friends, families and others to support those causes too. I'm growing a moustache for Movember again this year and as I usually do, I sent text messages to all my phone contacts asking for a donation. 95% of people didn't respond. A few people responded, but didn't donate. A handful of others donated, and even less people got so upset they felt the need to tell me how offended they were. In this case, I'm talking about one person in particular who suggested my cause was trivial compared to his and rambled about a lack of support for what he was doing. I knew nothing about it.

I also have a book launch coming up next week for my memoir, I Used to be an Animal Lover. It's not a cause, like Movember, because it's personal. I'm trying to sell my book and to do that I need to advertise. I've been using Facebook ads which have resulted in a massive increase in engagements on the I Used to be an Animal Lover page. What I was looking for, from those reactions, was people to sign up for Advanced Review Copies and register for the book launch. It's also great to get comments rather than just reactions. However, as with my Movember texts, the results of my advertising campaign have been predictably, but nonetheless disappointingly poor.

Zero event registrations. Zero ARC expressions of interest and only two comments on the most recently sponsored post. You can see the comments below, but essentially the only two people who took the time to comment were very upset about my ad appearing in their news feed. 

Here's my philosophy about all this in a nutshell.

1. If you don't appreciate something, or can't see any value in it, then ignore it.

2. Never expect people to care about your passions and causes as much as you do.

3. Be prepared to cop criticism or even abuse from those who don't follow number 2.

4. Life is too short to making much ado about nothing.

A Dog's Eye: It's not just a lawnmower, mate.

Once upon a time I bought a house and the purchase of that house necessitated many other purchases. A great number of those purchases related to home maintenance which is not a thing when you're renting an apartment. Not only is there no lawn to mow, but any repairs which may be required are the responsibility of the owner of the property - for better or worse. (Unfortunately many renters find agents and landlords to be very diligent when they want you to sign a lease, but significantly less so when the tenancy begins.)

There are many benefits to home ownership, but there are also increased costs and, let's call them burdens, but overlook the negative connotations of that word. I bought my first house twenty years ago. My ex wife owns and lives in that house now, and since our separation I have lived quite a transient life. I'm the guy who needs extra pages for all his previous addresses on mandatory police checks for employment purposes. Before I moved to Darwin five years ago, I racked up five different addresses in about eighteen months. During my time in the Top End, I had six permanent addresses, and for the eighteen month period in which I was a house sitter, I slept in nearly forty different beds.

photo source

In all that time, six years now, I bought two lawnmowers. One, a brand new electric model and the other, five years after I got rid of the electric one because I didn't have a lawn to mow, was a second hand mower which I pushed around the yard in the tropical heat until it spat the dummy. The engine seized a couple of weeks before we moved from Darwin back to the Illawarra.

Since our return, we're already on our third address. This time, I'm hoping and praying that we can stay for at least two years or more, even until we are ready, God willing, to look at buying a home of our own. So keen am I to put down roots, I have come to see the lawnmower as a metaphor for commitment.

The house in which we are now living, and as I said, hopefully not leaving for some time, has a sizeable yard. Had we been more financial at this time, I might have considered paying someone to come and cut the grass. Firstly, to avoid having to do it myself, and secondly to avoid having to buy a lawnmower. Now don't get me wrong, I like lawnmowers and I like using them. Cutting the grass is one of those necessary chores which gives you exercise and an immediate sense of satisfaction once the job is done. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I can think of many other things I would rather do.

I have a philosophy that getting older (I'm talking about the second half of life - post midlife crisis) is about reducing the 'have to' components. Many of them can be removed with a theoretically simple change of attitude, but others are about making wise choices. Choices aren't only facilitated by money, but whether or not you can afford to do something, or go somewhere, or hire someone to do something for you, is certainly impacted by your financial circumstances.

I tell you, if I was on a six figure income, I would pay someone to clean the house and cut the grass. However, limited money means limited choices.

So, I must cut my own grass which is certainly not the end of the world. Having made that decision, I then needed to purchase a lawn mower. I could have gone second hand again, but aligning with the 'lawnmower means commitment' metaphor, I knew a second hand mower wouldn't last as long as new one. It would also be louder, dirtier, and harder to use. I decided to show that I was in for the long run by buying a new lawnmower. The problem was, I still had a tight budget. After a brief search online for mowers I could buy at bricks and mortar stores, I was not happy with the prices, so I turned to old mate Amazon.

                                                                      Giantz 4 stroke lawnmower on Amazon

To cut a long story short, I spent a total of just under $300 for a no name brand mower built in Taiwan, where I'm pretty sure there aren't many lawns, and a jerry can, funnel, and a bottle of oil. In just over a week a big box from Amazon arrived at my door and three days later I unpacked and assembled my new toy.

It's beautiful looking machine, was easy to put together, easy to start, easy to use, it's quiet, and it did a great job. Although I was hot, sweaty, and in pain from a pulled buttock muscle, I gazed upon the finished lawn and smiled. I'll do that every time I cut the grass, even though some days will be much hotter, and I won't feel like it when I start.

I bought a new lawnmower, but it's much more than just a machine to cut a grass. It's a metaphor for commitment. I'm all in. A long term determination to make a 'have to' task, a joyful one and one for which I forego complaining to express gratitude.

Snake Oil: Filthy Rich Writer

Right off the bat, I have to say I am not a fan of the expression 'filthy rich' because it suggests that riches are dirty. That being rich is a bad thing. Wealth is a tool, and tools can be used for good or bad purposes. Generally speaking, I think wealth is good and I suspect it would be a losing and futile search for me to find anyone to disagree.

My post today is inspired by an ad which appeared in my Facebook Newsfeed. (I'm aware of the contradiction. A slightly oxymoronic use of ad and news together.) The headline of the ad is 'Filthy Rich Writer' and it's an invitation for people with spare time on their hands, stuck at home due to COVID lockdowns or some other reason, to write content for websites and make a lot of money.

Snake Oil.

If you've written anything, then you know why this ad is obviously false. It's especially false for ghostwriters, who can make money, but rarely heaps of it.

Since losing my job as Lead Teacher with a not for profit Registered Training Organization, I have been concentrating on establishing a new career as a freelance writer. With six novels, and scores of published short stories under my belt, I'm not a novice writer, but as a freelancer, I'm starting from scratch. Freelancers mostly ghostwrite articles, stories and books for their clients. Most of these clients seem to be 'middle men' who sell content written by others to their own clients. Pay rates range from around half a cent per word up to 2 cents per word. So, a 1000 word article at half a cent per word pays $5. Do you know how long it takes to write a 1000 word article on a subject with which you are unfamiliar? Even at two cents per word, you're talking about an hourly pay rate of about $15. Filthy rich? (writer chokes on a mouthful of tea).

For my next post, I'm gong to write about the two platforms that I currently use to find freelance work. Upwork and Freelancer. My experience with these two has been mixed. I'm getting work, but I'm missing out on a lot of jobs as well. Why? I have no idea, but I suspect it comes down to money. Doesn't everything, come down to money in the end.

Platforms like Freelancer, Upwork and Fiverr are not charities. They are businesses. The primary aim of most businesses is to make money, not to help people. Not to make other people rich, but to make themselves rich.

No one who bought and read the book Three Easy Steps to Unimaginable Wealth got rich. You know who got rich? The author of the book did, because he preyed on people's laziness and greed, making ridiculous promises about how easy it is to get rich, in order to make money for himself.

Wise writers, who've been around for a while, know that 90% of services offered to writers to help them write and sell books, are, in fact, only designed to make money for those providing the services. That guy on Fiverr, who's a book marketing genius, makes extravagant promises about how many people will find out about your book. You pay your $20, which covers hidden costs only added in after you're committed, and get nothing but a screenshot of an anonymous Twitter account which mentions the title of your book but doesn't have a purchase link.

Less than one percent of writers get rich, and they don't even have to be good writers to do it. Lots of good writers do earn a reasonable living though, and I aim to be one of them. I love writing, and am enjoying the challenge of a being a freelancer which offers many opportunities to write in genres apart from those with which I am comfortable. It's stretching me, improving my skills, but I'm not going to get rich.

Honestly, a think the ambition to get rich is unworthy of humanity. If riches come, thank God. If they don't, thank God. It's not my goal to get rich. Of course I want to earn a good living and consequently have a degree of financial freedom, but wealth is not the goal. My goal is to connect with people and to make a positive contribution to the world. 

I reckon if you make love your goal, you will always be richly rewarded.

relationDips: triple cheese spicy vegorama

With apologies to Dominos, whose pizzas I enjoy periodically, I present the histories of vegetarianism, pizza and vegetarian pizzas. I will then explain how all three are intricately connected with, and reflected in, our relationships.

It seems the earliest record of vegetarianism, which is the choice to not eat meat, is in the writings of ancient India. Unless you read another article which says it was Pythagoras, the great Greek mathematician; he of the famous theorem we all studied in high school. It does seem clear though from the Biblical record that Adam and Eve were vegetarians. Next level vegetarianism is veganism, under which philosophy, practitioners do not eat or use animal products.  The term veganism is a 20th century construct, but this extreme form of vegetarianism, appears to have originated around the same time, in the same cultures. 

Of course in Western societies, with their focus on the individual, vegetarianism has mostly been a choice; either a health choice or an ethical choice, or both. In eastern cultures, so bound with the religious beliefs of Hinduism and its offspring, Buddhism, and very much collectivist societies, such choices have not been, and are still not available.

Pizza was also born in ancient times, although the first use of the word only dates back to first century Gaeta, now contained in the modern nation state of Italy. While ancient Egyptians, Romans and Greeks ate various flatbreads with toppings, the pizza, as we know it today is said to have been created in Naples, in the late 18th century. 

You can travel to almost any country in the world and find some version of pizza, including vegetarian pizzas like one of my favourites, that I mentioned in the title of this post. However, it is only recently, over the last 10-15 years, that major western pizza chains like Pizza Hut and Dominos have begun offering vegetarian pizzas.

Also dating back to ancient, even pre-historic times, are relationships, and it is here that I wish to sharpen the reader's focus.

The issue of eating animal products, or not, can be an issue in relationships, but it generally isn't. Of all the problems and disagreements a couple will face, food has rarely directly caused a relationship breakdown. Eating maybe, but not food itself.

Perhaps because it is so vital, the question of what is eaten by who and where and when, seems to be an aspect of relationships in which compromise is relatively easy. As part of her Catholic practice, my wife chooses not to eat meat on Fridays. Although this prohibition is not a part of my religious practice, it has been an easy thing for me to simply not eat meat on Fridays. It's a simple way for me to demonstrate respect for her. She doesn't eat chicken because she doesn't like it, but she cooks it for the rest of the family, because we do.

If vegetarianism was a big deal for a particular person, it would certainly come up in the early stages of a relationship, and be dealt with. Post marriage or post relationship commencement vegetarianism might present more of a challenge, but as I said, it is highly unlikely to destroy the relationship.

What can we learn from all this? Pizza is good, choice is good, and compromise is not only good, but is also an indispensable ingredient for healthy relationships. Meat, on the other hand, is not an indispensable ingredient for a great tasting pizza.

A Dog's Eye: Letterbox Bomb

I need to confess, right off the bat, that I only used the word 'bomb' to grab your attention. Although I do have experience with letterbox bombs during my wayward and rebellious teenage years, I actually want to share with you some reflections arising from letterbox drops. I'm not sure if that's the official name for what I was doing for four hours this morning, but that's what we'll go with.

If you've spent time walking around delivery advertising materials to people's letterboxes, or, as in my case today, addressed mail from the local member of parliament, or if you've worked as a postie, then the following observations will certainly ring a bell. If not, then perhaps it will give you some insight into the trickiness of what would appear to be a very straightforward task.

Here are the three major problems which arise during a letterbox drop.

1. Corner blocks. If I told you that three adjacent houses on one street could be numbered 14, 65 & 9 you might be surprised unless you live in a house so numbered. When I arrived at a house on a corner, I had to figure out which street it belonged to. The letters in my hand were all personally addressed and in order, so the confusion caused by houses on corners resulted in quite a bit of extra investigative walking and backtracking. Adding to my befuddlement this morning was my uncertainty about which street I was in and where that street started and ended. You know any street called a Circuit is going to present some challenges. I was literally going aorund in circles.

1. Letterboxes. A few houses had no letterbox at all which sent a very clear message. Many letterboxes contained the warning not to insert advertising material which is something I always respect. Today's letter box drop was important information, not advertising. Most letterboxes were welcoming, at least superficially. I consider the ultimate invitation to be an appropriately sized open slot. However, such accommodation is not so common, especially with modern homes. Most of the houses I delivered to were built relatively recently and the letterboxes, like the homes behind them, are quite stylish. Good looking they may be, but user friendly they are not: the majority were not easy to access. The main problem was the covered slot which unless you have a thick letter or a wad of letters can't be pushed open by paper. You need to use two hands, and as my left hand was full of folded letters, this proved quite awkward. Many other boxes had a flap which needed to be lifted to reveal the slot which was also tricky. Letterboxes hidden behind frontyard shrubbery or positioned at ground level also negatively impacted efficient delivery. Despite these difficulties, I can happily report only spilling my lollies once.

1. Dogs. The burbs should be and generally are very quiet and peaceful. With only local traffic and most people either out or settled comfortably within the air conditioned walls of their modern homes, the hot air is silent apart from bird song and the occasional waft of music or conversation. It's quiet, that is, until you walk past and the dog goes off. Darwin has the highest per capita dog ownership of any Australian city or town. The dogs in Darwin are all contained behind fences. I'm not frightened of dogs and felt no threat from even the larger and more vicious looking beasts. They couldn't have got me even if they wanted to, so I felt safe. There was one exception: a scary little Daschund escaped its domestic confines, yapped growled at me, chasing me down the street for a few metres until it was satisfied I wasn't going to invade it's property. Most of the dogs will do that. They'll just bark at you until you have passed their territory. The problem is one dog barking sets off all of the other dogs, and not all of these vociferous canines know how to control themselves.

Despite these challenges, the irritating noise of barking dogs, and the heat, I enjoyed my work/walk. I said G'day to a few people, chatted with one lady about the crazy numbering, admired the well manicured gardens, appreciated the sleek architecture of the houses and I prayed for the names on the letters, for the people who live in those homes. I prayed for them, although I don't know them and will probably never meet them. I thanked God for the work and for the exercise.

relationDips: Crabs

It may be hard to fathom at the outset how a post about relationships would involve crabs other than the obvious allusion to sexually transmitted parasites, aka pubic lice. Let's therefore have a close inspection of the crab as one of God's creatures.

Crabs are decapod (10 limbs) crustaceans of the infraorder Brachyura. Found in all the world's oceans, in freshwater and on land, they are generally covered in a thick exoskeleton and range in size from the Pea Crab (just a few millimetres wide) to the Japanese Spider Crab which has a leg span of up to 4m-yes, I said four metres. There are 850 species of crab worldwide. They walk sideways because of the articulation of their legs, use very complex communication systems and are sexually dimorphic. I love sexual dimorphicism. Humans likewise display obvious physical differences between the two undisputed genders. Calm down. I'm not here to debate that issue. I'm talking about crabs.

Pubic lice are small, flat light brown parasites that cling to pubic hair and suck blood for nourishment. It goes without saying that if you have sex with someone who has these crabs, you will get them. It goes without saying that if you only have one partner who also only has you, and the two of you practice normal hygiene, pubic lice won't be a problem for you. Relax. I'm not here to sermonize about sexual immorality. I'm talking about crabs.

My wife loves seafood so the other day while shopping at Mr Barra she had to have one of the live mud crabs they were selling. I think crabs are more trouble than they are worth. They have so little meat on them, and it's so difficult and time consuming to extract it that I can't see the point. Furthermore, the price was alarming: $65 per kilo. I said nothing as my wife chose her crab, then finished her seafood purchases. I said nothing when said purchases totalled quite a sum of money. I just paid because she works hard, she likes crabs and I thought she deserved a treat. She was thrilled; both by my silence and on the appearance of my card to pay.

Crabs can be quite aggressive and are considered to be ill humoured and selfish creatures. Hence someone with a negative and selfish attitude is said to have a crab mentality. We also describe someone who is angry or even grumpy as being crabby.

What conclusions can be drawn from all this information? Certain crabs are good for relationships while others are not. Most sane people would eschew all contact with pubic lice. Many people of varying degrees of sanity like to eat the feisty crustaceans. We may not admire much about their behaviour, but here's the take home lesson: don't get crabs (pubic lice), don't be a crab, and be willing to overcome your negativity about eating crabs if it proves to be a blessing to your partner.

Finally and most importantly, good relationships do take a lot of hard work, but unlike eating, crabs the effort is absolutely worth it.

The Mirror: The Way of all Flesh

You've probably heard the expression 'gone the way of all flesh' meaning that someone has died. However, you may not know that this expression comes from the Old Testament. Check out Joshua 22:14 and 1 Kings 2:2 which say, depending on the translation, 'go the way of all the earth' or 'go the way of all flesh.' I did not know this until I researched it for this post, but I'm not surprised, as many common sayings are either bible quotes or bastardizations of them.

The title of Samuel Butler's classic semi autobiographical novel, The Way of all Flesh, is then a most appropriate title because the protagonist is a clergyman. Written by Butler between 1873 and 1884, the novel is an attack on Victorian era hypocrisy.

Classic novels may not be your thing, and I suspect it's probably because of the writing style. Being lexically dense, with old fashioned words and extremely long and complex sentences doesn't always facilitate easy reading, but I love this stuff. The themes explored by Butler in The Way of all Flesh: hypocrisy, religion, faith, atheism, nature versus nurture and family dynamics may well be oft explored ideas, but the classics have a precision and depth in their language use which is, although not rare in modern novels, certainly different. We should remember classical writers were not competing with nor were they influenced by film and television. In any case, the skill of the writer in dealing with universal themes to which everyone can relate, is to challenge the view of the reader; to make them think.

I've been posting quotes from The Way of all Flesh regularly on Facebook, since I began reading it. When I read something and I have stop, and re read it, and contemplate it, allowing it to filter through my worldview, I know I am reading quality and inspired writing. The quote I want to share in this post is one I found particularly pertinent as I am currently facilitating the journey of another group of men through the Valiant Man sexual discipleship program. This quote contains information about the main character which may be considered a 'spoiler'.

"Although in the healthy atmosphere of such a school as Roughborough you can have come across contaminating influences; you were probably, I may say certainly, impressed at school with the heinousness of any attempt to depart from the strictest chastity until such time as you had entered into a state of matrimony. At Cambridge you were shielded from impurity by every obstacle which virtuous and vigilant authorities could devise, and even had the obstacles been fewer, your parents probably took care that your means should not admit of your throwing money away upon abandoned characters. At night proctors patrolled the street and dogged your steps if you tried to go into any haunt where the presence of vice was suspected. By day the females who were admitted within the college walls were selected mainly on the score of age and ugliness. It is hard to see what more can be done for any young man than this. 

For the last four or five months you have been a clergyman, and if a single impure thought had still remained within your mind, ordination should have removed it: nevertheless, not only does it appear that your mind is as impure as though none of the influences to which I have referred had been brought to bear upon it, but it seems as though their only result had been this-that you have not even the common sense to be able to distinguish between a respectable girl and a prostitute."

What I like about this quote is that it very accurately displays the ignorance and arrogance of men regarding sexuality. Good men get into trouble when they forget they are men. Most men are good at being providers for and defenders of their loved ones, but we are also good at ignoring danger and pandering to our weaknesses and addictions. It never ends well for the man who cannot control his sex drive.

A Dog's Eye: Publicity at Pee Wee's

"As Mark settled himself at a table inside Peewee’s at the Point, he gazed out through the window across Fannie Bay to Darwin city. He sighed with contentment as he soaked up the exclusive ambience of one of Australia’s top restaurants. His contentment was devoured by the anxiety he felt about the salience of the occasion, and his bewilderment. What was he doing here? Less than a week ago, he had been dining with Lisa at The Jade Palace. This was a significant leap up the social ladder, and the company, although not as attractive as Lisa was bound to be intoxicating. He ordered a James Squire Sundown Lager, and a Puglises sourdough with wattleseed butter and bush tomato relish for an appetizer."

These words were penned some time in 2012 and later published in chapter 22 of my third novel, Ashmore Grief. The year of publication was 2013. I had never been to Darwin, nor did I imagine for a second that I ever would. Mostly set in Darwin, the novel was researched on the world wide web. The restaurant featured above, Pee Wee's at the Point, is one of Australia's top restaurants. I chose it as the setting for the important meeting in the narrative because of its prestige. I sent a copy of Ashmore Grief to the restaurant manager, as well as to television and radio personalities who I reasoned might be interested in this topical novel, and perhaps give it some much needed publicity. Despite the issue of asylum seekers entering Australia being a hot topic in 2013, and some favourable press, Ashmore Grief seemed destined for obscurity. 

In 2016, I moved to Darwin to take up a new job and a commence a new chapter of my life. I never made it to Pee Wee's though, because it never seemed like the right time, and I didn't have the budget for it. (It actually isn't as expensive as imagined). It remained a dream of mine for many years: something I would do when the time was right and I had the right people with whom to celebrate.

Last Thursday night, I finally dined at Pee Wee's at the Point, with my wife, two younger children and my mum who paid for the meal. Mum is her on her fourth visit to Darwin, and said on this occasion that she would like to take us out for a special dinner. I suggested Pee Wee's and the rest is now history.

The restaurant's service was exceptional and the food outstanding. I felt extremely relaxed and happy; it was quite dreamlike. 

My plan was to take a copy of the book to the restaurant and take a few photos. Mum suggested I ask to see the manager, to tell them about my visit and the connection between Ashmore Grief and Pee Wee's at the Point. I went one further by reading the excerpt above to the manager who was quite happy with that. She requested a signed copy which I dropped off to her a couple of days later. At that time she requested a photo with me and the book.

The total experience was mystical and wonderful, and whether it leads to anything or not, I will always treasure it. The new dream about me and Pee Wee's involves an elaborate launch of my 8th novel, Satan's Choppers (set again in the Top End.). I haven't even started writing the first draft yet, so that one is a way off. However, my first Pee Wee's dream took 7 years, and I'm a patient man, so stay tuned.

The Mirror: Instant Drop in Standards

 Back in 1984, my 15 year old friends and I went to see a film which legally we weren't supposed to be able to see. I was able to buy alcohol as well around that time thanks to looking older than I was, and the slackness of those who sold the grog. I live in Australia's Northern Territory and I need to show my ID every time I buy alcohol at a bottle shop. I'm pretty sure I look over eighteen now, but we have a banned drinkers register up here, so no ID, no booze. Late in '84, I'm pretty sure the person who sold me movie tickets to Scarface (rated R) didn't even look at me to see whether I was old enough, and they certainly didn't ask.

How did I feel about seeing a film with sex, nudity, very frequent coarse language, graphic violence, gore, and intense and frightening scenes? Let me just say, there's a reason such content is restricted to adults.

That was 36 years ago. Thirty six years. In the 1980's you never heard swear words on TV. There was no PG rating, but they had one called NRC (not recommended for children under 12), so films with a rating lower than M would generally have been considered okay for older children. There would not have been any course language or strong violence and certainly no nudity or sex, not even suggested or implied sex. TV was also very safe during prime time, generally speaking.

Of course, it's possible, I'm viewing the past through rose-coloured glasses, but I feel like there was a lot of safe, harmless viewing for children, even as recently as the late nineties and early 2000's when my older children were growing up.

I would have bet my life on a PG film being safe for my two younger children, now aged fourteen and eleven respectively. In fact, I tell them when it's their turn to choose, that anything PG is okay for us on family movie night. There's been a not of a blurring, a lowering of standards in my view, but it's been such a slow fade I wouldn't be able to pinpoint when it happened. At what point did someone say it was now okay to use the word "shit" multiple times throughout a PG rated film? When did nudity and strong sexual allusions become okay? Realistic violence? Did I miss something? There's no other way to describe it other than as a slow fade.

What brought this all to a head for me was last week's family movie. I'd previously considered this one, but baulked and, in it's place selected the pathetic Jack and the Beanstalk which I wrote about in a previous post. I hesitated and chose another film instead of Instant Family because of the advisory warning. These are good. These advisory warnings because they add detail to the rating. Okay, it's PG but why? What is it exactly that makes this family film not for general exhibition. Instant Family actually rated M today, but I swear it was PG on Saturday. Anyway, it's rated M with a content advisory saying its suitable for children aged 13 and over...which is what I thought PG was.

My point remains though, albeit minus my star attraction in the witness box. There are PG films with mild sex scenes, coarse language and medium level violence listed on Amazon Prime's ratings list. I reckon PG is no sex, no coarse language, and mild comedic violence only. But I'm swimming against the tide, I know that. When parents take their children to the cinemas to see M rated films, and they say that's okay because they are superhero films.

I admit to being conservative which may lead me to the continuation of this tiresome belly-ache. Rather than making clearer my already completely transparent views, I'll turn my attention to the film which started it all. It's ironic that it appears to have been my mistake which led me to having to try to explain 'dick pic' to my eleven year daughter. I chose an M rated film which contained frequent uses of 'shit'. And there were some fairly intense dramatic scenes and violence. You can see why I was shocked. And you can probably also see why I'm a little sheepish about my protest. Protest? Let's be honest, it was a rant; a baseless rant, (but not entirely baseless).

I'll be more careful next time.

Instant Family, by the way, is a terrific film. A highly recommended heart warmer.

A Dog's Eye: Centimetering closer

It's not even a word, you know. Centimetering. And to make it a word, I have to use the US spelling of metre which is meter, otherwise it reads as metring. This doesn't seem important. In fact, it seems I might be writing a blog post for the sake of it; without any real propulsion via innovative thought. That might be the case. I can certainly see how it might be perceived that way, but perhaps I'm trying to say something really profound. I usually do. At least I usually try to be thought provoking.

Okay, it's time to drop the pretense. On this occasion, I really don't have anything to say, so I'm using a writing technique which has always existed, but more recently become known as pantsing. Many of you will recall that in your school days pantsing was the act of pulling down another person's pants in order to embarrass them. Nowadays, this is considered sexual harassment. Pantsing in writing is the act, someone would say the 'art' of writing with no fixed plot or resolution in mind. In this context, the term itself was born from the expression to fly by the seat of your pants. Whether, I'm working a novel, a short story or a blog post, I don't usually pants it. However, on this occasion I am, but let me explain how I am going to tie these loose threads together.

There are times when life appears to move forward gently and uneventfully. This movement may be rapid, but it won't be perceived that way. There'll be no sense of the frantic, chaotic, full of surprises type of adventure. Things will seem relatively peaceful, not dull or devoid of activity, but steady and manageable. In my experience, it's not typical for life to meander. In my in between period, while I was waiting for my wife to be given permission to move to Australia, I was far less busy than I am now, but life still moved along quite steadily. I had less to do, and more time to do it. I wasn't necessarily anymore or less relaxed or peaceful. She and the children have been here for nine months now. Just like that. Life is much busier and time appears to be moving quickly, but not more or less quickly than it was before.

"Tempus fugit when you're having fun" is merely a matter of perception. If you concentrate, you can slow down and enjoy what might ordinarily be a blip on the radar of time. You can advance towards the future at a more comfortable and leisurely pace. When something progresses slowly, incrementally we say it inches forward. The problem with that saying is that it's a bit of an anachronism because we've been using the metric system in Australia since 1966.

So, I'll say life is centimetering forward because I choose it to do so. I don't wish away every moment of drudgery so I can get to the next thrill. I don't start work on Monday, gloomy, then proclaim the joy of Friday. Even when I am sick, as I am now, I'm careful not to wish the time away.

Time is one of the many areas impacting on our lives over which we have limited control. I can't create more of it. I have as much of it as I have which is the same as everyone: twenty four hours a day, seven days a week etc. I can make some things happen faster. For example, I can set my alarm and wake up earlier, then brush my teeth faster, but I haven't created more time, I've simply created more space within the time I have to do something else. My attitude can also affect the perceived passage of time.

Scorpion's Breath will be released in December. I'm slowly working on the sequel, The Sorcerer's Tusk. I had to shelve plans to publish I Used to be an Animal Lover which I thought, and still think is a great idea, but nobody else did and without any money, I can't proceed with self publishing. I've been waiting over 20 years now to make it as an author, but I'm still wandering around in the forest of obscurity. You might say my writing career is centimetering forward, but you might just as easily suggest to say so would be an exaggeration.

There you go, seven hundred and thirty eight words written by the seat of my pants. I hope you don't feel that reading them was a waste of your time.

The Mirror: Indifferent Beanstalks

Here's a quote from someone who I directed to check out one of my books: "I just read the blurb and it filled me with indifference."

Here's a quote from me after discovering a movie which I thought might be a suitable choice for our family movie last Saturday. "I just read the blurb and it filled me with indifference."

One of the above quotes is genuine, the other is an attempt at humourous mimicry.

I watched Jack and the Beanstalk (2009) in spite of my better judgement; a little voice whispering against choosing it. I heard words like 'been done before', 'no A grade cast members' and 'little chance of this being even good let alone great.' Yet, I watched it and to be fair, it had some good moments. Sadly, it had a lot more bad moments, mostly relating to the writing which was so hit and miss it instigated a bout of motion sickness. Christopher Lloyd and Chevy Chase were in the supporting cast but only because they needed some cash and were between real jobs. There was an overall pall of amateurishness.

That last sentence possibly helps explain why I didn't like Jack and the Beanstalk. It also offers a potentially valid reason why the man who read the blurb for my best novel to date (in my opinion), had the temerity to be honest about his level of interest in reading it. Although he started off saying he didn't like reading romance in any form, I was ridiculously overconfident about the power of Love Sick Love's blurb-did I mention it is without doubt my best literary work so far?

What is of most interest here, as I wind my way with painful sloth towards the point of this post, is that I ignored my indifference and watched the film. I decided to give it a crack. My Twitter mate was not willing to go there, and as someone I know often likes to say, that is the problem.

In my endeavour to sell my work, I have a lot of competition. What is my point of difference? How do I raise my voice above the noise of the crowd? How do I stand out on the canvas of life? Even having a quality product does not ensure success. The cream does not always rise to the top.

I suspect most people aren't like me. They will judge a book by its cover and not read it, or if the cover works and carries them to the back of the book where lies the blurb, they may still pull out of the deal if said blurb leaves them feeling indifferent. Furthermore, if they buy or borrow the book there is no guarantee they will finish it. Finally, once they've read the book they won't write a review. They may not even tell anyone about it unless it was outstanding.

Since joining Goodreads six or seven years ago, I've read and reviewed 326 books. On only five occasions have I decided to give up and not finish a book I had started. I review every book I finish reading. I ask people who finish reading my books to review them, but very few do. Even when it was a condition of several giveaways which I have run on Goodreads, people still don't review. I'd settle for mediocre or even bad reviews if only people would talk about my books.

If only every one was like me. I make connections with authors on Twitter and buy their books, then review them. I've done that on a number of occasions, hoping for reciprocation, or at least a thank you...hoping in vain. I share people's posts, help promote their businesses and their causes. For many of my friends on Facebook, it's one way traffic. I must be mad to expect so much of people.

There's too much to do, too much to know, too much to share, too many books, too many movies and TV shows, too many variations of the same product on our supermarket shelves. There are too many re makes, too much re branding, too little innovation. If I gave you three magic beans in change for your cow what would you do with those beans. There just aren't enough Jacks in this world. Most of us are too comfortable with what we have, and either too lazy or too scared to try new things. Indifference. Apathy. Let's plant those beans and ride that towering beanstalk to the great unknown. Read a book by an author you've never heard of. Write a book review and post it on Amazon. Support a cause just because someone asks you too.

Snake Oil: Two monumental lies

I believed two lies which informed my life practice for decades, underpinning every decision I made. I learned these things indirectly, by observation and experience, and in the case of one of them, I was so deceived that I didn't even realize I was enslaved to a false and harmful philosophy. Both parsimony and lasciviousness ruled me as secret tyrants.

While these powerful, yet hidden lessons controlled me, I proclaimed my normalcy. It is not an unusual thing for a man to be careful with money, especially if he has a family to support. Saying no is a crucial sign of strength. It is also quite normal for a man to be frequently having inappropriate thoughts of a sexual nature, and even acting out these thoughts in some way. Saying yes is a crucial sign of strength. I learned these things from my father.

1. A man is not generous. He is stingy and controlling.
2. A woman is a thing for a man's pleasure. In sexual matters, a man does not deny himself, and women should accept that.

To be fair, Dad improved with age. he mellowed and became a better man. When he died, I lost one of my best friends. I still miss him and the great friendship we built over my lifetime, through many challenges. But dad taught me to be mean with money and to objectify women. 

I believe I was in my forties when I read this verse in the Bible: "One gives freely, yet grows all the richer, another withholds what he should give and only suffers want." (Proverbs 11:24)  I had considered myself a good steward of money, prudent and sensible, but upon reading this verse God told me I was stingy. I have been working on becoming more generous ever since.

In 2015 with my marriage over, partially as a result of infidelity on my part, I was sitting in church when an ad popped up on the big screen during the announcements segment. Upon hearing that this course, called Valiant Man, was about sexual discipleship, I felt God wanted me to do it. The course switched the lights on, exposing my slavery to the god of sex, and ever since I have been working on becoming a better man, a purer man, an honorable man who respects women.

One of the things I learned in the course was the value of emotional honesty and humility. Recognizing my behaviour in the arenas of 
money and sex, I had to admit I was a long way short of where I wanted to be. I wanted to understand myself and I wanted to change. I wanted, and I still want truth to change me.

In the individualistic and hyper-eroticized West, money and sex have become weaponized commodities. The great lie is that this is okay. This is the lie I believed most of my life because my father lived it out in front of me. I swallowed the snake oil, but I didn't know any better, nor did he. Now I've spat it out and rejected the lie.

A Dog's Eye: Bibliophilia

Ironically, I was talking about books with too many unknown words being hard to read and therefore
not being read. In other words, some readers pick them up because they're interested in the cover, the title or maybe the blurb. Unfortunately, they usually don't continue reading for very long if they find it too hard. Lexical density is one issue, but a preponderance of complex sentences and grammatical variations used by the author for stylistic purposes can also contribute to such a book being put down by some readers. (for example: the sentence you just read.)

I've advised people, specifically non-native speakers of English and children, not to read books which are too hard in this sense. I said it was ironic because I write such books. If you are unfamiliar with my work, I mostly write neo-classical contemporary literary fiction. Damn! I did it again. What is neo-classical contemporary fiction? The answer to that question is not important.* I've made my point sufficiently well in these first two paragraphs to change tact.

This change of tact (or is it tack?) is made possible because I can write. I can change literary gears as easily as breathing. I can choose common words just as easily as rare ones. I can write simple, compound or complex sentences, and blend them perfectly. I can choose formal or informal language, I can say the same thing in a number of different ways, and I'm wickedly adept at metaphor. This isn't boasting. I'm not blowing my own trumpet. Most writers can do exactly what I do and many can do it way better than me.

Anyway, this post was intended to be a long overdue update on my writing. Love Sick Love was published in 2017. In my mind it stands head and shoulders above all my other novels, but a new book is overdue. I always intended to release a book a year; one every two years at most. I'm happy to report the wait is nearly over. Scorpion's Breath is scheduled for release by Rogue Phoenix Press in December. It is the first book in a planned trilogy called the Callumron series. Book Two, titled The Sorcerer's Tusk, is under construction and will hopefully be released next year; to be followed in 2022 by Book Three: Satan's Choppers. At some point over the next couple of years I will begin work on the first draft of my most ambitious novel to date. I love historical fiction, but I've never written an historical fiction novel, so I'm going to do it. The working title for this book, which will be set on the Australian Goldfields during the rush of the early to mid 1850's, is Holy Ground.

In the meantime, during my house sitting days, I wrote a non fiction manuscript called I Used to be an Animal Lover which has the awesome subtitle: a superficial and unscientific zoological memoir. Sadly, I haven't been able to find a publisher for this manuscript. I suspect it is due to the original presentation which was a 100K word multi genre experiment. Feedback from beta readers and editors who have provided sample edits for me in the hopes of securing the gig, suggest it doesn't work in that format. I Used to be an Animal Lover version 2 is now two books. One a memoir and the other an anthology of short fiction. I have enough information and confidence to do what I said I never would. I have just about lined up all my ducks; editor, cover artist and book producer. I'm almost ready to self publish.

There's just one problem. I don't have any money.

However, this is only a problem of perspective. If I don't have the money to publish I Used to be an Animal Lover now, then so be it. If I am never able to do it, so be it. I'll keep writing, and whether I can publish or get published, or once published sell any books, it's okay. It's not the end of the world. I feel okay. I feel safe, and I feel content enough to not be driven mad by the inevitable frustration which results for people who want everything they want...and right now please. Patience is a fruit of the Holy Spirit. I'm finding the more I relax inside God's providence, the less I struggle and the more I accept what I cannot change, the more peaceful I feel, and the more patient I become.

Lastly, I recently sold my short story, A Place of Refuge, for the fourth time. Guess what I did with the money I earned? I bought some books, and some clothes-but who cares about clothes? The books I purchased have been on my Goodreads 'to read' list for quite some time, so I'm very much looking forward to reading them, reviewing them and replacing them on the list with new books of interest.

Where would I be without reading and writing? In a darker, less interesting, less inspiring place where ignorance usurps enlightenment. A place where imagination, creativity, knowledge and wisdom are buried beneath mediocrity, apathy and blindness. A place such as described by Bradbury in his famous 1953 dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451 in which bibilophilia is considered a disease. The owning and reading of books is a threat to society, resulting in the seizure and burning of books .

Thankfully, I don't live in such a place. I am free to enjoy reading and writing whatever I want, whenever I want. Thank God for that. What are you reading or writing? What would you like to read or write?

A Dog's Eye: The Good People

Jack Johnson sat on a beach (presumably), strummed his guitar, while singing Good People and asking where they'd all gone. In Terry Pratchett's Guards! Guards! the Patrician, speaking to Sergeant Vimes, says "I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people.You're wrong of course. There are, always and only, the bad people." No doubt, he would have repeated those exact words to Jack to correct him of the erroneous belief there are any good people.

There are good people, right? You think you're a good person, and you think your friends are good people. That adjective even applies to some of your family members.  But what happens when the same person is described as 'good' by one person, but 'bad' by another person? Who's right? The fact good people sometimes do bad things is also problematic. The inverse is also true; most bad people are capable of good deeds. It starts to get very messy when you think along these lines, and the only solution, which is to find an objective measurement of goodness, is even more difficult to swallow.

Jack Johnson laments the dearth of good people, suggesting, somewhat naively or perhaps idealistically, that there used to be more of them. The Patrician, on the other hand, doesn't believe there are any good people. Is this simply a difference of opinion, or can we determine who is wrong and who is right? Country singer Luke Bryan wrote a song called Most People are Good and despite being quite a sappy tune, I think it represents the majority view. However, the majority view and the right view are not always the same thing.

When the question is 'is so and so a good person?', a much more realistic response is 'it depends'. A person's goodness is demonstrated by what they do, and to a lesser extent by what they say. We can only judge this goodness through our direct experience or the experience of others. Naturally, these views are coloured. They are not even remotely objective. Assuming we think it is necessary to have one, does an objective measurement of goodness exist?

Jesus was often tested by the religious people of his time, who wanted to justify their own behaviour by tricking him into supporting what they did and said. Jesus famously called these people whitewashed walls and hypocrites, among other things. On one occasion, a young lawyer came to ask Jesus a question. He began by addressing Jesus as Good Teacher. I'm sure he only meant to be polite and respectful (Luke Bryan's defence), but Jesus seized on the opportunity to teach the man, and everyone listening, a very important lesson. Jesus replied,'Why do you call me good? God alone is good.' (Mark 10:18)

In his letter to the Romans, Paul quotes one of the ancient prophets when he says 'there is no one righteous, not even one...there is no one who does good, not even one.' (Romans 3:10-12)

God alone is good. Compared to him, everyone is bad. Many people don't like this. They don't accept it. It's too unpalatable and it's based on a fairy tale. That's fine. I'm not telling you what to believe, but accepting it does provide a realistic framework within which to view and understand the world we live in. As far as popular culture's opinion of human nature goes, it seems Pratchett's Patrician is closest to the mark. In such a world full of bad people, accepting there is a God and that he is good offers real hope; life sustaining hope.The Patrician forgot to mention that.

A Dog's Eye: Twenty five...too easy

Social media trends come and go in whirlwinds of popularity bandwagons. Somebody films themselves doing something, calls it a challenge, attaches the deed to a cause and posts it on one or more social media platforms, running it up the proverbial flagpole to see who salutes. The sought after salute in this case, is for the viewer to:

1. Like the video and share it.
2. Film themselves doing the challenge and share it.
3. Nominate another person to do it.
4. Make a donation to the cause.

In July and August of 2014, the Ice Bucket Challenge went viral in support of Motor Neurone Disease. It is now officially an annual event, but subsequent incarnations have not matched the phenomenal $220 million (estimated) raised with the initial Ice Bucket Challenge which simply involved having a bucket of ice water dumped over the head of the participant.

The No Make-up Selfie Craze was attached to the cause of cancer awareness by Fiona Cunningham in 2014. More recently, a men's mental health challenge, of unknown origin, involving raw eggs, sugar, salt and beer has attracted some criticism because of the relationship between mental health issues and alcoholism.These are just a few examples.

There has been a flood of challenges in 2020, most of which are not attached to causes, but are simply one solution to filling the amusement vacuum created by the COVID-19 lockdown. You can read about this trend here. 

The push up challenge is one I am participating in courtesy of being nominated by my friend and Over the Fence co host, Trevor. I even filmed one of my sets in the studio. I've noticed a couple of my other Facebook friends are also doing the challenge which involves doing 25 push ups everyday for 25 days. I've been mixing up the locations a little for interest and also lately adding some push up variations. Suicide prevention and mental health issues such as anxiety, depression and PTSD are the targets of this campaign and the reason why Trev and I are involved is because it's right in the pocket in terms of one of the major themes on our radio show

which is health. Over the Fence is a radio program for men on Darwin's 97.7FM: our tag is "talking about stuff that matters to men". We strongly encourage men to talk about their problems, so we see the push up challenge as a natural extension of this. We are also Movember activists.

As I write this, I have completed 18 days of the challenge, albeit it with a forced break in the middle due to illness. Although for me, it hasn't gained the traction I hoped, I have enjoyed doing my bit whilst keeping fit. If you get nominated, can I encourage you to go for it, or even just kick it off yourself.

The Mirror: Shelf-righteousness

I imagine it came with a book which was gifted to me; most likely from my mum. She often buys interesting books for me and they occasionally come with a bookmark from the store where the purchase was made. This particular bookmark has a list of words on it; book related words. Shelf-righteous* is one of them. Perhaps you thought I was either inventing a word or had accidentally added an 'h'. Not so.

I don't want to boast, especially as I just read Jeremiah 9:23, 24, but I do feel like I have a pretty special collection of books. I suppose many readers feel the same way, so why, I hear you say, do I claim to have a better collection than others? Why am I making such a shelf righteous declaration? And how is my feeling of superiority about my personal library a mirror?

I'll deal with the latter first. What a person reads is a reflection of the person. We normally chose to read books which are 'our cup of tea', so our literary tastes say something about us. I'm being shelf righteousness because I reckon my collection is pretty impressive even though it's small...very small, in fact. I don't usually keep books as I haven't had anywhere to keep them for some time now. Books come and go.

What's so good about my small collection? It's eclectic. At the moment, I'm reading a futuristic action thriller, a Discworld fantasy, and book about a neurosurgeon who was in a coma for a week and now believes in the existence of the 'soul.' Prior to that I read Enid Blyton's Secret Seven, Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss and a time travel, body jumping mystery called The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle. Also in my library are many classics. Books by unknowns and books by very well-knowns. Books about all sorts of subjects, set in all sorts of places with all sorts of genres, styles, and themes. Truth be told though, it's not better or worse than other one else's library.

I was recently ask why I read books. It's a good question which I think boils down to three things: education, entertainment and inspiration. For example when I saw Proof of Heaven by Eben Alexander sitting on shelf and I read the subtitle: "a neurosurgeon's journey into the afterlife," I had to grab it. And the following quote from page 9 sealed it: "My experience showed me that the death of the body and the brain are not the end of consciousness, that human experience continues beyond the grave. More important, it continues under the gaze of a God who cares..." Clearly, this book will educate, entertain and inspire me.

I'm going to finish with one of my favourite quotes about reading, but before that I want to share a snippet from a book I recently read...for the second time. The subtitle of Eric Weiner's The Geography of Bliss is "the grumpiest man on the planet goes in search of the happiest place in the world." Here is a tiny sample of Weiner's philosophical conclusion. "Money matters, but less than we think and not in the way we think. Family is important. So are friends. Envy is toxic. So is excessive thinking. Beaches are optional. Trust is not. Neither is gratitude."

I'm not well at the time of writing this blog. I have the dreaded man flu of which I have previously written. (Exactly four years ago as it turns out) Energy and inspiration are low, but books are helping me through by assisting the passage of time while I rest (I'm not a fan of too much rest) and by providing the topic and many of the words for this post.

"The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read." (Anon)

*Shelf-righteous: the feeling of superiority about one's bookshelf