How to gain instant music credibility

This post was all set to be about how the Genius at iTunes seems to be under the illusion that I am a complete dag. For those not familiar with the word dag, think of everything cool and hip and sohotrightnow - and then picture the opposite. That's a dag.

For some reason, I opened it up on Sunday and it was suggesting I buy singles by Jason Donovan, Ricky Martin, Take That and Guy Sebastian*. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Yep, a trip to the iTunes store can be one simple way for those over a certain age to see that they're really not, um, with it anymore.

Today's a different story. Today Genius is suggesting I purchase Sufjan Stevens, Little Birdy, and Happy Mondays.

There can be only one explanation for this.

Genius has found The Builder's playlists.

Music cred by association.

You've got to love marriage.

So tell me, what does your iTunes Genius say about you?

*Please let it be noted that I have never purchased anything by these artists. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

{image: via weheartit.com}

Did your Glory Days involve a backpack?

I have days when I wonder if I should have had my children earlier. These days usually happen when I am tired, depressed by the sight of another grey hair, and coming to terms with the fact that I will never understand the Justin Bieber phenomenon.

Then there are the days when I actually sit down and remember my twenties. The time I spent working on magazines such as Vogue Australia and CLEO. And the several years I spent based in London, working at Homes & Gardens magazine, and squeezing in as much travelling time as possible.

I had a flurry of those days this weekend when The Builder and I welcomed one of his Dutch relatives into the Fibro. K is 20 years old, spending six months in Australia, and deciding which university course he will take up when he gets back home. Remember those days?

It was a joy to have him here. An excuse for The Builder (who, in true Australian fashion, left home one year in his twenties and came back five years later) and I to relive our travels. To talk about London and Amsterdam and Berlin and Prague. To warn K about the dangers of Full Moon Parties in Thailand - and then suggest that if he must go (and, really, what 20-year-old boy thinks he shouldn't?) to be very, very careful - and not tell his Mum until after it's all over.

We talked about our worst experiences in backpacker hostels (The Builder always wins these contests). I remembered, though did not share, the time a man pulled a gun out at a campfire at Anzac Cove (he fired it into the air, looked around wildly, and disappeared... what a shame). We both agreed that we did not appreciate the amazing places we went and the incredible sights we saw until it was all much, much too late.

K's eyes were probably glazed over at this stage, watching us relive our Glory Days (which occurred approximately as he was being born). But he is very polite and pretended to listen. Fortunately, I managed to withhold the story about the time I went to Scotland with a group of girlfriends and we spent much time and energy searching for the Mull Of Kintyre, simply so we could sit on a rock and sing the song. I'm thinking he probably wouldn't have appreciated that one. At all.

But now that it's front of mind, I'm sure it will give me the wings (sorry) to get me through my next Way-Too-Old Mum day. I might even teach the boys the song, just to be sure.

Did you spend your 20s with a backpack? Do the memories keep you sane on bad days?


{image: via weheartit.com}

Weekend Rewind

I am full of Chinese food and beer and pretty much empty of inspiration tonight, so we'll cut to the chase. Welcome to the Weekend Rewind, the web's easiest linky. All you have to do to participate is to follow the Fibro if we're not already friends, drag one of your old posts out into the air (kicking and screaming, if necessary) and link it up for some new comment love.

Got it? Fablious.

Today's prompt is, in keeping with our months of the year trend, August. All I can think of is the seminal Neil Diamond album Hot August Night, but I blame my parents and too many hours in the Kingswood for this. 'Sweet Caroline' anyone? (Bah, Bah, Bah.)

I'm open to better August tunes. But more open to August posts (from 2010 or earlier). If you'd can't do August, give me something cool. Neil Diamond is cool. Apparently.

Okay. Everyone set? Rewind!

Irrational crushes

Tonight I shared with The Builder the identity of the man who has had me all-aquiver for the past six weeks or so. A crush of huge proportions. Tremulously, I turned to my husband and said: "That man does things for me."

He looked. He looked again.

"Him?" he asked. There may have been some incredulity involved. Okay, there was quite a bit.

Admittedly, DCI Gene Hunt (aka actor Philip Glenister) from the ABC series Ashes to Ashes, is not everyone's cup of tea. But some reason he is mine. A smoking hot cup of tea.

Irrational.

It's not the first time I've succumbed to the irrational crush. I remember having a thing for Dennis Waterman 150 years ago when he was Terry McCann in Minder and I was about 12. (Come to think of it, Dennis and Philip share a certain... hairline or something.) I also liked Bodie from The Professionals (the dark one, incidentally, not the one with the springy hair). Prior to these crushes, I'd been into Leif Garrett and the guy who played Bo on the tv version of The Dukes of Hazzard. Hormones have a lot to answer for.

I don't even want to think about psycho-analysing the origins of my 'thing' for, ahem, mature actors with Northern accents in police dramas.

But I do want you to share in my humiliation. Tell me your irrational crush. Please.

Finding the right approach for writing

I'm going to answer a question today. I'm not usually one for doing that, preferring, as we all know, to ask them. But it's a slow news day in the Fibro and I'm scratching around for a post. So...

When I ran my interview with Mia Freedman on Monday, Gill from Alice Becomes (great blog incidentally by Gill and Nic from Our Park Life) asked the following question in the comments:

"I would love to know your thoughts and how you balance and differentiate between separate styles of writing? Similar to Mia's point of view?"

Mia's point of view, just to refresh your memory, was this:

"Every type of writing I do - from Twitter to books - is different. It requires a slightly different approach and, often, a different tone. Since I'm constantly flitting between social media, Mamamia, my column and books, I barely even have to think about it now. Although, books can be a bit of a gear shift. You need to lengthen your concentration span, which is reduced constantly by tweeting and blogging."

I do agree. Magazine writing requires voice + objectivity. You are writing for a large, faceless audience who have certain expectations about what they will see in that particular publication. There will be a certain vocabulary that will resonate with that demographic (and you must never forget that each magazine has a specific demographic) and you may find yourself using such terms as 'BFF' and 'vajazzle', which you would not generally use. You must also in feature writing make room for expert voices, weaving them in and out, providing a balanced view of whatever your subject may be. Having said that, the essential tenor of the article must remain true to your own style and voice. Easy, huh?

Writing for a personal blog, on the other hand, requires intimacy. Here, it is all about your voice. This is what I love about it. You can truly give voice to your own voice in a way that you can't when you have an editor, a specified readership and others to please.

Twitter and other social media has been very good for my writing in a strange way. While it is not good for the attention span (I agree 100 per cent with Mia on that), it is superb for clarity. Getting a cohesive message into 140 characters can be a challenge and is a simple way to spot waffle at 20 paces. As for Facebook, there is an art to an excellent status update... one which I'm still learning.

Now for books. Ah yes. So many words. With non-fiction books, I usually break it down into chapters, write each as I would approach a long magazine feature and then work out where I've repeated myself so that I can cross-reference and double check. Fun.

Fiction, on the other hand, is a whole different kettle of fish. It comes back to voice - presenting your story in your own words - but also creating characters with their own voices. Not easy. There's also a lot of persistence involved. As discussed, I am not a plotter (though I am rapidly appreciating the value of having a map through a story), so I tend to just start and see what will happen. I find that fiction requires long periods of thinking followed by short bursts of activity. I put down 1000 words here and 500 words there, and then ruminate for a while before banging out another couple of thousand words. I know that many experts say that the best advice is to write every day, but my thinking on that is that I do - just not always on the same project. Perhaps this is why my fiction remains unpublished...

I also write for other websites, do corporate work (including newsletters and media releases), and write advertising copy. All of which require different approaches again (which we might go into a different day as I'm getting sick of the sound of my own voice here...).

So, yes, I am constantly switching between forms, but each has a quite specific approach. Sometimes I do find myself wishing that my next magazine feature was 140 characters long - but I have to say that writing short can be a lot more difficult than writing long. Less room to cover up if you get it wrong.

The one thing that carries over in every form of writing is discipline. Mostly, the discipline to do it.

{image: Natashanb/Tumblr}

The chocolate yoyo

I am officially deluded.

Last night, I had only one Tim Tam for dessert (rather than the regulation two) because I did not wish to undo all the good work that I had done that morning at the gym. I felt good and virtuous and immediately three kilograms lighter.

Today, I ate a small chocolate bar and justified it to myself with the thought that I would be going to the gym tomorrow morning so it wouldn't matter. I now, of course, feel bad and guilty and immediately three kilograms heavier.

Generally speaking, I am not too weird in the area of food. Weird in other areas, tis true, but not in this area. I am an all things in moderation girl and if sometimes the moderation looks more like 'moderately less than the entire packet', well, so be it. But, yes, I am back at the gym, and, yes, I am even going twice a week, with plans to add an extra day. Why? Because it's true what your mum told you - you hit 40 and it all changes. The weight goes on easier and it comes off a whole lot harder.

And so, here I am with my chocolate yoyo thing going on.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Do you?

{image: via weheartit.com - please let me know if it's yours}