Weeping at weddings: it's universal

On Saturday I went to one of the loveliest weddings I've been to in ages. Admittedly, weddings are few and far between for me these days, with most of my friends cruising past the 'decade' marker and some approaching their China wedding celebrations. (China? Seriously? Not even an amethyst or something?)

So, imagine if you will, late afternoon light filtering through the trees to cast a golden glow. Garlands fluttering in the (admittedly chilly) breeze. Big fat balloons dancing on their tethers. Handmade bits of fabulousness hanging out of trees. Confetti in lolly bags. The bride in cowboy boots, the groom in spectacular sneakers.

And everyone crying.

The bride trying to keep her mascara in place. The groom choking on his vows. The best man splashing salt all over his Man In Black ensemble. The friends weeping, the family weeping, eyes welling up all over the joint.

We were all so happy, you see. The wettest wedding I've ever seen.

My propensity to cry at weddings, any wedding, whether I know the couple or not, is legendary. I don't wail like Maxabella, but my eyes hurt with the blinking. Since I've had kids, it's true, I cry at pretty much anything. Particularly children singing or giving speeches or generally doing anything that requires them to be earnest and innocent and young and... oh dear, I'm weeping at my keyboard just thinking about it.

It makes school assemblies quite entertaining for everyone else, let me tell you.

I wondered if the whole weeping at weddings thing was universal. So I ran a little survey on Facebook and Twitter. And,  yes, at least 80 per cent* of us are blubbering away from the moment the wedding march begins.

One Facebook friend, a photographer, admits that she cries even when she's only at the wedding on a professional basis - to the point where one Father of the Bride had to offer her a tissue during the speeches. I love that commitment to the job!

Others were frank about saving their tears for funerals, and I get that. I cry at them, too. I guess my emotions leak out of my eyes whether happy or sad. But then, I also cry in movies. I couldn't watch Beaches these days. Or Steel Magnolias. I was incoherent in both of them way back in my late teens. Imagine how I'd be these days, based on my school assembly performances. Doesn't bear thinking about.

There are no weddings in my future that I can see. Sadly. I'll have to save my wedding weeping for the television version. Though I have to admit that a TV wedding hasn't really captured my imagination since Scott and Charlene's big day on Neighbours. Which was a while ago. I'm not going to think about exactly how long ago.

That would really make me cry.

*please do not check my maths - I put together a guesstimate based on the comments I received. there is nothing scientific about my surveys. and it's a well-known fact that statistics will say whatever you want them to say. ask anyone.

Are book publishers looking at your blog?

We all blog for different reasons, and for some it's about turning their blog into a book deal (others manage this simply by happy coincidence). But are publishers really looking online for book inspiration?

I knew a lot of people were wondering, so I asked six publishers whether they're reading blogs with an eye to a book deal. I found the results really interesting and I'm sure you will too.

Pop over to visit the gorgeous Nikki at Styling You, where I'm guest-posting. Would love to hear your thoughts!

My garden of writing

I've spent some time this week rummaging about through this blog looking for things. It's like burrowing to the bottom of the toybox to find the missing Connect 4 piece. Or excavating the bottom of Mr8's cupboard to find his Ninja belt after he's 'cleaned up' his room.

In the course of said rummaging, I have discovered that there are certain themes emerging in my work after nearly three years of writing this blog. The slanket gets a good workout. I am very fond of Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I have an absolute obsession with gardening/writing metaphors.

To the point where I really need to get over myself.

In an attempt to do so, I have rounded up three of the better ones, put a fence around them, and put them in their own little patch. Specifically here. My garden of writing. (With only the slightest hint of fertiliser...)

If you ever need a gardening/writing metaphor, I encourage you to pick one.

Wa-a-ay back in the beginning, there were pumpkins.

The editing process can be brutal - but it beats death by 1000 cuts in writing.

And a hint of things to come: Small pleasures

I have also likened writing to weight loss, waiting, and washing.

But, seriously, how beautiful is this image of the first magnolia in my garden? Look at it there, backlit, unfurling, like the first few pages of a brand-new novel, when the idea is fresh and golden and the writing is... okay... I'll stop now.

What's your favourite metaphor for writing?

You're only as fast as your slowest team member

Since our move to The Old Girl, the boys and I have been walking to school every morning. Or rather, it began with us all walking, but now they ride their bikes while I run along behind, carrying Mr5's bag like a Sherpa (because he can't seem to ride with his eyes open and balance a bag at the same time), shouting 'don't forget to check the driveways' at regular intervals.

The first time we ventured out onto the streets, after months (and years in some cases) of practising at the showground, on bike paths and in the driveways, they were both very cautious. Mr5 wouldn't leave my side. Mr8 put on some Big Brother Bravado and ventured ahead, but he was quick to stop when I shouted and would actually stop at every driveway, look right and left, and then ride on.

Now, they waiting at the end of the drive by the time I lock the back door. By the time I get to the end of the drive, they are down at the first corner - where they must wait until I arrive, puffing, to escort them across the street.

As soon as they hit footpath again, they're off, 'check the driveways' ringing in their ears, a quick glance sufficing as they sail past each house front. They are at the next corner, waiting patiently, by the time I get past the first property.

And so we do this dance all the way to school. Race off at 100 miles an hour. Stop, wait for mum. Race off at 100 miles an hour. Stop, wait for mum.

"You must be getting to school much quicker now that they're riding," said The Builder to me over dinner one night.

We all looked at each other.

"We can only go as fast as Mum," said Mr8.

We all looked at each other.

"Which is fast enough," said Mr5, patting my hand.

I wonder if Tenzing Norgay had this problem.

At least he didn't have driveways to contend with on Mt Everest.

[image: from here]

Tips for writing features #11: Riding the waves

If there's one thing I've never really managed to master with the whole freelance writing gig, it's the waves. The work comes in waves. It's either drought or tsunami. Similarly, the income comes in waves - drought or tsunami (okay, perhaps more drought or trickle, but we can only think positive, right?).

Mastering the ebb and flow of the work is a true skill, and one that I'm still working on. When I'm, er, between jobs, I fret and pace and worry and send out 1000 pitches. When the work all comes in at once, as it invariably does, I fret and pace and worry and scramble and try to remember to send out a few pitches so that I don't find myself in this mess again - and then I don't. And so the cycle begins again.

In an ideal world, I would be channeling the Muse (remember her?) once a week in regular, planned sessions and sending out a couple of pitches on a regular, planned basis. That way the work would flow steadily, always present, never too much, never too little.

I don't actually know any freelancers who manage this, but if you do, please contact me. We should be friends.

So what's my tip here? Beyond doing your best to follow that aforementioned calm, steady, regular, planned approach, my only tip would be to try to enjoy the downtime when you do actually get it. Go to a movie. Have lunch with friends.

I should mention that I never do this. I'm too busy fretting and pacing and worrying and sending out 1000 pitches to take the breathing space when it comes.

But you should definitely do as I say, not as I do.

Do you do freelance writing work? Are you better at riding the waves than I am? Please share any tips in the comments!

[image from here]

Catching up

This weekend I'm off to hang out with my Big Chill friends. The people I met when I first moved to Sydney at 17. With whom I made some of my biggest and best mistakes, and had some of my finest moments.

They lived with me through the various outfit/style changes that represented me trying to work out where I fit in in The Big Smoke, picked me up when I fell on my face (both metaphorically and literally), and laughed and laughed and laughed with me at so many, many things.

I haven't seen them in years.

I can't wait to see them again.

Have you got Big Chill friends? How long since you've seen them?