My Mum is under the impression that when I move out, I will be leaving my bed behind.
I don't mean to be crass, but what the fuck? I don't fucking think so! This is her reasoning:
Mum: I need a bed in that room. I'm going to sell the house at some point and if there's no bed, it'll look incomplete. And then no one will want to live here!
Okay Mum. First of all, you are a crazy person. Have you seen my room? Bed or no bed, it's a shitstorm of insanity. If you want a chance in hell of selling the house, you can't let people into my room fullstop. It's crazy. It's me. I know some of you haven't seen it, but to give you a bit of an idea...I have a disco ball, a mannequin wearing a cancan dress, starfish doorhandles and the word fuck painted on my ceiling. Sorry, Mum and Dad. This is what happens when you let an 11-year-old decorate her own room.
You know what show I'm loving at the moment? Home and Away. I've been watching it since I was about 9 or 10, so I know most of the storylines. Some of which - to put it mildly - are crazy as fuck. Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much. My favourite plotline at the moment is the whole Nicole/Marilyn/baby thing. Is anyone else uncool enough to watch Home and Away? Let me break it down:
Nicole is a pregnant 1st year uni student who is giving her baby to Marilyn, the defacto wife of her best friends dad, who she once tried to hook up with. Oh, also, the baby's biological father is a dead serial killer who once tricked Nicole into thinking she had HIV.
Holy shit! What the hell are they smoking in the H+A writers room? And can I have some? The other thing I love is that Nicole went from peeing on a pregnancy test to practically crowning within about 6 weeks. Apparently Summer Bay is set in another dimension, which is unfortunate because I was actually planning to move there following the predicted worldwide success of my book.
Speaking of my book, here is an update:
Writing a book is fucking hard, you guys. Especially when you're writing it about your own life. There's so much stuff to go through! And edit! That's probably the hardest part, because I want the book to be funny. And while I think pretty much every event in my life is hilarious, others disagree and I am an idiot. Plus I keep remembering stuff to include at the most inconvenient moments when there's no way I can write them down. Like in the shower. Or in bed.
I often wake up at 2 or 3 in the morning with something in my head and rush to scribble it down...only because I never seem to have paper, I wind up writing it on myself. And because it's 2 or 3 in the morning, whatever I write doesn't really make much sense. I woke up on Wednesday morning with Mrs Wilson year 8 camp portaloo screaming on my leg. For the record that actually has a great story behind it, but I still looked a little insane.
I have a few days off over Easter so I'm planning on spending at least one of them doing some hardcore writing. Or, as hardcore as it can get when you're writing about portaloos and comparing the nipple size of all the men you've ever seen shirtless.
One thing I have made progress on is the title. I have the title. I'm going to keep it secret for now, mostly because I'm a paranoid freak who's afraid someone less lazy than me will steal my identity and publish my book before I even get off the couch, and also because having a secret book title makes me feel like a big important author.
Dont worry, I know I'm delusional. And I'm pretty okay with it.
One of the signs that tells me I have no idea of how to act like a legitimate author is that I wrote my acknowledgements before I wrote the book. Normal authors don't do that, right? I'm guessing they don't have their first draft written on a bunch of stapled post-its either, but I can't help that I'm too poor to afford a laptop that actually works. Plus since when do I do things the same way as everyone else?