Death

I've not been around much and I've been struggling to find words, my voice, something important to say. The world seemed to fall into chaos and I went with it, down the rabbit hole of, "What's the point of it all?"

I haven't answered that question yet... but I've been playing with lots of different thoughts and ideas.

This year though, my Dad died. It's been over 20 years since my Mum died. I was thinking about the differences. I'm almost at the age Mum was when she died. So death is right up there in my thoughts.

To assist with my recovery from death and illness, I went on a writing retreat. I began to write about death. It's been such a healing process... even if I've shed more than a few tears as I've written.

Death, like sex, is another "taboo" subject that as a society we don't talk about in any depth. We've very good at skimming the surface (i.e. giving the basic details, asking the acceptable questions) and we don't go any deeper. 

A friend asked me the other day how I was doing. I said I was going okay. She then stopped me, and asked me how the grieving process was going. I haven't been asked that before. It was a much deeper question and took more time for me to think of a response than my usual, "I'm fine, thanks."

Do we have spaces in society to speak about death at a deeper level?

I think that's where I want to focus my thoughts and words. Hopefully I will be back soon with more thoughts and questions. 

And, just a note, it's not going to be dreary or sad, well, not all the time anyway. I think death and life go hand-in-hand, so we need to bring all emotions to the death conversations. 

Words and Healing

 Recently, I went to the Romance Writers of Australia (RWA) Conference. It's been a long time between conferences (I think the last one I attended was 2016... but maybe there was one after that because it seems way too long ago!). 

I had a LOT of work drop on me right before I left, so I wasn't fully committed to the conference. I had to skip a lot of sessions, but those I did ranged from ho-hum to freaking fantastic!

Those fantastic sessions empowered and reinvigorated me. They made me feel like I could write and that my stories were worthwhile. I'd forgotten that feeling.

One session was by best-selling author Elana Johnson who was visiting from the US. She did a plenary session on Sunday morning called, I Don't Just Write Kissing Books. Sunday mornings are tough because the Gala Dinner was the night before, and sometimes it's been a few big nights for people who are usually introverts. So to make a Sunday session a highlight of the conference is a feat.

She spoke about romance books being healing - for the characters who need their Happy Ever After which requires change and healing of internal and external conflicts (the key to romance stories). But also for the readers, who see this healing happening in the characters, which gives them hope that whatever needs healing in their lives can be healed and happiness is possible. What blew my mind was that it's healing for the writers who craft this healing in their stories.

OMG!

My mind exploded because I suddenly saw what I was trying to do with my writing. So many of my stories are about healing some aspect of myself or the society (as I see it).

I thought I was writing to understand. That's always been what I imagined fuelled my writing. But I sat there and saw that I write to heal. I write with the hope of healing.

I haven't written since the 2019/20 disasters - bushfires and floods around me, and a pandemic in the world. I've struggled with finding meaning, value, healing, hope. All the things I need to write stories. So... if I couldn't find these things, there was no way I was going to be able to write those stories.

Which led me to think that over the last few years, I've been healing. 

Healing disasters within me. Wounds that had sat unacknowledged for years. Things I had never consciously thought of, thought through, or looked at. But when the world came crashing around me, I had to go back and look at those unhealed wounds.

I remember in the 1980s, and the Iraq War (I think it was) where I thought the end of the world was nigh. That wound got papered over. I put salve on it, a bandaid, and it kind of healed enough I could mostly forget about it. But those wounds I mostly forget about never heal properly or truly are forgotten. So it came up again and again and again. 

Life seems to be a spiral of learning and healing (or mine anyway). Each time it comes around differently, I'm healing a slightly different aspect of the same issue. I've healed a few of these aspects in the last 5 years.

Facing them, working through them, and healing them has led me to have hope again. I can see a future. I can see things that I feel can change. 

Imagine my surprise when I left conference with these thoughts in my head and went off on a writing retreat - and WROTE!

I'd intended to write a Nature Journal because stories were not happening. But I sat down to do that and a person appeared and began to speak to me - person being a character. She had a story she wanted to tell.

My writing process is a weird one, but more and more people are speaking of similar weird processes now, so I didn't try to change it. I let my process flow. 

It's a discovery process. I don't know anything about anyone or the story until the words are outside of me. When someone asked what I was writing, I was honest and said I didn't know. I had a female character who was grieving. 

After a couple of days, she was healing. Then a man appeared. I thought I was writing to explore affairs because he was kind of shady and secretive. I talked about writing Erotic Taboo stories.

As the week went on, and the words flowed, I realised that I liked these characters. Maybe it wasn't an affair. Maybe they like each other too.

I have 26 000 words written. I'm interested to see where they go to, who these people are, what they're going to show me about myself, society, and healing. Or are they going to show me something altogether different?

So, I'm back home... drowning in work... but once I get that done, I'm keen to get back to my story, my characters. I'm keen to see what I've learned in my time away from writing. I'm keen to see if I can identify any healing.

I shared a scene with a friend who said there was light in it. Which filled me with joy, because I feel lighter now than in the past, more hopeful maybe it is.

So, let's see where this takes me.

But huge thanks to Elana Johnson for her words on healing. They made me cry. They made me laugh. They made me love. And that made me open my eyes and see more.

Writing people are the best!

I'm still here... sometimes...

Oh boy, it's been a while.

I was down at the river the other day, intending to head to the beach, but there were heaps of Black Swans on the river, and then a Caspian Tern was feeding. I had no hope of going further!

The Caspian Tern is quite a lot bigger (and somewhat slower) than the Little Terns I've been trying to capture, in a photo as they dive for fish, over summer. So, it was fabulous to have a tiny smidge more time to track the bird, and sometimes focus on the dive.

When they started to dive in amongst the swans, I got excited. The swans didn't seem to care at all.

Some days are just incredible. I pinch myself when I get to spend time with some of nature's spectacles.

 

Positivity

 I've lost my positivity, I've noticed, as I look back here. I'm sorry.

Cate was always the me who did the different things, who pushed boundaries, who walked along the line of 'not normal' that I was always being told I should be closer to.

I don't deal well with the push backs... which is why Cate was perfect. But now I see that Cate's being subjected to the pushbacks that I didn't cope well with. And not surprisingly, I'm still not doing well with it! LOL! 

I've curled into my shell and packed up. Not a great attitude for someone who wants to change the world, hey?

CATE, GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER!

Small steps to make changes, that's the way to go for me.

Here's my positive for the day:

I cleaned up a bean bag fom the local river over the last couple of days. I saw it there, torn, with those little styrofoam balls falling out. I went home for garbage bags but underestimated the number required. So after a couple of trips I've now got the bag and 95% of the balls removed. 

Those tiny balls! OMG, they're so hard to pick up and put in a bag! They're electrostatically charged and have a mind of their own. They cling to the plastic rubbish bag, then leap away. They coat themselves in sand and vanish. I was like a crazy person trying to deal with them. So they're still mostly there, and I hope to go back again and have another attempt at collecting more of them.

Here are 2 of the 3 garbage bags required to get the bulk of it removed.

The best thing about this: I live in such a great place, that there is always someone doing a task like this, and I'm glad I got to have my turn tday. 

What's your positive story for the day/week/month/year?

Huge big sigh

Now my posts are being put behind 'sensitivity' warnings. So far only 1 post... and it's one of the tamer ones about women (women-on-women sex). 

I don't understand the world any more... although, I wonder if I ever did?

So much is messing with my head. 

The age old sex is terrible, we must hide and shame it; yet violence is on the nightly news uncensored.

Women are being murdered by their exes; but men need to be helped to see their kids, mend their relationships. Family court overrules standing AVOs/DVOs.

Victims are being revictimised by the court system over and over again.

Why would anyone put their head up and complain about something that needs to be better in society... when they're piled on, abused, shamed, annihilated.

I picked up a book because this quote was on the cover - Why are we made to fear the witches, and not the men who burned them?

Why is society the way it is?

What can I do to change it?

I think I've been quietly trying to change the world around me for fifty years... and change is so slow that mostly it seems like it's not happening.

I'm disheartened, frustrated, annoyed, but trying so hard to see the good, the joy, the changes, the people doing so much for others. I do need to focus on the good.

There are so many advocates for women who have been hurt, abused and victimised. People who are being voices when others can't speak. These people are angels.

There are those being outspoken and opposing shame and stigma around sex and sexual choices. More angels.

There is acknowledgement of gender fluidity, people allowed to marry whoever they love, rights being restored to many who had few, voices being allowed to be spoken and heard.

There is change happening.

I need to remain positive that life will be better for those to come.

Censorship & Writing Struggles

For longer than I've been Cate Ellink, I've struggled with the abundance of shame, horror, and shock piled on me because I want to write about sex. I am Cate Ellink because of this; my family's reaction to me using my real name was extreme, and not something I expected. And in 13 years, it hasn't lessened.

Today I typed in my website address. There's the adult warning (as usual) and I click that. But now I get something where I must sign in and my sign in must have a credit card linked to it so that they know I'm over 18.

My heart breaks. Again.

Who will ever find my website?

I can't post links to my blog posts on social media because it shows a broken webpage image and no one looks at those (and you'd now have to log in, etc etc).

I can't advertise my book covers using social media ads because there are naked chests.

The use of the word 'virginity' in the title caused so much trouble with advertising that it never happened (it couldn't happen).

I pay the same amount of money to host this site as I do my other one. One is freely open to all, and this is shoved in the shadows in the corner and hidden.

And fuck... I haven't killed anyone. There's no aggressive violence or hate views expressed. No, those would be fucking okay.

I talk about sex. A freaking natural act that somehow causes extreme reactions - more so than death, violence, or hate speech.

My writing has been down the gurgler ... and it's no wonder. Why would you write when you're so shunned for what you write about?

The fight to normalise nature is fucking exhausting.

Why can't we ban the bloody awful things human beings to do each other - like war, violence, rape, hate, abuse? Why is nature so shunned?

If my website goes...does it matter? Probably not to anyone but me. It's a record for me, of my journey along this path. I've so many incredible memories of sharing discussions, thoughts, discoveries, and nature. 

I'm sad today. So sad.

Oh good grief!

 Where does time go? I popped on here and last time I was here was November. Holy cow!

I wish I could tell you that I had some great book news for you...but I don't. Sorry. Old books are on sale, a few words have tumbled from my brain, but mostly I'm still taking photos.

Here are some of the latest photos:

I sat at the beach on Saturday evening to see the moon rise. It wasn't quite full, but the night was perfect I thought. I'm glad I did because last night was clouds. Of course, these are in reverse order...but I'm out of practice doing posts :)

Hope you enjoy!

The almost full moon, later in the evening

Sunset and gum leaves

Sunset through the dune trees

The moon and ocean through the dunes

Moon, ocean, waves

A wave while I was waiting

The wind-blown sand, while I waited

A tern flies back with a feed

Seagulls flying into the setting sun

The setting sun through the grass on the dunes

Wildlife Wednesday

Here are a few pics of the critters about at the moment. 

Obviously, I can only take photos of ducks in a row - I can't get myself sorted at all!

Jumping spider on agapanthus stem

Little spider in web

Cycloctenus species of spider

Seagull on patrol

Australian Raven

Butterfly

Male Superb Fairy Wren singing

Australian Pelican

Having your ducks in a row!

Welcome Swallow

Fearless Friday - photos

 Oh boy, it's been another huge break from here. I have no clue where the time vanishes to!

Here are some photos from yesterday...just so I can keep this blog going until I get myself writing again, or find words, or whatever is missing.

Onion weed flower

A bunch of onion weed flowers

Butterfly

Fish and their shadows in the river

A Little Tern caught dinner

A young Welcome Swallow keeps an eye on me

Another young Welcome Swallow

Pelican

Plane and contrail

Fearless Friday - societal conventions

When I went on a writing retreat... way back, months ago... I started another story in the Glebe Gannets series (Team Player was the first one, and so far the only one). This one is about an older woman and a young footy player. He doesn't fit society norms - and I don't wnat to give him a label. 

I've got a notebook filled with scribble, and last night I managed to sit and type some. I was thinking about societal standards and conventions when a Rugby League story ran across my twitter feed and got me thinking.

I grew up in a time when societal conventions were quite strongly adhered to - although they were breaking apart. I was someone who questioned all these stupid standards that stopped me doing things, so I've not been good at knowing what these standards are or caring too much about them. However, most of my family group and many friends, care deeply about them.

As I wrote this story, Ashton has no clue about standards and is questioning Angie all the time about "why?" His questioning makes her question too. So she's coming to realisations as she patiently explains things, and sees how silly her explanations become.

This is kind of where I think we are in a society too. There is a generation of youth who don't really understand or give a shit about convention. There are an older generation who hold dearly to convention and will die defending them. Then there's a bunch of us in the middle who have started dismantling, and can see both sides.

And back to the Rugby League story. A female Indigenous player made some social media posts (I haven't seen them) about the Queen's death that offended many people. She's been penalised for this. One journalist went so far as to call this 'the most reprehensible thing in Rugby League'. 

The most reprehensible thing? Lordy! After some of the things that have happened in rugby league, I think that's a ridiculous call. But anyway...I'm not going to delve into that.

I think this is a case where societal conventions are confused by social media. 

In the collective of society, the Queen's death has been mourned across the world, with the media saturation and perpetuation of the grief incredible.

If you're someone who ignores the media (as in news, commercial media, etc) and has social media as your point of reference, then the people who are in your social media 'group' are the ones you take your cues from. They're the ones who are setting your societal conventions, so to speak.

If your social media is curated to being only the things you're passionate about, believe in, and support - then you may have a different view of what's accepted in the wider community, than what the wider community sees.

I have a wide mix of people in my social media feeds and I skim it rather than devour it. So I see a lot of varying views. And I like that. I like to think about things from different perspectives, and develop my own thoughts (or open my mind to other ideas). There was a huge outpouring of grief for the death, but I also saw a lot of people who were not grieving at all and saw this as a time of change.

At present, the wider narrative is about the grief, sadness, loss and what a wonderful woman. The world media has ensured that. But what if your social feed was not showing that? How would you know?

Societal conventions are constructions that exist because it's a majority held belief. There is always going to be people opposing every convention (I think that's human nature). 

How do we deal with these people? In most cases, they're punished for not conforming.

I'm not sure that we should be dealing out punishment for non-conformity.

And that's where Angie and Ash's book lies... me treading a path of non-conformity, and wondering if I've gone too far! Maybe that's why I'm struggling to write.

Hmmmfff...I just hit myself in the face with that thought! That is most likely the case. Every idea I have at the moment is treading a fine line in non-conforming. I'm struggling with myself as to whether or not I should "go there". Huh!?!?! This is almost three years of mulling and I think I've finally seen what my 'unable to write' problem is. 

Fearless Friday needs to be Fearless every day.

Thanks for reading the thoughst of my rambling mind.

Cate xo

Remember me...?

Oh My Goodness!

How on earth do months vanish? How have I gone from blogging 3 times a week to once every 3 months?

I don't know what's happening to me but I cannot fit everything in. I'm not even sure what I've taken on that is taking up my time...but it's a struggle to get through what I need to do, without getting too caught up in the want to do list.

Are you like this too?

When I do up my bills, I see that work has increased. That's a good thing for my debts, bills, and expenses :) but not so good for my mental health and sanity! 

I've probably been walking and taking photos more too. When work makes me cranky, I grab my backpack (camera bag) and off I hike. I come back ready to face whatever crazy task I have to do.

I have a few scribbled words still happening when I get a chance.

I haven't typed up a whole notebook of scribbled story from my retreat...but it's on my To Do list (the Want one, but maybe I need to move it to the Need one!).

So, that's me.

How are you doing?

Here I am on a walk on the poor flood affected beach near home. It's winter and a cold wind, even if the sun is shining!

Fearless Friday - writing

You're probably aware that writing and I have not been too friendly these last couple of years. Ideas are there but not the words to flesh them out. I've been taking photos instead and doing little scribbles and just seeing where life takes me creatively.

But I've been invited to a writing event. My heart is so full of joy and excitement. I've been preparing for some time now, but in the back of my mind I was scared it would get cancelled or borders would close down or something disastrous (and you know, that may still happen, so I'm not over the fear of that yet!).

In this whirlwind of writing joy, I began to write again. Just a few lines, just for a few days, but words have started the slow trickle out.

And the story I've begun has been percolating for some time - way back when Team Player was being 'birthed'. It's a Glebe Gannets story, with one of the guys we met briefly in Team Player. A young guy, like Lyle, called Ashton.

His story idea came to me in a whoosh! He's a bit different - he's blunt, unapologetic, a footy nerd - some might say he's 'on the spectrum' but I don't want to label him. He's just uniquely Ashton. And he's young, I mentioned that, right? Somewhere between 18 and 20. So young.

But he meets this woman. God, it's so intense because she lets him be. He's usually told to shutup, be different, calm down, whatever. She just smiles and lets him talk. She lets him be Ashton. But she's not young. She could be his mother but he's not worried about that - she is though!

It's a story about shame - her shame. Her shame at wanting a younger man. Her shame of being seen as a footy groupie at her age. Her shame of sex. Body shame. Ageing shame. So much shame.

I'd tried to write it but it was bogged down in her feelings of inadequacy and awfulness - even though she was a successful woman. And I hated that. I couldn't write it.

When I began recently, I began writing as Ashton. Wow! What a change. I can depict her as a strong sexy incredible woman. That's what he sees. That's who is attractive to him. And her fears have to come out verbally, because he's pretty shit at picking up cues.

I don't think I've written (anything published) from the male perspective before, and I hadn't been comfortable doing it either. But Ash is a chatterbox and he's happy to tell this story. He wants to burn through this bullshit shame. He wants to love fiercely. He doesn't give a shit about age.

Maybe the last few years of no words has been about me changing my perspective and breaking out of my own boxes with how I write. Maybe I stuck myself in a place, and even if I wasn't completely happy there, I told myself that's how I had to write. That's how it worked. That's how the world worked. I have a few story ideas that aren't 'normal'. That are breaking out of what I usually do. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Now, as I'm getting ready to go back into the writing community, I'm hoping that I can hold this new me. That I can keep this new (for me) way of writing and not get lured back to that corner where I hid.

So, wish me luck! I hope Ashton will keep yabbering at me and keep me away from shame and society's view of the non-sexiness of older women :) :)

I went to the footy last weekend too - I wonder if being in a crazy-high footy crowd also boosted my writing mojo!?

Potholes

I know it's not Saturday, but I am on my soapbox! Expressing thoughts with no answers.

We've had A LOT of rain recently and our roads are filled with potholes - some of which are huge. People have been bleating about them constantly. Council was out as soon as the rain stopped and any flood water receded, to fill them up before opening the road again.

I was driving on Saturday, dodging potholes, and it got me thinking... potholes are a reflection of our society and how we deal with issues. Let me explain.

Roads are fabulous things - they get you quickly from A to B and allow many to travel the same/similar paths without a huge amount of wear/erosion (on vehicles or the path). Yet, they cause runoff when it rains, so that water accumulates at their edges, leading to preferential flow - a major issue from the excess rain we've experienced (as well as potholes, the landslips have been huge). Roads also ensure everyone travels in the same manner (i.e. we're confined to a narrow path where tyre pressure is largely along the same part of the road, where most people brake/slow in the same place, etc). So, we have something great, that also has a few negatives (kind of normal, right?). 

The negatives, though, are often the causes of potholes (and slips). The excess water cuts into the soil at the edge of the asphalt/bitumen/concrete, which excavates and erodes. Often the ground beneath the road slips/moves/changes, and potholes appear (we're on largely sandy soil, so this is even more prevalent). Constant pressure in a spot (e.g. from braking) can also impact the ground below as well as cracking the road surface. So water runs down there and also erodes beneath. Potholes develop. Road edges crumble. The fabulousness of roads now has non-fabulous, and potentially destructive, potholes. So we run out after rain, and fill the hole, chuck a patch on top, and bob's your uncle! Road is right to go.

It's sort of like the Health System and the impact Covid has had on that. Nurses and doctors are buckling under pressure. They're required to work in dangerous situations (not just with ill patients, but understaffed and underresourced with a risk of contagion to themselves and their families), underpaid, undervalued, and with various levels of government assuring the public that it's not a system in crisis. Government filled the pothole.

The Education system isn't too different, with teachers required to do online teaching (without training or resources), then working in potentially contagious situations. Yet, it's fine, no one's health or education will be affected because measures have been taken (i.e. we've filled the pothole).

Yet, long-term, what young person is going to see medicine or education as viable, valuable, sensible careers after they've lived through this?

The potholes might be fixed, but one day, that road is going to have to be dug up and properly fixed (or moved).

It's bloody hard to look under the road when it's so fabulous and doing it's job. 

It's frigging difficult to imagine what we could use instead of the fabulous road.

But are we forever going to fill potholes?

Fearless Friday - society and poems

I've been participating in Post-It Note Poetry (#PINP22) for the last 11 days, which I've done each February for a few years. A friend organises it as a time to make daily words, even bad words, and each poem need only fit on a post-it note. It's shared on social media with the #PINP22.

This year, Jodi and Christina decided on a theme of Forbidden Desire. 

I was wondering if I should participate when an idea struck me. If I had 28 Forbidden things, and 28 Desires, I could pick one of each daily and create a poem using those words.

I suppose it is obvious, but it wasn't to me (!), but each poem I've created has been a 'critique' on society. 

I hadn't realised how much I had to say about so many different topics! And most of the 28 words I'd forgotten (as I created the lists a week or so before 1 Feb), but my subconscious must have been working on this for a while.

I guess over the last few years, this blog has seen me work out many frustrations at society, so it's probably no surprise that forbidden desires have resulted in this commentary.

I'll paste a few of the "poems" here: