I really do not like catching taxis but once a week it becomes a necessity for grocery shopping. The route from our condo in Marina Bay to Great World City is straight-forward with just five corners to turn off main roads and it should cost less than SG$7 (AU$5). However, taxi drivers here in Singapore tend to think, when picking up an Ang Mo, that you’re a tourist and don’t know where you’re going so if I should make the mistake of picking up my iPhone, before I notice it, I’ll be on the scenic route in the opposite direction. And I must remain alert the entire journey, as just when I think it is safe to look away, I’ll find myself somewhere that begs incredulity. Needless to say, this simple weekly task which takes a mere 10-15 minutes causes me angst in anticipation, and I had to ask myself why; and why I can’t instead enjoy the journey on the detour as apparently that is a sign of a truly happy person.

Firstly, I believe it’s a question of time. Time is the most valuable commodity we have; once it is spent, it can’t be recovered. For every weekday, I segment the working hours into units and allocate these precisely to ensure I achieve everything that needs to be done that day (sad, obsessive, yet true and a sign of  conflicting priorities).  So a detour in a taxi can make a mess of my schedule, not to mention it is scenery I’ve seen plenty of times when I intended to see it.

Secondly, I don’t like to be ripped-off. No one likes to be taken for a ride (pardon the pun) so when it happens, it is an affront to ego—someone has assumed we’re too stupid to know better. I don’t like to think I have an ego but obviously I do because an incident in Morocco in 2010 still haunts me when it really shouldn’t. As is often the case with tours, we were taken to a local spice shop in Tangier and I ended up paying significantly more than I should have even though we’re only talking about $40. Still, it annoys me that I didn’t question it even though I knew it was not right and was strangely silent (must have been the spices). Again, I have to ask myself why this would bother me so much since it is not a significant sum—it must be a question of ego, and that’s disturbing; the presence of ego means an absence of humility.

How do you react when ripped-off? Do you think it’s a question of ego or something else? 

Regards
Leigh 

Leigh K. Cunningham on Facebook and Twitter.

It has been over a month since my last post. It was not a case of disinterest or lack of ideas, and I was pretty certain that no one was out there waiting and wondering when the next blog from Leigh Cunningham would arrive. Anyway, I have been busy on other projects and working on my next novel, Being Anti-Social, which is due for release in May 2012.

Elizabeth Botté has once again designed the cover and I think she has done a great job capturing the essence of the story, which is: if you are comfortable with your own company and prefer to stay home eating pizza and drinking wine while watching TV, then you should not feel compelled to change to meet other’s expectations of you. Is it autobiographical? In many ways, yes it is, except that I am happily married (and much older) while Mace Evans, the protagonist, is divorced and single at 38.

One story-line in Being Anti-Social is Mace’s preoccupation with the abuse of the cliché, “At the end of the day.” Without fail, you will hear someone on TV utter these words every single day and during sports telecasts, I guarantee you will hear it endless times. And yes, this is a pet peeve of mine. 

Literally, ‘at the end of the day’ (obviously) refers to the time of the day when one’s work or waking hours come to an end, and desirably that is how the phrase should be used, and only used. For example, “I will have an answer for you at the end of the day.” Perfect!

The cliché is used instead of other simpler alternatives that occupy much less space and time including: in conclusion; in summary; after all; anyway; therefore; or another popular bridging word, ‘so’. Quite often nothing is even required, for example, “At the end of the day, you will have to decide where you want to live.” Why not just say, “You will have to decide where you want to live”? Of course, it is also open to confusion as the beneficiary of this phrase, and others like it, might think they literally have to decide at the end of that day.

If nothing else, it is clear from this blog post that I have very little to complain about, but like Mace Evans in Being Anti-Social, each infringement of “at the end of the day” causes a physical reaction like a jab or a stab whenever I hear it, and unfortunately it happens a lot. 

Personally, I prefer every possible alternative to the cliché. What about you or are you an abuser of “at the end of the day”? If so, please make it stop :)

Regards
Leigh 

Leigh K. Cunningham on Facebook and Twitter.

Back in 1995, Steve (husband) and I were strolling down High Street, Prahran (Melbourne) when we came across a book stall on the footpath out front of a bookstore. Now, as many of you would know, you can often find some real gems on these bargain tables (I'm saying this to save face when I find my own books on one) as was the case in 1995. I picked up a rather antique-looking book titled, The Marriage Book and for $5 thought it would be an important addition to my collection and perhaps it would even guide me through the vagaries of married life.

It didn't have a publication date but I made some inquiries of a book historian and antique bookseller and was able to establish a release date some time in the early 1950s.

Out of curiosity, rather than a desire to become a better wife, I flicked through the pages to instantly find valuable insights which also confirmed what I've been doing wrong these past 28 years. I'd like to share a few of these with you so they can similarly improve your existence.  

Chapter 1, Happiness in Marriage: "Somewhere, when the promise of marriage ends in disappointment, there has been blundering." You can't argue with that. And, "Your husband does not need to hear about the difficulties of your day when he returns home from the office. Be showered and groomed and ready to greet him with a smile." This is definitely one I have failed to practice. 

In the Chapter, The Problems of the Growing Child in the paragraph, Good Manners I learned that: "When a small son or daughter takes the opportunity on a rather important social occasion to throw his manners to the winds and to behave like a little hooligan, it is only natural for his mother to feel somewhat humiliated."  This is comforting I'm sure for mothers throughout the ages.

There's more important advice on children in the section, Mud Pies: "It is natural when formal visitors call, to feel a little ruffled if a muddy, disheveled object bursts into the drawing room looking like nothing on earth. Perhaps we should prefer not to listen to any attempts to uphold the rights of mud but children revel in it. They are intensely happy stubbing their toes in it, splashing it around and handling it. Mud is nature's free gift to our children for instilling confidence." I had no idea mud could do this.

In the Chapter, Getting to Know Ourselves, it seems, "Men usually have a far better idea of their sex organs than women of theirs." I'm pretty sure I know where they're going with this.

If you've read my novel, RAIN, you might recall that I refer to The Marriage Book in Chapter 10 (1967) and I assure you that I referenced exactly the advice offered in the book. Michael and Helena have just moved into their new home in Orchard Road (yes, named after the famous street in Singapore) and Helena reverts to The Marriage Book to assist with her argument that Michael should not smoke in the house:

"An additional issue arose with regard to cigarettes, which drew nicotine into Michael’s lungs and precious sums out of the domestic purse. They were responsible for the stained tongue and groove walls at Park Lane, which were now tinted orange with no evidence of the military green beneath. To protect the fibro and furniture at Orchard Road from similar mistreatment, Helena had outlawed smoking in the house. In support of her argument she had reverted to The Marriage Book, which had merely reported that although for grown-ups smoking had undoubted advantages, there was an almost unanimous medical opinion against smoking for children. There was no mention of any alleged pernicious effect on chattels, and Michael retorted that he had no plans to share his Marlboros with William, and so the case closed in his favor. It was not however, a closing of all arguments related to money, which would settle on the marriage like nicotine on timber."

So, if you're looking for guidance on any number of important subjects including common questions of married life, well-kept floors, how to explain to a child 'where did I come from' using an egg and a nest, the definitive list of items you must have in your kitchen, dishes for invalids (husbands), dressmaking precautions (don't do it) or household management and accounts (remember to pay the fish monger on time), or any other meaningful topic, please do not hesitate to ask and I will be happy to 'advise' you directly from The Marriage Book. 

Regards
Leigh

Goodreads reviews of Rain

This year has not progressed at all according to plan, with the primary diversion caused by an unexpected relocation within Singapore, which occurred immediately after we returned from holidays.

We lived in our previous condo at Amaryllis Ville for seven years since moving to Singapore in 2004. Aside from the fact that we don't have a live-in maid, this lengthy tenancy is also highly unusual and a point of curiosity with all the agents we met. But we were perfectly happy at Amaryllis Ville and saw no reason to move for the sake of it, and certainly not simply to have something bigger, better and shinier.

We also were not keen on moving because of the search—spending endless weekends viewing one condo after another then trying to rate the pros and cons for an overall score. In the end it all came down to two criteria: (1) does it have a built-in dishwasher and (2) location, ideally a CBD location so Steve could walk to work. 

You would be surprised to learn how many condos were immediately out of the frame because they didn't have a dishwasher. While most of us are used to this being a given in modern homes and especially in brand new homes, here in Singapore where live-in maids do all the chores, and people do not tend to cook and eat at home, a built-in dishwasher is a rare find. Sometimes landlords will offer to provide a dishwasher if one is not installed but these will then be placed (a) in the yard (laundry area) a long way from the kitchen or (b) it will be a mini bench-top dishwasher which is pretty useless.

The other difficulty in finding a place to live in Singapore these days is construction noise. When we first arrived, rental agreements had clauses that allowed you to escape if there was excessive noise, but that clause disappeared around 2008 when construction became inevitable given the relentless progress of development. 

So, here we are at Marina Bay Residences (MBR) overlooking Marina Bay and the east coast (where there is construction in progress naturally, but at least it's no longer outside our windows!) Some of the construction is the new Gardens by the Bay which will offer more fantastic walking trails when it is completed. We're already enjoying evening walks around the bay (through Marina Bay Sands) and along the Esplanade.

This is not to mislead you into thinking we're living a healthy life. Unfortunately we are surrounded on all sides by restaurants including Level 33 above us and the Marina Link Mall below us which stretches from MBR to Raffles Place MRT, and of course across the street is the magnificent Marina Bay Sands. This location is absolutely brilliant but it is causing irreparable damage to the waistline and we're finding it hard to care; plenty of time for that later.

It all feels rather rosy and we're glad our former landlord sold our condo and forced us to make a move for greener pastures. There's just one niggling doubt in our minds: three times now when we've moved after being a while in one place, within days or months, we're outa here! For example, in Rockhampton we lived at Thirkettle Avenue, our first home, for seven years, decided to build a new home and 13 days after moving in, Steve was offered a job in Melbourne. In Melbourne, we lived in Prahran for four years then decided to buy a new townhouse in Toorak—seven months later, Steve is transferred to Sydney. We lived in Rozelle for three years in Sydney, bought a new townhouse and within four months we're packing our bags for Singapore. Can it possibly happen again? Is this our fate?

Regards
Leigh

PS posting photos of our new condo on Facebook soon.

Subscribe to feed

     Writer Resources 

• Association of Independent Authors
• Booksquare  
• Publetariat
• Kindle Nation

  Other Writer Blogs

• Kev C Webb
• Dream Raider
• JA Konrath
• Anna Lefler
• Heather's Odyssey
• Life, the Universe ...
• Fiona Ingram
• Nonsense at Work
• The Write Rants
• Deborah McCarragher
• Journal Writer
• Scott Nicholson
• The Front Parlor
• Word Vessel
• Interestingness Rediscovered
• Justin Kemppainen
• Richard W Ridley
• Self-published Authors Lounge
• Denise Krochta

We're back from a fabulous time in The Netherlands and Belgium. And for those of you who are still confused about Holland and the Netherlands, Holland is the most populated region in the west of The Netherlands which includes Amsterdam, Rotterdam and The Hague. The Dutch prefer if you do not refer to the country as Holland which is akin to calling Australia "Queensland".

Several things struck me when we arrived in Amsterdam 6am that first day: (1) the Dutch are incredibly tall thanks to genetics and a high-protein diet when young, (2) they're very friendly in the same chatty way Australians are (3) they party hard! 

The day before our arrival was Queen's Day (Koninginnedag) which is Queen Beatrix's official birthday. Her actual birthday is on 31 January however the weather at that time is not conducive to the kind of celebration the Dutch have in mind and we saw the aftermath—Amsterdam was a rubbish tip with ankle-deep garbage covering every street, and  the canals, and the infamous public urinals gave rise to an unbearable stench. For two kids from the cleanest city in the world, it was a little confronting, but by the next day, we had a chance to see the real Amsterdam.

A highlight, one of many, was visiting the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam—family and friends will no doubt recall my decade-long obsession with Vincent. Other highlights were the historic town of Brugges, eating Belgium waffles for breakfast, Belgian chocolate, and generally, the beautiful countryside as we cruised the rivers of Belgium and The Netherlands. I love greenery and I love water, and the two merged everywhere on our path.

Unfortunately the tulips bloomed early this year due to an un-seasonally warm spring, but we still had a chance to see plenty at the incredible FloraHolland Aalsmeer flower auction where 20 million flowers are auctioned every day. This was another highlight of our trip. It was so alive with activity and of course masses of beautiful flowers of every kind, and you can no doubt imagine what a massive warehouse filled with 20 million flowers might smell like. You might be familiar with the term "Dutch auction" which has negative connotations in the business world, but this is how the flower auction is conducted, with prices starting high then moving lower. You bid (press a buzzer) when the price is at your level if you're not too late. If I lived in Aalsmeer and was retired, I would spend my mornings at the flower auction. 

We were blessed with perfect weather on our holiday until the final two days when the real Amsterdam summer revealed itself, and it is colder and wetter than any Melbourne winter. At least we experienced the truth before we espoused the brilliance of a Dutch summer. According to our tour guide, the two weeks of perfect weather we enjoyed (and preceeding six weeks) might well be the only warm, sunny two weeks for the entire summer.

We thoroughly recommend The Netherlands and Belgium, and river cruising is the best way to do…it if your waistline can survive four-course meals three times a day.

I've posted photos on Facebook, and news of recent awards for RAIN on my Facebook author page.

Regards
Leigh

Subscribe to feed

     Writer Resources 

• Association of Independent Authors
• Booksquare  
• Publetariat
• Kindle Nation

  Other Writer Blogs

• Kev C Webb
• Dream Raider
• JA Konrath
• Anna Lefler
• Heather's Odyssey
• Life, the Universe ...
• Fiona Ingram
• Nonsense at Work
• The Write Rants
• Deborah McCarragher
• Journal Writer
• Scott Nicholson
• The Front Parlor
• Word Vessel
• Interestingness Rediscovered
• Justin Kemppainen
• Richard W Ridley
• Self-published Authors Lounge
• Denise Krochta

I've received a few queries about Rain, which was released as an e-book on 17 March 2011 on the anniversary of my brother, Paul's passing. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to share their thoughts on the story. It is fascinating to see how readers react to the characters, and as an author, it is rewarding that readers feel passionately in the extremes, for example, Michael evokes hatred or compassionate understanding, but everyone seems to know exactly how they feel about him, one way or the other.

Rain is a dark story for sure, but the key message, which only really reveals itself in the final chapter, is one of hope and renewal. Throughout the story various characters have searched for it, perhaps found it, or not. In our lives though, I believe, it is never too late to make a change and set a new course for generations to follow—what has gone before you doesn't have to follow you. That's a choice, and obviously a tough one for some to make since mistakes do seem to repeat themselves through the generations.

Regarding the title, it is also pleasing that readers understand why "rain" was chosen as the title. I did sway briefly onto another title, but I was constantly drawn back to Rain. Rain is, I believe, symbolic of the story, and as readers would know, does feature in pivotal scenes, most poignantly I guess, in the cemetery scene in Chapter 32. And this passage from Carla's letters to her mother while she is living at the monastery:

I am waiting for the rain to pass so I can hike again through the bush—I go there in search of my guide. There is something about the rain. I have always found it comforting. It makes me feel warm even when it is cold. I love the way it smells, especially the way the bush smells after the rain. I love the way it tastes and I love the way it feels on my skin. Rain is life—everything grows from it. Maybe I should go now while it is still raining, and tempt fate. Maybe I can catch the proverbial death of a cold. Maybe a dose of pneumonia is all I need to set me free. There is nothing quite like the rain.

Ordinarily after 'finishing' a novel (note: I don't believe a book is ever really finished), one feels quite euphoric, but given how many times over the past six years I've had to read, rewrite and edit, Rain, and since it is quite a dark story, I actually feel quite exhausted. I hope it passes soon, like the rain.

Rain was dedicated to my husband, Steve (see FAQ on my inspiration for writing rain), and to the memory of my brothers, John and Paul.

Subscribe to feed

     Writer Resources 

• Association of Independent Authors
• Booksquare  
• Publetariat
• Kindle Nation

    Other Writer Blogs

• Kev C Webb
• Dream Raider
• JA Konrath
• Anna Lefler
• Heather's Odyssey
• Life, the Universe ...
• Fiona Ingram
• Nonsense at Work
• The Write Rants
• Deborah McCarragher
• Journal Writer
• Scott Nicholson
• The Front Parlor
• Word Vessel
• Interestingness Rediscovered
• Justin Kemppainen
• Richard W Ridley
• Self-published Authors Lounge
• Denise Krochta