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So its not fun to be me right now. What do I have to complain about? Well not much you'd think and I actually genuinely dislike complaining. I hate it. I hate doing it, I hate listening to people doing it, but I learned a long time ago that if you keep this stuff bottled up in you then you're just going to end up some kind of wreck. A bitter emotional wreck. That's two kinds of wrecks, with adverbs!

So this is why my life sucks. I work a job (which is awesome!) that makes me get up at 5 am (less awesome) and I start at 7. And then I have to do overtime most nights till 5 pm. So I've got money and a livelihood, not a big deal right? The thing that sucks about that is that I'm genuinely very tired when I get home. Tired and disinclined to write when all I want to do is just chill out.

So where do things really start to suck? I've got acid reflux. Its painful, its taking over my whole life and it invariably makes me feel sick and very genuinely unwell half the day, every day. And it sucks. It robs me of the energy and the desire to do anything besides just relax and try to keep my sanity.

And I'm kind of failing. And I don't like it, because if there's something I like less than complaining? Its failing.

But at least I'm listening to Daft Punk! :D

Cemil is feeling human again

For the first time in 2011 I finally feel not sick as a dog. It's been a long trying four months and I'm sick of feeling sick. I think I've finally cracked what's wrong with me: I've become lactose intolerant. So we've got some soy milk and that's pretty all right, but of course, I can't wave that flag till after I get the proper testing.

So right now I'm surviving on Yakults, soy milk and these tablets called Nexium. Stomach problems run in my family, so it seems I've inherited the family disease. Alas, I'm only 26! But anyway. I'm very fortunate to have the friends I do. I spent a very lazy easter reminiscing with my very good friends Matt and Ben.

As younger men we never really fit into any kind of mould: we were ridiculous pranksters who got up to all kinds of (illegal) shenanigans, we were avid gamers who spent weekends chilling out with snacks, junk food and all kinds of crap and we'd pick a game and smash it out in a weekend. And Matt, Pat and I could be amazing party animals smashing it out at the Lounge, heading to Sorry Grandmas and partying to godless hours of the early mornings and not getting to sleep till 9 the next day.

But we outgrew that stuff. Most of it. I played Final Fantasy 13 with my friends that thursday and friday, chilled out with more of my friends and saw Thor on Saturday and now today I rested. Then I'm heading out for an ANZAC day BBQ and to watch the game (Carn the Pies!).

I'll admit that in my private moments I can fall into some horrendously black moods and depressions. And after four months of feeling like dog crap? I hit the bottom real hard. Seeing my friends and just hanging out just pulled me out of the pits like it always does. AND I was even more fortunate to receive Katy's writing tips via SMS following a hilarious conversation over the phone.

Who has time to feel bad with friends like these? :)

So I've been quiet for a while...

I should feel very accomplished right now. As a writer and an editor.

I have a position coming up with Hinkler books for a week and a bit, not terribly momentous all told but it's an exciting position in terms of paid employment inside a publishing house, and a part-time internship with Ford Street publishing starting on friday.

I have a big project for an online game (on my own time and completely unrelated to basically anything beyond my own satisfaction) that is soon to be completed. Then I am planning on finally finishing this novel by June, and then I'm writing a script for an online animation that my friends in Canada are working on.

I've done very well for myself in a short space of time. I've volunteered my own time in a way that is going to help develop myself as a writer and an editor. Yet it somehow doesn't feel like enough.

It's a bad thing that I think this way. It's my very blue collar showing up. Nothing is ever good enough and I have to do better. It's a paralysing way to operate. I should feel very proud of myself, satisfied even, but all I can mentally do is put myself at the start of another road to walk.

Ah well, at least I'm getting somewhere.

Cemil was in a battle without honour or humanity...

Versus hayfever. That scourge that so rarely affects me bombarded me for this entire week. I've barely gotten out of my room the pollen was so bad. You might have had occasion to see me during the week being absolutely demolished by it. I've never had a reaction that bad. The thing is that I've only ever had hayfever three times in my very life. Weird huh?

Maybe I'm just getting old. Man, what can you do?

So anyway, I've been demolished all week by this bastard of a thing but now the rains have come I'm feeling a lot better.

Cemil has exploded...

That's the only real word for it. I've absolutely just imploded these last couple of weeks. I hit the wall recently on this great big editing assignment, had my brain explode and from there have just been trying to put it all back together again.

I have been mildly successful to be honest. I've done great things with my writing this year and although I haven't gotten the word count that I would have liked, I've reached some pretty good places with my craft. It makes me happy. But it's become pretty clear to me that I don't just want to, but I need to get so much better. But I've accomplished so much:

I'm working a job next week 9-5 monday, tuesday, thursday, friday for a week and a half inside an actual publishing house for an hour and a half. I've finally made a brief, but my all important first paid mark in the industry. This is such a big huge deal for me that I'm really happy. I've accomplished just about every goal that I've set myself for this year and it makes me so happy.

I've really struggled in the past to find something I really care about that I've been able to do so well in. My huge problem is that I'm never happy with anything I do and stress the hell out of myself because I want it so bad. And I honestly think I'm quite shit at it - it's nice to know, that y'know... I ain't half bad at this gig.

Now I just need to kick my ass back into gear. TALLY HO!

Cemil hates fasting...

My body isn't built for it. It's especially not built for it when my blood sugar crashes and gives me headaches, makes me feel fucking hungry all the time and ruins my concentration.

I can't sleep. Fortunately, I just discovered True Blood and my thought of the day is:

"I have gout of the dick."

Clearly this is my (lack of) blood sugar talking. God, I cacked myself when I heard that.

Cemil is feeling tired...

Man my blood sugar problem is really starting to kill me. I bull rushed through 2 chapters over the weekend but didn't actively realise that I basically just wrote 1 chapter and split them into 2 just to make it look like I did more work. I actually did write 2 chapters and they were decent enough I suppose, but my normal chapter length is 3500-4000 words. I wrote 2000 a pop.

I can fill those out though no problem.

But man, this blood sugar thing is killing my drive to work. My ability to concentrate - it's all shot to tell.

Oh well. ALSO in my novel class last night I think half the class stared daggers of death at me. I was telling them about my work experience and we were talking about how to write a submission for your novel. All well and good and the teacher asks me the question:

Were you in a position to reject their submissions? And I answered straight away: Yes. And I rejected most of them.

Dead silence. Eye lasers hit my face.

Someone asked me why and the reality of it was, that most of the submissions I saw were total shit penned by people who thought they could do what I do professionally on the weekend between their regular day jobs. Writing is not a game, it's not a thing for hacks to pick up and glut the industry with. But the reality is that they do and they do it by the truckload and it's total ratshit.

What people don't realise is that writing is one of the hardest, most grueling processes you can put yourself through. It takes determination and a fine understanding of craft. An understanding that can take years to develop - I've been professionally trained to do this and I have a lot of things to learn about this gig.

But the only thing that is clear about the writing biz is that it's a lot of hard yards with almost no payoff until the end. And maybe, just maybe, you'll become the next big thing. That's the career I've chosen. I'm probably never going to be rich or famous or anything. But god damn it I am going to get published. I am going to get my book done. And I am going to become an editor.