disconnecting to reconnect

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First things first, happy new year. Here’s to a 2016 of love, creativity and simplicity. There. The big ’S’ word – I said it.

A few things to share about the last couple of months or so:

  • I applied to do my masters (writing for performance) and got in (!) which means that, yes, after 7 years (7 YEARS…eek!) I’ll be hitting the books again to which I say – bring it on. I’m feeling nervous and excited and apprehensive and excited and, well, just excited really. I’m finally going to have the chance to study my craft – full time – and for that opportunity I feel truly, truly blessed.
  • I’ve made the decision to ‘unplug’ this year. To disconnect. Continue reading

just where has smartykat been?

Lately I’ve had a few of my darling smartykat followers contact me and say, “Where are you?”, “Where have the posts gone?”, “I want mooooooore!”, so I thought I better pull my finger out of my butt…on hole and give you all a bit of an update. Never fear, smartykat is ALWAYS here, just not necessarily always in her blogging form. Here’s what’s been taking up S.K.’s time:

THE novel

Yes, I’m still plugging away at my debut novel and yes, I’m still absolutely loving the process. Continue reading

the (dying) art of letter writing

Yesterday I met Postman Pat’s wife. While writing away at my usual hideout, a middle aged lady walked in, sat down opposite me on the communal table, ordered a long black and then proceeded to work her way through the 5 inch (at least) wad of mail that was accompanying her. I kid you not. Plastic wrappings and envelopes strewn across three seats and all.

image by hellojenuine

Even more disruptive and un-communal-table-esque was this lady’s constant chattering – to her mail. No, I promise, I’m not having you on. She conversed with every single piece of paper / card / stamp that she came across – including the Myer catalogues. Ah, isn’t that lovely, Oh, how nice, Oh my God. Oh my God! (this was in response to what look like a cheque so I’m guessing her weekly lotto purchase paid off). My response to her was torn. I honestly didn’t know whether to wedge one of her catalogues up her ass or bless her dear little soul for reminding me of the forgotten joy of letter writing. Continue reading