What’s your next best move, baby-cakes?

Have you felt like you could choose to do one thing that will lead down one track; another thing and there’s a new trail, with a whole different vibe and crew along for the ride?

crater lakeside
Crater Lake, Cradle Mountain National Park, Tasmania. The cool kids.

There is often a really clear answer to a question like “what’s your next best move, baby-cakes”?  You just automatically make choices.

Have you ever felt your options open up a “sliding doors” kind- of movie moment (you remember the fab film with Gwnyneth, the defining moment which lead to romance, an alternative life?).

Have you felt like you could choose to do one thing that will lead down one track; another thing and there’s a new trail, with a whole different vibe and crew along for the ride?

There’s that kind of liveliness about the regional coastal area where I’m living in Tasmania at the moment, autumn is just filled with events ( and the usual regional social ‘bobs your uncle’ go- to’s) every weekend.  Choose between a funky musical/ story-telling event like, the bighart Acoustic Life of Sheds Project, or go along to your neighbours Body Shop party.  Like I said, some decisions are easily made, but have you stopped to wonder just how much you’ve actually changed the course of your life at times…

Jane's Shed, photographed spectacularly by Hannah Sadler, March 21, 2015.
Jane’s Shed, photographed spectacularly by Hannah Sadler, March 21, 2015.

Stop the clock a moment to consider.

This fortunate situation you’re in;  having choice, opportunity and motivation to give new things a whirl.  What are some of the defining turning points of your life to date?  There are no doubt surprising and dumb choices that have each thrown up new experiences in front of your face.  New people, work or travel experiences realigning your trajectory.  Knowledge.

Are you hard-wired for endurance, you stick to a task; perhaps you even have an old grind that has consumed a good part of your life?

Some relationships seem destined to dog you for all your days, others blow in with sweet promise.  Light bright liasions.  Safe people.  Heart pumping people.  Together or alone; the power of places, of stories.  The intricacies of life.  Choices.

How lucky are we?  Having the freedom of choice.

Tasmanian Aboriginal Petroglyphs from the Arthur- Piemen Reserve, like a signpost or a story.  A blog post from pre- colonised Tasmania...
Tasmanian Aboriginal Petroglyphs from the Arthur- Piemen Reserve, like a signpost or a story. A blog post from pre- colonised Tasmania…

For part of my novel redraft (number three) research, I revisited some favourite places on Tasmania’s West Coast recently.  I met some interesting locals and immersed myself in the quiet solitude of the coastline here.  The decision to go down to Arthur River and do this research (adding so much value to my writing practice), was fed from many different moves, sources, people.

It felt like I’d just come from the scrub out onto the beach, with a fresh water source, a sheltered bay close by for shellfish collection and the ultimate hut site with 360 degree views across the landscape.  The petroglyphs were like an ancient cairn.  I was on the right track.  I’d got to the right place for this time, anyway.

It was arguably my best move, getting my barge arse down to Sundown Point before the business of redraft number 3.

one year of blogging taught me this about social media


Shame on you for showing up on social media, or feeling as though you have to.  There are irks that have come with a blog- a- bit life.  Can I post or retweet ‘my kind of’ link without coming off as a narcissist?  I teeter on the edge of the comments section, grappling with the exhibition of my words.  This unduly sharing tool, sickly sweet sometimes.  Like a crap collector other days.  Gems of information and opportunity stuck in cyberspace like mud on shoes. And lots of us, bug -eyed in the screen light.

Social media is a digital wonderland of cringe-worthy moments from your past and other peoples lives.  There’s heaps of old words twittering around earth, bouncing off revolving stars.  It doesn’t matter if its pointless, right?  Embrace it.  Manage it.  Use social media as a business platform or an organisation tool, if it suits you.  Communicate with friends easily when you need it. Tweet for good cause and share loveliness BUT make it original.  Make it laughable, however shit or how- ever flippin’ fabulous you get your words out.  Blogging has got my digital perspective out of the box and keeps me tossing its value over, again in my head.  Out with the compost some days, goes better scraps.

Dip Falls, North West Tasmania. LTaylor.
Dip Falls, North West Tasmania. L Taylor

My time OUTSIDE is strongly linked to my most shareable moments blogged and written about in all realms.  The island Tasmania, I call home is like a never ending paddock of fodder for my well-being and creativity.  Its really nice to have places that rumble inside you.  Somewhere you know you can go to, so that when you come back to the everyday grind you are a fresh brewed version of yourself.   I have friends who worship Cradle Mountain in Tasmania, remarking it is such a place.  The Alpine air is ENRICHED with otherworldly goodness.  Other magic places at home are just around the coastal corner, The Edge of the World and deep south, Bruny Island is bursting with so much lively activity it’s hard not to get revved up.


Narawampatu National Park. L Taylor 2014.
Winter sunshine like medicine at Narawampatu National Park. L Taylor 2014.


It’s been a year since I began Lucy’s Living Guide.  It’s a nice place to make my own word trail when I’m not OUTSIDE or attempting to tip the scale in balance of more writing, less domestic distraction.  I do words in other places too.  Like work for Tourism Tasmania, Niche Ignite and various magazines and publications.  If you need a Creative Writer, get in contact for a quote. Pass it on xx

And thanks for reading 🙂

Slow parenting- taking the scenic route (and all its slack)

roses on wooden backgroundIt is that elusive quiet time.  A chosen moment of peace in my day at home with my three and a half year old son who is most often by my side.

I’ve switched on the television, we are buzzing after playgroup and have eaten too much chocolate slice with other ‘stay at home’ mothers and their charges on this day and now we are content to switch off.  I can retreat to my writing space feeling sated by the morning’s good company and treats.

My novel manuscript mid- edit is put to one side.  Its beginning to become boring, two years in the making.  I’ll get back to that in the morning while the whole house sleeps.  I have one invoice to send off for copy writing work, meagre offerings from a freelance writer to our family budget.  My blog today is a confessed self indulgent piece of  journal writing and it feels appropriate given the conversation topics raised at playgroup this morning.

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The perfectly unattainable work/life balance, self esteem and ‘who you are?’ beyond ‘what you do?’ have been suggested  as topics for a discussion group for our community of mothers in our regional area.  Let me know if you want to hear more about where the conversations will take us.

I am mostly thinking about something else entirely, that goes beyond this.  The perception of being ‘busy’.  Shawn Fink of abundantmama.com has permitted a ban on busy, which may seem extremist if you are one of those people who thrives on doing it in the fast lane.  I however embrace the notion of ‘slow parenting’.  Mostly because it is completely absurd.  The hours move quickly, days, years can be gone and a baby grown to a small child with a giant ‘tude.

We are still in an early childhood stage in this house but I am astounded at how my ‘slow’ living has amounted to this chunk of time I’ve been a ‘stay at home mum’ having gone by.  I have essentially taken the scenic route, have literally explored our ‘local’ world with my little explorer’s- got to the same place many others are at, probably with similar results (my average, normal, somewhat dull, sometimes fabulous life) has got me to this moment- what do I have for it.  Snapshots of the view?  Crap everywhere?   xmas 2013 to easter 2014 189

Without thinking tangibly I’ve decided, from this place of infinite wisdom that, slow parenting- taking the scenic route is:

Wonderful for writers, creative’s and meditative souls who might truly embrace these pockets of time to dream and slip into the imaginative world of a child.

A time for growing life long friendships and relationships with like- minded people.

Gives women a chance to evolve with the changed body shape and mind-set, parenthood invariably brings.  May you be stronger for taking this journey.  More emotionally fit and physically beautiful.

Physicality is important.  Actually being in your young child’s life means a lot of human touch.  Skin touching, emotion altering, endorphin pumping touch: hormones all aflutter.

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It is a time for learning about your place in the world as a mother.  The circle of life continues.  I’m thinking BIG, which is to say I’m talking about how small and insignificant your actions are, placed on a world scale and how in a child’s life it might seem that you are the world.  It can turn worries on their head, this type of wonder.  Little things can count, as much as the big things.

Living out a parenthood- centric phase of life; right in the centre of it is at best- cuteness.  Its also peppered with those ragged, stinky moments that are celebrations– toilet training- hooray, really does it ever end!  School days, where you are essentially free for a short while and miss the chatter.

You value nurture.

You value nature.

You are lucky and you truly believe it.

And often you crave life in the fast lane; the craving in itself often a dream better than the prize.

You chose this life and your living it.  Slowly; the scenic way where you’ll find me here at my lookout.

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