How to Spend One Million Dollars

Eeek! I have won a million dollars! Now, time to stop jumping around and let's talk about how we're going to spend it.

I don't look like this anymore. But I did. Once. Back when TVs looked like that lol

Okay, let me be Captain Obvious here for a moment and give a wee little disclaimer: I am not a financial adviser. This post is just for fun. If you win one million dollars, please do not interpret any of this post to be any form of financial advice from me. For the love of GOD, please see a financial adviser.

Now that is out of the way, let's continue. Woo-hoo! I've won some dollarydoos! Bonza, mate! Now, how to spend one million dollars...

I have never been overseas. My initial instinct is to say that I would pay off my mortgage and travel with the rest. That sounds sensible and fun. But if I think a little bit deeper, I can come up with the following:

• Buy a boat and sail around the world - I'd probably get seasick, and I can't sail, but hey, it sounds like a thing that a millionaire would do. The seas await!

• Throw a biiiiig party - Like, a massive one. Hire a fancy venue, get all dressed up, have a huge tab, drink cocktails with gold leaf in them, and dance with the masses... Yeah, this is SO not my thing. I'd make a crappy celebrity. The only photos of me that the paps would get is me drinking coffee in my Oodie on my back porch, and the only scandal you'd read about is how many days I've gone without a shower lol.

• Buy some fancy artwork - I could hang it in my hallway for the kids to knock down on their way past. One of them would probably bluetack their own drawings over the top or add mustaches to the faces. Priceless.

• Invest in shares - Now this sounds a little too sensible, but I also could lose the lot, so maybe it's just the ticket. It's really just a socially acceptable gamble, right?

• Buy a racehorse - This could be fun. I'm not sure how, seeing as though watching horses is not fun, and then someone would have to look after it, train it, clean up poo, oh and actually ride it. So, it'd end up being a big money hole and a lot of hard work. But hey, it's an option.

• Open a bookshop - Yes please! With brightly coloured walls and couches, lots of little reading nooks, new and secondhand book sections, a coffee machine, and regular community events, author talks and writing workshops. Oh yes! This option sounds perfect.

• Give it away - I'd love to be the sort of person who would win a million dollars and go "Eh, I don't really need it, but so many other people do," then just give it all away to people in need. I like to think that I'd give at least some of it away. But I definitely think that I would struggle giving it all away.

• Buy a shack in the bush and become a hermit who lives off the land - Yeah, this is much more my style. I'd love this option, but I have a family to consider, and I'm not sure that they'd love this option. Sadly. Sob. Goodbye, sweet shack.

• Surgery - Goodbye, mum tum and saggy boobies! Hello, what's the point because I'm never naked enough in public for anybody to actually notice so it would really just be a waste of money. Hah!

• House renovations - This would definitely be one of the things that I would seriously consider. My kids would nag for a pool. Would we get a pool? Probably not. But maybe. A certain Simpsons episode comes to mind lol.

• Education - I could study to become whatever I wanted and end up with no debt at the end of it. Truth is, I don't want to study anymore. So maybe I could just tuck it away for my kid's education. This is also a much too serious option.

• Property - Yeah, the classic property option. Buy houses and live off the rent. Not exciting. Also, there are tax implications, and things keep breaking, and tenants keep complaining. Boo.

• Retire and move to Greece - Retirement might seem appealing to some people, but I'm only 40, I've still got a lot of contributing to society to do, and I'd get bored. Unless you chuck in a retirement destination like Greece. Now that sounds lovely, but I'd probably still write, so I wouldn't really be retired, I'd just be moving. Would I just pack up and move to Greece and write books? Nah, but I'd travel there. Damn me and my practical brain. Won't even let me retire. Grumble.

Okay, okay, my silly brain just won't let me think of outrageously lavish options, it's too practical and throws me too many objections. This activity sucks. I don't even want a million dollars anyway!

(I'm sorry I said that. I know The Secret. I really do want a million dollars. No. I WILL HAVE a million dollars. I am manifesting it right now. It's happening. It is in the process of coming to me. The universe wants me to be a millionaire. I am those people in the GIF. I am a millionaire. Woo!)

... What would you do with one million dollars?

Love,

Marley xx

Writing Advice: Just Do The Thing.

Sometimes I forget the MOST important piece of writing advice... Well, maybe I don't forget, maybe I just ignore it for a while. It's hard to do the thing, and I don't want to do it. Doing things isn't fun. Scrolling on social media and refreshing my news feed seems much more fun.

I'm not actually writing here either

Well, not fun, but the activity seems more desirable at the time.

It doesn't make sense, does it? Writing is my PASSION. It is my favourite thing to do. Sometimes, when i'm in a flow state and full of ideas, it comes easy. The words flow effortlessly. Other times, i'd rather SCRUB A TOILET than write any words for anything.

Literally.

I would actually choose to scrub our toilet than sit down and write any words.

Why?

Uhh:

• Lack of inspiration

• Lack of motivation

• It's hard to see the payoff

• It doesn't feel worth the effort

• Fatigue

• Laziness

• Mental state

• etc etc etc

Sometimes it's all of the above.

Other times, I have NO IDEA.

Sometimes I can open my WIP and write, while other times I open it and then leave it open in the background while I avoid looking at it and waste time checking my emails then filling my shopping cart with items that I will never actually buy.

Sometimes I fiddle with my WIP and end up with LESS WORDS than I started with.

Ugh. Now, that doesn't count at all does it?

At the moment, writing is HARD WORK. It feels like it takes EFFORT. It doesn't flow easily, and I need to remind myself of the most important piece of advice: "Just write the f*ing book".

But, you know what? Maybe sometimes, "just write the f*ing book" looks a lot like NOT writing the freaking book. It looks like avoiding going near the stinking book. It looks like just thinking about the bloody book. It looks like talking about the book, or talking about how I'm not writing the book. It looks like cleaning the toilet and a negative word count. But if i'm thinking about the book, then it is still working on the book, right?

This is why social media, online shopping, reading the news, and checking emails is NOT productive. These things keep my brain busy and occupy my thoughts, leaving no space for thinking about writing (or not writing).

Uhhh okay... That's all I've got. This is me NOT writing my book, but it is me thinking about how I am NOT writing my book, which is me kinda working on my book. I think. Maybe.

Maybe not.

If you see me, I give you permission to give me a gentle kick in the backside and tell me to get back in my hole and WRITE MY FRICKING BOOK!!!!

Much love,

Marley xx

The Sitter - A writing exercise

Capturing a moment. Following the thoughts. Unedited. Fun times.

Facing the window, she sits, looking at the mist lingering between trees in her line of sight. Sunlight streams in through the window and lands on the floor, missing any part of her body, warming only wood, fabric, varnish, and some plasticky sort of rug. She looks up through the grimy window and notices the torn flyscreen, useless to do the job for which it has been made. Its only purpose now, is to further obstruct her view.

She can see toys on the ground, a book, a stray pillow, a plastic bag. Remnants of her children as they go about their day out of the home while she awaits their return, wasting time with useless words and watching the sun from the shade, wishing to feel its warmth.

She becomes aware of the feeling of her clothing on her skin, the weight of the blanket on her body, the glasses on her nose, and the hairs and threads gleaming in the sunlight on the empty couch across the room. Space for the absent children. She wonders what they are doing as she wriggles her feet and scratches her head, aware of things that she should be doing. Instead, she strikes keys with her fingers and breathes the air in her house, while the weight of her body presses into the couch through her buttocks.

Her nails are uneven. Some are rough, some longer than others, one missing a corner. They need to be trimmed. So do her toenails. She thinks about toenails and how gross it must be to read anything too lengthy written about them, only a brief observation of their existence is acceptable, nobody wants to acknowledge how dirty they get underneath, all stinky and fluffy. Toenails are disgusting. She wrinkles her nose at the thought of a foot fetish and wonders how her mind turned to thoughts of feet.

Refocus on the trees through the window. Bright green leaves droop and wave towards the ground while red stems connect them to brown branches and blackened trunk. The top of the tree can send messages into the ground. Electrical signals. Water. Nutrients. Trees speak to Mother Earth, and bugs, and give off pheromones that travel through the air and communicate with others that never even make a physical connection. She read a book about that once, and she writes words about how she read a book about it once as she gets stuck in a thought loop.

She brushes a hair off the keyboard and scratches her eye. How did the hair get there? From her head? Another person's head? Did it float through the air like the tree pheromones, or drop from the sleeve of her jacket?

Moments and thoughts are messy and neverending, and she thinks about how words don't seem to do them justice.

What can you see in your moment? Where does your brain take you?

Much love,

Marley x

P.S. I write books. Find them HERE