Thursday 28 March 2013

Plot.

My boy is vegging out watching the Voyage of the Dawn Treader (the recent one with the good graphics, not the old one that reminds me of being five. He is Reepiceep, in case you were wondering. But I'm okay with that, because Reepiceep is badass) so I thought I should blog some more, because I love nothing more than the sound of my own voice. Or the sight of my words on the screen, or something. They're about to take on the sea serpent in the mist, so I may be slightly distracted.

It's post 20 (happy 20th post!) so I thought I should maybe actually talk about the book (or books) that I'm writing. Consider it me practicing for a blurb or promotional piece for approaching agents, should I decide that's what I still want to do.

I've always planned for it to be a series of seven. Not because I'm money hungry, just because it makes sense for the content.

It's told from two view points, the main characters in the piece. From what I can see on Goodreads, people find this slightly annoying, but it's a device I want to use because trying from one stand point, I realised a lot of the plot happened away from the narrator. When I tried third person, I couldn't get the emotions that the characters were feeling, couldn't convey that back in my writing. Each character gets a different chapter, and for the most part they alternate so it's not as confusing as it could have been.

The first narrator is a girl, called Lambrini (I'm sure I mentioned this in an early post. I will not be flexible on her name, even though it must sound strange the first time people hear it. For any non-English readers, Lambrini is a fairly cheap perry over here, and is more aimed at younger women. I kinda like the peach flavour. Picture below) who comes from England. Her family decide to move over to the US, which is pretty much the first scene, and it quickly becomes apparent that something bad has happened in the UK to lead them to move overseas. From her viewpoint, the story is about learning to deal with the mistakes of the past, and not avoiding them but coming to a point where she can find peace. At that point, she'll be a stronger girl, who'll grow into a strong woman. The story is basically an overcoming adversity story for her (add in cross-Atlantic puns and the whole new-girl genre).


The second character who narrates is a boy called Carter, who becomes her neighbour when she arrives in America. He's one of many boys (I realise this sounds a bit like the Weasleys, or the Cullens, but on top of my two brothers and sister, I have three half-siblings and two step-siblings. I know big families better than Rowling or Meyer. No offence meant, but you are meant to write what you know, right?) and despite that, he's very forthright and vocal. He's pretty moralistic, and he has certain ways of looking at life, he just seems sour to most people because those ideals aren't always supported. For him, the story is about letting go of expectations a little so that you can let better things into your life.

So you may wonder how exactly I can tie those stories together, right? They learn pretty early on that by being a support system for each other, they can help each other get to the point in life where they are happy, and achieving whatever they want. The story starts when they're fifteen and they meet, and ends when they're twenty-five. I don't plan on writing every moment of their lives, but I hope by the time it gets to the end, those who stick through it with me agree that it's at the point it should be. Along the way there's death, marriage, other friends, the whole question of visa's, dissecting abuse ... it reads a little like The Casual Vacancy in that it's more of a social dissection, but it's also a series on friendship and relationships.

At the moment, the working title for the first book is Uprooted (because Lambrini is uprooted from her home, and her way of life, from her friends etc) and I've been working on this thing since 2005 ... I always wanted flower analogies but with the birth of Twilight, I'm no longer sure. I probably will anyway, because they suit the way Lambrini and Carter go through adolescence into adulthood, but we'll see. I'm only a third of the way through the second book right now as it is.

Btw, would love feedback from anyone about the content of my work. Whether you'd read it or what you do or don't like about the outline, or anything. Anyone can comment, you know ;)

Publishing

Okay, so I read a couple of blogs, like the Superficial and one my high school friend writes, as well as Jenny Trout's and a few that people have posted on there.

One is by Alys Cohen (hey Alys, if you followed the link on your blog) and her latest post brings up an interesting point, and one I've been debating for the year so far.

Now, you don't know it because I didn't put it on here yet, but instead of making a New Years Resolution, I made a promise to the world instead. That this was the year I get published, or start the process (okay, what I actually said was 'this is the year I get the agent') and reading her blogpost has made me think on what it is I want.

Because agents right now? They're only really taking what's already popular. If I had written a story of a girl who fell for a rich asshole, I would be published by now.

I don't know girl-falling-for-rich-asshole. I know mixed-up-girl-becoming-independent. I know cross-Atlantic. I know fierce, self-assured.

So what are the real options out there for an idea that, though it has its niche, is slightly different from all the other storylines in it's genre? Authorhouse, where I pay for the privilege of seeing my name on a book spine? This review site I found, where if I don't pay I can wait six months for some feedback? Fanstory, where you have to pay for more than two reviews (which were really beneficial 'yeah, it's okay' ... thank you, I feel much better about my writing) or to hell with it and self-publish, and self-promote? Or get rejection after rejection until I feel like I couldn't write if there was a pen in my hand and a notebook in front of me?

I sound bitter, I know. Part of me thinks that if you don't get the rejections until you get published, then you haven't earned any of the kudos your work can bring (yeah, I have issues, if you haven't got that already in this blog) but then another part of me wonders when the hell I would ever get published, or if I ever would, by going the traditional route. The traditional route is not the guaranteed way of success, Erika James has proved that.

I guess I just wish I knew for sure which route would work best for me. Which route would reach my market best. Whether what I've done is really ready for consumption (I think my main problem with this is my story's structure, and the fact that one of my narrators is an American male and I'm very much not. I would love someone who could speak like an American teenage boy to read through and tell me where I'm going wrong without ruining the storyline before it went anywhere. I don't want to make some of the mistakes that are evident in Ana Steele's language).

This has to be the debate most people go through, right? A friend of a friend recently got published, but I don't know much about it. Another friend of a friend released an ebook (which I bought, because at the end of the day, if newly published writers don't support each other, who else is going to?) so I know both possibilities are open. I'm just so indecisive.

By the way, if the people who I know read this wanted to go onto either blog:

http://alysbcohen.wordpress.com/
http://jennytrout.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=47e909f72dd2174

Both are slightly more eloquent than me. And I love Jenny's dissection of 50 shades. I have to go now though, my son's being sent home with a stomach ache. Poor Pickle.

Essex Girls

I bought a book today, in the "local books" section of our nearby supermarket (that shop has pretty much everything. Cinnamon buns, junior mints, apple jacks, haribo ... and rude staff. But also, self-serve so screw them) that's called "Essex Girls". It's not one of those trashy books where people write about the Sugar Hut and Essex live they've lived TOWIE (no one I know would go anywhere near that cattle market), instead it's about famous women in history who're from Essex or lived in Essex. Like Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth I. Like Boudicca.

I haven't read it yet, but it's full of how while the rest of the world repressed women, Essex women were too busy being kick-ass and owning land and ruling a good chunk of the world. Totally going to be an empowering book, and I will blab on about it later, once I've read it. If I ever force myself to the end of the Scarlet Letter (I don't understand, it's a decent book with a good message, why can I not commit to this book?) ... it's short right, what the hell is my problem?

Wednesday 27 March 2013

lousy

That's how I feel right now.

I couldn't get to sleep last night and had to be up early today so of course today is the day I feel more achy than normal. I'm awake but my brain feels sluggish so win.

I'm still doing an okay job considering I haven't done some things before that I've had to do today. But I still look half asleep:/

I'm lazy typing this on my phone lol only typed half these letters. Windows phones are amazing!

Tuesday 26 March 2013

Oh, my God.

So my friend Cat posts this picture on facebook from a link she found.

And the comments on the link are baffling. Some people think all these images are asking for it, or the fact that women have breasts, or by speaking of the women who are the majority of rape victims you are being feminist and therefore not listening to well-reasoned men (who support the idea that any of the above images must be asking to be sexually abused, so very well reasoned indeed).

I just ... really? Everyone, everyone, is using the example of a girl going for a night out and getting drunk, then being down some dark alleyway. My posts are largely being ignored because I'm thinking out of the rape-in-the-dark box. The following, I believe, are also rape:

-A husband forcing his wife into sex, because of his misguided views on what marriage vows are actually saying (you are mine, you are my property, I want it so it's happening). This was outlawed in the Victorian Era. Since the 1800's, raping your spouse is a crime that can justify divorce. For around two hundred years. Why has the attitude to this not changed?

-A boy who is dealing with his sexuality, who admits as much to a close friend, who then announces it to their peers, who then is attacked by homophobic boys so he "has a taste" of what it is he thinks he likes. I don't think he likes abuse, just love with another man. You are not giving him love, you are abusing him.

-Anyone in the prison system labelled as "currency" or whatever other sick term it is. I hate the justification of "we're locked up for years, we need some". Now, I'm not someone who encourages prison inmates to rot on basics, I understand the need for humanity despite a criminal's clear lack of it. I will always try to show I'm better than someone else with love rather than hate (if you yell at me in my store, I will be pleasant and apologetic and make you look like an ass). I do feel like prisoners need some restrictions beyond the bars, and I think those who patrol our jails do the best they can. However, even prisoners don't deserve to live in fear of objectification and attack, and those committing these crimes should have years added onto their sentences, like "Oh, you were up for parole but then you raped the guy in C-96 so now you have to wait an additional two years".

-Teenagers, trying to get a feel for the change in circumstance from innocent kiss to full sex. That's a freaking minefield, and if the person you're with at any time shows they are not comfortable in anyway, you stop. If you care more about the act than the person, you're doing it with the wrong person. Leave the relationship.

-Anyone drunk.

-Anyone drugged.

-Anyone unconscious.

-Children and disabled people too lacking in knowledge to know either what's happening or what they're agreeing to. I remember in junior school, people went around and asked "are you a virgin?" then laughed whatever your answer was. We were 7-11, the answer is, and should always be a resounding no, even if they're not understanding what they're making fun of.

Just ... the amount of victim-blaming in our culture is astounding. I asked what age this 'she was asking for it by wearing that' starts for people, because I'm sure most people picture someone my age (mid twenties to early thirties) but what about that thirteen-year-old who gets called a slut because they knew she had sex but had no idea of the circumstances (oh what, am I talking about my book again? Yeah, that's right, my book is a hotbed)  or about that twenty-year-old who lives in tracksuits who was accidentally killed in a sex attack? What about that fat girl, that anorexic, that ugly person, I mean, they should be grateful someone's bothering to look their way, right? What about cross-dressers and transgenders? Do they deserve it because they make people uncomfortable because they go against societal norms (that make them feel happy and whole)?

You know why I think no one has answered me? Because they know when you open up this sort of dialogue, there is no other answer. That's why they stick to the stereotype present in the smallest minority of cases. That way, there's a reason they can understand. She wore next to nothing, she wanted to have sex. That way, no one has to look into the attackers motivations, or why their sexual urges override someone elses wishes about their own body. That way, life as they know it can stay the same, and the next time their girlfriend or boyfriend has to be convinced to sleep with them, they can rest easy knowing that they didn't just commit a crime.

Someone on Jenny Trout's blog (Jenny, we should so hang out, just FYI) said that rather than preaching 'no means no' (because how often do people shout out "no, no, no, YES!") we should preach about 'the enthusiastic yes'. The yes that comes from a sound, sober, confident person who wants what is communicated and has no other conflict or encouragement. An unconscious person can't say no, but they can't say yes either. That then makes it definitely rape. Then the justice system has to honour the victim, and make them comfortable. Do you know how clinical and invasive the body search can be on a victim as police ask for evidence? Add in the ridicule and disbelief many victims (and unfortunately, just the few who come forward) get and they may as well be getting raped again. That HAS to change.

Oh, update, someone posted about slutty girls obviously are asking for it. Like women can be categorised into women and sluts and whores. Where do you draw the line on who is and isn't promiscuous, and therefore deserves to be violated?

And to finish, I will post these everywhere if it helps get the message across, the Home Office videos aimed at teenagers (25% of who, in the UK, are victims of sexual abuse) to recognise when their behaviour is tantamount to physical violence and rape (and for the record, the middle one, the one where he grabs her hair? I know in the storyline she gave in and slept with him. Coercion. Rape).

 
 
 
 
 
**edit** someone on this thread has said they can't believe my comments get likes. I can't believe he's allowed on the planet, but I have to make allowances. Leads me to believe he's realised my comments point the finger at him ("come on baby, don't stop now, you said you wanted to, don't be a pricktease") but eh, that's his problem, not mine.
 
 
**another edit** I've stopped reading on there. It's too sad seeing all these men congratulate themselves because they can't see how raping a woman in skimpy clothes is akin to raping a child because you've taken away their right to argue for what they want. I just told them when rape happens in their lives, to their spouses or their loved ones, I hope the attacker gets screwed in court. They are so typical of the root of the problem.

Oh, and ...

... I was right. About the Scarlet Letter. I don't quite get what's going on with the whole demon-thing with the doctor and the priest, but the priest totally banged the doctor's wife when he was in Amsterdam and now the doctor's seeking revenge.

But, you know, in more floral language than that. I'm barely more than halfway through this book already either, so the rest of it must be about Pearl.

Money, money, money

I hate talking about money, in general, but I feel like right now, I should.

I know it sounds weird, saying I hate talking about money when my job includes an obligation to control cash flow, but when I discuss work's money, it doesn't feel the same. Maybe because it feels more like a maths project or a word problem and I'm all up in those.

Just ... since when is it the be all and end all for some people? Why is the amount of money a person has a personal attribute and a sign of their attractiveness to some people? Why is money such a focus?

Sometimes, and I can't be alone in this, but sometimes I wish we had the trade systems that existed in the bronze age. You know, I grow wheat and you raise chickens so I'll trade you a bushel for a chicken and six eggs. Like the Swap Shop way back before I was born, where you could trade your My Little Pony collection for someone's Gameboy (as long as your MLP collection was substantial. Like 6 horses, the castle, and all the brushes and crap that came with them).

But no, instead I can get a flat screen 50" television by handing over a pile of green, orange, purple and red coloured bits of paper, or even better, swiping a bit of plastic through a bit-of-plastic sized gap in a bigger bit of plastic.

What is the appeal of money? Am I just sounding stuck up? I mean, I've been in a position before where I ran out of the stuff at university, and spent three weeks only eating porridge made with water. I had a bowl a day (but if my mother accidentally stumbles across this blog, it was only a week, just like I told you, that's how long I ended up starving). Now, this happened because of a paperwork mix up which meant my last loan installment was cancelled, but I suddenly had £600 in tuition fees to pay extra, and only about £700 in my overdraft. £100 left to last me for four months ... If not for that mix up, I could have handled my incomings vs outgoings better. I'm pretty amazing at doing that, because it's maths to me. I love numbers. 6+7 always equals 13, you know? 55378008 is the funniest number I can think of for a calculator.

I mean, I earn an okay amount. After bills and appeasing the five-year-old I feel I barely see, I have enough to buy some snacks for after work, and some cheap books on my kindle, and my strange addiction to the sims. But on my days off, I stay at home and write. On days I go in late, I might buy breakfast, and read while I eat, then come home and write until it's time to get ready. My petrol bill is maybe £50 for a month which seems impressive but I live a five minute drive from work, which is around the corner from my son's school.

But I would gladly give up work, if not for my bills, to concentrate on making my son a tolerable teenager and then adult. I could concentrate more on my writing, maybe even make it a career. It's the obligation to the bills that keeps me in employment. That's not a bad thing, it makes me motivated and keeps my brain working. Therefore, I like my work (though I hate some of the challenges) and except for some moral dilemmas, I probably won't leave.

That's probably true for so many people. Okay, it'd be nice to be able to have the occasional night out, but for me these days that's dinner with friends and home. I haven't been out drinking for about a year (and I honestly don't miss it, with my health problems, alcohol can knock me out) and I know for a lot of people, a Friday Night means going out, having a good time, crawling into bed early Saturday with the promise of a hangover and a fry up.

So why is money still such an issue? Why is it such a crime if the government takes 20% from everyone's wages, to the point where they have a tiered system so the more you earn the more tax you pay? You can bitch about the price of taxes all you want, but when you damage your car on a pothole, or that traffic light doesn't work, or you need a police or army presence ... remember how you bitched about those taxes. Remember how grudging you felt about contributing to the price of that police officer's wages (and how they're struggling to pay for childcare and therapy for all the things they've seen, on top of rent and bills and food) and remember how filling that pothole actually costs less than the damages to your car.

Why do books focus on it so intensely? The Cullens in Twilight have "enough spare cash stashed around the house to equal the GDP of a small nation" (spare cash, indeed). Christian Grey in 50 Shades is a Billionaire at 27 (with fairly shoddy business practices). The characters in Kate Brian's Private series and spin-off are all children of Millionaires and Billionaires (the main character is a scholar case, until she finds out she's the half-sister of her Billionairess friend. Conveniently making her rich too). Mills and Boon is full of aristocrats ... even I'm guilty of it. I chose a location in my book where you have to be rich, I chose a family who were wealthy enough to make a cross-Atlantic move (one of the criteria for living in America as an immigrant is having over a million dollars, it was a justification of how they could move so easily over). But why, why does money have to be a factor?

And why does money drive people to act unethically? What could make someone think 'there's five pounds. I know it's not my five pounds, but I want five pounds and it's there'? How can you justify going 'that's money and I want money so I'm taking money even though taking money is unethical and a crime'? Why do people not communicate more? "I need more money as I haven't worked my finances out properly yet I can't get a bank loan and I am terrified of the substantial APR of a payday loan, can you please help me before I get in further trouble?" because if someone I cared about was in that position I would do something. Like when I was broke, and eating a bowl of porridge a day and going through all those problems I mentioned before, and then my friend sent me a care package. In that package were wooden roses, crisps and chocolate. She'd written "I can't give you money, but you shouldn't forget the taste of chocolate" in her note. I didn't want her money, but her support meant everything. But even if they needed fifty quid from me, I would do that for someone I love, and I probably wouldn't expect it back, not unless my balances depended on having it back by a certain time.

People I work with marvel at the fact that I go to America every year, more or less. I went twice last year, but I won't this year and didn't the year before. They can't see how I can afford it, but I have a few tricks - buying plane tickets early, either using my parents timeshare, or else going to websites that have apartment homeshares (it's what my friends and I did to stay in New York. That whole trip cost us £700 each for flights and accomodation. Some hotels couldn't even give us that for the week). I used to use STA which gives discounts for under 26 year olds (currently, I believe you can get a round-the-world trip for £900. I used them in 2005 and got a flight-and-hotel deal for New York for £300 each for me and a friend. You can't even fly and stay in Greece for that. Yes, we stayed in the YMCA and it was gross, but for that cheap ...) it's not about the price, it's about making things work with what's available, doing the research and going for the kill. Like, my older sister will wait until something she wants is on discount and then bulk-buys. At the ASDA toddler-and-baby event, she bought a wall of nappies and wipes for her son (when he was still in her womb), recently her husband's favourite hot chocolate was on offer for 1kg tubs, so she bought nine. Maybe my mum just taught us right.

I mean, I remember (just about) being seven, and all into the Quints, these five babies in barbie-doll style. They brought out Quints Cousins, which were these triplets who looked after the Quints like babysitters, and I wanted them. They cost £4, and I got 75p a week pocket money. I remember going up to my parents and saying 'if you give me 25p of my pocket money for the next four weeks, then can I get the dolls, and carry on getting 25p until they're paid off?' I was negociating loans for what I wanted at the age of seven (and still having enough for penny sweets). They said yes, by the way. But I had the foresight even then of thinking within my means and working out how to get what was outside those means into something achievable. Why is this sort of thing not taught more often?

Someone I work with got caught taking money from a till the other day. It was in the office and they went in and helped themselves, not thinking about the CCTV that's aimed directly at the desk. You can tell who it is clearly (we recently got an upgrade on the CCTV, it's like HD. Someone who has barely worked with this person could identify them) and it's someone I trusted to pretty much help run an area of the store. It's someone who refuses to use tills, who has little to do with them. Someone who was in the running for a promotion. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut all night, and the crew were asking for details and I couldn't say anything. I had to sit in the suspension meeting, and this person is getting fired today. The other managers are saying the same things I was (I feel sick, what a c*nt, etc etc. I really hate that word, but it felt justified, we all trusted and liked this guy) when we were in a meeting yesterday (a pretty hard meeting for me, I woke up at 9am on Sunday, left work at 10am on Monday after the night shift, slept for two hours and then came in for it) and the atmosphere is just horrible. Because this has been going on for months, money and phones and stuff going missing, and he's been in the building when those incidents happened. I think we're all being pissed off, we didn't get to management without a certain amount of intuition and quick thinking. He was way down the list of people we'd suspect. We were at the start of an investigation for this missing money and I'd given a statement to our boss (since I was on shift when it may have happened, then left before it was noticed) and he was watching the CCTV and saw it ... I don't think even he believed it.

I was in the room twice when it got shown, the first time was for me and the police officer who works with us part-time (she was giving our boss advice on possibility of prosecution, so a nice soundtrack to accompany the kick in the crotch) but the second time, I couldn't lift my head. I trusted them, I liked them, this person being on the shift was a sign of a good shift, and I just feel sick with the idea that money is so Goddamn important that people can just take it because it's there. How can you risk your job, your life, a criminal conviction, for a few measly quid? I'm so glad today is my day off, because I couldn't watch him get fired too, or arrested, or whatever may happen today. I feel like I trust far too many people far too easily, and I was so sure my intuition could pick this sort of thing up. I hate second guessing myself, and I'm sure all the other managers feel the same way. I hate that the crew who were on with me Sunday when they got sent home kept telling me there must have been some mistake (they didn't know about the CCTV, or what the person was suspected of stealing, just that he was suspended for theft) and all I could do was say that our boss would have his reasons.

I woke up thinking about it this morning. It's going to play on my mind for a long time.

Monday 25 March 2013

That is so not grool.

First up, shut up iPad, grool is a word, Lindsay Lohan said it in her only decent movie. And I just typed pnl or something and it automatically went to only. You're messed in the head, iPad.

I digress, it's been a long night. One of the shittiest work nights of my life.

Just ... I can't say too much here, because there's legal crap involved, but sometimes, my job is so not worth it. Witnessing what I did made me feel sick (it wasn't graphic, sorry. But I am deeply questioning trust issues and human nature right now) and I just don't get it.

Awesome factoid, I work with a part-time police officer, who also works for us part time. We used to have two, but the other guy died of cancer (sad times. Crappy cancer). Anyway, certain people should remember accessing the police is as easy as turning to the person next to me. I just ... There aren't words. Why would you destroy so much of your life on something that seems trivial at first but then ... and everyone trusted them. Everyone. Why would you put other people in the firing line for what little it may seem you're doing?

Alls I know is, shit is going to go down tomorrow. And I might actually puke. Sorry if this post makes no sense, maybe after tomorrow I can explain further.

Sunday 24 March 2013

It's maybe a little bit of a girl crush.

I totally stole this from Jenny's blog *I live there, thanks for asking* but I kinda like it. It's like an author's chain letter without the threat of some dead girl sucking my brains out if I don't pass it on. I think she must be the ghost of the ISP or something, to know where I am or which of my many siblings must have read her story and not blasted everyone I know with it. I digress:

The Rules:

Go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript

Go to line 7

Post on your blog or Facebook page the next 7 lines, or sentences, as they are – no cheating

Tag 7 other authors to do the same.

And here are my seven lines:
 
'So, nice quiet day without Fearn?' Thomas checked as we sauntered along.
'Guys, don't be mean,' Becki protested, turning to give me the stink eye like I'd said it or something. 'She's new and she's probably scared. You could try being nice. She should sit with us at lunch.'
'Isn't that like eating with wallpaper paste? Same personality.' I shrugged. Her mouth gaped open as I pushed through into the Chem lab. Fearn had pulled the new girl into the seat next to her, now gabbing about cheerleaders. She caught my eye as I passed, and I thought I saw a little spark there. Like she's trying not to laugh about how forward Fearn is and I'm somehow in on the joke with her.
So, there you go. Extra points if you can tell, without having previously read, who that narrator might be. And I don't mean names, because obviously the narrator hasn't been given, but age, gender, race ... I'm interested to know. Thankfully, it's only an excerpt that needs minimal editing, as far as I can see from that. Also, I only know a few people who write either as a hobby or for fun, so I won't pass it along, just share it with you.
 
Thanks Jenny, you just keep on giving ;)
 
 
**disclaimer: extra points work like ManPoints, there are no prizes for guessing correctly**

Thursday 21 March 2013

I wish I may, I wish I might ...

Okay, so complete confession time (nah, not like that, you may be disappointed now) - I want to change jobs.

It's not a huge confession, I've been handing my CV out since I started working at a well known American owned fast food restaurant (Mmmm, notice how I didn't say which company it was?)

It's not a completely bad company to work for. I'm not here to slag it off, or say I wish I never worked for them. The things that make me want to leave are little things, but it's actually really hard to find a job these days that'll give me what I want. And what I actually want from a job?

-decent hours that coincide with my son's school. So majority 9-5 Monday to Friday. Right now, I am doing evening and nights Wednesday - Sunday. Monday's are sleep-days (I work overnight Sundays) so I get one day with him. One freaking, stinky, lousy day. And he's at school 6 hours of that. So our rare Saturdays together I'm like "what do I do with you?" which isn't the most motherly thought in the world.

-steady hours as well. So if the work day is 9-6 I work from 9am until 6pm. Not like I currently am, where that then ends up being 8.30am - 8pm or whatever ridiculous shift it ends up being. There's no need for it. I don't mind overtime in the sense that it's been negociated beforehand, but it's actually ridiculous being expected to stay. Add the overtime to how often I see my son.

-a job where I won't get called in, even on my holiday, because someone else is sick. I did a Monday overnight after two weeks off, but that meant I didn't see my son at all that week. I actually got followed by someone else at work to be asked, from my house into town, despite seeing this woman at the school gate an hour before and having a conversation where I said I'd be at a meeting in a few hours time. What the actual hell, right?

-to be treated like an adult. I'm 28, the days of being treated like I've broken a rule because my hair is down or put nail varnish on or wore a ring should be over. I know it's about food safety, I get that, but I've had 8 years of stubby nails and ears repierced five weeks a year and hair that's hurting my head because it's always in a bun to go under my hat. I don't want to face a warning because I failed on one account (I mean, I haven't had one because rules intimidate me in the stupidest way, but there's potential. And you read that right, I'm intimidated by rules. Like, as a manager I'm entitled to eat whatever the hell I want whenever the hell I want on shift. I have the same, or less, than the crew. I felt like a rebel yesterday because I had a cheeseburger on shift, then took nuggets and mozzarella sticks home. What a greedy bitch, right?).

I like the idea of working on a computer a lot as well, rather than being all over the place, risking burns and papercuts from boxes. You shouldn't go to work and be unsurprised by first degree burns.

My friend Cat has an awesome sounding job. They're hiring right now. I applied last time, and although I made the first shortlist, I didn't make the next. So I'm really hoping I go further this time. If I got it, I could put my son in breakfast club again, drop him there, go to the station, get the train, work however long, come home, put him to bed, and see him most weekends. It's a pretty simple dream, right? And then I can work on my books in the evenings. I could wear Joe Browns every day if I wanted, I wouldn't have neck scarves covered in milkshake and bleach and mustard. I could wear nice flats instead of shoes encrusted in grease.

I really want to work with Cat too, to see someone I care about every day rather than people I sort of know and can get on with but don't have a bond with otherwise, and we can cinnabon it up (because she's the only other person I know who loves cinnabon).

On another level, I still get incredibly tired from TTP, even though it's almost been five years since I had it. I may never not be tired. Doing shift work leaves an ache that I just can't seem to get rid of, and regular hours means regular sleep, means I might somehow start to escape that feeling that never leaves my muscles, ever.

I really, really, want this job.

nmb,nvkjbngfrdjkbdvbfjkbgf

My title explains, in depth, how I feel about my writing right now.

I just ... the timeframe's there, the storyline's there, the characters are there.

Why am I not? I'm trying to write as I type this and I've deleted about as much as I've written. I keep meaning to edit the first version as well, but my brain is sitting there laughing at me for that idea and I can't edit with all the laughing (stupid brain).

Okay, the real problem is this - I have two main characters who alternate first person, recent-past tense narration, which is a strange enough way to write anyway. Anyway, so at the end of the first part, they were separated, and I'm almost at the point where they're reunited. But they can't reunite just yet, but the bit just before actually kind of bores me. So I'm bored of myself. Ugh.

But I don't want to rush it, or add a load of shit that doesn't need to be written so I'm driving myself nuts over this. I may just say fuck it and do a God awful transition, I'm amazing at those.

Sorry this is so short, I just wanted to rant my way into semi-rationalising whatever I did next in the storyline. I maybe even tell you what the storyline is, one of these days!

Tuesday 19 March 2013

By proxy ...

(I swear, I'll get back to writing about how rubbish other people are at English, while being rubbish myself soon)

... I just want to get people's opinions on something. It may seem small, but it bugs me a whole bunch. Now you have a little back story, you'll probably go 'ah, this is why!'. Not exactly.

So, when I got promoted at work, I got handed a neat little factoid that should not be in existence. As a girl, in a position of power at work, I cannot claim sexual harrassment from anyone below me. This stems more from the fact that as a manager, I should be suspending crew members left, right and centre, before their behaviour gets to a point where I could claim that.

Right now, I want to claim it regardless of the fact I'm a manager. I feel like I have to do it anonymously, because of the management thing.

There's this guy at work. He's skeevy, completely skeevy. When he first joined, he seemed like a hard worker, like he got what the job involved when he walked into the store (rather than those people who think this job is hella easy and then realise that to do anything, you need to know temperature settings of equipment and the reasons behind procedures etc etc) and people were pretty happy with him. I'm a pretty simple manager, you do a good job and we get on well, you do nothing and I am the monkey on your back.

He broke up with his girlfriend a few months into working with us (the girl he'd coerced into having a kid. Nice) and oh, my God. He stopped working as hard, half my shift became Find Where He Is And Why He Thinks He's Getting Paid For Doing Jack Shit (which then meant I was there a couple extra hours catching up on my own damn work, so thank you) and when he was on the floor he would not shut up about what a bitch she is, how it's unfair he doesn't see his daughter all the time, blahblahblah (when he's not in, other crew will joke about the girlfriend, I may let the verbal bullying happen).

There was one time, a few months ago, he was on our office phone, talking to her about seeing her kid - while getting paid for it - and he said something along the lines of 'I only threatened you with a knife because you won't let me see my daughter' - he did this in front of his daughter, it turned out. I felt sick, just overhearing that. This guy should be investigated, that's abuse. You have an obligation as a parent not to expose your child to threatening behaviour. Well done dickhead.

You may wonder how this leads to me wanting to put in a complaint. Know how I said I have to chase him to make him do his fucking work? He says things when I chew him out that can be totally construed as harrassment. Like, I've tried appealing to his better nature (on a night shift "Look, I need to know where you are, if there's a fire I have an obligation to knowing where all the crew are. I have that responsibility") and I get shit back ("If there was a fire, I'd take off my top, grease myself up and get you out.")

That was, verbatim, his response. When I was done fighting the vomit that threatened at these words, I tried to logically explain to him that grease would do shit in that scenario.

At the start of the year, he did the disappearing act again. I found him on the phone, having a cigarette outside the back gate (strike one, he was late and claimed his phone didn't work. Strike two, that gate MUST be locked past 9pm for safety. Since I was the one with the access to our safe, I really didn't appreciate being endangered so he could breath in cancer. We do have a system for smokers at night where they exit through the front, where the CCTV is and we can keep an eye on them. So breaking two features set in place. Strike three, he hadn't clocked out. Strike four, he was my only till. Strike five, I had just bollocked him for sneaking out for a fag, and told him to Stay In Place, which is an actual thing at my store and not me treating him like a dog. He had come to me five minutes before this incident to ask for another fag and I had reasonably told him no, then expounded the reasons why. Strike six, he was discussing his love life, because that's more important than work when you're at work.) and I sent him home, then wrote an essay in the managers diary as to why I'd suspended him without pay. He told the other members of the crew he'd been discussing his child, because she was sick (funny, "I ain't going out with her, we're just seeing each other" doesn't sound like something you'd say in regards to your daughter) and I was being a bitch. He hasn't been in the store with me longer than an hour since.

You'd think that would put my mind to rest, wouldn't you? My superiors know that his behaviour upsets me and I cannot work with him. Nope, because in that hour? In that hour he keeps up the verbal crap, and how every time I direct him as a manager (this is procedure because ...) I must be coming onto him. Every time I say no, that's gross; I must be denying my desires.

And then there's the touching. He touches my back, my shoulders, my arms. Okay, that's harmless, but here's the line that gets crossed - I tell him not to. I say that the first time. I'm direct about it (I don't like being touched, don't touch me, I feel sick when you do that) and he carries on. He calls me darling, which again, seems harmless, but I've said to him as well, I'm your manager, I'm not your darling, if you have to call me something, call me by my name. Nope, I am darling.

Once I had the headsets for our drive thru on. A car of drunk girls came through, having a laugh. Great, happy for them. He then serves them, joining in and making crass impressions to flirt. Not at work, you freak, does he not realise he's representing the company and he's making the company seem like filthy old men? He once held up drive thru, on a separate occasion, just to flirt with a girl. He's skeevy and I hate him. I was complaining to a crew member I trusted on Sunday when he touched me again, several times, and the crew member (who yes, I've hugged in the past, because for me, you can touch me when I trust you) said the guy in question did it because he knew it got to me.

Hello? How is that an excuse to constantly invade someone's personal space and demean them constantly?

Am I just being over-sensitive? I hate the clause that says my position takes away my right to my body. I am so close to complaining about him, regardless.

A really unpleasant topic


So, not like I'm completely obsessed with her or anything, but I get emails with Jenny Trout's updates and I check my emails when I wake up on my iPad every morning. And her latest one touched upon the whole Football-player rape case and how societal perceptions actually back up the defence they put together about how they didn't even know it was rape because the girl had not said no ( You can read that here http://jennytrout.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/i-didnt-know-exactly-what-rape-was.html).

That touches a real nerve with me, for a few reasons. Like, back when I watched Hollyoaks (and as I plan on linking this to Jenny's blog in a comment, Hollyoaks is a soap in England geared towards teenagers, it comes on at 6.30pm after the Simpsons. Occasionally, with the darker storylines, they have to put it on at 10pm. It follows life in a small village in which a university is placed. I don't know why there's a university in a small village where there's only one pub, bar and nightclub, but there we go. No wonder there's so many murders in the programme, there's sod all to do), anyway, back when I watched Hollyoaks there was this awful storyline with this guy who drugged and then raped girls. He got his friend involved, and the moment I stopped watching was when they were raping twins in front of each other and not thinking anything except how wonderful it was they were finally having all this sex (yes, they were complete losers). Why put that into the world, Hollyoaks? I mean, yes it sparked debate but I don't know what the pro side of that debate would have exactly been.

I admit, I'm writing about rape, and it is an awkward thing to write about tastefully, without undermining actual victims. One of my main characters was raped (you can call it statutory, since she was thirteen, or you can call it intentional, since she was put into a compromising position by someone she trusted) and what I'm aiming for is to show how victims do blame themselves, because she does, but also that these people are people, they have aims and thoughts and feelings. I don't want to undermine the situation, or act like it can serve as part of a fairy tale, and I hope that comes across. But Jenny's post reminds me just how balanced you have to be in thinking how you would cope if someone took advantage of your body regardless of your expressed thoughts, and how the "no means no" culture doesn't work. Because how many times have you been in a situation where you say no but you really do mean yes? Someone who just gives up fighting isn't saying yes either (I know Jenny didn't mention it, though she came close with being worn down) it's them realising that you are stronger and you have no regard for their feelings and this is going to happen whatever they want.

You know what? The rest of this post is going to be pretty freaking personal. Don't read anymore if you're easily offended. And if you're a friend reading ... don't do what some people have done, and stop talking to me as a result of this.

I always thought, first of all, that it was weird how, in a new relationship, you negotiate your way to the first time you have sex. It happens, unless you're interested in one night stands or something, because you're taking an emotional connection and making it physical and yes, you do need to spell out what you do and don't like and compromise. It's no different from the other aspects of a relationship. But then the second time you sleep with your boyfriend/girlfriend, why is that a given? Why is the first time automatic consent to the next however many times? Maybe I just have weird sexual hang-ups since I'm not that big on it (or the only two people I've ever slept with in my entire life are the only two slightly disappointing people on the planet) but I just never got it. I said 'yes' once so that yes lasts for every occasion and not just once? I'm not saying there needs to be verbal agreements every time, but a proper understanding of the person you're sharing bodies with, that should happen.

And on a slightly darker level, rape has kind of been present in my life, for my whole life. From things that have been said by my mum, I'm not altogether sure I'm not the product of rape ("oh, we only wanted three children, and we got number four" - I'm number four, yes), and my biological dad did one of the most depraved things ever. I'm not very vocal about paedophilia, because it's just too much for me sometimes, but he raped my brothers and sister. The three they wanted. Apparently, when I came along my mum realised what he'd been doing, and divorced him before he could get to me too. You might think that's a wonderful thing to be, the only family member not raped by your own father, but it's horrible. First, my mother didn't tell me what had happened, my stepdad had to (I had passed my high school entrance exams, and was rubbing it in as kids do to my older brother, he hit me and my dad had to explain why he would be so pissed off, as if intelligence can be damaged by rape), second off, I was immediately told not to tell anyone, ever (oops), because my mum had a lot of pride in her decisions and my dad was clearly a Bad One (also, she's in a certain position in life which I won't go into, but she thinks it Looks Bad) when all I needed was to talk about it, to try and understand why at eleven, I was being thrown into a position where I had to understand absolutely everyone else in my family but no one would understand me and third, the really, really disgusting outcome of this kind of situation? I wished it happened to me. You read that right, there's no typo. I said that a few years ago in an argument and my stepdad stuck up for me, saying it was a common reaction actually (so thanks for that, because that was the first time I didn't ever feel alone in this situation, and it only took what, fourteen years?) - I just didn't want to feel different, or have the us vs you situation that came up so many times. I wanted my mum to not use "he was raped and you weren't" as an excuse for every bit of bad behaviour my brother indulged in. I wanted her to stick up for me because of what was happening at the time and not because of something I had no control over before I was even born. Of course I didn't want to go through what they went through, of course not, but I wanted her to remember that I wasn't there, that I couldn't be there, and that blaming me was not going to help. If it had happened to me to, I wouldn't have gotten the blame as much as I did. So it's not even the victim who gets blamed sometimes Jenny, it's the innocent bystander.

I know I sound bitter, and like I don't have a good relationship with my family. I have a complicated relationship with my family, but it's mainly a good one. It's just that there are some deep-seated issues that are never going to go away because we can't talk about it. Mum actually went for therapy a few years ago when things got really bad and it's been better since then, but there are still moments ... like, we'll go back to the "I was sick" bit (because I love kicking that when it's down), I had to get better, fast, because I had a baby to look after. I worked my ass off to be well enough to work again. And the brother I mentioned above? He stopped going to work, my mum said because he was so devastated by what happened to me (read the above and join me in a 'yeah, fucking right'). So I had to work my ass off to be able to once again provide for my son, seriously depleting the savings I'd been working on (I'd almost saved enough for a down payment on a mortgage) in order to provide for him in the mean time, I had to teach myself ways of tricking people into thinking I'm not mentally damaged by this (have two people talk different things at me at the same time, watch the glaze go over my eyes as NOTHING goes in. Or ask me something I'm not expecting, that shorts my brain out too) and it's okay for my brother to once again rely on the state because I had almost died? Does that make sense to anyone? I am bitter about things like that, how it then again always comes back to my biological father and how big a dick he is.

And coincidentally, friends who I've whored by blog out to, I went into this with someone we know. And she did the whole 'that sucks' bit without offering anything else. And then she told everyone we knew that her uncle had raped her. And I actually saw red (not just a description with artistic licence, my vision went so red I almost blacked out) - she had barely contributed to the private conversation we'd had, said nothing about how she had an intimate understanding of it when I just needed someone to understand, and then took her own pity party to you guys. I said some really unforgivable things at the time, but I stand by them. What we had been saying was private, and I thought I could trust her sense of empathy and what I thought was a close relationship, and she used it for her own pity party. I wasn't mad about what had happened to her (don't read that wrong, it's sick and depraved and I feel numb every time this situation rears its ugly head in any aspect of life because as you can probably tell, it's dominated a lot of my personal life, I'm saying that the rage I felt in this situation wasn't about her experience, but about her actions at the time of talking about it) but I was mad at her. So mad. If you think you know who I'm talking about then yes, this is how much worse she is than what you think. This is part of why I was going through such a bad patch at the time and left a place where I had previously felt safe, and loved, and understood in a way I hadn't in so long. She took that at that point in time. She is heinous. That's not me blaming a victim, that's me saying that she should have some understanding of how rape affects everyone involved, and even those who aren't, and she couldn't go there because it's all about her. For non-friends who wanted to read my two cents stuck on Jenny's thread, this girl is pretty fucking awful. She used to call me her best friend, and as you can see I'm pretty opinionated, but I try to come from a good place with it. She once asked me for advice, I gave it to her, and she started doing this sort of shit. Basically, her friends have to be yes-men and if you don't worship the ground she walks on, you won't last long. I went through a bad patch at university, the same one I'm referring to above, and one of my friends sent me a care package. It made me cry so bad, and I thanked her and said how wonderful she was to do it, and other people were also calling this friend wonderful. So the woman I've been talking to for most of this bit then starts whinging that we love this friend more than her, and why aren't we loving her as much, and no one else understands her. So you can see how I'm feeling, one person has seen me suffering and sent me a care package, and the other has seen me suffering and trashed my advice then used my pain for her own needs. But that's her all over.

So yes Jenny, society has a shit view on rape. Even the victims have a shit view. Even those who are blamed who have nothing to do with it. And when the fuck is that cycle ever going to end?

**I just want to edit and say, I know it looks there, despite what I said, that I'm blaming this girl when I should have been supporting her also, since she had gone through what my whole family had. It's not that I didn't empathise, or couldn't see her point. It's not that I ever thought she deserved what happened to her, because there's no way anyone deserves it. It's not that I thought because she had gone through it, and I had only been blamed by proxy, that I thought my situation was more important than hers. But I had opened a dialogue that was intense, that people don't discuss because I don't think people actually realise how much the blame gets passed on, when the only person to blame was the person whose actions caused it all. The rapist is the only person who needs the blame. I opened a dialogue with someone I trusted, and with everything she'd been through, you'd think we could have an open and frank discussion and come out stronger for that. She did something that I don't understand, she didn't share and seek understanding from someone who clearly could do that on an intimate level, she show-boated and left me hanging. She put a big fingers up to my trust, in order to use the ordeal to get more fawning from the people we knew. That's what made me angry, that it could have been a support system for the both of us. Do you know what she said when I finally tried talking to her about it? "I didn't want to stomp all over what you were telling me". I didn't want to stomp over what you were telling me.

Fuck you.

If there's one thing she absolutely guaranteed by her behaviour, it's that she ignored my feelings, in favour of her own, she turned that trust around for her own ends. Yes, she deserved sympathy, but why did she choose that time to tell everyone? Why turn a private conversation into a public parade? Because if I had then gone to any of my other friends and said what had happened, I'd be stealing her thunder and it's not like I had gone through it, and what kind of friend would I have been? That's what she was doing. What kind of person absolutely ignores a cry for help like that, especially with the experience they're saying they've had? I don't disbelieve her at all, her attitude to sex is something I've seen before in rape victims, but her behaviour as a friend is dispicable.

Monday 18 March 2013

Passive Reading

I have a few rants stored up from my interactions with those people at Goodreads. This one I touched upon on Saturday, and I knew I wanted to rant about it but I couldn't for the life of me remember the topic even as I was posting it (oh, brain damage, you tease!).

Remember how I said when I read a sentence as simple as someone going to the shops my brain will immediately start alongside my reading some backstory and running commentary and speculation (and I'll be judging grammar and use of language, but I didn't say that before) and that I get annoyed by simply being told something is good and bad without justification for why (I'm surprisingly okay once I get a 'because') well, I wanted to expand on that.

I consider these kinds of comments the antithesis of what I do, and I call it passive reading. It's not like passive smoking whereby someone else makes you smoke though you don't want to (thanks for sharing your cancer), but actually passive, that kind of blankness that makes me wonder if there's anything there.

Admittedly, most of these conversations happen when discussing 50 Shades of Grey, so it's not the best source material, but since the whole concept of 50 completely baffles me, I need logical thought behind all those pro- arguments. But what I get back is 'I liked it because it was good'.

What was good? The storyline? The storyline is pretty standard romance. The characters? Oh, please read Jenny Armintrout's blog, and Cassandra Parkin's ebooks. The kinky BDSM aspect? When you actually find BDSM and not abuse, hit me up, we'll discuss source material and hopefully you'll understand that kink is not a reward/punishment system for general behaviour. The language? Again, The blog and ebook. Jenny points out that the grammar is so bad, at one key kinky scene, it reads like Ana is giving Christian's father a handjob at a benefit. And "down there" makes me think of her feet. In Australia.

But I'm not here to trash 50, I could never be as hilarious as Cassandra or Jenny for a start, but that is basically my reaction to any book where I get that as an argument. Even books I like, I want to discuss bigger things. Like, I read Divergent and Insurgent recently, and the post I put up on Goodreads? It was about whether other readers considered divergency a nature/nurture development, and whether people sometimes elected to become Abnegation precisely because that's where the power of government is (considering the fact that Tris' dad was Erudite, I'd say that it was an educated guess that he manipulated the system, and then when his children grew up they both had a tendency towards Erudite, like him, as well as Abnegation, where they grew up. If you have no idea what I'm going on about, read the books! It's like a post-apocalyptic version of the hunger games, but everyone dies, not just kids. I actually don't like the Hunger Games comparison, but it's probably the most popular book that's similar) and I regularly speculate with others about what will happen in The Fall Of Five, from the Lorien stories (we have some exciting theories about the beginning of Setrakus Ra and his involvement in Mogodorians trying to eliminate the Loriens and Science Fiction is amazing). I love breaking books apart (not literally, sacrilege!) and exploring them with other people, I want them to show me an emphasis I hadn't considered before. It's like reading a whole other book.

I don't get why other people don't do that. How they can read a book and be like 'well, I got a warm, fuzzy feeling so I like this book' and that be it. Even at the base of it, be like 'I liked the main protagonist for his humour and tenacity.' Okay, you don't want to sound like a prick, I clearly have no problem with it, I'll rephrase; 'I liked the main guy because he was funny and even when life sucked he tried hard to live the way he thought was right.' I respect that, because I know why you liked it, it shows me a little bit about you, a new little bit of the book, and makes me consider the author in a whole new way.

I hope, should I ever get published, or self-publish, and people email/tweet/comment on here (no hints, or anything) that I get "becauses" whatever people think of the book ("It's shit because you named your main character Lambrini, are you taking the piss?" - yes, yes I did. I love it, I will not change it. And yes, at first, I was taking the piss, but it suits her, they had that tagline 'girls just wanna have fun' which is now 'girls just wanna be unique' and it shortens to Lamb which has connotations of innocence and a need for protection, and I bet you can now tell one theme in my book, just from me breaking down her name. And hopefully, you get why I'm not ever changing it. But I digress), it's just polite. I mean, I replied to Jay Asher's message thanking me for panning his non-book, saying why I loved his work and that my original post was me being generous for loving his other works so much. He didn't reply back so maybe I was a little breathy-fan-girl in my approach (okay, I was totally a breathy-fan-girl. Like when I served one of 5ive at work) but I still like to think he appreciated my opinion on his actual work.

Just ... just respect the amount of effort and alcohol a writer has gone through to write and rewrite and edit and consider things like prophetic phallacy and alternate vocabulary that works in colloquial speech *coughs*chagrin*coughs*Meyer*coughs* and give them something back. Give the other readers something to bounce off.

Reading is not a passive sport. You don't stare at a page like you can stare at a TV screen and still have the action go by, you have to engage. And if you have something to say but can't articulate it? Think for a few minutes before putting something online. The internet doesn't have an opening time, you know?

Saturday 16 March 2013

A couple of songs I love

I keep over playing this one, so I thought I'd share the lyrics. This is New Found Glory's Truth Of My Youth:

There was a time and place,
Where I never thought,
I'd leave my own hometown,
But those days finally,
Are dead and gone,
It was never my intention to stay there,
Oh no,

There was a conscious effort played by me,
To disown anything I see,
There was a girl I knew,
Way back when,
Who says she doesn't know me anymore,
These are the lies the things you never mention,
These are my past mistakes I'll stay away from,

These are my thoughts written down on paper,
It's my only savior,
From not saying what I want to say,
These are the thoughts that are on my mind,
Moments that haven't yet been defined,
And I don't know if you could ever understand,
These are the things I can't say when were alone.

There were countless hours on the telephone,
My ears were ringing from the dial tone,
There were flashing lights,
People staring,
There was nothing I could ever do,
These are the lies the things you never mention,
These are my past mistakes I'll stay away from,

This is the truth,
The only time you'll here it,
I write it down because it seems so hard to say it,

These are my thoughts written down on paper,
It's my only savior,
From not saying what I want to say,
There are my thoughts that are on my mind,
Moments that haven't yet been defined,
And I don't know if you could ever understand,
These are the things I can't say when we're alone.

or if you want to watch:

 
sorry it's only a fan video.
 
The other song I wanted to share was one no one seems to know, but it's got me through a lot of shit. It's Vienna by Billy Joel, but everyone thinks I mean the Ultravox one. The lyrics and video again, yes?
 
 
Slow down, you crazy child
you're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You'd better cool it off before you burn it out
You've got so much to do and
Only so many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told..
That you can get what you want or you get old
You're gonna kick off before you even
Get halfway through
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be
Before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight
Tonight,...
Too bad but it's the life you lead
you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong, you know
You can't always see when you're right. you're right

You've got your passion, you've got your pride
but don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

Slow down, you crazy child
and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile
it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize,..Vienna waits for you?
And you know that when the truth is told
that you can get what you want or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get half through
Why don't you realize,. Vienna waits for you
When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?
 



I'm eclectic at best, I know.

Against the grain

Yeah, three blogs in one day. I really should shut up.

But I'm obviously not, I just want to address a couple of things about my agenda which probably won't flow because Ant and Dec's Saturday night Takeaway is on and it's amazeballs. Plus my son keeps telling me just how rubbish he's doing on Angry Birds on my iPad, bless him. I know what happens when you don't destroy the pigs, but thank you.

Basically, it's about the idea of an Essex person, particularly Essex Girls. I hate how we're meant to be peroxide blonde's with fake tans, fake nails, fake hair, and fake brain cells. I have never seen a white boot stiletto we're meant to be famous for wearing. Most people I walk past wear saggy-bummed jeans, baggy hoodies and their hair (if they're female) being in a high ponytail. So they get the hairstyle right (although, my hair is peroxide, since I wanted to prelighten it to dye it another colour but I have red, raspberry-pink and bright orange to choose from and I am shit at making decisions). We kind of see people who emulate the Essex stereotype as alien beings. Seriously, some girl was in my store all dressed up in Typical Essex Girl Wear a few months ago and the amount of bitching I heard from the crew about the state of this girl was unbelievable.

So yeah, you look like Amy Childs and fast food employees look down on you. I can't believe I've just mentioned TOWIE by proxy, but they're currently responsible for upholding the 'Essex people are pretty and dumb' stereotype so they can do one already, however relevant they are for this blog post.

Do you know who I know from Essex?

-A girl with a Masters in clinical Psychology. I've known her since I was four and she was three. She's my son's Godmother.

-A producer on national television. If you watch This Morning, that girl with the light brown/dark blonde hair was one of my best friends in high school. I made her dance to 5,6,7,8 by steps on the school stage in a talent competition. Strangely, she was the English class genius and I wanted to work in television, we seem to have swapped roles.

-Two girls who are writing their own novels.

-A girl who breeds mini-lop rabbits.

-A lawyer.

-Someone who's grade eight at the Oboe. She played drums in a band at school too.

That's not including my family, who are teachers, doctors, and lawyers as well. That's not including the ten other people I can hold conversations with about books, which no one else can get. Or the girl studying Chemistry at Uni, or the fact when I was getting my bachelors, in one of my study groups of 15, 5 of us were from Essex.

I just really hate that wherever I go, people have this impression that we're uncultured. Seriously, in a twilight topic someone mentioned I was from Essex because she saw it on my profile (good ol' Goodreads again) and she condescended to the fact that she didn't think we knew how to read. I seriously wanted to tell her where to shove it, since Essex has more grammar schools than any other county in England, one of which I attended. Yeah, you read that right, I passed an exam to attend my high school. Actually, three. One of which you can either do, or not, since it's all about logically thinking through word and letter patterns and problems. Speaking of which, I am really into Hanjie and Logic puzzles, which are amazing when you know how to do them (and Hanjie is so pretty once you get the jist of it) ... I really hope, if this blog achieves nothing else, it at least proves that this girl on Goodreads deserves a punch in the face, because Essex people are articulate, and smart, and have oodles of self-confidence. There are more celebrities and lottery winners from Essex than anywhere else in England as well ... I just fucking love Essex. But not for the stereotype.

Jenny Armintrout's an inspiration

I love Jenny Armintrout's blog, which you can find here http://jennytrout.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=47e909f72dd2174 but this post isn't about shameless promotion of a writer whose only book I've read is her freebie book on that blog (on the to read list: all the others she's written).

Instead, I want to talk about something specific she's mentioned, about the publishing world that actually makes my heart sink.

She refers a few times, in various blogs, about the "Sunshine Sisterhood of Writers", and how in the industry as a whole, you have to admire and rate your peers regardless of how good you think they actually are. I also got a friend add on Goodreads from an author because I'd panned someone else, and they admired my balls (she'd been congratulated by this writer on her position on amazon's ebook sellers list, and read this woman's work as a thanks for the congratulations, then couldn't bring herself to talk about the work because it really is that abysmal. But maybe I think that because the book we're discussing here seems to think if you live in Essex you live next to Indian guys. One of my neighbour's is a handicapped woman who keeps chickens and constantly has two or more carers with her, and the other side is a white van man and his family who keep themselves to themselves. Opposite is my old Guide leader's daughter, who also keeps chickens. We're so white middle-class it hurts. Regardless, her view is racist and she might as well have the entire county in the Sugar Hut every night for all she knows of Essex life. But I'm never bitter about the false ideals of my county, or indeed, the circumstances that may arise from living in close proximity to ethnic minorities).

It actually makes me sick. So if I want to enter this world, I have to make nice with people no matter how much I don't believe it? Okay, I'm the girl who's had a mental dilemma about the fact I work in fast food and for years I've had to convince myself about our products in order to even sell the damn things, although this horse meat scandal that's happened recently has nicely put my decision to rest (look, believe what you want to believe about whether the facts being presented to you are the facts, but since the counterbalance is rumour and mockery and not factually based, I have to go with what I'm told. It seriously took me years to make my conscience settle on this, but I did start working at a burger bar when I was borderline vegan, so forgive me a little) but I am all about being honest.

If you're not honest, how can you grow? I don't mean telling someone "you're shit, mate" but constructive criticism is where I'm at. My driving instructor got that if he gave me constructive criticism, I'd drive well. If I did a manoeuvre right and he complimented me, there'd be seconds before I fucked up. I seriously mess up being told I'm good, I would not last long in the sisterhood. It would be more like 'you did really well with that plot device' 'yeah, yeah, I know I'm shit'.

Maybe it's the British sense of self-degradation in me, but I don't think so. I said in another post, I've been on my deathbed before, and coming out of hospital I couldn't remember the word "spoon" or have a conversation for longer than 30 seconds without losing track of what was being said. I have written a novel in the time since, I have earned a promotion at work, I'm the only person in my store to have completed our apprenticeship programme, I've gotten a first class pass in a book-keeping course and passed my driving test. I am full of "I can do anything, I have balls of steel" bravado as a result. But you tell me how well I'm doing and I'll cry because you're lying.

**side bar for hilarity, I mentioned the book-keeping at work, and then a few weeks later, I actually had a conversation with someone where they were talking about other things in people's lives besides burgers and fries and he goes 'and you're studying to be a librarian, right?' like you have to take exams on the Dewey Decimal System the way cab drivers in London do. He meant the book-keeping and thought that's what it was. I agreed, because my mind was blown for a second, and then could not stop laughing. Because balancing accounts helps with shelving books ... still laughing now.**

Anyway, so I think I'd suck in the sisterhood. My presence on goodreads alone (where I've included a review with no stars because I thought the story was crap) would have me booted out before I hit the shelves. Fuck it, seriously, I don't want to sell maybe 50 copies and be told it's so good ... like a few friends have read my writing, and it went on a website temporarily. One friend, and a few people on this site were like 'yeah, it's good, well done' and it's like 'thanks, means a lot, but why?' the reviews I've liked best were:

-my friend Lydia, who told me off for my fragmented sentences. I kinda blame the whole 'slight-brain-damage' thing because that's how I think now, in fragmented sentences, but she was right. It read like "I need to go to the store. I need some eggs. I have a cake to bake." and she said it did her head in, and should be "I need to go to the store because I need some eggs for the cake I'm baking." - same tone, same information, but so much easier to read. We ended up having a long conversation over pizza about stuff like sentence lengths and the application of punctuation to change tone and ... yeah, we're raging geeks (we're so Essex Gel it hurts, right?) - we also talked about her writing and how it's like all these books we keep referring each other to, just so you're aware my punctuation wasn't the only hot topic over my gluten-free BBQ chicken and her foot-long lasagne.

-someone on fanstory who told me what I already know, my tense is all over the place. It's hard though, because I'm writing recent-past tense, so sometimes it goes "I am feeling like this, because this happened." So yes, I mix tenses, but there is a relevance. There are sometimes I mix them when I shouldn't though, so I do need to edit, which I will next time I get a break from work (Tuesday. I live for Tuesdays. I'm meant to have Monday's off too, but I work from 11pm on a Sunday to 8am-ish on a Monday so bollocks to that idea) but she wanted me to change it all to present tense. Fuck that shit, it's recent-past.

Anyway, even though I have had strong reactions to this, you can see that they've caused me to think and emote more so than 'yeah, that's good' although props to my friend Sammie (who got me writing again in the first place after I thought high school killed it, so Sammie's allowed to tell me I'm good and nothing else) because she keeps trying to guess what's going to happen next and she ends up with emails sent at 2.30am when I'm on my break waxing lyrical about the most dickheaded of my characters.

So how, if this is my reaction, could I ever survive being published? Although I wrote a bad review recently and got a response from one of my favourite YA writers, so maybe I could survive.

It wasn't my fault by the way, Goodreads linked a pyschologist's first novel to the YA author because they're both called Jay Asher. I think I was the first person to read and then review this book, and it was terrible, but I thought that I loved 13 reasons why, and the future of us, and Jay wrote in the future of us (and I paraphrase) "if nothing else, you should respect a writer for finishing a book, because writing an entire book takes so much effort" so I thought "damn straight Jay, I'll be really lenient with my review as a result." Then someone commented on my review and said it wasn't his, and he messaged me and said it wasn't his, but thanks for being nice about his actual books in my review, and then he blogged my review as his "favourite bad review" because the bad review isn't even about his writing and I crawled in a hole and died a little. Thanks Jay, parade the one time this year I got it wrong (but I still love you!). If you want to read it and my god-awful grammar, it's http://jayasher.blogspot.co.uk/ oh yeah, us writers are all about this blogger.

I've gone off on a tangent and forgotten how I got here. Sorry, my 1am finish lasted until 3.30 and then I bought microwave pizza, ate it and fucked about on candy crush saga until 5am and didn't wake up again until 1pm. I clearly have no idea what the fuck I'm doing right now but I also have a lot of shit I want to talk about. I also start work at 11pm, so win.

Why do you read it if you don't like it?

So, one of the things I want to do on my blog is address a few issues. This is one that comes up a lot on goodreads, but only on the books I've panned (maybe because on the books I've loved and then entered into discussion on, I actually don't want to be ignorant) and it really annoys me.

People seem to think that it's a waste of time to finish a book you don't enjoy at the beginning. I just can't even begin to articulate how much I find that rude, and ignorant, and just plain disrespectful. There are plenty of reasons to finish a book you do not enjoy at first:

-Because the label bookworm is fairly accurate. Reading is a weird form of addiction whereby once you've invested in reading a book, you have to know how it ends. Maybe the beginning misconstrues the blurb and you read on to find the storyline that caught your eye in the first place. Maybe there are nuances you did not enjoy but there is enough, just, to keep you reading on.

-Because if you do want to discuss books with someone, it's a good idea to know what you're discussing. Maybe you're discussing character development, or plot twists, or characterisation, or use of langauge. This is what I mean by nuances, you can think someone writes beautifully but has nothing to say, and someone else has a magnificent story but no way of communicating it properly.

-The beginning can be misleading. Some authors spend a lot of time on exposition, so that you get about halfway through the book before you get to the storyline. Others have the storyline at the beginning (the biggest crime of most ebooks in my kindle) and you need to read the rest to know how the book will alter and grow. Why is the blurb only focused on the start, or the end of the story? What of books that only contain review comments on the blurb page?

-Something I do, and I'm not the only one, is to take a guess from the first few pages about how things will transpire. Like, right now I'm reading A Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and he's waxing lyrical about how rude Pearl is, and I'm playing guess the husband (the stranger Hester reacted to, check one!) and the lover (the priest who doesn't interact with anyone for 90% of his life, but when he does everyone loses it over how wise it is. I haven't got there yet, so can't check that one) and the outcome for Pearl (she's either going to be loved by everyone and everyone'll be like "I can't believe she was a bastard" or else she's going to die. I can't call it yet) and whether Hester will lose her A (At the end?). My point is, even though I read, I think at the same time, so you could write "Cathy went to the shop" and my brain will be going "Cathy's married to Mark isn't she, but she's not happy in her relationship so maybe some drama's going to go down at the shop" at the same time as going "is this the local shop or the one out of the way so Mark can't see?" and also "What shop? Are we brand-naming or coasting over that. Is it going to be relevant?" - I can't just put down a book, I need to know I'm right. I'm like, 95% right all the time (and extremely narcisstic, apparently), how can I just walk away from a book and not finish it?

Actually, I walked away from three books, and they're stuck in my mind, so you know there's something major still going on. The first was Great Expectations, which I read in school at 15. We also started watching the DVD in class, so we'd alternate between the two. I stopped reading when the DVD went past where I'd read to, and Pip lost all his cash (so about 3/4 of the way through, I guess) - all my questions were answered before I got there. I hate reading the book after watching the film. I did watch the recent Douglas Booth version on BBC and loved it, but it's not the same. The second book was The Post-Birthday Party by Lionel Shriver. I love Shriver, We Need To Talk About Kevin is my favourite book ever and she participated in a TV experiment on the effects of MDMA to see if it should be legalised and was just ... I wish I was her. I left the Post-Birthday Party because another book from a series I'd been following came out, and I just never went back. It's on my to-read list, along with about 60 other books. The third and final one, was Gerald's Game by Stephen King. My inner monologue killed the story ("So she's been tied up for about four hours now because night is only just falling and I'm a third of the way through the book yet she's dying of dehydration and her husband that she accidentally killed three hours and fifty minutes ago is already rotting on the floor and somehow a mongrel has smelt the three-hour-old rotting flesh and somehow come into the house and is easily tearing his flesh from the body? This isn't scary, this is stupid, King has no idea about timelines and I hate him." - Gerald's Game is apparently King's weaker novel, but screw it, I won't be reading any more. I know, I know, controversy!) and it's the only book I have never craved to get to the end to. I couldn't even crave the end of the stupid chapter, because it was so monotonous and illogical. I like being logical.

Basically, I think it's an invalid argument, I read a lot of different genres, for different age groups, and my favourite book is about a woman who makes a bet with her husband about having a child who then turns into a mass-murderer. There's no one likeable in it, and the storyline is intense and has a lot of situation-building in the start, but it's loveable. I like other books that no one else seems to, like Lauren Kate's Fallen series. I also like some books in one genre and not others (like, I couldn't get on with Hush Hush, which is basically Fallen. Other people feel the opposite) but if you don't read, and don't stick with a book, how will you know? Tell me I'm not the only one to think like this?

Wednesday 13 March 2013

I am a bad blogger

I keep saying I will blog more, that I will review books and use this space to write about my own journey in the world of writing, but I'm obviously terrible at this. Sorry.

There are a few reasons for this. Consider this an introductory post that would be better placed as an info page (maybe in a couple of years) to explain why:

-First, I have a full time job. I work in theory, 45 hours less breaks a week. A break is forty-five minutes, depending on whether I have given other people breaks (the joy of middle management in shift work), and a shift is nine hours depending on whether I actually get out on time (clue: I don't). Like, tonight I'm meant to be working a 4pm - 1am shift, but I have to be there at 3.40pm at the latest and will probably be there until 2.30am. So I don't get a lot of time past work.

-Second, I'm a full time parent, shiftwork dependent. When I'm off, and he's not at school, I am in charge. Hard to blog when you're a mother to a very active and imaginative five year old boy. I spend a lot of time removing him from jumping off furniture/telling him he can't swing his toy swords about so close to the TV/ornaments.

-Third, as I said, I'm a writer, I like to write in my free time, as rare as that is. Blogging is such a great exercise in writing but if I have a scene in my head, that's going to take precedence.

-Fourth ... not meaning to whinge, or start a pity party, but a few years ago, I got pretty sick. Like, on my deathbed, having intense treatment at the hospital sick. I'm like, eighty percent okay now, but there are things that it does affect still. I can sleep like crazy, and feel tired if I get less than eight hours. I can wake up after that and feel more tired than when I went to bed. I also have a few memory/attention problems, so feel free to call me out if I start to talk about something, go off on a tangent and forget what I was writing about. Even reading through will not help me notice it, which I know is shocking, but for me blogging and writing are two different formats (like a letter to your mum and your bank manager will be different in grammar use, format, length, formality etc) and I also can't leave a blog post two months for editing before posting. That's a little ridiculous. The other things it affects come through when I speak, so hopefully you won't notice so much.

So I will blog when I can, but since I think these are four valid reasons, I can be forgiven for however infrequent I post. But since I have no readers, I think I'm safe from being persecuted.

Until next time, whenever that is!