Writer in the Wilderness

Static Poetry IV and Bye Bye, Mrs Josie Cat

2011-08-20T17:23:00.009+01:00

Good news and *sniff* sadder news today.

First, the good news. Three of my poems are in the Static Poetry IV anthology, which you can find on Amazon and various other places.

You may remember my story Fourth Breeding appeared in Static Movement, their fiction e-zine, so it's nice to be back with them.

The sadder news (but it's happy really) is that our foster cat Josie has found a forever home after over a year living with us. I took her down to DC last week to meet her new family, who are utterly lovely (they gave me biscuits and tea in a real tea pot, so they must be nice).

We are still left with our enormous fluffy cat Grant (aka Mr. Fluffy Cat) who has been a bit down since Josie left and in need of extra cuddles, poor thing.

Let's remember Josie and some of the strange places she used to sleep:

'Helping' me write.

Christmas hamper.

In the closet.

Lurking.

Please don't recycle you kitties!

Bye bye, Mrs Josie Cat - may you have a very happy life with your new Forever Family.

No short story cuts on Radio 4

2011-07-21T16:09:00.004+01:00

If you love short stories, and if you are reading this you probably do, you will be concerned to hear that BBC Radio 4, traditionally champions of the short story, are reducing their short story programming from 3 to 1 a week.

Disbelief and bewilderment have quickly spread around the web; the form is currently enjoying a popular renaissance, due in part to its support by the BBC. The Guardian point out that demand for short stories among the listening public is only increasing, and that the decision to reduce output is 'baffling'.

An online petition has already collected 2688 signatures (at time of writing). Please sign it if you haven't already!

As the Guardian say in their article, short stories are a 'perfect fit' for radio:
the ideal marriage of medium and message. Cheap and quick to produce, they come with none of the problems and pitfalls of adaptations: with a short story on the radio, one is privy to much more of an author's intention; far fewer corners cut, hardly any descriptions excised.

EDP: Friday in Islington

2011-06-10T15:29:00.002+01:00

I'm in Every Day Poets today with Friday in Islington, which I wrote when I was back in the UK last February. Seeing London again with an outsider's eyes was a strange experience: fashion is so much more important there than where I live now and rich and poor share the same space without being nearly so neatly tucked away.

Save the Words

2011-06-01T16:45:00.004+01:00

I really just have to point you in the direction of a wonderful website I discovered via WriteWords.

Save the Words is a rescue shelter for almost obsolete words. You can adopt your very own word and even have it made into a t-shirt. I have adopted 'primifluous' - that which flows first. Knowing me I'll take another few home; the kitties will have to squish up and make room.

In other news I have had a poem accepted ('Arthur's Seat', see right) for the Every Day Poets Anthology II and three poems accepted for Static Movement's Static Poetry IV. More on those later!

Brave New Worlds: Dystopian Stories

2011-04-19T21:17:00.002+01:00

I came across a link to this anthology of 33 dystopian stories edited by John Joseph Adams and had to add it to my little virtual shopping basket.

In their words:
"Brave New Worlds collects 33 of the best tales of totalitarian menace by some of today’s most visionary writers."
It includes stories by Neil Gaiman, Orson Scott Card, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ray Bradbury, Philip K. Dick and Ursula K. Le Guin.

I'm practically pawing at the letterbox waiting for my parcel now, although to be honest, I'd have bought it for the cover alone.

Things happening at the end of March

2011-03-24T12:27:00.007Z

1/ The Brand New Cheltenham Poetry Festival
The good folk of Cheltenham have stabled their Gold Cup horses for another year and turned their minds to more literary pursuits. The first ever Cheltenham Poetry Festival runs from 31st March-3rd April - check the website for details.

2/ Bristol Short Story Prize Deadline
Get your entries for the Bristol Short Story Prize in by midnight on 31st march.

"The 2011 Bristol Short Story Prize is now open and this year's writing competition introduces some exciting new developments.

The prize money has doubled for 2011 - the winning writer will receive £1,000 and all 20 writers whose stories are published in the Bristol Short Story Prize Anthology Volume 4 will receive at least £100. The winning story will, also, be published in Bristol Review of Books and Venue magazine. And short story fans can look forward to ShortStoryVille- a day-long festival celebrating short stories, to be held next July. The 2011 BSSP awards ceremony will be the final event of the festival.

The 2011 judging panel is Maia Bristol (former UK Sales Manager at Faber & Faber), award-wining short story writer Tania Hershman (highly commended in the 2009 Orange Prize for her collection 'The White Road and other stories') author, illustrator and cartoonist Joe Berger and writer and publisher Helen Hart. Chair of the judging panel, writer, performer and publisher Bertel Martin, says: “I’m really looking forward to judging this year’s competition. BSSP attracts really strong, diverse and exciting submissions from all over the world.”

3/ Fish Publishing International Poetry Contest Deadline
In less South Westerly-based news, the deadline for the Fish Publishing International Poetry Contest is looming - get your entries in by 30th March 2011.

Inkspill Magazine and 3LBE Reviews

2011-02-14T14:42:00.005Z

I recently received my Real Paper Format copy of Inkspill Magazine issue 3, which is looking every bit as beautiful as the first two issues. You can download the pdf of Inkspill 3 for free or order your copy through their website.

My poem, Kirkstone Pass Inn, (p.39) is inspired by the wonderful and dramatic inn that sits atop Kirkstone Pass in Cumbria, UK. I have just sent them a copy of the magazine - I hope they like the poem!

I have just been reading a couple of reviews of Three Lobed Burning Eye issue 20 and my story, The Birdstories of Jaywalker.

Rise Reviews says,
Issue #20 begins with the short tale, “The Birdstories of Jaywalker” by Jennifer Stakes, wherein a bird-man by the name of Jay attends a story telling festival in order to collect stories to bring to his masters who use them as a form of currency. Stakes sensory language is well deployed and we get a sense of the festival being a kind of sustenance to those to attend. We are left intrigued by the metaphor of language as currency and what kind of higher level beings are responsible for this system. “Birdstories” is a strong lead off to the issue.

I got a particular kick out of being called 'Stakes', like a Real Writer, or else someone in a boarding school who has just stolen a biscuit from the tuck shop.

Locus Online writes,
Jay, who does not seem to be a bird, is a wandering storyteller. He has a mystery. It is not clear why his stories are bird, or capitalized. Some nice prose. Although the author tells us that “He moved with the rhythmic patience of those who never get to where they are going, and are not sad when they don’t arrive,” in fact he is quite urgent about reaching his final destination in time.

The story was inspired by the Welsh Storytelling Festival, Beyond the Border, which I went to a few years ago, and the old myth that Jays take stories and news down to the underworld. It is still one of my favourites.

100 Stories for Queensland

2011-01-14T16:14:00.008Z

Greg McQueen and his team have responded to the devastating flooding in Queensland, Australia by doing what they do best - launching an appeal for upbeat stories for 100 Stories for Queensland.

From their website:
100 Stories for Queensland is headed by Brisbane resident and co-owner of eMergent Publishing, Jodi Cleghorn, and UK author, Trevor Belshaw. The management team is made up of Maureen Vincent-Northam, David W Robinson and Nick Daws who all worked on the Haiti and Pakistan anthologies with McQueen. They are assisted by a growing band of 20 volunteer readers and editors from across the globe. McQueen is working behind the scenes, organising the audio book and podcasts in conjunction with UK author and podcaster Em Newman.
100% of the profit from the sale of the anthology will be donated to the Queensland Premier’s Flood Relief Appeal.

Check out the website to find out more about the submissions process. Please follow their guidelines and submissions manager rather than emailing them your story.

Queensland is particularly dear to my heart as I spent around five months there back in 2002 doing conservation work with Conservation Volunteers Australia. I lived out in the bush in a tent during the week and spent my days clearing invasive species from the rainforest, planting trees, mulching and making paths for wheelchair users to access the parks. I fell in love with the stunning scenery and was even filmed by the Australian version of The Really Wild Show teaching children how to plant trees.
If you happened to be watching on Christmas Eve, 2002, that was me in the bright blue CVA t-shirt, looking a bit embarrassed.
I have so many happy, wonderful memories of my time in Australia, especially in Queensland. My thoughts are with all the friends I met there.

I am in the middle of writing a tale set in a cinema to submit to 100 Stories for Queensland. I love being made to write upbeat stories as it doesn't come naturally. I still remember the rush of feeling I had as I wrote the ending to my 50 Stories for Pakistan tale, Lines, and it was so vastly better than any dreary conclusion I would have brought if I hadn't been prompted to finish it on a high note.

You have until midnight (Aussie time) Friday 28th January to submit a story of between 500 and 1000 words. Do it! Do it now!

Snow Ho Ho Horror

2010-12-22T16:01:00.009Z

Heathrow Airport this week. They also have snowploughs, they assure us. (Photo: theaustralian.com.au)

Passengers camped out on the floor, sometimes for 4 days or more. These people look remarkably chipper. (Photo: BBC News)

Because of scenes like this, I am still very much in the USA, where it is cold but sunny. The country has that well-practiced look of hunkering down for weeks of sub-zero temperatures and blizzards. We have all drained our outside pipes and have the snow shovels ready. Many people own their own snow blowers and plough attachments for their all-terrain vehicles. No waiting for the council to come around here.

I may not be at London Heathrow Airport, but at least I am not at London Heathrow Airport, if you see what I mean. It could be worse. We have delayed our trip home to the UK, our first in 18 months, by a week to let the snow chaos die down. There were several frustrating days of sitting on hold to airline companies when flight after flight was cancelled. We are now due back on Christmas Day and I am very much hoping Father Christmas will be coming round the plane with treats for all the good boys and girls.

Good luck with all your travel plans, wherever you may be.

So I am catching up on my duties as Assistant Editor at MicroHorror, reading through submissions. I have been on board for a couple of weeks now and it is very interesting being on the other end of the submissions process. This sort of Horror is preferable to sitting in snow drifts on the M6 motorway for 12 hours.

I get excited about the ones with strong openings, imaginative language or plot devices and good characterisation. I really want them to live up to their promise and end satisfyingly. (We don't get a lot of happy endings in Horror, but I do love a satisfying ending).

Generally I try to write something positive about the ones I send rejections for. Often stories are well written but are let down by their ending. I see a lot of cliched endings. Many have good language but are descriptions rather than stories, or the beginning of a story.

Anyway, I am learning a lot about what makes a good piece of flash fiction.

So Happy Christmas! I'll see you all in the New Year, when I hope to be well fed on mince pies, Yorkshire puddings, Cadburys chocolate, Christmas pudding and all the other seasonal goodies we miss. Not to mention the Doctor Who Christmas Special. I am very excited.

Even the Doctor has problems in the snow.
(news.thedoctorwhosite.co.uk)

Story Comments

2010-12-16T14:28:00.002Z

There is a blog called Story Comments that delivers intriguing little eggcups of quotes and observations from books, films and other media.

Their post, Other Story Commentators, on 11th December was taken from me talking about flash fiction, here on Writer In The Wilderness.

Universities and education

2010-12-15T15:02:00.003Z

I really, really wanted to write a post about the government's decision to slash the teaching and research grants to universities and shift the cost onto students. I have been too unspeakably angry so far to write anything coherent. I understand that saving money at the moment is essential, given the country's finances, though I fail to see how allowing the super rich to get out of paying taxes is justifiable, given the current climate. There seems to still be money sloshing around in the upper echelons.

Personally, I believe that people should be encouraged to reach their full potential irrespective of financial circumstances. I believe that the country as a whole benefits from providing well-funded education that is accessible to all. I also believe that the value of education extends far beyond an individual's earning power and that the value of a university education is greater than the degree obtained at the end of the course.

Here is a wonderfully comprehensive breakdown of the current situation, written by an American who is studying for his post-doc at the London School of Economics. It is a far more thorough analysis of the situation than anything I could have written.

The blogger commented under his first post on the subject, As one of the Lords said last night, the government’s plan appears to take all the worst parts of the American system without adding any of the things that mitigate those deficiencies.

The picture above is of me at my graduation ceremony in 2006, when I received my Masters in medieval and early modern history. I fear we medievalists are a dying breed.

First Draft Completed

2010-12-13T17:26:00.002Z

Just finished the first draft of my dystopian novel set in an alternative present where government has been privatised and society run as a business.
A troublesome underclass is making themselves felt.

111,000 words. Editing begins...

'Shitty First Drafts'

2010-12-11T17:52:00.007Z

That road ahead can seem to go on forever. This one actually does, as it was taken in North Dakota (check out the squashed bug on the windscreen) and no-one has ever driven all the way across North Dakota.*

So it is with writing a novel, and this is where we come to the idea of 'Shitty First drafts'. The term is in inverted commas because a) my mum reads this and I used a Bad Word, and b) because it is a much-cited quotation taken from Anne Lamott's book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.

It is a hugely helpful concept. Basically, all those elegant, eloquent, finely-plotted, wonderfully characterised novels you read start out as shitty first drafts, much as cakes start out as a pile of ingredients and mixing bowls on the sideboard you haven't washed down yet and still has a half-chewed cat toy on it.

In this day and age we have such things as computers and, unlike JRR Tolkien, who couldn't afford a typist and could only re-type the completed draft with no mistakes once to send to his publisher (I think I am remembering that correctly, please feel free to tell me off if it isn't true), we can edit to our hearts' content.

Whatever we write can be taken out, re-written, expanded, contracted and deleted from history. Essentially, it doesn't matter that your first draft is awful, vomit-inducing nonsense, somewhere in there are the rough diamonds that can be polished once the extraneous dirt and bobbly bits have been cleaned off. And it isn't just us, everyone writes shitty first drafts. (Almost everyone, but we're not interested in those people today as perfection is unspeakably dull).

My experimentation with NaNoWriMo enforced this Just Write! idea. I found myself able to write over difficult hurdles that I might previously have stumbled on because there, as a prop under my typing hands, was the idea that I can always change it if it doesn't work. No-one will know, it's ok. (Don't worry about future PhD students who might be doing their thesis on you after you've won the Nobel Prize for Literature. For one, all your notes will be on the computer, which you'll have upgraded several times by then, and for another, no-one will be able to afford to do arts and humanities subjects in the future and PhDs in English will be obsolete.)

How did NaNo go? I wrote 30,000 words in November, well below the winning magic number of 50,000. But I don't feel like a loser. Currently the novel stands at 110,000 words. I am finishing off the final chapters and am planning to write THE END by Friday next week, which is when I am going home to Blighty for Christmas. Then the Slightly Better But Still Shoddy Second Draft begins.

*They have.

Announcement!

2010-12-03T22:43:00.007Z

I am delighted to announce that I am the new Assistant Editor at MicroHorror!

I am coming aboard Nathan Rosen's terrifying little ship to give him a hand working through submissions, helping to get your tales up, swabbing the virtual decks and other dastardly duties.

So send in your stories and scare us!

Click here to see my photo of my new boss, taken at the Piratz Tavern a few weeks ago.

Three-lobed Burning Eye Annual - vol. V

2010-12-03T22:37:00.003Z

It's here! Light the fire, close the curtains, pour a glass of mulled wine and settle down with some speculative weirdness from the Three-Lobed Burning Eye Annual volume five.
It contains thirty stories of horror, suspense, dark fantasy, science fiction, and magical realism.
Perfect for those dark winter evenings.
Look out for my story, The Birdstories of Jaywalker.

Graffiti

2010-11-24T14:52:00.003Z

My tiny story Graffiti is over at The Pygmy Giant today: Bristol, graffiti and the eternal turf war between good and evil in 150 words.

Thanks to VisitBristol.co.uk for this Banksy image found on the side of the Thekla boat/club in Bristol harbour.

Happy National Short Story Week!

2010-11-22T16:49:00.002Z

This week (22nd-28th November) is the UK's first National Short Story Week! To find out more about events, stories, authors and the like, go to their website.

To celebrate (ok, entirely coincidentally) I have a tiny tiny short story coming out in The Pygmy Giant on Wednesday. It involves Bristol, graffiti, and the eternal battle between Good and Evil. In 150 words.

NaNo Day Sixteen

2010-11-16T23:52:00.003Z

So, halfway there and how are we doing? I've just opened my rather beautiful Excel spreadsheet (created in a fit of procrastination, naturally) to find:
Words written during NaNo: 18,062
Novel total: 93,723

I'm going to utterly fail the NaNoWriMo task of writing 50,000 words during the month of November. BUT I actually think I might finish the novel by the end of the month, which, after all, was the task. I didn't do any NaNo-ing today but spent the afternoon writing a short story which was hammering to get out. Also, we do have things like a trip to New York and Thanksgiving (which we're hosting again) getting in the way of writing, but really, if I finish my novel on, say, December 3rd I'm not going to be too unhappy.
Then, of course, LoEdShiFiDra begins (Localised Editing of the Shitty First Draft) begins.

In other news, I've just had a poem accepted into the stunning Inkspill Magazine for their next issue in January.

Three-Lobed Burning Eye

2010-11-09T16:20:00.005Z

The latest issue of speculative fiction magazine Three-Lobed Burning Eye (Issue 20) has appeared today, and will soon also be available as a PDF and an e-book. I am delighted that it contains my story The Birdstories of Jaywalker. Also, I just love the artwork.

This has to be one of my favourite stories I have written. It was inspired by a writing prompt over at WriteWords for a story involving a member of the crow family. I hit the books/internet and discovered that jays, one of my favourite birds, are a type of crow. In myth Jays take stories and news down to the underworld and they are slightly feared because of this.

Thinking of stories, the scene jumped straight into my mind: my husband and I had been to the Welsh Storytelling Festival with my father-in-law, John Roberts, who was performing one of his beautiful puppet shows there. What a good place for collecting stories. His famous storytelling rug makes a cameo in this.

I moved the action to Scotland and shamelessly pinched the word 'dreich' I had heard from Highlands writing friend Caroline because it is such a wonderful and evocative word. Use it three times and it is yours.

There is some hint that the Three-Lobed Burning Eye Anthology will be out at the end of the year. I am very much looking forward to that.

50 Stories For Pakistan Arrives and Other Good News

2010-11-05T18:27:00.005Z

This is my very own copy of 50 Stories For Pakistan sitting on my kitchen table.
And look! Here is my story, Lines.

And here is me holding my book.

I've read about half the stories now and they really are very good. You can read one in about the length of time it takes for a kettle to boil, which suits me very well.

In other news, I've had a story accepted by the wonderful magical realism/speculative fiction magazine, Three-Lobed Burning Eye, which will be out in their latest issue and also in their next anthology, apparently. I am very happy about this, although I don't know if it will be as suitable for elderly relatives as Christmas presents as 50 Stories For Pakistan.

NaNo Day Three

2010-11-03T14:15:00.006Z

Day three in the Big NaNo household. Jen is making a cup of tea.

Total word count so far: 4,056.

What have I learned?
Well, that I can write 2,000 words in a day perfectly easily. But I knew that already. Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day without a NaNoWriMo stat counter showing him a little blue bar. It's quite normal for a writer.

The difference now is that I have to write 2,000 words a day (I am busy most weekends in November so I have to do that little bit more each weekday).

When I hit a snag usually I make a cup of tea, chat to the cats, check Facebook... The procrastination kicks in. Now, I have to hit that target or the NaNo Stat Counter will shout at me and so I make that cup of tea, go back into Word and write through it. Turning off the internal editor, I plough on and - miraculously - the snags untangle.

Yesterday I literally found myself jumping for joy as I thought of a plot device that not only got my MC from A to B, but solved a lingering problem in a perfectly natural, unstrained way. I actually whooped.

I don't plot. I have my characters and I have a rough outline of main plot points on a few sides of A4 paper, some notes about my fictional world to keep place names/infrastructure points straight and that is it. It's up to the characters to find their way.

The problem with this approach is that, whilst I am perfectly capable of writing 2,000 words a day, I often get stuck and only nudge in at less than 1,000. What I am hoping to get from NaNo is the discipline to write through the tangles and let them sort themselves out, rather than being discouraged by them.

I can always take out the rubbish parts later. I am aiming to overwrite the novel by 10% at the very least so that I can do just that. (Another tip from Stephen King. Really, if you haven't read Stephen King's On Writing it's one of the best 'how to' books I have read. Whatever you think of his fiction, he is immensely successful and must be doing something right.)

I do have an advantage over the NaNo-ers who are doing this completely properly in that I am already three-quarters of the way through my novel so have momentum and characters who have learned the drill by now. It's the bit from 10,000 to 30,000 that is by far the hardest.

Good luck to all my fellow NaNo-ers this month, especially those doing this with full-time jobs, kids and Salsa classes. Hats off to you.

Happy November!

2010-11-01T12:12:00.004Z

Happy November everyone! I have a poem called November Gift up at EDP to celebrate the darkest, rainiest, most huddle-inside month... perfect for writing!

This month I am taking part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month for anyone sane enough not to be taking part). The aim is to write 50,000 words by the end of November. I'm not doing it totally properly as I am using it to finish the first draft of my novel (now at 75k words) rather than writing a new one, so I probably won't be doing the full 50k but enjoying the camaraderie for that final push. So although I'll have technically failed, it won't feel like a fail to me! I'll let you know how I got on.

50 Stories For Pakistan - Out now!

2010-10-27T17:45:00.003+01:00

This is Greg McQueen, founder of Big Bad Media and 'creative juice' behind 100 Stories For Haiti and his latest project, 50 Stories For Pakistan.

He is holding his very first copy of 50 Stories For Pakistan, which is available from Blurb Books NOW! To order your own copy, please go here.
All proceeds will go to the Red Cross Pakistan Floods Appeal.

The link will also take you to a list of the other authors. I am in some very good company! The introduction is written by the very fabulous Vanessa Gebbie, author of Storm Warning and Words From a Glass Bubble.

Horror! And Pirates

2010-10-24T16:39:00.005+01:00

This is Noel, Oonah V Joslin and me in the Piratz Tavern in Washington DC. Oonah and Noel recently travelled from Northumberland, UK to Baltimore, USA, so that Oonah (horror writer, poet and Managing Editor of Every Day Poets) could meet Nathan Rosen (Captain of MicroHorror, also known as Black Dog Nate with Piratz For Sail). I first 'met' Oonah on my online writing group Write Words and I feel like I've known her for years so it was so good to finally meet her.
Oonah is judging the Annual MicroHorror Halloween Contest this year - this is what happened when the two met. Just one week left to enter!

Here is Black Dog Nate (the one in the middle with the beard) singing with Pirates For Sail at the Piratz Tavern, where they are the house band.

We had an exceedingly piratey time, with much carousing and slapping of tables. Huzzah!

Oonah and I met up again in Baltimore where I introduced her to my favourite book shop The Book Escape which is just behind the Inner Harbour. It is everything a second hand book shop should be: packed full of books, helpful staff who love their books, and you have to go through a garden to get to the Poetry and Philosophy section. I always spend far too much money in there.

Oonah in her natural habitat, surrounded by books.

In return, Oonah and Noel introduced me to a cafe in Little Italy which has the Biggest Custard Slice Known To Man. Yum.

Bon voyage!

50 Stories For Pakistan

2010-09-29T20:55:00.003+01:00

You may remember me talking about Greg McQueen's book 100 Stories For Haiti in previous posts,the proceeds of which went to the Red Cross Haiti Appeal to help victims of the Haiti Earthquake which struck in January 2010.

The tireless man has been at it again.
In his words:
“Once again I have found myself in the position where I cannot ignore the need to do something. This time it is Pakistan … The United Nations estimates that twenty million people have lost their homes as a result of the flooding that started last July. Add to this the thousands who have already lost their lives, and the thousands who will lose their lives because of famine and disease … And well, it is once again time to do something!”
– Greg McQueen

He appealed for writers to donate stories to 50 Stories For Pakistan and I am delighted that one of my stories, Lines, is included in the anthology! The book is being put together in record time and will be hitting bookshops soon... I will let you know the release date once it is announced and will put up links to Amazon etc. All proceeds will go towards the Red Cross Pakistan Floods Appeal you can click on this link to donate now or see the work that the Red Cross have been doing.

Eclectic Flash, Jane Austen Action Figures and More

2010-09-16T21:58:00.007+01:00

No, I haven't moved to the moon. I have been working in DC, beating the traffic by leaving at 6am and returning twelve hours later, or more if armed gunmen strapped with bombs have been taking hostages in the Discovery Building. (America!) Anyway, several dollars later my temporary contract has come to an end and I have been reunited with my keyboard, my teacups and my lie-ins, even as late as 7.30, hungry cats allowing.

Here's me in the rather gorgeous Issue 3 of Eclectic Flash, available in Real Paper Format or on the Online. It is a story called 'Sweet Pastry', which is tiny at only 150 words, but I quite like it. It was a challenge for me to write something so short.

The novel plods ever onwards. I recently printed the whole thing out to see what it is I have actually written. It's a pleasingly thick wodge of paper that at the very least would make a good doorstop. Now here's a thing, American paper sizes are different. I trotted off to the shop to buy some more A4 and they don't have such a concept. They have a paper size, 'letter', that is slightly wider and a different length, so I had to work out how to change the page setup on the computer and then the printer workings. I'm not one of those people who have to write on grey lined, red margined paper with 4 not 2 holes punched or anything, but still it all looks just a little wrong to me.

A friend and I recently visited the Library of Congress in DC. Once we had got a quiet boo and fist-shake out of our systems for grey-squirrelling the Dewey Decimal System into near extinction, we allowed ourselves to be impressed as all heck at the astoundingly beautiful neo-classical building and the general temple-to-books decor inside. It also has a fantastic gift shop, where I bought a Jane Austen Action Figure with Detachable Quill and Writing Desk for my study.

News: Haiti, Salt, Bristol and more

2010-07-20T14:29:00.007+01:00

First the good news.
It has been six months since the horrific earthquake in Haiti, something that seems incredible to me; surely it was only a matter of weeks ago?
Out of the wreckage came an iron resolve to do something. Many, many organisations and individuals stepped out of their daily lives and did incredible things. One such man was writer Greg McQueen, who put together an anthology of stories donated by authors. Six months later 100 Stories for Haiti has raised over £3000 for the Red Cross Appeal.
Originally brought out as a paperback, you can now also get it as an e-book and a podcast. Aside from its worthy aim, it is also a very very good collection of short stories.
You can see the work the Red Cross have been doing and donate straight to the Appeal here.

If you look right, you can see my e-short story I wrote to raise money for the same cause. It has raised rather less than 100 Stories for Haiti, but I am still collecting and every dollar helps. It is $1 in the US, 35 cents (the author's share) of which goes to the appeal. Unfortunately, outside the US it costs more.

Now the bad news.
Salt Publishing, one of the UK's most respected independent publishers, are in trouble again. The recession and the demise of Borders UK, one of their major customers, have hit it hard and they have only one week of cash left. Probably less by the time I write this.
They have a fantastic line-up of books due to be published this Autumn, and they are expanding into new lines. They publish books by Tania Hershman and Vanessie Gebbie, whose blogs you can see in my blog list, right.
If you are looking for something new, go and check out their website and help support independent literature.

Then some more good news.
This year's Bristol Short Story Prize has been won by Valerie O'Riordan for her 'stunning and incredibly powerful' 350 word story Mum's the Word. Yes, a flash story has won a short story competition. I am very much looking forward to reading Valerie O'Riordan's story. The anthology of all 20 finalists' stories is now available.

Finally, my own news.
I have had two more acceptances, one from my friends at Every Day Poets (which is fast becoming my second home. If I ever get kicked out of here I may move in permanently) and one at the exciting new Eclectic Flash, who publish as an e-zine and in Real Paper Format. They have a delicious website, and only launched in January this year. I'll put up links when they come out.
I'm not doing a lot of submitting at the moment as the novel is in full swing (now at 55,000 words) so acceptances are a real boost. They remind me there is life outside my dystopic world.

Surgery Slugs

2010-07-12T14:15:00.006+01:00

My poem, Surgery Slugs is up at Every Day poets today. It is rather silly but holds a lot of meaning for me; I wrote it in remembrance of my Grandfather, a surgeon and passionate wildlife photographer. He was the circuit doctor at Silverstone racetrack, England, throughout the 1950's and 60's. He had a great sense of humour and I hope he would have liked it. I always remember him being a big man, but maybe that's because I was very small.

Friday Flash 4

2010-07-09T21:05:00.004+01:00

New York, New York

The whole city really did look like a film set. That classical skyscraper, that’s where King Kong met his end. You could picture four women lunching and bitching in that window there. Audrey Hepburn returning at dawn, ‘fifty dollars for the powder room’ in her bag, gazing into a dazzling display of diamonds. Spider Man and Batman saving the world from evil just opposite Bloomingdale’s.

And as for this crumbling old shell of a woman? I couldn’t die without seeing New York, could I? A lifetime with a pleasant but tight-fisted man and not a single adventure other than through the silver screen. Now he was gone I wanted to be a part of it, New York, New York.

The taxi stopped just near where the horse-drawn carriages waited for tourists by Central Park. I paid him, tipped well, and stood with my back to the park, admiring the solid, gothic-tinged apartment blocks, each with their inscrutable doorman. Wasn’t that one where the Ghostbusters had their final showdown?

I shuffled around to face that wonderful park. My shoes were already giving me trouble but that wasn’t going to stop me. I had gone for an appointment, set up the day after Bernie’s funeral, with the personal shopper of Bloomingdale’s. I had explained my situation.

“My husband has left me three million,” I said. “Dress me as if I lived on Park Avenue.” And, eyebrows hardly raising – she must have seen some customers in her time! – she dressed me like a Lady.

I wrapped my stole tighter around me to protect me from the sharp wind and made my way towards the lower East corner. I had been told there was a little zoo near here.
“Can I interest you in a ride, ma’am?”
I shook my head at the tall, smiling black man who sat at the reins of the first carriage.
“You sure, ma’am? It’s an awful big park?”
All of a sudden I felt the chill of the March wind and the pinch of the elegant shoes on my tired old feet. I looked up at him.
“Do you know, I think that I might enjoy a ride?”
The driver helped me into the carriage. He did indeed cut a dash with his white teeth and smart black suit. I felt every inch the real Lady.
“I’m going to take you on the greatest ride of your life, if you’ll permit me, ma’am. I’m going to show you everything you never saw. I want you to be a part of it, New York.”
“Well thank you, my weary old bones are about ready to be shown the city in style.”
The graceful black man, his midnight eyes shining with the wisdom of centuries, flicked his reins and his beloved horse pulled away from the curb. The ebony carriage, shimmering darkly, gathered speed, taking me to see all the sights that I had never seen.

Friday Flash 3

2010-06-25T14:09:00.003+01:00

The Smell of Tornadoes

Raindrops slapped the wooden deck, swollen and bloated like drowned fish. With them came the smell, the smell of the atmosphere and all the charged ions that rumbled with pent-up friction.

The raindrops burst as they struck, flattening into discolouration, and the woman with her hair pulled back with an elastic band watched their stain spread across the oiled wood, the heat causing them to fade back even as she stood there, one hand resting on the screen door. A trickle of sweat ran down the V of her breasts beneath the INXS t-shirt. The air was weighted and thick.

A gust of wind brought a new smell from far off, the smell of the tornado, and she caught the stench of things pulled up, uprooted. Things that were never supposed to see the light of day. A tear tracked the path of her sweat, down her neck and under her t-shirt.

The storm burst, cascading lightening bolts as if they were seed corn as the thunder cracked above the house. The rain came faster, blotting out the trees on the other side of the field with grey haze. She drank in the release of the storm, reaching her arms out to its honesty.

And the woman turned to her husband who was seated at the kitchen table before a map of electronic parts he had taken from the vacuum cleaner, a smear of oil on his prickled chin.

Vince, she said. Vince. And he looked up into her moist eyes and frowned. I have something I need to tell you, she said. And this time you’ll listen.

The bloated raindrops fell, coating the oiled wood with slick reflections, so fast now that the solid heat could not absorb them all.

Photo courtesy of WeatherSavvy.com

Interview: Nik Perring, Author of 'Not So Perfect'

2010-06-17T17:07:00.007+01:00

Last week I reviewed 'Not So Perfect'. This week I have managed to catch up with the ultra-busy Nik Perring (he's just everywhere right now!) and interview him about writing.

Hello Nik, thanks for coming all the way over the Pond to my blog. Can I get you a tea or a coffee?

Hello, Jen! Thanks for inviting me. I like what you’ve done with the place. Tea please.

Have you always written or was there a day you just picked up a pen and went for it?

I’ve always written, just not always seriously. I used to write songs and bad incidental poetry, never really knowing what I was doing but having a bit of fun with it anyway. In 2002 (I think) I was made redundant and that gave me the opportunity to have a go at writing. And I did. I treated it seriously and spent a lot of time doing it and learning. I wrote a screenplay and sent it to the BBC who told me something along the lines of... we only pursue those we think will have a chance of ever writing anything good and promptly moved into writing features. I think my first piece was accepted the following year. Then, of course, I got interested in fiction...

When did you start writing short shorts or flash fiction? How did you discover it?

I started writing short stories right at the beginning. I think I’ve always tended towards them. Their structure seems to suit me and I understand it better than any other form. And I’ve always read short stories too, even before I was going to try to be a writer. The really important moment came when I discovered Aimee Bender, Etgar Keret and Sarah Salway, because after reading what they’d written I realised that I could write the sort of stuff I’d wanted to, with a chance of it being successful (of sorts!).

Do particular themes crop up in your writing in general?

Love, loss, relationships, being different, melancholic, darkly humorous - so people tell me! I don’t ever intend to incorporate any particular themes, they’re just kind of there!

My favourite story in the book was ‘Shark Boy’. The ending was just beautiful and heart-stopping all at once. Which is yours, and can you say why?

Thank you! I’m rather fond of Shark Boy too!

I don’t think I have a favourite – I’m very happy with all of them. I must say that I enjoy reading ‘In My Head I’m Venus’ though...

If you were to write a non-fiction book, what would it be about?

Ooh, good question! And, err, I don’t know! Mythology perhaps. Ghosts. Depression. Witchcraft. Curses. Conservation (for that, you can’t beat ‘The Ghost With Trembling Wings’ by Scott Weidensaul). I like those sorts of things. They’re interesting. Thing is, there are people far better suited to write those kinds of things who are much, much cleverer than me. I’d never say never though...!

Who are your favourite writers, of any genre?

Golly! Far too many to name them all. Here’s who comes to mind straight away:

Kurt Vonnegut, Aimee Bender, Etgar Keret, Mary Miller, Raymond Carver, Joyce Carol Oates, Michael Czyzniejewski, Michael Kimball, Sarah Salway, Arthur C. Clarke, Neil Gaiman, Alice Sebold, Caroline Smailes, Franz Kafka, A.C. Tillyer and Amy Hempel.

Thanks for popping round! Good luck with the book.

Thanks so much for having me! It’s been a pleasure. Next time – my place and I’ll provide the tea!

Nik Perring is a writer, and occasional teacher of writing, from the north west. His short stories have been published widely in places including SmokeLong Quarterly, 3 :AM and Word Riot. They’ve also been read at events and on radio, printed on fliers and used as part of a high school distance learning course in the US.

Nik’s debut collection of short stories, NOT SO PERFECT is published by Roast Books and is out now. Nik blogs here and his website’s here.

Friday Flash 2

2010-06-11T14:14:00.003+01:00

Another Scottish apocalypse this week, but no zombies.

Highland Visitor

"I'll get it!" I scrambled over the squidgy eiderdown walls of the fort ahead of Rose, skidded across the wooden hall floor in my socks and pulled open the front door, making the wind chime jingle.
"Mam's just in the garden," I said to the angel who stood there. "She's trying to mow the lawn before it gets too dusky. Shall I away and get her?"
"No, no, it's fine," said the angel. "I don't want to bother her if she's busy. I'd just like a glass of water, if that's okay?"
"Caitrin!" hissed Rose from behind my knees. "We're not supposed to let strangers in without Mam."
"Aye, it's alright, it's an angel. Mam won't mind."
I pushed Rose backwards across the floor on her behind and stood back to let the angel in. He sidled in, looking a fair bit embarrassed.
"I won't stay long," he said. "I don't want to get you into any trouble."
He had a lovely voice, all warm and treacly.

I led him through to the kitchen and sat him down at the table. Mam would be far more annoyed if I was rude to a guest. The angel was carrying a wee golden trumpet and one of those swingy things you put incense in at church. Rose was still shuffling around on the floor and I could see she had spied the trumpet. She always acted skitty around people she didn't know and I was going to give her a proper chiding when the angel had gone.
To get her to act nicely I sent Rose to fetch some water, although I knew she'd have to stand on her pink stool to reach the tap. I asked the angel what he was doing all the way up in these parts.
"It's the apocalypse, you see," said the angel in his treacley voice. "I'm early, though." He leaned forward and I leaned in too. "Can you keep a secret?"
I nodded. "Aye."
"I'm a temp. I'm not supposed to be on duty at all. Half of the office is out on training and then the call came through." The angel shrugged and sighed. "I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get here so I set off early and of course now I'm the first one."
I'd had that before, that time of the junior disco down in the town, and I nodded.
Rose came back in the glass of water and put it on the table without spilling a drop.

Outside I could still hear the mower rattling around the garden with Mam in tow.
The angel took a few sips then put his glass down.
"I'd better go. Thanks for the water."
He seemed very jumpy now, nerves I suppose, and as I showed him to the door I gave his hand a wee squeeze.
"Good luck with the apocalypse."
The angel returned me a grin and a shrug.
"Thank you." And he disappeared off into the gloom.

Friday Flash

2010-06-04T13:26:00.005+01:00

How about a bit of zombie apocalypse-themed flash fiction for a Friday?

Preparation

When the zombie apocalypse came, Dev and his friends were ready. They’d trained, prepared, and visualised every step of their plan. As lifelong fans of quality science fiction they had always anticipated the day there would be news that an extremely contagious virus had leaked from a top-secret, high-security government lab causing people to eat their victims’ brains, and it was their sworn duty to run away very quickly.

The call from Hamish came at 10.20 a.m. Dev was at a job down in Leith fixing a pipe at a flat when that mobile started to ring with the signature theme from Shaun of the Dead.
“Hamish, tell me it’s true.”
“Dev, it’s all over News 24. An extremely contagious virus has leaked from a top-secret, high-security government lab causing people to eat their victims’ brains.”
“Let’s roll.”

They met at Hamish’s comic book shop, Vintage Vault, on South Clerk Street. Dev could see Sandy’s van parked outside. Inside, Sandy had an impressive array of weaponry stolen from the Royal Mile tourist shop he sometimes worked in.
“I’ve got a double-headed replica medieval axe each and two genuine Braveheart broadswords between the three of us. They’re for chopping off heads. The crossbows are for long-range action.”
“Good work, Sandy,” said Dev.

They loaded up the van with supplies stored in the back room of Vintage Vault: tins of food, a laptop, matches, first aid kits, sleeping bags, seeds, spades, oil lamps, gas burners, packets of crisps, cans of drink, radio equipment, and the box sets of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Farscape. The roads were quiet – the outbreak was confined to the South East of England for now – and as they joined the A90 the mood of optimism and camaraderie rose.
“The sat-nav reckons another four hours till we get to Loch Maree,” said Hamish. They high-fived and went over their plans for fortifications.

Twenty-eight weeks later and the country had fallen to the zombie plague, although pockets of resistance were left in the cities, according to radio broadcasts, and isolated crofts held out.
Up at Hamish’s grandma’s house on Loch Maree, Dev was bored and hungry. There hadn’t been electricity for months so the television and computer were useless, and the tinned food had all gone. The seeds couldn’t be planted till spring and worse, Hamish’s grandma was driving them mad with her constant talk of the War and how much better her generation would have coped with a zombie apocalypse. It had also dawned on them that none of them had girlfriends so repopulating the world was out.

Dev walked into the kitchen where Hamish and Sandy were playing cards.
“I’m going,” he said. Hamish and Sandy looked at each other.
“The van’s already loaded up,” said Sandy. With a desultory high-five they stashed Hamish’s grandma in the back seat and headed south.
“Glasgow or Edinburgh?” asked Dev.
“Edinburgh. Better class of zombie,” said Hamish. Sandy remained silent and concentrated on sharpening the weapons.

Review: 'Not So Perfect' by Nik Perring (Roastbooks)

2010-06-02T00:27:00.007+01:00

The year I discovered flash fiction was incidentally the same year I discovered petits fours, the delicious bite-sized cakes and biscuits. Both are tiny, both are satisfying when done well, and both are an art form in their own right.

As a writer and reader of flash fiction, I know that it is very, very difficult to achieve that sense of satisfaction in so few words (generally under 1000). The brief nature of the form, however, can lend itself to experimentation far more so than longer short stories or novels.

In terms of language flash fiction has much in common with poetry. Every word matters. Characters must be sketched with economy, more like a line drawing than a painting. You have to absorb the reader from the first line, and the sum of the story should be far more than the individual words. In short, it should take flight.

My first impression of the book was how entirely gorgeous it is; the covers are artworks, the paper is thick, the font is pleasing and the size is just so unusual: square and begging to be gift-wrapped.

There are twenty-two stories in total, each tiny, complete slivers of life. The reader slices through at a tangent: details, snatches of conversation, brushstroke backgrounds are picked up on the way past.

Several of the stories spin around experimental concepts: a mechanical woman finds her perfect mate; a woman vomits animals; a gardener talks to his flowers, who listen; a man just fades away. You are trusted to not need explanation. For me they work as stories because you don’t feel the need to ask why, although if you aren't a fan of the off-kilter this could be a drawback.

Other stories are more conventional. My favourite of these is 'Sobs', about two lonely people in adjoining hotel rooms.

Some stories are more successful than others, but all of them work as good flash fiction should: they are greater than the sum of their parts. In ‘Seconds are Ticking By’ and ‘Shark Boy’ I felt Nik Perring demonstrates just what flash fiction should be when it is perfect: they flew. Then they lodge themselves inside you and flutter for long after you’ve read them.

If this book were food it would be an exquisite plate of petits fours. You admire them and nibble at them, wary of guzzling or you’d finish too soon. They are perfectly delicious.

'Not So Perfect' by Nik Perring is released 2nd June 2010

Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

2010-05-27T18:02:00.004+01:00

I have been powering ahead with the novel this week. Unfortunately, a change to a sub plot meant I also had to delete 4000 words.

That's a total of 70,000 words I have deleted from the novel altogether. The word count is now still hovering at about 40,000. There's a long way to go.

Knee-Deep in Novel

2010-05-25T14:21:00.006+01:00

I haven't blogged recently because I've been writing. So, I really shouldn't tell myself off for not blogging.

I have read various books about writing by writers, people like Ray Bradbury and Stephen King, thinking that they must be doing something right.

What leaped out at me from their books was their sense of discipline. Stephen King writes 2000 words every single day. Ray Bradbury sits (sat, now) down on Monday and wrote a story. He rewrote it on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and on Saturday he sent it to a magazine.

I have been getting into a routine of writing 2000 words a day. I used to write and edit simultaneously, going back and rewriting chapters endlessly before moving on. Now, I have taken some very good writerly advice that says 'Plough on! Re-writes are for second drafts, just get the words down.' And they're right.

By creating what I'm calling the Critical Mass, the writing starts to take your ideas and run with them. The characters begin to pull their own weight and, without you knowing, keep on working when you're not. So, you sit back down at your desk to find they have had all sorts of thoughts that you would never have had on your own.

The price of this productivity is jettisoning all short stories and poetry for the time being, as well as my lovely writing community over at WriteWords. They wander in and interrupt the secret meetings my characters are having behind my back, demanding their own meeting rooms and interactive white boards. So I've had to sent them on extended leave, at least until this first draft is done.

Bad Agent Sydney T. Cat

2010-04-24T16:55:00.004+01:00

I haven't done much writing in April. However, I have had Mr Husband's family visiting, an epic road trip down to the beautiful Smokey Mountains in Tennessee with said in-laws, a friend's wedding, an unexpected glut of visitors stranded for days thanks to the Eyjafjallajokull volcano (there's a name I didn't know before last week) and a vomiting bug.

Somewhere in there I fostered 4 teensy kittens with impressive editing skills (I only take on the most talented kitties). Thanks to shameless self-promotion they wheedled their way onto Bad Agent Sydney T. Cat's blog. Kittens, eh? Take a look and see what they've been up to.

Added - Warning: blog link contains photo of me looking a bit rubbish and about 20 years older than normal. Please send Oil of Olay.

Beautiful Blogger Award

2010-04-16T18:50:00.005+01:00

And on a much cheerier note than the last post I have been nominated for a Beautiful Blogger Award by the lovely writer, Jen Bee. She is called Jen, writes and likes tea. What's not to like?

The idea of the Beautiful Blogger Awards is that (and please correct me if I'm wrong) you reveal 7 interesting things about yourself and nominate 15 other people for the award. This is a great way of discovering blogs by other people you might want to hang out with in PiskieWebLand.

Here goes.

Seven interesting things about me:

1) I worked in Australia doing conservation work and travelling for 9 months. I have also volunteered with BTCV in the UK and am the proud holder of a Grade 1 tree felling and Grade 1 hedge laying certificate. We were filmed by the Oz version of the Really Wild Show planting trees with school children, my TV debut.

2) I like pretty much all food except for gherkins, which are the devil's food. I think that's fair enough.

3) I can say many pointless things in Latin, such as agricola taurum fugat ('the farmer chases the bull') and juvenes adeste ('come, young men', interestingly enough also the first line of my school's song, despite it's ethos of teaching only young ladies)

4) At one time I was a project manager for local government.

5) I have also worked as a pancake chef, a mortgage underwriter, Lipton Ice Tea promotion girl (handing out free samples whilst wearing a silly costume), farm worker, and have run my own business as a Small Business Consultant.

6) I think degenerate Piskies run the internet from a cave in Cornwall. These are not to be confused with Pixies, who run everything else.

7) My father-in-law is a puppeteer and my step-sister is a trapeeze artist.

And 15 beautiful bloggers are:
Nik Perring - Nik's Blog
Tania Hershman - Tania Writes
Oonah V. Joslin - Oonahverse
Sarah Hilary - Crawl Space
Sydney T. Cat - Bad Agent Sydney T. Cat
Miss Elliott - Miss Elliott's Fascinating English Blog
Avis Hickman-Gibbs - This Bird's Eyeview

... I'm not going to do 15 I've decided because 15 squared, cubed etc soon becomes exponential and there won't be anyone else left! So look at my links on the side for other informative blogs.

For Sale: Every Day Poets

2010-04-16T18:45:00.003+01:00

My Poem 'For Sale' about a couple splitting up and selling their house is now up at Every Day Poets. Be warned: it is thoroughly depressing.

Image courtesy of CompareNow.com

Ink, Sweat & Tears: Living Shadows

2010-04-01T21:50:00.006+01:00

My flash fiction story 'Living Shadows' is up on the rather wonderful Ink, Sweat & Tears today.

It is based on the shadow puppetry I saw on travels in Malaysia and it is a spooky little tale...

The photo is courtesy of Puppet Craft; check out their site if you love beautiful puppetry.

My Very Own Forgotten Bookmark!

2010-03-30T16:46:00.011+01:00

First, allow me to introduce you to Forgotten Bookmarks. This is the blog of a rare and 2nd hand books shop in New York who post up pictures of the many and various things they find within the books they buy. It is utterly fascinating.

Forgotten Bookmarks did a giveaway recently (they are generous like that) and I won! I received my rather beautiful Collected Works of Leo Tolstoi today and nestled within the pages was a snug little forgotten bookmark listing the major prophets.

FluffyCat, an avid reader, has already settled down to read 'Two Hussars'.

'Watching the Pool' at EDP and my WIP

2010-03-19T16:18:00.006Z

Having left the world of government with a vow never to use another acronym as long as I live, here I am doing it again. *Sigh*

For non-writer folk (that is, people who don't have dialogue-testing conversations with plants, have more blood in their system than tea and who don't check ICanHasCheezburger every fifteen minutes) EDP is the webzine (web-based magazine) Every Day Poets and WIP is my Work In Progress.

Today EDP have put up my poem 'Summer Holiday: Watching the Pool' on their site. EDP is fun because people can rate your poem and leave feedback and it is always good to hear what other people think, especially people who don't know you. Even if it isn't always 100% positive it is always a good lesson for the future.

Now, on to my WIP, the dystopian novel 'Maynard Hill'. I put up a post last summer about the feedback I had had from my novel. While it wasn't all bad (they liked my writing style and opening) they felt 'disappointed' with the story. Everything they said I could see where they were coming from but I just didn't have the energy to start all over again.

However, when I was researching my article about dystopian films, since published in MediaMagazine, I got excited about the genre again. I can do this! I said to the plant.

So I opened that file I hadn't touched in months and went to work. The WIP is now down from just over 100,000 words to 50,000 words. Talk about killing your darlings. I have basically pruned out the dull bits and I'm going to plot out a whole new subplot which will weave into the story and then take it onwards to an more explosive ending set later in the future. Ka-pow!

I have learned such a lot writing flash fiction and short stories and I hope these lessons will translate across. I have thought so much recently about what makes a story; flash fiction can be likened to one of those sketches that only comprises a few well-placed pencil marks but shows character, movement and theme within that.

Wish me luck.

Stuff In My Study

2010-03-12T19:49:00.008Z

Nik Perring has started a trend. What is in your study that makes you happy?

These are some of mine:

1) My Leonardo da Vinci action figure (a birthday present years ago), complete with interchangeable pictures. We have Vitruvian Man at the moment. There is also a green cat from Russia and a frog prince.

2) Me with my sister when I graduated from Bristol University with my Masters in Medieval History on a very hot summer's day. If I sound proud of this, I am; I am now so wonderfully over-stuffed with useless trivia my only hope is to become a writer.

3) My 60's Vietnamese Propaganda Lady. The translation reads: The national empires and reaction should not unwise touch this country. I thought about hanging it on the door but I thought it might put Husband off bringing me tea.

4) My collection of fat Buddhas, along with Death, Luggage and a copy of Mslexia Magazine. Someday I will be published in there... someday.

5) My favourite pink Monkey Mug for all that tea.

6) A Canned Kangaroo (a souvenir from my friend) with an American flag, and a fabulous pottery pen holder with a little bird on it. The bookmark is Castles of Wales and I must have got it when I was on holiday there aged 8.

100 Stories for Haiti: It's here!

2010-03-05T22:22:00.005Z

100 Stories for Haiti: click here to go to their Buy It page

It's here! It's great! Buy it!

Their blurb:

100 Stories for Haiti is a unique collection of stories bound together by paper and glue and massive amounts of hope. This is no ordinary book. One morning a writer woke up and decided, "I must do something." Hundreds of talented authors worldwide sent him their stories and the result is an anthology that anyone can enjoy.

Proceeds go to helping the victims of the Haiti earthquake. So open this book and pick a page. There's nowhere to start and nowhere to finish. If you find one story, one page, one line entertaining: buy it.

What's not to like?

Cats and Snow Parts 1&2

2010-03-03T19:44:00.004Z

You may remember Part 1 from my post in December. Well, Part 2 of Simon's Cat 'Snow Business' is here!

Our own snow is that grumpy-grey old-age snow that is clinging on, not wanting us to have Spring.

Static Movement: Fourth Breeding

2010-03-02T13:54:00.003Z

Oonah V Joslin just pointed out I'm in Static Movement this month along with her, Jennifer Walmsley and many other lovely people.

My story, Fourth Breeding, is a cat-themed horror story.

Enjoy!

Harlan Ellison: Pay the Writer

2010-02-25T23:43:00.002Z

The wonderfully talented Jonathon Watkins of PhotoGlow fame sent me this link today.
If you would like to watch a writer ranting about being asked to do stuff for free, click below.

(I'm sure he is only talking about people who are profiting from his work.)

Flash Fiction Writing Competitions: Help!

2010-02-24T16:52:00.003Z

I am compiling a list of flash fiction competitions or competitions that have a specific Flash catagory (or short shorts, micro fiction, postcard fiction, however it is called).

Any links hugely welcome, don't worry about duplication, it's better than gaps!

My email address is jenstakes AT hotmail DOT com

'The Legacy of Metropolis' Article

2010-02-22T18:21:00.007Z

The good people at the English and Media Centre have just put up the details of MediaMagazine Issue 31, The Fantasy Issue, on their website.

If you click on the full contents list you will see a familiar name by an article called 'The Legacy of Metropolis'. Yup, that's me, spouting my knowledge of all things dystopian.

I'm waiting to get my copy in the post; I am very excited to see how it looks as they've apparently peppered the article with fabulous film stills.

It is absurdly timely, as Metropolis (1927) has just been shown for the first time in its restored glory at the Berlin Film Festival. The original film had been severely edited on its release in an attempt to please the critics (it didn't) and the missing footage had been languishing in an Argentinian film archive for 80 years until its re-discovery in July 2008.

Now we can finally see the extent of Fritz Lang's genius. I can't wait to see the full version. (And my article!)

Twitter

2010-02-22T15:39:00.007Z

I've joined the world of Twitter and tweeted my first inane chirp. (See new Twitter feed, right.)

Will this just be a further distraction from Actual Work or a useful networking (ugh, horrible word) tool?

So far I am following Stephen Fry (it's obligatory), Neil Gaiman and the rather wonderful TweetTheMeat, who post 140 character horror stories. Believe me, it can be done!

Nearly forgot, it is my 30th birthday today, too. I am mostly spending the day writing poetry. Perfect.

Why Being A Young British Writer is Good

2010-02-18T18:55:00.003Z

I try very hard not to wade into healthcare/environment debates out here in AmericaLand. As a tree-hugging lefty who cares about how chickens/cows are kept this means I practically have to staple my mouth shut sometimes (I would consider my own views quite mainstream at home but here I think they may verge on communist...)

So I never thought I'd spout my opinions on this blog but I saw something posted today that made me think about the difference in being a poet starving in your garret in the UK, as opposed to the USA.

Tania Hershman pointed this out: the average earnings of writers in the UK.
The 'average' writer in my age group earns £14,564, although the median, i.e. typical, earning is £5000. That's not a lot. Generally, you'd have to do something else to keep the wolf from the door. However, I could very easily live on £14,564.

And that's because of something called the National Health Service.
Now, like most people I hadn't given the NHS a lot of thought until I became too ill to work for nearly three years. I had to give up my job. I could barely leave the house and couldn't drive. But, because I had paid National Insurance (this is taken out of your wages and is compulsory) I was given Incapacity Benefit. Not a lot, but it helped. I also had exactly the same access to medical care that I'd had when I was working. After all, if you're not working the idea is to get you better so you can, right? It was all entirely free.

I started writing as therapy - you have to do something all day - and loved it. It really helped me and I slowly, gradually, began to feel better.

I started my own business part time, going into small (generally arts-based) offices and working as a project manager/consultant. This sounds more glamorous than it was, but I was able to work my hours around my illness and never tell my employers about it. There is still a terrible taboo around the words 'Mental Health', and even though I don't think it would have mattered, I still didn't want to say anything.

The rest of the time, health allowing, I wrote.

As a self-employed person working part-time, I didn't have to even think about medical costs. I wasn't forced back into a large company with a health plan. Insurance for cars etc is cheaper because you don't have to worry about massive medical bills. Until I could drive again I could rely on (generally expensive but at least it's there) public transport. Where I live now I'd be stuck without a car.

Student loans in the UK are run from one central body and you don't have to pay them off until you're earning a certain amount (possibly £20,000/$30,000 now?). If you never earn that much you never pay it off. It is supposed to be a tax on the successful, giving back what they have got themselves.

I wasn't earning enough to have to repay my student loan, so I didn't have to consider that in my finances. In any case, the amount is small as the fees for my year (in any university in the country, including Oxford/Cambridge) were £1000. (I don't agree with fees; successful people pay enough taxes anyway and it discourages people from poorer backgrounds. I certainly don't agree with the recent increases. All higher education/training courses/apprentiships should be funded from taxes in my opinion. But.)

By the time I came out here to East Coast America I had started to sell my stories and articles. It was a unique opportunity to do what I love pretty much full-time.

One day, I'll earn enough to be entirely self-supporting. (I still pay National Insurance for self-employed folk out here, by the way). I'll pay back my student loan, pay lots of taxes and be a worthwhile member of the community (by 'community' I mean Bristol, my husband and the cat we'll have by then). I'll be doing something I love and hopefully giving something back. I may even make a difference in other people's lives.

I just don't think I'd have got there if I'd had to worry about medical bills, insurance, student loans (I have a Masters, how much would I owe here?) and running a car by myself.

In my opinion, living in the UK makes things a lot easier for young writers/musicians and artists, people starting up businesses and people on a low income, whether in good health or not.

Off to get on with that novel now. I have nothing to lose but my tea going cold.

Out of Print

2010-02-16T14:50:00.005Z

Nik Perring originally blogged about the wonderful Out Of Print T-Shirt collection...
... But now they've added women's sizes and I do believe my birthday is coming up!

I could wear this whilst writing my dystopian novel. Oh, yes, I've gone back to writing it, more on that later. Also, I have an article coming out about dystopian films and Metropolis. More on that later, too. All very exciting.

So, basically, don't you think it would make a rather wonderful work uniform? I could even add an 'employee of the month' badge if I've been good.

ADDED: I just read this on their website: For each shirt we sell, one book is donated to a community in need through our partner Books For Africa.
What lovely people.

Snowed In

2010-02-12T17:11:00.004Z

Having two epic snowstorms in one week (the second one was quickly named 'Snowzilla') does mean you get a lot of writing done.
However, cabin fever can set in, with the following results:

Yes, that is a snow penguin.

SNOWMAGEDDON 2010

2010-02-07T20:49:00.013Z

Not to exaggerate or anything, but we've just had the Biggest Snow Storm Since the Dinosaurs.
Here are some pictures.

1) A line of snow whales... or cars?
2) Jen Shackleton can't find the Pole under all that snow
3) But she has found the car
4) Stop! Stay inside and drink tea
5) Snow shapes on the decks (the bumps are BBQs)
6) When the sun finally comes out there are some beautiful shapes

Progress

2010-02-03T16:03:00.007Z

So, the good news is... we've sold some copies of my e-story The Glassy Roll of the Eye!
That's a few more dollars towards the Haiti relief effort by the Red Cross.

I could really do with some more reviews, especially by anyone who'd like to buy a copy but is put off by the out-of-States price. ($1 within USA, more outside because of e-book red tape). Hopefully some favourable reviews (hey, you could even just say you like the photograph of the desert!) will help drum up some support.

Thanks to everyone who has bought it so far.

On a related note, 100 Stories for Haiti have just announced the contents of their book - lots of familiar names in there! They must have been working their socks off to get it all together so quickly. I'll put up another link when it's available to buy.

Kindle for PC

2010-02-01T18:17:00.002Z

Lots of people have pointed out that they do not own a Kindle, so can't buy my e-book.

Ah, but you can download the Kindle reader for you PC for free! I just tried it on my own computer so I'll try and walk you through it (I'm not the best at technology, as you know I think piskies run the internet).

1) Go to my shiny new e-book page on Amazon
2) Click on 'Available for your PC' on the right, under 'Buy now with 1-Click'
3) Follow the instructions!
4) Once it's registered on your PC you can buy all the Kindle books you like, and even download the free ones. Yeah!

Any more technology questions? Um, I might be able to help!

E-Book for Haiti Launch

2010-01-30T13:39:00.007Z

Inspired by Crossed Genres' Post a Story for Haiti initiative, I posted a story up on my blog called The Glassy Roll of the Eye, a story about survival.

I've taken it one step further and turned it into an e-book on Amazon! All my author proceeds ($0.35 per sale) will go to the Red Cross Haiti appeal.
You don't need an e-book reader, you can download it to your computer.

It costs $1 in USA but unfortunately, due to international red tape gubbins, it costs over $3 outside USA. And the author proceeds still remain the same.

You can still read it for free on my blog and donate to a relief fund of your choice.

Any reviews/comments on Amazon will be helpful, too, even if you don't buy it.

I'll keep you posted. I'm excited about it, it all feels very 21st Century. And unlike traditional self publishing, we're not losing anything, so let's hope we can raise some money!

Literary Advice: Go for a Walk

2010-01-29T16:45:00.008Z

If you click on the links to other blogs I follow you will find all sorts of advice about writing. Form, point of view, language, voice, beginnings, endings, structure... what could I possibly add that would be useful in any way?

Yesterday I was stuck on a short story. A very short story. How to get what I wanted to say into 200 words, and make it live?

So I went for a walk and I thought, as I was walking, this is the best advice I could give to someone who was in my position.

As I walked the story played around in my head and the important parts floated to the surface. Phrases struck me as odd, out of place, or reconfigured themselves to fit.

The ending that had eluded me came spinning out of nowhere like a comet. I had one of those tremendous 'aha!' moments that stopped me dead, and then I smiled, remembering why I loved writing; I had never had one of those wonderful life-affirming moments as a project manager.

Walking has another literary purpose: you notice things. Trees, colours, sounds, impressions. The feeling when a bird takes off from a tree right next to you, the sensation of pushing at the ice on the edge of a lake and watching the air move underneath.

Characters, too. I passed an elderly Chinese man, muffled up to the ears, taking his daily constitutional. A couple jogging in his-and-her matching Lycra.
I was bewildered by a loud whirring noise until I came around a corner to find a smartly-dressed father walking next to his young son who was driving a tiny electric car. It was either adorably cute or a horrendous symbol of extravagant Western consumerism. You decide.

Lastly, walking wakes up the mind, it's good for you and it's free!

'The Linnet's Wings' Winter 2010

2010-01-25T20:55:00.004Z

The Winter 2010 edition of The Linnet's Wings is out now in e-zine and paper format.

My flash story 'No Such Thing as a Free Tea' is in there, as is a poem by Oonah V. Joslin and a story by Bill West, among the many wonderful offerings.

Check out the stunning photography and artwork as well, the image above is just one example.

Post a Story for Haiti - 'The Glassy Roll of the Eye'

2010-01-19T22:36:00.012Z

Crossed Genres, the sience fiction and fantasy e-zine, have asked writers to post stories to encourage readers to donate money to charities helping in the Haiti crisis. If you enjoyed my own story (or even if you didn't) please click on the link below to see some of the charities involved and make a donation, or support any other charity you know of who are involved. There are links to many other stories on their site.

Crossed Genres website

This story has not yet been published... I hope you like it.

The Glassy Roll of the Eye

Louis had never broken a bone in his life and could have picked a better place than the New Mexico desert for his first experience. He’d left the motel early, hitching his way to where he’d heard there were some good rock art. The colors kept clear and bright in the dry heat, and some were as sharp as the day they had been painted.
Sketchbook under his arm, he had set out east, eyes roaming the landscape for likely material. He had filled fifteen pages when the accident happened. He was climbing down off a rock when he slipped and landed badly, feeling his ankle snap with a sickening jolt of pain. The rock hadn’t even been high.
Louis began to crawl west; splintered stones cut into his knees and palms and his ankle shot red pain down his whole body every time he moved. He calculated he had walked over five miles from the highway and the sun was reaching its highest point. He rechecked his cell phone constantly but it refused to show a signal. There was nothing he could do but crawl onwards, picking his way over the searing ground.
Panic started to creep up on him as the sun neared the horizon. He pressed on, aware that his ankle had swollen to revolting proportions.
Night fell fast in the desert and stars blazed bright across the sky; Louis could appreciate their beauty through his pain and increasing delirium. He lay on his back and rested, unable to sleep through the pain. He knew that if he continued at night he could well go around in circles.
As the dawn stretched over the horizon he continued his agonizing journey, his back to the light and his eyes fixed on the last of the stars. By eleven a.m. the earth swam in a red-gold heat haze. Louis’ vision flashed with streaks of light, then faded to black.

When Louis opened his eyes he was looking into the jagged, naked face of a vulture, its eyes rolling glassily.
“I’m not dead yet,” he spat out of his concrete mouth.
“Yes, you are,” said the vulture. “You were dead the moment you set out on this little jaunt of yours. Stupid, it was, right from the word go. You didn’t even tell the folks back at the motel where you were going. Stupid.”
“If you’re going to eat me could you at least start with my left foot? It’s killing me.”
“Oh, good: grave humor,” said the vulture. “That’ll come in handy where you’re going.”
Louis ignored the vulture and pulled himself along the dusty ground. The vulture walked alongside, keeping pace with him.
“So what do you do, anyway?” asked the vulture.
“I’m a blacksmith.”
“Then what the hell are you doing out here in this god-forsaken wasteland?” The vulture looked around in an exaggerated manner. “I’m not spying any ponies.”
“I do metal design. With wrought iron.”
“Seriously, who buys that?”
“People do.”
“How much did you make last year? I bet you still live with your folks, don’t you? And you’ve got to be, what, thirty-five?”
“Thirty-three, actually.”
“It’s time to fly the nest, Sonny Jim. My babies were kicked out the second they could flap.”
“I’m working on an exhibition. I’ve been traveling the world this year to get folkloric designs.”
“Very impressive, I’m sure. So where’s your sketchbook?”
Louis stopped for a moment and looked into the vulture’s raw-pink face. “It’s stuffed down the back of my jeans.”
“That’s got to be kinda uncomfortable and you’re hardly in the best shape. You must like your sketches.”
“I do.”
“So what about your wife?”
“My wife?”
“You’re thirty-three! You should be married, nesting.”
“Maybe later, when I’m rich and successful. I’m not quite the alpha-male type yet. Women tend to leave me when I can’t buy them dinner.”
“Then why don’t you get a proper job? At least then you’d have a chance of getting a female.”
“I’m not going to live a half-life just so I can afford to take some girl out. That’s not living, that’s existing.”
“That’s all I do,” said the vulture.
“That’s too bad. You’re missing out.” Louis lowered himself flat on the ground and reached into the back of his jeans, grimacing with pain as he pulled out the book. He flicked through the sheets then tore round one of the intricate images. He held it out to the vulture, who took it in his beak.
“That’s for your nest,” said Louis. “Your wife might like it.”
“Thanks,” croaked the vulture though the paper in his beak. He put it down on the ground and studied it. “Hey, that’s nice! I’m keeping that, it might be worth a fortune some day.”
“Droll.”
“Hey, I’m not kidding. You’ve got a talent. You’d best stop lazing around in the sun and get your ass back to your anvil or whatever you use.”
Louis rolled his eyes.
“It’s alright, not far now,” said the vulture.
Louis noticed that at some point the vulture had hopped ahead and he had been unconsciously following him. He hauled himself onwards, palms bleeding and jeans ripped to rags. His foot dragged behind him, twisted and grotesque.
Louis’ hand touched something strange and he looked up, unable to comprehend at first what he was seeing. He ran his fingers over the dark asphalt and turned to the vulture.
“We made it. It’s the highway.” And he lay his head down on a piece of frayed blown-out tire and waited for help.
The vulture watched Louis’ inert form for a while. He put the sketch down on the ground, cocking his head and regarding it with his marble-bright eyes.
“Nice. Real nice.”
He stayed there, patient as stone, until a plume of wheel dust smoked upwards in the distance, then picked up the paper and flapped his heavy, cumbersome wings, inching his way into the air in the search for something closer to death.

2010

2010-01-02T18:45:00.005Z

Happy New Year!

If I'd been asked, ten years ago, what was going to happen over the coming decade I doubt much of what actually did happen would have been on the list. Some things have been far more wonderful than I could have ever imagined, some infinitely worse.
Adventures around the globe with a wonderful man would have been the stuff of dreams. The long-term illness that knocked me down for a couple of years and effectively ended a promising high-flying career came out of nowhere. But it was in recuperating that I turned back to my love of writing and learned the value of all sorts of things I had probably been too arrogant to appreciate before. My virtual writing colleagues are much nicer too. I'm not saying that each day I'm able to sit down at a computer and put my imaginary worlds into words I think about how lucky I am. I should, but I'm more likely to think about running out of milk and whether I should vacuum the carpet.

If I'd been asked what I thought about a scenario in which I was living in America trying to make a go of writing I would have been delighted, although I think I'd have maybe imagined a few more pennies coming in. But there's still time for all that. 2010 is so chock full of new projects that I may have to get a bigger brain to store them all in. There's the horror novel, short stories galore and the possibility of fostering a cat (animal shelters want people to look after kitties until they can be re-homed). Cats help productivity no end, I am sure. I thought about focusing solely on the novel but I love writing flashes (a discovery of 2009), not to mention the lift you get when something gets published and the inspiration messing around with ideas gives you. The novel itself is based on a flash.
I think I am over the disappointment of Maynard Hill's failure to find a publisher (despite some decent praise) to get stuck into the new novel. This time more commercial; MH was definitely a niche market.

Enough ramblings, let's get some words written. A happy, healthy and productive New Year to you all.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T16:31:00.010Z

Merry Christmas to you all, I hope you have a wonderfully literary 2010!

There is still a good pile of snow here and it looks magical.

Bewildering Stories: Fourth Quarterly Review

2009-12-24T16:27:00.003Z

Bewildering Stories have published their Fourth Quarterly Review and my flash 'Eensy Weensy' is there.

Bewildering Stories have been very supportive of my work this year, so a big Happy Christmas to all the team there!

Cats and Snow

2009-12-17T16:24:00.004Z

There seems to be a lot of love for cats and snow right now, so here's a little Simon's Cat treat for you.

Happy Christmas!

Brenda's Knickers at Every Day Poets

2009-12-14T14:51:00.005Z

I have a very silly poem, Brenda's Knickers, up at Every Day Poets today.

Enjoy!

Photo courtesy of opheliafancy.com, purveyors of some rather wonderful vintage lingerie.

How Writing a Short Story is like Meeting a Cat for the First Time

2009-12-13T20:06:00.004Z

Nik Perring has been asking us to draw story shapes of our Works In Progress.

Well, I had this in mind when I was writing a recent short story set in a motorway service station in Northern England. It seemed quite linear, with little drops into the past and some arches to the future, which would have made quite a nice scribble, had I tried to put it onto paper.

The afternoon was wearing on so I went for a run before the light went completely. It was unbelievably cold; the little lake was still frozen solid and my lungs were beginning to hurt from the icy air. Then I met a cat.

I was a little surprised as cats aren't allowed out of the house in this freakily-controlled Stepford-Wife-Perfect area I live in. Most are de-clawed so they don't shred the furniture. Yes, that is illegal in Britain. So I hadn't seen any cats around before.

I like cats so I wanted to say hello and make friends with it. I crouched down and held out my hand. It looked interested. I said, "Hello, Cat," in my most cat-friendly voice. It trotted over and bumped its nose against my hand. I stroked its head and it started to purr. It rubbed around my legs and let me tickle its chin. We had a nice chat about how cold it was and how snow is no good for kitty feet.

Then I said goodbye and trotted off. The cat watched me leave.

So... the point being: as I ran off up the Big Hill I thought about short stories and how they are like meeting a cat for the first time. The story is already there, that is what you have to remember. You just have to coax it out, make friends with it, and then it will start purring and roll over to have its tummy tickled.

So here is my picture of me meeting a Short Story Cat for the first time:

First Snow!

2009-12-07T20:06:00.007Z

On Saturday morning it started snowing. And snowing. And snowing. The world turned dark, grey and invisible. It was a day that makes little writers want to take a Thermos of tea, a large bar of Dairy Milk and hibernate in their dens until Spring.

And then the next day something happened. The sun came out and the world turned to diamonds. I uncurled from my den, sniffed the air and ventured cautiously out into the sunshine.

What a stunning day. I walked about four miles from my house, taking pictures and wondering at the transformation; only a few weeks ago we had been wearing t-shirts and having barbecues.

I met two joggers and a man walking his dog. They all said 'hi!' in a 'well, look at this!' sort of way.

During the summer months the woods are filled with dense, lush vegetation that makes it all look positively tropical. This all dies back in winter and you can see much further into the trees. Things become visible that you are usually only aware of through rustlings and the sinister cracking of branches...
'Bugger off,' they seemed to say.

I spied a few snowmen but here was the strange thing. It was a beautiful, snowy Sunday but I didn't see a single child. Where were they all? In Britain they'd all be out pelting each other with snowballs and sledging into trees, right?

The place was deserted. Maybe the snowmen had made themselves or were visitors from another dimension.

Well, one thing's for sure. Winter has arrived.

Every Day Poets Celebrates St Andrew's Day with 'Arthur's Seat'

2009-11-29T22:46:00.005Z

Happy St. Andrew's Day!

I am chuffed that my poem, 'Arthur's Seat', is the Scottish-themed poem celebrating St. Andrew's Day on Every Day Poets today.

I went to university in Edinburgh and used to climb up Arthur's Seat, a hill just outside of the city, when I was feeling contemplative. It is one of the best views of Edinburgh.
There was a tradition during Freshers' Week that you climbed up to watch the sunrise. I remember staggering up in some very impractical shoes at 3am having just left a club. By 4am we were very cold and very sober. It had also struck us that sunrise in Scotland in October might not be till around 7.30am and we could really do with some better coats. Still, that's what education is all about.

The sharp-eyed amongst you will notice this picture is of St Andrews cathedral. It was taken last Spring when I was up there for a wedding. Unfortunately, all my university pictures were taken before the days of digital cameras and are in storage so I can't show you the Arthur's Seat view; you'll have to read the poem to get a sense of that. Or look it up in Google images.

Have a great St. Andrew's Day, wherever you are. My thoughts will be in Scotland today.

I Won a Book Today!

2009-11-29T17:08:00.004Z

Strictly Writing had an interview with Gavin James Bower recently. If you left a comment you could win a copy of his book, Dazed and Aroused. I was the lucky recipient!

Here is the blurb from Bower's novel:

Dazed & Aroused
Gavin James Bower
For six hectic months, season to season in the High Fashion calendar, twenty-something male model Alex hurtles between London, Paris and Milan, absorbed in the ruthless world of the catwalk. His long-term girlfriend, Nathalie, is desperate to rekindle their love; his oldest friend, Hugo, though regarding Alex’s so-called career as frivolous, continues to urge fidelity; while his father, reduced to a voice on an answer machine, nevertheless persists in seeking his estranged son’s approval. As his stock as a model soars, Alex is increasingly drawn into a world of predatory sex, drug-induced infatuation and a growing bewilderment with the alluring, seductive shallowness of all he sees around him. The centre cannot hold ...

The novel is based on Bower's own experiences as a model. He has also worked as a journalist, and a screenplay and second novel are in the works. As I am guessing he is still only in his mid-to-late twenties he is only just getting going.
Watch out for this one!

Click here for the link to Quartet Books' website.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-26T00:01:00.006Z

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. What a wonderful, inclusive festival: taking time out to give thanks... and eat big piles of food.

It is also my first proper Thanksgiving in the States and 12 real, actual Americans are coming round to our house where they will be getting a slightly British twist on the whole thing: turkey, roast potatoes (Americans don't do roast potatoes, which is just plain wrong), Bisto gravy, mince pies and brandy butter (why not?), stuffing, and all the usual trimmings. They'll be bringing such legendary dishes as green bean casserole (possibly with marshmallows?), yams and various pumpkin-related fare. Don't expect me to be able to move for the next few days.

I've been thinking of things I've been thankful for over the last year. Obviously, I got married and came out here, which was all very exciting.

Writing-wise I realised that this time last year I had never had anything published outside of work-related magazines and university newspapers. In fact, this time last year I was feeling decidedly despondent that my novel was deemed 'not commercial' (but well-written, which I took hope from).

I only had my first piece of fiction published in The Pygmy Giant about six months ago. Since then I have been scribbling away at flash fiction, short stories and poetry and have had some successes, with more in the pipeline.

I am thankful for the sharing environment and constructive criticism of my lovely online writing groups at WriteWords, as well as for their incredibly high standards that have pushed me and pushed me.
I am thankful for everyone in my life who has encouraged me to write, or at least not laughed at me too much.
I am thankful to everyone who has published any work of mine. They certainly didn't have to!
I am also thankful for tea and cake.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all! What are you thankful for?

Bewildering Stories: Eensy Weensy

2009-11-16T15:47:00.005Z

I've always been suspicious of the spider that lives under the bath. What does he do there all day? Plotting and planning, organising his kingdom come the revolution, I imagine.

So I wrote a little story, Eensy Weensy, about this evil wee beastie, which Bewildering Stories have published this week.

Also, check out Oonah V Joslin's poem, Whatever Happened to Tea - and Sympathy?

Writing in America

2009-11-12T17:52:00.006Z

Inspired by Tania Hershman's recent posts about ex-pat writers (or in her case, recently repatriated ex-pat writers) I decided to think a little about how the move has affected my writing.

I am currently sitting in my study in my house just outside Washington DC. I put up a photo of this room a few posts ago, but that was before the clutter arrived with the shipping. It is now filled with books, pictures, printers, bits of miscellaneous paper and my trusty Leonardo da Vinci action figure.

Out of my window I can see typical neat suburban houses. A couple of times a day a yellow school bus comes round picking up and dropping off kids. The families here are a complete mix of colours and religions; it’s far more multicultural than where I’ve just left in the West Country. The kids all look like your typical American kids: climbing onto the bus in jeans, sweaters and sneakers… do they realise that most of the rest of the world have to wear school uniforms? It’s a million miles from my old tartan skirt and tie, with regulation bottle green woollen jumper.

So that gives a little snapshot of my surroundings.

Since leaving Leeds in 1998 I have lived in Edinburgh, New York State, Australia, Bristol and Gloucestershire. And now back to America. I have travelled in South East Asia for several months, Central America, Europe, and once did a road trip across America. To say I have itchy feet is an understatement.

It felt quite natural to up and leave to another country. Much of my writing is influenced by places I have been and I was excited to think of the inspiration my new surroundings would give me.

The speech patterns are different in America. It isn’t just the words and phrases people use, it’s the whole rhythm of speech. This also varies hugely by state and by cultural background. I know the language is the same but I feel like a fish out of water every time I go up to someone and ask for something, or speak on the phone. I rehearse what I am going to say. It’s not like you can get away without speaking, everyone talks to you in shops, queues (lines!), lifts, etc. Then there is the slight double-take, pause and, “where is that accent from?” Most people say they “love the way I talk,” which is probably a different reaction than other immigrants might get and maybe I should be grateful for that, but it would be nice to not have to think so much about interactions.

So how have my experiences so far affected my writing?

I am far more aware of speech patterns when writing now. I have written various pieces set in America and I try to make the ‘voice’ authentic.

The landscape, cities, countryside, urban areas, all slip into my writing. I am more respectful of trees now. Forests, rather. Trees here go on for hundreds of miles. There are so many of them. Even in my civilised little suburb I never feel too far from some very wild trees. Nature is bigger here. Everything is bigger! I would like to get a sense of than expansiveness into my writing.

I have started writing more poetry here. Poetry happens when I am feeling introspective, which is not surprising. I have started my second novel, too. Somehow new projects and new beginnings go well together. Or maybe I have just picked up on that infectious American spirit. Yes, we can!

Is it too late for a Halloween poem?

2009-11-02T17:44:00.004Z

Californian Pumpkin-Carving Party

“Bring beers and a pumpkin,” called Jeff
as he pulled away from the kerb.
I watched him go, dreading the party
but knowing Hot Amy, Jeff’s girlfriend,
(pretty eyes, great ass) would be there
and Jeff said she’d be bringing friends.

Jeff was a big kid: he’d gone to town at Target,
buying armfuls of pumpkin crap
and wheeling the cart out to his car
under the luminous, sun-bleached sky,
sweating with the effort.

Orange scoops and plastic-handled knives,
books with themed transfers and skeleton-
design beer smothered the table
with their kitchness. Hot Amy had taped
a bat transfer on her pumpkin and her tongue
stuck out a little with the work of carving.
Her friend had a thick waist and coffee breath.

My pumpkin was the stray no-one wanted,
left on the shelf as the Christmas decorations
flooded in to take their place.
Too tall and thin to fit a transfer,
I freestyled (after three beers I had
more enthusiasm) and carved a bat like Amy’s.
But not like Amy’s. “Looks like a palm tree,”
said Jeff. So a sawed a trunk.
“That’s not scary,” said Amy’s coffee-breath friend.
I took the little knife out of her clammy hand
and made a couple of raindrops.
“That’s my idea of scary,” I said.

A Halloween Story for You

2009-10-28T19:11:00.007Z

Mr and Mrs Blearmont

The feud had started when my son lent their son his copy of Harry Potter at school. I had opened the door that evening to Mr and Mrs Blearmont’s furious faces. They had asked me whether my corruption of their boy was intentional or whether I was just stupid? I opted for stupid, which made them even angrier.

This year the children were old enough to go Halloween trick-or-treating on their own, providing they stayed in the cul-de-sac and Will looked after Elspeth. I have to admit I welled up a bit watching Will fix an errant glow-in-the-dark nail back to his little sister’s finger as they left.

When they came back Elspeth was in tears.

“What happened?” I asked in my sternest voice.

“Mr and Mrs Blearmont just went off at us!” said Will, looking injured that I could have thought it was something he’d done. “They started ranting about All Saints’ Day and church and all that gubbins. Said it was a religious day and ‘not for those who seek to profit by witchcraft’.”

I should have warned them not to go to Number 13 but I have to admit I snorted at his excellent impression of Mrs Blearmont. I took their Sainsbury’s bags off them (thoughtful that they made them such a seasonal orange) and led them through to the kitchen where my cauldron was just coming to the boil.

“Now that woman is talking out of her bottom, I’ll have you know,” I said, scooping a cupful of the uplifting potion I had just brewed for each of the children and handing them both a Liquorice Allsort.

“We had Samhain first and they stole it off us with all their goody-two-shoes saints nonsense. They’re just cross that our party was more popular.”

I dried Elspeth’s tears with a flick of my wand and took a Mint Imperial for myself.

Welcome!

2009-10-27T16:02:00.003Z

We've had some new followers to Writer in the Wilderness recently, as well as a few more who subscribe (I'm not sure what that actually means. I think the Piskies give them a nudge when I put a new post up).

So, welcome to you all and thanks for joining me here in my little corner of the blogosphere. There's tea and biscuits in the tins by the kettle, please help yourself.

The picture is of the berries on the Heavenly Bamboo (not a true bamboo, it keeps to itself and doesn't spread like bamboo does) that lives on my balcony. He is looking beautiful at the moment; autumn suits him.

Horror!

2009-10-26T13:31:00.007Z

Happy Spooky Season!

To celebrate all things ghoolie and ghostie I have been carving pumpkins as you can see... the bottom right one was supposed to be a scary pig but looks more like a Spanish Civil War ringmaster. Maybe that's scarier.

My flash, Prayer in the Storm, written for their Past-themed Halloween contest, is up at MicroHorror today. Read and enjoy!

Mrs Aldershott and Pease Pottage

2009-10-20T16:20:00.006+01:00

My story, Mrs. Aldershott and Pease Pottage is out now in the November (not October, as previously mentioned!) issue of First Edition Magazine, available from WH Smiths and Borders.

Unfortunately, it is only for sale in Actual Real Paper (ARP) format in the UK but there is a web edition that you can download from the website although (sensibly, perhaps) they still have the October edition up at the moment.

The story tells of a Cornish Piskie who has run away from his job loading the internet because he is fed up with all the porn. A chance meeting with a sweet old lady with a crush on Alan Titchmarsh changes his perpective.

As you can imagine, I am excited about being in an ARP story magazine and can't wait to see it when it finally finishes its swim across The Pond. Hope it's not too wet.

UPDATE...
Nope, that's wrong. I've just been looking at their website and you can order a copy from anywhere in the world but there's no web version. Sorry about that!

Bewildering Stories: Third Quarterly Review

2009-09-28T18:53:00.003+01:00

My poem, Chess, is one of the editors' choices for the Third Quarterly Review at Bewildering Stories.

Also, congratulations to Oonah V. Joslin for her short story Pure Research, also up there!

See link to the right of the page.

Exciting news!

2009-09-25T16:49:00.006+01:00

My story Mrs Aldershott and Pease Pottage will be in the October issue of First Edition.
I'll put up a link with the others on the right hand side of the page when it's out. It is available in actual real paper format from WH Smith's and Borders.

And an exciting shipping update... it's here!! I haven't done any writing over the last couple of days because I've been unpacking 61 boxes of Stuff. I have books on bookshelves, teacups in the cupboard and immense amounts of chocolate on what has now become the Chocolate Shelf.
My lovely pristine study is not quite so stark any more and is knee deep in clutter, as every good study should be.

A Room of One's Own

2009-09-17T18:31:00.005+01:00

It seems that each week we are here in our new life in Americaland we move a step closer to being Properly Settled In. Nested, maybe.

The first week it was the connection of the internet.
Getting my own car was certainly a biggie; options for public transport out in the suburbs are severely limited to non-existent. We are now a two-car family, which feels very strange and not a little guilt-inducing.

Last week the acquisition of my own desk and chair caused great jubilation (biscuits were consumed with gay abandon). A friend mentioned he had them mouldering away in his garage and would be grateful if I could take them off his hands. No further encouragement was needed and they were quickly installed in the little bedroom, henceforth known as Jen's Study. Yes, I had a room of my own, and Virginia Woolf posted her congratulations up on my Facebook page.

It is further from the kettle than the kitchen table where I used to write, but it doesn't cause back pain after a day of typing, which has to be an improvement. My friend will have to get an acknowledgement when I finally publish a novel.

You may notice the study is a little bare. It has all the important details: laptop, tea, etc., but our shipping is yet to arrive so the pictures and books will be moving in at a later date. The ship has now docked but the boxes have to clear Customs, a terrifying prospect. If my four mega-boxes of Yorkshire Tea or supply of Cadbury's doesn't get through I'll be marching down there with a sharp stick, I tell thee.

Day Without Cats? Pah, I say.

2009-09-10T20:09:00.004+01:00

Only a day late to protest but...
Apparently, September 9th was declared 'Day Without Cats' by the Interweb.

Pah!

Here is my kitteh lying in wait on the bird bath for some tasty treats.

And the Winner is...

2009-09-02T15:24:00.003+01:00

Thank you to everyone who entered my mini-competition. A quick reminder of the theme:

What is the plural of synopsis?
Or, what is the collective noun for synopsis?

Not surprisingly, you all knew what the plural of synopsis is: synopses. So a point to everyone, and not a silly answer in sight!

More worryingly, the mere mention of the word sent everyone running for the gin bottle.

1st prize for the collective noun goes to Sarah Hillary's 'A SOD IT! of synopses', with extra points awarded for capital letters.
Sarah, I'm afraid I don't have a trophy cup as promised but I do have an espresso cup, which I hope you will find more useful, if less glorious.

Happy Birthday!

2009-09-01T17:18:00.003+01:00

It is the first birthday of Tania Hershman's The White Road and Other Stories today.
Nik's Blog has a birthday interview with her and there's a chance to win a free signed copy!

An Inspirational Rejection

2009-08-27T21:28:00.005+01:00

Well, this is a new one: an inspirational rejection.

Thank you for letting us see "The Prison," but we've decided to pass.

Ok, that starts off quite normally...

This would make an absolutely gorgeous poem. It doesn't quite have the complete story arc I'm seeking right now for our Flash.

Um... do you know? They're right! It really would make a better poem than it would a piece of flash fiction.

And do you know what I'm going to do right now? Yes, I'm going to turn it into a poem. And then I'm going to go ahead and sub it straight back to them! After all, it was their idea.

The Magical, Magical Internet

2009-08-26T17:00:00.015+01:00

Every so often I take a step back and wonder how the world hasn't been blown off course by the explosion of the internet.

We have entirely absorbed it into our lives: email, Google, online banking, job hunting, blogging, travel booking, price comparison, information, information, information galore.

One group especially that has been able to take advantage of the internet revolution is the writers of the world.

The other day I was writing a short story and needed a fictitious company name. I searched for my company on the web to check it wasn't already in existence, thus possibly saving me a lot of hassle in the future. Before this information was available at the click of a button I would have had to go... where exactly? I'd have contacted (written to/phoned) Companies House in Britain for a start. But where do I go to find out about the rest of the world? Does it matter for legal reasons? Again, I can research this very question now: the information is all there.

And what would Charles Dickens have done if he needed to know how olives were processed? He would have had to have visited a library and waded through volumes of information to find what he needed. Of course, there is no substitute for decent research but when you just need a nugget of information to bring your short story to life the internet in invaluable in the amount of time and cost it can save you.

I really felt the connective power of the internet when I moved to America a month ago. I logged on and my writing group was still there, albeit five hours ahead of me. So much of the writing community is virtual, whether it is online critiquing groups or writers blogs, that much of the feeling of being alone in the universe is now removed; we have rich resources of advice and constructive criticism at our fingertips.

Submitting work is now increasingly reliant on the internet.
E-submissions of novels are lagging behind (oh, the cost and waste of resources involved in the submission process is just painful!) but new, smaller publishing companies are slowly turning towards the paperless approach.

Thanks to websites such as Duotrope the submission process for short stories/poetry goes something like this:
1) Write tiny, polished gem
2) Search Duotrope for appropriate publications
3) Go to publication website to learn more, read previous editions, find out submission information
4) Submit tiny, polished gem by email
5) Wait an inordinate amount of time for response
6) If paid for tiny, polished gem money flies through the virtual ether into Paypal/bank account.
7) No postage waste or trees cut down; orangutans and polar bears are happy.

The market for fiction has also expanded (despite the depletion of print short story magazines) because of the countless new online fiction publications that can be read from anywhere in the world and the increased access to foreign markets.

I can do all this from anywhere in the world, from a beach in the Bahamas to a bungalow in Reading. If I live in Siberia I can still write and quite possibly order all my books off Amazon, although I don't know how long they'd take to arrive. I can still procrastinate terribly on ICanHasCheeseburger from a houseboat in Vietnam.

The internet is truly magic.

Signs of Strangeness

2009-08-23T08:33:00.005+01:00

I have three South African Signs of Strangeness up at my other blog today.

P.S. Do you like the new look? This is what I do at 3am when I can't sleep.

Plurality

2009-08-22T14:05:00.006+01:00

A Saturday morning question for you, dear readers.

What is the plural of synopsis?
Or, what is the collective noun for synopsis?

Post your answers here, they don't have to be sensible.

The best will win a virtual trophy.

Novel Rejection

2009-08-17T20:52:00.013+01:00

You may remember from a few posts ago that I was waiting to hear back from two independent publishers who had requested the full manuscript of my novel.
Months and months later I have finally heard back from one of them (we'll call them Turtle Publishers to protect the innocent).

Unfortunately we don't feel that we can publish the book. Your opening chapter was great and your writing style was fine. However, we felt disappointed with the story... The ideas that you talk about having in the book are great - mental health, issues over the pursuit of money, dystopian society., however, we felt that they didn't come over as well as they might have done.

Ouch.

So what's worse? When you are rejected before they have even read the novel, or when they've carefully read every page? I am beginning to think the latter.

I am also starting to think that dear old Maynard Hill may very well need re-drafting if I am to continue subbing it. I don't think it is hopeless, but I'm obviously not hitting the spot.

But, painful as it is to share rejection letters with you, chin up and keep going.

My plan?
1) The short stories and poetry seem to be doing well (I have another three acceptances in the pipeline, stay tuned for links) so I think it would be sensible to build up my portfolio with these. And I enjoy doing them so much.

2) There's no point in doing anything to Maynard Hill until I have heard back from the other interested publishers.

3) I have an idea for a new book, which I will begin researching.

4) By the time the New Book is written (how long is a piece of string?) I should have a decent publishing record that will surely dazzle agents and publishers alike (I do hear that these two groups are particularly easy to impress, as I'm sure all budding novelists will testify).

5a) A top agent will be amazed by my versitility, adore my book and get me a publishing deal worth megabucks. I will move to my own island where I will finish the Maynard Hill trilogy in between feeding the monkeys from my own mango tree.

5b) Alternatively, a tiny independent publishing house will finally take me on and my collection of short stories will win a well-respected prize worth £50. My novel will sell over ten copies and have an excellently-designed cover that will look very nice on my bookcase.

Time to boil the kettle for a cup of tea and get that nose back to the grindstone.

English Slang

2009-08-15T17:12:00.004+01:00

I always thought I was a resonably well-brought-up young lady.

Last night, however, I eating some rather delicious Mexican food in the company of my new American friends and it occured to me quite how much slang I use in my everyday speech.
"Knackered", "B*llocks!", "pop" (as in "pop to the shops"), "brilliant", "gorgeous", etc, etc.
And that's without all the Britishisms that are a respectable use of language, "pavement", "post", "shop", "cinema", "film".

There's nothing like a blank stare or an amused expression to make you intensely aware of how you yourself use language.

But I've mentioned before how difficult I find it to write dialogue, so maybe a new self-awareness can only be a useful thing.

By the way, everyone seems to like the use of "cinema", and as I can't bring myself to say "movie theater", that one will be staying.

Friday Ramblings

2009-08-14T15:53:00.010+01:00

Another Friday post and at 11am, what's more, so we'll start off with elevensies, one of my favourite meals of the day. Mmm, delicious. More cake?

So I am newly settled into the Land of Unlimited Coffee Refills, Big Cars and Inspirational Presidents (when did you last wear your Gordon Brown T-shirt?).
Yes, America.

Hell, yeah.

The part of the East Coast I am living on is incredibly beautiful, with a sailing enthusiast's dream of a coastline (and a seafood enthusiast's), forested National Parks and two very different cities, Washington DC and Baltimore, in close enough proximity to fill up on culture.

I had a little explore around Baltimore two days ago and found a second hand bookshop that very quickly emptied my wallet. It was everything a second hand bookshop should be: towering piles of books, quirky little twists and turns (you go through the garden and into the house next door to get to the philosophy section), the right musty smell and arty-clothed men who huffily allow you to pay for your purchases and don't give a crap about you. Wonderful.

I then went for a bowl of Thai seafood noodle soup overlooking the harbour. A brightly T-shirted woman kept going past on a segway. I think she was something to do with the Visitor Centre but she was cruising so speedily there was no way of discovering what she was promoting. Seafood is a big thing in Baltimore: shops filled with happy crabs in chef's hats are everywhere.

So this is my new writing environment. Once I had the computer set up and connected to the PixieWeb it was time for me to start typing. Stay tuned to see the results...

More Bewilderment

2009-07-13T18:56:00.002+01:00

When I was seventeen I wrote a poem called Chess. I found it recently, re-edited it and submitted it to Bewildering Stories, who liked it and published it today!
To find out what a strange little teenager I was, click on the link to the right.

Bewildering Stories Second Quarterly Review 2009

2009-07-10T16:41:00.003+01:00

My recent flash fiction piece, Sharp Focus, was chosen for the Bewildering Stories Second Quarterly Review 2009. See the link to the right for this and all the other choices.
Naturally, I was rather chuffed as this was the first time I had been published in their magazine.

As it's Friday, please help yourself to a donut.

Headspace

2009-06-26T20:17:00.005+01:00

I was having a conversation with someone earlier today about the importance of headspace, i.e. getting the inside of your head upholstered appropriately.
In an office-based business you'd expect nice shiny office chairs, desks at the right height, some potplants, maybe a little kitchen and good lighting. Why would your head be any different if, as a writer, that is your workspace?

I have been frantically busy recently with a couple of life-changing events that are taking up most of my mental and physical capacity. Even though I have had a little spare time, I have not been able to write (including blogging) because the inside of my head is so utterly filled with clutter and paper aeroplanes flying around. If my headspace was an office right now it would be condemned for several hundred breaches of health and safety law and the workers would be streaming out through the front lobby in horror.

Hopefully soon the headspace will be refurbished, the paper aeroplanes filed in the correct drawers, the keyboards dusted off and I'll be able to write again.

Flash Fiction at Bewildering Stories

2009-06-15T11:27:00.003+01:00

I have a story called 'Sharp Focus' in Issue 341 of Bewildering Stories.
Click on the link to the right to view it!

New Words

2009-06-04T14:14:00.010+01:00

Just a little something I came across today.

I was reading an article in the Comments section of The Times Online about the male pill. The article was quite light-hearted, discussing the attitude of dog-walkers to un-castrated dogs, a study in China where only about four fifths of the men remembered to take the pill even though they were (presumably) being paid to take part in the experiment, and the tendancy of both men and women to lie about contraception. All interesting reading over a lunch hour.
Being the online version, comments had been posted at the bottom of the page. One included the phrase 'I loled when I read about your dog'.
The word 'loled' isn't in the dictionary. Or if it is, it won't mean 'perfect tense of the abbreviated form of Laugh Out Loud'.

Yet. The language of technology is forever creeping into our speech. 'Phone has dropped its appostrophe to become both a noun and a verb in its own right. I've already mentioned The Times 'Online'. Even e-mail has lost its hyphen: I email, you email, they all emailed some emails.

Lolcats abound on the website ICanHasCheezeburger (much loved on this blog). Almost everyone under the age of 25 would be amazed if you thought 'lol' at the end of a text stood for Lots Of Love (a joke elaborated on brilliantly by the comedian Matt Kirshen).

Very soon lol, loling, loled, lolable will all make their way to the Oxford English Dictionary. For anyone who is a little uncomfortable at the idea, I like to think of language as a big party to which we are all invited and there's always room for one more. Even the poor castrated dog.

Fingers Crossed

2009-06-03T16:59:00.005+01:00

I recently submitted the standard first three chapters of my novel, Maynard Hill, to two independent publishers along with my shiny new synopsis.
Both have come back to me and asked for the full manuscript.

Fingers crossed.

Doorknobs and BodyPaint

2009-06-02T13:31:00.006+01:00

My new foray into flash fiction (stories of less than 1000 words) is definitely paying off. I've had my third success, this time in the quarterly fiction e-zine, Doorknobs and Bodypaint (see link to the right).
The piece was written in response to a challenge: write a story in less than 450 words about people's life choices using only dialogue. I'm quite scared of dialogue - I think it's one of my weakest areas - so I'm delighted to have been accepted. (AND - modest cough - mine appears under the banner First Prize. I don't think I win much more than honour but that's better than a kick in the shins, I think.)
The premise of the story is 'what if people really grew up to do all those jobs they dreamed about as kids? And what would speed dating be like?'

If you were paying attention a few posts ago you'll remember I wanted to be Hazel from Watership Down when I grew up.

Salt Publishing Needs Your Help!

2009-06-01T14:43:00.002+01:00

Salt publishing are a small, independent press publishing short stories and poetry, among other things. They are truly tiny, but have made a big impact in terms of creating a home for the short story and for poetry in the last few years. Unfortunately last year the Arts Council decided to completely revamp the causes to which they supplied funding, as you may have seen in the press, and Salt were one of the losers.

They're asking you to buy 'just one book' from their website (http://www.saltpublishing.com/), Amazon, or anywhere else (providing it's first hand, not second hand!). They need to sell about another 3000 books, which is not a huge number in the scale of things.

Do culture a favour, get yourself a good book to read, and support the cause. Then get all your friends to do it too ;)

Kindle: the new e-book reader

2009-05-12T11:02:00.007+01:00

What is this?
To kindle... to light a fire, to grow flames from very little. Kindling... the small, easily-lit bits of wood or paper used to light a fire. To animate, to inflame.

So, calling a new electronic book reader a 'Kindle' implies... what? That a new love of reading will be kindled by this device? The name certainly hints at something new.

And that 'something new' is where I am divided on this matter.

Reading is nothing new. I myself have been doing it for a good number of years and I am given to understand that others before me have discovered meaning in all those funny squiggles.
I am a book lover. I love books. The very sight of books excites me and I become positively giddy inside a library. It isn't just the words; it is the feel of the paper, the binding, the smell, the weight.

More than that, to own a book is to possess it. There are many, many people like me who cannot bear to part with a book, even if they know they are never going to read it again. To give it away would be like losing a friend. A book is a world more than the words which physically inhabit it.

So how, then, is this electronic device going to kindle something that a book cannot? How can it replace the joy felt when a new book is opened for the first time? How can something so cold and sterile take the place of something so beautifully tactile as a book?

Ah, so back to that 'something new.'

A Kindle cannot replace a book for the simple fact that a Kindle is an electronic device and a book is a book. Printing still has not replaced manuscript illumination. The production of hand made and bound books is enjoying something of a renaissance. The British Parliament still record their laws on vellum as it is far more durable than paper.

So instead, what new experiences can the Kindle offer?

Imagine you were travelling for a year (lucky thing). You would be able to fit every Lonely Planet ever written and several small libraries in your rucksack. You'd feel like a geek on the beach but you'd still have a straight spine at the end of it all.

Imagine you're going to a conference. Before you board the plane you have downloaded all the relevant papers plus background chapters of books. It doesn't matter that you don't have the actual hard copies: you don't want your house filled with books about the hydraulic analysis of unsteady flow in pipe networks anyway.

Imagine you're a computer nerd. Books about C++ and suchlike are out of date by the time they even get to the printers. You can download e-books the moment they become available and delete them when they're obsolete. Without chopping down a single tree.

I would even like to remain optimistic about the future of a publishing industry that has such a low-cost method to reach new readers.

I'm not rushing out to buy a Kindle but neither am I sneaking out at the dead of night, burning pitchfork in hand, to destroy them. Let's see what, exactly, is kindled by this e-book revolution.

Any thoughts?

Stephen Fry reviews The Da Vinci Code

2009-05-10T23:13:00.006+01:00

"It is complete loose stool-water. It is arse gravy of the worst kind."

Spoken on QI. Genius.

I imagine Da Vinci himself would have agreed with this assessment.