K.J. Chapman's Blog, page 89

Our Child and Thanatophobia

I wanted to write this post as it’s been the centre of our lives for a few months, and we are now seeing light at the end of the tunnel. Our five year old daughter has been suffering with thanatophobia- a fear of death and/ or dying. ‘But she’s five,’ I hear you cry, and believe me, we thought it too… at first.

As most mothers would, I hit google. I spent many hours researching every aspect of this phobia in children, and other parents advice, tips, and experiences. Knowing that it is more common than we first thought, and that other people have come out the other side has really helped, hence why I felt the need to write this post on our experience.

How it started:

One night, I was putting Sophie to bed and she suddenly broke down in tears (hysterical crying). When I finally calmed her down enough to understand her, she said, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want you and Daddy to die and leave me all alone.” Millions of questions sprung to mind. How do I answer that without lying? Where has she heard about death? Why does she look so petrified? What should and shouldn’t I say to comfort her? And most importantly, how can I make it better? After an hour she was sleeping and all was well again.

One week later:

It happened again, but her questions were more intense. Why are we born if we die? Do we live for a long time? Will you and Daddy die before me? Nothing I said would appease her and her anxiety grew and grew. I finally got her to sleep again, but the questions and tears started again as soon as she woke up in the morning.

We noticed a connection with her anxieties and starting primary school in September, but it took a sudden turn when I was leaving her at school crying for me, and she’d cry in the mornings expressing concerns that I might die in the day and not come to pick her up.

I spoke to her teacher and she made me feel a bit better. She told me that thanatophobia is common in children between the ages of 4 and 8. Especially in intelligent, sensitive children like Sophie. She has an understanding that death is final and happens to us all eventually, but due to her age, she doesn’t have the mental capacity to process the information emotionally. She told us to tell Sophie that we are all young and healthy and she has nothing to worry about, and then to change the subject. Letting her dwell on information isn’t helpful. She also suggested that it was a control issue which now, looking back, is blatantly obvious. Sophie didn’t like the not knowing of where we were or what we were up to.

We acted on the advice and it worked for a time, but Sophie’s anxieties branched out to worrying if disabled people would die, or if she even thought about us dying that it might come true. We were treading on egg shells with anything from cancer research adverts on the TV, to people absentmindedly mentioning, what we dubbed the ‘D’ word. Friends and family grew accustomed to minding what they said around her. By this time we were worried about her mental health. Is our child ‘normal’? Don’t get me wrong, in between her bouts of anxiety, Sophie was your average, happy, playful child, and although the episodes were more frequent, they were by no means all the time.

Parents Evening:

Parents evening was a day after a particularly difficult day of comforting Sophie, tears, tantrums, and us falling into bed feeling emotionally drained. The first thing Sophie’s teacher asked was if we had any concerns. Uh, yes… I explained the situation in detail.

“I’m glad you said that because we too are concerned with Sophie’s anxieties. It is now affecting her at school.”

My heart is pounding in my ears. Oh my god, is there something really wrong with my child? What have they experienced with her at school?

She told us that Sophie needed constant reassurance from an adult, and if taken out of her comfort zone in regards to different educational activities she’d become very clingy and would constantly express worries about ‘mummy and daddy’. Again, the control issues were the stem of her anxiety.

We agreed to try different techniques with Sophie; getting her to take a deep breath when she felt anxious or scared, and for her to tell herself out loud that she doesn’t need to worry. She had to deal with her anxieties herself, just like we do as adults. When it came to questions of death, we continued with the brief explanation that we are young and healthy, and then would change the subject. But it was agreed that after the school half term holidays, if there was no improvement, she’d get a school nurse referral to get professional tips on how to deal with her anxiety.

My head was swimming, but I felt better knowing that the school believed it to be a phase, and that no other underlying factor was present. Other than those anxieties, she had friends and was a happy, academically bright child. ‘She will work through this’, the teacher said.

Conversations:

Over the week, I had spoken to Sophie’s old nursery teacher who told me that she experienced the same anxiety at Sophie’s age, and that made me feel much better. Speaking with different people was enlightening. Some had experienced it themselves, or their child had a similar phase. Being told that what we were doing was the correct way to handle it was reassuring too.

Religion:

Sophie goes to a Church of England school, so is taught about Christianity, sings hymns, says prayers etc. She was singing ‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’ at home and I explained what the hymn meant. She was fascinated. We tell her that her great Grandad and great great Nana are in heaven watching her, and have done since they died when she was 2 years old.

One day, she came home and asked about God and Heaven. She said she didn’t know what Heaven was and that it scared her because it was connected to dying. I explained it to her and this had the best effect on her emotionally. Finally, we had found something to make her feel a little better. The idea that spirits go to heaven and we all get to see each other again was a massive comfort to her. I would say I am a spiritual person, not conformed to organised religion, but I’m happy to comfort her and let her make up her own mind when she’s old enough to.

Half Term:

I was expecting a difficult week, but we were pleasantly surprised. We created a sticker reward chart. If Sophie had what we called ‘silly’ thoughts, (we are aware that her thoughts were valid, but ‘silly’ was a term she understood), but dealt with them using her deep breath techniques, then she’d get a sticker. This worked brilliantly. We’d sometimes see her taking a deep breath, and then getting on with what she was doing. She was learning to deal with her anxieties without our reassurance.  Of course, we had the occasional question, but minus the hysterics.

Back to School:

The Sunday before school resumed, my nerves were a little all over the place with worry and anxiety of my own. We had such an improved week on the previous that I was worried Sophie would regress a bit, knowing that she had to be in school without us. I took her in as usual, reminded her of her breathing exercises, kissed her goodbye… and … she ran off to play without so much as a quivering lip.

The teacher and I gave each other an ‘okay, that just happened’ look, and I ran out before Sophie had a chance to miss me. This happened for a few more days, and although we were ecstatic, we couldn’t help but worry about when her anxiety might get the better of her.

End of the Week:

Sophie was asking less about death, and when she did she was rational and attentive. She was going to school without tears, happy for me to leave, and coming out exuberant. I asked the teacher if they too had noticed a difference… and… yes, “Sophie has really turned a corner, she is nowhere near as clingy, she is getting on with other activities outside of her comfort zone, not expressing concerns about mummy and daddy, and progress is being made.” *Massive exhale with relief*

Of course, she may still have anxieties and express them to us, but she is dealing with them and they’re not over coming her. If this post reassures just one other parent that there is an end to this emotional, exhausting, worrying phase, then I’m happy to have helped.

All images are the property of K.J.Chapman

 

My Muse-ic of the Moment

Every so often, a piece of chart music catches my attention, whether it be for personal reasons, inspiration, or relevance to my WIP. Jess Glynne’s new chart song, fits perfectly with what I’m currently writing on EVO Shift…

Take Me Home- Jess Glynne

 Wrapped up, so consumed by

All this hurt

If you ask me, don’t

Know where to start
Anger, love, confusion

Roads that go nowhere

I know that somewhere better

Cause you always take me there

 

Came to you with a broken faith

Gave me more than a hand to hold

Caught before I hit the ground

Tell me I’m safe, you’ve got me now

Would you take the wheel

If I lose control?

If I’m lying here

Will you take me home?

Could you take care

Of a broken soul?

Will you hold me now?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Hold the gun to my head

Count 1, 2, 3

If it helps me walk away then it’s

What I need

Every minute gets easier

The more you talk to me

You rationalize my darkest thoughts

Yeah you, set them free

Came to you with a broken faith

Gave me more than a hand to hold

Caught before I hit the ground

Tell me I’m safe, you’ve got me now

Would you take the wheel

If I lose control?

If I’m lying here

Will you take me home?

Could you take care

Of a broken soul?

Oh, will you hold me now?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

Oh, will you take me home?

You say space will make it better

And time will make it heal

I won’t be lost forever

And soon I wouldn’t feel

Like I’m haunted, oh falling

You say space will make it better

And time will make it heal

I won’t be lost forever

And soon I wouldn’t feel

Like I’m haunted, oh falling

Watch the video: here

Prompt Me #2

This week’s prompt comes from Sarina over at Cookie Break. If you haven’t popped over to Cookie Break, please do. You won’t regret clicking that little follow button either. Sarina shares her writing experiences, musings, book reviews, and much, much more.

The Prompt:

The secret that, if revealed, would upset everything.

“It’s not like I asked him for much. I wanted to be loved, and I guess that’s harder for some, but we’ve all got the capacity, or so I thought. It’s a shell shocker when everything you think you know comes crashing about your ears. I feel like I’m still stepping over the pieces. I can hear the crunching beneath me, and every step is taking me away from the person I thought I was.”

She looks over her glasses at me; a cliche therapist move if ever I saw one. “Perhaps the person you thought you was has merely grown, moved on, learnt from experience. What do you think about the person you are today, in comparison to then?”

I lay my sweating hands against the cool plastic of the chair, and sit a little straighter. “I’m wiser.”

“Good.”

“You see, I don’t know if it is good. I’m judgmental, wary, isolated. I doubt I’ll ever be able to trust again. He broke my heart and opened my eyes at the same time and I don’t know which is worse?”

She closes her file and pushes her glasses onto the top of her greying mane. “Can I offer you a little advice, Libby? This is strictly off the record as what I’m about to say isn’t professional or kind.” I tilt my head in curiosity. “Sometimes people break our hearts- end of story. We are left with trust issues, commitment issues, but we get on with it because life goes on. We don’t go around stalking people, breaking into their houses, frightening their spouses half to death in the middle of the night. If you break your restraining order again, you’ll be looking at jail time. You need to let go, rid yourself from the burden of hurt that sits on your shoulders. Carl and Chantelle are happy, leave them be.”

Nothing I did compares to the hurt he caused me, and I was only trying to make him see that he still loved me,” I sob. “There’s a lot unsaid between us. I just need a chance to tell him by myself, but I can’t get near him.’ She makes it sound like I’m psychotic, like I did those things to harm Carl. I simply followed him to work to give him his birthday card. I didn’t break in to his house, our house. I used the key he always leaves in the shed to quickly get my mail, and as for scaring Chantelle, well, who cares? She deserves to rot in hell for what she did to my relationship. I can tell that this shrink is just like the others, pompous, unsympathetic, and has a superiority complex.

“I think we should pick this up again on Friday, Libby. I want you to think about the positive changes you have seen in yourself in the last three months. Write them down in your journal and we’ll discuss them together.”

I smile at her just as she expects me to, and shake her hand with a firm grip. “I will do. Thank you for today, and thank you for being honest with me, it really has helped,” I say.

She places a hand on my shoulder, and offers me a patronising smile.  I’m not even lying, it really has helped. I’m going to rid myself of that burden of hurt. I’m going to drive a knife right into Chantelle’s heart, and I’m going to make Carl watch it all. I just have to decide whether to show her my scan picture first or would that just be cruel? I kind of want to see her face when she knows our secret. There’s no rush, I can decide on the way home. I’m quite hungry actually, I might stop by McDonalds first.

Sarina has offered me five prompts in total, so keep your eyes peeled for those future ‘Prompt Me’ posts.

If you would like to offer prompts for future posts, please check out the original post and leave a comment: Prompt Me

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman.

Please request permission from the prompt creator for use of the prompt in this post.

I’ll Write What I Like

I was in a group discussion today about writing novels, editing etc, when someone asked if I’d solely write in first person present tense. The answer is no, I prefer to, but that doesn’t mean I shall always. It was a fair question in a reasonable, I like to think educated, discussion. Then, another party joined the group. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when a discussion snowballs and everyone wants in, but this person wasn’t contributing anything other than forcing their opinions on me.

“Did you know that first person present tense is rated as the least favoured writing tense by readers? they said.

No, I did not. (I will research the truth in that a little later for my own interest.) Joining in a discussion that you weren’t originally a part of with a negative is always disgruntling to me.

“I can’t stand reading anything in first person present tense. If I see that a book is written in first person present tense,  I won’t even read the second sentence. It feels lazy to me.”

Okay, how does this help our discussion. Why does it feel lazy? What is it that irks you so much about it? Valid arguments require valid reasoning. You’re allowed an opinion, but I’m allowed a reason, right?

My reply, “I enjoy being in the MC’s head, and I definitely wouldn’t call it lazy writing. There are pros and cons to writing in any tense or POV. First person present tense is restrictive to time manipulation, and progressing the story whilst keeping it interesting is quite a feat.

“I just can’t help but think that it’s self-absorbed. It’s like the author is the MC and merely acting out their own fantasies.”

Okay, don’t all writers do that to an extent? There is a little piece of me in every character I create- villain, protagonist, dog.

My reply, “I disagree. I love reading narratives in first person present tense, and I think that’s why I naturally write that way too. Each writer has their own style, and each reader has their own taste. To devalue one is pointless because for every person that says they hate a book, there is another who loves it.

“Yes, but like I said, you write in the least favoured writing tense and POV,” they add.

“And?”

“And if you switch to, let’s say, third person past tense, you’d access a bigger target audience.”

“Perhaps, but why would I do that?”

“To make more money.”

Bingo. Now, that is why I’m a writer, and you are not, good sir. I write for the love not the money. I love what I write, and although you may not, there are others who do. (That being said, this guy hasn’t even read my book.)

My reply, “When did we start talking about money?”

BOOM!

All Gifs have been sourced from GIPHY.

Write Me: Ten Word Story

There has been a little change to Monday’s scheduled posts. For the time being, I will take a hiatus from the quotes posts to give myself time to schedule some more writing exercises that have been waiting patiently in the drafts folder.

I’ve always been a sucker for a challenge, and when said challenge happens to be a writing exercise, I’m chomping at the bit. For the next ten weeks, I shall be writing stories with word limits, starting at ten words and working up in multiples of ten each week until one hundred.

My ten word story:

I can survive anything in a good pair of converse.

Feel free to join in with your own ten word stories and let me know what you come up with.

All written works are the property of K.J.Chapman

Word Count Weekly #14

Last week was a little strange, and this week has been a little hectic. My daughter turned five on Thursday… How do I have a five year old little human? The week was consumed with present buying, party organising, and endless questions of, ‘how many sleeps is it until my birthday?’

We planned a party with her close friends after school, and that I would sort the last minute details whilst Sophie was at school… no such luck. Sophie woke in the night with a temperature and a hideous cough. In the morning she had totally lost her voice, and I had to call her in absent at school. She still had her party, but was off school on Friday too. I could have done with Friday to myself to recover. Two days down with zero words written.

On Saturday morning, we heard the horrid news about the terrorism attacks in Paris. I couldn’t concentrate on my WIP with keeping an eye on the news and the aftermath. I chose not to post anything other than condolences and messages of love on Twitter and Facebook on Saturday. Anything else would have felt inappropriate to me.

This week’s word count reflects my lack of writing time and concentration. My most productive writing days were Monday and Sunday morning.

3256 Words

Excerpt from this week’s work in progress:

Scrambling to my feet, I run up behind Boss, pull the small blade from his thigh, and stab it into his neck. Cooper rolls out from beneath him as he falls onto his stomach with blood pumping from his neck like a fountain. The knowing in his eyes is chilling. He knows he is dying and that I am the one who killed him. It feels like time has slowed, but it only takes a split second for the life to leave him.

I’d like to express my sorrow, horror, devastation, and sympathy for France at this horrific time, and I’d like to offer my love. Remember that love is something that terrorism can never affect. Unite and offer love because that’s the solid rock of

humanity, not fear and hate.

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman

I do not own the rights to the images featured in this post.

Review: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck 5/5

Blurb: Streetwise George and his big, childlike friend Lennie are drifters, searching for work in the fields and valleys of California. They have nothing except the clothes on their back, and a hope that one day they’ll find a place of their own and live the American dream. But dreams come at a price. Gentle giant Lennie doesn’t know his own strength, and when they find work at a ranch he gets into trouble with the boss’s daughter-in-law. Trouble so bad that even his protector George may not be able to save him …

I can’t believe I got to my twenty ninth year without reading Of Mice and Men! Of course, I had heard of it, but something kept me from reading it until one fateful day in the library. I was perusing the classics section and thought, ‘why not?’ After reading the novella, that thought quickly changed to, ‘why the hell didn’t I read this sooner?’ Needless to say, I loved it.

The vivid descriptions, brilliantly developed characters, strong relationship arcs, and realistic dialogue entranced me from the start. Steinbeck’s prose brought the story to life, and left me in awe. He creates simple complexity… is that even a thing? Well, it’s the only way I can describe it.

Set in the American depression during the 1930’s, the narrative follows George and his friend Lennie who travel town to town in look of manual work. They live a hand to mouth lifestyle in hopes of earning enough money to buy their own piece of land. Lennie is a giant of a man with the mind of a child and is dependant on George to look after him. George has always done just that, even though Lennie, despite all his good intentions, ends up in trouble wherever they go.

The swift ending is highly emotional, shocking, and well delivered. I was incredibly moved and had the story/ ending on my mind for a few days afterward. Steinbeck is now up there on my inspirational authors list!

The opinions expressed here are those of K.J.Chapman and no other parties.

All books reviewed on this blog have been read by K.J.Chapman

K.J.Chapman has not been paid for this review.

Review: Black Spring by Alison Croggan

Black Spring by Alison Croggan 3/5

Blurb: Black Spring takes the passionate story of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and re-imagines it in a fantasy nineteenth-century society set in savage lands sustained by wizardry, where its people live by the vengeance code of vendetta. Like Wuthering Heights, it’s a story within a story, featuring the brooding young Damek, who is swept along by his emotions. The object of his affections is Lina, daughter of the village lord, whose magical powers make her a witch and witches are not tolerated in this brutally patriarchal society. When Lina is sent away and forced to become a servant, Damek promises revenge and, like Heathcliff, spends a lifetime securing and refining it.

The author doesn’t shy away from the fact that Black Spring is a retelling of Wuthering Heights. I went in with my eyes open, and optimistic as I enjoyed Wuthering Heights and don’t dislike a retelling if done well. That being said, I was a little shocked at how similar to Wuthering Heights it actually is. I felt a little short changed. If I wanted to read Wuthering Heights I would have taken my old copy off the shelf. Black Spring is Wuthering Heights with a hint of witchcraft and wizardry.

I liked that the narrative is told from more than one point of view; Anna’s, Hammel’s, and Lina’s, and the characters remained true to form throughout. Anna (Nelly character) was always level headed, mild mannered, and mature. Lina (Cathy character) was always spoilt, self-absorbed, and childish, and Damek (Heathcliff character) was always brooding, dark, and hidden. Hammel, however, was an unnecessary character in my opinion.

Croggan’s writing style perfectly captures the Gothic element to the book and her prose is easy to read. Her world building, layering lore and blood vendettas into a bleak, cold society is spot on, and I can’t fault her portrayal of the dark, haunted romance between Lina and Damek. I would have just preferred elements of Wuthering Heights with a changed story frame, but that is personal preference to each reader.

My 3/5 is a reflection on the strict similarities between Black Spring and Wuthering Heights, not on Croggan’s impressive writing style. Like I said, this author openly states that it is a retelling of Wuthering Heights, it just depends on how similar you like your retelling to be.

The opinions expressed here are those of K.J.Chapman and no other parties.

All books reviewed on this blog have been read by K.J.Chapman

K.J.Chapman has not been paid for this review.

I Can, In Theory, Kick Your Ass…

I was giggling with my friend yesterday about how I sent her a message to declare that I could, in theory, kick her ass. Yep, if you are friends with me, I feel for you. No, I wasn’t threatening her, merely stating a point after my intense research session of boxing tips, tricks, and low blows.

I needed the research for a chapter in which my MC is being handed her ass by her cage fighting friend who wants to toughen her up. I’m no expert… or should I say, I wasn’t an expert , so I hit Google big style. I can now, theoretically, throw a mean cross jab, block, and basically kick ass.

Ummm, yeah, calm down Kayleigh…

The conversation got me thinking about other things that I can theoretically do since researching information for the EVO Nation Series. I compiled a list for my own amusement:

Boxing
Waterboarding… and too many torture methods to list
Electrocution
Thumb dislocation and relocation
The Dougie… as you do
Bullet Wound Emergency Treatment
Understand the words ‘clear’ and ‘hurry’ in Italian
Blood transfusions in extreme circumstances

My search history is a marvel and a horror to behold. I’m sure there will be many more theoretical talents to add to my list in due course. It’s all part of the fun of writing, right?

Please, feel free to share your new theoretical talents. Don’t make me come down there and kick your ass!

Prompt Me #1

This is week one of my ‘Prompt Me’ posts and I’m raring to go. I’m particularly excited about these writing exercises because the prompts have been created by fellow bloggers and I have just ten minutes to expand on them.

My first prompt was created by Faith Rivens over at Aliasfaithrivens. Head on over and check out her blog for her writing musings and journey so far. Faith is currently partaking in NaNoWrimo and posting about her experience. If you’re a NaNo participant give her a follow.

The Prompt:

‘The whole idea was absurd. Thank goodness. She would never waste her time on anything less.’

She rings the bell and waits. No lights come on and there is no sign of movement. She rings again. This time, the upstairs window opens and Matty hangs out, topless, and with hair like a birds nest. Pretty damn cute.

“Jenna, what the hell? It’s 2am.”

“I’ve just finished work and I wanted to tell you something. Can you come down?”

“Can it not wait until normal o clock? Jesus, Jenn, you always pull shit like this. You know I’ve got to be down at the docks for four.”

He’s right. She’s always been irrational and impulsive, and even though she knows that is partly why he likes her, she can’t blame him for palming her off.

“Are you coming down or not?”

“And what if I say no?”

“Then, I suppose I’ll have to say it anyways. I love you, okay? There, I said it,” she says, the unfamiliar heat of embarrassment gracing her cheeks. Turning on her heels, she hurries down the path and jogs up the street, cutting through the park before Matty can get dressed and follow her.

She had never dropped the ‘L’ bomb in her whole life, and an unwelcome doubt seeps into her chest. It may have been wiser to have waited for him to say it first, but when did Jenna Guymon do anything wise? Matty was probably trying to think of a gentle way to let her down, and if he starts with some ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shit, she might just punch him one. A quick thank you, but no thank you would suit her better; just like removing a plaster- brutal, but quick.

She’s at the end of her street without realising she has walked the whole twenty minutes. Why does it feel like the walk of shame? Greasy Gregs is open seeing as it’s a Friday, so she gets a bacon bap, not that she can actually stomach it. One of the many reasons she picked her flat was the prospect of Greasy Greg’s bacon baps on tap.

She takes a bite and almost chokes on it when she sees Matty leaning against his car outside the flat. Suddenly, her dwindling appetite is non- existent. When he sees her he straightens up, brushing a hand through his hair.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Is there not a rewind button for tonight?”

“You don’t get to take it back,” he says, and then he’s kissing her. It’s different to anything she imagined; it is more than just a kiss. “Say it again.”

She eyes him warily, but it’s now or never. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ve loved you since we were eight years old,” he says, against her lips.

I hope you enjoyed that ten minute writing exercise. Faith also offered up a dialogue prompt for me to use in a few weeks time, so keep your eyes peeled.

If you would like to offer prompts for future posts, please check out the original post and leave a comment: Prompt Me

All excerpts are the works of K.J.Chapman.

Please request permission from the prompt creator for use of the prompt in this post.