Keris Stainton's Blog, page 45

Walking in the air

I’m going through one of those phases where I have lots of ideas for blog posts, but whenever I sit down to write one, I go completely blank. Annoying. So here’s something awesome instead:

Walking in the Air always makes me think of this. I still say “I’ve got no bones in my legs.”

{via Hilary Freeman}

How cute is this pop-up proposal?

So this is just utterly gorgeous. An artist named Jackie Huang was commissioned to create a pop-up proposal book, featuring scenes from the couple’s relationship. The Central Park one below is my favourite, but click on the pic for more. Adorable.

{via Happiness Is}

52 Books: Graffiti Moon by Cath Crowley

No idea how I forgot this one last week since it was my favourite book read on hols and one of the best books I’ve read so far this year.

Set over the course of one night, it’s about Lucy who is fascinated by a graffiti artist named Shadow. Lucy is an apprentice glass-blower and the detail about graffiti art and glass-blowing make this book extra special. But that aside, it’s funny, sweet, sad, romantic and totally gripping.

I didn’t want it to end.

Another book I didn’t want to end was Catching Fire, the second book in the Hunger Games trilogy (as if you didn’t know). I read the first book aaaages ago and have put off reading the next two for fear of disappointment, but I absolutely loved Catching Fire. I was planning to go straight on to Mockingjay, but I think I need a bit of a break. Those books exhaust me (in a good way).

What’s the most gripping book you’ve read lately? 

Emma Hearts LA final cover (and sneak peek)

I think – I’m not certain, but I think – it’s actually gone to print now. Eep! (Of course, now I’m fretting about all the people I’m bound to have missed out of the acknowledgements…)

In case you missed it, you can read the first chapter here.

Homeschooling Harry (a bit)

For a while now, Harry’s been asking to do lots of “schoolwork” at home. Not homework so much (although he’s been fine with doing that), but more things like “Can we learn more about the Vikings?” “Can we learn more about Mary Seacole?” So we’ve visited museums and looked stuff up online and got books out of the library, but there was never really enough time.

I’d been idly thinking about homeschooling for a while – I love the idea of being more flexible, of Harry being able to follow his interests rather than what the (overstuffed) curriculum thinks he should be interested in… My oldest friend, Angela, homeschools her two and they all love it (and the children are brilliant), plus I’ve never forgotten a homeschooling family I met years ago when I worked at Waterstones. They’d come in to buy books about Japan because the kids had seen a film that had piqued their interest in it and they were following it up (I think that was the first time I realised that if you homeschooled you could do what you want, you didn’t have to follow the curriculum).

But, of course, I couldn’t homeschool full time. I’ve got Joe. I’ve got books to write. I’ve got Twitter. Plus Harry absolutely loves school and loves his friends.

Thinking about this one day, I wondered if it was possibly to homeschool part time. Of course I asked Twitter and had my answer within minutes: Flexischool. I read about it and decided it sounded ideal. I talked to David and he liked the idea. I talked to Harry and he loved the idea. I mentioned it to Harry’s teacher expecting her to roll her eyes, but she was immediately enthusiastic. She said she thought it was a brilliant idea, would do Harry the world of good and added “He’s such a little love, I’m not surprised you want him at home more” which made me well up. The next step was getting it past the Head and the LEA and they were also, I was quite surprised to find, supportive.

So today was the first day. Plans were all in place. David was on a late, so we were going to drop Joe at preschool, drop David at work and then me and Harry would go and get to work in a cafe. (I figured for the first day, we’d be better off out of the house.) We drove to preschool only to find it had been broken into last night and so was shut. Best laid plans, eh? We’ve still managed to get stuff done, but it hasn’t been quite as organised as I’d hoped. Roll on next week…

I’m going to try to blog about it here since a few people have already mentioned they’d be interested to know how I get on and it also means I’ll have a record of what we’ve done in case the school or the LEA is ever interested. And Harry’s also going to be keeping his own blog: Stainto School (he’s going to update it tomorrow, he says).

Sneak peek at Emma Hearts LA

I sent the final PDF of Emma back to my editor yesterday, which means there’s no going back now! It also means that I can put the first chapter up on here – hurrah! Hope you like it…

Chapter One

‘Most girls of your age would jump at the chance to move to California,’ my mum says. She had been standing in front of the fireplace to make the big announcement, but, thanks to my reaction to it, she’s now sitting on the sagging sofa next to me.

I stare at her. ‘You are joking, right?’

‘No. No, I’m not joking,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry, Emma, but this is a great opportunity for me. And it’s a great opportunity for us as a family.’

I glance at my sister, who’s sunk deep in a beanbag in the corner of the room. She’s fiddling with her phone, a half-smile on her face.

‘Bex!’ I say. ‘You can’t be pleased about this! Tell me you’re not pleased about this!’

She glances up at me from under her floppy fringe. ‘I think it’ll be cool to live in Hollywood.’

‘Well, it won’t actually be Hollywood,’ Mum says.

‘Near enough,’ Bex says, grinning. She’s a drama dork, my sister. I bet she thinks she’ll be talent- spotted at the airport and have her own Disney XD show by the end of the year.

‘It’s a new start,’ Mum says.

‘It’s a new start for you,’ I tell Mum. ‘What about me? I don’t need a new start. I’m happy here.’

Mum rubs her eyes and then says, ‘Oh, damn!’ when she realises she’s wearing make-up for once and she’s just smeared mascara over her face.

‘I know,’ she says, licking her finger and wiping under her eye. ‘I know it’s going to be hard for you to leave Bramhall and all your friends, but if you don’t come with me, you’ll have to live with your dad, so—’

‘I’m not doing that,’ I interrupt. And then I roll my eyes. ‘I’m not saying I’m not coming. I know I have to come. I’m just not happy about it.’

‘And you’ve made that perfectly clear,’ Mum says.

‘What does Dad think about it anyway?’ I ask. ‘Did he suggest we go live with him instead?’

‘Not exactly, no,’ Mum says, which I know means ‘not at all’.

Bex’s head snaps up from her phone – she’s obviously been texting all her friends: omg! movin 2 la!

‘What did he say?’ she asks Mum.

‘He’s all for it,’ Mum says, and rubs her eyes again. ‘I mean, obviously he’s not thrilled that you’re going to be so far away, but he sees what a great opportunity it is and he thinks a new start will be good for all of us.’

‘He’ll be able to come and visit, won’t he?’ Bex says. Her cheeks have gone red, probably because she was so busy texting in her excitement, she forgot all about Dad.

‘Of course,’ Mum says. ‘And we’ll come home when we can too.’

‘And he’ll be able to get on with his new life without having to worry about us,’ I say.

‘Does he still have to pay maintenance if we move thousands of miles away?’

‘That’s between me and your father,’ Mum says, rubbing the back of her neck and rolling her shoulders back.

She looks so tired that I feel bad for acting like such a brat.

‘Is it a really good job?’ I ask her.

Her face lights up and she looks years younger. ‘It’s an incredibly opportunity. I wouldn’t even consider doing this if it wasn’t – you know that. I’m going to be working on the properties and evolution of young high-mass stars and—’

‘Where will we live?’ I interrupt. I know from past experience if Mum starts talking about her research we’ll be here all day. ‘Somewhere better than this?’

Mum pulls a face. ‘I would hope so. Don’t worry, we’ll find somewhere really nice, I promise.’

I close my eyes and try to picture myself in LA. Lying on the beach. Rollerblading in Malibu. Shopping on Rodeo Drive. For some reason my subconscious has given me enormous fake boobs.

I open my eyes and look around this room, with its peeling wallpaper, threadbare carpet and view of the redbrick wall of the factory opposite.

‘If we really, really hate it…’ I start.

‘We can come home, of course,’ Mum says. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll give it a try.’ Mum drops her arm around my shoulders and gives me a quick squeeze. ‘Thank you.’ The house phone rings and she rushes to the kitchen to answer it. I scuff a torn bit of carpet with my shoe and think about telling my friends that I’m moving to LA. I’m not sure they’ll really care. My friends are great, but my best friend Jessie moved to New York last year and I certainly haven’t replaced her. It’ll be funny, us both being over there. But I think LA is actually further from New York than we are now. Still, we’ll be in the same continent, at least.

‘Do you really think Dad wants to get rid of us?’ Bex asks.

She’s still got the two little red smudges on her cheeks that she always gets when she’s angry or upset.

‘Not really,’ I say. ‘Or not permanently, anyway.’

‘Why don’t you want to go, Em?’ she says, as her phone beeps and she glances at the screen. ‘It sounds so cool.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be great,’ I say, getting my own phone out of my pocket. ‘I’ve just had enough of change this year.’

‘I know what you mean, but that’s all been bad change. This will be good change.’ She grins at me and goes back to texting.

I head up to my room, tripping over the loose bit of stair carpet as I do almost every single time I pass it. I hear Mum on the phone saying, ‘That sounds incredible. And how much is it?’ and wonder who she’s talking to.

In our old house, my room was my sanctuary. If ever I was upset or worried or angry, I felt better in my room. Mum and Dad let me choose pretty much everything for it and it was so me. It had a bay window with a window seat, built-in bookshelves and a fireplace that I’d filled with candles. I put framed pictures on the walls rather than posters and I had this huge starburst mirror that Dad found at a car-boot sale and knew I’d love. Back when he cared about what made me happy.

My room here is bigger than my old room, but that’s about the only thing in its favour. It’s just plain and square and boring. And painted magnolia. The mirror and the pictures are packed up now, we’re not allowed to hang anything on the walls in this house because it’s rented and, according to the landlord, the brick is too soft. But there’s no point in thinking about it. Things change. I have to get used to that idea. Jessie’s parents split up a couple of years ago and her mum and dad both found themselves boyfriends, so I should know better than to expect everything to stay the same.

I lie down on the bed and text Jessie. It actually worked out really well for her, eventually. Her mum had moved to New York and now they’re all living there – her mum and her boyfriend, her dad and his boyfriend, and Jessie and her boyfriend, Finn. Not all together, obviously. But they’re all really happy. Much happier than when her parents were still married, Jessie says.

I tell Jessie to Skype me when she gets a chance and then I stare up at the enormous water stain on my bedroom ceiling.

It looks a bit like America, if I squint.

Time is running out…

… to nominate me for Queen of Teen.

(Nominations close on Friday and it only takes a minute, honest.)

I know, you thought it was going to be something more exciting, didn’t you? Sorry. It’s exciting to me!

To make up for the disappointment, have a watch of/listen to this. My friend Angie sent me this song years ago and I absolutely love it, but I’d forgotten about it until yesterday (when Laura reminded me, in a roundabout sort of way…)

I know. Not as cheesetastic as my usual selections. How about this one? (Haven’t heard it for years until Chris Evans played it this morning. Maybe Princess is Queen now…)

52 Books: Holiday reading

We went away for a week and I managed to read LOADS. The Care and Feeding of the Girls in the Basement and Celebration Book by Barbara Samuel, both of which were inspiring and comforting.

Me, Earl & the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews, which made me laugh, but also do some painful wincing about how grim it was to be a teenager.

Then, Again by Diane Keaton, which I found disappointing.

Real Live Boyfriends by E Lockhart and Ten Things We Shouldn’t Have Done by Sarah Mlynowski, both of which I absolutely loved.

Remember The Belle Stars

I've been on hols. While I was away, I suddenly remembered this song, which I was a bit obsessed with when I was a tiny child (okay, I was 12). I'm pretty sure me and my sister and her friends (I didn't have any friends) made up a dance routine and possibly even formed a band. A band that would just mime to this one song, obv.

I picked the TotP appearance over the video, cos it has bad miming and mad skippy-dancing. Enjoy.

The Old Man Gets Dressed by Harry Stainton

Meant to post this ages ago, but forgot all about it. Harry wrote this on my laptop in the back of the car one day on the way home from a day out. Joe spent the journey licking his own feet and shouting "ROCK AND ROLL!"

Anyway, while H was writing this, he asked us how to spell "doofrols". "What now?" we said. "DOOFROLS!" he yelled. "Sorry… I don't know…" Harry, impatient: "Frols! F. R. O. L. S. How do you spell that?!" Heh.

Anyway. Here is Harry's first published (on my blog) story:

THE OLD MAN GETS DRESSED by Harry Stainton

onse upon a time ther is a old man called stanley he lived in a farm stanley wanted to wear his date dress but he put his doof frols by mistace but he did it again he put football shirt on by mistace but he did it again  he put his underpants on his head by mistace and finally he wear his date dress and he went to a date.

the end