Sara Jayne Townsend's Blog, page 30

Women in Horror #2: Alice

(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)

My second post in my series about kick-ass horror heroines features a marvellous character from a series of films inspired by a computer game.

If you’ve been following my blog a while you’ll know I have a fondness for ‘Resident Evil 4′ (and Leon). The video game franchise became a series of films. These have been met with mixed reviews. Those that don’t like them say they are lacking plot, lacking character development, lacking logic. I’m not quite sure what people expect from a series based on a game, but I always enjoyed them. OK, so they are not exactly intellectually stimulating, but there are days when a girl wants to switch off her brain and just sit on the sofa with wine and chocolate and enjoy some mindless zombie dismemberment.

Alice

For the live action series of films (there are some CGI animated ones as well), a new character was created who apppears in all the films. Her name is Alice, and on screen she’s played by Milla Jovovich.

Rumour has it that the character was created to be a kind of reverse version of Alice in Wonderland – an Alice in Dystopia. But she is by far the best thing about the Resident Evil films, and she’s a wonderfully kick-ass character. This lady is no damsel in distress. Her weapon of choice is a gun in either hand, fired at the same time. She has incredible aim, she is fast, smart, agile and resourceful. And she pretty much leaves all the men behind.

My favourite scene with Alice comes from “Resident Evil: Afterlife”, and also features Claire Redfield, who is a character from the games series. With the world being over-run by mutating zombies, a small band of survivors (led by Claire – in herself a strong character) encounter Alice, and they are trying to get out of an abandoned building over-run by zombies. They escape through the sewers. The boys have all run away, leaving Claire and Alice to it when the big guy with the giant meat tenderiser (a monster from Resident Evil 5) comes after them. But these two ladies can take care of themselves, as you can see from the attached video. If you’re wondering what’s with all the slow-motion, the films are mimicking the style of the games, because all the cut scenes feature slow-motion action.

Alice is a fabulous action heroine, and a prime example of a female horror icon who gives back as good as she gets. When the zombie apocalypse comes, I definitely want her on my team.

Monday’s Friend: Calisa Rhose

Today I’m interviewing romance writer Calisa Rhose on my blog. Welcome, Calisa.

Hi! I’m Calisa Rhose. What a thrill to be here today. Thank you for inviting me to your lovely blog, Sara Jayne.

SJT: When did you first know you were destined to be a writer?

CR:  I’ve been writing since I was around twelve years old. I started with poems and by the time I was fifteen I had begun writing love stories. I’ve dreamed of getting published since I was twelve or so and discovered my gramma’s Harlequin medicals.

 SJT:  Who would you cite as your influences?

CR:  Hm That’s a hard question because I don’t think I really have any influences as far as writing goes. But I took a lot of years off writing to raise my girls and when I came back I discovered authors like Nora Roberts and some lesser known romance authors at the time, Bronwyn Jameson and Emily Rose to name a couple, who gave me the courage to finally jump in with both feet and submit my first book in 2005.

 SJT:  What advice would you pass on to beginner writers that you wish someone had told you when you were first starting out?

CR:  It’s a long hard road but if you keep writing, reading and most of, for me, learning the craft it helps get over those rough spots. One thing I can say (slipping on my editor’s hat here) is if a writer–no matter where you are in your journey–will work hard to really edit and polish a manuscript (bleed all over it if necessary) BEFORE you submit, the less you’ll find in edits when you do send your baby in.

 SJT:  Are you at meticulous planner or a seat-of-the-pantser?

CR:  I’m a pantser for the most part, though there are times when planning out helps too. I rarely plot and when I do, I rarely follow the plan–but there are those times when it does help. J

SJT:  What is it about romance that draws you to write it?

CR:  Love, romance, the happy ever after. We know in real life a HEA is not always the case, but in my books I KNOW it will come. The journey is the best part. The trials, learning curves and growth of my characters is something I enjoy crafting and watching develop.

 SJT:  What was the inspiration behind your forthcoming release RISK FACTOR?

CR:  Haha That’s a funny story. My critique partner, Melinda Pierce challenged the whole group to write something, anything, for HQN/M&B’s Medical Fast Track Initiative in 2010. I don’t write medical but decided to accept her challenge, sure they would reject me on chapter one. I made it through to requested revisions, 8 months of them, before I decided in August 2011 that maybe M&B wasn’t the place for this particular story, and I should submit it somewhere else. That new place was Lyrical Press in Feb. 2012 when Editor In Chief Piper Denna did a blog pitch. She requested the full and then offered a contract in June that same year.

 SJT:  Are you ever inspired to put people you know in real life in your books?

CR:  There is this one pediatric orthopedic specialist who treated my granddaughter, Andee’s arm when she broke it last year whom I would love to put in a book. I might change his profession, but his name and looks are what romance heroes are made of; Austin Taylor–I even warned him it could happen. LOL Other than that, I haven’t been tempted to put real people in my books as such. All people I meet inspire every character in some way though.

 SJT:  What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

CR:  I have an old horse and we’ll go riding in warmer weather. Year round I love to spend time with family. I also read when I can. I like to sew and craft too.

Thanks again for having me, Sara Jayne!

I’d like to ask your readers what they would like to see in a book? Who knows, if someone gives me a great and unusual idea it might turn up in a plotline sometime soon.

BIO

Calisa Rhose is an Okie, born and bred, through and through, and proud of it. While growing up, when she wasn’t on the back of a horse, she could be found with pen and paper in hand. Her writing career began with poetry in her younger days. Then she discovered Rock-n-Roll and cute musicians. Poetry turned into stories of romance and dreams. These days she lives with the same man who convinced her to take a romantic journey with him almost 30 years ago. After raising three strong daughters she spends her days loving their granddaughters, hoping for a boy someday, and writing. When she’s not writing, you can find Calisa putting on her editor hat and working to help other published and aspiring writers.

She is working on more projects with her favored contemporary cowboys, first responders  and firemen. She plans to have some paranormal stories on the way to publication soon, as well (under a pen name tba).

Find out more about Calisa at her website, and you can also find her on Goodreads, Amazon, Facebook and on Twitter (@CalisaRhose)

Women in Horror #1: Buffy

(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)

February is Women in Horror month, where we officially pay homage to the importance that women play in the horror genre.

This year I am going to be doing a series of posts acknowledging those kick-ass heroines who redefine the role of women in horror.

Buffy

OK, so let’s start at the top. I am a HUGE Buffy fan.There are so many reasons why she is such a great role model. Joss Whedon said that the inspiration for Buffy came from the fact that in the horror films he grew up with, the blonde girl was always the one to creep alone down the corridor and get eaten by the monster. He decided the blonde girl should fight back. So he created his teenage California girl who had superpowers. Who was chosen to kick vampire butt.

There are a thousand reasons why I love Buffy. It’s the only show I will make a point of watching reruns of when they are on. The only show where I can start watching a random episode and know within five minutes not only which series it is, but which episode it it. It has irony. It has real, flawed characters who are affected by the world around them and change from series to series. One of the great things I loved from the beginning was the way it handled adolescence with sensitivity and wry humour. Anyone who’s been a teenager knows the hell that is High School. Every kid has to fight demons in high school. For most of us, those demons are metaphorical. Buffy’s demons just happen to be literal. As well as having to deal with the usual adolescent angst of not being popular, whether she’ll have a date for the dance, getting into trouble with her folks for staying out late, bullies, jocks vs geeks and so on, she also has to save the world from demons, vampires and the occasional apocalypse. And she still manages to graduate from high school (well, after she saves everyone from the ancient snake demon posing as the Mayor).

People who don’t understand my obsession with Buffy have said: “if you like Buffy, you must like Twilight. They’re both about girls in love with a vampire”. If you can’t get the difference, I can’t begin to explain it to you. Just watch this terrific video. Yes, I know I’ve posted it before, but it so proves a point.

Yes, Buffy loves Angel. But at the end of season 2, when she has to kill Angel to save the world, she does it. Even though she loves him. Because a true heroine has that kind of strength of character. And that’s another reason I love Buffy.

Monday’s Friend: Mae Clair

Today I’m pleased to welcome romance writer Mae Clair to the blog.

What do you Fear?

by Mae Clair

I want to thank Sara-Jane Townsend for allowing me to commandeer her blog today. It’s always fun when I get a change of scenery and the chance to visit with another blogger. Kind of like a day trip where I’m both a tourist and the person in control.

If you look ‘control’ up in the dictionary, you’ll find a description that includes ‘dominate’ and ‘command.’ Powerful words that feed confidence. But what if you found yourself suddenly stripped of those strengths?

Let me put it another way–what do you fear?

It’s a loaded question, one that makes most people squirm.  There are numerous evils in the world, things that terrify and induce nightmares but, for this post, I’m referring to something less horrific. Phobias are anxieties we deal with every day—fear of heights, flying, snakes, germs—take your pick, the list is endless. Even the commonplace quandaries of… is my job secure? Will the elevator get stuck between floors and trap me inside? Do I really want to ride that stratospheric sky-rush rollercoaster guaranteed to give me a nose bleed and tummy trauma?

Although each of these phobias are unique, they share a common denominator—lack of control. Why do people fear flying? Why are we helpless in the face of illness? Because we have no control over the situation. We’re at the mercy of powers we can’t manipulate, forced to trust the outcome. That’s hard to do if you’re used to influencing the results. It’s the difference between observing and being an active participant.

I want to take that one step further and introduce you to a character who values control above all other qualities. The hero of my paranormal/time travel romance, WEATHERING ROCK, Caleb DeCardian was a colonel for the Union Army during American’s Civil War. Yes, that Civil War, 1861-1865. A young officer, Caleb is used to being in charge and having others do exactly as he says when he orders. Imagine a person who thrives on self-discipline–who as a leader is emotionally detached–suddenly at the whim of a curse that controls him.

What curse?

That’s where the paranormal element of my novel comes into play. Caleb has been cursed by Seth Reilly, a man once his closet friend now a bitter rival, to life as a werewolf. Lycanthropy has robbed him of the control he values so highly, the mainstay of his life through the senseless tragedy of war. If that weren’t debilitating enough, he and Seth are transported to the 21st Century where nothing is as he remembers. Everything is strange, foreign and confusing.  The man accustomed to giving orders is now the one asking questions.

Thankfully, Caleb makes a few allies in the present, including a loyal descendant and a woman who is every bit as bewildering as his strange new century. Unfortunately, Seth has no plans of allowing him to live there peacefully—or remain alive.

Can Caleb defeat his enemy, win the woman he loves, and straddle two centuries to find happiness? I invite you to open the pages of WEATHERING ROCK to find out:

BLURB:

Drawn together across centuries, will their love be strong enough to defeat an ancient curse?

Colonel Caleb DeCardian was fighting America’s Civil War on the side of the Union when a freak shower of ball lightning transported him to the present, along with rival and former friend, Seth Reilly. Adapting to the 21st century is hard enough for the colonel, but he also has to find Seth, who cursed him to life as a werewolf. The last thing on Caleb’s mind is romance. Then fetching Arianna Hart nearly runs him down with her car. He can’t deny his attraction to the outspoken schoolteacher, but knows he should forget her.

Arianna finds Caleb bewildering, yet intriguing: courtly manners, smoldering sensuality and eyes that glow silver at night? When she sees Civil War photographs featuring a Union officer who looks exactly like Caleb, she begins to understand the man she is falling in love with harbors multiple secrets–some of which threaten the possibility of their happiness.

Finding a decent guy who’ll commit is hard enough. How can she expect Caleb to forsake his own century to be with her?



EXCERPT:

Caleb paced in the parlor, his head throbbing. He hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, his werewolf-enhanced vision acute without the extra illumination.

After Lucas Drake had dropped him off, barely a word passing between them, he’d prowled the crime scene. It was still taped off, two patrol officers and a squad car lingering over the cleanup. He’d crept beneath their noses, stealth a convenient advantage of lycanthropy. Seth’s odor had lingered like a fingerprint. In the air, on the ground, traceable in fat splotches of drying blood and patches of trampled grass. His rival hadn’t killed because he’d been driven to, but for pleasure and mastery. He’d killed to taunt Caleb.

“Bastard!” Caleb drove his fist into the wall. A framed watercolor shuddered beneath the blow, slipping on its hook to end at a lopsided angle. Outside, the distinctive purr of Wyn’s sporty BMW breezed up the drive and into the garage. Caleb didn’t need a clock to tell him it was after one AM, or that his nephew had kept him waiting longer than acceptable. And the fool had the nerve to accuse him of being preoccupied with sex!

It was damned unfair of Wyn to have a healthy, normal relationship with a woman when his own was eternally cursed. By the time his nephew walked up the porch steps, Caleb had wrenched open the front door.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Wyn gave a grunt, half laughter, half disbelief. “Work on your greeting, Colonel.” He shouldered past, pushing inside. “If you’re in a piss-poor mood, take a hike. I had a great night with Lauren and you’re not going to spoil it.”

“Winston!” But even the outrage that normally made his nephew draw up short in anger had no effect.

Wyn moved into the parlor and bent to switch on a lamp. “Some light wouldn’t hurt. Not all of us have your senses, Caleb.” Yawning, he rumpled a hand through his hair. “So, how was the big date? Did Arianna bring you home?”

“Lucas Drake brought me home,” Caleb snarled, thrusting past him. The glow from the lamp stung his eyes, intensifying the pain in his head. He didn’t know why he was so angry, at least not with Wyn. Seth was the one who took perverted pleasure in killing, taunting him with sadistic acts of violence. Trying to compose himself, he bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s been another killing.”

Wyn’s head snapped up in alarm. “Another deer?”

“No.” The hostility drained from Caleb along with the frustration that had plagued him since he’d heard the news. He should have been out looking for Seth earlier instead of trying to coax Arianna into bed. “Human. A man, earlier tonight, just down the road.”

The doctor swallowed, taking a hesitant step forward. His shadow leapt across the floor, pencil-thin on the braided rug. “Seth?”

Caleb lowered his hand, his expression cold. “What do you think?”

“I think someone needs to kill that sick son-of-a-bitch.” Wyn swung away, scrubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t make sense. For three years he’s been untraceable, now he’s on a killing spree in our backyard. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Wyn regarded him steadily. “Then I say we find a silver bullet and confide in someone. Maybe Drake.”

“And have him lock us away for mental instability? I’ll deal with Seth Reilly in my own time, Winston.”

“And what happens until then? He’s started killing people. People, damn it! Do you think he’s going to be satisfied with a deer now that he’s tasted human blood?”

Caleb looked away, wishing he could deny the truth. Seth’s brutal excitement at the murder scene had been almost tangible, lingering long after he was gone. Even Caleb had felt the allure of spilled blood, the grisly residue like a seductive siren song. For one heinous moment, he’d wanted to embrace the euphoria that came with animalistic power. He could almost hear Seth laughing.

Admit you want it, Caleb. You’ve always wanted power, authority over others, Colonel DeCardian. You’re glad I made you what you are.

View Book Trailer for WEATHERING ROCK

Buy WEATHERING ROCK at:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

Lyrical Press

iBooks

AUTHOR BIO:

Mae Clair opened a Pandora’s Box of characters when she was a child and never looked back.  Her father, an artist who tinkered with writing, encouraged her to create make-believe worlds by spinning tales of far-off places on summer nights beneath the stars. She snagged the tail of a comet, hitched a ride, and discovered her writer’s Muse on the journey.

Mae loves creating character-driven fiction in settings that vary from contemporary to mythical. Wherever her pen takes her, she flavors her stories with conflict, romance and elements of mystery. Married to her high school sweetheart, she lives in Pennsylvania and is passionate about writing, old photographs, a good Maine lobster tail and cats.

You can find Mae Clair at the following haunts:

Website

Blog

Twitter (@MaeClair1)

Facebook Author Page

Goodreads

Women in Horror – Introduction

February is official Women in Horror month. If you don’t want to click the link and read the official blurb, I have posted the mission statement here.

“Every February, Women in Horror Recognition Month (WiHM) assists underrepresented female genre artists in gaining opportunities, exposure, and education through altruistic events, printed material, articles, interviews, and online support. WiHM seeks to expose and break down social constructs and miscommunication between female professionals while simultaneously educating the public about discrimination and how they can assist the female gender in reaching equality.”

A group of fellow writers have come together on AbsoluteWrite to promote WiHM, as we did last year. Here is a list of participating blogs. Not everyone has begun to post yet, but please check out these blogs regularly over the next month to keep up to date with what’s going on.

Diane Dooley

The Girl in the Soap Dish

Glitter and Gore

Smoking Simian Scribbles

The Graveyard

Die Laughing

Johnny Compton

Lizzy’s Dark Fiction

Crunchy Says

Stained Glass in the Night

Last year I promoted several female horror writers. This year, in an attempt to do something different, I’m going to showcase fictional kick-ass heroines of horror. I realise that fictional characters do not completely conform to the WiHM mission statement. However, I think female role models are crucial to young women, and the fictional ones, who know how to stand up for themselves, are just as important as real-life role models. So for the next four weeks I am going to showcase female leads who are no victims. Who do not stand there and scream before getting eaten by the monster. Women who know how to fight back. Women who know how to kick serious butt.

I will be running this series on Wednesdays, cross-posted on the WriteClub blog, so check back on 6 February to meet the first of my kick-ass horror heroines. Oh, and there will be no prizes for guessing who she will be.

Anatomy of Grief

I went to a funeral yesterday. The service was to say goodbye to Denni Schnapp, who committed suicide on 17 January, after years of struggling with depression. She was 48. She had been a member of the T Party writers’ group for many years, and that’s how I knew her.

There were maybe a dozen people representing the writing group at the funeral. Funeral services are, of course, always sombre affairs. Denni was an atheist. Her funeral service was humanist – celebrating her life, and giving everyone permission to mourn her death. Accepting the person she was, and the way she chose to die, without judgement.

Following the service there was a wake, held at the pub that had been Denni’s local. There I met others who had shared Denni’s life, and it became clear that there were so many facets to her that I had never known about. We knew Denni the writer. Others there had known Denni the scientist, Denni the scholar, Denni the traveller. It seemed she compartmentalised these facets of her life, presenting the face that was most appropriate. There were very few people indeed who knew every side of her.

The tragic news about Denni reached us two weeks ago. I can’t communicate the story behind this quite as eloquently as a fellow T Party member has already expressed on her blog, so go read it now. Come back when you’re done, and I’ll finish my story.

For two weeks after Denni’s death I felt like I was wading through treacle. Getting out of bed every morning was a struggle. I dragged myself through the business of the day, finding it hard not to fall asleep at my desk, and yet when night came I lay awake, unable to sleep. I attributed this to the weather. It was dark and cold in the mornings. There was snow on the ground, and January is a notoriously depressing month. I had some variation of Seasonally Affected Disorder, maybe.

I realise now that I was in a state of grief. This revelation came as a surprise. Denni was not a close friend. The death of my grandparents did not hit me as hard as her death appeared to. But in retrospect, I suppose one expects to outlive one’s grandparents. I reached the age of 26 with four living grandparents – I’d had many years to prepare myself emotionally for the inevitability of their passing, and when it came (and they all died with a span of three years), I was sad, but I could accept it. The death of someone who was of my generation, someone with whom I shared the common interest of writing, has affected me in ways I could not have anticipated.

Denni was someone I knew socially, and I realise now I did not know her well. But I’ve chatted to her. I’ve drank with her, most notoriously at Heather Graham’s infamous pierside party at HorrorCon 2010 in Brighton, where there was a free bar. I’ve critiqued her work and had her critique mine. She had a towering intellect, to the point that the rest of humanity seemed way down the evolutionary scale. She wrote hard SF stories that often featured groups of humans adapting to life on an alien world. The research was meticulous, with every detail of the ecosystem considered and accounted for. She was fascinated by humanity, but often seemed unable to connect with it – in the way that a scientist might study a beetle under a microscope.

The way she chose to die should not have surprised anyone who knew her – she had broadcast her intentions often enough in the public domain – but her death still came as a shock. Mental illness is a tragedy. I often say I get depressed, but my kind of depression is pretty lightweight from a clinical perspective. I have days when a black cloud hangs over my head for no apparent reason. When getting out of bed is a struggle, and I go through the motions of life feeling no joy. But I have never – not for a second – considered ending it all. When it comes down to the bare bones, I want to live. That most basic of human instincts – survival – will always kick in. And intellectually I know the black cloud will move on, as suddenly as it appeared, in a few days. Because it always does. Those who suffer real depression, clinical depression, have some chemical imbalance in the brain that seems to over-ride that survival instinct, and sometimes it leads to them feeling the only release is death. Because Denni was an atheist, she did not even believe that she was going to a better place. I find it incredibly heartbreaking that for her, complete oblivion was preferable to the pain of living.

All of these feelings have been churning away in my brain for the last two weeks, but I was not able to differentiate and define them. Only when I was on my way home yesterday after leaving the wake, did the cloud suddenly lift and I was able to identify it at last. It was grief. Grief for someone who passed through my life and left an indelible impression.

I now feel I understand grief in a way I never have before. Death is painful, but inevitable. Grief is a part of the process. Grief affects people in different ways. It can’t be predicted, and it can’t be denied. The only way to be able to move on from death is to embrace the grief, and let it take its course. The lady who led Denni’s funeral service began with words that pretty much reflected this sentiment. I now understand what she meant.

Goodbye, Denni. I feel privileged to have known you. I am sorry that you could not find peace in life. Those of us whose lives crossed with yours are all the richer for it.

My Life in Books: Burn Marks

In 1989, I had a job working in a book shop in Central London. I was there for two years. Although I loved being around books all day, I wasn’t so fond of dealing with customers.

However, that job was where I really began to build up my own personal library. Before then, I’d largely acquired my books from the library. With this job, not only was I around books all day and therefore just about every day I’d come across at least I wanted to read, we also got a staff discount, so we were able to buy them at a reasonable price.

And so this is when I started buying books instead of borrowing them – a habit I still continue.

Like all book shops, ours used to have signing sessions with authors. Most of them were lovely. A few of them weren’t so lovely. I’m not naming any names. Suffice to say that since the shop was in Westminster, most of our most notorious “authors” were politicians…

And then Sara Paretsky came to see us, for a signing session of her new release BURN MARKS. Up to then, I hadn’t heard of her, or her books. But she came, she was lovely, and I liked the sound of her kick-ass character V.I. Warshawski. So I bought the book, and had her sign it. Andthen I read it, and my life was changed.

V.I. Warshawski remains my premier example of a tough female heroine. She’s smart, she’s outspoken, she knows her own mind and she’s not afraid to voice her opinion – even though doing so often makes enemies. Over the years she’s had many lovers, but none of them have made her happy enough to want to give up her independence for them, and she’s still single, preferring instead the company of her friends and her dogs. Daughter of an Italian singer and a Polish cop – both immigrants to the US – V.I. is an orphan, but her fierce love for her parents shapes her personality, and her desire to speak up for the underdog, especially oppressed women, colours her actions.

This is not the first book in the series. If you’ve never read any of Sara Paretsky’s novels, start with the first one, INDEMNITY ONLY, which introduces us to V.I. After I read BURN MARKS I started the series from the beginning. I’ve read them all, and in my opinion Sara Paretsky has not written a bad V.I. Warshawski novel yet.

Yes, I am a hardcore Sara Paretsky fangirl. And proud of it. There aren’t enough V.I. Warshawskis in the world, in my opinion. As long as Sara Paretsky keeps on writing books about her, I shall keep on flying the flag declaring her the best fictional heroine ever.

Hibernation

(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)

My dislike of January is well known – I do a post like this about this time every year.

I don’t like the cold. I seem to have the blood of a lizard. And I really don’t like snow. When you can sit at home all day by the fire, and don’t have to be anyplace, it probably looks pretty, but when you have to go to work in it – particularly on public transport – it’s a pain in the backside. At least in London our snow fall is generally fairly short lived. If I liked snow I’d still be living in Canada, where it covers the ground for nearly six months of the year.

I spend January bundled up in thick jumpers and thermal vests and socks, shivering on the station platform waiting for a delayed train, arguing with my office mates about how hot we can have the central heating (I want it at ‘tropical’ mode – they don’t), and generally feeling tired and run down. I seem to go into a kind of hibernation. Getting out of bed in the morning is a supreme effort and I drag through each day feeling half asleep, not being able to focus my brain on anything. Moving becomes an effort. I don’t go to the gym, I don’t do much writing, and I spend as much time as possible in bed. But it doesn’t really matter because no matter how much or little sleep I get, I still struggle to stay awake during the day. And I crave sugar and carbs even more than usual, because I feel I need the energy.

When I’m not at work, I spend my time playing video games, because they don’t require too much mental energy and distract me from how tired I’m feeling. Now, I am aware of my weaknesses. I would be quite capable of spending all day, every day playing video games if I didn’t have to go to work. And there are many weekends in January when I do pretty much do that, leaving the sofa only to use the bathroom, go to bed, or get myself more chocolate. But the price you pay for being a grown-up is having to do stuff you don’t really want to do a lot of the time, like go to work every day.

So far I’ve not had a terribly productive January. I’ve eaten a lot of biscuits, and made progress in ‘Dragon Age’, but not done much else. Come to think of it, I was in the same situation last year.

Roll on Spring, when I can wake up and emerge from my hibernation…

Monday’s Friend: Susan Parker

Today I am pleased to welcome Susan Parker to the blog, who is going to tell us all about her goals for the year. Take it away, Susan!

It is my birthday today. Around this sort of time of the year I’ve often lost track of my resolutions or things I’ve said I would do and I start to get nostalgic of what the previous year has given me.

It is certainly safe to say that the past twelve months have made the most challenging year of my life. There had been personal challenges, work challenges, educational challenges. There were so many points in the past year when I had felt entirely lost. Whilst other people were sending off 2012 with disappointment that it had to end, I was contemplating a better year ahead. This isn’t a sob story at all, in fact, I’m trying to address the issue of a change of perspective.

The state of one’s ideas, or ‘perspective’ is not something easily changed. There are some days when the thought of writing fills me with dread. Don’t get me wrong, I want to write, I have so many ideas, I want to get back into the routine, but I never feel like I can.

Tomorrow is going to pass no matter what, so is the next month, so is the next year. When you think of it that way, all the days that I (and possibly even you) are spent thinking about what to do become useless, we could be working during this time. We could be productive during this time.

It is not at New Years that I make my resolutions, it is now. I don’t want to look back at this year and wish I’d have done more. I am going to write, and study and learn and absorb as much knowledge and inspiration and happiness as I possibly can.

When I read Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray for the first time, this paragraph struck me instantly. Not only is it beautifully written, but Rebecca’s (the protagonist) strength shines through.

“But Rebecca was a young lady of too much resolution and energy of character to permit herself much useless and unseemly sorrow for the irrevocable past; so, having devoted only the proper portion of regret to it, she wisely turned her whole attention towards the future, which was now vastly more important to her. And she surveyed her position, and its hopes, doubts, and chances.”

I think it’s time we all look to the future. The past certainly cannot be changed, but what are my goals for the next year?

I want to finish my book and start editing it. I want to succeed at work, and I want to succeed in my studies. It may be a grand challenge (in fact there will be times when I get close to giving up) but to look back at a year full of success will be special to me.

When I say I write history a lot of responses are given. More often than not the generic response is “like textbooks?” No! Not like textbooks! A textbook is a study aid. Writing history is more than that. It’s presenting the past, it’s displaying your opinions on the past, it’s a way of seeing links between the past and our present. In fact, it was when I started writing and researching and getting thoroughly involved with ancient history that I finally felt happy and settled in myself and what I was doing. My perspective had changed.

It is a very lucky situation to be in when you realise what things make you happy, and when you realise what that may be – you need to go out and chase it. Hopefully I have been a somewhat motivational guest to this blog, perhaps my pep talk would have inspired some of you go pursue a hobby or banish procrastination.

At least, if it hasn’t helped anyone else – it’s certainly made me want to get back into writing and continue to work towards my goals!

Bio:

Susan works full time in a school and is completing a degree in Classical Studies at the same time. She is currently working on a book about Ancient Egypt. To learn more about Susan, and her interest in writing and history check out her blog at: http://mahirnaem.blogspot.co.uk/

Speed Reading

(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)

I’ve been reading books since I first learned how to read. In fact, I’ve been devouring books since then. It’s always been about finishing one and going straight on to the next one. I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t another book to read once the current one was finished.

Some people have told me I’m a fast reader. I never really thought about it in this way. I do get through a lot of books – average count is about one a week. But I spend over two hours a day on public transport, going to and from work, and most of that time is reading time.

I do prefer books that are plot driven, and the vast majority of the books I read fall in the genres of crime and horror. The nature of these genres generally demands a suspenseful plot, and when I am reading I am focused on getting to the end of the page so I can turn over and find out what happens next. So maybe I do read fast. I never thought about the fact that I might read faster than other people, until recently.

Every day I take the train into London Victoria, and then I have two stops on the underground to work. I am on the underground for precisely four minutes. I’ve been doing this journey a long time – trust me, I know how long it takes. Four minutes is generally not long enough to get back into my book, in my view – by the time I’ve jostled with the crowd to gain access to my bag, get out the book or the e-reader and find the right page, it’s time to get off the train. And I’m generally standing on the underground anyway, which makes it even more awkward. So more often than not, as I’m hanging onto a pole being jostled around on the subway train, I’m standing next to someone who is sitting down, reading a book of some sort. Being a nosy sort of person, and as there’s not much else to look at on the underground, I’m reading over their shoulder. I’ve started to notice that in those four minutes I am reading their book over their shoulder, the person doesn’t turn the page. I get off at my stop and they are still on the same page they were when I got on four minutes ago. I’ve read that page four times over in that time.

So I’m starting to think maybe I do read faster than most people. I don’t pick up every detail of plot; I’m wanting to know what happens on the next page, instead of focusing on every detail on this page. I probably don’t savour a book; I devour it.

This has always been the way I read, and I never thought there was anything wrong with it. There are a lot of books in the world to read and we’ve only got so many years to read them, so I don’t want to spend too much time on each one. Most of the books I read I don’t remember much about a year or so later. The books that make a particular impact do stay with me – and they are the ones that are featuring in my ‘My Life in Books’ series. Books that I can still remember, because they made an impact.

I read so many books that sometimes I’ll pick one up and be halfway through it before I remember I read it before – some details seem familiar. But because I don’t remember every detail, I can re-read books and enjoy them again, because I don’t remember much about the first time around. This is another reason why I like Goodreads. I can log all the books I read and the log will job my memory about what I’ve read and what I thought of it. And of course it also lets me keep a list of everything I’ve read, which appeals to my anal nature.

Anyway, got to run. There are still more books out there to read…