Stuart Aken's Blog, page 266

Why I Set my Novel in the Yorkshire Dales.

Writers choose locationsfor their fiction for all manner of reasons. Sometimes it's because the placeis a familiar haunt. Sometimes the setting is exactly right for the fabric ofthe story. Sometimes the landscape is so alien to the author that it stimulateshis imagination.
I grew up in Yorkshire andit has been my home for much of my adult life, though by no means all of it.Many years ago, when I was married to my first wife, in fact, (and I've beenmarried to my current lovely lady for coming up to 24 years) we were walking ina particularly remote and rugged part of the Yorkshire Dales. There are somesink holes in this area. For those who don't know, these are geologicalfeatures that are best described as vertical caves. Often quite deep, usuallynarrow, they are places where water has eaten away the porous rock and left adeep pit in the surface of the Earth. The Buttertubs, as this particular set ofsink holes is known, are a series of pits close to the narrow and precipitousroad that leads from Hawes to Muker. Readily accessible, they are a touristattraction for many motorists but few walkers.
It was a chill and windyday when I approached these holes in the ground, grey clouds skimmed a palesun, and the gusty wind made waves through the long grass. At that time, thepits were unfenced and entirely open to public gaze with none of the modernobsessive concern for 'health and safety' rules. It was possible to step rightup to and, indeed, over, the edges of these shafts. I am uncomfortable withheights and, since I was determined to gaze into the bottom of the largest anddeepest, I sank to my knees and crawled forward until I could safely peer intothe dim depths. As I did so, quite inexplicably, I was visited by a brief imageof a woman's body at the bottom and the question was posed in my writer's mind,'What would you do if you found a dead body down there?'
That thought stayed with meover the years. A divorce and remarriage took me to different parts of thecountry and overseas for the first time. But I was drawn again and again to theYorkshire Dales until, almost on a whim, my wife and I with our new daughterjust 2 years old, moved into the area to live. Our walks became regular events,regardless of weather. We experienced everything from dry thirsty heatwaves toicy winters cloaked in deep drifting snow and everything in between, as canonly happen in good old island Britain.
It was whilst we lived inthis location that the initial question slowly coalesced into a plot, peopledby the characters I had long lived with in my imagination. The story developedand the setting became part of the narrative, as much a character in the taleas Faith or Leigh, in fact. It was the natural setting for the rugged and toughtale and the fact that I was living in it made the descriptions so much easier.So, the first draft was completed at the same time as I renovated the housewe'd bought and worked part time for a local holiday accommodation company.
Life came along, in theform of redundancy, just days before the new millennium was about to commence.At the age of 51, I understood my chances of re-employment in the area wereslim and I moved the family back to my native East Yorkshire, where I found ajob. It was some years before I found time to write again and dug out thatfirst draft. I changed the viewpoint characters, giving both the male andfemale protagonists a chance to have their say in first person. I changedrelationships that formed essential background to the story. I changedincidents. I changed the ages of the protagonists. What I didn't change was thesetting. The Yorkshire Dales remained as valid a landscape as it had been fromthe beginning.
For those who don't knowthe area, it is a National Park. An area of outstanding natural beauty andconsidered by many to be the best walking country in Europe. It's populated bya native people who are as tough as the characteristic dry stone walls, asstubborn as the local sheep, as different as individuals as are the inhabitantsof any region.
I changed the time frameto a period that was historically real: the severe drought of 1976, since theweather and the burgeoning philosophy of 'free love' allowed me to introduce adegree of external nudity that would otherwise be unlikely in this wildcountry. The nudity was an essential element in the relationship of the twoprotagonists and a useful tool in examining the fight between innocence andcorruption that is at the heart of the story.
So, there you have it.Those are the reasons I came to set my romantic thriller, Breaking Faith, inone of the most beautiful parts of the English countryside. Many readers havecommented on how apt the setting is. Whether you'll agree or not can only bedetermined by reading the book. And I give you the opportunity to do that forfree here on this blog. Each week of this year I am posting a chapter. Thereare 50 in all, so it'll last for almost the whole year. And each post isaccompanied by one of my photographs taken in the Dales, so you can experiencethe landscape for yourself. I started in January and the link to that firstinstalment is here. You'll find the rest of the early chapters listed inthe archive and you're welcome to join the readers as we take the journeytogether to the end.

The Week, Writing and Other Things.

The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity (Photo credit: Wikipedia)I started reading Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way last week, without realising it's actually a 12 week course. So, I decided I'd try it out. I've previously done the exercises in Dorothea Brande's Becoming a Writer and found them extremely useful, so I thought this might prove a similar experience. My verdict, after the first week?  I think this might be something special. You have to get over her use of 'God' as a generic term for the creative force outside yourself, but, once you've overcome that barrier, a lot of what she says makes sense. I've already identified incidents that may well have been responsible for various barriers I've placed in my own way throughout life and I'm now ready to do something about removing or clearing those hurdles.

The grass has had its first cut, the mild weather allowing it to grow at an alarming rate. So, a few hours spent in the garden. There's a deal to do out there, but most of it will have to wait until I have more free time and spare energy.

My brother and his wife are leaving the town for a village some 70 miles or so away, so we spent a grand evening with them and drank too much wine but had a great time. As he's been clearing his bookshelves for the move, I've also inherited some new books to add to my 'to read' stack, which now totals over 190 titles. Updated the lists on the blog and Goodreads to account for that.

Read my Writers' Forum magazine and Writers' Digest and updated the Writing Contests page on the blog here. After asking the question, I discovered a way to place PDF docs on the blog, so I've installed one for the contests, another for my 'to read' list and yet another under the 'Tools & Links' tab; this latter is an alphabetical listing of over 10,000 first names taken from all over the world and colour coded for gender. Useful for searching for suitable character names, or even for choosing the name for your new baby. And, since these are PDF docs, I thought I'd better install a link for people to download the Abode PDF reader, which is free, in case they don't have it.

So, not a lot of writing done, apart from the 3 hand-written pages that are a daily requirement of the course, and a feature to place on the blog at the end of the month. But I'm gradually clearing the decks and making space to get on with some serious work in the near future.

The NaNoWriMo novel? I'm no longer sure what to do with that. Let's say it's not developing the way I had hoped. Time will tell on that one.

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 11.

If you've come this far,you don't need me blathering on with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.
But, if you missed thestart, here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Chapter 1 appeared on 13January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via thearchive.
Read, enjoy, invite yourfriends.
Chapter 11
I was not afraid ofcontact with others; I simply had not experienced it. Amongst men, only Father,Furnswurth and Leigh had touched me. Furnswurth's slimy touch had repulsed me.Father habitually slapped whatever uncovered part of me was within easy reachor pressed his hand on the skin of my back as he beat me with his belt. WhenLeigh held my elbow to guide me into the shop, I simply felt wanted.Leigh was eager to be out of the typewriter shopand would have chosen the first machine we saw: I had to use it. From my daysat the Dairy, I knew there were many to choose from and I wanted one that woulddo the job efficiently and without bother. He allowed me time to test and Iselected an electronic machine with a choice of daisy wheels and a correction facility.Leigh handed over a shiny plastic card; no money changed hands so I wondered atthe transaction.'What's that?''Credit card.''Have you given them money with that?'He explained.'I see.' I did not see at all, but there was morethan I could learn in a few seconds and Leigh wanted us out of the shop.'Are we going back now?''To the car.''Oh.''You sound disappointed.''I thought we were going to …''We are. I just don't want to lug this round allday. We'll drop it in the boot and then find a fashion boutique.''What's that?''A shop that sells clothes; usually women'sclothes. Don't mind the walk, do you?''Mind? I'd walk all day for some new clothes,Leigh. When you talked of presents, I never thought you meant clothes.''I thought you weren't interested. I'm being a bitselfish, really. Want to see you in something better than … better than thatstuff.''You surely didn't think I wear these fromchoice?''What was I supposed to think?''I have no spending money. Father gets all myclothes for me, from jumble sales.''All?''Yes. Including my underwear, if you must know.'That single piece of information galvanized Leigh.He hurried me to the car and stashed the typewriter away.'Right. First port of call is Marks and Sparks,where every modern miss buys her knickers. Let's start at the bottom, if you'llexcuse the pun, and work upwards and outwards.' He was all eagerness and my ownexcitement fed off his so that we acted like boisterous children.'Come on.' He clasped my hand and it felt good. Weran from the car park together along a path by the slow brown river. Laughing,we leapt over puddles of last night's rain, now drying rapidly in the warmth ofthe early spring day. At last, out of breath, we stopped and I rested my backagainst the shiny trunk of a cherry tree as Leigh stood in front of mebreathing hard and grinning fit to crack his face in two.A short pause and he took my hand again and wewalked this time, the thrill of his touch suffusing me with a new pleasure.Through the crowds we went, oblivious of their numbers as we laughed ateverything and nothing on our way to the shop.It was the biggest building I had ever been in andwould have been intimidating without Leigh. He led me to a corner where hugeblack and white pictures of young women in underwear hung from the ceiling andcovered the walls.Before this, I had seen only the inside of MrsGreenhough's shop in the village. She kept a small stock of ladies' pants andtights discreetly in a corner, piled on a shelf with the woolly hats andwalking socks. Anyone not looking for the items themselves would not recognizethem from their plain packaging.Here, in this enormous store, however, young womenclad only in the clothing within, brazenly displayed the contents of each pack.I understood where Abby bought her revealing underwear; though I could seenothing quite as scandalous as some of the items she took off for Leigh when hewas photographing her. Leigh, of course, was completely at home and not in theleast embarrassed.I took my lead from him as he matter-of-factlywalked up to a woman in the shop uniform and asked her to measure me. Hewhispered something to her and she gave me a peculiar look but nodded atLeigh's comment and led me to a curtained cubicle. There, I removed the clothesshe said I must if I wanted the right size and subjected myself to her tapemeasure. She was very polite as she gave me my sizes and left me to dress.Leigh was waiting outside as I emerged. 'Iwouldn't normally enquire, but since I'm supposed to be helping, you'll have toreveal your statistics to me.'I told him what the woman had said and he noddedapprovingly as if I had passed some sort of test.'You're sure that's what she said?'I nodded.'Positive?''Yes. Why?''Shame. I was hoping to measure you myself, justto make sure. Though, tell the truth, that's exactly what I would've guessed.'His smile was so mischievous I had to laugh. Ibegan to understand why women found him so attractive. 'You're a very wickedman, Leighton Longshaw.' 'I know,terrible isn't it? Right. You'd be fine without a bra but I doubt you'd feel atease. So, we're not looking for support. Do you want pretty-pretty or asmoother, softer line?'After some searching, we found some that I likedand Leigh felt would suit me. He sent me to the cubicle to try them on, warningme to leave my own knickers on when I tried the new ones. Just a curtainbetween the world and me. I felt so vulnerable.'Will you stay just outside, please, Leigh?''I'll come in and hold the curtain closed.''You will not! Oh, you wicked man.' I had to laughand he was good, making me feel less exposed by standing outside with his backto the curtain.'They feel wonderful. It seems a shame you'llnever get to see your present.'He stopped himself from speaking and propelled meback to the spot we had found them. 'As long as they're comfortable.'He chose three sets of bras in different colours,so that I had a dozen in total, and two pairs of knickers to match each, plusspares in white.'Will I need as many as that?'He gave me a look that Ma would call oldfashioned. 'It's usual for a lady to wear a fresh pair each day.'It was as if he had caught me doing something notvery nice and I felt a need to explain. 'If it's about cleanliness, I do washthem every evening ready for the next day.'Leigh's face settled on sympathy. He reachedtoward me and I knew he wanted to embrace me, to comfort me as though I was sador distressed but we were in a public place and I stretched out my handinstead. He squeezed it tenderly. 'Oh, Faith, what has that bastard done toyou?'It was not until we were at the counter, paying,that I realized he had meant Father. I should have been annoyed, but Leigh'svery real concern for me contrasted so strongly with Father's indifference andharshness that I found myself again questioning which man was right.Leigh held the carrier bag open for me. 'I've paidfor this lot so you can put some of it on whilst you select your outer clothes.Now, question is, do you want to select something from here…?''You're going to buy me something else? All thisis more than I expected when you said...''I'm not having you walk round York in yourunderwear, young lady, no matter how much you may wish to.' He said it loudlyenough and in just the right tone to make some of those waiting to pay lookshocked and make me laugh when I should have been cross with him. I felt sohappy and unrestrained by his company that I had to join in. 'Okay, I'll notbother to wear the underwear, then.'One old woman looked even more shocked, the othersjust laughed. Leigh seemed as delighted as he was surprised.'Come on, Miss Precocious, let's get out of herebefore we're arrested.'Outside the shop entrance he stopped. 'Now lookwhat you've done! I've brought you out here when you might want to stay inthere to make your next choice.''What else were you planning to buy me, Leigh?''No arguments?''I promised, and I keep my promises.''Okay. I want to get you something for work,something casual for occasions like this and something special for the evening.How does that sound?'He was so excited and eager I did not have theheart to tell him I never went anywhere for the evening. 'It sounds expensiveand far too generous.' His determined look re-appeared. 'And wonderful, Leigh.''Excellent. M and S is best for the work stuff.Shall we go back in?'Between us, we found a lovely lilac trouser suitwith flared bottoms and a deep purple blouse to go under the jacket so I couldwear it undone. In great trepidation, and with Leigh standing guard as before,I put on my new underwear. It felt wonderful after the old woman's bra andschool gym knickers and I walked out to display my trouser suit to Leighfeeling proud and liberated.'Lovely. You look really lovely, Faith. I hope you'lllet me see whether you've got legs when it comes to the other stuff.''You're disappointed.''I'm a man. Your choice is perfect for the office.You look great.'I kept the suit on for our visit to three fashionshops but I left the last one wearing my very first mini skirt, much against mybetter judgement and largely as a way of thanking Leigh. Black polyesterdisplayed half the length of my thighs and flared softly in the wind so that Ifelt almost naked. Sheer tights sheathed my legs from waist to new, heeledshoes in black patent leather. My top was caressed by a natural linen blousethat would have exposed my breasts if not for the soft new bra I wore. 'Fabulous. You shouldn't hide pins like those.God, but you're a pretty woman, Faith.'Leigh's admiration was wonderful and I feltconfident in my sudden attractiveness, knowing I found favour in his experteyes. But he really boosted my confidence when he asked if he could photographme. As the object of his lens, I must be good to look at.'Amazing. You're a different and very lovelywoman, Faith.''Thank you, Leigh. But I'm the same woman, just indifferent wrappings. Are you happy to be seen with me like this?' I knew theanswer but I wanted to hear him say it. And I realized, with that knowledge, howfundamentally I had changed in those few short hours.'Happy? I was pleased to be with you before,Faith. Now, I'm proud and delighted and smug at the jealous looks from theother men.''I never knew clothes could make so muchdifference. I always thought they were superficial. But I actually feeldifferent, more confident, and that means other people look at me in a new way.And I like it. I feel wonderful.''You look wonderful. I knew there was a beautifulwoman in there trying to get out.'We were back at the car park. We were more or lessalone. I kissed his cheek and he held my arms and kissed my lips very softlyfor a short eternity.'Thank you, Leigh. Thank you for the clothes, forthe feeling of self-esteem you've brought me.' And for the kiss on the mouththat I wanted him to repeat.He shook his head as if puzzled and put the bagsof clothes, including my dress for the evening, in the car. I took his hand andhe bowed his head at me in a gesture I took to be thanks as he led me once morefrom the car park.This time we sauntered down winding, narrowstreets thronged with people. It was one of those days that sometimes fall atthe end of March; bright and warm after the winter chill, clear and clean and apleasure to walk through. It was the first of many unseasonably warm days in thatyear of the long hot summer.I had expected the initial thrill that had passedfrom his hand to mine to fade as we walked but it remained, spreading throughme, suffusing my whole being with a sensation both pleasurable and disturbingin its intensity.'Where are we going?''Up to you. I thought museum, art gallery or theMinster?''The Minster; a thirteenth century cathedralchurch. Father says it's an abomination. Where is it? I'd like to see such abuilding.'Leigh pointed ahead. There, looming over the wholeof the street and higher than any building I had ever seen, was a colossaledifice that could only be some sort of church. It was massive and ornatelycarved with twin towers and a huge door. Father described it as the haunt ofthe Devil; a gaudy house to tempt men's souls away from contemplation, built bythe rich and powerful as a show of their wealth and influence. 'Nothing to dowith God.' He had said.But I stood awestruck by the majesty of thebuilding. It seemed to me to be a statement made by humble men glorying in thewonder of their God, a suitable place to give praise and thanks.'Impressive, isn't it?' Though Leigh seemed lessthan impressed.I nodded.'Showy and ornate and precious little to do with God,of course, but then, what building has anything to do with God? They're alljust opportunities for men to display their power or skill or wealth. Doesn'tdetract from its beauty and magnificence, though.'I was amazed to hear Leigh echo Father's sentiments.It seemed inconceivable that the two men could have a single thought in common.That they should find agreement in a religious matter of all things completelydumbfounded me. I had to see the interior for myself after such denunciation.Sunlight cast great rainbows of brilliance on thefloor and rows of wooden seats, streaming down in slanting shafts from thestained glass windows. I thought of Leigh's studio and smiled at the memory.'Penny for them?''Similarities of atmosphere but such contrasts ofpurpose.' I let him work that out and went to sit at the end of a row of vacantseats so that I could absorb the atmosphere. It was the first time I sat in amini skirt and I understood at once why women wore tights with them. But myconcern over possible breaches of modesty was short lived.I stared at the walls, the great ceiling archingoverhead, the vast spaces between the massive pillars and wondered how such aplace could exist. And, for me, Leigh and Father were both wrong about thebuilding's association with God.People were milling about all over but they werequiet and kept their voices low, as if awed by the colossal nature of theplace; the whole building was filled with undulating background murmuring.And then I gained a small piece of paradise.Just as Leigh sat beside me and opened his mouthto ask for an explanation of my enigmatic comment, the huge building filledwith musical sound.I was still absorbing the concept of music, neverhaving heard it at the cottage and only rarely encountering it at the Dairy.The radio was constantly on in the kitchen at Longhouse, so I was growingaccustomed to the wide variety of tunes and songs available through that magicbox and getting to know and enjoy quite a lot of them. Ma loved her CliffRichard and The Beatles and even one or two of the most modern groups. Leighseemed to like almost any sort of music. But nothing had prepared me for thesound that now assailed my senses.All the quiet chatter and whispering stopped assomeone began to play the organ. Leigh pointed out the array of pipes andquickly explained where the instrument was located as the organist played anapparently random series of notes. Silence fell for no more than a couple ofseconds and one or two people began to move and talk again. Then the organbegan a piece of music I shall never forget. Everyone fell still again.It began with slow, soft, gentle forays intoaffection and regard; light, joyful and promising. Gradually it built in scope,volume and complexity until the whole magnificent house of God filled withcrescendos of love and joy and exultation, culminating in a climax of purewonder and spiritual ecstasy. I felt lifted and thrilled, a spiritual wholenessenveloped me and I felt at one with the music and its power of celebration andworship in a way I had never experienced before. The music sighed softly andtenderly back into silence. And the quiet that followed was, for a few preciousseconds, absolute.I squeezed Leigh's hand in mine, barely daring tolook into his face in case it should reveal the same emotions I felt, or incase it should not. When I did look at him, I knew he felt exactly like me. Itwas a moment I wanted to last forever.But many missed the point and there was a buzz ofreaction before they continued their sight-seeing, as if it had been merely apleasant interlude.We sat, souls entwined, for as long as theyallowed but the mood was gone and we were forced back to Earth again.'What was that?''Nimrod, from Elgar's Enigma Variations, butplayed in a way I've never experienced before. It's actually a secular piecebut there was more than a touch of worship in that rendition. Brilliant.Extraordinary. Incredibly moving.'It always surprised me that Leigh knew about somany things. 'After that, Leigh, the rest of this church can only disappointme. Can we go back outside, away from the idle chatter?'He did not object or question me but understoodexactly what I felt.In the bright sunshine, we stood amongst cherrytrees in a small paved area and stared up at the mighty walls. Leigh unslunghis camera and took more photographs of me. I smiled but he shook his head so Itried to recapture the mood of the music and he nodded his approval.He returned for my hand. 'Hungry?'I was.'Food.'We walked hand in hand from that wonder, carryingthe memory inside us, and, making for the river, started the mundane butexciting search for lunch.
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You've come this far, soit's unlikely you'll stop now. But, just in case you're impatient for the nextchapter, you know where you can buy the book.
Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
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Can Humans See Nudity in Art as Purely Aesthetic?

Image via Wikipedia
If you're coy, or easilyembarrassed, put on your dark glasses whilst you read this. And make sure yourmaiden aunt is out of the room. Don't want to make her blush, do we?I'm interested inexploring our attitudes to nudity, especially as it applies to art; art of alltypes, whether that's painting, sculpture, theatre, cinema, or literature. Thelatter, of course, is my personal concern, as a writer.
Before we look at theissue as it relates to art, we need to understand what it means in life ingeneral. It goes without saying, of course, that we're born naked. Tounderstand why there's so much guilt, embarrassment and general negativitytoward social nudity I'd need to go on for chapters. So, I've placed a potted andpersonal hypothesis at the foot of this piece, for those who are interested orcurious. But, for our current purposes, it's enough to accept that nudity is asubject cloaked in secrecy, guilt, excitement, passion, disgust, admiration,lust and hypocrisy.
Because this natural statehas developed associations that are so unnatural, writers and artists have hadto approach it with a full awareness of the contemporary spread of attitudes.In earlier times it was a little easier, since the majority of educated people,those who'd come into contact with works of art portraying nudity, were alsosubject to the thinking imposed by the moral authority of the church, synagogueor mosque. I exclude the eastern religions, as they have generally displayed amuch more enlightened and liberal attitude to the subject.
In our currentmulti-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-ethical society in the West, the situationis fraught with danger. On the one hand, the extreme sects of the Abrahamicreligions universally condemn public nakedness, probably for the reasonsexplained below. But, on the other, those individuals and groups who areliberal in thought positively embrace nudity as a desirable state both publiclyand privately.
When portraying the humanbody in its natural state we, as artists, are forced to consider the possibleattitudes of those we hope to entertain, educate, impress or arouse. Visualartists are constrained more by simple taste and the likely location of theirworks than by other considerations. So, it's fine to portray the full frontal displayif it's confined to the art gallery, where people go by choice and must knowthat they may be faced with such sights.
'I tell you, Ethel. Shewas showing everything. And I do mean everything. I mean, I didn't know whereto look!' 'I bet Bert knew where tolook, though, Gloria, didn't he?' 'Certainly did. I hauledhim out of there as quick as I could.'
However, if a pictorial orplastic portrayal is to be on general public view in the street or similarlocation, the display is normally neutered to some extent. Erect penises andhairless and/or detailed vulva are generally frowned on and therefore avoided.And, in advertising, the airbrush becomes the weapon of choice against truth.
In writing, we have thedouble-edged benefit of the genre and the sub-genre. If we want to indulge in sexualfantasy, we can do so with little restriction under the umbrella of 'erotica'.That's fine. But what about the serious writer who wants to portray the naturalin a work of a more literary nature? That it can be done and even appreciatedis demonstrated by the successful publication of such works as Lawrence's 'LadyChatterley's Lover'. Though even such well-established works as this arevilified, banned, and even burned in some of the more extreme communities.
What is difficult, is theportrayal of nudity devoid of sex, though not of gender. It's as if the veryintroduction of nudity is considered a preparation for sex. So, the heroine whonaturally chooses to do her housework free of the encumbrance of clothing is inevitably,in the minds of most readers, prepared and ready for a sexual encounter, eitheralone or with some expected partner. The man who prefers to swim naked in theprivate lake is subject, in the minds of the readers, to some expected sexualact yet to be described. In writing, as in life, it's almost impossible toremove the general association between nudity and sex.
I started this featurewith the question: 'Can humans see nudity in art as purely aesthetic?' Myconclusion is that, in most cases, the answer is 'No', which is a shame. Thehuman body is possibly the most beautiful living form in existence. Of course,as a human, I'm biased in favour of the human form, and in particular, as aman, of the female human form. That's a biological essential. Does that mean,however, I'm incapable of appreciating that form without the association of thepossibility of sexual activity with it? Does it mean I look at a picture of anaked woman and always wish to have sex with her? If I study a piece of sculptuream I seeking a way to enter it? As a woman, is it possible to watch a nude mandance or exercise and see him only as a beautiful form? To what extent aredesire and arousal associated with nudity? Is the association inevitable?
I suppose, what I'm tryingto discover is whether it's possible for us to view or read about nudity from aneutral position in which sexual interest plays no part. And the answer appearsto be that we are hard-wired to associate nudity with sex. There areexceptions, of course. To the normal mind, for instance, the nude child,corpse, and victim of torture or rape, all evoke emotions far away from sexualdesire. To the heterosexual, nude depictions of the same gender can be vieweddispassionately and to those who love the same gender, the nude of the oppositeis something devoid of sexual attraction.
So, if I want to make myheroine both attractive and nude, I must accept that she will be viewed in asexual manner, even when that aspect isn't intended. I must be aware that mymale nude hero will excite female, and some male, readers in ways notnecessarily meant. This natural response therefore challenges the writer toportray such characters with care if they are to convey the image intended. Itmakes the process more demanding and difficult. Perhaps that's why so fewwriters are willing to step into this territory, or to turn all nudity intoeroticism. It's a shame, but it seems inevitable.
Why my interest? Well, I'mwriting an epic fantasy set in an invented land with invented history andcustoms. For reasons too complex to discuss here, I've made the major religionof that land one where worship and nudity go hand in hand. It's been difficultto convey the necessary spiritual aspect without unintentionally causing somelevel of sexual arousal in my readers. But it looks as though I'll have tosimply accept that such is inevitable and make the best of it.
I'd appreciate any inputfrom my readers here. Suggestions, ideas, arguments are all welcome.
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My View of How Nudity Became Associated with Guilt and Sex.
The vast majority ofindigenous peoples living in the tropics when first discovered by westernexplorers, lived as naked tribes, though some wore minimal cover. Those of usborn in less friendly climates initially took to clothing as protection againstthe cold, since our skin no longer bore the hair of our earlier ancestors.There are different theories as to how we became the naked ape, and I'm notintending to discuss those here but I'll point you in the direction of The Descent of Woman, by Elaine Morgan,for one of the more credible explanations. (Fora review of this excellent text follow this link). The simple fact,however, that we were and are, to all intents and purposes, hairless made clothinga necessity for survival.
It's likely that twodifferent, though related, causes made us consider nakedness in public a badthing. As long as we lived in small tribes that were extended families, sexualavailability and display of gender were no problem. Once, however, we began toorganise into larger communities, constant nakedness, with it's inevitableconsequence of stimulus and availability, made some sort of cover essential.Otherwise people would be at it all the time, no work would get done and thewomen would be perpetually pregnant. At about the same time as largercommunities developed, so also, as a consequence, the social contract began tobe formed in a rudimentary way. Those who laboured to provide food, huntingweapons and other social needs, were defended by others who formed protectionagainst the raids of other similar communities.
Thus, in a nutshell, wasformed the basis of modern society, with leaders overseeing producers. That itall got considerably out of hand early on is a matter for a differentdiscussion. However, as a consequence of their positions of power and all thebenefits that brought, leaders needed some device to stop workers fromrebelling. Thus religion came about. Early religion was cleverly combined withwhat were, at the time, plausible answers to otherwise unfathomable mysteries.Leaders formed associations between the powers of their gods, the invented afterlife,and behaviour in everyday life as a means of controlling their people.In the early Abrahamicreligions that now rule over most of the world the concept of guilt wasintroduced as a means of controlling a subjugated and resentful population. Itwas a convenient way of making those who served into a flock that was, to someextent, self-governing. Introduce the idea that selfish and anti-social actionswill eventually result in an eternal afterlife spent feeding the flames of somesort of hell and you have a powerful tool of control.
Once guilt was established,it was a relatively simple matter, using fear and ignorance, to persuade peoplethat reward was a divine matter used to benefit goodness, whilst punishment wasreserved for those who were bad. However, it suited those in control to determinewhat was perceived as good and bad. It also suited them to have degrees of suchqualities determined by the individual's position in the hierarchy that was thenatural outcome of developing society.
So it was that a naturalstate, nakedness, became frowned on in public, even though such nakedness mightbe beneficial for reasons entirely separate from sexual activity. Manyactivities are actually easier whilst unencumbered by clothing; Labouring inthe tropics and fishing in the shallows are obvious examples. And therelatively recent introduction of special clothing to cover us whilst we swimis a natural progression of the guilt theme.
Having established controlthrough guilt, the leaders then discovered that they'd shot themselves in thefeet. Nudity is the preferred state for sexual activity. Sexual activity is enhancedby power, which we all know acts as an aphrodisiac (in itself a matter fraughtwith questions). So, leaders were now in a state where they'd made clothingessential, even in places where it was really unnecessary. But they wished tohave their women (by this time it was almost exclusively men who were in power,of course) naked and available for sex. Thus came about the introduction ofrevealing wear, especially for women, in those situations where it waspermitted. Not because women necessarily wished to be on display but becausetheir men required it.
The nature of the guiltassociation allowed the hypocrisy of partial cover to become an acceptablealternative to nudity. Partial cover, with its promise of the hidden and itsdrawing of the eye to the most sexually attractive parts, became more alluringthan actual nudity, for many men. Clothes for women, initially, and morerecently for men, except when there's a deliberate intention to make them plainand unattractive, are designed to draw the eye of the opposite gender. This isthe hypocrisy of guilt born of religion. In hiding the sexual attractiveness ofthe naked genders, those in power devised a system where the clothed gendersare, if anything, considered even more attractive.
Many of you, especiallythose with religious sympathies, will utterly disagree with what I've saidhere. Of course you will: you've been indoctrinated from birth by ideas thatare now so ingrained that they're integral to your being. But a logicalexamination of the reality must conclude that what I've suggested as thedevelopment of sexual guilt as a socially protective device imposed for reasonsof power is at least as credible as any other theory. The topic needs a fulllength book to develop properly, but those with open minds will understand mydrift.####
Another silly questionfor you to ponder: He's been in the jungle all his life, so why doesn't Tarzanhave a beard?

Zemanta User, Interviewed.

If you're unfamiliar with Zemanta, let me explain that it's an add-on available for blogs, websites and emails, that selects relevant associated articles and pictures to enliven your content. I was recently interviewed by the providers. Here's a link to the interview: http://www.zemanta.com/blog/zemanta-power-user-stuart-aken-2/
 And, for evidence of the sort of help it can give, just scan through some of my posts. I use my own photos for some but Zemanta has provided others and many links to articles relevant to my topics and content. Certainly worth investigating if you're a blogger, website owner or send emails that might be enhanced.

Sylvia L. Ramsey, Interviewed.

Regular visitors will know that I ran a series of interviews on this blog, mostly with indie authors, and that, after 110 of these, I decided to give the series a rest. I haven't changed my mind, yet. But Sylvia's book is an exception because all proceeds are to go to charity and I support such generosity. So, here goes:
HiSylvia. I last interviewedyou in January 2011, and you'd already published a number of books and hadnumerous short stories and poems appear in various literary journals. I gatheryou've a new book coming out. Would you tell us something about it, please?
Hello Stuart.  Yes, I have a new book, Traveling a Rocky Roadwith Love, Faith and Guts. It is my fourth book,  and it was just released a couple of weeksago. My newest book is a memoir, Traveling a Rocky Road with Love, Faith and Guts, wasinspired by a young man that has some very serious heart problems, and all thepeople I have met over the years as a teacher, mentor and a bladder cancersurvivor. I have tried my best to encourage them, and to give them hope. To notgive up on themselves or life. As I have traveled along life's highway, I keeprunning into people who have let the rocks that have been thrown in theirlife's road giving up on themselves, or life in general. The truth is that lifeis harsh, and it is not like the movies that give a false impression that it issmooth sailing. Being the hero that toughs it out and keeps on regardless ofthe situation is difficult, but with faith, it can be accomplished. It oftentakes a backbone, humor and a wishbone to survive it all.
Because of this, I decided to writea book to share my life's experiences so that it may inspire someone to comeback fighting when life knocks them down. The book is a journey though timefrom childhood to mature adulthood. The stories and poems in this book reflectthe lows and highs of life. The loving memories, the hardships and the thingswe learn as we travel the road of life. It covers an abusive mother who hadmental problems because of being abused as a child, childhood polio, a rockymarriage with a husband who was often abusive, the role of caregiving, deathand grief, coping with bladder cancer, asthma, losing a home and more.Therefore, to not to scare you off with gloom and doom, there are funny storiesalong the way and an ending that I never dreamed would happen. My hope is thatthe book will bring about understanding to others, and be inspiring to evenmore. Our journey in life has a purpose, finding it is often the most difficulttask of all.
You'vehad a number of serious problems to cope with in life; one of your supportsthrough all this has been something you call 'faith'. As you know, I have a deeppersonal distrust of religious faith. Would you describe what you mean by'faith'?
Regardless of what you believe or do not believe asfar as "religious" faith is concerned, you must have faith inyourself that you can somehow overcome the various things that happen in life. Somecall it perseverance and determination to not allow these things to conqueryour spirit. I try never to use the word can't. I prefer to use the words: Imay not know how, but I can learn. I will try, I may not be the absolute bestat whatever it is...but I will try to do and be the best that is possible forme. Who knows what your best is unless you keep on trying. Giving up alwaysequals failure. 
We'vehad similar responses, in one regard, to health issues that have come our way.In your case, research into bladder cancer has benefitted by your activesupport. I've done what I can for ME/CFS research in my quiet way. What drivesyou to continue with this support?
I know how important support is from others who havetraveled the same road. Bladder cancer is one that has little in spite of thefact that it ranked 5th in prevalence. I have made it a personal goal for thepast fifteen years to do my best to change this. When I speak with people whohave just been diagnosed, I can hear the fear in their voices. They needsomeone to talk to that has experienced the same thing. They need someone to beable to talk to about their situation who understands. That was not availablewhen I was diagnosed, or when I had my radical cystcectomy. Therefore, Idecided to do what I had been taught as a child by my father: "I may notbe able to do everything, but I can do something."
Thereare many ways in which individuals respond to adversity. Some fight, becomingaggressive and loud, some give up and succumb to whatever ails them, otherstake up the challenge in a more thoughtful and positive way. What do you thinkmakes you respond so positively to the hardships that life's thrown your way?
I had two of the best role models, one was my fatherand the other was my grandmother. Another thing was my experience with polio atthe age of four, and the time I spent in the hospital in a large ward withabout sixteen other children. My bed was across from a little girl who had beenin a fire, and her body was burned so badly. She never spoke the entire time Iwas there. There were only occasional moans. There were so many children therethat were much worse off than me, that I could not feel sorry for myself. Iwanted to get well and help others even at that time. I heard about the RedCross and their drive to make people aware of polio. I started by helping tocollect money for this cause as soon as I was able. I was one of the posterchildren. I talk about all this in my book.
Sofar, we've talked about you as the person. I'd like to know a little more aboutyou as a writer. What made you decide to write, as opposed to any othercreative activity?
Actually, writing isn'tthe only creative activity I indulge in, I also paint and sculpt. I love allthe arts, and have participated in them. I directed a theatre program forsixteen years. I taught art and theatre courses. As far as my writing goes,that began when I was nine-years-old. I began writing news and feature articles for a small townnewspaper in Southeast Missouri at the age of nine. Because of the nurturingand encouragement by the news editor, I developed a love and a need to write.By the time I was working on my graduate degree, several ofmy poems, short stories and feature articles had been published. Since thattime, over one hundred of my short stories and poems have found their way intoliterary magazines. I have been a featured poet in several literary journalsover the years.
Doyou have a favourite author? If so, who is it and what attracts you to theirwork?
That is a difficult question to answer because Ihave favorites in a variety of genre. In poetry, there are three, Frost,Millay, and a poem by Brecht, "To Posterity". Shakespeare's,  "King Lear" is one of my favoriteplays. I read a lot of different types of books, and genre...so, it is ananswer I do not have.
Doyou have any advice for beginners in the field?
Keep writing, get as much feedback as you can get.Write enough to find your own voice. Listen to the feedback you get, but do notlose your voice. It is sometimes like painting, you may paint 60 or even a 100before you get a good one. 
Somany would-be writers have taken advantage of the ready availability of digitalself-publishing, without first learning how to actually write. Have youanything to say about the proliferation of badly-written indie books?
I think this is something that comes with theterritory of the new era. It can be unfortunate for the readers, and the goodauthors. Here again, I feel that before one publishes any work one needs somegood critiques and to polish their work. 
Whenwriting this particular book, how did you go about the actual process?I was inspired to write this book because of seeingothers give up on themselves, rather than do what was necessary to succeed. Ibegan to write a rough draft lay-out of what I wanted to say, or put in thebook. Then I wrote a draft of the book that was fairly brief. Before Icontinued, I asked a friend who is a professional writer to read it and tell meif I were wasting my time. He knows I respect his opinion, and I know he wouldbe honest in his responses. I had my doubts because writing a memoir is sopersonal, and I really did not know if it would be something others would wantto read. He liked where I was going with the book and encouraged me tocontinue. He, also, made suggestions that were a great help in how I developedthe book. I began writing it once more. He read it again, and offered moresuggestions. I did a re-write and added more. At that point, I was ready to getit proofed, and the next step what to make the required corrections. I wasready to make a decision on what to do with it. I weighed my options, anddecided that since the proceeds from the book sales were going to the AmericanBladder Cancer Society plus I would have to market the book anyway toself-publish it.
You can find out more about me andor purchase the book at:Purchasethe book:Inthe United States:http://www.amazon.com/Sylvia-L-Ramsey/e/B002BMJ5NI/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1326569308&sr=1-Inthe UK:http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=sr_gnr_aps?rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Asylvia+l.+ramsey&keywords=sylvia+l.+ramsey&ie=UTF8&qid=1331910631
Website:http://www.authorsden.com/visit/author.asp?authorid=140046Blog:http://love-faith-and-guts.blogspot.com/TheAmerican Bladder Cancer Societyhttps://www.bladdercancersupport.org

Is Piracy Just a Form of Petty Theft?

Image via Wikipedia
Honest Questions From a Simple Man.
This discussion follows on from last week's debateabout honesty. Here's the link, if you want to visit that first: http://stuartaken.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/is-copying-same-as-theft.html.
Theo: We'd reached the conclusion that you'd beprepared to pay what you saw as a reasonable amount for things like CDs, DVDsand books. But that it was acceptable to steal these objects if they wereoverpriced.
Dave: I wouldn't put it like that.
Theo: How would you put it?
Dave: Look, if you feel you're being ripped off,especially by a big organisation, you want to get your own back. It's natural,isn't it?
Theo: So, what you're saying is that theft of smallitems from large organisations that overcharge for the goods is a legitimateactivity?
Dave: Except I wouldn't call it theft.
Theo: So, we're looking at semantics here, are we?
Dave: No. That's just playing with words.
Theo: Well, I'm trying to understand. Tell me whatyou'd call it, then we can move on.
Dave: It's redistribution, isn't it? Like RobinHood. He stole from the rich and gave it to the poor.
Theo: It's interesting that you still use the term'stole' here but seem reluctant to use the same word for what we're discussing.
Dave: Yeah, well he redistributed wealth by taking thingsfrom the rich and giving them to the poor.
Theo: And these things he took were essential to thewelfare of those he gave them to?
Dave: It was money mostly, and jewellery they couldsell. Hell, these people were starving and the fat cats were taking more andmore in taxes from them, so they could live in luxury.
Theo: So, this mythical act of redistribution was todo with inequality in society, where the differential in wealth was so greatthat those on the bottom were starving and those at the top were living livesof excess?
Dave: That's right. Social engineering, they callit.
Theo: Okay. I can see the justice and fairness insuch a scheme. When authority won't do a job for society, society needs to dothe job itself. And that seems perfectly fine when we're talking of thenecessities of life. It starts to seem like envy, however, if we apply the samerule to things that aren't essential. We all need food, heat, shelter, etc., tolive a reasonable life. But we don't actually 'need' the items we've been discussing.These things are extras; 'wants' rather than 'needs'. Would you agree?
Dave: If you put it like that…
Theo: Your argument is based on price, which you seeas unfair. If we extend it logically, you could use the same argument to justifystealing someone's Lamborghini, because it's an expensive car as opposed youyour own hatchback. Would you steal a car for that reason?
Dave: Of course not.
Theo: So, we come back to where you set the levelfor what you see as acceptable taking without paying. And I think we've alreadycovered that ground and found that it's a subjective decision based on personaljudgements about the perceived value of the object coupled with personalincome. So, a book sold for £10.00 ($15.84) might be okay for many people butone sold for £20.00 ($31.68), especially in digital form, might be consideredoverpriced?
Dave: Like I said, it's a rip off. It costs almostnothing to produce a digital book, once the thing's been written.
Theo: Again, that's a subjective judgement. And, inany case, you're not paying only for the object itself, but for the time ittakes for that object to be created. Let me tell you about writing as aprofession. The average novel in the UK sells fewer than 2,000 copies. Theauthor gets around 10% in royalties. That means that for a book that sells for £10.00,the author might make a total of £2,000.00. Most novels take around one to twoyears to complete. That's just for the actual writing. Of course, the processstarts a long time before the writing does, since a novel is often thecondensation of a lifetime's experiences. I have to ask whether you'd beprepared to have your time valued at the pittance the author receives. I mean,do the maths. I think you'll find that this overpaid artist is getting lessthan £1.00 ($1.58) per hour for his time. Not what I'd call a huge return,would you? Even the book priced at £20.00 earns him only £2.00 ($3.17) perhour.
Dave: Well, what about authors like J.K.Rowling;they earn millions.
Theo: For every best-seller, there are thousands whosell only a few hundred copies, if they're lucky.
Dave: They should write better books, then.
Theo: You'd like your choice to be reduced to onlythose books that everyone wants to read? You'd like a diet of the same all the time,would you? Just because something isn't as popular as something else, itdoesn't render it less valuable, just less marketable, which is a differentthing. We all have, amongst our collections, works by what are called 'niche'artists, and they often prove to be our favourite pieces, even though they'venever reached the notice of the more general population.
Dave: As long as it's easy to copy digital stuff,it'll be copied without paying for it.
Theo: So, because it's possible, it's acceptable, isit?
Dave: It's going to happen. Get used to it.
Theo: It's possible to kill with a knife. Does thatmake murder acceptable? It's possible to duplicate almost everything withmodern technology. Piracy exists across the board in manufactured goods.Usually the pirated goods are made by what amounts to slave labour indeveloping countries and the industry often supports terrorists and criminalgangs. The attitude that piracy is not only acceptable but should be encouragedis responsible for financing the worst type of criminal and terrorist activity.That must make the purchasers of such goods so proud.
Dave: That's not the same thing.
Theo: Looks very much like it to me. And what arethe consequences of pirating on those who produce the original works? Thereally talented, the brightest stars, will find different fields, somewherethey can operate and be properly paid for their efforts and the original fieldwill be impoverished as a result. Simply because some people are unwilling topay a reasonable price for something because they perceive it as being tooexpensive when provided in a digital medium, which they can easily access. Theargument that it's easy to make and reproduce isn't a justification for theft.Any more than the profiteering by the industry giants is justified. What weneed is a more mature and honest appraisal of the reality of the situation. Weneed the pirates to be honest about their activities, to accept that they'retaking the bread from the mouths of those who create. And we need the largedistributors to accept that they must re-examine their attitude to the sale ofsuch items. But, in the meantime, the people who suffer as a result of theactions of both sides are the creators of the very things that both sidesvalue. Doesn't look like justice or fairness to me, and those amongst thepiracy clan who claim to be doing society a favour should perhaps examine theirmotives a little more closely, don't you think?
Dave: So you're saying I should pay for every CD,DVD or book I want?
Theo: It's always all or nothing, isn't it? How abouta compromise? We all share things we enjoy, and that's a great thing. No authorminds his readers lending or even giving away the books they've bought tofriends, etc. No author objects to the resale of second hand books. This is allperfectly normal. What isn't acceptable is the mass sharing and redistributionof free copies on those file-sharing sites that enable such activity. On thatlevel, the whole idea of sharing simply becomes mass theft. You'd be perfectlyhappy to share your evening meal with a friend or two who popped inunexpectedly, but you'd be a little miffed if the whole neighbourhood suddenlydescended on you and expected to be fed, wouldn't you? That's the differencebetween personal sharing and the sharing that happens in the digitalfile-sharing community. And, no matter how they dress it up, how they distortthe reality to justify their activities, they are acting as thieves andstealing from the very people whose work they admire and desire. No matter howyou dress it up; taking something that's offered for sale and not paying for itis theft.
Dave; You're a hard man, Theo.
Theo: I hope I'm simply a fair man, Dave. Fair andhonest.
What do you think? I'd value your opinions. I'vebeen involved in discussions like this with those who think they're some sort oflatter day Robin Hoods. Here's a link to one such discussion, if you'reinterested in further thoughts from both sides of the argument: http://digg.com/newsbar/topnews/american_isps_to_launch_massive_copyright_spying_scheme_on_july_12_the_raw_story
This is the last in the current series of ethicaldiscussions, as they're too time-consuming to allow me to do the real work ofwriting. But I intend to return to the idea in the future. Let me know what youthink. I really do value your input and ideas.

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 10.

If you've come this far, youdon't need me blathering on with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.
But, if you missed thestart, here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Chapter 1 appeared on 13January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via thearchive.
Read, enjoy, invite yourfriends.
Chapter 10
When she first came intomy life, Faith was just a rather idiosyncratic young woman with only thecheapness of her labour and her excellent office skills to commend her. She waspretty in a waifish way but not the sort of woman I sought. But, then, there werethose eyes and her baffling innocence.Over the few weeks she'd worked for me, she'dlearned rapidly and well. She quickly took all the finishing tasks out of myown and Merv's hands. She organized the office and me so efficiently that Inever missed an appointment or ran out of stock and, if I couldn't find an itemof equipment, she always knew where it was.But there was more than work to Faith. Hercuriosity, once beyond her father's boundaries, was endless. She was so eagerto learn about everything, it was like having a bright, attractive andwell-behaved child about the house. She read voraciously; respondingenthusiastically to my invitation to use the library, which Uncle Fred and Ihad spent much time, energy and money in stocking with a broad-based selectionof books.She'd grown in confidence and this was reflectedin the way she now held herself. No longer the round shoulders and stoopingwalk, no longer the shuffle of shame. She was upright and open. Her face hadtaken on a semi-permanent half smile, as if she was pleased with everything shesaw. And this smile lightened her face and brought a sparkle to those gloriouseyes that were so deep I feared I might drown in them. She'd started to put onweight now she was no longer walking miles every day. And the new flesh wasdistributing itself with real promise. She was on the way to becoming a veryattractive woman.Her dowdy clothes I now knew she wore not fromchoice but the meanness of Heacham. The trip to York gave me an excuse to dosomething about that by introducing her to the pleasures of buying and wearingfashionable clothes.As we left the car park and set off down the broadpath beside the river, she was alive with interest, keen to notice everythingabout her. I wanted to take her hand, to be in contact with this strange,captivating young woman. It just seemed right. She would reject such intimacy,regardless of how innocent it might be. The irony amused me: I'd shared muchgreater intimacy with so many women without fear of rejection.'Why the smile?''I'd like to hold your hand and I was wonderingwhy I find it so difficult to ask you, when I've touched every naked inch of somany women.''Why?'No reference to my inexplicable difficulty, noargument or condemnation regarding the other women. Just a simple demand toknow my reason for wanting to hold her hand; the very aspect of the situation Ifound most difficult to understand myself.'I don't know. It seems the natural thing to dowith you.''You're being remarkably honest, Leigh.''Perhaps you're rubbing off on me.''Careful. Honesty can be dangerous.''Now you're teasing me.''I'm not sure about the hands. It sounds harmlessenough and I expect I'd enjoy it. Let me see if I can tell what that sort ofcontact means in society.''Are you always so analytical before you makecontact? It'd be hard bloody work making love with you if you are.' I'd said itwithout thinking, without knowing I thought it. That I spoke in terms of makinglove rather than having sex was disturbing.'If analysis will save me from your rapaciousintent, Leighton Longshaw, I'll use it for the foreseeable future.'There was no malice, no blame in her response, butshe meant it and I knew I'd blown my chance for now.We reached Lendall Bridge and climbed the flaggedslope to reach the road. I took her to a café I'd visited previously and chosea window seat so she could watch the people go by. The waitress was new, fromthe uni, but one of my previous conquests tipped her off and she smiled awelcome as she brought the menu. I gave her the benefit of an encouraging smilebefore turning my attention to Faith and the list of items on the printed card.We ordered my cappuccino and Faith's Yorkshire teaand, after my reminder that she had agreed to be treated, a cream cake each.The waitress was positively coquettish as she took the order, her gentian eyesfinding mine and remaining locked there. I watched her glide across the flooron shapely pins encased in sheer black nylon and automatically assessed herpotential as a model.Faith was absorbed in the doings of the variouspeople both inside and outside the café and was unaware of the exchange betweenthe waitress and me. She was happy observing the activity and I felt slightlyput out by her lack of attention to me.We drank and ate in companionable silence, Faith'sonly comment that the tea was good and the cream cake delicious. Another firstfor her; one of many that day.When the waitress brought the bill, she was sointent on me, she failed to notice the slip of paper drifting from her saucer.It floated to the floor where Faith picked it up. Before I could stop her,she'd unfolded it.'This can't be right! That's far too much for twodrinks and two cakes!'The waitress was startled out of her reverie anddetached herself from my eyes to glare at Faith. My hand hid the smile as Igently took the bill. I topped the cash on the saucer with one of my specialbusiness cards bearing a brief message inviting contact, if desired, as I feltthe recipient had potential for modelling. She glanced at the card and nodded.As I steered Faith from the café, the other diners followed our exit with facesfull of surprise or scorn.'My fault, Faith. I forget just how little youknow about society and shopping. The price was fine. We could've gone somewherecheaper but the tea and coffee would've been poor and the cakes wouldn't havebeen half as nice.''I bet the waitresses wouldn't be so pretty orliberated either. You could see their breasts through their blouses.''Could you? I never noticed…''Of course you didn't, Leigh.'I gave her my wounded look but she saw throughthat so I grinned and shrugged. 'A word of advice, though. It's not English tocomplain loudly in public. We don't do it. We call this cowardice "reserve" andthe rest of the world expects it of us, which is why we are so surprisingoverseas, where we complain loudly about everything and nothing. So, for today,I'd prefer you not to voice your opinions on cost, and any other contentiousmatters, until we've left the shop. Okay?''I'm your willing and obedient servant, LeightonLongshaw.''That'll be the day. Come on, little MissOutspoken, let's find that typewriter. Then I'm going to do some seriousspoiling.' 'Aren't things that are spoilt, ruined?''You need spoiling. Time you had a bit ofunbridled pleasure and fun.' I made the comment in jest, of course, but Faithconsidered it with real seriousness.'Perhaps you're right, Leigh. Perhaps I ought toindulge a little, if only so I've a better idea of what I'm talking about whenI criticize it in others.'I cupped her elbow and steered her into the officesupplies shop without a word. For all that I understood how she could say sucha thing, I couldn't trust myself to reply generously to a comment like that.

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You've come this far, so it'sunlikely you'll stop now. But, just in case you're impatient for the nextchapter, you know where you can buy the book.
Web site: http://stuartaken.co.uk
Tweet with me: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAken

7 Ways to Improve Your Grammar and Impress Readers.

Cover via Amazon
Some aspects of Englishgrammar create more confusion and resultant errors than others. I get far toohet up about them. But, there you are; I guess I care a little too much aboutthe way writer's constantly break rules they often don't appear to know exist. However,in common with George Orwell, I'd rather all the rules were broken than have toendure an ugly sentence. But, in order to break rules effectively, you have toknow what they are.So, here's a list of sevenof the most common errors and some suggested solutions.
1.      Contractions.
We all speak using contractions. But when we write them down, they seem tocause problems. Here are some of the common pitfalls.
They're, you're, we're; all contractions of the pronoun used with 'are'. So, they are becomes they're, etc. The most common error occurs when your, the possessive pronoun, issubstituted for you're, thecontraction. The only sensible way to avoid the error is to write out themeaning in full and then apply the contraction if it's appropriate.Example:  This is a chance to improve your writing. Here, your refers to the writing and thecontext makes it plain that it is the writing that belongs to you. Thepossessive pronoun is therefore the correct usage. However; If you're going to improve the way youwrite, you need to be aware of how grammar works. Here, you're can be replaced by you are, so the contraction is thecorrect form. If your were used, itwould make no sense, since there's nothing belonging to anyone in the sentence.

2.      Homonyms.
This leads quite naturally onto the homonyms, those words that sound alike buthave different spellings and/or different meanings. We've looked at your and you're but there are many examples in English and they confuse eventhose raised with the language, so it's hardly a surprise if foreign languagespeakers have problems.
They're, their, there; we're, wear, where, were; bow(bend from the waist),bough; buy, by, bye; row (a boat), roe; tyre, tire; tear (cry), tier; peer,pier; pear, pair; stare, stair. A non-comprehensive list of some commonhomonyms. These won't be picked up by your spell-checker, because the spellingis correct. Only you, as the writer, can determine whether you've used theright word, though. And, if in doubt, please resort to that invaluable tool ofthe author; a reference book called a 'dictionary'. And, as a means of gettingthose of you who rarely open this writers' bible to do just that, I'm not goingto provide further help here on this one.

3.      Apostrophe's'.
Lynn Truss wrote a wonderful short book on this, and other, grammaticalpitfalls. If you haven't read 'Eats Shoots and Leaves', shame on you.
The apostrophe 's' identifies the word as a possessive and is often confusedwith the plural form. So we have the field-side signs inviting the driver to 'Stop and Pick Your Own Potatoe's'.Generally, it's not clear which of the potatoe'sbelongings we're being invited to choose. That's because it's a simpleplural and the apostrophe is redundant, incorrect, wrong, unnecessary andgenerally no more than the product of a confused and ill-educated mind.
It's not helpful that such worthy stores as Waterstone's, a chain of shopsselling books for heaven's sake, decided to ditch the apostrophe in their name.Why? It hardly causes confusion or extra work for the sign-writer.
Please remember to ask yourself the question, when unsure about the insertionof an apostrophe: 'Does this word indicate the ownership of something(apostrophe) or is it simply stating the plural case (no apostrophe). Reallyquite simple, you see?

4.      Tenses.
I can get quite tense about tenses. Even journalists, particularly TVreporters, can mix these up and it really sets my teeth on edge. Reports tellus that '…the injured player was took offthe pitch.' We all know, don't we, that it's '...the injured player was taken off…'? It's not difficult; or,perhaps it is, is it? And then there's the wonderful, '…all thought the boy done good.' What? Surely, even the most basicEnglish education explains that we should say, '…all thought the boy had done well.' or, '…all thought the boy did well,' or, perhaps, '…the boy did a good job.' doesn't it? And then there's theconfusion that persists about the use of such forms as 'spun/span, swum/swam, and hung/hang'. 'The spider had spun a web across the corner.' 'The car span out ofcontrol.' 'Beryl swam across the current to reach the other side.' 'Georginahas swum the Channel on three occasions.' 'I hung up my coat.' 'Will you hangup my coat, please?' But, 'The killerwas hanged for murder.'
English is noted for its irregular forms. I could go on for a very long timehere, but I don't wish to bore you. If in doubt about these things, buy, borrowor steal a copy of one of the many 'English Usage' guides. I use Fowler's, the OxfordGuide and Partridge's Usage and Abusage. All worth the few quid/dollars youneed to spend to get it right, don't you think?

5.      Pluralor Singular?
There is often some uncertainty about whether a plural or singular verb iscorrect usage in sentences where there appears to be more than one subject.e.g. Bread and water is too good for thatprisoner. I suspect most people would agree with the singular 'is' rather than the plural 'are' here, even though we have twosubjects; 'bread' and 'water'. The 'and' here engages both subjects and combines them into a singleentity that is understood by readers to be a combined subject. Therefore, thesingular form is correct. In any case, it sounds better. If you don't believeme, try reading both versions aloud and you'll see how the plural effort makesyou squirm with discomfort.
The above is one example of a long list of similar combined subjects, where twoor more terms that form the subject are, or may be, understood to be expressedas a single entity. 'Cheese and wine','short back and sides', 'rape and murder', 'love and kisses' and 'apple pie and custard' are all examplesof such combinations. When in doubt about usage, it is the meaning that shouldtake precedence over the form. Read it aloud and hear it; the correct versionshould be clear that way.
English, however, being the complex language it is, has another trick up itssleeve regarding plural and singular forms. When we write about collective orgroup nouns, the decision about whether to use them as plural or singular formsagain arises. And the solution depends on meaning. So, you might write, The gang were all at the crime scene. Whendescribing the actions of the individuals making up the group. But you'd write,The gang was first to arrive. When examiningthe action of the group as a whole.
Meaning is the paramount determiner here. I hope I've cleared rather thanmuddied the waters. But, if you're still unsure, let me recommend an excellentpiece on this in Thomas Parrish's TheGrouchy Grammarian.

6.      DanglingModifiers.What? A 'danglingmodifier' is a phrase that's intended to explain about one subject butactually relates to another entirely, or even to none at all. We've all comeacross, though hopefully not written, such sentences as; Walking into the library, Karen's list of books befuddled the girl atthe counter. Hardly surprising! The poor girl could rarely have witnessed alist of books walking at any other time. It was, of course, Karen who waswalking, not her list of books. The sentence needs to be re-writtendifferently; Walking into the library,Karen approached the girl at the counter and befuddled her with her list ofbooks. Not brilliant, but it says what it means. The opening phrase nowrelates to the rest of the sentence.
Another? Having less knowledge thanneeded, the teacher sent Jones on a course designed to increase his awarenessof the subject. One wonders why the teacher should have less knowledge thannecessary and then send the pupil away for improvement. But, of course, thewriter meant that the pupil had less knowledge and that the teacher was intenton increasing it by sending him on a course. So, the sentence would have beenbetter written as; Having less knowledgethan needed, Jones was sent on a course designed to increase his awareness ofthe subject. Of course, this sentence doesn't tell us that it was theteacher who sent Jones. But I'll leave it to you to modify the sentence or addanother, to include that aspect.
Please don't leave your modifiers dangling; someone might come along and cutthem off!

7.      Which,That or Who?
There has been, is, and will be much debate on this issue. When to use which, that or who, because, it seems, it isn't as straightforward as it mayappear. The common belief is that who isused for people and that for thingsand never vice-versa. The which questionis not commonly held to be so clear cut.
Please note; I said 'the common belief'. That doesn't make it the right one, ofcourse.
The fact is that that can be used forpeople, under certain circumstances. For instance, it's perfectly correct tosay, Of those members that were inattendance, all were in favour of the amendment. Similarly, it is fine tosay, Are you the one that said it was myfault?
However, who should be reserved onlyfor people. It's true that certain journals have, of late, allowed the use of who when referring to an animal, whose gender is known. But this isn'tgenerally accepted usage and is probably best avoided.Most commentators will agree with the above, but some willnot. Because of this, it's probably best for you to decide for yourself whichyou will use; be consistent, though. Personally, I'd avoid using who for an animal, except in the casewhere I was deliberately anthropomorphising the creature referred to. I wouldalso not use that for people, asillustrated in the sentences above. Although such usage isn't incorrect, I findit awkward and impersonal and would use whoor whom in preference.
So, to the which issue. I'll make abald statement, with which you can agree or not. Which is never, under any circumstances, used for people. The only which that refers to people is witch, which is an entirely differentaffair. Depending on the witch in question, I'd avoid the affair, unless ofcourse, the witch has placed you undera spell. Which is used exclusivelyfor inanimate objects and qualities. So, you might say, The tree, which blew down in the storm, is now dead. But you would,hopefully, never say, The robber, whichtook all your clothes, is a foul asset stripper. regardless of how youmight feel about him. You would, of course, always use who when referring to said brigand.
I could go on at length about restrictive and non-restrictive clauses, relativepronouns and other grammatical niceties, but it isn't my purpose here to gointo great depth. I'll leave that to Fowler and his ilk, to whom I refer you for such depth oftreatment. My purpose is merely to raise awareness of the issues, to point outthat there are issues and that it is incumbent on the writer who wishes to impressand learn the trade that such issues should be examined and taken seriously.

So, hopefully, I've provided you with food for thoughtand whetted your appetite for further research. If you don't own any of thegrammar guides I've mentioned, I urge you to add them to your referencelibrary.

The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud, Reviewed.

Balancing humour with the elements of a thriller is a difficult task tocarry off, but Jonathan Stroud does it with style in The Amulet of Samarkand . What's more, he does it without expletivesor sexual content, so you can happily encourage your youngsters to read thisstory. Set in England sometime in a near future, it depicts a society in whichthe rich and powerful are all magicians. Politicians, in particular, are shownto be ruthless, manipulative, selfish and totally lacking in conscience; much,in fact, the way they appear to most of us in reality. The author uses hisconsiderable writing gifts to mock the powerful and portray them as people whouse their positions to get what they want without reference to the generalpublic, who are treated with contempt by this society.The main protagonists ought to be unsympathetic characters, but thereader warms to both the young, inexperienced, clever and vengeful apprenticemagician, Nathaniel, and the wicked, conniving, powerful and devious demon,Bartimaeus, he conjours from 'the Other Place' to help him achieve hisambitions. Told from the first person, by Bartimaeus and the third personviewpoint of Nathaniel, the story develops plenty of impetus as the writertakes us into a world of ambition, greed, danger and treachery. The humour is mostly of the type that brings a smile or a nod ofadmiration, but there's also the occasional belly laugh. And, I suspect,younger readers, particularly teenage boys will find plenty that will make themlaugh out loud here.It's a well-written story, with plenty of twists and turns and buildingdrama leading to the inevitable denouement, which provides a satisfying andaction-packed climax. The characters, even the minor roles, are written with anattention that allows the reader to form empathy and develop many otheremotional responses appropriate to the different personalities.I thoroughly enjoyed this work of great imagination and I applaud theauthor's method of bringing reader's attention to the depth of corruption inpolitics without preaching or ramming messages down throats. Humour isundoubtedly the most effective tool in the satirist's armoury and Jonathan Strouduses it to great effect.I have no hesitation in recommending this damn good read to all andsundry.