Tracey Sinclair's Blog, page 5
April 3, 2017
Letter to my younger self
Who doesn’t love hindsight? I’m a big fan of science fiction, and one of my favourite tropes is ‘what if?’. What would have happened if George Bailey had never existed? What would happen if, Sliding Doors style, you made one choice instead of another, you zigged instead of zagged? So, if you had the chance to talk to your younger self, steer you on a different path or pass on hard-won wisdom, what would you say?
At first, when someone suggested this idea for her blog*, I thought the answers were obvious. Maybe for a start tell my 20-year-old self to get saving for a deposit so that, at 46, I wasn’t still living in rented accommodation. Maybe don’t blow my first year’s student grant on gigs and wine, thereby starting a lifelong relationship with debt that it took two decades to get under control. There’s probably a few guys I should have passed on, and definitely some that it took me way too long to realise were A Very Bad Idea. I REALLY should have learned before I was 40 that if shoes hurt in the shop, they’ll always hurt, and if you buy something a size too small ‘to diet into’, you might as well burn the money there and then. And if you absolutely fall for something (and it fits) you should buy it straight away: I’m still bitter about a Vivienne Westwood corset I passed on 15 years ago because it was a little out of my price range. I should have learned a lot earlier than I did that alcohol, an empty stomach and an emotional crisis is the most toxic combination in the world: for God’s sake, Younger Me, eat a sandwich before you go out.
But honestly – would I tell myself any of this? I always thought I’d like to be a homeowner, but maybe if I was, I wouldn’t have been so comfortable moving cities whenever the opportunity arose. Being crap with money without any safety net from anyone else was a hard lesson, but one worth learning and which has stood me in good stead. Being someone who has made, in her life, Many, Many Bad Choices has, I think, made me more understanding and more supportive of others, so it’s hopefully made me a better person. I’ve certainly met several interesting people along the way – some of whom I’m now good friends with, some of whom I’d hide in an open cesspit to avoid, but hey, I can’t say it’s been boring. I’m a writer, after all – at least I’m never short of material.
My life has, to a great degree, been shaped by chance, and even when it hasn’t worked out, it’s actually sort of worked out. I moved cities for love and while that didn’t end that happily, it did inspire my first novel. I’ve stumbled into jobs that I didn’t know existed till I did them, and some of them were terrible, some of them were great – but I made friends and learned things at all of them, and the worst ones actually ended up being the most useful, opening up opportunities I never would have expected. And friendships forged in fire often turn out to be the strongest.
I could have been bolder, it’s true. Younger Me would have benefited from being less crippled by self-consciousness over my class, my lack of money and polish, my belief that ‘people like me’ don’t get to be writers, don’t get to ‘do art’ – that’s for Oxbridge types with rich parents and better connections. But then maybe that anger at inequality was part of what drove me (it certainly informs my work). Without a desire to prove people wrong, would I have even bothered?
I should have asked for more help. It took me until my late thirties to realise it wasn’t a weakness not to be able to do everything myself: it’s taken a number of crises to learn to reach out when I need it, and I suspect I would have made my life a lot easier a lot earlier if I’d figured that out sooner. Like most people, I’ve made mistakes, for which I am genuinely sorry. I’ve hurt others through thoughtlessness or selfishness or sheer stupidity, and there’s a fair few moments I would erase if I got the chance. But again, maybe you need to have some things to be ashamed of, to understand what it is to be human.
So, if I had to boil it down, what would be my advice to my younger self? In the end, I don’t even need a letter – I could probably fit it on a postcard. Be bolder, take more chances, ask for help when you need it. Don’t be scared of being the first one to say sorry, and don’t hold onto a grudge. Always keep spare taxi fare home in your handbag (separate from your purse). You’re never quite as amusing as wine makes you think you are, you really don’t suit that faux-pony-skin mini-skirt no matter how much you paid for it, and you’ll eventually realise you just don’t actually like lipstick, so stop wasting all that money looking for ‘your shade’. And I hate to tell you, but you DEFINITELY should have asked out that cute doctor you had the crush on, because you’ll always regret that you didn’t. But other than that – you’re good, girl. Just keep going.
*This post was a originally written for a book blogger, who had to discontinue her blog due to personal reasons.
At first, when someone suggested this idea for her blog*, I thought the answers were obvious. Maybe for a start tell my 20-year-old self to get saving for a deposit so that, at 46, I wasn’t still living in rented accommodation. Maybe don’t blow my first year’s student grant on gigs and wine, thereby starting a lifelong relationship with debt that it took two decades to get under control. There’s probably a few guys I should have passed on, and definitely some that it took me way too long to realise were A Very Bad Idea. I REALLY should have learned before I was 40 that if shoes hurt in the shop, they’ll always hurt, and if you buy something a size too small ‘to diet into’, you might as well burn the money there and then. And if you absolutely fall for something (and it fits) you should buy it straight away: I’m still bitter about a Vivienne Westwood corset I passed on 15 years ago because it was a little out of my price range. I should have learned a lot earlier than I did that alcohol, an empty stomach and an emotional crisis is the most toxic combination in the world: for God’s sake, Younger Me, eat a sandwich before you go out.
But honestly – would I tell myself any of this? I always thought I’d like to be a homeowner, but maybe if I was, I wouldn’t have been so comfortable moving cities whenever the opportunity arose. Being crap with money without any safety net from anyone else was a hard lesson, but one worth learning and which has stood me in good stead. Being someone who has made, in her life, Many, Many Bad Choices has, I think, made me more understanding and more supportive of others, so it’s hopefully made me a better person. I’ve certainly met several interesting people along the way – some of whom I’m now good friends with, some of whom I’d hide in an open cesspit to avoid, but hey, I can’t say it’s been boring. I’m a writer, after all – at least I’m never short of material.
My life has, to a great degree, been shaped by chance, and even when it hasn’t worked out, it’s actually sort of worked out. I moved cities for love and while that didn’t end that happily, it did inspire my first novel. I’ve stumbled into jobs that I didn’t know existed till I did them, and some of them were terrible, some of them were great – but I made friends and learned things at all of them, and the worst ones actually ended up being the most useful, opening up opportunities I never would have expected. And friendships forged in fire often turn out to be the strongest.
I could have been bolder, it’s true. Younger Me would have benefited from being less crippled by self-consciousness over my class, my lack of money and polish, my belief that ‘people like me’ don’t get to be writers, don’t get to ‘do art’ – that’s for Oxbridge types with rich parents and better connections. But then maybe that anger at inequality was part of what drove me (it certainly informs my work). Without a desire to prove people wrong, would I have even bothered?
I should have asked for more help. It took me until my late thirties to realise it wasn’t a weakness not to be able to do everything myself: it’s taken a number of crises to learn to reach out when I need it, and I suspect I would have made my life a lot easier a lot earlier if I’d figured that out sooner. Like most people, I’ve made mistakes, for which I am genuinely sorry. I’ve hurt others through thoughtlessness or selfishness or sheer stupidity, and there’s a fair few moments I would erase if I got the chance. But again, maybe you need to have some things to be ashamed of, to understand what it is to be human.
So, if I had to boil it down, what would be my advice to my younger self? In the end, I don’t even need a letter – I could probably fit it on a postcard. Be bolder, take more chances, ask for help when you need it. Don’t be scared of being the first one to say sorry, and don’t hold onto a grudge. Always keep spare taxi fare home in your handbag (separate from your purse). You’re never quite as amusing as wine makes you think you are, you really don’t suit that faux-pony-skin mini-skirt no matter how much you paid for it, and you’ll eventually realise you just don’t actually like lipstick, so stop wasting all that money looking for ‘your shade’. And I hate to tell you, but you DEFINITELY should have asked out that cute doctor you had the crush on, because you’ll always regret that you didn’t. But other than that – you’re good, girl. Just keep going.
*This post was a originally written for a book blogger, who had to discontinue her blog due to personal reasons.
March 22, 2017
Goodreads giveaway
Huge thanks to everyone who entered this - the winners' copies are in the post! I enjoyed it so much I think I'll do another one for one of the other books at some stage...
March 9, 2017
International Women's Day and helping female creatives
Yesterday was International Women’s Day and I was at a bit of a loss over what to do, rather than just let the current state of the world drown me in a terrible wave of apathy and despair. I’m a freelancer so nobody would notice if I went on strike, there were no demos near me, and so instead I just went on Twitter and posted about some of the amazing women creatives I know, and encouraged others to check them out. It wasn’t much, but it felt like positive action, and I’m pleased I did it. And it made me think of the other small ways in which you can help women creatives (and entrepreneurs) in a world where it’s generally harder for them to be heard, be reviewed, be taken seriously, and yet where female voices – and diverse female voices, at that – are needed now more than ever.
So, I had some thoughts…
Free stuff to do:
Almost every artist thrives on recognition: not only does it help spread the word to potential new audiences, it makes them feel less like they are throwing their hard work into a thankless void. (Trust me, if I had a quid for every time I thought ‘what’s the point of doing this? Nobody cares!’ I would be as rich as JK Rowling). So, if you read a book or see a show you like, review it (even a one line review on Amazon or Goodreads can be really helpful), tweet about it, tell the author/creative, post a picture of it on Instagram or Facebook. Click on links to articles by female writers, including those who work outside your comfort zone – for instance, who write about race, or sexuality, or disability, or gender. The only way people get to write those articles is if people read them. If you use Twitter, talk about TV shows that feature diverse casts, that aren’t just about maverick white guys.
I’m not saying turn yourself into a constant hawker for other people’s goods, but the occasional shout out can be more effective than you think. Tell people about the stuff you like, in whatever way that works for you: it’s not nothing. It all helps.
If you can afford it:
Buy a book by a female writer, download a song by a female artist, go see a play or a movie that’s written or directed by a woman, go to a show by a female artist or photographer. Go outside your comfort zone a little: buy a book by an indie author, support an unsigned musician, read someone or go see a play or a movie about someone who is very different to you. Support diversity in art when you can, especially when it comes from under-represented sectors. Go see a poetry night or comedy show where the majority of the acts are women. Download a woman-centred podcast. Subscribe to a magazine like Bitch or Mother Jones or Mslexia. Chuck a few quid into someone’s Kickstarter or Patreon. There are loads of ways to help, and few of them cost a lot of money.
We live in a culture where people increasingly expect not to pay for art – where people are reluctant to pay £2.99 for a book but OK with spending that on a coffee – but artists can’t live on air. Support the people whose work you enjoy so they can do more of it.
Change your habits:
As someone who uses Amazon Prime for pretty much everything, I am as much – or even more – guilty of this as anyone, but I am realising that while I will never abandon the convenience of the big guys completely, it’s relatively easy to tweak your habits so that at least some of the money you would have spent anyway goes to where it makes a lot of difference. Buy your greetings cards from an Etsy seller, or at a craft fair or indie shop. Buy your coffee from a non-chain, go into an indie bookshop occasionally. Make a resolution to buy a quarter of your Christmas presents from local stores, if you are lucky enough to live in a neighbourhood that has them, or from independent sellers online if you aren’t.
Celebrate other women’s success:
Women are taught early on to compete with one another: for men, for the only available ‘female’ space in a room full of blokes, for what we are told are limited resources. (I think it was Tina Fey who told a story in her biography about another woman joining her improv group and instantly panicking that they’d be competing over getting the female roles – even though their work was improv, so they actually created the roles themselves. And one of the actresses in excellent show Brooklyn 99 – I forget whether it was Melissa Fumero or Stephanie Beatriz, and of course can’t find the bloody quote now – said at the start of the show when she found out the other actress had been hired, she was instantly worried she’d be fired, assuming there was only room for one Latina woman in any given show).
We are told, women beware women. But the dynamic is changing, and we are seeing the amazing things women can achieve if we stand together, and I’m happy to see that is spilling into wider areas than just straight up political protest.
You’re allowed to be human, of course, and have a little quiet cry if someone gets the prize you were after, the break you’ve been working for, the gig you would have died for: do that, if you need to. Then take a breath, and then wish them every success, and realise we are all better off for it.
So, I had some thoughts…
Free stuff to do:
Almost every artist thrives on recognition: not only does it help spread the word to potential new audiences, it makes them feel less like they are throwing their hard work into a thankless void. (Trust me, if I had a quid for every time I thought ‘what’s the point of doing this? Nobody cares!’ I would be as rich as JK Rowling). So, if you read a book or see a show you like, review it (even a one line review on Amazon or Goodreads can be really helpful), tweet about it, tell the author/creative, post a picture of it on Instagram or Facebook. Click on links to articles by female writers, including those who work outside your comfort zone – for instance, who write about race, or sexuality, or disability, or gender. The only way people get to write those articles is if people read them. If you use Twitter, talk about TV shows that feature diverse casts, that aren’t just about maverick white guys.
I’m not saying turn yourself into a constant hawker for other people’s goods, but the occasional shout out can be more effective than you think. Tell people about the stuff you like, in whatever way that works for you: it’s not nothing. It all helps.
If you can afford it:
Buy a book by a female writer, download a song by a female artist, go see a play or a movie that’s written or directed by a woman, go to a show by a female artist or photographer. Go outside your comfort zone a little: buy a book by an indie author, support an unsigned musician, read someone or go see a play or a movie about someone who is very different to you. Support diversity in art when you can, especially when it comes from under-represented sectors. Go see a poetry night or comedy show where the majority of the acts are women. Download a woman-centred podcast. Subscribe to a magazine like Bitch or Mother Jones or Mslexia. Chuck a few quid into someone’s Kickstarter or Patreon. There are loads of ways to help, and few of them cost a lot of money.
We live in a culture where people increasingly expect not to pay for art – where people are reluctant to pay £2.99 for a book but OK with spending that on a coffee – but artists can’t live on air. Support the people whose work you enjoy so they can do more of it.
Change your habits:
As someone who uses Amazon Prime for pretty much everything, I am as much – or even more – guilty of this as anyone, but I am realising that while I will never abandon the convenience of the big guys completely, it’s relatively easy to tweak your habits so that at least some of the money you would have spent anyway goes to where it makes a lot of difference. Buy your greetings cards from an Etsy seller, or at a craft fair or indie shop. Buy your coffee from a non-chain, go into an indie bookshop occasionally. Make a resolution to buy a quarter of your Christmas presents from local stores, if you are lucky enough to live in a neighbourhood that has them, or from independent sellers online if you aren’t.
Celebrate other women’s success:
Women are taught early on to compete with one another: for men, for the only available ‘female’ space in a room full of blokes, for what we are told are limited resources. (I think it was Tina Fey who told a story in her biography about another woman joining her improv group and instantly panicking that they’d be competing over getting the female roles – even though their work was improv, so they actually created the roles themselves. And one of the actresses in excellent show Brooklyn 99 – I forget whether it was Melissa Fumero or Stephanie Beatriz, and of course can’t find the bloody quote now – said at the start of the show when she found out the other actress had been hired, she was instantly worried she’d be fired, assuming there was only room for one Latina woman in any given show).
We are told, women beware women. But the dynamic is changing, and we are seeing the amazing things women can achieve if we stand together, and I’m happy to see that is spilling into wider areas than just straight up political protest.
You’re allowed to be human, of course, and have a little quiet cry if someone gets the prize you were after, the break you’ve been working for, the gig you would have died for: do that, if you need to. Then take a breath, and then wish them every success, and realise we are all better off for it.
February 20, 2017
New York, New York
It's hardly an original sentiment, but oh, how I love New York. There's something about the city - the energy, the pace, the people, not to mention that imitable skyline - that never fails to perk me up, and always makes me feel like I am walking around in a movie.
My story A Vampire in New York was inspired by both the city and a particularly boozy birthday night out in one of its bars, and remains one of my favourite stories to this day, in part because I can't read it without thinking fondly of old friends, albeit slightly less fondly of hangovers.
So when I was asked by Bookalicious Travel Addict to talk about the city, the only problem was I could have written a dozen posts on my favourite places, and still have more to say!
But still, if you want to see my top picks for a trip (including my favourite bookshops and cocktail bars, and books that you should read if you like Breakfast at Tiffany's) check out the post: https://bookalicious-traveladdict.blo...
My story A Vampire in New York was inspired by both the city and a particularly boozy birthday night out in one of its bars, and remains one of my favourite stories to this day, in part because I can't read it without thinking fondly of old friends, albeit slightly less fondly of hangovers.
So when I was asked by Bookalicious Travel Addict to talk about the city, the only problem was I could have written a dozen posts on my favourite places, and still have more to say!
But still, if you want to see my top picks for a trip (including my favourite bookshops and cocktail bars, and books that you should read if you like Breakfast at Tiffany's) check out the post: https://bookalicious-traveladdict.blo...
February 15, 2017
Stationery love!
Everyone who knows me knows I am mad about notebooks, so I was chuffed to be able to talk about my stationery love at Jera's Jamboree:
http://www.jerasjamboree.co.uk/2017/0...
http://www.jerasjamboree.co.uk/2017/0...
February 13, 2017
Memory Jars and Milestones
Anyone who follows my Dark Dates blog (Darkdates.org) will know that, occasionally, it veers into the personal – how can a blog about writing not be? – and that the last few years have been very up and down for me. A lot of good things, yes, but some pretty spectacular lows. I’ve written about these before, and included what I hope were helpful coping strategies, so I thought I’d share another one, that I posted on Facebook this week and got a lot of response to.
One of the things about going through a bad patch – or even being more generally prone to anxiety, worry or stress – is you tend to focus more on what’s going wrong (or what could go wrong) and forget all the good things that have happened. So a while back, I read about the idea of a Memory Jar in some self-help post and, having voiced that it seemed like a good idea, one of my friends bought me a lovely, hand painted glass mason jar. The original idea was that whenever something good happens, you write it down and put it in the memory jar, and on New Year’s Eve, you empty the jar and read all the good things that happened during the year. I've since seen this mentioned by authors such as Pam Grout and Elizabeth Gilbert, both of whom suggest not waiting for something good to happen, but every day putting something in the jar - the best thing that happened to you today, even if it was tiny! (You can play around with how you do it to see what works best for you: as with anything like this, you need to find what feels right or you just won't stick with it).
Although I’ve altered that slightly (I have better things to do on NYE*, and the jar, happily, fills up so quickly it wouldn’t last a year), I’ve started doing this myself, and found it serves several purposes.
One, it makes you pay attention to the good things – you’re looking for something to write, even something as small as a free cup of coffee, or a fun night out with a friend – so that attunes you to be more grateful, and to focus on positives.
Two, reading them all out when you empty the jar really does give you a nice warm glow.
But what perhaps surprised me most was that the jar itself serves as an ongoing reminder that Not Everything is Shit. Even if I’ve had a bad week, I go into the kitchen and I see that there’s paper in the jar, and even if I can’t, at that moment, recall anything to be pleased or grateful about, I can see that, unarguably, there were things I was pleased about not that long ago. If you respond to visual prompts, it’s especially useful.
(Also, while I don’t have kids so wouldn’t presume to advise anyone on childcare, some of my friends, having seen my FB posts on this in the past, have got these jars for their kids – nothing fancy, often just old jam or sauce jars, that they let them decorate themselves – and say it’s a useful tool, particularly for anxious or worry-prone children.) So why not give it a go?
*I'm obviously lying about having anything better to do on New Year's Eve.
[This is an edited version of a post that originally featured on Darkdates.org]
One of the things about going through a bad patch – or even being more generally prone to anxiety, worry or stress – is you tend to focus more on what’s going wrong (or what could go wrong) and forget all the good things that have happened. So a while back, I read about the idea of a Memory Jar in some self-help post and, having voiced that it seemed like a good idea, one of my friends bought me a lovely, hand painted glass mason jar. The original idea was that whenever something good happens, you write it down and put it in the memory jar, and on New Year’s Eve, you empty the jar and read all the good things that happened during the year. I've since seen this mentioned by authors such as Pam Grout and Elizabeth Gilbert, both of whom suggest not waiting for something good to happen, but every day putting something in the jar - the best thing that happened to you today, even if it was tiny! (You can play around with how you do it to see what works best for you: as with anything like this, you need to find what feels right or you just won't stick with it).
Although I’ve altered that slightly (I have better things to do on NYE*, and the jar, happily, fills up so quickly it wouldn’t last a year), I’ve started doing this myself, and found it serves several purposes.
One, it makes you pay attention to the good things – you’re looking for something to write, even something as small as a free cup of coffee, or a fun night out with a friend – so that attunes you to be more grateful, and to focus on positives.
Two, reading them all out when you empty the jar really does give you a nice warm glow.
But what perhaps surprised me most was that the jar itself serves as an ongoing reminder that Not Everything is Shit. Even if I’ve had a bad week, I go into the kitchen and I see that there’s paper in the jar, and even if I can’t, at that moment, recall anything to be pleased or grateful about, I can see that, unarguably, there were things I was pleased about not that long ago. If you respond to visual prompts, it’s especially useful.
(Also, while I don’t have kids so wouldn’t presume to advise anyone on childcare, some of my friends, having seen my FB posts on this in the past, have got these jars for their kids – nothing fancy, often just old jam or sauce jars, that they let them decorate themselves – and say it’s a useful tool, particularly for anxious or worry-prone children.) So why not give it a go?
*I'm obviously lying about having anything better to do on New Year's Eve.
[This is an edited version of a post that originally featured on Darkdates.org]
February 6, 2017
Guest Post: Caution Spoilers
Do you love movies? Caution Spoilers is a new, fun film site, and I spoke to the founder, Sarah, on my Dark Dates blog:
https://darkdates.org/2017/02/06/qa-s...
https://darkdates.org/2017/02/06/qa-s...
February 1, 2017
Words on screen
Before I became a freelancer, I actually spent several years working as a subtitler for TV shows and movies (I am still an annoying person to go to the BFI shop with, as I point to all the DVDs and go 'ooh! I did that!' So it was enormous fun to talk to film site Caution Spoilers about the nuance of subtitling films (and hiding through the squeamish bits in Oldboy!):
http://www.cautionspoilers.com/interv...
http://www.cautionspoilers.com/interv...
January 31, 2017
Character Spotlight over at Emma the Little Bookworm:
It's always fun to talk about the mechanics of writing and creating characters, so thanks Emma for having me do a Character Spotlight over at her blog!
https://emmathelittlebookworm.wordpre...
https://emmathelittlebookworm.wordpre...
January 30, 2017
Dangerous Liaisons
Sandra Danby invited me on her blog to talk about one of my favourite books, Dangerous Liaisons:
http://www.sandradanby.com/porridge-c...
http://www.sandradanby.com/porridge-c...
