K. Morris's Blog, page 788
February 27, 2014
MEPS VOTE TO CRIMINILISE BUYING SEX
On 26 February Members of the European Parliament (MEPS) voted to criminilise paying for sex, http://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/feb/26/meps-vote-criminalise-buying-sex-european-parliament. The vote, which is non binding may, none the less put pressure on members of the European Union where paying for sex is not illegal to introduce such a prohibition. Proponents of the Nordic model argue that Sweden and the other nations which have followed the Swedish example have seen a decrease in prostitution since the introduction of the ban. They contend that prostitution is, in effect rape and that those who use the services of prostitutes are helping to fuel trafficking and encourage sex slavery. Opponents of the Swedish style law, including many sex worker organisations argue that prohibiting paying for sex merely forces prostitution further underground placing sex workers in danger from clients. Other opponents also argue that the state has no business to interfere with consenting adults do in private and that resources should be concentrated on combating trafficking. In response to opponents of the ban it’s supporters argue that there is no such thing as genuine choice in prostitution, those engaged in it are desperate persons being exploited by the buyers of sex, pimps etc. It will be interesting to see how the debate plays out over the coming months.
My collection of short stories, Street Walker And Other Stories is free in the Kindle Store until Saturday 1 March. To Download Street Walker free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4
Welcome Co-op Members
Originally posted on 
February 25, 2014
What Is That Sound Which So Thrills The Ear?
Several days ago I was browsing Youtube on my iPad when I came across the following squeaky toy sound effect, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U86c2Zf5og. My guide dog, Trigger is a lover of squeaky toys and has often driven me half mad running up and down my flat excitedly squeaking one of his toys, his tail wagging furiously. Given Trigger’s love of things which go squeak in the night I was interested to see how he would react to the Youtube clip.
On clicking on Youtube, Trigger jumped out of his bed and looked around a puzzled expression (well as puzzled as any canine can look) on his face. He then proceeded to investigate my iPad with his nose but, eventually retired in disgust to his bed wondering why whatever was making that squeaking sound refused to be played with! Trigger is now wise to what is happening and hardly dains to lift his head when that new elusive squeaky toy starts it’s squeaking.
Street Walker Free In The Kindle Store From 25 February Until 1 March
My collection of short stories, Street Walker And Other Stories, is free in the Kindle Store from today (25 February) until 1 March.
In this collection of flash fiction we meet a variety of characters, many of whom have been deeply damaged by life. The stories range from a young prostitute
who walks the dangerous streets of London to tales of vengeance and comeuppance. Serious issues of abuse of power are touched upon. Anyone who is looking
for a comfortable read should avoid this book.
To download Street Walker free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4 (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4 (for the US). If you download Street Walker And Other Stories please consider leaving a review on Amazon.
I hope you enjoy Street Walker together with my other stories.
Kevin
February 24, 2014
Max Miller Poet
This young poet (Max is 16-years-old) is well worth checking out, http://maxmillerpoetry.wordpress.com/. I particularly enjoyed Max’s poem, The Boy On The Train. The poem resonates with me as someone who travels on the tube Monday through to Friday. I can imagine Max sitting or standing, on the tube, pen in hand quietly observing his fellow passengers.
February 23, 2014
5 ways new writers can chase away potential readers
A good post containing useful advice, Kevin
Originally posted on MM Jaye writes...:
This post is from a reader’s point of view. With just one complete (unpublished) manuscript and so much to learn, it would be presumptuous of me to give advice to anyone as a writer. Although I may be very new to writing, blogging and platform building, my fifteen-year experience as a translation instructor (tons of proofreading) plus a seasoned reader’s
mentality qualify me to form a solid opinion on both the quality of any text and its potential appeal to readers. I also consider myself a good “success gauge meter”: I voted for J. R. Ward’s
Lover at Last
The School Library
Escape into tranquillity. The scent of books reassures, beckons me in. A world of wonder fills the shelves. Some volumes stand atop high bookcases, tantalisingly out of reach of a small boy. Poe, Hardy, so many authors call to me.
I sit, the only sound that of a clock ticking and the occasional turning of a page. Engrossed, safe from the hurly burly of the playground. Footsteps pass the door. I hold my breath, friend or foe? Will I be chased out to god’s fresh air?
Sometimes the footsteps pass, peace lays her gentle hand on me once moreand I return to my books. On other occasions the door opens and a friendly teacher enquires what I am reading. An exchange ensues, oh the delights of not being talked down to, discussing books man to man with a kind adult.
The dreaded voice
“go outside and get some fresh air. Play with your peers”.
Sadly the book is replaced and, casting a backward glance I exit the peaceful harbour to swim in a sea of children.
Protecting Teenage Prostitutes?
Yesterday I came across an interesting debate on Youtube regarding a Private Members Bill being piloted through Parliament by the Labour MP John Mann which, if it becomes law would make it illegal to pay for sex with a prostitute aged under 21, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHukn6AHHi4. Under UK law the age of consent is 16 for both men and women. It is, however illegal to pay for sex with anyone under the age of 18. John Mann and his supporters believe that those aged over 18 but under 21 are particularly vunnerable so making it illegal to pay for sex with this group would reduce the demand for young prostitutes giving these ladies (and men) breathing space and the chance to explore alternative career paths.
Opponents of the proposal argue that it is unenforcible and that the law should be left as it currently stands. Others believe that the Swedish model should be implemented under which those who pay for sex are prosecuted while men and women engaged in the sex industry are assisted to exit prostitution.
In my story, Samantha, Sam is forced into prostitution in the city of Liverpool by her brutal pimp Barry and it is touch and go as to whether she will survive or end her brutalised existence in the murky waters of Liverpool’s Albert Docks. In The First Time we meet Becky, a young graduate who becomes a prostitute in order to pay off her debts. The First Time explores the psychological effects of working in the sex industry on Becky and her fellow escort and friend Julie. In neither story do I refer to the age of Samantha or Becky, however I had in the back of my mind that Becky is 21 while Sam is 18 or 19 (Samantha is studying at university when she becomes entrapped into prostitution).
For Samantha please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI (for the US).
For The First Time please visit http://www.amazon.com/First-Time-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00FJGKY7Y/ref=la_B00CEECWHY_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1393147163&sr=1-1 (for the US or http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-First-Time-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00FJGKY7Y (for the UK). For a recent review of The First Time please visit https://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/the-first-time-book-review/.
My collection of short stories, An Act Of Mercy is free in the Kindle Store until Tuesday 25 February. To download An Act Of Mercy free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/An-act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/An-act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS (for the US).
February 22, 2014
On Literary Failure
One of the most poignant fictional examples of literary failure is that of Edward Casaubon in George Eliot’s Middlemarch. The below passage speaks for itself – the growing realisation of an author that his life’s work, “The Key To All Mythologies” is unlikely to be completed and Casaubon’s chagrin regarding the lack of appreciation by other scholars of his talent.
“One
morning, some weeks after her arrival at Lowick, Dorothea– but why always Dorothea? Was her point of view the only possible one with regard to this marriage?
protest against all our interest, all our effort at understanding being given to the young skins that look blooming in spite of trouble; for these too
will get faded, and will know the older and more eating griefs which we are helping to neglect. In spite of the blinking eyes and white moles objectionable
to Celia, and the want of muscular curve which was morally painful to Sir James, Mr. Casaubon had an intense consciousness within him, and was spiritually
a-hungered like the rest of us. He had done nothing exceptional in marrying–nothing but what society sanctions, and considers an occasion for wreaths
and bouquets. It had occurred to him that he must not any longer defer his intention of matrimony, and he had reflected that in taking a wife, a man of
good position should expect and carefully choose a blooming young lady–the younger the better, because more educable and submissive–of a rank equal to
his own, of religious principles, virtuous disposition, and good understanding. On such a young lady he would make handsome settlements, and he would neglect
no arrangement for her happiness: in return, he should receive family pleasures and leave behind him that copy of himself which seemed so urgently required
of a man– to the sonneteers of the sixteenth century. Times had altered since then, and no sonneteer had insisted on Mr. Casaubon’s leaving a copy of
himself; moreover, he had not yet succeeded in issuing copies of his mythological key; but he had always intended to acquit himself by marriage, and the
sense that he was fast leaving the years behind him, that the world was getting dimmer and that he felt lonely, was a reason to him for losing no more
time in overtaking domestic delights before they too were left behind by the years.
And
when he had seen Dorothea he believed that he had found even more than he demanded: she might really be such a helpmate to him as would enable him to dispense
with a hired secretary, an aid which Mr. Casaubon had never yet employed and had a suspicious dread of. (Mr. Casaubon was nervously conscious that he was
expected to manifest a powerful mind.) Providence, in its kindness, had supplied him with the wife he needed. A wife, a modest young lady, with the purely
appreciative, unambitious abilities of her sex, is sure to think her husband’s mind powerful. Whether Providence had taken equal care of Miss Brooke in
presenting her with Mr. Casaubon was an idea which could hardly occur to him. Society never made the preposterous demand that a man should think as much
about his own qualifications for making a charming girl happy as he thinks of hers for making himself happy. As if a man could choose not only his wife
hut his wife’s husband! Or as if he were bound to provide charms for his posterity in his own person!– When Dorothea accepted him with effusion, that
was only natural; and Mr. Casaubon believed that his happiness was going to begin.
He
had not had much foretaste of happiness in his previous life. To know intense joy without a strong bodily frame, one must have an enthusiastic soul. Mr.
Casaubon had never had a strong bodily frame, and his soul was sensitive without being enthusiastic: it was too languid to thrill out of self-consciousness
into passionate delight; it went on fluttering in the swampy ground where it was hatched, thinking of its wings and never flying. His experience was of
that pitiable kind which shrinks from pity, and fears most of all that it should be known: it was that proud narrow sensitiveness which has not mass enough
to spare for transformation into sympathy, and quivers thread-like in small currents of self-preoccupation or at best of an egoistic scrupulosity. And
Mr. Casaubon had many scruples: he was capable of a severe self-restraint; he was resolute in being a man of honor according to the code; he would be unimpeachable
by any recognized opinion. In conduct these ends had been attained; but the difficulty of making his Key to all Mythologies unimpeachable weighed like
lead upon his mind; and the pamphlets–or “Parerga” as he called them–by which he tested his public and deposited small monumental records of his march,
were far from having been seen in all their significance. He suspected the Archdeacon of not having read them; he was in painful doubt as to what was really
thought of them by the leading minds of Brasenose, and bitterly convinced that his old acquaintance Carp had been the writer of that depreciatory recension
which was kept locked in a small drawer of Mr. Casaubon’s desk, and also in a dark closet of his verbal memory. These were heavy impressions to struggle
against, and brought that melancholy embitterment which is the consequence of all excessive claim: even his religious faith wavered with his wavering trust
in his own authorship, and the consolations of the Christian hope in immortality seemed to lean on the immortality of the still unwritten Key to all Mythologies.
For my part I am very sorry for him. It is an uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle
of life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self– never to be fully possessed by the glory we behold, never to have our consciousness
rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought, the ardor of a passion, the energy of an action, but always to be scholarly and uninspired, ambitious
and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted. Becoming a dean or even a bishop would make little difference, I fear, to Mr. Casaubon’s uneasiness. Doubtless some
ancient Greek has observed that behind the big mask and the speaking-trumpet, there must always be our poor little eyes peeping as usual and our timorous
lips more or less under anxious control”.
Poor Casaubon dies with his work in such disarray that it will never be fit for publication. Such a waste of a life, Casaubon exemplifies the danges writers can get caught up in, endlessly conducting research but never drawing together their work for publication. He is, as Eliot says to be pittied.
