M.P. Sharma's Blog, page 26

To gain knowled…

To gain knowledge, you may simply observe, but to truly understand, you must experience.

In the end we’r…

In the end we’re all writers, because each one of us has the power to write our own story.

Anyone up for interviewing their character? Because I am! Take it over Adrinius (from The Last True Blood) …

Behold Adrinius; I am Dracula’s only true dark successor! After I was sired, the old man got sloppy, and the lineage has been going downhill ever since.

I fail to understand the fascination with mortality in the first place, when you look at me, it’s easy to see why someone, anyone, would want to keep this forever. I find it ridiculously bizarre to have to introduce myself, or answer any questions because the entire vampire world knows and fears me, and those mortals who have had the good fortune of meeting me have never lived long enough to share their tales of being one with their saviour, but I’m in a good mood, so I’ll oblige …

Does living as a vampire have the same appeal as prior to being turned (if you’re that type of vampire)? If you had to do it over, would you?

Life as a human is so very painfully mundane; I can hardly bear the thought of having to live with a beating heart again. I was by far then, as I am now to the vampire clan in this form, the perfect specimen of mortality anyone had ever laid their eyes on, but even then, it was b-o-r-i-n-g! Why anyone would ever want to go back is beyond me, but then I have never been able to vouch for the concept of human common sense.

What aspect of humanity or being human have you lost or used less – or has diminished the most?

Haven’t we been over this already? Didn’t I just explain that humans have nothing to offer? Okay, allow me to explain this in simple terms you may be able to grasp with your underdeveloped cranium. Humans would have to possess something worthwhile in the first place for me to have used it at all after I was turned, which they don’t. Just so we’re clear – If anything, becoming a vampire has made me smarter, faster, better, and well, hotter than any mortal could ever be, let alone ever dream of becoming. Got it?

Are there any female vampires around?

Huh, too many for my liking if you ask me. If you think mortal females nag, just imagine having one around you that never ever stops, plus her bite is definitely worse than her bark. Don’t get me wrong, I am an equal opportunist, by that I mean I definitely want you when I do, but my desire for you is also as powerful at the time when I am finished with you and want you to leave, well, forever. I can’t stand clingy vampyresses and I wish they’d get that, but then again, who can blame them? Once you’ve tasted Adrinius, there is no going back, it’s an unfortunate undeniable simple fact – for them.

Can you have sex the ‘traditional’ way? Do you have any desire for sex?

I don’t know; let’s find out together, I’m game if you are. As for the desire bit, I am still a man, but I can see you get that from the way your eyes haven’t left my body since you first got a glimpse of this splendour.

What happens if you suck your own blood?

What kind of a question is that? What happens if you eat your own arm? Why would anyone want to do that unless they have serious suicide issues, which is a moot point in the case of vampires anyway, so why bother thinking about it? Have I mentioned I’m bored yet, and tedious activities more often than not lead to thirst, just saying …

With the success of vampires in the mainstream, do you find it harder in this day and age to survive?

Humans are stupid creatures, are they not? You would think that with an increased awareness of our, well, culinary requirements, it would get harder to find sources of nourishment, but if anything, life is getting easier, it’s almost no fun anymore. Not when you have pretty little things offering their necks up left, right and center to sustain you. Apparently, ripping your fangs into tender, ripe flesh has never been more alluring to mortals before, go figure!

What significance, if any, does gender identity and sexual (etc.) orientation have for vampires?

My mind stopped working at sexual; does that answer your question? Look, I’m a guy; it’s as simple as that, I’ll tell a girl anything she wants to hear as long as it gets me what I want. In the end, I guess us vampires aren’t much different to our mortal primates when it comes to gender equality and that other bunch of stuff you were harping on about.

Do you find the idea of being undead – ‘living’ forever, sleeping in a coffin, and so on – as horrifying as I do?

Um, stereotypical much? Ask yourself, why anyone would want to sleep in a coffin, really? These malicious rumours are just another one of your kind’s mind-numbing ways of singling us out as being the barbaric ones, when you’d rather point the finger at someone else other than your pathetic kind. I mean seriously, why would vampires, with all the money they have, sleep in a 6 by 6 wooden box? I know it’s a tall ask, but can I at least request that you use your brain when asking me these pointless questions?

How much is a pint of blood?

I’ll be damned if I know. For me a pint of blood is when my thirst has been quenched. It’s just a measurement I use for willingly nervous feeds, it seems to do better than “Come ‘ere lass and let me suck you dry”, but only just.

Would you date a werewolf?

Ugh, you are kidding, right? Have you been speaking to my sister, and if yes, what on earth would possess you to interact with that stickler for rules? Absolutely not, I mean, each to their own, but I don’t condone bestiality.

What is the most important thing to you?

Well that’s another dumb question; did you come armed with a truckload? You’re looking at it. What could possibly be more important to anyone or anything in this entire universe than the Great Adrinius?

Just because you promised me some entertainment, which I am still waiting for by the way, here is Adrinius’ Awesomeness distilled into 11 facts (hardly possible, but here goes)…

Fact 1: My mortal body is from Ireland, and I have black hair, cobalt blue eyes and killer dimples to go with my chiseled six packs.

Fact 2: I am Dracula’s sired first born, his only true successor and pretty much the only right move he has made his entire life, which doesn’t say much seeing as the guy is old, and I mean, really old.

Fact 3: Girls have always squealed around me, I was good looking as a human, but I am positively ravishingly irresistible as a vamp. I have plump, free necks at my beck and call whenever and wherever.

Fact 4: Can we please get one thing straight? My sisters and brothers are NOT really my sisters and brothers, so if I do it with them, it’s not incest. Got it?

Fact 5: There is no one better, hotter, more intelligent, and basically, more superior to me. This is not my ego speaking, a fact is just that – a fact, no sugar coating required.

Fact 6: You know that saying, “though I’m rough around the edges, I’m actually quite soft on the inside”? Yeah, that doesn’t hold true for me. What you see is what you get – pure good looking evil!

Fact 7: How many different facts do you need to get that I’m the best already?

Fact 8: Mallika can deny it as much as she wants, but she wants me. I mean, who could blame her, but I’m not used to chasing my food or my women, so she’ll just have to come to her senses on her own one day.

Fact 9: The author I chose to tell my story thinks she has me down pat, but man is she wrong. I own AND rule her whether she accepts it or not, hence these facts being about me instead of her. A book can’t constrain me; there aren’t enough trees or computer screens in the world to do me justice.

Fact 10: I’m all for out with the old and in with the new. Dracula is so yesterday, the era of Adrinius has begun.

Fact 11: I bore easily, and when I am bored, I’m hungry. That’s it, no more questions, care to be my dinner?

Thank you Francis at the blog for sending this my way!

I have had so much fun conducting this interview as Adrinius, apologies in advance for any possible offences he may have committed, but that’s Adrinius! 

As per the rules, I would like to nominate two very cool paranormal authors for this award (sorry, can’t think of a 3rd one at this stage, but when I do, I will definitely update this post!):

A.S. Leon

Renea Mason

If you’d like to play, please have a look at the rules below, and for some more information, please visit the Vampire Lover Blog Award page!

The Rules

1. You must be a vampire.

2. Link back to the one who nominated you.

3. Display the Vampire Lover Blog Award image.

4. State 11 facts about yourself.

5. Answer 11 questions from the list at

http://vampireloverblogaward.wordpress.com/about/

6. State these rules.

7. Nominate (and notify) at least 3 fellow bloggers.

See you around guys!

Your vision bec…

Your vision becomes clear when you look inside your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.

Excellent Quote by the great Carl Jung!

My badly cloaked quote obsession!

Some of you may have stumbled upon my very apparent quote fixation. I don’t know when it started, but I have always seemed to be a little more preoccupied with the short factual nuances of life than the average Joe (as the Aussies would say).

So, I will probably be posting the irrelevant scribbles I either come across or woefully create along the way on this blog.

To those who can’t stand the concept, please accept my sincere apologies in advance and don’t un-follow me! Just stay clear of that quote folder to the bottom right hand corner of this page. I promise I’ll abide by the rules and try not to go all crazy on you … at least no more than usual.

To those who like them as much as me, please do disclose your treasure chest. I can’t wait to cry, laugh, communally tug our hair out, snicker, and partake in all those other various human emotions we all share, because in the words of the great Socrates, “all I know is that I know nothing”, so bring it on!

Once a soul sew…

Once a soul sews itself together after being ripped by rejection, it dawns it was never rejection, it was just another learning curve

So very valid for writers! Stay strong & keep writing everyone … solider on!!!

If the voices in my head are impossible to count, should I be in the loony bin? Writers beware, because …

If that’s the case, then I’m taking most, if not all writer’s down with me! Imaginary friends are the norm for most of us, so what if mine just never left, right? Sure, my “friends” evolved, they matured and grew, and often became sounding boards for all the major epic disasters during my life, like when my stocking decided to commit suicide, obliterating itself at my knee five minutes before I went up on stage in front of the whole school, and I hadn’t waxed … but that is another story, one that I will try and spare you from.

Numerous characters in your head are what most writers would believe are prerequisites to, well, writing, but it doesn’t necessarily confer smooth sailing for the creative act. I mean seriously, at least with real people you can, to put it bluntly, tell them to shut “the you know what” up, or you could simply leave, distance yourself from their nonstop blabbering, but what happens when those characters are a part of you, and you don’t remember sending out an invite?

The infinite voices in my head are incessantly determined. They will knock, claw, and annihilate my cranium until they are heard, and to top it all off, they don’t care about social nuances like timing or appropriate forms of communication. I may own them, but in the end, they rule, and worst of all … they know it.

I will often be found whispering to myself in an argumentative tone, begging, pleading for a moment’s solitude, a break of sorts, but they will, at every stage refuse to listen unless I pen their personalities down, afraid I presume, that their unique attributes will be lost to the world unless ink is sprawled firmly on paper. They don’t care whether anyone’s interested in knowing about them, their relentless selfishness and omnipresent character attributes prevent them from worrying about societal norms of being accepted. Their egos are insurmountably pervasive and unsurpassable in that they truly believe that they must be heard, that they must exist in the real world.

Sure, I may sound like a poster child for Multiple Personality Disorder, but the truth is I wouldn’t let them go, even if I could. Why? I am tempted to whine “just because”, but the fact is that they make up what I am, who I am. They form a chunk of the core that makes me interesting, or uninteresting, or simply stark mad to those around me. I just wish they’d have some off days and quit bugging me 24/7!

Yes, they’re like a class of two year old tantrum throwers who bombard my brain matter, and the few grey cells I am holding onto for dear life left within my skull, but they provide me with a innumerable source of entertainment that I carry along with me in my knapsack on this journey called life. Plus, they won’t stop screaming at me until I use that flashing cursor on my empty page to tell their stories.

So to use the words of Eminem, “I am nuts for real, but I’m okay with that … [because I] get along with the voices inside my head”.

Disclaimer: This post was penned by all of us/me.

There’s a fine, blurred line between Writer’s Block and Procrastination…

So I sliced my finger while dismembering a passionfruit yesterday, and under the painful stinging and profuse bleeding, barely cloaked, mind you, lay a think under layer of gleeful relief.

I mean, how could I possibly type under these dire circumstances, and if I can’t type, I can’t write. It’s as simple as that, an incorruptible fact that has no dubious double meanings or ulterior motives. At least, this is what I have been telling myself for the past two days every time I do a U-turn as my pinkie, even remotely steps towards the vicinity that is housed by my overbearing computer screen. Though this ailment has been inflicting me for the past seven days, long before I nearly mutilated a vital part of my body, that hardly matters – I just promised myself I would be honest on this blog, so full disclosure is a prerequisite, hence I am boring you with the details, if you’ve even bothered to continue reading.

I am, however, rambling. Something I often do when I am trying to cover up a slightly poor aspect of my personality, which, in this event, is a severe case of procrastination syndrome. I find it extremely difficult to distinguish between Writer’s Block and a simple case of blatant, unashamed “bleh”, which some may term as gluttonous laziness, but what I much rather sum up as a “get off my f#%!n ass and write something already, will you?” phase.

I also attempt to avoid thinking about how Writer’s Block is a luxury I never dabble in when I am writing a journalistic piece, because it’s funny how your brain kicks into full gear if the choices are “Writer’s Block” (quotation marks are placed here for ‘yeah right’ sarcastic emphasis), or food on the table tonight. I am Indian, so in the end the stomach always wins, hands down … and I mean always.

Does that mean that I believe that the very notion of Writer’s Block is just another excuse for your undeniable sloth? Before I start getting spammed with hate mail from writers with a very legitimate case of the disease (my condolences by the way), just hold your horses, because the answer is a very convincingly flamboyant no!

It’s just that when I force myself to commence the untangling of the layers that build up my complex personality the way I would shred an onion, I can honestly say that it is unlikely that I am truly inflicted with the pesky disease 364 days a year, because if I am, I really need to start looking for another job.

Does this stab at a soul searching excerpt on my writing endeavours help me to clear my doubts in an effort to commence writing something that can, at least, be construed as a somewhat pitiful example of a sentence by a five year old?

Hell no! This pep talk was for my writing karma. In fact, I think all the unrequired exertion may result in complete bed rest for my index finger for the next week or so, ah the things we writer’s do to put pen on paper, right? I’m off to ice my unfortunate butchered finger … score!

Diversity in Literature: Why “just White” doesn’t make the cut anymore

When I was about twelve, I was shopping in my quaint little corner shop, on the edge of a crooked country town road located in my modest, antiquated village. There’s more to this story … I swear.

I was at the checkout when I suddenly felt an odd patting, come stroking movement on the top of my left hand laid out on the rusty wooden counter. My initial knee jerk reaction was a stiffening of my limbs as I looked down at a little dark girl, no older than eight probably, staring up at me with large round black spheres for eyes. I was slightly perturbed and was about to pull away politely when my mum laid her firm hand on my shoulder, saying that it was okay and that all she wanted to do was assimilate.

I didn’t quite get it, but as an Asian kid, you soon realise, after coming out from the womb you’ve been renting for nine or so months, that what mum says goes. When I returned to the safety of my abode, I asked mum why that little dark girl was caressing my hand.

Turns out that that little dark girl was a Sri Lankan orphan, who had recently been adopted by her Caucasian Australian parents from a remote rural village, tucked away in some nondescript nook and cranny of the small island … and that she was lonely. Suddenly the words she uttered as she looked up at her parents in barely concealed glee coupled with excitement of “look mum, she looks like me” made a whole lot of sense.

While I was twittering today, I happened to (thankfully) stumble upon the #WeNeedDiverseBooks campaign, and man am I glad I did! The very first thing that popped into my mind is the incident that I just recounted to you.

Am I really as naïve as to think that diversity in our literature would solve that little girl’s (and those who have no doubt come after her) problem? Though I am pretty naïve … absolutely not. Do I think that reading about others that look like you in a non-stereotypical way, armed with nothing more than normal human emotions going about their mundane daily lives may help a little? I would suggest, yes.

When Literary Agents suggest that I write about more “normal” characters in my book, and scratch their heads/pull their hair out in frustration when I rewrite the bits they weren’t alluding to, I say I can read between the lines, I just choose not to.

A couple of hairless Literary Agents later, I remember that Little Dark Girl and think, in my techie speak, Diversity in Literature can’t just be a “nice to have” any longer, it’s definitely a “must have”.

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Why India & Vampires are such a sexy combo …

When I was asked to contribute to a guest blog on how Indian cultural perspectives have influenced my debut vampire novel, I jumped at the idea. As a journalist, getting to write on something that truly means something to you is a rarity and even more unexpected, so the far and few opportunities that do come your way are exciting and nerve wracking all at once.

A few days ago, I wrote about the insecurities I face writing fiction, a debilitating aspect of my endeavours as a fiction writer. The crux of my editorial fear has reached its peak with the availability of my book at major online retailers last week.

This guest contribution has been cathartic in many ways for me because it forced me to uncover old wounds on why I went down the self-publishing path in the first place, and more pertinently, my motives for telling a story I strongly believed I had to let loose.

The Last True Blood (LTB) Series is close to my heart for many reasons; firstly, I have been absolutely obsessed with vampires since I was (gratefully) subjected to Bram Stoker’s Dracula in my first year of Journalism studies at University. Secondly, as a proud Indian often classified as an “International citizen”, having being born in the United Kingdom and having grown up in the Middle East, Australia & sporadically in India, it has been difficult (dare I say it – nearly impossible) finding literature with a strong, albeit, any sort of, Indian presence.

My preliminary discussions with Literary Agents internationally tended to resonate one skimpily cloaked, yet obvious fact, Mallika (my main protagonist) just wasn’t stereotypically Indian enough! As an Indian female, I myself was perplexed at this notion, which led me to ponder, what exactly is an Indian?

After bashing my head against a brick wall for the better half of a weekend, and a few bruises later, I realised that the very notion of a stereotypical anything is bizarre in itself …

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