A Right Royal Knees Up

A Right Royal Knees Up in Hyde Park, London

The happy couple

And then, watching every thrilling moment on our glorious 46" big screen TV, there was me. Laptop nearby...on my lap, actually, as I continued my search for more literary agents to send my query letters to. And research on how to write professional query letters. And how to format the profesional query letters. Even royal weddings can't distract me from my true goal.

One fantastic blog I'd like to refer any debut writer to is this one. Anne Mini has plenty of experience and seemingly limitless energy, and is there to help us lost and confused new writers try to find our way down the tangled path of the literary agent and publishing world.

And (this is advice to myself as much as to anyone else) stay strong! Even Audrey Niffenegger (of Time Traveler's Wife fame) got rejected dozens of times.

And congrats to the happy couple!

If you're reading this, Chuck Palahniuk...

So far the most shocking book I have ever read (and that includes American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis); a sickeningly lovely collection of short stories that all group together to make a large satisfying story.

... I just wanted to say thank you, Chuck Palahniuk, for writing such a scary and deep beauty of a book. Just five minutes ago I finished reading it. 

I found I sometimes did not want to open it, for fear of what I would find. I found other times that I needed to open it, to look through that keyhole, into the nightmare box, to see what I could see, me alone. I walked into it the way a person might walk into a forgotten cobwebbed attic, unsure what the shapes are under those dusty sheets but needing to find out just the same.

I appreciate your afterward, as well, and it is true - so few people bother reading books anymore that you can pretty much write anything.

I like how you don't compromise or apologise. For anything. It certainly takes guts.

 And for the record, I did not faint when I read "Guts." That is only because that was one nine-page story I could not finish reading because I was just about to faint. And I had breakfast to eat. Work to go to. I'm sure you will understand.

Thanks again.

Finding an agent

.... is tough.

This is me, when I look like Charlie Brown being frustrated.

However as my dad has so kindly reminded me, without Thomas Edison and his 10,000 failures, where would we be?

In the dark. That's where.

I do love a bank holiday Monday

What I am doing today.

But really, I am. It's perfect sunshine out here and you bet I've got my glass of wine and a little gruesome darkness that is Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted. There are actually a few chapters I can't read in this but that doesn't matter. Everyone loves some sardonic humor. Me included. And you get that on every page.

Besides, I am taking a break from hard editing my completed novel Ashbourne Hauntings, which I have submitted yet again, this time to a literary agency in Colorado. I chew my fingernails in anticipation.

Tomorrow I plan on making the most of another day off - this one's a true holiday day for me, taken off of the 25 days I get to choose from, man I love England - and trundle down to Doncaster's thriving town center to visit Age UK charity shop in Bowers Fold, where there happens to be a new (I mean that on the most surface level) vintage line of clothing taking up a whole floor of the shop. This little vixen has created something that sounds like a dream come true, so I look forward to paying a visit. Anyone local to Doncaster with their eye on fashion, well, let me know what you think!

Enjoy the sun everyone.

Veronica's 10 Handy Hints for Getting Smashed

(Neil, I have actioned your comment in the Suggestion Box. Here ya go.)

10. Drink lots of water before going to bed. A huge big pint. I call it the Remedy for Success: chasing down 2 ibuprofen (or 2 paracetamol depending on where you are in the world). It is sure to decrease the effects of hangover (for those of you unfamiliar with this term, that is your headache and nausea in the morning) by at least 30%.

9. Keep with your friends as long as you can. If someone comes up to you that you know, and they are moving in the opposite direction of your friends that you're actually out with, know that there's plenty of your company to go around. Say hello.

8. When the world starts spinning clockwise, it's time to probably go home. Try to do this before two in the morning, when the taxi queues are the shortest. (I know, sometimes this is impossible.)

7. Girls, bring some flat shoes. As a back-up. I'm only saying.

6.  When Far East Movement's "Like a G6" comes on, do you what your body tells you to do. Even if you are in the middle of a deep, soulful conversation. The song is telling you what to do. (Poppin' bottles in the ice.) Dance.

5. Guys, not all girls are out to pull. Not all girls want free drinks. From guys they don't know. Some girls are out just with their friends. I'm just saying.

4. At the risk of sounding like everyone's mother, most of the time it can be a good idea to alternate your large glass of chardonnay with a glass of Coke every now and then. Or diet Coke. It not only stretches your precious £££ throughout the night, but also, you can remember more of it.

3. No amount of bad weather can stop a good night out. Don't let it! Remember: It's not raining/snowing/sleeting in the pub.

2. When your stomach tells you to eat... eat! Chips!

1. Stay away from Sambuca shots. Jaegerbombs. Miller Genuine Draft. Gin. Rum. Vodka. Mojitos. Bailey's Irish Cream. Tia Maria. Red wine. White wine. Rose wine. Long Island Iced Tea. Budweiser. Pabst Blue Ribbon (definitely). Jack Daniels. Mike's Hard Lemonade. In fact, you know what, just... stick to water. Yeah, yeah that's the best idea.

Goat

Anyone who has met Brad Land or seen my tattoo will be familiar with this image:

There are delicate moments in our lives that really show us who we are. Some say cancelled flights, traffic jams, and tangled Christmas tree lights can bring out our true colours. And I do tend to agree with that. However Brad Land's memoir, Goat, gives us another point of view from the victim-turned-survivor of a particularly brutal assault at college. It shows his reaction and his journey to self-realisation from it. It is a beauty of a book, in very plain, in-your-face language.

I had the pleasure of meeting Brad Land when he came to Ball State University and sat in with my creative nonfiction writing class some years ago. He was a kind, chatty, young gentleman who also signed my book and drew a picture of a house with a little tree next to it one of those blank pages that comes at the very beginning of the book. I treasure this signed first edition.

But what I would like to say is that sometimes it takes time for us to let it settle, then reach into ourselves and bring out those delicate moments and show ourselves how we have changed from them. To show how they have branded us, and why we identify with them. The goat can be for different reasons, but I feel we have all been a goat at least once in our lives. We were the pawn, the joke, the center of confusion, the need to fit in, the sacrifice. We were the redemption that came out of it, and ultimately the reminder of all of it. Behold, the survivor. Because goats can balance precariously on mountainsides when everything else slides down.

 My first and only tattoo (so far)

It was a queer, sultry summer...

You guessed it! The first line from Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar is now staring you in the face.

I have just finished reading this book that one of my friends has loaned me and, of course, Plath does not disappoint. You can read the poet in her through this, her only novel, which was published only a couple of weeks before her suicide at the tender age of 30. Sometimes I wonder if this book is as much a work of fiction as it is her memoir. Sometimes.

I have also recentley watched a movie worth mentioning. It was based on a book by Jon Krakauer, called Into the Wild. It is a beautiful story and I have yet to read the book... but if it is anything like the film, it will be an amazing read. It is based on the true story of Chris McCandless and his tragic journey into the Alaskan wilderness.

In other news, I have happily spent a shiny Amazon gift certificate given to me by friends at Christmas. Finally decided what I want! There are so many books to choose from, and here are a few of the ones I chose to get cozy with:

Last but certainly not least.

Oh! Many happy days of reading ahead!  :)

Tree.

Just off of Bentley Road. March 24, 2011

This was taken on my phone on my walk home from the train station (yes, I am a commuter) after a long day of work in advertising. I think sometimes, like James Dickey said, "I was selling my soul to the devil all day...and trying to buy it back at night." Taken just a few days before England cranked its clocks an hour forward to mark the beginning of British Summer Time, I caught a sunset that took my breath away.

You can spend all day trying to make some bucks influencing people to go with this plumber or buy from this windows retailer, and it can be exhaustive and rewarding work. But sometimes I just want to sit and watch the sunset. Does that mean I'm getting old?

Perhaps.

I just want to remind you, dear reader, to acknowledge those images that move you because most often it is those unexpected things that, leaving you breathless, breathe the life back into you.

The Stephen King dilemma

As I have literally just today finished reading Stephen King's Rose Madder, I have come to an interesting crossroads about the King of Horror. I have spent years, really, years worshipping this very talented writer, and not just because I was brought up on the likes of R.L. Stine Goosebumps novels. I think, in the grand scheme of things, the nature vs nurture debate really does come up even stevens. As much as a person can argue that a person's likes or dislikes can stem from her upbringing, you could also concede that she was always like that, had a little bit of that in her blood. For me, it was scary stories.

And who else would be such a logical step after R.L. Stine? I mean, really? So, let's jump forward in time: I have been through the school of hard knocks when it comes to writing and creating a story that other people will read. I have been through the whole question in my head that goes something like this: Do you want to write something that you like or do you want to write something that everybody else likes (and will sell)?

The answer to that question, well, I can't really say. Stephen King, in his book On Writing (A Memoir of the Craft) - one of his only nonfiction books besides Danse Macabre - states that you have to write what you know and what you have a passion about. You have to write full-bodied characters and not just bags of bones. I totally agree with that.

Inspiration: Rose Madder

My creative writing profs at Ball State University, bless their cotton socks, have told me time and time again that if you want to do good writing, if you want to learn from literary stories, you must stay away from Stephen King. Stephen King is the ultimate genre writer. Stephen King is to horror as McDonald's is to hamburgers. But the thing of it is, they must be doing something write otherwise they wouldn't sell.

So now I am at the point where, after years of thinking Stephen King can do no wrong, that he is more or less in existence on this earth as a god, I can see now that yes, sometimes he overwrites (just as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was criticized, at times, for putting in "too many notes"), and sometimes relies on overblown blood and guts to get his point across and carry the story through to its bitter, bitter end (Carrie, Cujo, Salem's Lot even The Green Mile). But that is just his writing style. So he has a simile for just about every sensation his main character feels, so what? So I've gotten lower points on my creative writing assignments - both fiction and nonfiction - for glaring, mixed metaphors, in my hopeless stab at simulating the King of Horror himself. So what? Clearly, at the end of the day, it is a subjective market, and he has his own style and voice and that works for him.

But I will still love and adore his writing and take this multitude of - I wouldn't say faults, as such, just differences in writing style to mine - quirks with a pinch of salt. No matter how horrific his stories are, he always touches on a nerve that is the true heart of the story. These moments are so quiet and serene and powerful that all the buckets of blood that the main character will be most likely covered in later don't matter - it is the soul of the character that really matters, and that great shift that makes us want to follow him or her with an open and willing heart is always there.

And besides - there's always such gems as Dolores Claiborne, Shawshank Redemption and The Body to keep us on a literary bent in the Stepehen King library. He is, still, a genius to me.

Ain't about the cha-ching cha-ching

First of all, I would like to say all apologies for my lack of blog posts these past couple of weeks. I have been spending my time walking in the woods, surviving solely on grubs and ground tree bark, rediscovering myself and the purpose I have on this planet been busy. That it happens to coincide with the very day I received a rejection letter from Judith Murdoch Literary Agency is purely coincidental.

I just wanted to say that Jessie J brings it back for real. It really ain't about the price tag, and let's all remember that. Too often our real lives are muddled with the desire to have the biggest wardrobe and the best shoes (all eleven pairs of them), because the commercials on TV and the adverts in magazines like Cosmopolitan tell us that we are simply not good enough without this body lotion or that pair of sunglasses. It really is ridiculous isn't it? How much we are defined by our image of ourselves, when really it is that image - the one hidden underneath all that makeup and fake tan and cologne - that is hiding who we really are?

Before this gets into a deep philosophical conundrum, and perhaps it is too late, I think it's important to just take off all that silly stuff and put on our jim jams and fuzzy socks and get back to what's important. And of course that would be ice cream and Friends re-runs.