The latest anthology from Candy Jars books in the Lethbridge-Stewart universe featuring my short story, Remnant of a Haunting, which sees Anne returning to the Glencross, the scene of the novel A Very Private Haunting.
Having had a cold all last week, looking like death warmed up, and having difficulty lying down, it’s maybe little surprise I should recall a snippet of information once told to me by a National Trust volunteer. I cannot recall which property we were in but we lingered to look at a rather short double bed.
“How many people do you think slept in that?” the volunteer asked us.
Aware this must be a question with an unusual answer, we suggested, “Four?” Our thinking was that perhaps as there were no other sleeping arrangements and for warmth the parents kept their children in the bed with them.
“Six.”
I have to admit I blinked at the bed, mentally trying to calculate the extraordinary positions or height variations required to make them all fit but failed to come up with anything short of a nocturnal game of Twister. “Six?”
“Yes. How did they all fit?” She echoed the question revolving in my head. The answer is simple and one that explains why this sprang to mind last week.
They sat up because only the dead lay down.
Such was their belief but forced to sit to sleep all last week, the risk of drowning in unspeakable fluids while I slept too great, all I could do was to grumble at the idea. I hate having to sleep sitting up; the thought of doing it voluntarily makes me shiver with more dread than the notion ‘only the dead’ take up a horizontal position.
A new reality has been created by the temporal disruption ripping through the causal nexus. Welcome to 1978… with a difference.
Anne Travers, co-founder of UNIT, and her husband, Bill, are celebrating their wedding anniversary in France, which is the perfect opportunity for Anne to catch-up with an old friend; Madeleine Bonnaire.
At the institute owned by Madeleine’s father, one professor is more interested in his own project than any work for which Bonnaire has hired him. His need for secrecy and his attitude irritates his assistant, Paul Larousse, who would prefer to dwell on his feelings for Madeleine. Meanwhile, Victor Bonnaire is not at all happy to hear of Anne’s visit, not least of all because he’s always viewed Anne as a bad influence on his daughter.
What seems like a simple case of familial friction takes a bleak turn when a local unknown threat makes the news. Suspicion abounds and throws Anne and Bill into an unexpected mystery. What is the strange threat, and does it present a direct danger to anybody at the institute? Or to those who ask too many questions? Unable to walk away from her friend, Anne has no option but to investigate, little knowing she’s about to face the darkest shadow of her life so far.
Something a little different today. I have to share my accidental best recipe for the lightest home popped popcorn.
I've a popcorn recipe book for both savoury and sweet flavours from which I've only tried a few recipes, but one stood out combining both sweet and salty flavours. It's simple enough and nice enough but one day I replaced the oil used with another and came up with the lightest popcorn with the salty, sweet taste that works out cheaper than store bought and likely healthier because goodness knows we all need to question what mass-produced products contain.
Take two tablespoons of coconut oil, melt in a lidded pan. Once melted
increase the heat, and drop in a couple of handfuls of popping corn
kernels. Shake the pan intermittently and when the first piece of corn
pops, quickly lift the lid and drop in a heaped tablespoon of sugar.
(Tip: put the sugar into a saucer, or ramekin or pot ready as it's far
less likely to spill and makes it easier and faster to drop the lid back
on).
Keep shaking the pan now and then until the popping slows and almost
stops then remove from the heat. Tip corn into a bowl and then sprinkle
on a little salt as you like it.
I found this a good substitute for salty, sweet corn and corn popped in coconut oil to be light and crisp.
Though famous as a time of harvest, turning, and falling leaves, a drop in temperature, and arguments over when it begins (equinox on 22nd or 23rd September, meteorological on the 1st, or traditionally known to occur on the 21st), the season no longer seems to offer the chill but crisp and sunny walks among crisp leaves it once did. I’m tired of hearing ‘it’s typical autumnal weather’ on the news reports when the weather forecasters speak of the recent deluge. Still, I cannot help but love the colours of autumn, in clothes and in nature, and the fun of Halloween. The weather doesn't always obey the dictations of my heart but still for me autumn shall always remain the best time of the year. For me, 'Tis the season.
This post is premature but there's a decided wintery nip in the air that brought to mind a memory of my night in a snow hotel.
The hotel build begins by blowing up giant balloons. They then compact
snow around them, and pop the balloons, leaving the hotel behind.
Then Chinese artists spend two weeks of the year carving fantastical
shapes in the walls of the rooms under an art project—the only way which
allows them to enter the country for the specified time for this
purpose. With the right lighting these carvings are truly beautiful. The
weather wasn’t right this time, leaving about 2 or 3 of the rooms
unfinished. Local people completed the work, in a simple Norwegian style
leaving them fairly plain. This upset a few visitors as the choice of a
room is a lottery. We were lucky—we got room 12 with a beautiful ship
on the wall.
So how does one sleep in a Snow Hotel? The easiest answer is
'carefully'. The beds are mattresses on a block surrounded by ice. You
don’t sleep on ice—that would definitely be too cold and impractical.
The sleeping bags suit up to -35 so are more than adequate for the -3 to
-6 degrees in the hotel. Also provided is a sheet (more on that in a
moment), woollen socks if needed—your socks must not be thin or wet—and a
balaclava. They also suggest you may wear your own hat.
So...to bed. Go to the toilet. Seriously! Even though we didn’t go to
bed until almost midnight, and were sensible, I still needed to get up
during the night. The information says you have to go outside. This is
misleading. What it means is you need to leave the bed and your room
and traipse along the hall to the door at the end that leads into the
adjacent main building where the restaurant, lounge, and shower/toilet
facilities are situated. You don’t go ‘outside’ at all. Still, as our
guide told us, you go through the 5 stages of grief:
Denial: I really don’t need the toilet.
Anger: Why did I have that last drink?
Bargaining:
(with God or whatever your faith) to please, please, please just let me
make it through the night without having to get up.
Depression: There’s no getting away from the fact I need the toilet.
Acceptance: I have to get up.
Getting up isn’t as bad as it seems. Getting into bed is another story.
The sleeping bag is on the mattress. Put anything personal and valuable
in the bottom of the sleeping bag. Visitors can keep an overnight bag
upstairs in the lounge, but be careful what you leave there. So in the
bag went my handbag including my phone, and the camera. Then comes
getting undressed. First the boots. This is where you realise you’ve got
to step onto the bed because you ‘must not’ get your socks wet and
everywhere is ice. Off comes the clothes down to the thermals. These you
sleep in. The clothes join the valuables in the bag's base.
Now, in socks and thermals, you need to get into the sheet. My other
half referred to this as a giant pillowcase and getting into it wasn't
easy. You’re trying to get into a sack on a wobbly base (the mattress)
trying not to step on ice AND get you and the pillowcase into the
sleeping bag. They had instructed us not to take the sheet until we were
ready for bed because they’d get cold; we’re thinking they’ve got to be
kidding, the sheet is cold because we can’t get into the bed! We
don’t see that it made a difference and think it would have been easier
had the sheet-sack been inside the bag to begin with. In the
demonstration they told us that after you accomplish all this, you’d
need to do some sit-ups to get warm. We weren’t the only one to say by
the time you get into the bag there’s no need to bother—you’re warm
enough.
At last inside the sheet inside the sleeping
bag, it’s shuffle around time, making sure the sleeping bag isn’t on
the ice and that the hood part is up over your head. On goes the
balaclava. Now we both tried to wear them, but I could not cover my
nose. First, I could smell soap powder and the scent drove me crazy.
Second, it just didn’t work for me; I didn’t feel I could breathe. We
wore our own hats.
We snuggled down and got the bags
zipped. Bedtime. The DH is asleep at once. In fact, all the men seemed
to do this and had a good night—the women all decided it must be a ‘man
thing’. I stared at the ship. I closed my eyes. I opened them, looked
at the ship. Closed my eyes, opened, ship, closed, opened, ship...you
get my drift. I could not sleep. They gave the sleeping bags out by
size but where the DH seemed to have some shoulder room, I felt like a
worm, cocooned as if I would emerge as a butterfly come morning; and I
reached a point where I couldn’t stand it. I wanted out, but leaping out
into an icy room and giving up after ten minutes wasn’t really an
option. We’d paid to do this. So the next best thing was to unzip my
sleeping bag a bit, pull up the sheet, make sure my thermal was up to my
neck, and the sides of the bag ‘around me’ and settle down. This time I
fell asleep.
I woke up at 2, just knowing I needed to get up. Now the trick is not
to go to the hassle of getting dressed. Put on your boots and coat and
go off in your thermal gear. Decent enough. Back to bed it’s a much
simpler transition of off with the boots, off with the jacket, and back
into the bag. As the sheet is already in place, there’s no problem.
We went back to bed and to sleep and the next thing I know the DH is
telling me it’s a quarter past six. I’ve apparently been snoring.
Whether he did, I don’t know. There’s been a lot of snoring in the rooms
and if you can get to sleep in the snow hotel, it's apparently a good
rest.
It’s a crazy thing to do when you think about it, but we’d thoroughly
recommend it...the once; there’s really no reason ever to do it again.
Still it was an experience we'll never forget, not to mention incredibly
artistic and stunning.
I know I’ve been quiet but then I’ve been away for much
of the time, and it’s a good thing to take time with the bare minimum
of electronics or none. Of three stops recently made, two with the family, the highlight was our
break in Whitby and not because we didn’t wish to see relatives but
because, if I had such a thing as a bucket list, I guess I’d have to say
Whitby would be on it. I fulfilled a longed-for wish. Ridiculous when
it’s in my country, and I find travelling more difficult now so wish
we’d done this sooner. Take advice — travel where you can when you can
even if it’s on your own doorstep and you ‘think’ you’ll get around to
it ‘one day’.
We booked through Whitby Holiday Cottages, but had I realised we
needed to collect and drop off the key from/to their office at
Flowergate, Whitby, I would not have done so, a fact I told them on the
questionnaire they provided to return with the key. I expected to
collect it nearby or from a lockbox which is far more common these days.
Parking in Whitby is a nightmare. The Endeavour car park is the nearest
at a cost of £3.60 for the hour, so dropping off and collecting the key
will cost £7.20. You may be lucky enough to park in the Co-op car park
for an hour at just £1 but I’m unable to advise that — it’s the shop’s
carpark and likely not appreciated. Though, if you need a few supplies,
this may be an option to do a little shopping at the same time.
Either way, after a long journey when tired and all one wishes to do
is get in and put the kettle on, collecting a key is the last thing one
wants to do and is little better when in a hurry to leave at the end of
the holiday. According to Google we could park at the property and walk
to the shop in 15 minutes. More like 25 at a clip, adding an hour to
getting into the place. The property… We couldn’t ask for a more
fantastic view. Alas, it’s the best thing the apartment had going for
it. Photos of holiday lets are similar to Estate Agent details:
misleading. The house is old — built in 1790, but it boasted a 4 to 5
star rating by Visit England. I’d say the place was average and I
wouldn’t award it more than a 3 star. On the first night the wind
whistled through the old single glazed sash windows so much I thought we
might freeze to death, but I could forgive this in such a distinguished
building that comes with a fire and central heating. Still, the
property could have been cleaner, and we discovered the electrical and
gas certificates were 2-3 years out of date and there were no PAT
stickers on any of the appliances, not a legal requirement but advisable
and something we appreciate in any place we stay.
But let us get back to that fantastic view:
We went up to the Abbey on our first full day, and the visit was
everything we hoped it would be. I took loads of photos in standard,
black and white, and sepia. The differences in these options is
surprising and the amount of detail still to see is amazing.
Whitby Abbey, though originally a 7th-century Christian monastery, later
became a Benedictine abbey. The ruins still overlook the North Sea and
is a major feature and attraction of visitors to Whitby in North
Yorkshire, England. I’ve heard the town called a typical seaside resort
and while in some ways this is true so would not usually appeal to me, I
found the town well worth wandering around. During our week we visit
Pannett Park with its rather bizarre yet intriguing museum and popped in
the RNLI lifeboat museum to support such a worthy cause. It’s a must to
buy a delicious smoked kipper from Fortune’s
which has been there since 1872. We enjoyed the proverbial fish and
chips, and spent a day hopping on and off steam trains choosing to
alight at Pickering and Goathland, the latter used as Hogsmeade Station
in Harry Potter and also seen in the series, Heartbeat.
We also spent a (rainy) day in York, perhaps most famous for the
Minister. For National Trust members I recommend a visit to the
Treasurer’s House — a site we found by getting generally turned around
and taking the longer route to, though it’s located close to the
Minister. We also walked part of the wall and bought some goodies from
the famous Betty’s Tearoom. If one wishes to eat there, I advise to book
as the queue is out the door. Try a ‘Fat Rascal’ — their version of a
scone.
We left a day early not because of boredom but because we met up with the family again. I'll leave you with the beautiful blue waters of Robin Hood's Bay.
As per my news last week, I’m delighted Big Finish Productions announded
my short audio story performed by Katy Manning featuring the eleventh
Doctor and companion Jo Grant (Jones) which will release in January
2020.
When Alfie Shaw approached me with the concept of the Doctor and Jo having more air time together how could I refuse. In fact, they wanted a story where these two might be stuck together for some time to come, and gone, and come, and gone…
Jo Jones is travelling. Setting out from London Gatwick to Mexico, she lands back at Gatwick.
Jo Jones is travelling once again. Setting out from London Gatwick to
Mexico, she lands back at Gatwick with the exact same crew and
passengers.
Jo Jones is travelling once again. Setting out from London Gatwick to
Mexico, she lands back at Gatwick with precisely the same crew and
passengers, again.
Jo Jones is travelling once again…
Available for preorder at £2.99. Big Finish also offer the 12 episode series bundle (TBA) at £30.
The chances are there will be times the writer will want to stop. Just give up the dream of being published. This has applied to me owing to some health issues and publishers closing. This is understandable, particularly if the person has spent many years trying without success. But what of those published? The worry doesn’t end there.
With the success comes, if not added pressure, at least pressures of various sorts. A writer may be only as good as his or her last book. We’ve seen instances where a writer gets lambasted because the creative vision that started a series hasn’t met the expectations of a majority reader vote. I’m not talking about good or bad writing — I’m thinking of those cases where an outcome differs to what readers expected, or a character dies much to the displeasure of many.
There will also be times when, as a reader, the writer comes across a book so brilliant, this leads to self-doubt and the question, “Whatever made me think I could write?” Never fear on this score. There will always be titles that make the writer shout, “I can do better than this!”
Sometimes the writing becomes a slog. A story isn’t going as the writer wants. The right words just aren’t coming to mind, or there’s a plot hole to work around. There are deadlines. The writer grows tired. The paperwork is a pain. There’s paperwork to fill out? Oh, come on! Paperwork? No one told me there would be paperwork. All this can bring down the writer.
The good news is no writer feeling this way is alone. The only advice I can give is never to make a hasty decision. Sleep on it. Wait, a week or a month. Start working towards taking a break. Take just one day off, away from books, words, computers, readers, publishers. Any or all these things, and many I’ve not even mentioned, can make a huge difference to one’s outlook.
Just prepare to feel the same way again at a future date. To want to just walk away from the whole labyrinth of publishing — and it is a maze — and find something easier to do (especially if the desire is to make a living), instead. And don’t be surprised to hear almost every writer has thought about giving up sometimes, either before success or even afterwards.
When I posted way back about Dragon #1 I said I wasn't putting him in
the garden. Alas, when I got a second one of the same type I ran out of
room. Loved this one because he's made of leaves.
Now I have two large metal dragons in the garden so I can see them from
my living room, but I may move them to a more sheltered spot, and will
definitely put them away in the garage over winter.
***
Not the most sophisticated of inclusions but this is my latest
acquisition. I got him at the Brecon Beacons National Park centre. One
of those instances where this little guy seemed to shout, "Pick me, pick
me!" And as a red welsh dragon was one thing my collection
lacked and I wasn't taken with any of the ornaments, I brought this one
home with me.
OUT AND ABOUT: Got away for a weekend which was a much-needed break and a test of my present health for which I coped well but not brilliantly. Saw the new and mostly disliked Tintagel bridge. A controversial topic to be sure. I won’t walk across it for three reasons, possibly four. On principal, because I want to use the old steps, and because it wouldn’t surprise me if it gave me vertigo. The possible fourth reason is I don’t trust it. Maybe more on that another time but for now, this is what the first section looks like. There will be a one and a half-inch gap between the two halves. Most locals and visitors seem to admit the design is out of keeping with the area and it cuts across the face in the rock often referred to as King Arthur’s face.
TELEVISION: Watched AFTER LIFE written by and starring Ricky Gervais owing to recommendation. With his share of successes and failures, this series shows the best side of his personal take on life. Though, at first, one could be mistaken for thinking he’s portraying a horrid character, the truth is he’s merely saying a lot of things people think but don’t say, a flood of dislike and brutal honesty from someone who is grieving. All six episodes need watching to understand the creativity behind the show.
I also liked Netflix’s series, DEAD TO ME, because of the way they present the story with slow reveals in a non-chronological order, constantly twisting what you believe about the characters.
READING: Please, Sir! Jack Sheffield While it’s true, these books get a little repetitive, after reading a few it’s hard not to get wrapped up in the lives of those at Ragley School. Charming and touching, funny or sad, and this one comes with a true cliffhanger.
The Living, Isaac Marion The last in the Warm Bodies trilogy, a far superior Zombie novel that I would have loved to purchase in print to add to the two titles I already own. Alas, postage to the UK and import duties prohibited this (I purchased the ebook).
My favourite in the series is, and shall always remain, the first book, a title which perhaps says enough, but this takes the exploration further, giving us a beautiful, painful, and sad view of the world. These books are about so much more than a horde of walking dead — it’s about life, love, relationships, politics, society, racism, religion to name the most obvious, though I’m certain that to each the books will have something different to say. With each title the books grew darker in context. The writing felt poetic, at other times surreal, but always undoubtedly philosophical, which perhaps explains why the author has had to self-publish the third title. This is the most literary use of the zombie genre I’ve stumbled across, one that would be hard to exceed, and therefore publishers may have feared its lack of potentially purely commercial value.
I won’t deny moments where the story lost its grip on me, perhaps because each of the books has a decidedly different feel and the tone of the third was different to what I expected, but the way the author writes, the world he’s created, the intellectual significance behind the books are too eloquent to ignore. Though I enjoyed the last book the least, and it perhaps has some flaws, it completes an exceptional story arc, strong enough to be keepers for me.
The Rosie Project, Graeme Simsion When I started this my first thought was OMG (the protagonist) is Sheldon (Big Bang Theory) but while it’s difficult for fans of the show not to see the inevitable similarities, it didn’t (as some people have pointed out) put me off reading but added another layer of amusement to the read. There’s a love story here with a difference. Intelligent, witty, throwing a light on human interaction in a way standard romances might not, this book is often joyful to read. I enjoyed this much more than I thought I would though the ending seemed a little rushed, perhaps explained because the book has sequels. I kind of prefer this as a standalone read but, if not for my to-be-read mountain, I might consider perusing the other titles.
Educating Jack, Jack Sheffield Another in the ongoing teacher series that I’m attempting to read through this year. Sweet, charming, and nostalgic.
The Funhouse, Dean Koontz A re-read as part of an attempted book clearance, this one was fun to revisit though in the worst way. I’ve said a few times that early Koontz books seem much of a product of the time in which he wrote them. The Funhouse, with its matriarch that would give Carrie’s mother a run for her money, and carnival monstrosities, is the most dated yet. This book is for those who like B-movies so bad they are good…which is exactly what this is as it’s the novelisation of a film of the same name, directed by Tobe Hooper. Never having seen the film I tracked down the trailer and even from the one and a half minutes of excerpts I can tell the book is better. Not a keeper for me but a nostalgic look back at 80s horror. Too much tell rather than show but my biggest complaint with the book is the lack of payoff. To me the conclusion was less than satisfactory and somewhat abrupt when taking the amount of backstory into account.
WRITING: Finished a basic edit of an older work, which doesn’t sound like much but it’s in a shape for me to re-edit/rewrite should I now choose to. Off on a break soon and when back I plan on starting something new though I’m not sure in which genre. Also signed the contract for another Lethbridge-Stewart book, this one part of a spin-off set of books heavily featuring supporting characters. Mine features Anne Travis, (now Anne Bishop).
I was a latecomer to the Dexter series and, curiosity piqued, I read
what I thought was a series of seven books. Turns out to be eight, and I needed to wait a short while for the publication of the last.
Annoying to a reader who read seven consecutively all the way through, but an interesting exercise in comparing the books to the show. At the same time, I continued to
watch the series and kudos has to go to the writer, the
producers, and Michael C.Hall for creating what should be a despicable character and making
him likeable. Michael’s portrayal is outstanding as a
great deal of feeling for Dexter Morgan comes from his performance. Not that
I’m forgetting the supporting characters cast equally well.
There are differences between the books and series—and I had no reason to worry about reading and watching simultaneously as aside from the first title the books approach a different tangent. There are as many similarities as there are differences, and someone can enjoy both without interfering with the other.
Having said all that, I will add something I rarely say.
I prefer the series. This is not to belittle the books or the writer.
Usually, I’d chose a book over a filmed adaptation or like them equally,
but the series lasted for so long it explored Dexter’s personality to a greater depth and questioned many more issues. The books are lighter, although the series portrays a serial killer who delivers a quicker and cleaner death. The books aren’t explicit but delivers a far different scenario—the Dexter of the books likes to play a little. What I disliked most from the books was the paranormal aspects added to one story
and the suggested evolution of the ‘Dark Passenger’. This appeared to
provide an excuse and a pardon for every killer’s behaviour. I also
disliked Dexter the most in book seven and in a way I’ve never disliked
the character on screen. Television Dexter developed, became far more
multi-layered than the book version. What’s not to prefer? Still, as
always there would be no series without the books, without the writer.
It’s too easy to watch television forgetting without the writer there is
nothing.
My current dilemma is, owning both the series and the novels, and attempting to be more ruthless with what I keep…do I abandon the books to the charity pile? I guess maybe…though perhaps not yet. Should I want to write an anti-hero sometime, Dexter is a character worth more examination.
The wannabe writer needs to ask an important question: “Am I prepared to never have such a thing as spare time again?”
Most writers work part time if not full time at normal everyday jobs just like anyone else and always will. Some writers will be successful enough to give up the day job, but a portion will never quite have the courage to strike out and leave that feeling of security. Other writers find themselves at home full-time, and for whatever the reasons will use that time pursuing the career of which they’ve always dreamed.
Working at a day job or not, there can still be demands on time — home, family, friends... hell, just trying to have a life. I advise to balance all these requirements. The writer who dives into nothing but work can burn out. I’ve come close and seen it happen to others. Trying to do too much can make it almost impossible to do anything.
Everyone needs some time off. That includes writers. The trouble with that idea is the one thing many writers struggle to do is to throw that switch off in their heads to ‘no thinking about work’. And by that, I don’t mean whether an editor’s got back with a yes or no yet or whether the latest edits will be tear-inducing. It can be very difficult not to think about the work in progress or even the next. Even when a writer has reached an aimed for quota if the work is flowing it’s hard to step away from the keyboard to think about such things as making dinner or going to bed and sleeping.
Another way to phrase the same question is: Am I prepared to work on the weekend? By that, I don’t just mean writing. Writing is no longer the creation of a story, sending it out there, sitting back, doing nothing but thinking of the next big project. There’s the writing (which can be difficult enough), the research, the submission process, working with an editor, gearing up for a release date, the marketing. All of which takes time. Time will soon be a precious commodity. And even if the writer becomes one of the lucky few who streamlines everything and discovers the right marketing that works, the creation process — those little voices in one’s head — can speak up when least convenient.
I’ve discovered that for many in the publishing industry — writers, cover artists, editors, company owners… Whether they have offices that shut the doors on the weekend or not, often they take work home with them. They may work from home — many businesses can survive electronically these days — but no matter how wonderful working from home sounds it can require far more discipline. Many in publishing work seven days a week.
There are those who insist they won’t work on the weekend, but it’s necessary to resolve such a decision. Even then, deadlines wait for no one. If the work is impossible to complete without working on a day ‘off’ then it’s important to prepare to work even at short notice. The writer soon realises that, just as with many day jobs, the only true way to ‘get away’ is to head off to somewhere isolated and take no electronic devices — just make sure the publisher knows the M.I.A. dates to avoid the court-martial.
Time off? I’m betting the writer will find it impossible not to take a notepad and pen to jot down those ideas that pop up during a conversation, at dinner, when lying in the bath, in the middle of the night. Become a writer and it doesn’t end, and if there is a few quiet hours, for many being idle will never feel right again, will feel downright unnatural. For even if when the writer completes all the editing, the marketing’s sorted, there are stories that require telling... and a small nagging voice will ask why you aren’t busy writing them.
Writing for a hobby is one thing. In publishing prepare to be busy. Prepare to be self-disciplined.
Comparing books with other books, and films with other films I find dubious. But what of a film adapted from a written work? Here I’m not comparing the books or the films but adaptations of two novels.
The Ritual, by Adam Nevill is the story of a reunion trip gone wrong when one of the party of friends becomes injured and they choose the shortcut everyone knows is heading for trouble. More than they can prepare for when they find themselves hunted and the family of ‘crazies’ living in the woods turns out to be the least of their problems.
The book is two halves. I so wanted to give it 5 stars, but I preferred the first half of the book to the second, and, although I’m unsure what might be a better conclusion, the end felt abrupt. What I love in this book is the atmosphere the author creates capturing my interest in a way many books of this type fail to and making the author one whose works I want to read more. I imagine several readers may say they’d prefer to know the characters a little more, which occurred to me on some level, but in a horror story it’s not always necessary to know these men are little more than regular guys doing their best to get by in their average lives and who don’t deserve the situation thrust upon them. A wonderfully atmospheric lost in the woods horror story.
The film has sequences not present in the book and though well worked in confused me initially. Likewise, as is often the case with a novel to film adaptations, the ending is not quite the same. All the story is present on the screen and the film has a good cast, yet none of the actors presented, for me, the characters as I perceived them, although a good point of the film is that they come across as average people leaving viewers with the sense anyone could fall into the same predicament. The film lacks the creepiness of the novel and feels rushed.
The Silence, Tim Lebbon. When explorers discover a new breed of a flying bat type creature, existance for every living animal on Earth comes under threat. An excellent apocalyptic thriller, well plotted and disturbing, tugging the heartstrings in all the right places. The simple writing does nothing to reduce the tension but makes this accessible for most ages from young adult to adult in part because two main protagonists of father and daugther tell the story. As a side note the film based on the book does not do the novel justice.
When I saw this was another Netflix adaption, I was…not excited but interested. Netflix make excellent series and films. This was a letdown of the highest order, mediocre. I felt no connection to the characters, not caring whether they lived. The only one I cared for was the dog. The reverend comes across as a cliche in a way he didn't in the book. And while such a threat of a unknown species might kill thousands before humanity got to grips with a solution, in part owing to the slow reaction and internal politics of various authorities, these creatures were not impossible to overcome.
Mentions of this being A Quiet Place wannabe or clone are unfounded as the book came out prior. However, in both cases the one thing that makes humans vulnerable to them — sound — would likely be their downfall. Create noise and draw them to a place where an ambush can take place (though one might claim the same for any zombie threat). The addition of the wood chipper in the film of The Silence, was ludicrous. Many films work better with additions, subtractions, or scenes shuffled, but not when doing so creates a fundamental flaw.
In both cases I read the books before watching the films so wondered if my reaction was biased. My husband read The Ritual before seeing the film, but read the book of The Silence after watching the adaptation. In both cases he felt the same as I. The film of The Ritual would have enticed me to check out the book but the film of The Silence would not and so damages the book. Whilst both films lack the depth of the books, the Ritual does a better job of presenting the story.
I should be able to spot a bad apple when I see one. I’ve used apples many times in my writing. It’s the ultimate symbol of temptation. As Markis asks Uly in the short promo story I wrote for the Swithin series, “Bite?” Here, I decline the taste of spoiled fruit.
If you’re wondering what I’m talking about head over to Dear Author and read their comments on a bad apple a.k.a. a bad book in this 2009 post. Though old it’s a prime example. I’m not suggesting you read the plethora of comments but I have to agree with those who feel sorry for the writer. This book and this author weren’t ready for publication and the publisher who put out the work harmed the person, their reputation, ebooks, and the writing industry. They did done no one any favours.
I imagine the ‘writer’ was thrilled. An acceptance is what every wannabe dreams of; that unequivocal yes, the vindication. Not only must she have felt devastated as a ‘writer’ but there’s no way such comments cannot be taken personally. Even if they didn’t heap praise on this poor unsuspecting person, the writer must deal with the flack now aimed at her. Maybe it’s justified but it shouldn’t have happened. She shouldn’t have to go through this.
Despite the poor writing there is a hint in the review that the writer had a unique concept. It doesn’t sound like one that would interest me but it happens. A story can be good but the writing poor. The writing can be good but the story poor. If I look back at what I produced when I first put pen to paper (and back then those were the only tools I had at my disposal, but that’s another blog right there), I was a poor writer. However, reading my long ago work I can see I was always a storyteller. With the right nurturing and guidance many poor writers can achieve their potential so I will not aim a personal attack at this unfortunate person. I can’t, however, call her a writer. She hasn’t been given the opportunity. As brutal as a rejection can be, sometimes honesty can be more helpful than politeness. If I were an editor and came across a story which I believed had a hint of talent, I would advise that person to go away, learn how to write, do a course if need be, and then try again. One major mistake many amateur writers make is that they don’t study the books they read. They have little concept of punctuation or grammar, or how to plot stories. Can someone be taught to write? I would say no, BUT one can be taught the mechanics. The storytelling is something more instinctual.
Alas, it’s instances such as this that lead to one bad apple spoiling it for the rest. Some may not know that epublishing has always carried a certain stigma, a bad reputation. Some liken it to little more than vanity press (companies who will publish anything at the writer’s expense and reap profits for doing no work) and it’s a valid argument. It’s valid because like any industry there are those who jumped on the bandwagon. They opened their doors with little intention of being much more than a vanity publisher, or they opened with the right intentions but no business practices behind them. Some were and are run by authors and that’s fine. Authors and editors have run small press for years and produced excellent work and launched many famous careers. Stephen King started in small press and even wrote horror stories for porn magazines.
The trouble arises when anyone opens a press with the mistaken belief it will be ‘easy’, that it won’t be as difficult — even more difficult — than running a normal business. Many were opportunistic, and it’s the good publishers and writers who suffer.
I’m not commenting on this publisher and cannot even take a guess as to their reasons for letting this work go to press. It only harms their business. I calmly crossed them off my list of possibles. I’m sorry if there is anyone out there that has had a great experience with them. If that’s the case, speak up in their defence. Let someone come forward to explain why such a poorly edited work made it into the public domain.
Epublishers aren’t the only ones to blame. Poor books by larger presses make it to print so ‘bad books’ aren’t restricted to digital formats by any means. Sometimes what constitutes a bad book is open to interpretation. It’s a lamentable fact that gives publishing a bad name, it gives certain genres a bad name, and it demoralises the writers. I am pleased to say there ARE good epublishers out there, every bit as dedicated as some who specialise in print. Many print publishers now border that gap having eased into the new technology. The sad truth behind epublishing was that to entice a readership to embracing this original reading material, they had to offer something different. This was the reason for the influx of erotic romance publishers. In time greater opportunities came about for those in epublishing. In the early days I didn’t want to be one of those who said CDs would never take off to replace records, though vinyl has made a modest comeback and it appears printed books are regaining their popularity. Still, I’ve always believed people should have a choice and I’m happy to hear of people reading no matter what the format.
I have always tried to choose my publishers with care. Does that mean I’ve loved every book ever produced by the companies I write for? No it doesn’t, just as I may not love every book put out by even my favourite authors. You can’t please everyone all the time, or even try to, but try to do the best job possible and scrutinise your work. I cannot guarantee my work will never go out without a typo, but I’ve spotted many a typo in books by greater authors than I ever hope to be; I detest seeing errors in any book of mine and always do my utmost not to write substandard. I don’t expect everyone to love everything I write. I write too varied for that to be possible. I just try to tell a great story and check and check and check my work until it drives me to distraction in the right way. I will always do my best not to hand over a bad apple. Please please please don’t throw away a whole barrel. There are genuine publishers out there and there are some fine authors in unexpected places.
When my first novel came out, one of my first ‘reviews’ was a less
than warm with approval private message from a reader. This person
claimed the book wasn’t bad for a first novel — the best thing the
reviewer said. I’ve since discovered that such communications are not
unknown, although I and many authors wonder why
a reader wants to contact an author to give them a bad day.
Fine, any number of books make even me grind my teeth. They deserve a
few of the negative reviews which stop others wasting their money
because it’s an amateur author and/or amateur publisher. Saying that, I
admit not all of my past writing has been exemplary but I wrote
according to demand and learned. My writing has seen vast improvements
mostly from various editing experiences. An equal number of those books
are in mainstream publishing and on bestseller lists. It’s a grey area
one might say. Therefore, most books I dislike I choose not to review — I
realise the story may not suit me but someone else may enjoy it
immensely. I wouldn’t contact an author with anything but praise or a
sensible comment. Even constructive critique (critique not criticism — a
subtle but important distinction) can be subjective and questionable.
It’s all ‘opinion’.
I also accept the book isn’t ‘my’ book. There’s no point writing to
an author saying one doesn’t like how the book ended. If a reader only
likes books with happy endings, there’s no point to rile against every
book that doesn’t have one. Better to read with more care, or write
the books one prefers to read. One thing I love J.K.Rowling said was
she’s not taking dictation. The work is the author’s vision, not the
reader’s.
Or is it?
There were changes to my first novel. Some occurred because the
publisher wanted a series from an envisioned one-off novel. I’m not
complaining. I loved my characters and we’ve had a long and happy
relationship. Some changes I wasn’t so sure of, but they were small and
we compromised. Other changes didn’t happen, but with hindsight I would
love to re-work the stories one day. The fact remains when a reader
reviews a book they’re not only judging the work of the author, but
often an entire team of people the author has worked with. I found that
first ‘review’ frustrating, not because the reader didn’t relish my
story (it was MY story, not hers and I still feel much of the problem
was the reader wanted more sexual content) but because some things the
reader complained of weren’t down to me. Sometimes, the failure (or
success) of a book isn’t down to one person.
A team of people have looked over the manuscript and the synopsis and
decided whether they want to handle a story before it ever gains
acceptance. Then the writer will work with an editor, and perhaps a line
editor and proofers. These may give input. Their jobs are to catch
weaknesses in the story, plot holes, typos, spelling and grammar
errors. Even those small things can cause problems. For example, British
spelling and grammar differs to that of the US (a subject for another
blog). On top of all the ‘rules’ individual opinions creep in, as does
house-style. I’ve had editors who want speech to be grammatically
correct, when that’s one thing that shouldn’t be unless it’s for
specific effect. I’ve had editors who do or don’t like contractions.
Editors who wouldn’t allow me to use a perfectly acceptable piece of
punctuation because the person didn’t like it.
But…but…but the book belongs to the author, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t the
author decide these things, or at least negotiate? Yes, but most
contracts will state the final decision lies with the publisher. When
contracting a book the title may be up for change. The author may or
may not get to approve cover art. The author seldom if ever owns the
cover art. Once the book is out of print, be it paper or digital, often
the writer can no longer display said cover art. As for the story… Fact:
many publishers will let a writer know along with the offer of a
contract what changes to the story the publisher wants to create a
publishable book — to ‘fit’ their market. Many won’t. Often, the writer
signs blind, and then waits with bated breath.
Even if the publisher specifies edits, that doesn’t guarantee an
editor won’t cut lines and paragraphs, doesn’t guarantee he or she
won’t cut whole chapters. Sometimes, the writer can complain and
negotiate. This should involve give and take on both sides…but,
remember, the publisher has final decision. With or without previous
agreement they can make huge changes to books. If the publisher decides a
chapter needs to go, whether they’ve forewarned the author, the chapter
goes. If they want an additional character or one removed or altered,
then it happens.
Saying that, any ‘good’ publisher will do its best to negotiate and
compromise. They will explain why they feel the book needs the changes.
Often, the reasons make sense. It’s painful for an author to have
someone point out a weak spot in a work, but if the editor can support
the argument, the author can grumble (quietly) and then yield to good
sense. Sometimes the author cannot see or doesn’t agree with those
reasons. I’ve had edits made to books that may best serve the
publisher’s market, but don’t serve my intention behind the story. This
is where creativity and business clash.
The writer wants to create. The publisher wants to sell. So does the
writer, but the story is all important to the writer unless they are
writing purely for commercial reasons. A publisher will follow the
market trends, see what sells best, and follow those leads, accepting
and altering work to gain the most sales. This is often why many
manuscripts get rejected, regardless of the writer’s brilliance. A
writer also needs good timing. There’s no point writing a zombie novel
when vampires are all popular and vice versa. Some books must await the
right time and market. Sometimes a perfect market doesn’t exist, and
it’s a case of tweaking a story to fit one that does.
It’s in the best interests of the writer to get in writing an
indication of what edits the story will undergo before signing a
contract. It’s in the best interests of the publisher to provide these. A
publisher is nothing without its writers, and should a writer have a
bad experience the publisher can guarantee to receive no more works from
that source. Some publishers don’t care — there are plenty of people
out there who want to write — but in this era of the internet and
information exchange bad reputations can stick.
Usually the mere mention of Tim Burton will put me in a cinema seat, but with the release of the live-action version of Disney’s ‘Dumbo’*, I hear that the film lacks the heart of the original so I’m thinking ‘not this time’. I’ll watch but likely wait until it comes to television in some form.
*(An oxymoron considering much of it is CGI, but so was Jungle Book and that was enjoyable.)
However, what it did was recall a memory I thought to share with you. Many years ago I worked with a woman who had a six-year-old girl. If I say watching films at home on VHS was still quite a novelty and DVDs were still to be invented for consumer use, I’m likely aging myself, but Dumbo had been released on tape and ‘owning a Disney film’ created quite a stir in those days. Many no doubt paid more for the privilege than the often 2 for 1 deals for these films today. Yet I’m talking about another historical event — If memory serves me correctly, this was the first showing of Dumbo on British television. Many of us rushed to set our VHS recorders.
The week after this big event I was talking to my colleague and asked what her daughter thought of the film.
“Oh that,” my colleague said. “I turned it off.”
Confused I asked, “What? Why?”
“She started crying.”
Even more perplexed I said, “So? At which part?”
“The bit with the mother swinging him in her trunk. I told her, so silly to cry over a cartoon.”
“But… But… But…” I stuttered. “I cry at that part too.” This earned me an incredulous look of derision. “It’s sad,” I defended my position. “And besides, now she doesn’t know there was a happy ending.”
As we all know, the whole point of Dumbo is to show having faith in yourself and taking chances can lead to magical outcomes, maybe not as enchanting as learning to fly, but had I not pushed through adversity I wouldn’t be writing. And I hope, wherever she is now, my friend’s daughter at long last saw the end of Dumbo, went on to great things, and maybe one day sat down to watch Dumbo with children of her own, all having a good cry. I hope you all do, and one way or another, let yourself fly.
Some days I don’t want to write. Not a day
off, but to GIVE UP the writing. I
know I’m not the only author to feel this way. I’ve discussed it with
others and we agree writers can sometimes ‘beat themselves up’ too
much. There are days when a writer feels he or she isn’t writing enough and is not a writer at all, maybe because it’s easy to feel it’s impossible to get
enough down on paper (or on the screen) in a day, or owing to a
thousand other reasons.
Some days rejection causes this mood. Some days it’s self-doubt.
Occasionally it’s stress, other things in life demanding
attention. Or the sun is shining, and the temptation exists to be out and
about, preferring to read a book instead of writing one. Or the writer may wish to talk to a friend, listen to music, watch a film, go to the gym, for a walk, cook the dinner. To do something, ANYTHING, other than stare at a blank white space seeking to fill it with words.
Words. I live with words. There’s seldom ever a silent moment of
peace in my head. When I’m not writing I’m struggling to find time to
read so if I’m not with friends or doing several demanding chores, I spend my time with WORDS, so many words, enough to drive a person crazy.
Sometimes rejection or a bad review makes an author throw up their
hands, cause them to wonder why they do this. Few ever see
true monetary rewards. Financial success does and can happen but most writers need a
day job. Most need to hit the bestseller lists to make the true writing
dream come true, and even then they have deadlines. That doesn’t mean
those who need to subsidise their writing or use their writing to
subsidise their life are failures.
It’s difficult to get
published these days, even more so than at other times in history in
some ways. Writers compete with music and movies, but also computer
games and the internet, even social media such as Facebook. Any
acceptance is a reason for celebration but there will be days, even when
things are going well, when a writer wonders why they do this. Life could be quieter, simpler, more ‘fun’ if they could just turn
their back on this insidious NEED to write. It’s infectious for many,
the need to write… yet that’s often the difference between
someone who IS an actual writer and a person who dreams of writing.
Sometimes wanting to walk away comes down to having too many things
on the go at once. A writer can feel unsatisfied. I once feared a market I wrote for would outgrow me, another would change in a way that didn‘t suit me. It’s why I’ve periodically followed opportunity rather than intent, though many reasons exist why writers have to do this. Other works I write to fulfil another part of me.
Here’s
the hideous and wonderful thing. Writers need to be open to possibilities. For me I find one style of writing, one
genre, too restraining. There have been moments when I’ve too many things on the go,
things I ‘need’ to work on, things I ‘want’ to work on, things lined up,
not enough time off and too other demands sitting on the sidelines. I
know writers who might have considered my list meagre, and I admit to a little envy to those who are prolific and still manage a
life. I can’t always do so, and the reason varies. Workload, health, emotional drive — all these things and more have an impact. The new writer may believe they can write when inspiration strikes but the ‘business’ of writing doesn’t allow for that. Long gone are the days when a novel once a year is the normal expectation of most novelists.
Everyone needs time for themselves. To curl up with a book, to snuggle with someone important. As
wonderful as being a writer can be, there’s always the risk of looking around one day and wondering what happened to life, when did it all rush by, and where did
it all vanish? Everyone risks this, creative people more so. Writing like everything requires a balance. I’ve yet to find mine and it won’t surprise me if I never do. If you want to be a writer, don’t assume the pressures of life, of finding time, vanish. Spare time becomes a nostalgic memory, and, for a few, the desire to stop haunting.
We’ve all seen it. A book we’ve loved that may have good reviews, but the reviewer hasn’t awarded many stars, which to the writer is confusing. Perhaps this is a question of personal semantics. I have my marking system for books. Five stars is for an outstanding read. It’s one of those I wish I had written myself. Four stars is for a book I’ve found exceptional. It could have been something about a character or the plot, but something in the book has made me remember it. I usually say it’s haunting. Then, where most people would think three stars is a mediocre title, I apply it to all the other good books I’ve read; the books I’ve truly loved and that will stay in my house, and I think worth anybody’s time of day. A three star review can feel like a letdown but truly it’s a decent rating. Two stars is for something I may keep but probably never read again. It’s one of those ‘if you’ve nothing better to do’ categories. One star I seldom apply because if a book is that unsatisfying I’ll likely never mention it.
Some sites, like Goodreads, have a recommended meaning for their ratings (there three stars is a perfectly decent score), and that can help, but I believe we all mark books based on personal expectations. This means the ‘score’ may not accurately reflect content.
I seldom give bad reviews for two reasons. One, I know how I would feel if it were me and two, I’m always aware that what I dislike someone else may well love. It’s all opinion. As a writer, I think sometimes it’s best to be careful what you say, but we all know there are some deplorable books out. Many on bestseller lists. I’m sorry to say publishing (especially in digital form) has opened doors for many good writers who may not otherwise have a chance, but many unscrupulous individuals have also seized the opportunity to set up as publishers and will take any standard of work to market.
This isn’t always the fault of the inexperienced author. Whether a person has the ability to write or not, without the right guidance they may never realise the difference between genuine talent and a gift that needs nurturing, though the truth is all writers need cultivating. An unscrupulous publisher will heap praise on the unsuspecting where it’s not warranted, and how is the writer to know? Please, as a reader or writer, one bad experience must not discourage, deter, or dishearten. There are reputable publishers out there, and there are excellent authors. Many of these books are as good as anything in print, maybe better. The format doesn’t change the quality of the work. Only the publisher does. When I give a review, I seldom award stars unless it’s where I must. I say what I think of a book and why.
I’ve received this query before so thought it makes a good topic. What is my word count? Do I strive for a daily figure?
A spinoff from that is to ask whether there’s a wrong or right way to do this thing called writing. Most courses and advice books will tell the writer to write ‘every day’. I believe this instruction is erroneous. Truth is, most writers work more than anybody. Many have day jobs, family, friends, need to do the washing, get food in, and clean the house same as everybody, but they write and see to those necessities that. Once you’re a writer, and once you’re serious, there’s no such thing as having ‘spare’ time.
I think writers need to make time. I’ve promised myself to be productive, but also to take time off...a subject on which I could fill another blog as I live in the vain hope of doing so. The point I’m making is that writers get sick, they get beyond tired, and can get exhausted. They get tired, annoyed, frustrated. Everyone gets time off — why not the writer?
Mostly because it’s difficult to stop our brains from ticking along. We can take a holiday and get ideas every day we’re away. Fine. Jot them down, just try not to begin the project. What these courses should say, and often mean, is that a writer needs to write regularly. For many writers this means a daily word count.
What that word count should be varies. I’ve known writers for whom 500 words feels like a huge number. Many settle for 1000, but for me 1000-1500 words feels as if I’ve barely got started. Stories often come as if I’m reading, the only difference is that the ‘book’ I’m reading from is inside my head. I need to ‘fall into’ the story the same way I do when I’m reading, forget time, block out everything around me. I often write from A - Z, page one to infinity.
At around 2000 words, I feel as I’ve put in a good day’s work. I aim for 2000 words a day, five times a week. Many have told me that’s a huge amount, but let me add that I’m a fast touch-typist. If the story flows (a big IF), it’s surprising how fast I can put 2000 words on the page. An average document in an office can be longer than that, and it wouldn’t take a professional typist long to transfer. If I have the time and the story is streaming, I have written more.
The most I’ve ever written in a day was around 10,000 words. I was on holiday, and I woke up one morning with a story fully formed in my head. I spent 8 hours typing, scurrying to grab drinks and a sandwich and taking bathroom breaks only when necessary, but I don’t recommend it, found it exhausting, mentally, emotionally, and worse of all, physically. Not a good idea to spend those hours sitting in a chair. Still, I have managed 4000-4500 words on a sunny afternoon feeling nothing other than accomplished. That makes up for the days when I’m unable to write.
It happens to most every writer. There are days I can stare at a blank page on the screen, and I’ll be lucky to write a sentence. James Joyce apparently once said if he wrote a couple of sentences in a day, it was a good day. So I may say I’m aiming for 2000 words a day, five times in a week, but if I get a day where nothing comes I seldom try to catch up. Sometimes I catch up naturally — a day of high-productivity can follow a torturous one — but I never push for it, because it feels too much like forcing the story. That’s not the same thing as trying to force oneself through a block. Sometimes the write must insist on sitting in that seat with fingers on the keyboard and lump it. That is often the contrast between a wannabe writer and one who has any hope of making a career of their writing.
It’s time to celebrate the 10th year of Women in Horror Month. Many may not have heard of it. Others may question why it’s necessary. Women writing horror are often under appreciated. Alas, it remains a fact some women and men writing certain genres are more likely to be passed over. Men have often written under female pseudonyms because of the perception men could not write good quality fiction in genres such as romance. In the world of horror the same mistaken impression often applies to women. I’ve heard the most common accusation being that women ‘hold back’ when writing anything bleak or nasty, a claim I refute. It’s a perception error that means many excellent authors risk being overlooked.
To those who’ve read my softer titles my interest in horror may come as a surprise. My appreciation began with the first horror book I found hidden away on my parents’ bookcase — books shoved together in no particular order, which to a booklover is next to sacrilege, but its odd, all black cover drew my attention. Had it not I may never have come across Stephen King’s SALEM'S LOT. The black cover revealed an embossed face with a single spot of red: the tongue. I’ve never seen this edition since.
I was of an age where I wasn’t supposed to read such a book so I squirrelled it away, read it under the covers, took it to school where no one ever asked what I was reading. Next I discovered James Herbert’s THE RATS trilogy and did nothing to hide my choice. In my teens I was reading Mills & Boon’s (because it’s what all the other girls read) along with John Steinbeck, Stephen King, and James Herbert. I’ve never looked back. My interest has wavered somewhat — I remember a period where I favoured fantasy — and I admit my reading activities have always been eclectic so my choices remain diverse, but the writing I love the most always seems to carry a dark thread. Though I’ve yet to finish writing my first horror novel, most of my short story work carries this darkness. As to why horror appeals to so many I’ve my own theories I may address sometime but not today in this blog. Today I want to raise a toast to all the women who work and promote in the horror field. Join us. Buy a book by a female horror writer this month.
Dealing with some life issues, busy working, and in the editing cave at the moment, so for your viewing and listening pleasure...
There has been much speculation and factual evidence documented concerning Van Gogh’s reported madness, including, but not limited to temporal lobe epilepsy, bipolar, sunstroke, hypergraphia, and lead poisoning. He wasn’t mad in the true sense of the word, but simply ill. I’ve also heard the suggestion that he may have suffered from some type of synesthesia. Vincent may have seen the world in bright colours leading to sensory overload. It’s painful to think that one man’s suffering led to such beauty, and essentially created the much-loved artist's work we know today. The words of this song are a fitting tribute, and a beautiful melody. A friend of mine loves Vincent's sunflowers, but my favourites are Cafe Terrace at Night, and The Starry Night.
A blanket of snow covered much of the UK last week. I love/hate snow though I dare say the same applies to many of us and the fun is over when it turns to ice. I remember visiting Canada and when they talked about the temperatures and conditions they face I felt embarrassed by how we struggle in the UK.
A friend of mine can be snowed in by a mere four or six inches. She lives at the top of a huge hill and no way can cars get in and out of those streets when they’re iced; she and many of her neighbours park at the base of the hill and walk up during winter. Bad planning on the part of the property developer. At times she’s walked out of her estate to take a bus… if buses are running. She’s been so cut off she’s trudged into town, hoping there are enough supplies, and carted food home on a sled. Every winter there’s often a shortage of bread or milk because of people stocking up. In some years this has left not enough for everyone. Some years shops have considered rationing, and I’ve never forgotten the year friends close to London tried to visit one of the large supermarkets only to discover it was closing the doors. They tried another and got told the same: closing early owing to staff shortages.
Fortunately, this year we’ve not had it so bad. Last year was worse. There’s a reason people and services are often caught out in the UK. We’ve gone from winters where many of us recall walking to school and disappearing into snow drifts up to our thighs (my husband used to tramp across deep fields of snow only to be told to turn around and go home; a health and safety nightmare nowadays), to winters that have for many years been mild. We’ve had several years without snow so local authorities got rid of the snow ploughs. Everyone has had to reinvest, including ourselves. We’ve bought good snowboots — the kind we can walk across a skating rink on and not slip. I make sure my husband has his in the car when he’s going to work as well as thermal gloves, hat, and scarf. I‘ve even made him wear a pair of my earmuffs when the weather’s terrible (though I gave him the plain ones, not the fluffy animal print ones I have).
Of course, it used to be we cleared our own drives, paths, and pavement out front. We didn’t just expect local authorities to do it. I can definitely remember my grandfather, shovel in hand, so why is it that street upon street these days there’s so much snow left untouched? There’s a good reason for it in the UK. Apparently, people are afraid to touch the snow on the pavement because if you clear it and someone slips they can sue you — a state of madness heavily discussed. The rules here aren’t entirely clear as this old article on the BBC clarifies: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/8443745.stm
Apparently, if someone slips on pavement you’ve cleared there’s as much of a slim chance you may be sued as there is if you don‘t clear your personal land — so drives and paths are the homeowner’s responsibility, but not the pavement. It’s difficult to decide the best answer — if the law stated we must clear the snow, this would cause hardship for those who cannot do so. And let’s me truthful — the days when people offer to do the ‘neighbourly’ thing for those who need help can be rarer than the snow.
Take two tablespoons of coconut oil, melt in a lidded pan. Once melted
increase the heat, and drop in 
We went up to the Abbey on our first full day, and the visit was
everything we hoped it would be. I took loads of photos in standard,
black and white, and sepia. The differences in these options is
surprising and the amount of detail still to see is amazing.
Whitby Abbey, though originally a 7th-century Christian monastery, later
became a Benedictine abbey. The ruins still overlook the North Sea and
is a major feature and attraction of visitors to Whitby in North
Yorkshire, England. I’ve heard the town called a typical seaside resort
and while in some ways this is true so would not usually appeal to me, I
found the town well worth wandering around. During our week we visit
Pannett Park with its rather bizarre yet intriguing museum and popped in
the RNLI lifeboat museum to support such a worthy cause. It’s a 
We also spent a (rainy) day in York, perhaps most famous for the
Minister. For National Trust members I recommend a visit to the
Treasurer’s House — a site we found by getting 
