Hello everyone
I have a little writing quirk I'd like to share with you. I can't write unless I have Batty with me. He is a small, plastic vampire bat and was given to me by my son about 20 years ago. I thought he was cute, so put him on my desk and that days writing was amazing. The words just flew from brain to hand to pen, I achieved so much in such a short space of time.
The next day was hot and sunny so I wrote in the garden, Batty didn't come with me (I'd kind of forgotten about him by then) and my words died on the page. I struggled to form even a basic sentence. After putting it down to a bad day, I gave up. The next day was wet, as is usual with our weather, so I wrote at my desk with Batty watching over me and the words came alive.
I looked at Batty. Could it be possible that he was somehow responsible? Was he a lucky bat? For the next week I kept him in my pocket whenever I wrote and the words just danced ; plot ideas fell into place, situations I'd been struggling with became clear and I wrote prolifically.
My mind told me Batty was the reason. Somewhere within the whorls of my brain, Batty had been attributed with magic powers. He knows all my stories and helps with plot and structure. I'd never be without him, fearing my writing would shrivel and die without his assistance.
But now I think I may have picked up another quirk, quite by accident. I'd just washed my hair and was sitting in the sun drying it while I wrote, but the breeze was blowing the shorter bits into my face. I need a hairband, I thought, but all I could find at the time was my granddaughter's cat ears band, so I put it on and yes, you've guessed it, my writing sparkled. It was like my fingers had been possessed by a demon, I couldn't get the words down fast enough; the power of Batty had been magnified.
So is it simply association? I would have had a good writing day without Batty or the cat ears or does it go deeper. The power of suggestion on a susceptible mind, something tells me I'll never know. I'll keep you posted on my crazy ideas.
I'd also like to know if anyone else has any little quirks or rituals they have to carry out before they do specific things. Do you have lucky socks? Or a special charm that appears to have magical properties (my friend has a parking angel in her car) You never know, there might be a story in it. Until next time, enjoy your little idiosyncrasies, they could be beneficial.
Tuesday 27 May 2014
Wednesday 14 May 2014
A Potential Home
Hello fellow writers
While flicking through my recent copy of Writing Magazine, I turned to the markets section and found a little gem; a possible home for my novel. It was a half page advert for a publishing company called Tiger Stripes. They mainly publish children's and YA books, but they have just launched a new imprint called Red Eye, which is full on horror and the best bit . . . they are open to submissions.
I checked out their website and guidelines and they sound perfect, just what I'm looking for. I was tempted to contact them straight away, but then stopped myself as I have two major problems, the first being that the book isn't finished yet, and the second is I'm afraid. Yes, you read that right, I'm scared.
1. What if they like it?
2. What if they don't?
Lets tackle number one first; If they like it and want to see it, that's great, but what if they accept an unfinished novel; I'd be forced to meet a deadline and with work commitments and shift patterns, I'm not sure I could deliver on time and what happens if my imagination dries up and I can't finish it?
2. What if they don't like it. My creation is slapped with rejection and I have to endure the feelings that go with it. Maybe no-one will like it, maybe I'm just kidding myself and I have no talent.
All these things are racing through my mind. I know there are plenty of other publishers out there, so maybe I should just leave it and finish the book first; I am writing frantically, but any advice on the matter would be very much appreciated. I don't want to miss the boat, but I don't want to jump aboard too quickly and watch it sink without trace.
While flicking through my recent copy of Writing Magazine, I turned to the markets section and found a little gem; a possible home for my novel. It was a half page advert for a publishing company called Tiger Stripes. They mainly publish children's and YA books, but they have just launched a new imprint called Red Eye, which is full on horror and the best bit . . . they are open to submissions.
I checked out their website and guidelines and they sound perfect, just what I'm looking for. I was tempted to contact them straight away, but then stopped myself as I have two major problems, the first being that the book isn't finished yet, and the second is I'm afraid. Yes, you read that right, I'm scared.
1. What if they like it?
2. What if they don't?
Lets tackle number one first; If they like it and want to see it, that's great, but what if they accept an unfinished novel; I'd be forced to meet a deadline and with work commitments and shift patterns, I'm not sure I could deliver on time and what happens if my imagination dries up and I can't finish it?
2. What if they don't like it. My creation is slapped with rejection and I have to endure the feelings that go with it. Maybe no-one will like it, maybe I'm just kidding myself and I have no talent.
All these things are racing through my mind. I know there are plenty of other publishers out there, so maybe I should just leave it and finish the book first; I am writing frantically, but any advice on the matter would be very much appreciated. I don't want to miss the boat, but I don't want to jump aboard too quickly and watch it sink without trace.
Tuesday 6 May 2014
THE EXTRA PASSENGER
Carrying on from last time when I spoke about horror, I've had a weird experience of my own. I brought a second hand car few years ago as my little black one died. This one is a bright red Yaris and although she's ten years old now, touch wood, I've never had any trouble from her; her name's Ruby by the way, except that I seem to have an extra passenger.
When I'm in the car by myself, going to pick up friends or family, whoever I'm collecting will always say, 'who was that sitting next to you,' when I get out. Even my grand daughter Chloe kept looking for my 'friend' when I picked her up. I told her I was alone in the car, but she insisted there was someone sitting next to me in the passenger seat.
Also, when I've been driving home from work after a late shift, I've heard whispering from the back seat. (Kinda makes me think of Steven King's Christine.) but she hasn't tried to kill anyone yet, as far as I know.
She wasn't the usual type or colour of car I would normally go for, I prefer black to fire engine red, but as I'd just lost my mum Kathleen and the car I was looking at came from Kathleen road in Southampton and the lady selling it was called Joan, my mum's middle name, I took it to be a sign. I just felt drawn to it when I saw the picture, weird eh.
Maybe mum's coming along for the ride, I don't know. I've never seen anyone sitting next to me,(that's probably a good thing) although I do feel the urge to check the rear view mirror quite often, as it feels like someone's watching me from the back seat, I just wonder who my spectral passenger is?
Car's aside, weird things happen at work too. I, along with most other staff, have seen he shades of dead residents shuffling into their rooms, call bells ring in empty rooms, doors slam on the top floor and the lift goes up and down on its own, especially at night. Myself and a colleague even herd a resident call for a nurse, even though said resident had been dead for the past three days.
I am a firm believer in life after death, to me, ghosts are real, I've seen too much not to believe (either that or I', just crazy) I saw my first ghost when I was six at my nan's house, he was about the same age as me and was sitting in the kitchen. We used to chat, but I can't remember an actual conversation with him. I saw another one when I was eight or nine. My cousin came on holiday with us to pevensy bay and this little girl used to tap on the window and call us to come out and play, but my cousin said there was no one there and that I was making it up to scare her and she wanted to go home; her dad came and got her and I was told off. The ghost girl came back that afternoon and I followed her, but when I got outside she'd gone.
That about sums it up for this week. Maybe the childhood ghosts helped to cement my love of horror and the supernatural, I don't know, they certainly roused my curiosity and started a lie long passion.
When I'm in the car by myself, going to pick up friends or family, whoever I'm collecting will always say, 'who was that sitting next to you,' when I get out. Even my grand daughter Chloe kept looking for my 'friend' when I picked her up. I told her I was alone in the car, but she insisted there was someone sitting next to me in the passenger seat.
Also, when I've been driving home from work after a late shift, I've heard whispering from the back seat. (Kinda makes me think of Steven King's Christine.) but she hasn't tried to kill anyone yet, as far as I know.
She wasn't the usual type or colour of car I would normally go for, I prefer black to fire engine red, but as I'd just lost my mum Kathleen and the car I was looking at came from Kathleen road in Southampton and the lady selling it was called Joan, my mum's middle name, I took it to be a sign. I just felt drawn to it when I saw the picture, weird eh.
Maybe mum's coming along for the ride, I don't know. I've never seen anyone sitting next to me,(that's probably a good thing) although I do feel the urge to check the rear view mirror quite often, as it feels like someone's watching me from the back seat, I just wonder who my spectral passenger is?
Car's aside, weird things happen at work too. I, along with most other staff, have seen he shades of dead residents shuffling into their rooms, call bells ring in empty rooms, doors slam on the top floor and the lift goes up and down on its own, especially at night. Myself and a colleague even herd a resident call for a nurse, even though said resident had been dead for the past three days.
I am a firm believer in life after death, to me, ghosts are real, I've seen too much not to believe (either that or I', just crazy) I saw my first ghost when I was six at my nan's house, he was about the same age as me and was sitting in the kitchen. We used to chat, but I can't remember an actual conversation with him. I saw another one when I was eight or nine. My cousin came on holiday with us to pevensy bay and this little girl used to tap on the window and call us to come out and play, but my cousin said there was no one there and that I was making it up to scare her and she wanted to go home; her dad came and got her and I was told off. The ghost girl came back that afternoon and I followed her, but when I got outside she'd gone.
That about sums it up for this week. Maybe the childhood ghosts helped to cement my love of horror and the supernatural, I don't know, they certainly roused my curiosity and started a lie long passion.
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