You will have worked out by now that I’m useless at promoting anything.  I was of the generation to whom ‘showing off’ was the worst thing anyone could do, but… deep breath… I’m the Competitions Manager for the Association of Christian Writers (ACW), so I ought to be able to do this.

ACW Journalism Competition graphic
(c) Wendy H Jones

Anyone fancy trying their hand at a bit of journalism?  The ACW Journalism Competition provides a great opportunity to get writing about the issues you care about, and have your piece read by a real journalist.  Our judge is Sheila Johnson (JournoJohnson), an experienced journalist.  Christian slant optional.  For more information, visit  http://www.christianwriters.org.uk/competitions  You would send your entry to ME at competitions@christianwriters.org.uk .  Do give it a go.

What I do know,  from being ACW Competitions Manager for three years, is that entering competitions is a great way to get your work out there and read by professionals.  An optional critique is also available to ACW Journalism Competition entrants (for an additional £7 fee).  Competition managers want to hear from you.  They are not going to give you the ‘not right for us’ brush off.

If ever  (my Dear Reader is telling me to try saying ‘When’) I have a book to promote, it won’t come naturally, but I shall read my friend, Wendy H Jones’s, book Power Packed Book Marketing.  (She is also the author of the DI Shona McKenzie crime series.)  I’ll let you into a secret.  Wendy created the graphic you see above and wrote the Facebook/Twitter posts for this comp.   Thank you very much, Wendy.

Advertisements

Ultimate Writing Goals

Time for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group again.  We are a day early this month because some country across the pond is celebrating their independence from us on Wednesday, which is our usual day.

This month we’re asked  What are our ultimate writing goals, and how have they changed over time (if at all)?

Football (soccer) goal
Let’s hope England get a few in the net today, against Colombia.

Having a novel published has been my ultimate writing goal since I was a child, actually a quite small child reading Enid Blyton, and it hasn’t changed at all.  Have I achieved it?  No.  Am I getting close to it?  Well, that’s the scary thing.  I’m coming close to finishing my first edit of my novel and I suppose that’s one step along the way.  Ahead – long before my book goes on the table at Association of Christian Writers events – I have to persuade a publisher to take it on, or self-publish it, and… deep breath… publicise and market it.  Very scary!

If you’re wondering what the IWSG is and why I keep referring to it, it’s a blog hop for writers.  We post on the first Wednesday every month our own blog. We talk about our doubts and the fears we have conquered. We discuss our struggles and triumphs, offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. We also visit others in the group and connect with our fellow writers, aiming for a dozen new people each time – and return comments.

Football (soccer) goal
As it’s the World Cup, here’s a goal.

Wider Still and Wider [Cars]… in Land of Hope and Glory

Why are cars getting wider and wider in the UK, especially on narrow roads with passing places?

Path and river
This is a footpath in my village, close to the road in question, which is too narrow for taking photos, safely.

Driving my little Ford Fiesta up a hill in a narrow lane this afternoon, I encountered, first, a Range Rover whose driver squeezed past me with a pained expression on her face, and, immediately behind that, an even wider SUV.  At first its driver refused to move at all, looking ahead with a bored expression while I attempted to maneouvre further to the side – into the hedge, actually, my wheel sinking into a pothole.  Eventually, probably cursing my incompetence, he reversed up the hill into a layby.  Well, Dear Reader, being a polite person, I raised my hand to thank him, then continued on my way… for about two hundred yards, before realising I had the mother of all punctures on my front wheel…on a tyre I purchased only five months ago.  Rude words indeed.

Leaving aside damage to the environment, there are many good reasons for not driving massive crates on wheels, not least (or rather the greatest) being the price of Diesel (which they mostly run on).   And, having bought the heap, why do they have to use it on rural roads leading to villages they likely have no reason to visit?  To travel around rural British roads, you need a small vehicle, confidence – as your reverse gears whine in protest – that there will be a passing place somewheerrre… sooooon… and good manners.

Kettlewell, Yorkshire
Kettlewell, Yorkshire

Roads are also narrow, with passing places, in Wharfedale, Yorkshire, where I was last weekend,  attending the Association of Christian Writers‘ annual Writing Weekend at Scargill House.  On our way we had to wait ten minutes for a herd of sheep to cross the road.   As always, our speakers were the amazing Adrian and Bridget Plass. It was great immerse myself in writing for forty-eight hours and to be alongside so many other wonderful writers, some published and well-known, and some not (like me).  One day, I WILL have my novel on the table at the back of the seminar room, with the others.  I came away feeling very enthused, wanting to write this and to try that… only to be engulfed, immediately, by work and ordinary life on my return.  Sad!

 

British Values

Cup of teaWhat better day to be writing about British Values than the day England beat Panama 6-1 in the World Cup?  That Harry Kane is the only player that seems to be able to score is another matter!  Also, next, we’re playing Belgium, the favourites.  Ho-hum.

Over the past year or two, British Values has been foisted upon the school and college curriculum.  Along with Prevent, it’s one of our defence mechanisms against terrorism, but most teachers and college tutors hate them and not just because they take up valuable teaching time.   The problem is that the British, embarrassed about their colonial past, feel uncomfortable even about the word ‘British’.  We’re the UK now and Brits (a derogatory term used about us, incidentally, by the IRA) .  Except that we do love a royal occasion (a royal wedding, for instance), our football team, Andy Murray at Wimbledon and singing Land of Hope and Glory and Rule Britannia at the Last Night of the Proms.

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, Enid Blyton’s Famous Five understood British values (with a small v) very well:  being ‘jolly decent’, not being a ‘cry baby’, fairness, not telling fibs and… well, not talking about any of these things very much.  Things have moved on a lot since those days.  Like it or not, we’re part of a diverse and global society.

So what brought this on?  Today, I had to read and invigilate for students with literacy problems who were taking Gateway British Values exams.  I have to admit that, beforehand, I was very sniffy about it, but – you know what – when I read the questions I changed my mind.  Young people need to know, for instance, that at a General Election we elect Members of Parliament, not local councillors.  When I do my poll clerk duty, too many people come into our polling station not really knowing what’s going on and many more, I’m sure, stay away.  They need to be reassured that MPs are elected, that they don’t pay to get into Parliament and they’re not appointed.   How did I assimilate these things?  My born-in-Britain parents explained them to me.  A lot of kids in this country won’t have this privilege.

So what are the real, modern British values?  It’s really difficult to say because there are a lot of us Brits, living in different regions, from different cultures, in different income brackets and doing different things, but I’ll make a stab at it.

  • Sill, we’re reserved.  We cultivate hugging and kissing each other, but most of us secretly hate doing it, and  we don’t meet people’s eye when we walk along the street.
  • We queue.   Don’t you dare push in!  You will told to go to the back in no uncertain terms.  If, somehow or other, you get to the front before you should have in error, you wave ahead the people who should have been attended to first.
  • We don’t value education.  (We can’t be bothered to put in the effort.)
  • We’re lazy about learning foreign languages.
  • British people speak in many diverse regional accents.
  • We resent people who are successful.
  • We behave badly when abroad.  (But not as badly as some nationalities.)
  • We drink tea with milk.
  • We feel we’re entitled to a certain standard of living.  When we don’t get it (for instance, if there’s a power cut or we can’t get a phone signal), we whinge.
  • We don’t value religion.  (But many people who profess not to believe in God swear ‘Oh my God’ or say things like ‘I hope and pray that…’)
  • We don’t look out for each other as we should.  We don’t like to interfere, or get involved.
  • We’re embarrassed about being British.  We don’t like to say anything good about ourselves.

Book Titles or Character Names – Which is Harder to Come Up With?

Insecure Writers Support Group day!   I have had a piece of work accepted, in the Association of Christian Writers’ Christmas Anthology – hurray.  I should say that louder (write it louder?), even though I have had little opportunity to write since my last IWSG post.  Same old four-letter word – w-o-r-k.  It’s high season in the education-world, with exam invigilation and sampling learners’ assignments for an awarding body.

So, on to the optional question:  What’s harder for you to come up with, book titles or character names?  I’m better at finding character names; I enjoy devising exactly the right name for the right character, even though I sometimes change them.  When I say right, I mean appropriate for when he/she was born, where he/she was living and in which social class.   It annoys me when writers don’t do this, giving young characters old fashioned names or older characters names which weren’t in usage at the time they came into the world.  I sometimes change characters’ names as they and their circumstances develop, or because, as in my current novel – which I can’t get round to finishing off – too many of them begin with one letter, in this case M.

Titles, I’m no good at.  My WIP has the working title ‘And the Wall Came Tumbling Down’ and I think of it as the ‘Wall’, but this moniker is no longer appropriate for the story.  I will have to think of something else.  I once wrote a short story entitled (published in Circa, btw) which originally rejoiced under the heading ‘Anna The Dissident Appears on Television’, but the television bit didn’t work.  I tried very hard to make it work, because I liked the wacky title, but it had to be just ‘Anna The Dissident’.  A writer cannot be imprisoned by a title, however catchy and clever.

Nothing to See Here

I’ve not been around these last few weeks, in body, or mind or spirit.  I was on holiday in Romania at the beginning of the month, then babysitting, and, all the time, fitting in the four-letter word – work.  I have been working flat out since I returned from Eastern Europe, teaching, invigilating and verifying (checking the work of other teachers, to make sure they’ve got it right).  Two of my jobs are at their peak periods, and I have been glued to my computer for whole days, with concomitant RSI headaches.

I haven’t had time to think, let alone write.  Work and other commitments can push out everything else out of your mind.  I have a few ideas for stories in my mind, but no time to get them down.  I did create a mood board for a story at one point.  Is this the way forward for me who doesn’t plan, and finds planning daunting, to the point of stifling, snuffing out, creative ideas?

So, I have little to say, just a few observations of everyday life in twenty-first century Britain, which I would be very grateful to know about, if I were a writer writing about twenty-first century Britain a hundred years hence:

  • In households where children have (at some point in their lives) attended a fee-paying school, long whole school photos are displayed in the downstairs loo.
  • When a husband and wife travel together in their car, he drives and she sits in front seat beside him as a passenger – mostly.
  • When the husband and wife have guests, the husband drives but the husband of the visiting couple sits in the front passenger seat, and the two wives sit in the back seat.
  • When people at work make coffee and tea in their offices or staff rooms, the tea making table is always disgustingly dirty:  unwashed cups, used repeatedly, often stained brown, smeared on the outside rim;  coffee and tea rings, some wet, some dry and of longstanding, on the grubby tray;  one (if you’re lucky, two) teaspoons, with little pools of tea of coffee/tea in the bowl.  The office fridge is similarly filthy containing: yoghurts many months old with bulging, swollen lids; plastic cartons of milk so it’s deliquesced into grey watery fluid; grains of dried-up spilt milk at the bottom.

Also, have you noticed how we’re all saying ‘Nothing to see here’ nowadays?

Yesterday was Dracula Day, apparently, so the pictures above are of Bran Castle (supposedly Dracula’s castle).  Was it frightening?  Not very, more National Trust than scary.

We Are Attracted to Evil – Aren’t We?

Wicked used to be the highest compliment a young person could pay to anything or any person.  We fiction-readers, of all ages, are also attracted to evil, aren’t we?

One of the most popular films of all time, The Godfather, concerns one of the most violent and evil organisations of all time, the Mafia.  (Don’t ask me for statistics – too late, and I’ve just arrived back, this evening, from a short break in Romania.)  Saddam Hussein watched The Godfather repeatedly.

bucharest_parlt_outsideYesterday, we were shown around the Parliament Building in Bucharest.  The original destiny of this massive edifice, the second-largest administrative building  in the world, constructed almost solely of marble, was to be a palace for the Communist dictator, Nicolae Ceaușescu.   Begun in 1978, he planned every minute detail, even the echo of the deputies’ applause for the room in which he intended to sign documents.  He included two grand staircases from which he and his wife, Elena, could descend when greeting dignitaries. Meanwhile, the Romanian people queued for their miserable food rations. bucharest_staircase

bucharest_room

We tourists hung on to our guide’s every word, begging him for more detail lapping up the wickedness, savouring the story of Ceausescu’s come-uppance in 1989, which involved helicopters and betrayal by his pilot, a two-hour show-trial and shooting, and his and his wife’s bodies being displayed on television.

You can’t write fiction about liberal democracy, can you?  Too boring.

By the way, I’m hoping to write more about Romania on my travel blog, Travel On, in the next few days.

Spring? What Spring?

iwsg300Spring?  No spring here, but time for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

Spring is not a good time for writing.  There are too many distractions, the lure of sunshine, warm weather and the great outside.  As I sit at my computer, I see the weeds rising up through the window and, eventually, feel compelled to ‘do something about the garden’ or, on seeing cobwebs, spring cleaning.

Two weeks ago, we had a short, premature burst of summer, but winter has resumed at full blast.  I started writing this post on the last day of April, wearing my thick winter trousers and two t-shirts and a jumper.  Outside, a gale was howling and rain coming down in buckets.  That evening, we lit a log fire.  Aah!  That’s writing weather.

Over the winter I have made slow progress on The Novel, but at least I’ve made some progress.  When I start writing – anything – I’m very excited, quite certain that this must surely be a great work of literature, even though there may be… just one or two things to be ironed out.  Unfortunately, though, the more I write and edit my novel, the more insecure I become about it, the more glitches I can see, even though I’ve fixed many, many inconsistencies, plot-holes and character holes.   The story itself and the characters seemed great, until I started writing.  I could never compare myself and my writing to Michelangelo (the sculptor, not the Mutant Hero Turtle) but I love the quote below (thanks to Brainy Quote).

michelangelo1

 

 

 

Writing All Five Senses

I have to write a 500-750 word piece invoking all five senses, for my writing group next month.  Actually, I suggested this task.  Was I mad?

Primroses, yellow and pinkIt is considered good practice to reference all five senses in most pieces of writing, but it’s not easy.  Consider, for instance, the primroses in my garden.  I can wax lyrical about pale yellow and pale pink petals, but how do I get you to visualise them, Dear Reader? Giving you the photo is cheating on my part.  Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words was all too right.  I could liken them to rhubarb and custard perhaps?   No, no, you’re laughing now.  Clearly,  I haven’t struck the right note.

Cup of teaLet’s start again.  Take my cup of tea.  I can do all five senses with my cup of tea:Cup of Tea With Bubbles Around the edge.

Sight –  The mid-brown colour shows that it’s a nice strong brew.  When I poured the milk into the cup, for a moment, it circled around in white swirls.  Also, do you see the bubbles around the edge of the mug?

Sound – Gurgling of the kettle, the clink-clink of crockery,  welcome and reassuring sounds.  Tea, in particular, has emotional connotations.  Tea and sympathy.  Everything stops for tea.  There’s nothing that can’t be solved with a cup of tea.

Feel – Hot, cold or luke-warm.  Wet.

Taste – Bitter, lingering on my tongue, or milky and insipid.

Smell – Although finer varieties of tea do have an aroma, bog-standard, red label, tea has hardly any fragrance, although the drinker will feel steam rising up around his/her face.

Not much to say about tea, then?  Actually, in my opinion, there’s enough – for a mere cup of tea.

I find it easier to describe something that’s been done badly, or inappropriately.  I could rant about tea made with not-quite-boiling water, drawing attention to its grey colour, and likening its feel to a dirty dishcloth.  Or make you sweat by making you read about tea being served on a beach during a heat wave.

For me, the terrible describer, a mental senses checklist is a helpful prompt.  The point of descriptions is to bring a scene, a setting or an object to life for the reader, so it makes sense to address all his/her faculties.

Have a good week.  Term starts tomorrow and I’m exhausted just thinking about it.  I could attempt to describe tiredness but I haven’t got the energy to do it.