The Divine Mr M

Percy Jackson

2010-09-07T02:47:00.002-07:00

Like most people I found the end of Harry Potter a little hard to deal with. No more books to look forward to. We always knew there would only be seven but the reality of getting to the end was something I didn’t really think through. Not until I held that final book in my hands and was torn between saving it or devouring it. I waited for a whole day. A day that I spent indoors too frightened to go out or turn on the television, petrified of the internet and any spoilers I might inadvertently come across. So I read it and it was over. Harry Potter gets some flack from a lot of different directions and I don’t care. I loved every book and I still do, like gazillions of others.

So that saga was over and there was nothing to replace it. A lot of book blurbs and reviews claimed that this was it , yes really, this book in your hand, this was the book that would be the new Harry Potter. But they weren’t and in the end I gave up and let the matter rest.

Then, recently, at the airport on my way to France, I picked up a copy of Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief. I’d seen a film trailer at the cinema and thought it looked ok, so decided to give it a go. I loved it. Couldn’t put it down in fact. Later I saw the film and that was a completely different thing altogether but I won’t go into that here.

From the start I was hooked. I loved the use of familiar myths and the way that Rick Riordan is educating as well as entertaining in a way that J.K Rowling never really did, for me. It reminded me of all those Sunday films I watched as a child and yes as an adult. Jason and the Argonauts, Clash of the Titans and many more. Some might call it a rip off I prefer to think of it as homage.

The protagonist is likeable and endlessly flawed as most teenagers, well most people are. I especially love the take that Riordan gives on dyslexia explaining that most of the children of gods suffer with this because they are programmed to read ancient Greek not English. It’s a whole new slant on that teenage day dream that these can’t be my parents I must come from somewhere else.

I’ve read the first two books of the series and the other three are on my bedside table waiting to be read. I don’t want to rush something this good. And that’s the best bit too. It hasn’t ended yet and I hope that Riordan has no intentions of finishing the saga too soon.

Writing and Spirituality? Rainer Maria Rilke

2010-06-22T12:44:00.000-07:00

I have been re-reading Rainer Maria Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. I must confess that the first time I read it it was all a bit of a blur. Something I always knew I should read. The first time I remember hearing of it, for my sins, was when Whoopi Goldberg mentions it to Lauren Hill in Sister Act Two. Not the most auspicious or intellectual of sources but it stayed with me none-the-less.
As I was reading in bed last night it amazed me the comparisons that the book draws with many philosophical thinkers. I have mentioned before that my friends and I are desperate to find some deeper meaning and enlightenment in our lives and as a result over the years I have read numerous tomes of self help and enlightenment.
It started with The Celestine Prophecy and the whole coincidence thing that comes with it, Everyday Zen, Channelling Auras, Tao Te Ching and Eckhart Tolle to name a few. I’ve dipped in and out of these books over the years finding what I’ve needed at that particular time and moved on. I am not the most disciplined or diligent seeker of truth but like everything else I do hope to find the time to do it properly someday.
Back to Rilke, it struck me last night, me being as ignorant as I am, that the words that he writes to this young poet are easily comparative to those of the now considered masters of spiritual enlightenment. There is nothing in this book that I haven’t read many times over the years and these letters are somewhat more eloquent than many others I have read, the man was a poet after all. His view on women and their contribution to society seem way ahead of their time and I can’t imagine these progressive, for the time, ideas having many fans in the polite society of that time. And it was his recognition that women would escape the confines of men that really fired me up. Was he a feminist? I don’t know. Before today I naively thought him a poet and a writer of letters.
Of course Google quickly informed me that he has long been considered a philosopher and Lady Gaga, someone I admire, even has a tattooed quote from one of his letters somewhere on her person.
'In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?'
Some say it is pretentious. I don’t know if I agree or think that she wanted to pay homage to something that spoke to her. I think prefer to believe the latter. It certainly is a beautiful question and one I am trying to answer in the affirmative.
So I wasn’t the first person to realise the genius of the man but at least I learned something and it gives me another common interest with the Lady herself.
Follow any of the links to find out more about the books on Amazon.

Hunting the Muse

2010-06-14T09:44:00.000-07:00

There seems to be a collective sense of restlessness around at the moment. My friends and I have been discussing it at some length. Everyone is feeling the need to expand their horizons and find something fulfilling that has nothing to with work, material things or consumerism. They talk of finding hobbies and seeking some kind of enlightenment. For a few lucky ones there is something concrete, definite that they want to pursue but for the rest of us we find ourselves flailing around hoping to chance upon that which will bring us the answers.
This, certainly in my case, seems to be the problem; the procrastination of it all. Thinking about doing something and bemoaning the fact that there is no time to do it. I’m lucky in the fact that I have a fairly good job that means I only work four days a week but that job also means I have more than enough work to do when I’m not actually there. Could I be more organised with my time? Well I’ve certainly made an effort this year and it seems to be paying off. So why is it that there still aren’t enough hours in the day? Procrastination again.
When I finished my first, as of yet, unpublished novel I thought that would be the start of a rushing flow of ideas and writings. It wasn’t to be. Nothing has come as fully formed as that first piece of work and as a result I grew disheartened and have only recently realised I am going to have to work much harder to get it done. I’ve a few ideas but none of them as solid as that first one and I can’t seem to decide which one is most worth pursuing.
In this, my dilemma, is at least something of an answer. Listening to my friends and observing myself I’ve realised that what seems to be lacking from each of our lives has one thing in common; the need to be creative or exploratory. None of us seem much interested in earning more money or getting ahead at work. We want to be creative. We feel that this is what will give our lives most fulfilment.
So as I sit with a new notebook in front of me with freshly sharpened pencils, a rather sedentary act to an outsider, what in fact I am doing is hunting down the muse. She/He is very reluctant to be found at the moment but I’m determined not to give up. I’ll sit here for as long as it takes, hopefully. I shall not be discouraged!
In the meantime these little blogs are words on a page at the end of each day and surely that means that the muse is at least within shouting distance just hiding away for now. Maybe they’re making me wait until I’ve paid my penitence for ignoring them for so long. I quite like the idea that I must prove my worth again. All very romantic and to some completely insane but you just never know.

Here Comes the Sun

2010-06-06T02:39:00.001-07:00

Summer has arrived and with it longer days and less clothes. It has taken me a little longer this year to warm up to the idea but it has finally happened this week and being half term I’ve made the most of it.
Drinking wine in the garden and eating bread, olives, cheese and salady things. Trying to be healthy and failing mostly but its back to work next week and if you can’t gain half a stone on holiday when can you?
Yesterday we cycled to a little country pub we know and sat out by the river drinking pear cider and eating chips; getting excited about our upcoming jolly to the south of France. It was an idyllic day and there aren’t enough of them. Everything has to come together at the right moment, the weather, the mood, the right friends being free. With this being the start of English Summertime I fear it maybe over before it’s begun. This is why the other half and I have made a deal to make the most of each day, for the second year running, weather permitting or otherwise. We did it last year and whilst everyone else was moaning about not having much in the way of sunshine we had a great summer that cost very little and was lots of fun. So I urge everyone to do the same. It’s all weather so enjoy it for what it is come rain or come shine.

Like Bees to Honey by Caroline Smailes

2010-06-04T10:29:00.001-07:00

I have followed Caroline's writing since her debut novel In Search of Adam was published. Her use of language and the way she plays with space on the page, fonts and dialect are unique and cleverly presented adding that something extra to each of her books. The page and the book itself are as much a part of the story as... well the story.

When I heard about the subject matter of this new novel I was excited to read it. It seemed an age from that first glimpse on her "magical blog" until actual publication date. The buzz surrounding this book was palpable. Everyone was excited! People were talking about it all over the web. Then it was released; and ahead of schedule. There it was, as I walked into my local Waterstone's, on the front table the first book you see as you walk through the door. The cover is marvellous! Better in the flesh than it appeared on the photos. Delicious and summery; smelling of sun, sand and the dust of Malta.

The whole adage that you can't judge a book by its cover, in this case, completely wrong.

From the opening page to the end I was hooked, spirited away to an island that before reading this book I had associated with churches and very little else. It is due to Caroline's delectable use of description that Malta is now on my must visit soon list. Over the years Armistead Maupin's San Francisco based Tales of the City and Mma Ramotswe's Botswana have inspired wanderlust and luckily I've had the privilege of touring California whilst the other I hope to see one day.

The sense of place, in this, Caroline's third novel certainly gives Joanne Harris' s France a run for its money. As for the characters, each are complicated and exquisitely drawn. A toenail painting, reality TV addicted Jesus, a northern lesbian ghost and an Italian visionary to name but three.

The protagonist's, Nina's, journeys both physical and spiritual are absorbing, emotional and unputdownable. This is a book that will stay with you for a very long time after reading. There is even a cameo from one of the characters from her first novel which I was most pleased with myself to notice.

This is certainly the best book I have read of this year so far and I think that the time for Caroline's popularity is about to soar like a jet plane on its way to a tiny island in the med. If you haven't already go out and buy it immediately; Like Bees to Honey can be bought here.

TEAM DICK

2009-10-22T08:09:00.000-07:00

Not being the butchest of people you can imagine my delight when confronted with the joyful task of taking a group of students on an adventure day. So what will we be doing? I asked with trepidation

Orienteering? Fair enough a bit of map reading I can handle that. Cycling? Well I cycle to work every day so not a problem. Climbing? Frightened of heights and absolutely no upper body strength. Raft Building ? In bloody October you’ve got to be kidding me.
The day arrives and it’s pissing down with rain and at least fifty below zero; well in my head anyway. The students are split into teams and I give them the task of giving us a snazzy team name. TEAM DICK was the result. The ensuing jokes about being head of the team and “one might call you Dick Head” were hilarious and I smiled enigmatically and took it all in my stride.

The activities came in the order I’ve listed and as the morning went on and we headed towards my own death by fright I began to wish I was somewhere warm. I really thought a career teaching Performing arts was about as far away from butch as you could get. I thought I would spend my day flouncing around calling people darling and lovey and I would have been bored within ten minutes.

The students we took were BTEC First; the kids who hadn’t done so well in GCSE’s because in the majority of cases they’d been ignored and considered trouble makers. In my opinion the best students there are. You give them some attention and praise then watch them achieve and blossom before your eyes.

I almost managed to reach the top of the climbing wall and the support and cheering was heart warming. They looked out for each other and they looked out for me. I could ask for nothing more.

By this point though we were bottom of the leader board and the task I dreaded most loomed ahead. Raft building. We lost three of our team to fright so it left five of us to build the thing and paddle it to the island. We knew at this point there was no chance of catching the other teams up point-wise. Did we give in? Hell no we rushed in and built our raft before everyone although to be honest it was more than a little rickety. We waited for the guide to check it was sea worthy but he didn’t he just told us to go. Confused I was sure he wasn’t going to let us risk life and limb without the thing being checked over by health and safety and pat tested but no. So we carried it into the lake sailed it to the island and it was only on our way back that the other teams got into the water. By the time we got halfway back our raft began to come apart. There was only one thing for it. We jumped into the icy depths and towed the bloody thing back to shore were it promptly dissolved. It had done its job and we were back on dry land.
We kicked arse in the way that only those with nothing to lose can do.

I’m knackered and sore now two days later but it was the best day and I got to wear my second wetsuit of the year (the first occasion being pictured above). I’m hoping it’s the last time I wear one this year.

The one where I get published

2009-10-15T04:16:00.000-07:00

In June I entered the Tonto Books short story competition which was judged by the delightful and delectable Caroline Smailes and am very proud and pleased as punch to announce that (drum roll) I was successful.

My short story Sleeping on trains will be included in the anthology Even More Tonto Short Stories. It’s in there with some very impressive writery people and I couldn’t be happier. Yay me!

How pretty is the cover?

Rusty not crusty

2009-02-21T10:38:00.001-08:00

I haven't done this for a while so I'm a little rusty.

Why start again? To be honest it is because I have a new laptop with all kinds of spangly new special things on it including straight to blog publishing thingamy jiggy. So i thought I'd go right ahead and give it a whirl.

I am coming to feel more love for this new laptop than I can manage most days for the long suffering boyfriend. He won't mind me saying that as he won't be reading this. No one will. Hehehe

I have to say the screen for this post is very wide and I haven't managed to get to the end of it once yet.

Well that's it for now I just wanted to see if it works. Blogger used to be such a pain in the bum and I was forever deleting posts and cocking it all up so if this works I might very well try and become a regular.

Sacrifice

2007-11-19T08:26:00.000-08:00

I am just about to reach (what I’m thinking of as) the magical number of words in my novel. That number is 40,000. For some reason it holds mystical connotations for me, maybe I’m thinking in these terms because I am writing a fairy tale for adults.

The total goal is 60,000 so that’s 2/3 of the way through. Up until now the most I have ever managed is 20,000 and none of it linear. I skipped around and wrote the set pieces I found easiest at the time. This one however is nearly 40,000 of continuing story.

It’s been a hard road. Not the least finding time to work when visitors and other commitments have taken me away from writing it and then I’ve had to endure a week or so of staring at the computer screen and writing one word an hour before I’ve got into the flow of it.

Over the past 6 weeks I have thought of nothing else. It’s been a fragile process during which I have read only children’s books and watched children’s films and watched no television whatsoever. Well maybe I will occasionally watch strictly come dancing. The reason for his is I’m easily distracted. I would really rather be reading than writing. I suffer from the most appalling book lust. I devour books as if I might be able to read everything before I die. So I’ve hidden myself from temptation and it’s worked really well.

Only thing is now that I’m in the last third I have a feeling the total will be more than 60,000 but I’m going to ignore that for now. I am trying to coincide my finishing with the arrival of Christmas. That way I can take some time off and all the books I have wanted to read have been saved up on my Amazon wish list and my partner will buy them all for me as Christmas presents and I can hermit for a couple of weeks and read, read, read.

I've been reading writers websites and they all say the same thing the important thing is to be there at your desk everyday. And I have. and it's worked...so far. fingers crossed.

It all feels like a sacrifice well worth making for the achievement of finishing a whole novel and gaining my masters. Would I do it again? If I got the chance yes I would, in a second.

New Earth

2007-11-07T08:19:00.000-08:00

Well it has finally happened they have maybe found a new planet and it is feasible that one of its moons could conceivably support life. Nothing definite yet you understand and the fact that it is 41 light years away and we don’t have anywhere near the technology to travel those distances I don’t suppose anyone will be in a hurry to pack.

What a coincidence that this has occurred just after Jeanette Winterson has published her wonderful yet frightening new novel The Stone Gods. Talk about timing eh?

I can almost hear the world’s politicians heave a collective sigh of relief. Well at least it’s possible that we will have found somewhere else to run and hide on if our planet goes tits up, as I have an eery feeling it will before much longer. Maybe not in my life time but soon enough. Anytime is too soon.

Winterson’s novel explores what it would be like if we reached a global situation where the only future left would be to set off and inhabit another planet. Of course the reason this would come into being is because we’ve pretty much destroyed the planet we are living on. Would we learn from our mistakes? Would we rape, pillage and burn a New Earth?

Well I won’t give away the ending but I certainly know what I think.

Now I’m nowhere near an expert on these matters and would never conceive of trying to argue a scientific point but I can’t help think; if we developed the technology required to travel those distances what damage could that do to the Earth? Look at the damage we have been told that aeroplanes have caused.

Can we be trusted with what’s out there? Are we reliable enough to take care and nurture what we may find however different or similar it may be?

Food Glorious Food

2007-11-06T09:44:00.000-08:00

A friend informed me recently that I live in the cheapest small town in the country.

I have bored her rigid over the past two months with news of my delightful bargain fodder.

No it is not, as you might imagine, because I have moved to a place filled with Icelands, Lidl or Aldi in fact it is quite the opposite.

For the past three years I have never lived further away than a three minute walk to my nearby Sainsbury. It has become something of a shock to those I know that I now have no idea where my nearest orange logo’d supermarket is.

Instead I have discovered the wonders of the local butcher, baker and candlestick maker. Scrap the last one and replace it with Grocer.

Hibberts’ butchers make the best homemade sausages this side of Clitheroe. In fact although not as much in the way of choice they are certainly on a par taste wise as Cowmans famous sausage shop and for me since it’s only a two minute walk from the house and not an hour’s drive you can’t complain. I shall be making sausages braised in red wine for dinner tonight. Their tomato and basil sausages (£2 a pound) fried gently then floured will be joined with half a pound of shallots from the grocers two handfuls of mushrooms and half a bottle of red wine. Seasoned thoroughly I don’t like to be shy with pepper and herbs although I have yet to figure out the point of the bay leaf , I always put one in though just in case it has secret powers I don’t know about. It takes an hour and a half to simmer in a casserole on the hob and the result is fabulous. The best onion gravy you’ll have in your life (well I think so anyway)

Since it’s sausage it has to go with mash so again from the grocers Cheshire potatotes (with dirt still on which of course I wash off) cooked and mashed with whole grain mustard, parmesan cheese and a handful of chopped spring onions. What more could you ask for on a cold November evening.

I’m loving the food here and I’m loving that it is the highest quality (sausages are homemade on site as is everything else) and none of it comes plasticized as it does in the supermarket and to top it all off it’s cheap as chips. The whole thing sans wine comes to about £4 and feeds at least four and it keeps well in the fridge too.

I am beginning to disturb myself by how much I think about food.

Yet surprisingly am eating less than I have done in years.

Quality over quantity, bring it on!!!

Making the most of it

2007-11-05T07:00:00.000-08:00

It would appear that winter has finally arrived.

I like this time of year. I can put the fire on and curl up early at night with a good book . The rain and the cold means that for the next five months or so i can stay in without accusations of being boring.

Right now th wind is howling outside and the rain is starting to spatter the windows. The dog has been walked, the leaves have been raked and there is a beef casserole in the oven. For the rest of the day i have nothing to do but write.

I would much prefer to be teaching but the job market being what it is in this area means there is little chance of that in the forseeable future so i might as well make the most of this quiet time. And I have been. I have been writing and cooking and baking and feel as if i've been sucked into an Enid Blyton book of my own design.

Am I bored? Occasionally.

it seems to me though that we rarely get lots of time to do the things we love so I'm cramming in everything I won't have time to do when I am finally working again.

I hope to finish my novel and I'm half way through so that's a good sign and I intend to make everyones Christmas presents this year for financial and creative reasons.

For all of you at work and thinking about the cold journey home and then having to get up in the morning when it's dark I'm sure you're a little jealous and I won't rub it in but i'm jealous to. I miss having somewhere to go each day and I hope it isn't for much longer.

No Broadband

2007-09-06T12:44:00.000-07:00

From the age of four all I ever wanted to do was run from the quiet towns I lived and live it up in the big city. A little clichéd I know; the stuff of rags to riches stories. I have to admit I never quite got my hands on the riches. But I did make to the city, London and Manchester but the latter being less than twenty miles away from the village I grew up in it never seemed to count. Less than twenty miles to the nearest city and it staggered me to know that most people from up my way and the surrounding towns and villages never ventured there.

Anyway I digress. So I made it to the city and I lived it large to cut a long story short. The quintessential gay city boy. The thought of ever returning to a quiet life petrified me. That was until a few years ago when the lives of Tom and Barbara Good began to look inspiring almost fateful. I began to dream about growing my own vegetables and flowers and buying Eggs and Milk from the farmers themselves. I have a very romantic and idyllic view of the country. Too much time reading Joanne Harris and the like. See my overall dream now is to retire to France do up my own farm house yada yada yada.

In reality the isolation would probably drive me mad so we, my partner and I, decided to take it a step at a time so we are moving to a village in Lancashire where we are near enough to the city in case it gets too much and near enough to greenery to see if it drives me crazy.

So far it isn’t looking good I have to wait for a week before I get broadband. There is no television ariel and I have had to pay an extortionate amount of money to have a phone line put in. I wouldn’t mind but it’s a new build property and it’s still only 30 minutes from Manchester by train.

As you can tell now I've posted I finally have broadband yippppppeeee

Why?

2007-08-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

Why is is that, even though, the CV has been around for some time it is still necessary to fill in an application form? Not only do we have to fill it in it must be done in ink. Since purchasing my first computer i have to say that my hand writing has got progressively worse along with my speeling. Did you see what I did there?

Come to think of it why does blogger make you type an capital I using the shift key. WOrd does it automatically. I find it a little annoying.

Anyway today my puppy did three wees on the mat and one poo. I have only had her for a week and this has been the best toilet training day so far. Fair enough for two wees and the poo i spotted her squating away from the mat and hurriedly shifted her. The final wee was done entirely on her own. She's a special girl and i have had no mopping up to do. (see there's that i thing again and it looks os untidy)

Well goodbye for now