Kindness is a beautiful thing and something that should not be sniffed at. I have experienced kindness to a beautiful level over the past 6 months.
I have just left a house lived in by the most amazing family. Not only had they given me a roof over my head when I really needed it, they continued to show amazing support and love for the whole 6 months I was there.
It's perhaps for this reason that I find myself, having moved out only two days ago, feeling somewhat lost and sad, realising that their continuing love, support, music and laughter will not be something I get to experience on a daily basis.
No longer will I be able to come home from work and find The-Five-Year-Old running to the door to give me a massive hug when I enter the house. No longer will I be able to sit at the piano with The-Fourteen-Year-Old and either sing a series of songs with her, or listen to her amazing talent as she plays me one of her compositions. No longer will I hear myself addressed as 'Future Famous Author' by The-Eleven-Year-Old, making me feel like I had made it as a writer long before I'm anywhere near it. No longer will I get the opportunity to sit down and chat with Mr and Mrs-Host. Sit and talk about our days, share our problems and feel that, although my own parents are miles away in Ireland, I still have a second family to come home to.
The move at this particular point in time, was my decision and something that needed to happen. It will open up a whole new world of opportunity and one that I am open to/terrified of all at the same time. But all the same... leaving them had to be one of the toughest decisions I've made in a long time.
To show an example of the love that they brought, I'll tell you of one day I had a couple of months ago...
I had just decided that I wasn't going to go to America after months of planning and anticipation. In addition to this I was feeling the effects of having crappy emotions more than usual. I had the impulse to cry coming at me from every direction. My day at work had been stressful and had not helped with the stresses I was already feeling. I didn't know where to turn. I came home from work, gave Mrs-Host one look and burst into tears. She simply guided me to the sofa and sat there with me, hugging me whilst I cried for a good hour. She didn't ask any questions, she didn't probe me for any information. She just sat there with me, and waited until I was ready to talk. It was just what I needed and the best blessing I could have asked for.
Throughout these months, this has been the ongoing support I have experienced from them, in all areas of my life. They have constantly loved, cared and given, without asking for anything in return. They accepted me into their lives and family without reservation, and for that I will never stop being grateful.
The whole reason for me living with this family was so that I could get a hold of my financial issues and raise money to go to America. I might not have reached the goal of going to America, but every part of my life has begun to improve since being in that house. It was what I needed more than anything else. My finances are in control, my life is beginning to find order, and I am starting to embrace things with a clearer mind. For that reason, I thank God for them. They came into my life at the period where I needed them the most. They came and they offered kindness unselfishly and beautifully.
For this reason, it's no wonder that I am now looking at my next chapter of life, slightly low and terrified. I've lost my daily cushion of support (although they have made it clear that I am welcome any time). But I'm choosing to look forward at this point, grateful of the time and working on the notion that I won't squander all the good work they have done in my life by falling back onto bad habits. I will take their advice and kindness, and look forward with a smile on my face, safe in the knowledge that I have found a new family of friends for life.
So with all that being said, all I have left to say is: Thank you Caroline and Phil. Thank you for all you are. Thank you for having an awesome family. Thank you for these six months. Thank you for everything. You can be assured, you've got me for life now... Sorry about that!
Peace out my lovelies.
Monday, 17 June 2013
Friday, 14 June 2013
A life packed up in a series of precious bags.
There is a sense of nostalgia that comes with packing up the entirety of one's belongings and looking around at an empty room, holding nothing but a mass of bin bags and a few boxes. You can find yourself looking at this and realising that this is it. This little pile of things is all that you have in the world.
It is a mesh of bizarre items, collected over time and have no other similarities with each other, other than each one of them explains another little section of you. When put together, you have years of carefully planning and spontaneously buying and furiously saving up for, all amounting in the different aspects of you.
If you are anything like me, and find it hard to part with a lot of the items you have gained over the years, you can begin to look into things and see parts of your life that would have been otherwise dead and forgotten about, had you not held onto the little keepsake from that era that smiles up at you when you find it years later and are reminded of the time when this item was in the front view of your pile of items.
I have things like that. I have a Napoleon Dynamite figurine that speaks out lines from the movie. Every time I see it, I remember the years I spent with a group of friends where that movie and Bill Bailey's 'Part Troll' stand up show, were all that we would talk about. I remember the uncanny impression my friend Dave had of Napoleon's brother. I remember how I had first heard his impression before I had had a chance to watch the movie. And so, as a result, it feels like the brother is impersonating Dave, rather than the other way round. I remember nights in, watching these movies at friends' houses. I remember the different dynamics in the group, the ones that would want to talk all the way through a movie, the ones that would want to talk with the movie, and the ones who would press pause on the movie the moment any of the above began.
I have a pair of white shoes with a silver heel. They have completely fallen apart and are no use to wear again, but I keep them because they remind me of a time in my life when I had these amazing four friends. I had bought the shoes when I was out with one of them. I remember the reaction I had had when I saw them. I remember what I said word for word: "These are so unbelievably tacky, I have to buy them!" I remember buying a black and white dress to go with them. I remember that that night I had gone out to a party, wearing this ensemble. That I had been with these four friends, that it had been an amazing night. I remember being so happy that day. I remember feeling like I belonged.
I have a small statuette of a Greek woman throwing herself on a man. I bought that when I was in Cyprus, after I had been through a really crappy time and moved away from all the friends I have mentioned so far. I remember buying the statuette whilst on holiday with One-And-Only-Daniela. I remember saying to her that I had bought it as my little beacon of hope. That it was the thing to keep me inspired to finish writing the first book I had ever written. It was about Greek Mythology and this was my little reminder that I had a story to tell. It worked. I remember keeping it on my desk and staring at it for ages, using it as my focus whilst I worked through the story lines in my head.
People often ask me why I hold onto things. Why I get upset when something I have had for such a long time has gone missing or is thrown away. The reason is simple. Everyone else might look at my crap and see it for what it seems, which is, admittedly, crap. But only I can look at it all and see so much more. I see my life. I see my hurts and regrets, my accomplishments and triumphs. I see me. And without them to constantly remind me of personalities and strengths once had and now lost, I'm afraid I'll lose those parts of me forever.
Peace out my lovelies.
It is a mesh of bizarre items, collected over time and have no other similarities with each other, other than each one of them explains another little section of you. When put together, you have years of carefully planning and spontaneously buying and furiously saving up for, all amounting in the different aspects of you.
If you are anything like me, and find it hard to part with a lot of the items you have gained over the years, you can begin to look into things and see parts of your life that would have been otherwise dead and forgotten about, had you not held onto the little keepsake from that era that smiles up at you when you find it years later and are reminded of the time when this item was in the front view of your pile of items.
I have things like that. I have a Napoleon Dynamite figurine that speaks out lines from the movie. Every time I see it, I remember the years I spent with a group of friends where that movie and Bill Bailey's 'Part Troll' stand up show, were all that we would talk about. I remember the uncanny impression my friend Dave had of Napoleon's brother. I remember how I had first heard his impression before I had had a chance to watch the movie. And so, as a result, it feels like the brother is impersonating Dave, rather than the other way round. I remember nights in, watching these movies at friends' houses. I remember the different dynamics in the group, the ones that would want to talk all the way through a movie, the ones that would want to talk with the movie, and the ones who would press pause on the movie the moment any of the above began.
I have a pair of white shoes with a silver heel. They have completely fallen apart and are no use to wear again, but I keep them because they remind me of a time in my life when I had these amazing four friends. I had bought the shoes when I was out with one of them. I remember the reaction I had had when I saw them. I remember what I said word for word: "These are so unbelievably tacky, I have to buy them!" I remember buying a black and white dress to go with them. I remember that that night I had gone out to a party, wearing this ensemble. That I had been with these four friends, that it had been an amazing night. I remember being so happy that day. I remember feeling like I belonged.
I have a small statuette of a Greek woman throwing herself on a man. I bought that when I was in Cyprus, after I had been through a really crappy time and moved away from all the friends I have mentioned so far. I remember buying the statuette whilst on holiday with One-And-Only-Daniela. I remember saying to her that I had bought it as my little beacon of hope. That it was the thing to keep me inspired to finish writing the first book I had ever written. It was about Greek Mythology and this was my little reminder that I had a story to tell. It worked. I remember keeping it on my desk and staring at it for ages, using it as my focus whilst I worked through the story lines in my head.
People often ask me why I hold onto things. Why I get upset when something I have had for such a long time has gone missing or is thrown away. The reason is simple. Everyone else might look at my crap and see it for what it seems, which is, admittedly, crap. But only I can look at it all and see so much more. I see my life. I see my hurts and regrets, my accomplishments and triumphs. I see me. And without them to constantly remind me of personalities and strengths once had and now lost, I'm afraid I'll lose those parts of me forever.
Peace out my lovelies.
This whole moving milarkey thing is getting pretty carazy now...
I'm moving house again today... yes, that is correct, that would be the fourth house that I have lived in since I started this blog 2 and a half years ago... how ridiculous is that?
Also, each time I do this, I have found that my hoarding abilities are halved and I find myself thrown into a situation whereby I am now the owner of half the things that I had in the previous house... For those of you doing the math, yes that is meaning that my actual stuff that I am packing is becoming a little on the low side.
For example, when I moved into my new flat (the one that I had when I started blogging), it took a good four trips to get everything from my family home to the new home as well as a few ikea trips for furniture etc. When I moved into the second flat with the lovely Ex-Housemate-Anna, I had to use two cars and two trips to move from one flat to the other. On moving to The-Family's house last December, it took one car and two trips. Today, I'll be lucky if I fill one car... I'm pretty certain that my entire worldly possessions will fit into a suitcase on route to the house after this one...
You see, this time round, when putting together the beautiful flat packs from the wonderful world of Ikea, in my chest of drawers and desk, I came to the realisation that, although the furniture at Ikea are of a reasonable price and fairly easy at putting together, thus giving you an air of being an awesome queen of DIY, they really don't work well with a person who lives the lifestyle I tend to... in that after taking them apart for a second time, they are going to be really reluctant and not at all happy at being asked to be put back together once again. Thus the reason this post happened....
So yesterday, I found myself packing up the car with Mrs-Host and heading off to the skip to dispose of furniture that I realised, at the point of throwing it into the skip, I hadn't actually paid for yet... wow, that's a bummer. It was bought on a credit card, that I am still in the process of paying off... I couldn't decide whether I found this piece of information distressing or not...
Anyway, because not only do I find myself moving house more times than I cut my hair (true story), I also find that when I move, I like to move into a living situation that I haven't tried yet... so here's the rundown of what I've done so far:
1. Lived with Parents: I have lived in 7 different houses belonging to my parents.
2. Lived in a house owned by a friend: I lived with Rachael-The-Bully for 18 months
3. Lived in a flat on my own: I did that for a year.
4. Lived in a flat with a friend: Please see above
5. Lived in a house with a family that is not my own: I shall be leaving them today.
Which leads me to:
6: Live in a house rented by four other people as well.
Yes, this is my new adventure. I shall be renting a room for a bargain price, complete with own bed, furniture and (this is the bit that terrifies me) plant. I will be living with a couple I've already met, (lovely people, loving them already), and two mysterious men that I have yet to meet.
I think I will do fine in this situation as, due to learning this with my therapist recently, I am actually quite a passive person. I guess I've always known this, but the actual degree of my passivity has really only recently come to light. Seriously, I avoid all instances of confrontation and argument. To the point that I tend to just let things go at a stupidly high level.
Although this is fine, and actually a quality I quite like about me, in terms of there being little in my life that people can do that actually gets me to the point of getting pissed off with them... I do find that it has it's drawbacks, as I tend to then find myself just letting things go that I really shouldn't... and then when I do eventually bring up the courage to do something about it, it scares the crap out of the people around me because they never expected that I was capable of formulating a reaction... anywho that's a whole can of worms that I'll save for my therapist, rather than burdening you with it.
Instead, I thought I'd let you in on a little insight into my passivity from something that happened over the weekend.
My parents came into the country (they are now living in Ireland), to come and see a show in London for their 31st Anniversary. It was one of those things whereby it started out to be just my parents going to London, which then turned into Older-Brother-Glyn and his girlfriend Amy coming in from Essex, and Younger-Brother-Daniel travelling in from Bristol (all of this is pretty impressive, especially Younger-Brother-Daniel's trip, if you know anything about the geography of England (If you don't, please feel free to take in a sharp intake of breath and say 'Ooooh, aaaaah' 'amazing' and so on and so forth)).
Anywho, it turned into the whole family being together in central London, where we ate food in restaurants, watched 39 Steps in the West End and finished at a Burger King, where my mother was the most impressed she had been all day, after she found that the drinks were not only free refills, but that the machines that poured them, offered a huge range of different flavoured cokes and fantas, she wouldn't have elsewhere found in the country. Yes... it was a very exciting day for Marmie.
Anywho, in the first restaurant, Garfunkels, I had ordered the steak and chips, and had asked for the steak to be cooked Medium Rare, as I was a fan of a dash of juicy red inside the steak. The food arrived, we talked as a family... or rather bickered at a very high volume that entertained the entire restaurant on very important topics such as whether or not the trolley that disappears into Platform 9 3/4 is actually set up in King's Cross between Platform 9 and 10. I was adamant that this was a platform I found myself regularly going to, and that I hadn't seen it. Older-Brother-Glyn's Girlfriend Amy, was adamant that she had seen it there and that she had a picture of her next to it, to prove it. Whilst I fervently looked for this video (originally designed to show the world what One-And-Only-Daniela was like, but also provided proof that no such trolley existed between platforms 9 and 10), she also looked on Facebook to find her proof. Once the video was shown, Older-Brother-Glyn turned to his girlfriend and announced that it was clear what had happened in this situation... he told Amy that she should be more sensitive towards me as it was clear I was only a muggle, which was why I couldn't see the trolley.
That might have been the saddest moment of my life...
For those of you wondering two massive things through this little mini tangent... I will address these questions now:
1. The actual solution to the argument was found when Father googled it and found that, whilst they made building improvements to the station, the trolley had been moved around the station at different intervals. So, it was there, just not between platforms 9 and 10.
2. No, this is not the story about my levels of passivity, and yes, I am aware of the irony of this tangent which actually shows I am anything but passive in this situation. I would like to add a little disclaimer to the passivity rule in my life, however: All passivity in my nature tends to not apply to family based situations, as I have spent the majority of my life living with these people and, more importantly, lived with them at a time in my life when I was anything but passive and would make an argument out of everything. AKA: my teen years.
Now for the actual point I was trying to make, before my brain went off on one as it usually does...
Whilst in this restaurant, and after the steak and chips had arrived, I cut into the steak and found that it wasn't really medium rare, in the sense that it was cooked, and there was no red inside at all. Now, my reason for asking for the steak and chips was because I was looking forward to a nice medium rare steak, and looking at it on my plate, clearly medium to well done, if anything, I was a little upset. The conversation of this event, went a little like this:
Me: (Cuts into the steak, to see the medium to well done insides) Huh.
Younger-Brother-Daniel: What's wrong?
Me: I'd ordered a medium rare steak, and this doesn't look medium rare to me. What do you think? (I show it to Younger-Brother-Daniel)
Younger-Brother-Daniel: (Shrugs) I have no clue what a medium rare steak looks like.
Me: Marmie? (Shows Marmie my steak)
Marmie: It does look a little too cooked. Why don't you ask them to take it back and give you another one?
Me: I'd rather not. I don't mind, really. I'll just eat it, as it is.
I take a bite of the steak. It tastes nice enough. I cut into another part, it still doesn't look particularly pink. I decide to show it to Amy, sitting next to me.
Me: Does that look medium rare to you?
Amy: Not really.
Me: Glyn?
Older-Brother-Glyn: It's too cooked.
Me: Dad, look at this steak, it is definitely not what I ordered.
Waitress: Is everything okay with your food, guys?
Me: Oh, yes. It's lovely. Thanks.
Waitress leaves. Dad looks at me with raised eyebrows.
Me: What?
Dad: That conversation there was the definition of hypocrisy.
I believe it is clear that the degree of my upset was thus: I was upset enough to raise it with my family, showing them the steak and voicing my repeated fixation on a pretty mundane aspect of my food, but not to the extent where I actually wanted to put someone out of their way to do something about it.
And that's what it comes down to, I guess... I just don't like to put people out of their way... you know, in having to deal with wrong orders, asking for people to do me a favour, raising an issue with the way someone is behaving around me, asking people to hang with me... you know, the normal kind of stuff.
...
I can't help but think, that if I was a little better at some of those things, I might find myself in a situation whereby the longevity of time that a piece of meat has been on the grill, is not something that I class as the most interesting thing to happen to me this month...
Also, (to bring it back to the original point) I feel that my passive state should therefore warrant me to be a good housemate. If they play music until four in the morning, it's fine, I can get earplugs. If they steal my stuff, it's fine, I can see it as a lesson in not relying on my worldly possessions...
Having said that, I do feel that I should mention, I really don't expect my new housemates to be capable of any of the things mentioned above. And if they do overcook my steak, I'll probably just leave it... after I text my family, letting them know.
Peace out my lovelies.
Also, each time I do this, I have found that my hoarding abilities are halved and I find myself thrown into a situation whereby I am now the owner of half the things that I had in the previous house... For those of you doing the math, yes that is meaning that my actual stuff that I am packing is becoming a little on the low side.
For example, when I moved into my new flat (the one that I had when I started blogging), it took a good four trips to get everything from my family home to the new home as well as a few ikea trips for furniture etc. When I moved into the second flat with the lovely Ex-Housemate-Anna, I had to use two cars and two trips to move from one flat to the other. On moving to The-Family's house last December, it took one car and two trips. Today, I'll be lucky if I fill one car... I'm pretty certain that my entire worldly possessions will fit into a suitcase on route to the house after this one...
You see, this time round, when putting together the beautiful flat packs from the wonderful world of Ikea, in my chest of drawers and desk, I came to the realisation that, although the furniture at Ikea are of a reasonable price and fairly easy at putting together, thus giving you an air of being an awesome queen of DIY, they really don't work well with a person who lives the lifestyle I tend to... in that after taking them apart for a second time, they are going to be really reluctant and not at all happy at being asked to be put back together once again. Thus the reason this post happened....
So yesterday, I found myself packing up the car with Mrs-Host and heading off to the skip to dispose of furniture that I realised, at the point of throwing it into the skip, I hadn't actually paid for yet... wow, that's a bummer. It was bought on a credit card, that I am still in the process of paying off... I couldn't decide whether I found this piece of information distressing or not...
Anyway, because not only do I find myself moving house more times than I cut my hair (true story), I also find that when I move, I like to move into a living situation that I haven't tried yet... so here's the rundown of what I've done so far:
1. Lived with Parents: I have lived in 7 different houses belonging to my parents.
2. Lived in a house owned by a friend: I lived with Rachael-The-Bully for 18 months
3. Lived in a flat on my own: I did that for a year.
4. Lived in a flat with a friend: Please see above
5. Lived in a house with a family that is not my own: I shall be leaving them today.
Which leads me to:
6: Live in a house rented by four other people as well.
Yes, this is my new adventure. I shall be renting a room for a bargain price, complete with own bed, furniture and (this is the bit that terrifies me) plant. I will be living with a couple I've already met, (lovely people, loving them already), and two mysterious men that I have yet to meet.
I think I will do fine in this situation as, due to learning this with my therapist recently, I am actually quite a passive person. I guess I've always known this, but the actual degree of my passivity has really only recently come to light. Seriously, I avoid all instances of confrontation and argument. To the point that I tend to just let things go at a stupidly high level.
Although this is fine, and actually a quality I quite like about me, in terms of there being little in my life that people can do that actually gets me to the point of getting pissed off with them... I do find that it has it's drawbacks, as I tend to then find myself just letting things go that I really shouldn't... and then when I do eventually bring up the courage to do something about it, it scares the crap out of the people around me because they never expected that I was capable of formulating a reaction... anywho that's a whole can of worms that I'll save for my therapist, rather than burdening you with it.
Instead, I thought I'd let you in on a little insight into my passivity from something that happened over the weekend.
My parents came into the country (they are now living in Ireland), to come and see a show in London for their 31st Anniversary. It was one of those things whereby it started out to be just my parents going to London, which then turned into Older-Brother-Glyn and his girlfriend Amy coming in from Essex, and Younger-Brother-Daniel travelling in from Bristol (all of this is pretty impressive, especially Younger-Brother-Daniel's trip, if you know anything about the geography of England (If you don't, please feel free to take in a sharp intake of breath and say 'Ooooh, aaaaah' 'amazing' and so on and so forth)).
Anywho, it turned into the whole family being together in central London, where we ate food in restaurants, watched 39 Steps in the West End and finished at a Burger King, where my mother was the most impressed she had been all day, after she found that the drinks were not only free refills, but that the machines that poured them, offered a huge range of different flavoured cokes and fantas, she wouldn't have elsewhere found in the country. Yes... it was a very exciting day for Marmie.
Anywho, in the first restaurant, Garfunkels, I had ordered the steak and chips, and had asked for the steak to be cooked Medium Rare, as I was a fan of a dash of juicy red inside the steak. The food arrived, we talked as a family... or rather bickered at a very high volume that entertained the entire restaurant on very important topics such as whether or not the trolley that disappears into Platform 9 3/4 is actually set up in King's Cross between Platform 9 and 10. I was adamant that this was a platform I found myself regularly going to, and that I hadn't seen it. Older-Brother-Glyn's Girlfriend Amy, was adamant that she had seen it there and that she had a picture of her next to it, to prove it. Whilst I fervently looked for this video (originally designed to show the world what One-And-Only-Daniela was like, but also provided proof that no such trolley existed between platforms 9 and 10), she also looked on Facebook to find her proof. Once the video was shown, Older-Brother-Glyn turned to his girlfriend and announced that it was clear what had happened in this situation... he told Amy that she should be more sensitive towards me as it was clear I was only a muggle, which was why I couldn't see the trolley.
That might have been the saddest moment of my life...
For those of you wondering two massive things through this little mini tangent... I will address these questions now:
1. The actual solution to the argument was found when Father googled it and found that, whilst they made building improvements to the station, the trolley had been moved around the station at different intervals. So, it was there, just not between platforms 9 and 10.
2. No, this is not the story about my levels of passivity, and yes, I am aware of the irony of this tangent which actually shows I am anything but passive in this situation. I would like to add a little disclaimer to the passivity rule in my life, however: All passivity in my nature tends to not apply to family based situations, as I have spent the majority of my life living with these people and, more importantly, lived with them at a time in my life when I was anything but passive and would make an argument out of everything. AKA: my teen years.
Now for the actual point I was trying to make, before my brain went off on one as it usually does...
Whilst in this restaurant, and after the steak and chips had arrived, I cut into the steak and found that it wasn't really medium rare, in the sense that it was cooked, and there was no red inside at all. Now, my reason for asking for the steak and chips was because I was looking forward to a nice medium rare steak, and looking at it on my plate, clearly medium to well done, if anything, I was a little upset. The conversation of this event, went a little like this:
Me: (Cuts into the steak, to see the medium to well done insides) Huh.
Younger-Brother-Daniel: What's wrong?
Me: I'd ordered a medium rare steak, and this doesn't look medium rare to me. What do you think? (I show it to Younger-Brother-Daniel)
Younger-Brother-Daniel: (Shrugs) I have no clue what a medium rare steak looks like.
Me: Marmie? (Shows Marmie my steak)
Marmie: It does look a little too cooked. Why don't you ask them to take it back and give you another one?
Me: I'd rather not. I don't mind, really. I'll just eat it, as it is.
I take a bite of the steak. It tastes nice enough. I cut into another part, it still doesn't look particularly pink. I decide to show it to Amy, sitting next to me.
Me: Does that look medium rare to you?
Amy: Not really.
Me: Glyn?
Older-Brother-Glyn: It's too cooked.
Me: Dad, look at this steak, it is definitely not what I ordered.
Waitress: Is everything okay with your food, guys?
Me: Oh, yes. It's lovely. Thanks.
Waitress leaves. Dad looks at me with raised eyebrows.
Me: What?
Dad: That conversation there was the definition of hypocrisy.
I believe it is clear that the degree of my upset was thus: I was upset enough to raise it with my family, showing them the steak and voicing my repeated fixation on a pretty mundane aspect of my food, but not to the extent where I actually wanted to put someone out of their way to do something about it.
And that's what it comes down to, I guess... I just don't like to put people out of their way... you know, in having to deal with wrong orders, asking for people to do me a favour, raising an issue with the way someone is behaving around me, asking people to hang with me... you know, the normal kind of stuff.
...
I can't help but think, that if I was a little better at some of those things, I might find myself in a situation whereby the longevity of time that a piece of meat has been on the grill, is not something that I class as the most interesting thing to happen to me this month...
Also, (to bring it back to the original point) I feel that my passive state should therefore warrant me to be a good housemate. If they play music until four in the morning, it's fine, I can get earplugs. If they steal my stuff, it's fine, I can see it as a lesson in not relying on my worldly possessions...
Having said that, I do feel that I should mention, I really don't expect my new housemates to be capable of any of the things mentioned above. And if they do overcook my steak, I'll probably just leave it... after I text my family, letting them know.
Peace out my lovelies.
Saturday, 1 June 2013
Oh my days, the awesomeness of people is... well... awesome.
I have been in a little bubble of yumminess over the past few weeks. It's a bubble that I have dreamt about for so many years that I was probably still in nappies when they began... I have officially entered a world whereby people I don't know are aware of the voices in my head. Not only are they aware of them, but they are excited for them, angry at them, confused by them, and want to talk to me about them.
What's more, the reason behind them wanting to talk to me about them, doesn't have the hidden meaning that suggests they might commit me afterwards. Guys, I am able to talk about a completely fictitious place that I have made up with people that I have created and only good things are happening.
Yes, the world of the published author appears to be one of the only places whereby having an imaginary world that I escape to and develop on a daily basis, is something that is celebrated instead of being a reason for a referral to a mental health hospital.
What's more, people are being so unbelievably nice about the book, I have been walking around pinching myself on a regular basis, just to ensure that I am, in fact, awake.
So, if you haven't yet purchased my book, and are still on the fence about whether or not it's the book for you... I'm about to do something highly uncharacteristic for me and, believe me, there are large areas of my body right now who are not happy with this decision, and I'm going to show you the four amazing amazon comments I have had so far since make my book public. If you wish to buy the book, please follow the links on the right hand side of the screen ->>
What's more, the reason behind them wanting to talk to me about them, doesn't have the hidden meaning that suggests they might commit me afterwards. Guys, I am able to talk about a completely fictitious place that I have made up with people that I have created and only good things are happening.
Yes, the world of the published author appears to be one of the only places whereby having an imaginary world that I escape to and develop on a daily basis, is something that is celebrated instead of being a reason for a referral to a mental health hospital.
What's more, people are being so unbelievably nice about the book, I have been walking around pinching myself on a regular basis, just to ensure that I am, in fact, awake.
So, if you haven't yet purchased my book, and are still on the fence about whether or not it's the book for you... I'm about to do something highly uncharacteristic for me and, believe me, there are large areas of my body right now who are not happy with this decision, and I'm going to show you the four amazing amazon comments I have had so far since make my book public. If you wish to buy the book, please follow the links on the right hand side of the screen ->>
I loved this book. I love how it flicked between characters to give their point of view, and yet it flowed so well between them. I was constantly on the edge of my seat! You really feel like you know the characters. Great story line. Can't wait for the next book!!!!!!
***
5.0 out of 5 stars Great debut book! 17 May 2013
This is a wonderful first book from an author with a wonderfully vibrant imagination. The main apocalyptic theme of the book is a fantastic concept for a story that hooked me in and made me want to keep reading from the very start. The characters are introduced rapidly but all have their own personalities and backgrounds that separate them from each other and really bring them to life. With the exception of one individual, the entire cast is likeable and you'll find yourself sympathising with them all at some point(s) as the story unfurls.
The first book is clearly setting up a universe and cast of characters that could spawn a whole host of other stories and with the ending of this one fresh in my mind I can't wait to read the next!
The first book is clearly setting up a universe and cast of characters that could spawn a whole host of other stories and with the ending of this one fresh in my mind I can't wait to read the next!
***
Just finished reading this book. It is certainly one of the best books I've read of late.This book had me gripped from page one to the end. The characters are portrayed in a way that allows you to build them in your own mind without even thinking that your doing it. The story line is well structured and thought through developing as it goes along bringing in the characters in a way that leaves your mind wanting to move on and see where things go. When you hit that last page all you will want to do is find out when the next one in the series comes out, as it leaves you wanting more so many questions unanswered so many possibilities is it the end or not..... I guess only time will tell I certainly can't wait for the next book
***
5.0 out of 5 stars Ethics/Morality/Sci-Fi!, May 20, 2013
By Navy vet...vt town
Without reservation this is one of the best books I have read in a long time. Not only does it cover ethics and morality, it skillfully interweaves the question of love versus duty. And more.......much more....
The cast of characters is superb. People were selected for Utopia based on their accomplishments to society. There are some, however, that volunteered so they could be tested with a new "toxin".
Jason, the bartender, has been promised that his partner will be able to join him. Michelle, his boss, doesn't come through on this one and it leads to near hysteria on his part and dissension within Utopia .
Lots of interesting people in this one - Connor and Christy, Adam, the actor, and Kelly, the one-in-charge - just to mention a few..
The scene that unfolds outside with the lady and her baby is heart-wrenching.
And, then there are the pods... These were developed by a genius, Daniela, who knows how to control them. When a person is placed in them, they are telepathically linked to metal which turns into statues. The "Walkers" are ready to go outside.
How much killing of innocent people could you do before you snapped?
How long could you stay inside a protected environment?
Just an outstanding twist at the end of this story... I just shook my head and said "WOW"!
Most highly recommended and I notice it says series so am hoping....
If nations knew that the end was coming, what do you think they would do?
The cast of characters is superb. People were selected for Utopia based on their accomplishments to society. There are some, however, that volunteered so they could be tested with a new "toxin".
Jason, the bartender, has been promised that his partner will be able to join him. Michelle, his boss, doesn't come through on this one and it leads to near hysteria on his part and dissension within Utopia .
Lots of interesting people in this one - Connor and Christy, Adam, the actor, and Kelly, the one-in-charge - just to mention a few..
The scene that unfolds outside with the lady and her baby is heart-wrenching.
And, then there are the pods... These were developed by a genius, Daniela, who knows how to control them. When a person is placed in them, they are telepathically linked to metal which turns into statues. The "Walkers" are ready to go outside.
How much killing of innocent people could you do before you snapped?
How long could you stay inside a protected environment?
Just an outstanding twist at the end of this story... I just shook my head and said "WOW"!
Most highly recommended and I notice it says series so am hoping....
If nations knew that the end was coming, what do you think they would do?
To the people who have written these reviews, I can't even... I don't know... there are no words. I don't know how I can possibly put into a sentence the love and thanks that I feel for you. Thank you so much for being amazing people and sharing my passion. If you knew how much you have helped in making my dream come true... you are all beautiful people, and I mean everyone now.
To everyone who takes time out to read this blog when I actually get around to writing one, you are all amazing and perfect and awesome and responsible for turning an overly sarcastic woman into a gushing mess. I hope you're happy... oh, okay, maybe some of the sarcasm is still there... that's okay then.
I love you all. And I promise that, at some very near point, I will actually write a post on this thing that isn't to do with my book...
Oh. And, in case you're wondering, I have now officially begun writing the second book. I am about 6 chapters in and, so far, One-And-Only-Daniela (who is my moral support/cracking the whip reader, to keep me writing until it's finished) thinks that it's, and I quote, "good." Which is pretty high praise for her, given that I haven't yet written a chapter with her fictitious dopple ganger in (Daniela Davids, in case you hadn't noticed).
Okay, well I'm going to go and do some more writing... or watch Sherlock, I haven't yet decided. I will speak to all of you lovely people (have I mentioned I think you're lovely?) very soon, I promise.
Peace out my lovelies.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Hi, I'm plum, and I'm 97 years old
In the space of the past four months, I have managed to change a part of me that I have been prone to be for 27 years... that's pretty amazing, surely?
You see, for as long as I can remember, I have always been a night owl... with the exception of when I was a kid and my dad used to put us all to bed at 6pm as we lived in a college at the time, and he had lessons he had to teach at 7pm... but other than that, I have been a person that seems to come alive at night. I have always stayed up, been productive and sociable and just generally wired from about 7pm onwards, leaving room to only sleep once the time hit morning.
As great as this has been, it has had it's significant drawbacks in the sense that waking up again the following day would always be a problem. Every job I have ever had, every morning commitment I have ever made, has always led to me being late... I had about three different alarms that went off at different times, a watch that was at least ten minutes fast and still I could not trick my mind to get up in time. A long time ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that early morning was just not the time for me...
Then, four months ago, I started to save money and, with that plan, my small insignificant and pathetic excuse for a social life, disintegrated into non existent as I chose to stay in, in contribution to said saving of money. All that being said, I found myself coming home at around 7pm, having something to eat, looking around my room, seeing my bed, and thinking... well, there's nothing else to do, I might as well just go to sleep now.
And so, in these recent months, I have been making a habit to go sleep no later than 8pm every evening... It started as a way of ensuring that I get up early for work in the morning, all the while promising myself that I will be nice and sociable on a Friday and Saturday evening, when the early morning routine was not as important. However, (and I can't decide whether I am ashamed to say this next thing, or whether I am holding on to the fact with pride), lately I have been finding myself on a Friday night, when others are preparing to go out and dolling themselves up for a night on the town, looking around my room, glancing at my bed, then at the clock, and thinking... might as well...
All that being said, the upside has been that I have been waking up ridiculously early each morning. Gone are the days where I would need to lay my clothes out the night before, pack my bag and make sure that any food I need are pre-made, all designed for the inevitable late emerging from my duvet the following morning and following rush out of the door to ensure that I don't get fired for my constant lateness. Instead, I have been finding myself waking up at around 5:30am, a whole hour before my alarm goes off, and within that hour, I have found myself doing productive things.
Yes, ladies and gents, I have become a morning person... to the extent that, two weeks ago, I had managed to publish and advertise my book (have I mentioned I've written a book?) all before 6am.
How ridiculous is that? Who does that? I was almost ashamed at how practically geriatric I have become. In bed by half 7... usually before The-5-Year-Old has even put on her pyjamas. And then not just getting up early, but actually doing worthwhile and productive things at that hour! My every being is protesting against it... except for the tiny part of me that rather enjoys the 12 hour sleep... which, let's face it, is considerably less when you take into consideration the sheer amount of times I wake up shouting (and this is a true story from a couple of nights ago) "My grandparents would never approve of that." ... Don't ask... I can't remember what that was about, all I know is that it was another nightmare that had woken me up and, whatever it was about, my grandparents would not have been happy about it happening.
Now that the need for me to save is no longer as important (I am no longer going to America, anymore), you would thing that perhaps I might start to socialise more... and I have been considering this, however there have been a few invitations for things during the evenings that have been starting at 7pm and I have found myself laughing at, exclaiming: You want to meet at 7pm? What planet are you on? We're not teenagers anymore.
....
Yeah, I may need to work on that... I kinda like my early nights... and I've been doing this cross stitch lately as well as finding my old knitting needles... I've been meaning to finish that cardigan for months now...
Oh goodness me, is that the time? 7:30am on a Sunday morning? I really should be getting going, that mobility scooter isn't going to ride itself to the shops... and I did just collect those coupons for Asda...
Peace out my lovelies
You see, for as long as I can remember, I have always been a night owl... with the exception of when I was a kid and my dad used to put us all to bed at 6pm as we lived in a college at the time, and he had lessons he had to teach at 7pm... but other than that, I have been a person that seems to come alive at night. I have always stayed up, been productive and sociable and just generally wired from about 7pm onwards, leaving room to only sleep once the time hit morning.
As great as this has been, it has had it's significant drawbacks in the sense that waking up again the following day would always be a problem. Every job I have ever had, every morning commitment I have ever made, has always led to me being late... I had about three different alarms that went off at different times, a watch that was at least ten minutes fast and still I could not trick my mind to get up in time. A long time ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that early morning was just not the time for me...
Then, four months ago, I started to save money and, with that plan, my small insignificant and pathetic excuse for a social life, disintegrated into non existent as I chose to stay in, in contribution to said saving of money. All that being said, I found myself coming home at around 7pm, having something to eat, looking around my room, seeing my bed, and thinking... well, there's nothing else to do, I might as well just go to sleep now.
And so, in these recent months, I have been making a habit to go sleep no later than 8pm every evening... It started as a way of ensuring that I get up early for work in the morning, all the while promising myself that I will be nice and sociable on a Friday and Saturday evening, when the early morning routine was not as important. However, (and I can't decide whether I am ashamed to say this next thing, or whether I am holding on to the fact with pride), lately I have been finding myself on a Friday night, when others are preparing to go out and dolling themselves up for a night on the town, looking around my room, glancing at my bed, then at the clock, and thinking... might as well...
All that being said, the upside has been that I have been waking up ridiculously early each morning. Gone are the days where I would need to lay my clothes out the night before, pack my bag and make sure that any food I need are pre-made, all designed for the inevitable late emerging from my duvet the following morning and following rush out of the door to ensure that I don't get fired for my constant lateness. Instead, I have been finding myself waking up at around 5:30am, a whole hour before my alarm goes off, and within that hour, I have found myself doing productive things.
Yes, ladies and gents, I have become a morning person... to the extent that, two weeks ago, I had managed to publish and advertise my book (have I mentioned I've written a book?) all before 6am.
How ridiculous is that? Who does that? I was almost ashamed at how practically geriatric I have become. In bed by half 7... usually before The-5-Year-Old has even put on her pyjamas. And then not just getting up early, but actually doing worthwhile and productive things at that hour! My every being is protesting against it... except for the tiny part of me that rather enjoys the 12 hour sleep... which, let's face it, is considerably less when you take into consideration the sheer amount of times I wake up shouting (and this is a true story from a couple of nights ago) "My grandparents would never approve of that." ... Don't ask... I can't remember what that was about, all I know is that it was another nightmare that had woken me up and, whatever it was about, my grandparents would not have been happy about it happening.
Now that the need for me to save is no longer as important (I am no longer going to America, anymore), you would thing that perhaps I might start to socialise more... and I have been considering this, however there have been a few invitations for things during the evenings that have been starting at 7pm and I have found myself laughing at, exclaiming: You want to meet at 7pm? What planet are you on? We're not teenagers anymore.
....
Yeah, I may need to work on that... I kinda like my early nights... and I've been doing this cross stitch lately as well as finding my old knitting needles... I've been meaning to finish that cardigan for months now...
Oh goodness me, is that the time? 7:30am on a Sunday morning? I really should be getting going, that mobility scooter isn't going to ride itself to the shops... and I did just collect those coupons for Asda...
Peace out my lovelies
Friday, 17 May 2013
Breaking news! Well, it is for me... at the most, you might find it mildly interesting... you're welcome.
It's been brought to my attention recently, that I am the teensiest hard on myself... I don't know why people insist on telling me this, but for some reason, especially in the past couple of weeks, this seems to be the theme of people's thoughts when discussing me.
I'm not saying that this is something that people do all the time; discuss me. More like, I've had maybe more than two people say it to me in as many weeks and so it has been mentioned enough times for me to actually process it.
I have no idea what they are talking about personally. I mean, I feel it is perfectly normal for a person to expect that they can write and publish a book, save £6k in 6 weeks and tie up loose ends in the country they live in, so that they can disappear abroad for 6 months, all the while undergoing 12 weeks of therapy that intends to delve into their deepest darkest phobias and insecurities, bring them all to the surface and then pick them apart, until there is nothing left but a carcass of feelings and emotions within an empty shell of a human being... however, after being told this for long enough, I have come to realise that it probably is a good idea for me to give up at least one of these things... apparently, if I don't, then there's a chance that I might self combust and that just isn't pleasant for The-Family I live with to tidy up.
So I have looked into the whole 'giving up something' area realistically and, given that I have finally started these therapy sessions after being on the waiting list for 2 years (people outside the UK, yes the NHS system is usually awesome in the sense that, should I get knocked down by a bus next week and miraculously survive this, I won't end up with bills that will permanently bankrupt me for the remainder of my physically altered life; but in the context of actually getting treatment that isn't qualified as life-threatening, the NHS does have it's long drawn out drawbacks), I decided that I was not prepared to stop these. I have already done the whole publishing of my book... so I can't really cross that long term dream off my to-do list, as it is very much in the process of 'being done.'
This has left me with the heartbreakingly reality that I will have to give up the only other option... after 6 months of preparations and anticipation, I have had to put off my trip to America. Yes ladies and gents, I am no longer disappearing State side in July, instead I will be staying in my little town of London and work on the whole 'having money and enjoying it' thing.
As much as I really didn't want to make this decision in the long run, and fought against it with every fibre of my being, since I have said the words out loud and withdrawn my sabbatical application at work, I have found myself surprisingly elated... I mean, it sucks. I really wanted (and in some sense, needed) this chance to go away, but at the same time, the whole thing was becoming this amazing stressor on my life as the time approached and the things that needed to be done, hadn't been. In fact, for the past few weeks, it had become this massive strain on my life and, any time anyone asked me about it, I tended to simply groan and plead them not to remind me of it.
So, last week, I decided that I would put a pin in that little dream for a while. I'm not saying no completely, but rather, I'm just putting it on hold until I'm in a better place to actually do it and enjoy it. As such, I'm afraid to say, a lot of what I will be obsessing over now, will be to do with my book. That being said, I will endeavour to make this as entertaining as possible, because I'm generous like that...
Anywho, I bet you're all completely overwhelmed and dragging your jaws on the floor over the fact that this is the 3rd post I've uploaded in the week! I know, right? It's almost as if we've fallen back into time about two years...
Until another time,
Peace out my lovelies.
I'm not saying that this is something that people do all the time; discuss me. More like, I've had maybe more than two people say it to me in as many weeks and so it has been mentioned enough times for me to actually process it.
I have no idea what they are talking about personally. I mean, I feel it is perfectly normal for a person to expect that they can write and publish a book, save £6k in 6 weeks and tie up loose ends in the country they live in, so that they can disappear abroad for 6 months, all the while undergoing 12 weeks of therapy that intends to delve into their deepest darkest phobias and insecurities, bring them all to the surface and then pick them apart, until there is nothing left but a carcass of feelings and emotions within an empty shell of a human being... however, after being told this for long enough, I have come to realise that it probably is a good idea for me to give up at least one of these things... apparently, if I don't, then there's a chance that I might self combust and that just isn't pleasant for The-Family I live with to tidy up.
So I have looked into the whole 'giving up something' area realistically and, given that I have finally started these therapy sessions after being on the waiting list for 2 years (people outside the UK, yes the NHS system is usually awesome in the sense that, should I get knocked down by a bus next week and miraculously survive this, I won't end up with bills that will permanently bankrupt me for the remainder of my physically altered life; but in the context of actually getting treatment that isn't qualified as life-threatening, the NHS does have it's long drawn out drawbacks), I decided that I was not prepared to stop these. I have already done the whole publishing of my book... so I can't really cross that long term dream off my to-do list, as it is very much in the process of 'being done.'
This has left me with the heartbreakingly reality that I will have to give up the only other option... after 6 months of preparations and anticipation, I have had to put off my trip to America. Yes ladies and gents, I am no longer disappearing State side in July, instead I will be staying in my little town of London and work on the whole 'having money and enjoying it' thing.
As much as I really didn't want to make this decision in the long run, and fought against it with every fibre of my being, since I have said the words out loud and withdrawn my sabbatical application at work, I have found myself surprisingly elated... I mean, it sucks. I really wanted (and in some sense, needed) this chance to go away, but at the same time, the whole thing was becoming this amazing stressor on my life as the time approached and the things that needed to be done, hadn't been. In fact, for the past few weeks, it had become this massive strain on my life and, any time anyone asked me about it, I tended to simply groan and plead them not to remind me of it.
So, last week, I decided that I would put a pin in that little dream for a while. I'm not saying no completely, but rather, I'm just putting it on hold until I'm in a better place to actually do it and enjoy it. As such, I'm afraid to say, a lot of what I will be obsessing over now, will be to do with my book. That being said, I will endeavour to make this as entertaining as possible, because I'm generous like that...
Anywho, I bet you're all completely overwhelmed and dragging your jaws on the floor over the fact that this is the 3rd post I've uploaded in the week! I know, right? It's almost as if we've fallen back into time about two years...
Until another time,
Peace out my lovelies.
Why do I tend to do all my thinking the moment I need to sleep?
Anywho, I'm compensating with what the 'normal' people tend to do in these situations, by drinking hot chocolate and trying to de-stimulate my brain... I am currently in a state of de-tox in terms of alcohol, so I can't fall back on that to knock me out alas.
Ladies and gents, I've drunk my hot chocolate, I've watched silly (yet amazing) comedy, in the form of Absolutely Fabulous, all evening, and I found my eyes beginning to droop...
Alas this wasn't to last as, as soon as my head hit the pillow, my brain, which hadn't been stupified as it usually is, decided that this was the perfect time to do an all out PR brainstorming session on how to publicise my new book...
I know, I know. I can pretty much hear you all screaming at me over the fault in this particular situation...
... It's true, 'Brainstorming' is no longer considered a PC term for bringing out ideas in one session, as it runs the risk of offending those with epilepsy (true story, I actually had to sit through a seminar that spent 30 minutes covering this particular subject), the correct term is something like 'Idea fishing' or 'Thought catching' or something like that...
That being said, I have decided to risk the possible offense I will cause the people attending my *shock, gasp, I'm going to say it again* 'Brainstorming' session, as (as mentioned earlier) at the moment, it consists only of myself, my air conditioning unit and my stuffed Eeyore, all of which I've had testing for epilepsy and all of which have come back negative as well as scoring 'no offense taken' when I handed out the questionnaire on whether or not they would be offended if I went ahead and used that phrase... You're all rolling your eyes right now and thinking that this is a ridiculous tangent I've just gone on, but I ask you, is it? Or am I actually the kind of person who would write up a questionnaire for my stuffed toy and other such inanimate objects in my room, on the off chance that I end up with a HR complaint in my little publicist company? I'll leave you to answer that question.
Anywho... I've written a book... yes, it is all I can talk about.
Here's the link to where I talk about how I wrote the book a lot and milk it for all it's worth.
Here's the link to the book, which is called Utopia and is written by me... Lisa J Harries. (If you are purchasing this outside of the UK, you may need to access the version of this on your country's local Amazon site)
Now, I've gone down the road of self-publication in terms of getting my book out there. I've done this for three very valid reasons:
1. In this day and age, before you get seen my a publisher, you need to have an agent. Each agency receives about 100 - 300 manuscripts a day and take only a handful of new authors a year. It requires some serious amount of selling yourself in an almost prostitutionly manner which involves a lot more effort and self-worth than I am currently capable of.
2. If you've found yourself an agent and publisher who accept you and want to turn your baby into an actual book, you end up with about 15-20% of the royalties of each book, if that.
3. I'm just about pro-active enough to write a book but too lazy to actually do anything in reason 1.
So, I decided to do the whole self-publication thing, which led to seeing my beautiful little scrumptious baby of a book on the Amazon book shelf for anyone to digitally buy. It really is amazing to see... Sometimes, when I find myself with nothing to do, I just open up the page where my book is being sold and gaze at it lovingly... I've never seen a more good looking announcement of the impending apocalypse in my life.
All this being said, I have fallen upon a few little snags by choosing the do-it-yourself option...
1. All the editing in the world still results in the sodding thing being published with mistakes dotted around the book like some infested little disease ridden plague that physically offends and repulses me, each time I come across one.
2. I do not have the luxury of having some massive firm publicising my book on billboards around London and on the side of buses and instead must make do with my own little version of advertising...
Now due to this complete lack of professional advertising, this has been the thing that my mind has decided to focus on when it should be letting me sleep and is the thing that is causing me to sit at my computer writing on my blog in the vain hope that by writing down my thoughts, it will give my brain some form of relief and let it rest...
The problem lies, however, in that I am not the best person to deal with compliments/love/nice feelings/seeking attention really... It's not that I don't like all those things, I do. It's more that when those things are directed towards me, I tend to either crawl into the fetal position or throw up on the persons shoes.
After a long period of thinking, I have decided that therefore, my advertising campaign shall be the "What the hell is that about?" campaign. The 'Brainstorming' (I am so hardcore) for this has been as follows:
1. Walking around the streets of London with a few volunteers, all wearing sandwich boards that say 'The end of the world is nigh... ish... possibly... I don't know.' Finding street corners and giving speeches that hold no definitive answers about how that I'm sure there might be a possibility that somewhere down the line the world might decide to just give up possibly, in a way that could happen by the sun overheating or loads of ice melting or the air becoming toxic or monkeys taking over or something... possibly... I'm looking into it.
And then of course, when people come up and want to hear more about the breaking news we are imparting on them all, there people will be with flyers that just has the link to my book on it. (Seriously, if people want to go ahead and do that without me, I'm totally fine with that).
2. I make T Shirts... in true Lgalaviz fashion... except I will actually make them. If people are prepared to wear them, I'm even pretty certain I will give away the first 20 T shirts that people want... as soon as I get around to making them. All of them will have slightly bizarre yet completely open statements on the front that will cause the reader to go 'What the hell is that about?' At which point, the wearer will turn around and point to back of the shirt, where the link and image of my book will be available... The statements I have come up with so far are:
I've read it, have you?
Hands up if you know what Danel is.
(You might need to have read the book to get that one)
I bought a book that saved the world... and it wasn't even the bible. What have you done?
Before I read Utopia, I was ugly.
Utopia saved my marriage.
And so on and so forth... you know, I'm just spit balling here... feel free to leave your own suggestions.
And that is all my brain has managed to think up... I briefly considered coming up with more advertising ideas to flesh out the blog some more, but then I figured that would pretty much defeat the object of the whole 'trying to get to sleep' prospect anyway...
Many thanks to everyone who has been so supportive so far of my book. I've been so touched and completely nauseated (in the most complimented and loving way) by it all. So much so, that should you know you are close to bumping into me at any time, I suggest you wear shoes you aren't too fond of.
A little shout out to Roxie who, come rain or shine, no matter how erratic I am being on this blog, always has something to say that usually picks me up... your comments are always welcome, thank you for your support! Also to Ayra who even went as far as devoting a whole blog post to my book, you are awesome and I was overwhelmed and touched by your "every little help" (I know that doesn't technically make sense, but let's pretend it did).
Thank you to everyone who has helped, you are all wonderful and further publicising would be amazeballs covered in honey (or as The-Family like to call it, 'Bee-Wee') soaked in scrumptious stuff that my brain can't think of because I think I've actually managed to knacker it out and it finally wants to go to sleep... we'll see.
Overall, just thanks, everyone. You've made a simple little gal from London, very happy.
Peace out my lovelies.
Monday, 13 May 2013
I have officially joined the realms of the published author
I have earnt myself a new nickname in the house I live, especially with the 11-Year-Old who has officially dubbed me as 'The-Famous-Author.' He has also stated that he wants me to sign as many pieces of paper as possible, so that he can then go ahead and sell them on in a couple of years time, which is when he predicts I will be officially as big and famous as JK Rowling.
His reasons for all of this? ... Well, after many many months of saying I will do it and then putting it off to watch TV or fall asleep, I have officially published my book: Utopia.
Yes ladies and gents, you are now in contact with non other than an actual bona fide published author who has her own little space on Amazon, ready for anyone worldwide to buy her book. It is rather grand and kinda awesome in a really terrifying kind of way.
You see, this little novel is my baby right at the centre of something that has been my dream ever since I was 10 years old and used to write stories about my class, a new chapter each week that my teacher would then let me read out to the class at the end of the day. We would go on adventures on pirate ships and to distant lands... it was awesome.
From as young as I can remember, I have been saying that I want to be an author. From the moment that I picked up a Famous Five book and became hooked on their stories, I longed to be able to write of my own fictional places and create characters that would never have existed if I hadn't written them down.
Along the way however, when I reached the wonderful phase of life that is teenage-land, a bit of the dream disappeared from me... English was always my favourite subject and I never tired of being able to write, but at the same time, life got in the way and the thought of writing seemed to be childish for a while. Along with this thought, I lost some of my confidence in the words that I wrote. I assumed I would never be good enough to write as my favourite authors, I would never be able to write a scene as beautiful as the ones I filled my head with in the books I read every night before I went to sleep. I let my dream slide, and I stopped writing.
In amongst all of this, I still found myself completely enthralled by the magic of story telling. I watched about 4 movies a week and had at least one book on the go at all times. Every so often, I would come across a book or a film that would be so beautiful and touch my heart in such a way, I would feel a physical ache right in the very core of me; a longing to be able to transform my imagination into words as beautifully as what I had just experienced.
When I hit about 18, I was asked to write a short sketch for the church I was going to at the time. I was apprehensive, I didn't think I would be able to do it. Thankfully however, the people asking me wouldn't take no for an answer and for the first time in 7 years, I wrote a story... or rather a play. It was ridiculous, it was about an X Factor competition with biblical characters as the judges. It was highly non-sensical, with cheap gags and so on, but writing it was the most fun I had had in a long time. I found that it stirred something in my heart that had been dormant for a while. I remembered what it felt like to write fiction again and with that memory came the childlike excitement I had had all those years ago. My younger self woke up from the comatose stupour I had put her in and did a little jig.
Over the years, I have written sketches, plays, short stories and, when I hit 22 and was first overwhelmed with the completely devastating pain that was depression, I tried my hand at a novel. It took me 2 years to write and was called Serenity. Even though it came from a time in my life that was quite dark, it surprisingly wasn't that depressing. It was the best therapy I had ever given myself. Every time I felt low and had no answers to what the real world had to throw at me, I had this completely beautiful fantasy world that I had created to escape to. When people didn't react in a way that made sense to me and only seemed to aggrevate the bad feelings I had, I had characters that did exactly as I told them to. It was the most freeing thing I had ever felt.
Again, last year, out of a nightmare that scared the living crap out of me, I found myself with a need to write a novel. So I wrote, I took the crappiest lemons that life has handed me, my without-fail, regular-like-clockwork, every-night recurrent nightmares, and I made lemonade.
And now I have taken this and stepped out into a world whereby I am allowing my dream to be realised. 27 years of dreaming and hoping all came to a head last Wednesday, as I opened up Amazon and found my book available to buy.
I went to Harry Potter Studio Tours last year with the wonderful One-And-Only-Daniela and found the below quote from JK Rowling written on the wall.
His reasons for all of this? ... Well, after many many months of saying I will do it and then putting it off to watch TV or fall asleep, I have officially published my book: Utopia.
Yes ladies and gents, you are now in contact with non other than an actual bona fide published author who has her own little space on Amazon, ready for anyone worldwide to buy her book. It is rather grand and kinda awesome in a really terrifying kind of way.
You see, this little novel is my baby right at the centre of something that has been my dream ever since I was 10 years old and used to write stories about my class, a new chapter each week that my teacher would then let me read out to the class at the end of the day. We would go on adventures on pirate ships and to distant lands... it was awesome.
From as young as I can remember, I have been saying that I want to be an author. From the moment that I picked up a Famous Five book and became hooked on their stories, I longed to be able to write of my own fictional places and create characters that would never have existed if I hadn't written them down.
Along the way however, when I reached the wonderful phase of life that is teenage-land, a bit of the dream disappeared from me... English was always my favourite subject and I never tired of being able to write, but at the same time, life got in the way and the thought of writing seemed to be childish for a while. Along with this thought, I lost some of my confidence in the words that I wrote. I assumed I would never be good enough to write as my favourite authors, I would never be able to write a scene as beautiful as the ones I filled my head with in the books I read every night before I went to sleep. I let my dream slide, and I stopped writing.
In amongst all of this, I still found myself completely enthralled by the magic of story telling. I watched about 4 movies a week and had at least one book on the go at all times. Every so often, I would come across a book or a film that would be so beautiful and touch my heart in such a way, I would feel a physical ache right in the very core of me; a longing to be able to transform my imagination into words as beautifully as what I had just experienced.
When I hit about 18, I was asked to write a short sketch for the church I was going to at the time. I was apprehensive, I didn't think I would be able to do it. Thankfully however, the people asking me wouldn't take no for an answer and for the first time in 7 years, I wrote a story... or rather a play. It was ridiculous, it was about an X Factor competition with biblical characters as the judges. It was highly non-sensical, with cheap gags and so on, but writing it was the most fun I had had in a long time. I found that it stirred something in my heart that had been dormant for a while. I remembered what it felt like to write fiction again and with that memory came the childlike excitement I had had all those years ago. My younger self woke up from the comatose stupour I had put her in and did a little jig.
Over the years, I have written sketches, plays, short stories and, when I hit 22 and was first overwhelmed with the completely devastating pain that was depression, I tried my hand at a novel. It took me 2 years to write and was called Serenity. Even though it came from a time in my life that was quite dark, it surprisingly wasn't that depressing. It was the best therapy I had ever given myself. Every time I felt low and had no answers to what the real world had to throw at me, I had this completely beautiful fantasy world that I had created to escape to. When people didn't react in a way that made sense to me and only seemed to aggrevate the bad feelings I had, I had characters that did exactly as I told them to. It was the most freeing thing I had ever felt.
Again, last year, out of a nightmare that scared the living crap out of me, I found myself with a need to write a novel. So I wrote, I took the crappiest lemons that life has handed me, my without-fail, regular-like-clockwork, every-night recurrent nightmares, and I made lemonade.
And now I have taken this and stepped out into a world whereby I am allowing my dream to be realised. 27 years of dreaming and hoping all came to a head last Wednesday, as I opened up Amazon and found my book available to buy.
I went to Harry Potter Studio Tours last year with the wonderful One-And-Only-Daniela and found the below quote from JK Rowling written on the wall.
"No story lives unless someone wants to listen."
It sums it up really. I have this story that I want to tell and, at the moment, the only place it exists is in my head. My dream is that I am able to put it into your head too. The love that I have for my characters; the frustration and anger and happiness and joy and tears that I have given them all, I want you guys to feel too.
There is this story I've written and it is from the very heart of me. I was wondering... erm... if you wouldn't mind... ahem... possibly... having a go at giving it a read?
Below is the link to the Amazon.co.uk site. It is available worldwide but it will require you accessing the book from your country's own equivalent Amazon site if you are not from the UK. It's only available electronically at the moment. If you don't have a kindle however, this is fine, neither do I. All you have to do is download the kindle app onto your smartphone/tablet of choice which is completely free of charge, and then after you buy it, the next time you open the app, there it will be, all shiny and new.
And now for one last thing. Since going over this book with all my wonderful editing skills time and time again, since purchasing my own copy, I have noted some very annoying mistakes spotted around the book... it really sucks.
Anywho... I am choosing to use this as an awesome selling point as, if you buy this first edition, with all the mistakes in, then, when I am (as The-11-Year-Old is convinced I will be) at the same status as JK Rowling, you can then sell this book on for the millions it will no doubtedly be worth and buy an island or a really expensive carpet or whatever it is that the kids are buying these days. You're welcome.
Oh, and please, please, please advertise the hell out of this book for me... even if you hated it, it's fine. Just tell everyone that you loved it. You can lie. I've looked into it and I'm like 98% certain there will be no long term repercussions. Feel free to make up your own lies too... go nuts... hell, tell everyone that by buying the book they will be contributing to sending out a signal to lasers in the sky, targeted on the meteor that is about to hit Earth and without a million of these signals, the lasers won't hit the meteor and the world will end. Thus meaning, that by buying the book, they are contributing to the saving of all mankind (That one might actually be true... maybe).
Or you know, whatever lie you feel called to use... I'll leave that completely up to you.
Thanks to all who have already bought it and to those who are about to after reading this. Feel free to let me know what you think, even if you hated it... that's fine.
Love you all hugely and a little bit inappropriately.
Peace out my lovelies.
Tuesday, 23 April 2013
Somewhere between sand and clouds.
I haven't been around. I know. Truth is, I've not really been myself lately. I've been tackling with emotions that have been presenting themselves in new and exciting ways that have, quite simply, blind sighted me.
I'm currently living in a state of what is either pure concentrated faith and unfathomable optimism or complete and utter denial. I never realised just how thin a line there is between the two, until recently.
You see, at the end of June, I am leaving my job for a 6 month period of unpaid leave. My employers have approved it, my
job post has gone out for applications and people are soon to be lined up for interviews scheduled for May. Everything is going ahead with the one plan in mind, I am going to America.
There's just one little insignificant catch... I have no money. I also haven't the frame of mind to raise said money.
I should have factored into my plans my unquestionable ability to personally destruct any good thing I have going for me. Anything that I plan for myself in a purely selfish and self-fulfilling way, I am so good at dreaming of in a "my head is always in the clouds" sense but the moment I even think there's a possibility of me achieving said dream, my head comes plummeting back down to earth and straight into a hole in the sand.
I've done it every time. For example:
1. My two finished books with no effort of publishing or letting anyone of importance see.
2. Leaving my blog by the wayside the moment I start to develop a loyal following.
3. So many friendships that I have given up making the effort for in favour of spending some quality time lying in my bed and being alone.
4. The fact that I won't even talk to a man when there is a possibility of romantic intentions.
All of this I do on a daily basis. Almost as if the possibility of rejection or disappointment will be that little bit less painful if I am the one who instigated it.
Don't get me wrong, occasionally I get pockets of being the organisational queen. In these moments, I put together packages of my book for agents, go on a splurge of writing in my blog every day for a whole week, even apply for 6 month unpaid leave at work and move into a more financially viable house with a supporting and loving family who brighten my mood without them even realising it. I even apply for the university I want to go to in America. But then a hurdle will hit me in the form of money or a larger demand of my time and effort and self... and suddenly I'm exhausted, fall into a pit of self-deprivation and become my worst critic, chastising my plans and even the way I walk around feeling sorry for myself.
I urge myself to be someone different. Someone who can organise and save and take stress with a wave of her hand and a smile on her face. I tell myself that if I'm more like that person, I'll get places. If I stop being ruled by my emotions and my tendency to criticise every single aspect of my life, I would be a better person. Doors will open and I will be free to be happy and take risks and achieve the desires of my heart and the dreams rooted deep in the very soul of me.
...
And then I realise I'm not that person. I'm trying to become some fantastical person most people aspire to be but few actually are. I realise this and suddenly the quiet peaceful sanctuary of my attic room and the freeing nature of my creative writing world seem like the only dreams I need. The money I promised myself I would save is spent on food and wine and materialistic things that, in that moment, become my closest friend.
I soak in the immediate comfort they bring me and put my dreams back on the clouds, far away from where I am, so that they can't hurt me by never coming true. I think... Maybe I can fulfil that dream another time, maybe it'll be better when my mind is more settled and my body is less panicked. And I smile to myself and agree to face the impending inevitability tomorrow. Tonight, I'm blissfully ignorant.
Of course, that moment of bliss never lasts, and soon life is there, right in front of me, demanding all of me.
...
And that's where I am. Unsure of what will happen. Unsure of where I will be in a few short months. Unsure of even what I hope to accomplish by writing this down, only that I needed to and I have.
Peace out my lovelies.
I'm currently living in a state of what is either pure concentrated faith and unfathomable optimism or complete and utter denial. I never realised just how thin a line there is between the two, until recently.
You see, at the end of June, I am leaving my job for a 6 month period of unpaid leave. My employers have approved it, my
job post has gone out for applications and people are soon to be lined up for interviews scheduled for May. Everything is going ahead with the one plan in mind, I am going to America.
There's just one little insignificant catch... I have no money. I also haven't the frame of mind to raise said money.
I should have factored into my plans my unquestionable ability to personally destruct any good thing I have going for me. Anything that I plan for myself in a purely selfish and self-fulfilling way, I am so good at dreaming of in a "my head is always in the clouds" sense but the moment I even think there's a possibility of me achieving said dream, my head comes plummeting back down to earth and straight into a hole in the sand.
I've done it every time. For example:
1. My two finished books with no effort of publishing or letting anyone of importance see.
2. Leaving my blog by the wayside the moment I start to develop a loyal following.
3. So many friendships that I have given up making the effort for in favour of spending some quality time lying in my bed and being alone.
4. The fact that I won't even talk to a man when there is a possibility of romantic intentions.
All of this I do on a daily basis. Almost as if the possibility of rejection or disappointment will be that little bit less painful if I am the one who instigated it.
Don't get me wrong, occasionally I get pockets of being the organisational queen. In these moments, I put together packages of my book for agents, go on a splurge of writing in my blog every day for a whole week, even apply for 6 month unpaid leave at work and move into a more financially viable house with a supporting and loving family who brighten my mood without them even realising it. I even apply for the university I want to go to in America. But then a hurdle will hit me in the form of money or a larger demand of my time and effort and self... and suddenly I'm exhausted, fall into a pit of self-deprivation and become my worst critic, chastising my plans and even the way I walk around feeling sorry for myself.
I urge myself to be someone different. Someone who can organise and save and take stress with a wave of her hand and a smile on her face. I tell myself that if I'm more like that person, I'll get places. If I stop being ruled by my emotions and my tendency to criticise every single aspect of my life, I would be a better person. Doors will open and I will be free to be happy and take risks and achieve the desires of my heart and the dreams rooted deep in the very soul of me.
...
And then I realise I'm not that person. I'm trying to become some fantastical person most people aspire to be but few actually are. I realise this and suddenly the quiet peaceful sanctuary of my attic room and the freeing nature of my creative writing world seem like the only dreams I need. The money I promised myself I would save is spent on food and wine and materialistic things that, in that moment, become my closest friend.
I soak in the immediate comfort they bring me and put my dreams back on the clouds, far away from where I am, so that they can't hurt me by never coming true. I think... Maybe I can fulfil that dream another time, maybe it'll be better when my mind is more settled and my body is less panicked. And I smile to myself and agree to face the impending inevitability tomorrow. Tonight, I'm blissfully ignorant.
Of course, that moment of bliss never lasts, and soon life is there, right in front of me, demanding all of me.
...
And that's where I am. Unsure of what will happen. Unsure of where I will be in a few short months. Unsure of even what I hope to accomplish by writing this down, only that I needed to and I have.
Peace out my lovelies.
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
Wild Horses.
Where have I been? I've been in writing heaven.. Or hell, I can't decide. Yet again I have had a dream that has inspired my writing once more. I really am worried that my subconscious will be sueing me for the rights to any books I write should I get them published. She's tricky that way.
Anywho, what I'm about to post is not in any way me giving up on the Utopia series as I have already written about five chapters of book two. But, as my brain is never happy with just over-achieving, but rather multi-tasking whilst I over achieve, it has been nagging me to at least write the prologue to this new dream inspired book.
On top of this, I am working full time, studying for my NVQ in business administration AND trying to organise a fund raiser for my trip to America... Yet somehow I still feel like I'm being lazy as well... I'm not too sure how this works, maybe I need to take something new on...
But anyway, I'm not sure when I'm going to write anymore about this book, I just needed to get the prologue down, otherwise my brain was ready to explode on me and that would have taken ages for The-Family I live with to clean.
I don't want to say much more about this book as of yet, except to say its more real life this time round rather than science fictiony.
Without further ado; I give you the prologue to my book "Wild Horses." Let me know what you think.
Prologue
Autumn peered through the small crack in the window blind. People filed in, one after the other, all carrying the same item. Her item. There were hundreds of people out there, she knew that the excited line of people went back for at least a mile. And they were all here to see her.
That was enough to set her over the edge, she shut the blind and immediately placed her head between her knees. Taking deep breaths, she tried desperately to stop the world from spinning around her.
"Sit down." Came Leah's familiar voice.
Autumn did as she was told and found a glass of Pepsi Max and a bar of Galaxy thrust in front of her.
"Take these and go to your comfort place." Leah said.
Autumn nodded and took both items readily. She crossed her legs on the chair, closed her eyes and took a sip and a bite. She refrained from the therapeutic ideation of a beach, it was too easy for her thoughts to stray, instead she picked her flat. She would give anything to be in her flat right now, away from the growing noise outside, somewhere she could just shut the door, crawl under her duvet and shut herself off from the world. She mentally shut the door to her flat and dragged the duvet to her beautiful sofa. There she lay watching reruns of That 70s Show and mouthing the words along with the characters.
She felt some of the stress ebb away. Her thoughts quietened and she allowed herself another portion of chocolate.
"Which episode of That 70s Show are you watching? Leah asked.
"Jackie and Hyde have just got together. No one else knows yet."
"Nice. Here you go."
Autumn opened her eyes to see an iPad in front of her. Season 4, Episode 1 all ready and waiting to be watched.
"You've got time." Leah said. "Watch it."
Autumn smiled at her PA. "What would I do without you?"
"Well, you'd still have your books, but I'm pretty certain you'd be a hermit by now."
Autumn accepted this to be pretty accurate and hit play on the tablet. The episode began and Leah backed away, leaving Autumn to it. Autumn settled into her chair and took another bite of chocolate. She was left undisturbed for the 20 minute episode.
As soon as she was finished and the end credits began to roll, Leah knocked on the door and popped her head into the room.
"It's time." She said.
Autumn nodded, all words escaping her. She slowly stood and walked on shaky legs out of the room and towards the shop floor.
"I think I'm going to throw up." Autumn said.
"You haven't thrown up for years." Leah answered. "Just 30 more seconds and you'll be there."
Autumn felt the waves of anxiety start to spin the room once more. "I don't think I'm going to make it."
Leah wrapped her arm around Autumn's waist, pushing her gently forward.
"Just one step after the other." She said. "Almost there."
As they reached the entrance to the floor, Autumn closed her eyes and held her breath. Stilling herself until she heard the words from the announcer outside.
"Ladies and Gents, the woman who never fails to make you laugh and cry simultaneously; I give you Autumn Blake!"
Leah pushed Autumn through the door at the sound of the people's cheers and Autumn opened her eyes, saw the crowd all looking at her expectantly and the switch was flipped. She smiled warmly at the growing cheers and waved at the people all screaming her name. Someone threw a pair of boxers at her and she caught them, laughing and holding them out for the audience to see.
"Alas, I don't think they're quite my size." She called out.
The crowd responded with laughter and cheers and a male voice called out.
"I made sure not to wash them after I wore them!"
Autumn laughed loudly and made sure to have as little contact as possible with the apparently dirty boxers, holding them between her forefinger and thumb.
"Wow. And I had hoped my fetish for dirty underwear would have been one of those secrets I'd have taken with me to the grave. Damn. How did you know?"
More laughter. Autumn laughed with them and glanced back at Leah who was ready with a ruler. Autumn placed them on the ruler and Leah left the room, the boxers held as far away from her as possible.
"Okay, well now that that's been taken care of." Autumn said. "Who would like me to sign some books?"
The roar that followed this question was deafening and Autumn rolled her eyes, motioning for the crowd to settle down as she made her way to the table. She reached for her book and opened it at the bookmarked page.
"I've been told that apparently people want me to read from it first." Autumn said. More cheers. "Lazy buggers." She said, once they had quietened down. "You could just read it yourselves, you know."
Laughter and applause. She smiled her winning smile and began the chapter. The room fell silent as she continued to read, her captive audience hanging on her every word. She shut them out and lost herself in her main protagonist. She loved this character above all characters she had written. She was balsy, sharp and everything that Autumn wished she could be. She was so lost in the book, she jumped when laughter erupted in response to her words. She looked up at the sea of faces.
"Sorry," she said. "I forgot you were all here. You gave me the shock of my life."
People cheered and she returned to her book, finishing the excerpt to a thunderous applause.
"I love you, Autumn!" Came a scream from the audience.
"Oh, so you're the one!" Autumn said back. "Nice to meet you. Okay, any questions?"
The rest of the hour sped by in a tirade of questions and compliments. Autumn accepted them all and answered excitedly. She loved this part of her job; talking to people about a world that, before she had out pen to paper, had never existed in their minds. She listened as people told her about the characters they identified with and the different characters they wished were real and married to. She soaked in it, knowing that this was the reason she continued to write; to be able to have moments like this. During that moment, she loved every person in that room, they were her people, each one an individual confirmation of why she gets out of bed each morning. In her dark days of self doubt and loathing, it was moments like this she drew on to give her hope. This large, ominous crowd who she was simultaneously in love with and terrified of.
Once the questions were drawn to a close, Autumn made a large gesture of stretching her fingers and grinned.
"Repetitive Strain Injury, here I come." She said, loudly. "Okay, who's first?"
People rushed forward and Autumn's cheeks began to burn from all the smiling she did. After a couple of hours of this, the smile began to fade a little, fatigue beginning to set in as well as some of the same panic she had experienced before. The crowd just didnt seem to ebb away. Once one load of people were filed out, another rush came in, demanding as much excitement and enthusiasm from her as their predecessors.
Leah was at her side then, once more showing how completely attuned she was to Autumn's feelings. She whispered in her ear.
"Break?" She asked.
Autumn looked at her with so much gratification that Leah instantly started laughing.
"You've worn her out!" She addressed the crowd. "Half an hour break and she'll be back."
There were groans amongst the crowd but at least no one threw anything nasty at her. Not that Autumn could think of anything worse than the used underwear from the morning.
Her break seemed to end all too quickly, she looked at her empty plate forlornly as the end credits from That 70s Show once more played on her iPad. The prospect of going back out there, again began to terrify Autumn.
"Just three more hours." Leah said. "You know you'll be fine when you get out there."
Autumn sighed but didn't answer. Instead she stood before she could convince herself otherwise and made her way back to the throng of people. Leah was right, of course. Once she was out there, food now in her belly and another episode of the only series that could relax her in her mind, she was back to operating at almost 100%. She joked with her readers and had her picture taken on their phones.
She was in full flow when he arrived at her table. Him, that beautiful, beautiful man who's features Autumn had always lusted over had matured and become even more prominent than the last time she had seen him. She heard him before she saw him though, her gaze was down as she finished signing the book of the person in front of him.
"You are a sight for sore eyes." He said.
The voice was so familiar, even though it too seemed to have matured. Her gaze shot up immediately and looked him square in his breath takingly stunning ice blue eyes.
"Elijah?" She said, in disbelief.
"Hey Autumn." He said.
A flood of memories rushed into Autumn's mind as she heard him say her name. Memories of melodramatic teenage feelings. He was everything she had ever wanted for most of her adolescent age yet she hadn't thought of him for so long. How had that happened? Who could forget that face?
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
Elijah laughed. "I was under the impression my favourite author was signing today. Turns out I was wrong but I figured I might as well get you to sign instead."
"Ah, the famous Elijah wit, it's been a while since I've heard that." Autumn replied, sliding back into their age old banter.
"Not as famous as yours, of course." He said. "Last I checked, BBC and Channel 4 didn't care enough to air what I have to say."
"Well, I'll make sure to send out a memo. Obviously that's a tragedy."
Elijah grinned once more. "I knew I could rely on you."
"Why the hell are you queuing up? All you had to do was get in touch with me, it would have saved you the trouble."
Elijah scrunched his face up at that. "Oh please woman," he said. "I carelessly ignore you for four years and then get in touch with you the moment you're rich and famous. You would have blocked me from your phone. I dread to think how many people have tried to capitalise on that."
"You didn't ignore me, you loser. I moved away."
"Still. I didn't want to take the piss."
Autumn rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to further protest but Elijah thrust his copy of her book in front of her. It was tattered and dog eared, it looked like it had been chucked about. She raised her eyebrows at it.
"Do you not know how to look after a book?" She asked.
"I like the well-read look."
"Well-read?" Autumn scoffed. "Elijah, this thing looks like it's been thrown at the bottom of a bag and forgotten about."
"So, I've taken it a few places with me." Elijah said, with a shrug.
Autumn let out a little giggle and opened the front cover.
"Who shall I make it out to?" She asked with a smile.
"Your name will do." He answered. "It will sell a lot easier on eBay if it doesn't have a name attached to it."
"I hate to break it to you, but no one is going to buy this book on eBay."
"What are you talking about? It's fine."
Autumn just shook her head and proceeded to sign her name inside the cover.
"Next time you get the urge to see me, just call me okay?" She said. "I'm officially giving you permission."
"Sure thing." Elijah said with a laugh. He saluted to Autumn. "See you around, Blake."
"Later, loser."
And he was gone. She watched him leave with a sigh, wishing that she'd somehow said more, done more. That was too fleeting.
"Oh my days, Autumn Blake, I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!" Autumn forced away her gaze from Elijah's exit and smiled her warmest smile at her next fan.
She'd signed several more books before Leah came and sat next to her and addressed the person arriving at the table.
"My apologies, I just need a moment with Autumn." She said with her best smile. "Autumn, I just have a few urgent things to go over with you.
She then proceeded to thrust her iPad in front of Autumn. On it she had written: "Who was that beautiful man? How do you know him? Is he single? And if so, why are you not hitting that?"
Autumn suppressed the urge to laugh and nodded professionally, smiling apologetically at the woman standing in front of her.
"I see," she said to Leah. "Yes well that would have to be filed away in the early years of the character's life. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to answer everything they need here. She is a complex character."
"Don't I know it." Leah said with a roll of her eyes. "Can you at least respond to this one?"
She underlined the "Is he single?" question with her finger.
"I don't have an answer for that at this point."
"Do you know when you might have an answer?"
"I have no timeline for that, no."
"Would you like me to look into it?"
"No need." Autumn said, giving her a warning look. This woman was hellbent on fixing Autumn up with anyone and everyone.
"Okay, so..." Leah started and began to type on the iPad again. The question was simple: "Are you going to see him again?"
"I would definitely be interested in that, yes."
Leah looked as if Autumn had just agreed to give her the entire earnings from all her books combined. She reeled it in before anyone noticed the excitement on her face and mimicked Autumn's earlier professional nod.
"Well that's all I needed to know," she said. "Except, I just got an order through for you that needed your approval."
She tapped on a bookmark and up popped a beautiful white wedding dress.
"Shall I go ahead and order this?" She asked, unable to control her wink that accompanied it.
"I think that may be a little too hasty." Autumn said, rolling her eyes.
"Sure thing." Leah said and addressed the woman in front of them again. "Sorry about that, she's all yours."
Anywho, what I'm about to post is not in any way me giving up on the Utopia series as I have already written about five chapters of book two. But, as my brain is never happy with just over-achieving, but rather multi-tasking whilst I over achieve, it has been nagging me to at least write the prologue to this new dream inspired book.
On top of this, I am working full time, studying for my NVQ in business administration AND trying to organise a fund raiser for my trip to America... Yet somehow I still feel like I'm being lazy as well... I'm not too sure how this works, maybe I need to take something new on...
But anyway, I'm not sure when I'm going to write anymore about this book, I just needed to get the prologue down, otherwise my brain was ready to explode on me and that would have taken ages for The-Family I live with to clean.
I don't want to say much more about this book as of yet, except to say its more real life this time round rather than science fictiony.
Without further ado; I give you the prologue to my book "Wild Horses." Let me know what you think.
Prologue
Autumn peered through the small crack in the window blind. People filed in, one after the other, all carrying the same item. Her item. There were hundreds of people out there, she knew that the excited line of people went back for at least a mile. And they were all here to see her.
That was enough to set her over the edge, she shut the blind and immediately placed her head between her knees. Taking deep breaths, she tried desperately to stop the world from spinning around her.
"Sit down." Came Leah's familiar voice.
Autumn did as she was told and found a glass of Pepsi Max and a bar of Galaxy thrust in front of her.
"Take these and go to your comfort place." Leah said.
Autumn nodded and took both items readily. She crossed her legs on the chair, closed her eyes and took a sip and a bite. She refrained from the therapeutic ideation of a beach, it was too easy for her thoughts to stray, instead she picked her flat. She would give anything to be in her flat right now, away from the growing noise outside, somewhere she could just shut the door, crawl under her duvet and shut herself off from the world. She mentally shut the door to her flat and dragged the duvet to her beautiful sofa. There she lay watching reruns of That 70s Show and mouthing the words along with the characters.
She felt some of the stress ebb away. Her thoughts quietened and she allowed herself another portion of chocolate.
"Which episode of That 70s Show are you watching? Leah asked.
"Jackie and Hyde have just got together. No one else knows yet."
"Nice. Here you go."
Autumn opened her eyes to see an iPad in front of her. Season 4, Episode 1 all ready and waiting to be watched.
"You've got time." Leah said. "Watch it."
Autumn smiled at her PA. "What would I do without you?"
"Well, you'd still have your books, but I'm pretty certain you'd be a hermit by now."
Autumn accepted this to be pretty accurate and hit play on the tablet. The episode began and Leah backed away, leaving Autumn to it. Autumn settled into her chair and took another bite of chocolate. She was left undisturbed for the 20 minute episode.
As soon as she was finished and the end credits began to roll, Leah knocked on the door and popped her head into the room.
"It's time." She said.
Autumn nodded, all words escaping her. She slowly stood and walked on shaky legs out of the room and towards the shop floor.
"I think I'm going to throw up." Autumn said.
"You haven't thrown up for years." Leah answered. "Just 30 more seconds and you'll be there."
Autumn felt the waves of anxiety start to spin the room once more. "I don't think I'm going to make it."
Leah wrapped her arm around Autumn's waist, pushing her gently forward.
"Just one step after the other." She said. "Almost there."
As they reached the entrance to the floor, Autumn closed her eyes and held her breath. Stilling herself until she heard the words from the announcer outside.
"Ladies and Gents, the woman who never fails to make you laugh and cry simultaneously; I give you Autumn Blake!"
Leah pushed Autumn through the door at the sound of the people's cheers and Autumn opened her eyes, saw the crowd all looking at her expectantly and the switch was flipped. She smiled warmly at the growing cheers and waved at the people all screaming her name. Someone threw a pair of boxers at her and she caught them, laughing and holding them out for the audience to see.
"Alas, I don't think they're quite my size." She called out.
The crowd responded with laughter and cheers and a male voice called out.
"I made sure not to wash them after I wore them!"
Autumn laughed loudly and made sure to have as little contact as possible with the apparently dirty boxers, holding them between her forefinger and thumb.
"Wow. And I had hoped my fetish for dirty underwear would have been one of those secrets I'd have taken with me to the grave. Damn. How did you know?"
More laughter. Autumn laughed with them and glanced back at Leah who was ready with a ruler. Autumn placed them on the ruler and Leah left the room, the boxers held as far away from her as possible.
"Okay, well now that that's been taken care of." Autumn said. "Who would like me to sign some books?"
The roar that followed this question was deafening and Autumn rolled her eyes, motioning for the crowd to settle down as she made her way to the table. She reached for her book and opened it at the bookmarked page.
"I've been told that apparently people want me to read from it first." Autumn said. More cheers. "Lazy buggers." She said, once they had quietened down. "You could just read it yourselves, you know."
Laughter and applause. She smiled her winning smile and began the chapter. The room fell silent as she continued to read, her captive audience hanging on her every word. She shut them out and lost herself in her main protagonist. She loved this character above all characters she had written. She was balsy, sharp and everything that Autumn wished she could be. She was so lost in the book, she jumped when laughter erupted in response to her words. She looked up at the sea of faces.
"Sorry," she said. "I forgot you were all here. You gave me the shock of my life."
People cheered and she returned to her book, finishing the excerpt to a thunderous applause.
"I love you, Autumn!" Came a scream from the audience.
"Oh, so you're the one!" Autumn said back. "Nice to meet you. Okay, any questions?"
The rest of the hour sped by in a tirade of questions and compliments. Autumn accepted them all and answered excitedly. She loved this part of her job; talking to people about a world that, before she had out pen to paper, had never existed in their minds. She listened as people told her about the characters they identified with and the different characters they wished were real and married to. She soaked in it, knowing that this was the reason she continued to write; to be able to have moments like this. During that moment, she loved every person in that room, they were her people, each one an individual confirmation of why she gets out of bed each morning. In her dark days of self doubt and loathing, it was moments like this she drew on to give her hope. This large, ominous crowd who she was simultaneously in love with and terrified of.
Once the questions were drawn to a close, Autumn made a large gesture of stretching her fingers and grinned.
"Repetitive Strain Injury, here I come." She said, loudly. "Okay, who's first?"
People rushed forward and Autumn's cheeks began to burn from all the smiling she did. After a couple of hours of this, the smile began to fade a little, fatigue beginning to set in as well as some of the same panic she had experienced before. The crowd just didnt seem to ebb away. Once one load of people were filed out, another rush came in, demanding as much excitement and enthusiasm from her as their predecessors.
Leah was at her side then, once more showing how completely attuned she was to Autumn's feelings. She whispered in her ear.
"Break?" She asked.
Autumn looked at her with so much gratification that Leah instantly started laughing.
"You've worn her out!" She addressed the crowd. "Half an hour break and she'll be back."
There were groans amongst the crowd but at least no one threw anything nasty at her. Not that Autumn could think of anything worse than the used underwear from the morning.
Her break seemed to end all too quickly, she looked at her empty plate forlornly as the end credits from That 70s Show once more played on her iPad. The prospect of going back out there, again began to terrify Autumn.
"Just three more hours." Leah said. "You know you'll be fine when you get out there."
Autumn sighed but didn't answer. Instead she stood before she could convince herself otherwise and made her way back to the throng of people. Leah was right, of course. Once she was out there, food now in her belly and another episode of the only series that could relax her in her mind, she was back to operating at almost 100%. She joked with her readers and had her picture taken on their phones.
She was in full flow when he arrived at her table. Him, that beautiful, beautiful man who's features Autumn had always lusted over had matured and become even more prominent than the last time she had seen him. She heard him before she saw him though, her gaze was down as she finished signing the book of the person in front of him.
"You are a sight for sore eyes." He said.
The voice was so familiar, even though it too seemed to have matured. Her gaze shot up immediately and looked him square in his breath takingly stunning ice blue eyes.
"Elijah?" She said, in disbelief.
"Hey Autumn." He said.
A flood of memories rushed into Autumn's mind as she heard him say her name. Memories of melodramatic teenage feelings. He was everything she had ever wanted for most of her adolescent age yet she hadn't thought of him for so long. How had that happened? Who could forget that face?
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
Elijah laughed. "I was under the impression my favourite author was signing today. Turns out I was wrong but I figured I might as well get you to sign instead."
"Ah, the famous Elijah wit, it's been a while since I've heard that." Autumn replied, sliding back into their age old banter.
"Not as famous as yours, of course." He said. "Last I checked, BBC and Channel 4 didn't care enough to air what I have to say."
"Well, I'll make sure to send out a memo. Obviously that's a tragedy."
Elijah grinned once more. "I knew I could rely on you."
"Why the hell are you queuing up? All you had to do was get in touch with me, it would have saved you the trouble."
Elijah scrunched his face up at that. "Oh please woman," he said. "I carelessly ignore you for four years and then get in touch with you the moment you're rich and famous. You would have blocked me from your phone. I dread to think how many people have tried to capitalise on that."
"You didn't ignore me, you loser. I moved away."
"Still. I didn't want to take the piss."
Autumn rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to further protest but Elijah thrust his copy of her book in front of her. It was tattered and dog eared, it looked like it had been chucked about. She raised her eyebrows at it.
"Do you not know how to look after a book?" She asked.
"I like the well-read look."
"Well-read?" Autumn scoffed. "Elijah, this thing looks like it's been thrown at the bottom of a bag and forgotten about."
"So, I've taken it a few places with me." Elijah said, with a shrug.
Autumn let out a little giggle and opened the front cover.
"Who shall I make it out to?" She asked with a smile.
"Your name will do." He answered. "It will sell a lot easier on eBay if it doesn't have a name attached to it."
"I hate to break it to you, but no one is going to buy this book on eBay."
"What are you talking about? It's fine."
Autumn just shook her head and proceeded to sign her name inside the cover.
"Next time you get the urge to see me, just call me okay?" She said. "I'm officially giving you permission."
"Sure thing." Elijah said with a laugh. He saluted to Autumn. "See you around, Blake."
"Later, loser."
And he was gone. She watched him leave with a sigh, wishing that she'd somehow said more, done more. That was too fleeting.
"Oh my days, Autumn Blake, I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!" Autumn forced away her gaze from Elijah's exit and smiled her warmest smile at her next fan.
She'd signed several more books before Leah came and sat next to her and addressed the person arriving at the table.
"My apologies, I just need a moment with Autumn." She said with her best smile. "Autumn, I just have a few urgent things to go over with you.
She then proceeded to thrust her iPad in front of Autumn. On it she had written: "Who was that beautiful man? How do you know him? Is he single? And if so, why are you not hitting that?"
Autumn suppressed the urge to laugh and nodded professionally, smiling apologetically at the woman standing in front of her.
"I see," she said to Leah. "Yes well that would have to be filed away in the early years of the character's life. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to answer everything they need here. She is a complex character."
"Don't I know it." Leah said with a roll of her eyes. "Can you at least respond to this one?"
She underlined the "Is he single?" question with her finger.
"I don't have an answer for that at this point."
"Do you know when you might have an answer?"
"I have no timeline for that, no."
"Would you like me to look into it?"
"No need." Autumn said, giving her a warning look. This woman was hellbent on fixing Autumn up with anyone and everyone.
"Okay, so..." Leah started and began to type on the iPad again. The question was simple: "Are you going to see him again?"
"I would definitely be interested in that, yes."
Leah looked as if Autumn had just agreed to give her the entire earnings from all her books combined. She reeled it in before anyone noticed the excitement on her face and mimicked Autumn's earlier professional nod.
"Well that's all I needed to know," she said. "Except, I just got an order through for you that needed your approval."
She tapped on a bookmark and up popped a beautiful white wedding dress.
"Shall I go ahead and order this?" She asked, unable to control her wink that accompanied it.
"I think that may be a little too hasty." Autumn said, rolling her eyes.
"Sure thing." Leah said and addressed the woman in front of them again. "Sorry about that, she's all yours."
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