My son is five months old

It feels like forever and yet no time at all. Finally though I have come up for air, or been brave enough to put my head above the parapet to see what wreckage of my former life is still standing.

“Don’t make any plans for the first six months,” a work colleague(mother of two girls) said.

I nodded. Didn’t believe her. All babies do is sleep, right?

Sort of true. He sleeps on me mostly. His cot is an offence to his delicate baby sensibilities.

“Mwhaha. You will never be early for anything again,” My brother (father of a boy and a girl) texts me when I tell him I will be ten minutes late. No, make that twenty.

And I thought I had no time to write before baby was born.

It’s a whole new world. Honestly, nothing prepared me for the complete mind bending wonder, and emotional and mental fuckery of it.  He is amazing and exhausting. Constantly.

And I’ve made it through. Am still making it through and rebuilding. Or reinventing rather because now nothing is ever static. I am reinventing my life because it just got more beautiful.


R.I.P Challenge: Seriously, what just happened? White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi.

Have you ever read a book that made you wish you were smarter? Or that you’d read it slower? You enjoyed it, but felt that there was something the writer was trying to do or say that you just didn’t get?

That’s how I felt about White is for Witching. It’s a gorgeous, tangled nightmare of a book.  There was a haunted house, matriarchal ghosts, a mad Gothic heroine and fascinating supporting characters.

The plot never really moved though.  Miranda Silver (the Gothic heroine) is mad. She stays mad until either;

  • She has a break down and runs away;
  • She is murdered;
  • She is absorbed by the house and joins her family ghosts.

Nothing about her really changes, and she never really tries to change.

It’s all very disturbing, but it remains only disturbing.  The overwhelming feeling of dread and claustrophobia that Oyeyemi conjures is absorbing (I couldn’t put the book down) but never really grows to become anything else.  The moments that should have been really frightening were more puzzling because I felt distanced from her characters and/or was never really sure what was going on (or in which reality it was happening.)

Has anyone else read this? Or read anything else by Oyeymi? I’d really like to know what you thought.

For more information on Readers Imbibing Peril (R.I.P) go to Estellas’ Revenge  or My Capricious Life

You can also follow the Twitter hashtag #RIPXII





R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril (R.I.P)

The R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril Halloween blog hop is here again!  While the rest of the world is preparing to sleep, I have kicked off my coffin lid and have crawled through cobwebs to make it to my book shelf.

Last year I read some Gothic Horror, and this year my peril is fairy tales.  I want to remember how scary then can be.

NOS4R2 by Joe Hill – maybe stretching the theme already, but the big bad is a vampiric pied pipe/Santa Claus.  Plus his henchman gasses the victims with gingerbread flavoured smoke, so that has to be a fairy tale, right?

White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi –  A Snow White Murder Mystery

Tinder by Sally Gardner – A retelling of the Tinderbox with a werewolf on the front cover.  Yay, werewolf!




Insecure Writer’s Support Group – April

Insecure Writer’s Support Group is brought to you every month by Alex J. Cavanaugh. Follow the link to learn more and share your insecurities, anxieties and troubles with a supportive community.

This week’s (optional) question is Have you taken advantage of the annual A to Z Challenge in terms of marketing, networking, publicity for your book? What were the results?

Er, The What?

If you’re as clueless as me see here. I was tempted to join this month, but have recently managed to crack Twitter, so am currently having too much fun playing hashtags games at #WIPJoy, #WIPAprilFolly and #authorconfession

Then there’s #1lineWed, #FolkloreThursday #SlapDashSat and #ShakespeareSunday.

And I wonder why I have no time.

The reason I like those games though is that it gets me talking and interacting with people. Sometimes we talk about our books, but other times it’s arguing Austen or advice on crab’s legs.

The A to Z challenge looks like it will be provoke a similar connection with people out there, and I’m looking forward to reading other IWSG posts on it – and some of the blogs that participate.  It’s something that I think I would like to put in to my calender for next time.

Happy IWSG day everybody.





Fake it Away – Insecure Writer’s Support Group March

Insecure Writer’s Support Group is hosted by Alex J. Cavanaugh.  To find out more and sign up visit the link.    IWSG Badge

This month I have also been organised enough to answer the optional question. Virtual cookies for everyone.

Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it?

The first story I had published (and I mean, like totally grown up published with actual payment and a contract, and everything) was a reworking of something I wrote in my teens.

I was so  excited. I jumped. I squealed. I told everyone, and everyone was suitably impressed. They all wanted copies of the anthology my story would be in. They all expected me to be the one buying said copies.

This led to the second lesson I learned (the first being just send the damn story off already because what have you really got to lose?)

Second lesson. It’s great that family and friends want to support me, but next time I will give them a website link and get them to buy their own.

It gets ridiculous very quickly. Add to this guilt that grandparents, work colleagues, boyf’s family etc. would not normally have an iota of interest in vampire slash/YA romance/fairy-tale mash ups/barely concealed feminist re-workings of the top ten moments in history that make me angry (pick your poison) so I felt bad about asking for the money I’d spent back.

Not a sensible way to make a profit.  Less sensible to put my boyfriend’s dad in the position of being that far inside my head.  ‘I liked your story,’ he said sympathetically, ‘but what did it actually mean?’

I do not regret supporting the publication that gave me a chance, but next time I will be so much cooler and controlled about the whole thing. Self-help gurus are always saying fake it until you make it, and I have solemnly sworn to fake it like a demon.

On the outside anyway. On the inside I will always be the girl jumping up and down and squealing.

image courtesy of Pixaby

How about you? What have you learned from publishing? Have you ever re-worked an old story?

Walking, a Welsh Tale and the Dangers of Over Thinking.

The first time I heard the story of Gelert the hound I was on a family holiday in Wales, and as it’s The Year of Legends for Wales with St David’s Day around the corner I’ve been revisiting the tale.

The Myths and Legends podcast has a brilliant re-telling of the story, although it’s the last one of the show

image from Wikimedia Commons

In essence: King Llewellyn goes hunting and returns to find the room of his infant son ransacked, with the cradle toppled and blood everywhere.  His favourite hound, Gelert, is there with a bloody muzzle.  Llewellyn kills Gelert in revenge for his son and then hears a baby crying.  His son is alive, and there is also a wolf’s corpse in the room. Gelert had been protecting the baby prince all along.  Llewellyn erects a monument for his faithful dog and never smiles again.

This is where I come in, walking past that monument with my mum telling me the story. It made me cry. Partly for Gelert and partly because we had a family dog who walked with us, although I could never imagine blind, ditzy Goldie, taking down a wolf to save my baby brother.

I had fantasies of re-writing the story to save Gelert.  I never liked that Gelert died and as I got older I blamed Llewellyn.

Where was his wife? His servants? Why didn’t he think? Why did he go hunting if he couldn’t find his dog? I’m afraid that I’m quite like him. I will often act blindly, too full of my own emotion to see straight.

The hot mix of shame and regret following my impulsive lashing out makes me identify with Llewellyn. Yes, he felt sorry afterwards, but the unthinkable had already been done.

Now I’m also angry at Gelert for being so nice, and for thinking Llewellyn’s opinion was more important than his own life.

It reminds me of the film Stage Beauty where the female actor criticises her male predecessor over his representation of Desdomona by raging, ‘You just died! Beautifully!’ and ‘A woman would fight!’

Yes, I have issues.

I want Gelert to fight because I don’t quite believe that he would just submit. Or he would at least have the savvy to reveal the dead wolf, because just where the hell was that hiding, anyway?

 Maybe I’m scared I’m like Gelert too. Too nice and too willing to put others before myself. Maybe I’m scared that when it comes right down to it, I wouldn’t fight for what was just either?

What stories from you past touched you? Which ones still come back to haunt you?

Romantic Fantasies

My appreciation for romance novels didn’t start until my early 30s. Growing up my heart did, and still does, belong to fantasy.

Image from Pixaby

However when dredging my mind for a Valentine’s Day post I can see that, even when (or perhaps because) they weren’t the main focus of the plot, romantic relationships in fantasy novels have left their mark on me.

Eowyn/Faramir (The Lord of the Rings)

As a geeky, gangly girl who didn’t understand why being able to quote Monty Python wasn’t a desirable quality in a school disco date, I found it reassuring that while Aragorn rejected Eowyn, there was a man out there for her.

A better man who would appreciate the amazingness of her. Like Eowyn I just had to be patient and find my Faramir. Looking back I do have concerns about the wild shield maiden of Rohan being caged up in Gondor, but when you’re thirteen it’s all about the happy ending.

Carrot/Angua (The Discworld Novels)

It bothers Angua that she’s a werewolf, and she spends the early books constantly poised for flight.

That Angua is a werewolf bothers Carrot not at all. You could make an argument for the fact that Carrot is too nice to really appreciate the social implications of having a girlfriend that can rip throats out. However, closer and prolonged reading shows that Carrot is not really as nice as you think he is.

In the later books the werewolf jokes in the Watch House locker room do seem to bothe Carrot, but only on Angua’s behalf and she is more than capable of dealing with them herself.

The last hint we have of their relationship is that they are living together. It’s a throw away line in someone else’s story (and I was in my early thirties then) but my fifteen-year-old self was so pleased that they had made it to that stage. It validated my belief that they could work their differences out.

Despite her dark and awkward secrets Angua found love with a man who accepted who she was.  A man who has some awkward secrets of his own.  Remember, you may think you’re strange, but no stranger than some the boys out there.


I do feel that Shakespeare sold me out with the drugging and manipulating Oberon does, but the first scene between them always gets my heart beating.

Oberon:Am not I thy lord?

Titania: Then I must be thy lady

Image from Pixaby

No arguing with that.

I think this was the first thing I really noticed that showed it was ok to be powerful in a relationship and to fight your corner, and that it was ok to say no to sex and be incensed at your partner while still loving them.

Titania was my heroine through my A-Levels (I had yet to meet Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing and think it was a good idea to eat men’s hearts in marketplaces). One day I’m going to write a story where the two of them reach a compromise without narcotics, or where Titania finds out about the narcotics and takes Oberon to task for it.

By the time I was seventeen I wanted more from my happy endings, or maybe I was ready to look beyond them and see how rich and complicated romance could be.

What are you favorite fictional romances – from any genre?