Life Imitating Art?

Gosh, is it a year since my last blog? To be fair, 2022 has been one of the worst years of my life. My dad's rapid decline into Alzheimer's and moving into residential care, getting their bungalow sold and helping my mum move into sheltered housing, and culminating in facing and dealing with childhood trauma this last couple of months.

I've just got my teeth 'done'. After a childhood accident, I had extensive cosmetic dental work in my teens and early twenties. Now, as I'm approaching 60 at ever-increasing speed, my young, cool and scarily-experienced dentist at my new shiny modern dental practice told me my bridgework was failing and the remaining teeth would not support a simple repair/replace job. So after much discussion, I opted for full dental implants and had the surgery a few days ago. It's not been an easy journey as I've never really dealt with the childhood trauma; I haven't slept properly for a month or more and the whole experience is occupying 95% of my brain right now as I sit on the sofa on sick leave from work and looking like a hamster. I'm seriously considering some counselling in the New Year. Things can only get better!

But the reason for the title of this post is to do with the actual surgery. I opted for for full sedation and was slightly amused when they told me it would be midazolam. In the second book of my series Paying the Piper, that's the drug my bad guys use to sedate Michael when they have to take him into town to meet with other bad guys. I researched delivery methods and effects and I'm pleased to say I got it spot-on! One syringe into the cannula in my elbow and I felt like I was two bottles of wine down on a good night out. Apparently I had another two syringes and I don't remember anything of the first couple of hours. Andy says he could see my blood pressure dropping as the stuff was going in, which considering my BP was probably stratospheric at the start, can only be a good thing! After that I was conscious and I recall vague snippets of conversation and things happening, but I wasn't the least bit bothered by any of it - it was like watching a movie.

So a drastic way to do research. But why let an experience go to waste? I might as well let something positive come out of it. At least I got it right as I'd hate having to do a rewrite! Onwards and upwards.

Blogging Arvon

Scary stories read out loud late at night in a big old barn. Yorkshire, middle-of-nowhere, halfway down the valley at the end of a steep lane. It’s late November and the weather forecast is for high winds and snow tonight. 

Sounds a bit of a cliché, doesn’t it? Read more ...

(c) Ariell Cacciola

On Not-Reviewing

I’ve just read a book. No surprises there. It was OK, I suppose – I’d probably give it a 3-4 on Amazon if I left a review. It was readable, certainly. Not unputdownable (if that’s even a word) and it didn’t have a twist-I-wouldn’t-see-coming. Or did it? 

I can’t review this book. Because if I did, I’d have to say what I liked/didn’t like. And what I didn’t like would be a massive spoiler and unfair on the author and future readers. It’s published by Thomas & Mercer, which I believe is Amazon’s own publishing arm? All the more reason not to put spoilers in reviews! 

You see, the twist-I-wouldn’t-see-coming should have been obvious for anyone with half a brain to work out – if the author had played fair with the reader. And by playing fair, I mean been transparent, let the reader properly experience the story through the eyes of the characters as it unfolds. In this novel, we have 3 distinct points of view so we ought to be completely inside the heads of 3 different characters. Since all 3 characters interact closely throughout the story, I’d expect – as the reader – to be fully immersed in exactly how the each POV-character is thinking and feeling in relation to the other 2 characters. But I’m not. It’s only in the final pages of the book that I realise that one character has done something pivotal to turn the story on its head. Thinking back, I can see that there is a clue (although it’s planted quite far on in the book, which doesn’t seem fair), BUT the character doesn’t think about this AT ALL throughout the entire novel. Not until the last two pages. 

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I’m pretty sure that if I was plotting to kill somebody. I’d be thinking about it constantly. Day and night. Anything written from my perspective would have to include those thoughts – especially if somebody else gets there first and murders my prospective victim! At the very least, I’d be thankful that somebody saved me the job and at least nobody will suspect me now! And to not even hint at it at all via the character’s thoughts is cheating the character and cheating the reader. Not fair.

No review from me.

Is it appropriate?

Serious and potentially controversial topic this month: Cultural appropriation. Hear me out.

Read more ...

Aunty Debbie Returns ...

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? So you all thought Aunty Debbie’s helpful problem page had ceased trading since the last post? Well, no such luck – I’m still here and still dispensing wisdom like oil of cloves on a rotting tooth. And probably about as useful …

Read more ...

Of Sons, Psychopaths & Series

Andy and I are currently binge-watching Netflix. That’s a strange 21^st century expression – binge-watching. Watching a series to excess, gorging ourselves, although to be fair, sometimes it’s only an episode a night and we might even a skip a few nights if we are out and about. We’re season 5 now, of apparently 7 seasons and I have no idea where we are going or what might happen.

Read more ...

I’m reading a book about a boy. It’s a new paperback – I picked it up in Waterstones as part of a buy-one-get-one-half-price deal. I got up to page 6 and was tempted to throw the book across the room.

Why? Because the title says boy, the blurb says little boy and the cover shows a picture of a young (white Caucasian) boy. With all the references, I think it’s safe to assume that the cover is meant to depict the boy in question. But page 6, and the protagonist is pondering the ethnicity of the boy in question as he is so dark-skinned.

So why is our cover model white? Dark haired yes, and not white white. But clearly of Caucasian origin. Do the publishers think the book will sell more copies if the cover shows a white person? Does it matter? I think it does, yes. I read a lot of articles campaigning for more culturally-diverse fiction and I think it’s important – especially for children – to be able to read about characters ‘like’ themselves, to identify with them and maybe aspire to be like them. I’m not far enough into this book yet to know whether said boy’s ethnic origins are important to the story, but since it’s important enough to mention and important enough to wonder about, it ought to be important enough to find a child for the cover that at least looks the part.

I’m not saying that all book covers should replicate the story in minute detail. God knows I’ve seen enough bad covers where the author has insisted on having a dragon, a sword, a red-headed female warrior, a magical artefact and a wizard with stars on his cape (because that’s what the story is about, don’t you know?) – and the result is cluttered, amateur and frankly silly. A cover is meant to convey genre, give you a hint of the style of the book and entice you to read the blurb and then the opening paragraph. But since the cover of my book is just a boy, why on earth couldn’t it be a dark-skinned boy?

And now I've just looked on Amazon and it's a title-stuffer: A gripping psychological thriller full of twists you won't see coming ... No really, I will. Trust me on that one.

Sigh.