Narrow Escapes

When we were kids, my brother owned a copy of The Book of Narrow Escapes. Aimed at children, it was full of stories about people who survived experiences like falling out of planes (as you do), or getting lost in the Amazon: always follow a river downstream to civilization was the advice, though how a child – or this adult – knows the difference between upstream and downstream escapes me, and not narrowly, either.  Come to think of it, I’m not sure that book, full of horror stories along the lines of Alive! was suitable reading for kids.  Unless I’m thinking like a be-fair-everyone-has-to-come-first-and-be-safe millennial.  Or a mum.

This morning, I was humming the tune to the seventies’ show Black Beauty because of a Facebook meme I’d seen, and that got me thinking that I read Black Beauty as a child and found it tedious, but loved The Book of Narrow Escapes – me, who never took a risk in her life unless it involved eating my weight in chocolate and thus the possibility of an obese, diabetic future.

As I was on the loo while all of this thinking was happening, that naturally reminded me of my own narrow escape, about twenty years ago: I went to the loo one day, finished, stood, turned around, and there were two wasps, flying around the neck of the bowl!  Talk about a squeaky bum moment.  To this day, I can’t sit on the loo without first inspecting it.  Thoroughly.  So if I visit your house and you catch me at it 1) I’m looking for stinging insects, not dirt and 2) why are you in the bathroom with me?

Do you have your own squeaky bum moment to share?

Two Songs & A Book

First, Alex singing Celie’s song I’m Here from The Colour Purple in Miscast the other week:

Next, do yourself a favour – two favours – sign up to BookBub and download lots of free books to your Kindle…and then delete half of them because they’re terrible, but at least you didn’t pay for them; and the good ones are worth wading through the dross.

And do it TODAY, so you can get a free copy while it’s available of Penny Reid’s Neanderthal Seeks Human.  She writes witty, intelligent romances with quirky characters and I own every book she’s written and hate that I discovered her while she’s still writing because I have to wait for the next book, and the next, and the next…you get the idea.

How can I convey the depth of my love for her books?  If I tell you I would spend my Malteser money on them, would that do it?  

My favourite line: This is the mammals all over again.

Go and get it NOW!  It’s FREE!

Finally, Alex and the other Colla Voce Boys in Chicago’s Cell Block Tango:

Tom Fleck & The Black Caravel

My friend Harry Nicholson asked me to review his new novel, The Black Caravel. I helped proofread his last one, Tom Fleck, but I’ve had no hand in this book.

So, first impression: I loved it!  It’s quite a short novel but packed with incident and likeable and interesting characters.

The Black Caravel is a sequel to Tom Fleck.  The latter is fully titled Tom Fleck: A novel of Cleveland and Flodden, and is set in 1513.  The novel tells the story of 18-year old Tom and his adventures, which climax at the Battle of Flodden.  You can read more about it here; as well as the first chapter.  I highly recommend it.

The Black Caravel is set twenty-three years later, in 1536, when Tom is a happily married family man.  From the blurb:

1536 is a year of rebellion against Henry VIII’s seizure of England’s abbeys. Barbary corsairs raid northwards.  Despite the turmoil, Tom Fleck must journey to London.

You don’t need to have read the first book to make sense of the second – Harry reminds us of pertinent details quite seamlessly – but, as I might have mentioned, I recommend that you do, just for the joy of reading good historical fiction.

I confess to loving Tom Fleck.   He is brave, principled and adventurous.  He’s what is popularly described as a book boyfriend: the man I would marry (after Jamie Fraser) if I could somehow dispose of the Hub without going to jail, assuming of course that I could bring a fictional character to life and he wouldn’t object to my complete lack of skills that would fit me to live in the 16th century (me being no Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser).

What I love about Harry’s books, however, handsome hero aside, are the fascinating details he weaves into his stories.  I now know how to prepare a rabbit for the pot, making sure to steep it in brine overnight; and that gulls dine on dead men’s eyes first (despite that nugget, let me assure you that the books are not gruesome, although they don’t shy away from the unpleasant realities of their setting).  I discovered from reading the books that Harry has a real love of nature which is not something that appeals to me, and yet it was engrossing to learn for example of the herbs that freshen your mouth or which heal in some way. 

Harry has a background in seafaring and his knowledge litters the pages of The Black Caravel without showing off in any way.  He writes what he knows, and the books are better for it.  

Perhaps more importantly, Harry has a way of getting to the nitty-gritty of his subject matter, leaving us to draw parallels to today:

Tom watched them depart and wondered at the brave poverty.  It was a topsy-turvy world.  Such a struggle to live.  Hard knocks and cold drownings, and all the while velvet-clad folk in London’s great halls dined on swan.

Dining on swan aside, I couldn’t help thinking of the modern world with its food banks; it’s rich/poor divide; its drowning, desperate refugees.  A struggle to live indeed.

So, I’ll say it again, even though I’ve said it twice before:

                                                Tom Fleck and The Black Caravel:

                                                                               highly recommended!

The books are available on Kindle or in paperback:

Tom Fleck: Amazon UK, Amazon US

The Black Caravel: Amazon UK, Amazon US In the UK, this book is currently available free with Kindle Unlimited, so why not buy the first one at its very reasonable price of £2.24?

Incidentally, Harry is a gifted enamellist (I think they’re called).  Check his blog for some wonderful work; including the two originals which are his books’ covers.

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And finally…

From Wikipedia:

Muphry’s law is an adage that states: “If you write anything criticizing editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written.”^[1] The name is a deliberate misspelling of Murphy’s law.

Just so you know, although it wasn’t a criticism, when I wrote, I helped proofread his last one, Tom Fleck, I actually wrote: I helped proofread his last one., Tom Fleck.

There’s a reason Muphry has his own Law.

Free eBooks!

I came across this site and I thought some of you might be interested: bookbub.com

Subscribe, tick your preferences, and an email will alert you to when free ebooks are available.

Read this article for more details.

For Books’ Sake

Look what I won in a For Books’ Sake competition!

Free books – life doesn’t get any better.  🙂

Joke 871

Dangit. This book is great. (Photo credit: Brendan Lynch)

• I’ve just taken up speed reading. Last night I did War And Peace in 20 seconds.  I know it’s only three words, but it’s a start.
• I went to the book shop earlier to buy a Where’s Wally book. When I got there, I couldn’t find the book anywhere.  Well played Wally, well played.
• I’ve been thinking of writing a mystery novel.  Or have I?
• I went to Waterstones today to get a book about conspiracies.  They didn’t have any.  Coincidence?
• Breaking News: Archaeologists digging at the site of Shakespeare’s house have uncovered thousands of monkey skeletons.
• I’ve just published a book on DIY.  It’s blank and comes with a free pen.

From funnyjokes.

 

Cold Calling An Author Can Sometimes Pay Off

I once acted out of character and it paid off.

Let me explain: I am quite shy.  No, really.

It is easy to be gregarious on (I was going to say ‘paper’ but I guess technically it’s) plastic; much harder in real life when the person you are talking to is not behind a monitor six thousand miles away going ‘Huh? Wazzsheonabout?’ but standing right in front of you, rictus grin plastered on face, thinking, ‘Huh? Wazzsheonabout?’

I’m rubbish at cold calling; at asking strangers for something.  I once had a job as a Carpet Cleaning Saleswoman (it was the early Eighties; I wasn’t a person then). I had to go door-to-door to tell people that they needed me because their carpets were dirty.  All for an alleged weekly wage of £75.

I was so bad at cold calling and made so few sales (ten-day total sales: zero), they put me on commission at the end of the first week (it was the early Eighties; I had no rights that I knew of, being eighteen and stupid).  In one month I earned a grand total of £9.

If they had only asked me to write to the customers, it might have been a different story.  As this one is turning out to be, because it’s about my writing group.  No, really.

I saw an article in our local paper about a local writer who had just published her third book –  actually, it was her second book, although she has written her third book; the reporter got it wrong – may his rugs remain forever filthy – despite the author sending him the details in cold hard ether.  Fortunately, I didn’t know that at the time, or this might have been a different story (not really, but repetition is a good comedy device and I’m feeling facetious today, even a little lightheaded, not having blogged at you for five days).

I read in the Stockport Express that author Allie Cresswell had not only published her third book [not], but she lived in Stockport and had a website.  I moseyed on over to her website by way of dinner, dessert, crisps and a bar of chocolate, and thought she looked friendly enough, so I girded up my now ample loins and popped off an email.

That’s the bit that was out of character – I cold called an author.  Yo!  I said, I belong to Stockport Writers.  We have no money; will you come and talk to us for free?

Yes, she replied; I’d love to.  I’m pretty sure my charm and erudition won her over.

Emails were exchanged; details were organised (please run the whole session, however you like, but don’t arrive before eleven because the Art Gallery won’t let us in until then because of insurance issues, I think); cake purchased in honour of our guest.  The great day arrived…

All joking aside, it was a great day.   Warm and friendly, Allie told us a bit about herself (passing off the sloppy journalist’s carelessness as just one of those things…so magnanimous*), her writing background and her career. Then she read from one of her books – we enjoyed it so much, we asked for more.  After a break for tea and cake (these loins won’t amplify themselves, you know), Allie set us a writing exercise, which had everyone interested and animated.  To keep things fresh, we do rotate the chair each month, as in, a different person chairs each month’s meeting; we don’t sit in swivel chairs and circulate stationarily (the gallery staff keep those chairs to themselves; we can’t complain because they let us use the space for free).  To have someone entirely new set the prompt made us all a little giddy, and produced some wonderful freewriting.

*If I appear to be losing it a little here, it’s because I am.  Remember my magnum opus (I Went To London To Be On Telly And Get Free Stuff)?  It might have turned out all right in the end, but that sloppy – and somewhat vindictive – journalism has made me over-sensitive.  Besides, that Stockport Express journalist didn’t publicise our guest speaker like I asked him to in my second – and last – out of character cold calling email.  May his rugs remain forever filthy.

Allie brought some of her books and I felt, having strong-armed her into coming along, that I ought to buy at least one of the novels, but I didn’t have enough money on me.   Fortunately, she sells them for Kindle, and I was able to buy two for less than the price of one hard copy.   Even more of a bargain, the Amazon account is hooked up to the Hub’s credit card and not mine so, technically, I got them for nothing.  And I had cake!  What a great day.  Our guest also got a booking, from one of our writers who attends another group, so it was a win-win situation.

Now I come to the reason why I haven’t blogged for five days: I started one of the books, Relative Strangers.  As a pretty woman might say, big mistake; huge. You should see the state of my house – I’ve done no housework because all I wanted to do was read; and the dogs aren’t talking to me.

The book explores the dynamics of family life by gathering together one extended family in a large house for one week.

At first, I was confused by the sheer number of characters but I soon worked out who was married to whom and had which children and which in-laws and which rooms and cars and grievances and grudges.  The book is packed with incident and was a really interesting and fun read, but not fun in the way – I hope – this post is fun.  It was a fascinating exploration of relationships: the characters, for the most part, were neither good nor bad, but human, with foibles and faults like we all have.

The ending surprised me.  And that’s all I’ll say, because I don’t want to give anything away.  If you like surprises, don’t read the blurb on the website because it tells you in which direction the ending heads.

There were more typos than I usually approve of but I let them pass because I enjoyed the book so much.  I only mention them because I want this to be a balanced critique.  Definitely recommended.  You can trust me; it’s not like I’m a journalist (sorry, Kateshreswdaytheexception).

You can find Allie’s website here; and her books on Amazon here; and here. They are available on Amazon.com as well as the UK site.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post because you may not get another for at least the next five days: I have her other book to read.

 

Joke 719

Questions Asked of Canadian Reference Librarians:

Funny shelving category at San Francisco’s Kayo Books: CATHOLIC GUILT (Photo credit: gruntzooki)

• Do you have books here?
• Do you have that book by Rushdie, Satanic Nurses? [Actual title: Satanic Verses]
• I am looking for a list of laws that I can break that would send me back to jail for a couple of months.
• Can you tell me why so many famous Civil War battles were fought on National Park sites?
• Do you have a list of all the books I’ve ever read?
• Do you have any books with photographs of dinosaurs?

Forbidden Library Titles For Children:

• Gerbil Merry-Go-Round and Other Great Microwave Games
• Fifty New Places to Poke a Pencil
• Flying Lessons for Kittens

From Will & Guy.

Joke 600

From writersjokes.

The Mouth that Roared | 292/365 (Photo credit: mfhiatt)

A hungry lion came across two men. One was sitting under a tree, reading a book; the other was typing away on his typewriter.

The lion pounced on the man reading the book and devoured him.  He ignored the man who was typing.

Even the king of the jungle knows that readers digest, and writers cramp.

A Cup Of Coco

Image by hto2008 via Flickr

I have no fashion sense, no style, no elegance.  Having no elegance, I had to opt for funny.  It is impossible to be funny and elegant.

I have nothing in common with Coco Chanel.  I have never been independent, or set up a business, or associated with disreputable types.  I don’t like her perfume: I think No.5 smells like cheap market stall concoctions (I’ve known a few), and it smells even worse on me.  It is as if my body is anti-style: quite apart from expensive perfume being allergic to me, I am too short for clothes to look good; my feet are too big for my height; my chest is neither one thing nor the other.  It’s why I never really fought the fat; there didn’t seem much point.

I will never pay obscene prices for clothes and handbags and perfume and accessories and jewellery and a room to store them all in.  The only connection I will ever have with Miss Chanel is this post.  I thought, if Radio 4 can do it, why can’t I?

Today is Coco’s 128th birthday.  She died in 1971 so she probably won’t be at the party.  Justine Picardie has written a new biography of Chanel and the Today programme invited her to appear, along with a previous biographer who claimed Chanel was more Nazi than she let on.  His rage at Picardie’s claims (she wasn’t more Nazi than she let on) made him appear venomous and unrestrained; quite the contrast to Picardie’s cool rebuttal.  She was so cool and rebutting, I could see why Chanel might be an attractive choice of subject.

I am never cool and hardly ever rebut.  Just this week, I had a slight issue (so slight, it could have been me at British size 6; I was once, you know.  Sigh.) with one of Nancy’s excellent posts.  I made my point in the comments; she countered; I thought, fair point, and didn’t reply because I had no comeback and don’t stick to an argument for the sake of it.

I suspect Coco did.  Consider some of her famous quotes:

• A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.  Ah well.  I’m not even a girl these days.
• Fashion is architecture: it is a matter of proportions.  By that reasoning, I am an abandoned bunker.
• I don’t know why women want any of the things men have when one the things that women have is men.  Ouch!
• It is always better to be slightly underdressed.  Tell that to the Inuit.
• ‘Where should one use perfume?’ a young woman asked. ‘Wherever one wants to be kissed,’ I said.  She really didn’t like men, did she?  How horrible she must have tasted.
• Nature gives you the face you have at twenty. Life shapes the face you have at thirty. But at fifty you get the face you deserve.  Can’t believe I did anything bad enough to deserve this face.

I can’t write about Coco Chanel without mentioning that famous Monroe quote: asked what she wore in bed, Marilyn replied, ‘Chanel No. 5.’  Now that’s style.

You won’t be surprised to learn that I wear fleecy pyjamas and most of the duvet.  I may not have style, but I’m always warm.

Related articles

• Coco Chanel Was Nazi Spy, Claims Book (abcnews.go.com)
• New book claims Coco Chanel was Nazi spy (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• Coco Chanel was bisexual, new biography claims (pinkbananaworld.com)
• Get the Look: Coco Avant Chanel (casasugar.com)
• Midday Muse: Coco Chanel’s Stylish Staircase (casasugar.com)

All About Me

Image via Wikipedia

List the 5 most important books you’ve ever read.

Matthew, Mark, Luke, John & When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit.

The first four taught me about love and the last one about the effects of hate.

What does love mean to you?

Never having to share my Maltesers.  If they love me, they’ll leave me to feast alone.

What’s one “luxury” you refuse to live without?

Earl Grey teabags.  No joke.  I never joke about tea.

If you could spend a day doing anything you wanted, what would you do?

Blogging, of course.  Whilst eating Maltesers and drinking Earl Grey tea.

Who was the first person who believed in you?

My Dad.  When I was put in his arms he said to my Mum, ‘Doesn’t she look intelligent?’

You can fool some of the people all of the time…

Explain the name of your blog and why you chose it.

I’m a housewife.  I laugh (you know what they say will happen if you don’t laugh).

I hope you laugh, too.  It doesn’t have to be at me.

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I just read this and I have to share it; it is originally from Twitter, but I read it on Manchester Meanders:

Twitter: @Harrietgregory: Quote from Waterstone’s employee on the news: “We’ll stay open, if they steal some books they might learn something” #londonriots

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101/1001 (19) A Re-Think

I have been forced to re-think some of my targets because I have reached and even surpassed quite a few.  Not this first one, though; I may have set my sights a mite too high on this one:

Ride my bike twenty out of thirty days. (0/30)

Decorating, an absent child and several migraines mean I have barely been out on my new old bike; certainly not enough to say I have started this challenge.  I tell you this in an effort to shame myself into getting back in the saddle again.

Find another 64 challenges for the list.  (27/64)

I have a new challenge, inspired by Elizabeth of 1sojournal, who did it with poetry:

Find 26 unfamiliar words, one for each letter of the alphabet; then use them in a post a day for 26 days. (Words: 5/26)

Expose myself to four new experiences (3/4)

This week’s enjoyment of baking was definitely a new experience for me!

I think I set my target too low for 1001 days, so I will adjust it to twenty new experiences.

This challenge is related to

Try out three new recipes (6/3)

I didn’t expect to complete this one so soon, if at all, so I will up the target to 15.  I don’t want to put too much pressure on me; who knows when I’ll next feel like cooking?  The urge may never come around again in my lifetime.

Submit thirty poems to competitions or publishers (7/30)

I sent off a poem this week; and I plan to send another to a different competition.

The poem I sent is probably too lighthearted for the judges; but I adhered to the theme and it was free to enter, so I sent it anyway.  If only to stop Viv nagging me.

Read thirty books (15/30)

I’m already halfway through this challenge so I think I’d better up the ante to 101 books.

This week I read the last Dick Francis; and finally finished a book I started two years ago and came across when I was rearranging the bedroom in an effort to locate the power lead for my netbook.  I failed, but the book was compensation.

Called Dear First Lady, it’s a selection of letters to and from, well, American First Ladies.  A fascinating insight if you’re into that sort of thing, which I am.  And a reminder that my husband buys the most thoughtful presents in the world.  If only I would stop misplacing them.

Write 101 new poems (153/101)

We are at Day 133 of 1001 and I have already written 153 poems.  I think I may have underestimated my poem-writing capacity just a little.  As a result, this target is going up to…drum roll please…1001.  A poem a day.

Gulp.

Reach 13000 comments on my blog (11,878/13,000)

The rate at which I am reaching this one caught me by surprise.  I thought I was stretching a point by aiming for 13000.  I’m going to double it and add the number I first thought of, to make it 30,000.

Double gulp.

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As you can see, a lot of re-thinking of original targets has taken place.  Either I was unrealistic to start with, or the cake-baking success has gone straight to my head.  Time will tell.

Don’t forget to check out the other 101ers, to my right.  And we still welcome new challengers.  You should think about it – I never had so much fun doing things I mostly want to do anyway.

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Please Welcome My Guest, Jessamine Rose

Today’s post is brought to you courtesy of author Jessamine Rose and her book, Don’t Let The Secret Out.

About Don’t Let the Secret Out

Jessamine Rose offers readers a glimpse into her life. She was born in 1937, in a small town in eastern Kentucky. For many, her upbringing will seem foreign but for some it will sound all too familiar. The family’s cabin was cold, the cracks in the floor made it impossible to heat. The bathroom was an outhouse. Her father often beat her mother. Her father shot her mother to scare her. At one point the family lived under a cliff. In the hills of eastern Kentucky “you could shoot a dog and spend a year in jail, shoot a man and nothing.” She faced sexual abuse, beatings, neglect and yet rose above it all. She was a mere 6 years old the first time she was raped. Her mother gave away her young brother and sister. Jessamine made her escape in the back of an ice truck, she was less than 14. She ended up living in a park in Ohio.

Her teen years were spent suffering at the hands of authority. Her life finally changed for the better when she met the love of her life and life began anew.  Jessamine searched for her family and tried to reconcile her past memories with those who had wronged her. Jessamine faced many hardships in her life, yet her memoir is upbeat, despite her childhood beginnings.

An excerpt from Don’t Let The Secret Out:

Spring came and mommy had Edna Cora

She was named after my Daddy’s sister and also was the sibling I nicknamed Flukey. Daddy decided to join the Army and instead of Mommy getting allotment for us kids, he put it in Aunt Cora’s name. She owned a little country store and was supposed to give us food. Almost everyday we’d walk to her grocery store and she’d be kind enough to give us a load of bread with some applesauce. However, she greedily kept most of the money for herself.

After I grew up I came back to Incline, Ky to face Aunt Cora for keeping most of the money and not giving us food in exchange. As we were driving up the dirt road, I could see Aunt Cora in the garden working. She was all bent over hoeing a row of beans. We parked the car, got out and walked toward her. I was so mad and planned to do more than yell at her; I wanted to hit her. As I got closer to her she stood up and she was all crippled from arthritis. Needless to say I felt so sorry for her, so I couldn’t be mad at her. We talked for about an hour and I left. I was so hurt I couldn’t even cry. I never say Aunt Cora again.

8

Four Fun Things about Writing and Publishing My Novel.

1. I have three cats. BJ is 10 years old and thinks she is the meanest 5 lb ball of fur on the planet.  Yes, she rules the family. I was in the middle of finishing up a chapter I had rewritten several times. Just when I had the end in my mind I heard her coming.  She calls me ma. When she wants me to hold her I have no choice. She jumped up on the keyboard, hit delete – and all was gone. She sat on the keyboard for all of one minute for me to pet her.

2. My editor had most of the book edited and she tried out a new program.  When she went back to work on the book, it was gone. After we both stopped crying, I had to round up the story and send it to her again.

3. After I finished the book I didn’t know how to find a cover. I didn’t know the publisher would do my cover for me. I tried drawing a picture. That didn’t work out. Then I remembered a friend had two granddaughters about the age I needed for the cover. George, my husband, asked them if he could take their pictures for the cover. We have an old fence in the back; he asked them to stand in front of the fence. They posed and the picture was taken; it turned out beautiful. Just what I wanted.

4. George had an appointment at the VA for blood work. I had to wait for him in the waiting room. There were several people there. I had no idea how to get my book out to the public. I looked around the room and announced to every one ‘My name is Jessamine Rose and my book, Don’t Let The Secret Out, be for sale.’ I was taking orders now. The price was $10.00. I needed their name, address and $10.00. I mailed them just as soon as I could. I sold several and one of the ladies bought two.  Shortly after, a Doctor came in and asked if Jessamine Rose was there. The lady told them Jessamine Rose the author was in the building.

http://www.amazon.com/Dont-Let-Secret-Jessamine-Rose/dp/0982930720/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1305952980&sr=1-1

http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/05/23/don%E2%80%99t-let-the-secret-out-virtual-book-tour-june-2011/

101/1001 (11)

I completed two tasks this week.  You read about my foray into second childhood; the second was Write 101 new poems.  I’ve written 111 in eleven weeks.  I think I may have set the bar a little low.  Any suggestions for a realistic target?

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Read thirty books (11/30)

I finally finished Daughters of Britannia: The Lives And Times Of Diplomatic Wives, by Katie Hickman.  It was dry in parts but interesting enough to keep going.  Not gripping, though: it’s taken me six months.  Here’s a bit I thought you might enjoy:

At the turn of the century Susan Townley learnt the conventionally polite Chinese enquiry: ‘How is Your Excellency’s favoured wife?’  To which, unvaryingly, would come the equally conventional reply: ‘Thank you, Madam.  The foolish one of the family is well.’

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Find another 64 challenges for the list.  (24/64)

Nancy suggested: Go an entire week without poking fun at the WP prompter.  I did so, but forgot to add it to the list.  That got me out of the habit so there’s no point including it now.  Talk about a wasted opportunity.

She also suggested: Visit a hospital ward and entertain the ill and infirm.  I’m thinking about that one.  It scares me, frankly.  I don’t know how I would entertain them without sticking a monitor in front of their faces.

Nancy is prolific: Write a letter to someone who taught me something valuable about life and send it to them.  This is a good one; it’s on the list.  So’s this: Illustrate one of my poems with the medium of my choice.

Pseu gave me a task which is similar to one I already have (Submit thirty poems to competitions or publishers), but is a good way to make it happen:  Buy a copy of Myslexia or visit http://www.prizemagic.co.uk/html/writing_comps.htm  and identify 6 poetry competitions, each with a closing date a month after each other, or as close as possible – enter each competition with a new poem over the next six months.

Thank you again, everyone, for your suggestions and encouragement.

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Flo told me about a teenage girl who has her own list.  Please visit her blog: she is fifteen and has terminal cancer.  Hers is a bucket list.  I don’t know what to say.  She is so brave.

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We have a new 101er!  Welcome, heroblues.  Let’s hope you’re not the last to join us.

Don’t forget to check out the other 101ers from the list to the right.

Broken Promise

Image by Myles! via Flickr

Who is the character from a book that has made you feel so close to him/her that you simply can’t stop thinking what’s gonna happen next?

Gonna?  Really?  In what purports to be a serious question?

I’m annoyed: I had taken up Nancy’s challenge not to make fun of the WordPress prompter for a stretch but, really, ‘gonna’?  Now I have to start all over again.

Gonna have to cut&paste an old post for some of my answer because I’m too irritated to write anything new:

Desperate for something to write about, I turned to Plinky Prompts again. It asked me ‘What book would you read over and over again?’

I would have to say, Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card. It started life as a short story that became a novel and then a series of books, the Ender Saga and the Bean Saga (Bean is a minor character in the first book). I prefer the Bean Saga because they are more like Ender’s Game; the Ender Saga is dreadful, apart from the first book.

Ender’s Game is the story of a child trained to save the world; but also the story of a child who has to survive the world. When my boys came up against bullies, I gave it to them to read. I must confess, however, that putting your enemy’s nose through his skull is not a path I hope they take: it is the philosophical angle I hope they will consider.

Above all, it is the story of negotiating childhood. In space.

Here’s a review from I know not who on Amazon:

Whenever I talk about this book, it’s hard not to make it sound like I am a science fiction junkie. I love and defend sci-fi, but I am not limited to the genre. Neither, I think, is this magnificent book. To label it simply a sci-fi classic would be like labeling “Moby Dick” a great book about boats. All great books, regardless of the genre, say something truly profound about the human condition.

Ender is a good child trying to do the right thing, but circumstances forced upon him make him a killer.  He is sweet and vulnerable and ruthless.  I love him. 

It’s such a shame that the rest of his story is dull dull dull.  He deserves better than OSC gave him.

There are constant rumours that there’s going to be a movie of Ender’s Game.  Now that technology has caught up with Card’s imagination, I’m hopeful that eventually the rumours will prove to be true.  This is probably the only instance, however, where I hope that if they do film it, the sequels don’t follow the book’s sequels. 

Ender deserves better.  Ho!