My Stage...

  I always wanted to perform, I can't remember a time when I wasn't forcing my cousins to dress up and put on shows for our parents, where we would put on a play I wrote or pretend to be the Spice Girls and give a concert (And because I was the youngest, I was Baby Spice).

  Sometimes I would even cook dinner for my parents, set up the front room like it was our own restaurant, then pick out fancy clothes for them to wear at dinner while I ate mine in the kitchen. I used to love doing that, designing the menus and setting up the table.

 One year me and my brother made my Mum roses for Mother's day; I'm pretty sure she still has them saved in a box somewhere.

 I even wrote a musical about Hercules when I was about 8 or 9, I read out what I wrote while my brother and Mum took turns to type it up on our typewriter. Then I gave my lyrics to my piano teacher who wrote the score. Then my Dad took me to see my headteacher, it turns out he had asked her to read the script! It never was performed, but the script still waits patiently somewhere in my room (I'm sure if I re-read it, it would seem awful, but I'm proud of it none-the-less).

  When I left Primary School my ambition was to be a actor/singer/writer/dancer. I wanted to do anything and everything creative. I took Drama and Music GCSE, and when we had to write a short story for English Literature it reminded me how much I loved writing. 

 Then I found out I got into the school of my dreams, the performing arts school I had been dreaming of going to since I was 13, and I was going to study theatre, learn the craft of acting from professionals.

  Those two years I spent there, from the ages of 16 – 18, were honestly some of the best of my life. I had my greatest friends from school still in touch with me, and I made lots of new ones, and we had the best experiences we could possibly have. I can't even recall exactly how many times we performed.

 One of my highlights had to be when myself and a friend created our own show and had it performed; we were the writers/directors/producers/set designers/costume makers – everything. We got together a group of our friends and put on an amazing show, using multimedia. We even were allowed to paint the walls in our performance room (which I had to be in at 8am one morning to do).

  I don't regret anything from those two years, going to that school was the best decision I have ever made.

  Then, a few weeks before I got my final results, my Dad sadly passed away.

  And over time, words have become my performance outlet. Now every day I remind myself how good it feels to express my stories and characters through the words on the page, and to see people enjoy what I've written is the greatest buzz of all.

  I would like to go back to acting one day, but for now I'm loving this journey I'm on.

  At the start of this I was completely unprepared for how hard I would have to work. How difficult world building can be, how tough you have to be during revisions, how straining and frustrating querying can be – but do I give up? No. I can't give up, not when I've found something I believe myself to be good at, something I think I really have a chance at.

  That's why I keep going, taking rejection and criticism on the chin and work harder to improve. This year has taught me a lot about writing, and a lot of it has come from the fantastic bloggers I've found. And as much as this years been tough in so many ways, I realise there is so much to be thankful for.

  And on one last note, if anyone wants to check out a favourite blog of mine: Big Book Little Book, they are a great tips and reviewer site who are running competitions in the run up to Christmas.

 Check them out if you can, and I'll be back soon with some special Christmasy posts. 

 For now I hope you're all doing well, and looking forward for this special month that is December. 

My Pal

I wanted to take some time today to talk about this four legged guy I knew. 

  He was medium height, with glossy black fur and dopey dark eyes that could speak a thousand words.

  He liked to pull up part of the flooring and blame me and my two legged pal Rae.

  In his old age he became partial to barking at his own shadow, howling whenever my Mum was out.

  Once during a party he fell in a pond we didn't know existed in a neighbours garden.

  He liked to lounge in the sun, curling himself up small so he could lay in the rays that streamed through our windows.

  When he realised my sister's dogs were coming to stay he hid his toys; to this day we have never found them.

  My young nephew would like to imagine he was a horse, and my pal wouldn't even lift his head when my nephew pulled on his ears to go go go.

  He was known for dressing up as a fairy.

  In his old age everyone thought him meek but my Mum had to chase him comically down a hill, bringing the traffic to a halt behind her. I waited at the top of the hill with our bags.

 Whenever you were sad he would comfort you.

 I'm quite sure he liked other boys.

 Before coming to our home he lived with an aggressive female; I think she put him off other ladies for life.

 He was gentle, he was loving.

 His name was Oscar, my old boy, and on Friday 25^th November 2011 he went to sleep, forever. 

Oscar lookingvar. (His nickname).

  

 He had 17 fabulous years, 119 in dog years.

  Oscar, my sweet pal, thank you. 

I'm not quite sure what we're gonna do without you tap-tapping around here.

  I hope it's sunny enough up there for you.

Proof of his liking for wings.

Tea Anyone...?

        Hi guys, *waves frantically*.

 There's no internet at my house at the moment while we switch providers, so I'm writing this from a computer at Uni. My essay sits on a word document somewhere on the screen, almost finished.

 Anyway, just wanted to pop by to see how everyone is doing? Any news I've missed?

 If you want, pull up a seat and we shall have a cuppa while we're here. Sugar? How milky?

 I'll be back soon (I hope) with something more interesting to talk about, my blog posts have been saving themselves, but for now if anyone feels like it then do pop over to Big Book Little Book's Blog. I was an entrant in their Harry Potter competition, and I spoke about my love for Book 3, The Prisoner of Azkaban.
 They are such a great blog, one of my favourite reviewers here.

 Anyhoo, I hope you all have enjoyed the catch up and tea (one day I shall get a real cup to all of you fabulous people) and have a good weekend.

Till next time, =).

Bah to Bluegh

  It's been one of those weeks, not unusual. I don't have much faith for it to get better before the end of 2011. (Bring on 2012 - as long as it is improved.)

  But I've decided not to be negative in this post, instead I'm going to list five things to be thankful/happy for. (Especially since today honours those wonderful heroes, and this is inspired by the lovely Meredith at Fairy Tales and Cappuccino. who posts 'Five Random Thoughts on a Friday.')

1. Writing. Ok, this might be obvious but I've been thinking a lot about love this week, and writing is my love. Even if I never get anywhere, I know that I will write, it seeps out of me and I can't control it. 
   
   
2. Thank god for reruns of Malcolm in The Middle. When I was younger I never found it funny, but this past year it has brought so much laughter to my house. It's mad, hilarious and scarily truthful. 
   
   
3. Random messages from friends that say things like like; I miss your face; I've been thinking of you – you know what that means – *bursts into song* 'You are always on my mind...' Oh they make me laugh, and feel contented. 
   
   
4. DOWNTON ABBEY CHRISTMAS SPECIAL!!! Do I need to say more? Doctor Who and Downton Abbey on the same day? With good food and games? Sigh. 
   
   
5. Quote of the week: 'She is involved in work her soul must have' – Alice Walker
   (I am getting that engraved on something, anything. Because it warms my heart.)

  I hope you've all had a good week, and you crazy NaNo folks have found it productive.

  Here's to a glorious weekend.

Books Make Life Magical

  Beth Revis, author of the amazing Across the Universe which I ranted about here, is hosting an extraordinary give-away. It's amazing, honestly. She's giving away 19 signed YA books by people who've helped her in all various ways on her journey, plus lots of swag, and there's even runner up prizes. Best-give-away-ever. 

  

 And to enter you have to write a post about the one book you are most grateful for. 

  Argh, what a question? There's so many books I've read in the past 12 months that I'm grateful for, let alone all the books I've read throughout my life.

 But then, after I let that moment of panic settle, I knew there was only one series (ok not one book but I can't pick one) of books that I know have made my life more magical.

  Harry Potter.

  Two words, one name. Whenever anyone hears them they think; lightening bolt; he-who-must-not-be-named; glasses; wands; Hogwarts. (Ok I could go on, but you get the idea. Plus I don't need to tell you what you think of when you hear Harry Potter)

 I first read Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone when I was 10, in my last year of primary school, right before heading off to big school (scary times).

  I was hooked from the word go, and it wasn't just me, but my whole family.

  Every Harry Potter film we've watched together, every time the DVD's (or video back in the day) has been released we've watched it together, analysing it.

  Right before the Deathly Hallows book was published, we spent a whole day discussing the possible outcomes for the plot, making predictions and bets. And then after I'd finished reading (i.e. having my heart torn out and stamped on) I rung my brother, who was crying and said he hadn't made it to the end because he was grieving for the loss of one amazing house elf. (And yes, we also sobbed in the cinema, doing that whole, I'm-not-really-crying-about-something-I-knew-was-coming.)

  Basically, I've grown up with these books, as the characters matured, so did I. They've seen me through so many stages of my life.

 I remember being 15, sitting in my Mum's swinging chair in the garden while I spent 4 hours devouring Harry Potter and the Half-Blood prince. I had to re-read the ending a hundred times, because I was crying so much. (I actually screamed, 'HOW COULD JK DO THIS AFTER THE END OF THE LAST BOOK! DOES SHE HATE HARRY THAT MUCH?!?!?!')

  My Mum had to come outside and ask me to keep it down, 'No spoilers before I've picked it up please.' Although I think my tear stained face ruined that.

  So yes, Harry Potter has become a part of my life, helped me realise the type of person I want to be, reminds me why I want to write and share my stories.

  And the one greatest thing about these books, in the words of JK herself, 'Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.'

Experimenting...By Force

  It feels like ages since I lasted posted. (Well it's been a week, feels like forever) And it seems things are as hectic as ever. My brain seems to be all over the place. I can't seem to get it straight and focused.

 Besides all the stuff that's been going on with my family and friends, (some good, some bad. My friend's baby was christened, it was a short but sweet ceremony. Me and my friends were prepared to be in there hours.) I've been quite hectic at university.

  

 Any who read a previous post, I was meant to start reading Atonement for one of my classes. I'm happy to say I have, and that I'm actually quite into it.

  I love how the characters are so clear and vivid, and although the story may be a little slow and perhaps confusing (the confusion has come from the class discussions), I just love how real his characters are.

  I'm so glad I've finally found a reason to pick this up.

 In other reading I also finished the first two books in the Iron Fey series, they are everything I expected them to be. I'm currently reading My Sister Lives On The Mantelpiece, I have to say at first I was wondering if I would enjoy it, but I'm hooked. It's very honest, and I find that extremely compelling.

  I have started working on my essays, the deadlines are looming! Eek. (And when I mean started...I have made bullet points.) And each week I also have to write a completely original piece of writing for my Prose class. I thought this might be easy, I have ideas and write all the time. 

 Then we were asked to write an essay. The question; Is it ok to eat animals? That was all we were given to work with. Eventually I managed to pull some ideas together, but my it was hard.

  I enjoyed the piece we had to write the week before. A memoir in third person.

 'Musical screams blasted from the state of the art speakers, repelling off the century old walls. Amie winced and stepped backwards from the vast moving lights, which were making nonsense patterns on the wall.

  She wondered what dear Albert and Victoria would say if they could hear this kind of music, not that she really felt it was music at all.'

 That's the start of my piece. It was fun to refer to myself in the third person, I don't know why, it just made me giggle.

  I've also had to start writing a ten page play. I have no idea what I'm doing with what I'm currently working on, although that isn't necessarily a surprise.

Charles: So it's true then? The old man, he's gone.

Beat

Rosa: Yes.

Beat

What are you doing here? I thought you were honeymooning in the Alps, or was it on a safari?

Charles: Hawaii actually, our flight was cancelled.

Rosa: Hawaii? There we are then, shows how much attention I pay when my brother blabbers on. Where is your new found wealth? Sorry, wife.

  That's the start. I'm sticking with this idea at the moment, but I've got a few weeks, so everything could change.

  (Also...all the above required writing is making me sad for my WIP. I have lots of revisions to be working on, and I know they are missing my attention, but me and my laptop have a deal. Work first, WIP later. It's working...sort of.)

  In other news today I met Cassandra Clare. *Excited Face* She is the author of the best selling the Mortal Instruments and the Infernal Devices series. And author extraordinare. Also Sarah Rees Brennan was there! She is extremely funny, I'm looking forward to reading The Demon's Lexicon, and her other books.

  Cassandra did a Q & A, and Sarah was there to ask the questions pulled from the cauldron and make us all laugh.

  I got all my books signed, which made this week infinitely better.

  And I also may have a give-away occurring soon, to do with Cassandra Clare & the signing. Stay tuned.

Lastly, I was passed on this award by the wonder CD Meetens. Her blog (One Little Spark - A Writer's World) is such a great read, and I love this award. So cute. (I will be passing this on, just it's getting late now and I have rambled on for some time. =] )

Hope everyone's been well, I've been trying to keep up on blogs, if I've missed any let me know.

On Being Critiqued

 A wonderful and temporarily heart-wrenching thing happened to me the other day; my work was critiqued. 

 And not by my Mum, who is a sound, encouraging reader who helps me progress, but by a stranger.

 As soon as I sent the first few chapters off my heart did that flutter thing, and I wondered if I would be able to open her reply.

  Lucky for me I did.

 She pointed out my flaws in my writing, which I was either unaware of, or subconsciously ignored.

  At first my heart sort of stopped, and my stomach fell out. All my hard work suddenly seemed wasted. I've been developing this story since the start of 2010, when the snow in my garden inspired me to write the piece of work I'd been longing to.

 (And if anyone sees my first drafts then I think I would die of embarrassment. Oh the shame, what was I thinking? How could that possibly be my best work?)

  

 I, eventually, proceeded to show my Mum the email, who pointed out the positives to me. (There were some brilliant positives – once I began breathing again I smiled with pride, and blushed too.) Then we had a long discussion, where I cried.

  The one thing my Mum said to me that sticks out in my mind is, 'You being critiqued is good for me too, I'm learning to see what I should have seen before. It's fantastic,' she went on to say, 'This advice is great, but as she (my critique partner) says, and so do I, ultimately the story is yours to tell. Tell it how you want to.'

 After that we went out for a while, and I didn't really think much about it. Or at least I tried not to. My thoughts couldn't help but mull over how much work I had to do (it really isn't that much, but my mind seemed to disagree), and how little time there was to do it in (that part still feels true).

 When I arrived back home I took another look at the edits, and set about reworking the first few pages.

Already I feel so much more fulfilled and satisfied with my work. It feels richer and cleaner, and now I am aware of my weaknesses and strengths, I have things in mind to work on.

  Seriously, this stranger will never know how much I owe her. And my Mum. Two amazing women, who's acquaintance with me is at opposite ends of the spectrum, but right now I am valuing them both in high esteem.

  When I started this year I wanted to share my work with others. I am so happy I took the plunge. I feel so much more knowledgeable, it's an indescribable feeling when someone says your story is worth telling. It's just my craft needs some work.

  I know it will take time (sigh) but I need to continue to learn patience if I want my writing to be the best it can be.

  So yes, getting critiqued is hard, but the rewards are splendid.

 Besides, you wouldn't want any old thing out there would you? Not when you are capable of so much more.