The Future
My dreams have changed a lot in the last few years. Until relatively recently (certainly well into my adult years) my idea of the future involved hopes of finding a dirty but community-oriented slum in which to live somewhere in Indonesia. (Believe it or not, I’ve been to some pretty nice slums. I planned to work as a volunteer teacher in Indonesia, and prepared for it for twelve years before I got mentally ill – then eventually realised I didn’t actually want to go even if I still could.)
So anyway. . . I got married in January this year – to an Australian who’s never visited anywhere overseas (we will be visiting Indonesia and China next year, but just visiting). At about this time last year there were three main things I wanted:
to be married (I really wasn’t sure my partner was serious, but clearly he was – as he told me all along)
to be out of debt (it was impossibly large, and was later cancelled by family friends)
to have a book accepted by a major publisher (hasn’t happened yet)
The reason I mention those things is that I would have put them in the reverse order. Book publication was the most important, because it represented a purpose in life, and an identity (something that’s still sorely lacking after giving up on a twelve-year dream to move to Indonesia). It would also help with getting out of debt – debt is something that has an absolute immoral quality to it in my value system (excluding mortgage and hecs). And yes, I know debt is common. Not for me. Never again. (Mental illness = major debt. I still don’t think I could have done anything better.)
Now that I’ve been married a little while, I know it’s much better than any kind of publication, and will have a greater impact on my life. It’s funny, because being married was never an important part of my self-image – it was always a luxury extra to life (and one that was pretty unlikely for me). But of course I like being a Mrs, and in a few more years my single years will look like a foreign country.
This does all kinds of strange things to my brain (like suddenly wanting matching plates – which, incidentally, I have. A set of twelve). Most importantly, it means I’m safe in all kinds of ways. Marriage isn’t especially hard, but everything else in life is (almost always) easier.
And this marriage thing means I’ll most likely have children. (Side note: I’m at the house of the babysitting kids right now, but was unable to write this entry until the kids were asleep. They’re just too scary when they’re conscious.)
Friends will know that I generally express my desire for children by boasting of how much time my kids will spend with their grandparents. It’s not that I don’t like kids – I’m just freaking terrified of them. I’m scared of their effect on my mental state, of passing on my crazy to them, and so on and so on.
But I keep having these dreams that my partner and I have just bought a house. They always feature a kids’ room. I really like these dreams.
Also, interestingly, the dreams tell me I’m not ready – every single house I’ve dreamed of has been the same size or smaller than the flat we now rent in. It’s clear my subconscious just doesn’t have the guts to dream big enough.
Yet.
But it’s fun all the same – the dreaming.
My nephew
Every dog. . .
So I’m doing a bit of overnight babysitting. It’s been fun playing house, and I get paid. The household has two small dogs, but they haven’t bothered me.
One evening I bought a pack – 150 grams – of unshelled pistachios. (Unshelled so they’d take longer to eat, and distract me from the lack of multiple kilos of chocolate.) I ate about half that night, felt a bit sick from eating so much (and licking the salt off the shells), and eventually stopped shovelling them in. I folded over the top of the pack and placed it on my bedside table (the opening facing down so its own weight held it semi-sealed) to eat during the rest of the week.
The next morning I took the kid to school and left the pistachios beside my bed.
When I returned later that day, the pistachios were gone – as if they’d never existed. Not a crumb remained on the table or floor. The plastic packet had also vanished – so thoroughly that I looked around for it (and found no trace of it anywhere). All that remained of the entire pack was two pistachio shell halves – both licked clean of salt.
Companion to Day Twelve: Blackbeard
I think a large number of historians would agree that among the historical pirates (murderers, thieves, cutthroats, and fiends), the worse is Captain Blackbeard.
One evening during dinner, he took his pistol from its holster and shot a member of his own crew in the knee, permanently laming him. His explanation was that people would forget who he was if he didn’t kill someone every once in a while.
Children: Is there anything more horrifying?
I am still waiting on Harper Collins’ reply to my young adult novel. The longer I wait (the time they said is now about a week ago) the better my chances – because a “Yes” takes longer than a “No”. My chances of getting that book published are significantly better than my chances of becoming a twitter celebrity and getting publication that way.
There’s not much more pathetic than an unpublished writer. (I already hear the voices of my friends raised to say that they’re MUCH more pathetic than me.) All those hours to create a gift no-one actually wants.
*topic change*
Today I mediated in a fight and had both parties (two children) blaming me by the end. Which is technically fine, since I know (a) It was a fight that needed mediation – a rare thing, but true in this case – and I was the only other person around (b) since they blame me for everything, they’re friends again (c) It ended the way it needed to, with the victim’s safety given back to her.
But I feel hideous – together they accused me of mistreating a child. Just the thought makes me feel sick. (Sure, in my teaching days, I sometimes made kids cry – that’s different. Unfortunately it’s a side effect of our school system.)
But I’ve been thinking about teenagers lately, and how one reason teen life is so difficult is that you simply have no scale to measure things by – if you feel sick, you really might be dying. If you’re in love, you’ve genuinely never felt that way before. Later on in life, you can recognise more accurately the severity of your problems. And me getting blamed for a badly upset child isn’t that big a deal. I’m only upset because it’s one of my nightmare scenarios (if it really was my fault, I mean), and I’m not good at sorting out fact from fiction if anyone says anything bad about me. As long as it’s not real (and possibly even then, since everyone makes mistakes and no-one was permanently hurt), there’s no problem.
Children scare me. They’re too important to mess up, and I mess up a lot of things.
Companion to Day Eleven: Secrets
Yep, it’s all on purpose: Oldy (is that even a name?*) is a beggar who gives away food. He’s also someone who knows sailing – but pretended not to know until now.
Gee, I wonder what’ll happen next!
*No. It’s an abbreviation of “Old Man”.
Companion to Day Ten: Hair
Captain Sol likes being outside. I really don’t. I may have mentioned that it’s WINDY on board ship. Plus lots of salt in the air. And sometimes rain. With very limited drinking/showering water.
I’m not generally fussy about my hair, but filthy things happen at sea. Just imagine itching, stinking, permanently tangled hair filled with chunks of solidified salt particles – and you’re pretty much there.
Yucky things happen at sea.
Crash
Hm. I’m still garnering new twitter followers, but I’m forced to conclude that last week’s frenetic teaching failed to have any significant positive impact. Eleven hours of work (roughly double what I usually do in a week), for (probably) not a single extra follower.
Today I linked to various other young adult author’s blogs – and linked them back to twittertales.wordpress.com with reviews. Another long shot.
I think I have one magic weapon left – teaching older kids. I should be able to hit at least three or four schools. If that fails, then. . . well, we’ll see.
A lot of my plans are a slow burn and/or a wide spread – blogs, facebook, critique groups, Youtube (about 100 hits so far, which seems pretty good), community news sites, etc. The theory is that if I knock on enough doors, some will open. The other theory is that this whole thing is like pushing a rock over a mountain – once I get to the top, it suddenly gets VERY easy. But I may never reach the top.
Still working. *shrug* There’s no way of telling how this will end. It all depends on whether people tell their friends about the story, I think.
Companion to Day Nine: Book Reviews
YES it is possible to accidentally make a ship go backwards. I know, because I did it on the Young Endeavour. (Angles of wind and so forth – if you turn so the wind is coming toward you, those big white sail thingys do what they’re supposed to do: catch it, and make you go in the same direction. Oops.)
Today’s special feature is linkages to as many YA authors as I really like, that have comment-capability on their blogs. I’ll post their blog addresses after each name (it’s in alphabetical order). Most of the reviews have already appeared in my other blog, felicitybloomfield.wordpress.com, along with a Richard Harland interview.
CASSANDRA CLARE
http://cassandraclare.livejournal.com/
City of Bones
City of Ashes
City of Glass
ie the Mortal Instruments series
(Also the infamous Lord of the Rings Secret Diaries – mature content – as Cassandra Claire.)
Free sample: Clary shook her head. “Don’t stop there. I suppose there are also, what, vampires and werewolves and zombies?”
“Of course there are,” Jace informed her. “Although you mostly find zombies farther South, where the voudun priests are.”
“What about mummies? Do they only hang around Egypt?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No-one believes in mummies.”
“They don’t?”
“Of course not.”
Review: I read the three books in three days – many people have. They are extremely addictive. Funny, with well-drawn characters and an involving story. Mild cliffhangers at the end of books one and two (a plot line is left dangling in the foreground, but the main characters don’t get stabbed in the final paragraph or anything like that). Clare is a master of vivid description.
The second-biggest plot is an extremely angsty love triangle (which some people will find sickening in one or more aspects). It’s written very very well – and the main character does at least try to do the right thing – but angst is still too big a plot line for my liking. On the other hand, every aspect of the relationship/s has a strong bearing on the main plot, and every character is going to stick with me (unfortunately, a lot of the non-love-triangle characters are left relatively undeveloped except for promising hints). The love plotlines really reminded me of what it was like to be a teenager in love but trying to not be selfish or stupid – they are seriously well-written (sooooo much better than a certain Bella). The main character does sometimes make stupid decisions, and although the plotting has been done very well over the three books some of it is a bit transparent (I guessed or figured out several things before the characters did). Other parts are so clever they made me gasp.
Rating: M (seriously scary violence, including an attempted rape by a demon – brief but creepy), adult themes including homosexuality and incest (no sex happens on-screen at any time). Bad things do happen, including death/s of good people.
Recommended for: age 10 and up, including adults.
EOIN COLFER
Artemis Fowl
Six books in the series so far.
Free sample: Nguyen brought the cup trembling to his lips.
“Don’t be alarmed, Mister Xuan,” smiled Artemis. “The weapons will not be used on you.”
Nguyen didn’t seem reassured.
“No,” continued Artemis. “Butler could kill you a hundred different ways without the use of his armoury. Though I’m sure one would be quite sufficient.”
These are smart, interesting books. One reason is that they’re spy books – but definitely fantasy. (Fairies are real, they live mainly underground, and they have really awesome high-tech equipment – including strap-on wings.) Artemis is an interesting character (12-year old genius), and a sympathetic one – as are all the others. He’s meant to be a criminal mastermind (and he is), but he’s a decent kid, too. High adventure – but without compromising on intelligent writing.
Rating: G
Recommendation: 7 and up
NEIL GAIMAN
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/
Sandman comics (for adults)
Smoke and Mirrors (very much for adults)
Stardust (for anyone, but has sex – also in my top five books of all time – get the illustrated version)
Coraline (for children, but very scary)
The Graveyard Book (for everyone – wonderful stuff)
He write for both children and adults, so be very wary. Some of his stuff is R-rated.
The impression I get is that Gaiman is a lazy genius. Some of his stories strike like lightning, never to be forgotten. Others need editing.
The Graveyard Book has just won the Newberry Award (it’s one with a rep for being given to books that are intelligently, beautifully written – and utterly unreadable by humans). This has been widely hailed as the most enjoyable read to win the award ever. The book deserves every accolade it gets – it IS intelligently and beautifully written, but it’s also a ripping good story.
Rating: G/PG (some characters are dead)
Recommendation: all Earth citizens
ANTHONY HOROWITZ
http://www.anthonyhorowitz.com/
StormHunter
This is the beginning of a long and wildly successful series. (Not actually speculative fiction, sorry – spy genre.) It’s interesting to me that the good guy’s bosses are highly unpleasant and evil people. Horowitz’s style sucks, some plot twists are predictable, and his characters are cardboard cut-outs.
It was terribly fun to read. Terribly, terribly fun. I laughed out loud (with pleasure) at some of the ridiculous scenes. It’s described by the author as “adolescent fantasy” and it’s the best example I’ve read. (I confess I won’t be reading more, despite how enjoyable it was.)
Free sample [Our twelve-year old hero, Alex, is being attacked by two men on quad bikes. He has already managed to dispatch one guy AND steal his quadbike. Now he’s on his way to dispatching the other – who, like the first but unlike Alex, has a gun]: The quads were getting closer and closer, moving faster all the time. The man couldn’t shoot him now, not without losing control. Far below, the waves glittered silver, breaking against the rocks. The edge of the cliff flashed by. The noise of the other quad filled Alex’s ears. The wind rushed into him, hammering at his chest and face. It was like the old-fashioned game of chicken. . .”
Rating: PG (unrealistic violence, including death)
Age recommendation: age 7 to 17
**MARIANNE DE PIERRES (who, incidentally, read one of my novel openings in a competition and stopped me at the con to tell me how fabulous I am)
Nylon Angel etc
Gritty futuristic world, shining with imagination. She has a tough main character (this is the beginning of a series) with a serious and interesting problem. I enjoyed it, and would have read on except this was definitely a world where rape was common, and I just can’t handle that.
Rating: M (violence, rape in past and probably future)
Recommended for: 14 and up, including adults.
PHILIP PULLMAN
Northern Lights (Golden Compass in North America)
Subtle Knife
The Amber Spyglass
Free sample: Lyra stopped beside the master’s chair and flicked the biggest glass gently with a fingernail. The sound rang clearly through the Hall.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” whispered her daemon. “Behave yourself.”
Review: Philip Pullman is a truly fanatic atheist – and a true master of storytelling. This story sprawls a bit in all the lies and schemes going on, but it sprawls because it’s so magnificent and epic. It wasn’t until book three that I realised Pullman didn’t just hate the church but hated God – that’s when his convictions leaked into the story the most clearly (the book was written as an answer to Milton). But I was still impressed by the originality of what he did with the character of God.
Rating: PG (violence, symbolic sex, religious theme)
Recommendation: age 7 and up, definitely including adults
Ruby in the Smoke
Shadow in the North
The Tiger in the Well
The Tin Princess
There’s not a hint of preachiness in this series. Each book is a truly fun, original adventure tale set in 19th-century England. the Tiger in the Well has a particularly interesting plot (it’s improved if you read the books in order, but you don’t have to).
Rating: PG (sex)
Recommendation: 10 and up, definitely including adults.
Companion to Day Eight: Seasickness
About 60% of new sailors get seasick (more women than men). It usually lasts only two or three days, and then you’re fine (unless the weather changes significantly and rapidly – which, at sea, it does). Captain Sol, Ulandin and Oldy are just lucky they don’t get sick.
It’s horrible. If you go below decks, it usually gets worse (plus you’re farther from the railing, which is where your spew is. . . disposed of). But if you’re on deck, all you can see in any direction is the sea. . . the lurching, heaving, tossing sea, which is making you sicker with every swell. It’s a little like realising the seafood is off, but being unable to stop shovelling it in your mouth.
When you throw up, though, it feels fantastic (unless you’ve been doing it a bit, in which case it feels. . . less good). One of my proudest moments at sea was on a rainy day at the beginning of our voyage.
I hadn’t thrown up for about twelve hours, and I was feeling pretty good. The square sails needed to be taken in, so I and my team leader climbed the mast to the very top and began fiddling with ropes. We had to go slow, because we were waiting for another newbie, who was taking her time. I grew sicker and sicker as she hesitated, made conversation, and whined about the cold wind.
The newbie piked completely when it began to rain. She went away. I and the staff guy stayed aloft, clinging on to the slippery sails and tugging on stiff ropes as the wind blew the whole ship from side to side.
I felt very very cold, then very hot, then very very cold. Also wet. The ropes burned my hands. The sails (hard as plywood) burned my hands. The thread on the sails (like wire) scraped my skin.
And I knew I was going to vomit.
With seconds left, I called out, “Watch under!” and let fly. My vomit spread across my sail and the yardarm directly below me – but the wind is so intense at the top of the mast that the rest blew away.
Then I finished tying up the sail, and THEN I climbed down.
PS For several days, all I ate was crackers. I hate crackers, but the dry saltiness was the most wonderful food to me during that time.
Companion to Day Seven: Sleep
You can’t just park a ship. You can anchor it, but you still need at least one or two people keeping watch (apart from anything else, an anchor chain is long and can get twisted if the ship is getting turned around and around for hours. A ship never sleeps. If someone’s always awake on a ship, that means someone’s always asleep.
Captain Sol likes working at night, especially alone, so today Ulandin and Oldy are keeping watch (even though they’re not quickeners and can’t do anything except wake Sol if something happens).
When I sailed on the Young Endeavour, we wore harnesses whenever we climbed the rigging and almost all the time we were on deck. These were like abseiling harnesses, with big metal eyes and tight bindings.
On one occasion, after finishing my shift, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep face down on the deck – while still wearing the harness (one part of which left me with a bruise). I also grew used to sleeping in all my clothes, including my harness, wet weather gear (like a giant stiff tracksuit) and my shoes and socks.
But it wasn’t so bad. After all, worse things happen at sea. . .
Felicity Banks 