Monthly Archives: November 2012

Hangover from Hell

18 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by in Personal

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, ,

Today I have the hangover from hell. I think “really bad hangover” is one of those terms that gets rather overused, so let me be clear. I do not mean that I have a headache and feel a bit tired and sorry for myself. I mean that I have been throwing up all day, barely able to keep water down or move. I laugh when people talk about fry ups, walks and Bloody Marys as cures for hangovers.

Last night there was a party at work. I think I managed not to make a fool out of myself, but suffice to say I slightly overdid the free champagne. And the Jaegarbombs. And the tequila.

There were two signs that suggested today was going to be painful (well, apart from the fact that I was throwing up and struggling to walk in a straight line).

1)I smoked a cigarette. I can’t tell you how drunk I need to be to do that. When I say I don’t usually smoke, I don’t meant I’m one of those social smokers who’ll have one after a few drinks. I mean I have smoked ten cigarettes at most in my life. Every time I was so drunk that the next day was much like today.

2)I went to bed with my make-up on. However tired, stressed, ill or (99% of the time) drunk I am, I am evangelical about using my Liz Earle cleanse and polish. But seemingly not last night.

I get so mad with myself on the rare occasions this happens. I have what I can only describe as a delicate constitution (does anyone know a slightly less Victorian sounding term?!) As a result, I’m usually so health conscious, all vitamins and avoiding problem foods and doing Pilates. And then once in a while I ruin it all by doing shots with the senior management team.

So to cheer myself up and prove that things can always be worse, I present you with the list of my top three worst ever hangovers:

1)My first night in Oxford. There was an event called “Fresher Cocktails.” Older students were filling pint sized plastic glasses with brightly coloured cocktails that seemed to be at least 50% vodka. I was so excited to be there, having the best time ever and then ended up passed out in my room by 10pm. The next day I was desperate to explore and to meet people. Instead, I had to stay in bed, the slightest movement or sip of water making me sick. In the afternoon, we had to attend various introductory lectures. In front of everyone, I had to run out of one of them to be sick again.

There’s a scene in Oxford Blood where Harriet is a bit hungover on her first day and has a meeting with her tutors, which is lightly based on this. If however I’d made her first day as bad as mine was, that scene would have been the most terrifying and upsetting in the book, making any of the scenes were people are brutally murdered by vampires seem fairly sweet in comparison.

2) The night of the school leaving party. I had spent months preparing for this party. I had spent fortunes on my dress, my hair, everything. And then I drank a ton of red wine, kept falling over whilst dancing and proceeded to be sick in the loos of the very swish venue. I had a reputation as the top student in the school and someone who was utterly sensible. The teachers and most of the students looked on in utter amazement.

The next day was particularly painful as I stayed at a friend’s house, slept on the floor and was covered in massive bruises from constantly falling over. I wasn’t actually that ill, but as my first ever proper hangover it deserves special mention.

3)The time a group of Cavalier-esque guys deliberately got me as drunk as possible, not, I hasten to add, with any very sinister motivation, but just because they thought it would be funny. There are few things more infuriating than when you ask someone to get you water and they get you yet another gin and tonic. Eventually, someone from the year below who I hadn’t consciously met before, came over and said, “excuse me, I think you go to my college and I’m taking you back.” For this he earned my everlasting friendship, though it was a bit embarrassing being rescued by a fresher in his first week.

I woke up the next morning in full make-up, pearls and a cocktail dress and spent the next eight hours constantly sick. If there’s one thing I learnt from this it’s don’t get drunk on port. Seriously.

Advertisements

Writers – Don’t forget to read and write

11 Sunday Nov 2012

Posted by in Personal, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , ,

I would imagine that most fiction writers originally got into writing for the same reason – because they loved reading. Devour enough books and the urge to write one yourself becomes almost irresistible, whether you’re inspired by a great book or thinking ‘I can do better than that,’ about a mediocre one.

It was certainly the case for me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been constantly reading. I was one the sort of child who had to be regularly told to stop reading and play outside (see bizarre picture below for just how much tiny me loved books!) I’ve long believed that the longest, dullest train journey would be fine as long as I had a moderately interesting book. When I found a really good one, I could disappear into it for days.

I’ve been writing for nearly as long as I’ve been reading. I wrote endless short stories as a young kid, thoroughly encouraged by my mum, who loves reading and writing as much as I do.* I wrote a surprisingly decent (for a prepubescent anyway) fantasy novella at the age of ten, and a proper paranormal novel at the age of seventeen. I still maintain that the latter would be sellable if I could ever be bothered to edit out the worst of the teenage ‘emo-ness’ and give the characters sensible names.

Image

For the last two months however, books have absolutely dominated my life in a way they never have before. I published Oxford Blood on October 19th. For weeks before, I’d been editing and formatting and working with my cover designer. For weeks afterwards, I’ve been promoting and maintaining a web presence, as well as editing Screaming Spires. And yet last week, something suddenly struck me. I had neither done any proper writing nor read an actual book in months. Something seemed horribly wrong about this scenario.

Therefore, despite the fact that I was desperately trying to edit Screaming Spires in time for a January 2013 release, I decided to take a step back and have a go at NaNoWriMo to get the bulk of The Cavaliers Book Three  written. It might mean Book Two slips a little, but at the moment, I couldn’t care less. It’s going really well so far, and had reminded me how much I love both writing and my series.

Last night however, I stepped back even further. I try to review every book I read, and a quick glance at my Amazon profile shows that between January and September of this year, I read 20 novels. Since then, nothing. I work full time (and I do mean full time – 10 hour days usually) and in the evenings I do a lot of work on my books. Taking time out to actually read seemed like it would make the whole edifice collapse around me, especially once I started NNWM-ing. How could I reach 50 000 words when I was wasting time reading someone else’s?

Then yesterday, as I tend to do, I popped into a charity shop on my way back from Pilates. And because I’m a sucker for a beautiful cover, I bought this – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004LB59QO –  to treat myself to at some point. Then I accidently started reading it. The book was pretty good, though that isn’t the point of this post – if you’re interested in my thoughts on The Iron Witch, check out Goodreads, where I’ll endeavour to write a review within the next few days). I ended up reading half of it last night and the other half this morning, feeling slightly guilty, but too wrapped up in the story to care. But then guess what? Far from failing behind, I wrote 4000 words today. Reading something new reminded me why I love books and thus why I love to write. It revitalised me.

So to any writers out there, especially those stuck in a rut, feeling a bit disillusioned or spending all their time blogging/tweeting/”Goodreading” etc, however busy you are, and however desperate to promote your current releases, make sure you’re actually writing and make sure you’re actually reading. Never forget that the former is the point of it all and the latter is almost certainly your original inspiration.

*One thing all authors whose books contain ahem, saucy scenes, seem to get asked if whether they were embarrassed to let their mum read them. My mum used to churn stuff out for Mills and Boon. I was more worried that she’d offer critical editorial advice than that she’d be offended!

A History of Famous Vampire Books Part One – “Have you ever actually read Dracula?”

08 Thursday Nov 2012

Posted by in vampire books

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , ,

Have you ever actually read Dracula? I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, but the fact that today, Google has a very cool picture which tells me it’s Bram Stoker’s 165th birthday, made me think that it was a good day to get on and do it.

I’m assuming that if you’re reading my blog (which fundamentally hinges on the fact that I write paranormal romance) that to a greater or lesser degree, like me, you’re a fan of vampire novels. And I think we can take it as read that Dracula, whilst not the inventor of the genre*, is the most famous  and influential vampire novel  ever written. Despite these two facts, I bet there’s a good chance you haven’t actually read it. You’ve probably seen a film or two. You’ve probably read spoofs or books that claim to be inspired by it. You probably have an idea in your head of the plot being based around visitors to a spooky eastern European castle with a suave but deadly host.

Back in the days when I sort of had an agent, they asked me if I’d ever read Dracula, and almost to my surprise, I realised I hadn’t. They hugely recommended it, so I decided to take advantage of the fact that Kindle lets you download out of copyright books for free (just one of the many reasons I love them – seriously, if you haven’t already, buy an e-reader) and get myself a copy.

I had to steel myself to read it. I was expecting it to either be painfully dry (I’m not a big fan of Victorian literature on the whole) or else painfully cheesy and clichéd. Guess what? It was genuinely brilliant – scary, romantic and well-written, the sort of book where you’re cheering the good characters on.

There’s a section where Dracula comes each night to feed off a young woman. Each night she gets weaker and weaker and each morning is given a rudimentary blood transfusion by a doctor acquaintance. Each night her friends do their best to protect her with crucifixes and white garlic flowers, each night the vampire somehow outwits them and drinks more deeply from her.  I wasn’t expecting my jaded twenty first century brain to be unnerved by something written more than a century ago, but these scenes, with their horrible sense of desperation and powerlessness, are some of the scariest things I’ve read in years. The diary of the ship’s captain, trapped at sea and horribly aware that one of his crew is being killed each night, is also pretty nerve racking.

Equally, whilst it’s not a paranormal romance in the modern sense of the word (there are certainly no human women having sexy time with this vampire), there are beautifully touching and romantic scenes,  whether it’s one character’s longing to get back to his fiancée when he’s trapped in Dracula’s castle, or most tear-jerking of all, another character deciding that he must be the one to stake his now vampiric fiancée to save her soul. At the same time, the link between sex and blood that tends to be made more explicit (in both senses of the word) in modern vampire novels, is very much there. When Dracula is biting his poor female victims, you definitely get a sense that there is more than mere hunger going through his mind.

A few fun facts:

  • I’m sure it’s not just me that imagines the entirety of the novel to be taking place in a castle in Eastern Europe. In fact, that’s only the first couple of chapters.
  • Dracula is killed with a metal knife, not a stake through the heart.

So this week, whilst it’s cold and dark outside, why not put down whatever modern vampire book you’re reading (apart from Oxford Blood, obviously!!) and indulge yourself with the king of the genre. It’ll be harder work than the latest Charlaine Harris or Laurell K Hamilton, but I promise you it will be worth it.

So, to return to my first question, have you read Dracula? If so, what did you think? Classic vampire novel or outdated?

*Before anyone tries to get clever, I know about Carmilla and Varney the Vampire and all those other nineteenth century vampire novels. Try taking a nineteenth century literature and culture module at Oxford and not having them thrust down your throat. But let’s face it, the may have come first, but Dracula made the genre.

**The cartoon near the top of the page is from: http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=285 Check out that page for more cute Dracula comic strips, and the site more generally for fab historical and literary inspired comics. So we’re totally clear, the picture totally belongs to Kate Beaton of Hark, A Vagrant, not me, but her website says it’s okay to use them as long as they’re properly cited.

Gunpowder, treason, and mulled wine

05 Monday Nov 2012

Posted by in Personal, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Well last week I wrote about Halloween, my favourite day of October. Today, less than a week later, it’s time for my favourite day of November – Bonfire Night.

I always love this week of the year, the way that, if you’re lucky, you get proper autumn days in between the disappointing end of summer and the proper, soul-sapping cold that hits not long afterwards. I love the fact that, in Britain at least, the two events run together, and nearly everyone enthusiastically celebrates two of the most random festivals that the calendar has to offer – a barely disguised pagan festival and a celebration of a thwarted seventeenth century terrorist attack. I love the fact that otherwise sensible people spend one weekend dressing up as devils followed by another weekend standing in the freezing cold watching fireworks, and, if you’re lucky enough to live somewhere really traditional, burning figures in effigy.

There’s something beautifully English about Bonfire Night. Mention fireworks in America, and everyone seems to think of Independence Day – barbeques, long summer days and celebration. In China they seem to be associated with New Year – again, a straightforward celebration. But mention fireworks to anyone in England and they’ll instantly think of 5th November. For all the colour, it’s an oddly dark occasion – let’s not forget that we’re celebrating the thwarting of a plot in which someone very nearly blew up the King and the entirety of parliament, and the fact that he was tortured to death for his pains.

I suppose it’s just cultural conditioning, but to me, it seems like the most fitting time of year for bonfires and fireworks. There’s something magical about a bonfire on a cold night, mulled wine or cider in hand, shivering slightly whilst gasping at the fireworks in the darkened sky. In my mind, it fits nearly with Halloween for reasons beyond mere temporal proximity – the idea of fires as the days get colder and the nights longer seems oddly ancient,  redolent of an attempt to keep evil spirits away.

Anyway, moving from the paranormal and onto the posh,  today I put these rather spooky thoughts aside and went to the most wonderful firework party I think I’ve ever attended. The future in-laws live in a house in central London with access to a garden square, and today, they were having a Guy Fawkes night celebration just for keyholders. In my experience, celebrating bonfire night is usually a choice between a few half-hearted fireworks in our own garden, or standing in a crowd of thousands in a public park, straining to see what was going on.

This was in the garden square, which is wooded, beautiful at the best of times, and tonight, lit with a combination of candles, flaming torches and fairylights. (I’ve been before. It might have mildly influence the clearing where the Cavaliers always hold their Summer Party). There were only about a hundred people, but it had the sort of rockets you usually only get at public events. I’m such a kid about fireworks, and these had my oohing and arhing like you wouldn’t believe. And to top it all off, there was absolutely delicious (and worryingly strong for a Monday) mulled wine and fab gourmet hotdogs, plus lots of adorable tiny rich children running around waving sparklers.