Dilemma emma.

I think I need to join a writers group or something. I don't know if my protagonist is likable enough, or at all. I would ask my friends to read over it, give me feedback on her, but they either don't care or are too busy.
By design she is sarcastic and has anger issues, but female protagonist are hard when you are writing for a female audience, there has to be certain attributes that the audience has to identify with. And there is a fine line between likable and dislikeable. The female literary characters that are likable tend not to be bitchy in nature. Hell, she is my character and even I am frustrated with how she lashes out first, thinks things out later. But I love her too because I understand her reasons.
Before it was good, before I was part of a creative writing class. It was brilliant and so supportive. (In fact I doubt I would have finished my first novel if not for the encouragement I received there. I had never finished a story before it and always believed I didn't have it in me to do so.) But I had to leave that when I started college. Now I am at a loss to see an outside perspective on my work.
I think I just have to keep reminding myself - I'm writing this for me. For fun. I'm writing this for me. For fun. Let my character have free reign of the page. Let her voice come through, whether it be shouting or whispering.

New Moon: The Graphic Novel Vol. 1



Now, the story of how I came to be the owner of New Moon: The Graphic Novel Vol. 1 was a little less eventful. I actually purchased that. (Oh Lord! What have I become?)

I will be honest, I purchased this solely for the book cover. I actually adore it. It holds some sort of charm for me, I don’t exactly know why. (Perhaps it was because Jacob was the only character that I found I could tolerate within the whole series – until Aro came prancing along, that is. Actually no, strike that. That’s not the reason.)
I was a lot more disappointed in this that I was in the first book. Perhaps I had expectations for this and had none for the first one? Perhaps it just wasn’t up to the first ones standard?
I’m going with the latter. It was too short. Relied too much on Bella’s narration and not the images (if I wanted Bella’s narration I would read, and be bored by, New Moon again.) I wanted graphics to tell the tale in a visual style, that’s why I purchased it. I also hoped for a bit of Volturi. Instead what we get is the exact same image of them as was in the first book. That’s just plain lazy.

Which, in honesty, is what I would sum this book up as, lazy and a milking of the fanbase.
Fans of Twilight are hard-core. (I should know, I’ve been verbally attacked by a few in my time. Somehow or another they don’t welcome my open criticism of the awfulness of the films, or my extreme dislike of the hypocrisy of the “heroes.”) They deserve better than substandard - all true fans of fandoms do. This could have been EASILY one book. According to amazon Vol. 2 has even less pages than Vol. 1. And no doubt that as soon as both have been released a “collector’s edition” will follow suit, and that will offer a minor incentive that true fans will want to purchase, despite having both already.

And that is why I’m glad my main fandom is Harry Potter. For our visual desires we get the awesome Pottermore. And it’s free. All free. Just like Dobby. :D

Twilight: The Graphic Novel Vol. 1

 

Picture it, it’s a crappy day. The rain fell heavily; the street is like a river due to so many puddles. Your jeans are slipping down your hips because you 1) forgot to wear a belt and 2) the rainwater has seeped up your legs as far as the knee and the added weight doesn’t help.
You missed the bus by a few seconds. In fact you got right to the door just as the busman closed them. You tap light, smiling, hoping he’ll take pity on you and will open the doors and allow you admission in to the dryness. But the shitebag sees you and turns his head, pretending you’re not there and awaits a gap in the traffic in order to pull out.
You’re seething. And feel like banging on the glass, giving him the finger and calling him a terrible name. But you refrain from it all, telling yourself that that wasn’t how you were raised.
You simply await the next bus. First in line.
It comes. Ten minutes late. Everybody crams the line, pushing, shoving you, until you realise that you’re now near the end of the line. Screw being nice! I was here first! ‘They are not skipping me,’ you fume.

Exam Worry

I get my exam results today. Yikes! As the Americans would say.
I know it's been less than a month since my final exam, but it feels much longer. Perhaps that's because I've been trying to block out the memories? I don't do well in exams. Stress. Time restraint. Hand formed into some misshapen type of claw. No, sir, exams and I do not mix.
Blocking it out is bogey for two reasons: a) you become complacent. When you block stuff out you forget the nightmare that it was, so you're lulled into the 'actually, come to think of it, I over reacted at the time. It wasn't that bad,' mind-frame. In reality it was that bad. Tears where stinging your eyes as you frantically turned the pages, checking front and back while your mind screams at you, 'there are only eight questions. And nothing about what you studied. There must be more. THERE MUST BE MORE!!! (Your mind sounding more and more like the girl in the Exorcist as you go.)
Then afterwards you ease yourself into the 'pfft! It was grand' area of thinking because you couldn't possibly continue to remember how bad it exactly was, because you'd never sleep again.
and b) admitting it to everyone. Oh, the embarrassment. The sheer embarrassment when you have to admit to everyone 'yeah, didn't do as good as I hoped.' You get the 'ha! Delighted! Little miss know-it-fecking-all doesn't know it all at all' smug look.

This is now my predicament. I don't want these results back! I did these past few days because I had myself convinced I did fine. The 'I did alright. Didn't do great, but definitely scraped a pass,' denial. My problem is I didn't do fine. At least, not on two of the six. I failed them. Like proper *chokes back tears* 'don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,' chanting to myself on the bus ride home.
I guess I'll just have to prep myself for the results. Some chocolate and a cold can of coke.

Random tandem

Random Item #1
I've decided to Bloom after all. The general consensus from the people I discussed it with was 'sure, you're only sending it in. Not signing anything. No harm in trying so.' I concur. You don't get anywhere in life if you don't try, I guess.

Random Item #2
I shall be seeing Man of Steel in a few hours. Can. Not. Wait.
I will most likely give a quick review in the next day or two.

Random Item #3
What is that above? Like seventy words? I wrote about seventy words, and it took me about ten minutes to do so. My laptop is not only freezing, but it's deleting words randomly. Like it has a mind of its own, a mind that's going crazy. A famous-too-young-and-now-going-crazy kind of crazy.
That's why I decided that I have to get a new one. When college begins again I will need one. One that doesn't take forever, one that doesn't have the blue screen of death every hour, one that I don't get an overwhelming urge to throw out the window.
Well I got one. Woohoo! It's small because I could only afford a cheap one that was on sale, plus I didn't fancy carrying in a big jalopy into college.
It's nice. Not fantastic. But it'll do the trick i.e. help me keep my sanity and rage attacks down.

Random Item #4
I'm trying to figure out how magic will work in my 'world.' 12,000 words in and I'm only now realising I never thought this part out yet. D'oh!
It's gonna be tricky! A lot of Post-its are gonna get used. Hair pulling will occur. Swear words shall be groaned. God, I love creativity! :D

To bloom or not to bloom, that is the question.

Like Martin Luther King, I have a dream. But mine is a lot more selfish than his was. I have spent so much of my life in libraries and bookshops that my little dream is one day seeing my book printed and bound and taking up space on a shelf next to other books.
It was a dream that seemed unattainable before I actually wrote the damn book. But now it's done, I feel I'm on, at most, the first rung of the ladder.
Now comes the hard part, getting someone else to believe in your little tale as much as you do. I've gotten some rejections, and while they ain't been pretty I expected it and am hardening myself to the idea that I am, no doubt, going to get more but I just have to keep trying.
And that's what I was doing, scoping about and seeing who is out there that I have yet to annoy with my "If immortality was a fundamental part of your being, how far would you go to achieve it?" tag line.
That is when I came across this on the writers.ie website.

http://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/bloomsbury-spark/

It sounds great. It sounds awesome. It sounds *insert another positive adjective here*
But, see, that's my life. Most everything that every sounded great and awesome turned out to be disasters. (I get screwed over. A lot. I must have one of those faces. I'm beginning to deal with it.) I am weary of anything and everything that sounds remotely like a dream come true, (and believe me, being published by the publishers than gave us Harry Potter would be a dream come true for me.)
So now I have a conundrum, should I submit my novel? It does fit all the criteria. Or should I keep going the route I am going with submitting to agents and getting knocked back?
But then again, aren't I being very pretentious, worrying if I should submit when the real question is "would they even publish me?"
That's the thing with authors, we are a little self revolving. It comes from living in our own heads so much. That's our real world. Outside that, that's the fantasy.

Change of tag

I said in my opening post that I will probably use this blog to review books and films, and I intend to do so. But by tagging posts 'review' I feel I am being a little misleading. I am well aware that I couldn't review something if my life depended on it.
Therefore I have decided to rename the tag 'review: to use a term loosely' because, lets face it, it is my own brand of reviewing which means it's not going to be brilliant, insightful or even explatives free. They are 'eh' reviews. They are 'don't expect genius' reviews.

The Tree of Seasons

I wanted to like this, I really did. Not just because I was a boy zone fan in my teens, but because its a great concept (the art work is also very pretty) I'm a woodsy girl so the prospect of a story in which the underlying theme is to cherish trees and nature really appealed to me.

I'm aware that I am perhaps not in the correct age bracket for this book, but most reviews I have read said that it was enjoyable for adults just as much as children.

Unfortunately, the writing doesn't live up to the standards of other books that have cross-over appeal. It's very simplistic writing and because of that I found it difficult to read because I found it very boring. 

Things aren't developed. The characters could have been fleshed out more. And the danger never felt all too real, especially for the main mortal protagonists - whenever things got a little bit hard, one of the magical characters just happened to have a spell for the job. Things were just too easily solved.

I'd give it two stars. And one of those is only because I love Stephen 'Key To My Heart' Gately.

They keep telling me to 'get a colour'. I tell them that white is a colour!

We've being enjoying the best weather we've had all year here in green old Ireland. And it's probably going to be the best weather we will have all year too, if past summers are anything to go by.
It doesn't bode all to well with little old vampire me, I hate the sun.
Don't get me wrong, when you wake up in the morning and the sun is shining through the window, rather than rain lashing against it, it does make crawling out from under the covers that little bit easier. A person can begin the day in a hopeful, happy mood. But I do long for the shade.
I don't see the point my entire family seem to have, the 'allow me to burn the hell out of my face and upper body and risk skin cancer just to have a nice tan that will last about a month' point. You shall be a corpse, but a corpse with a nice colour. Where is the logic in that?

Woman in Black (1989)

 

God bless YouTube, from the bottom of my cold dead heart. If it wasn’t for YouTube I wouldn’t be able to re-watch these great old shows. Not now HMV is gone anyway. There was a time when I could stumble across something I hadn’t seen in years and pick it up for four euro, but alas! those days are gone *sniff* (and I now understand Bella’s near catatonic state in New Moon after Edward leaves her. Love of her life he may be, but can he offer her a huge selection of movies for a relatively cheap price? I think not! My grief out-weights hers.)

Centered around Arthur Kidd, a young solicitor sent to the eerie Eel Marsh House to gather together the legal papers from the recently deceased client, Mrs. Drablow.
The sinister presence of the mysterious Woman in Black is soon seen and felt by Arthur.

This 1989 version of The Woman in Black is something I have been looking for on DVD for ages. I was delighted when I found the full movie on YouTube.
Like most things from the 80’s - namely the hairstyles and the fashion - it has potential to scare but when you come from seeing the new Daniel Radcliffe version you are ultimately let down.
I know purists will scoff and dismiss me, but whatever! The 2012 version was MUCH scarier, and held such little golden moments of film-making it made you an instant fan of Joe Wright’s directing abilities.
Of course the book out-does them all. But this adaption is a good one because it is, I can’t say ‘throw-back’ since it was made in the 80’s but it is in the style of old story telling. A manner of less is more. It doesn’t go in for cheap shocks, it simply relies on the eerie atmosphere of Eel Marsh house, of the marshland and it’s ‘frets’ (the sea breezes) to get across its frights.

I wish more shows were like this. I wish more ghost stories were like this. I think Mark Gatiss should bring back the ‘Ghost Story for Christmas’ tradition. If I can’t do it, I think he is the man to ;)

If you want to be a writer, then write

I swear, I don't do anything normal. I just have to go rushing ahead, as always. Knowing it never works out. But yet, I still go and do it. *sigh*

I have this story, you see. It has a girl. A guy. And another girl. It has fairies. A castle. And it has magic.
So has a million billion zillion other people, I don't hear you say. That is true. It's the more intricate plot points and the twist and turns that make the story only like one in a million, rather than one in a million billion quaddillion (yes, I know, I'm making stuff up now. I'm an aspiring writer, that's kinda what we do.)
Anyway, I'm getting off point, I do that...hey look, that dog has a puffy tail...*chases it for an hour*
Anyway, as I was saying. I don't do anything I tell myself I will do.
This story is part of a planned trilogy (how pretentious does that sound!) and instead on, you know, actually writing the first book, I go and write the final scene of the final book.
The final scene of the final book. And I don't even have a title yet for the first one.
I exasperate myself sometimes!

Dust bunnies of death

I think I have a monster in my bedroom. One that vomits dust. There is no other explanation.

I spent the good part of four hours, count them! FOUR HOURS just tidying my room yesterday. Not rearranging furniture. Not redecorating. Just dusting. (And I only have the box-room! That was dusted as it was rearranged a few months ago!)
I think I now have what the miners call 'Black Lung' (I'm not sure if that's a true complaint, I saw it in Zoolander.)
It was more than the usual putting all the books back onto the shelves, or the putting clothes away into actual drawers, and not, you know, in the usual place A.K.A in the corner in a pile.

It was bed-pulling-up, shoulder-injuring, good hard honest work.
I only say because I now think that since I rumbled this monster - we shall call him Ned. Ned the Dust Puker - he is out to get me. If I don't blog in the coming days, it is because he has dragged me to his Dusty Palace at the bottom of the lint pile to be his queen.

The Lady In White

Now that I find myself with some time to kill, I find myself re-watching some old gems that I loved as a kid. But to label the Lady in White as a rewatch would be a lie as I never did get to see the end, or even the middle.
This aired one Christmas Eve when I was small. And despite my loud protests I was sent to bed to await sleep and Santa’s visit. (Granted, the excitement of Santy did outweigh my disappointment over not being able to watch the whole film.) I was sent to bed with a glass of milk and a desire to finish the story of the lady in white in my head.
This is the thing with imagination. Your own is always better!

Beautiful Creatures

Beautiful Creatures sees the budding romance between small-town boy Ethan Wate and the new and mysterious girl, Lena Duchannes.
As the niece of notorious ‘shut-in’ resident, Macon Ravenwood, Lena is instantly branded with the oddball iron by all but Ethan, who simply knows her as the girl of his dreams. Literally.
A ‘caster,’ Lena counts down to her sixteenth birthday when, in accordance to her family tradition, she will be claimed for either the ‘dark’ or the ‘light.’ And the story deals with the strong connection between Ethan and Lena as they both strive for a loophole in the rules that will allow Lena her own choice.

Don’t you just love when the setting of a novel becomes a character in its own right? If you answered ‘yes’ then I agree. Gatlin is described in such detail that you dream about the place! Or I did, at least.
The continuing referencing to ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ fitted perfectly as I couldn’t help but think Gatlin was a lot like ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ in the sense that what you see on the surface of Gatlin is not what lies at its heart. Just as in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ the perspective of a young girl’s (Scout) narration doesn’t really see the true essence of the events around her. She sees it all through innocent eyes.
And we see Gatlin through the naive eyes of Ethan.

Obligatory Welcome Post

It has been little over a week since I finished up my final exam. That is it, first year of college officially over. (Or so I hope, if I did as bad as I think I did I may be repeating one or two exams. Fingers crossed I am just overreacting. I doubt I am, but my fingers, toes and eyes will remain crossed anyway.)

For summer I have decided to start up a blog. I know my others have fallen by the wayside in the past, and I assume the same will happen to this one once September and second year roll around. I hope not. I have good intentions. But that said, I always have good intentions.

I was contemplating whether or not just to resume blogging with my other account, but in the end I decided to start afresh. I became far too negative on it, plus it was a horrible name. (That, I guess, is what happens when you join LiveJournal on a whim and type in the first thing that springs to mind.)
I know I lead the world's most boring life, nothing exciting ever happens, so this blog will be more centered around reviews and stuff. Then if anything interesting does happen, I will blog about that, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. I, like Harry Potter, find summer an absolute drag. I plan to do nothing but read, watch films, and hit my word quota for the day.

My first novel is out there, in the ether, awaiting some kind fairy (or literary agent as they are more commonly referred to) to see the potential I see. Until that miracle happens (IT WILL HAPPEN. I'm a determined bunny when I want to be!) I will dedicate my time to my second novel.
So far it has 10,000 words, but no title. I really need to give it one!