Hunting Ground by Patricia Briggs

So far in the Alpha and Omega series, Hunting Ground is my favourite story. Charles and Anna are both werewolves, but where Charles is an old werewolf, Anna is young, inexperienced and emerging from some serious trauma. The thing is, their wolf natures don't care about their differences. They're mated.

In the first two Alpha and Omega stories, no matter how much Briggs softened the reality, Charles and Anna's coming together had a forced element. They were ruled by their werewolf natures. But in Hunting Ground Charles and Anna are exploring their relationship, Anna is growing in strength and it feels like a romance to me, one backed by a solid, suspenseful story, set within a well-realised urban fantasy universe.

Phoebe Atwood Taylor

Dominating my "to buy" list are the books of Phoebe Atwood Taylor. Whether starring Asey Mayo or Leonidas "Bill Shakespeare" Witherall I enjoy the slightly zany, breathless rush of improbable events and coincidences that lead to the triumphant resolution of a murder mystery. I also enjoy the glimpse of another world--of America recovering from the Great Depression or in the grips of World War II. Either way, these then-contemporary books show the human side of living through these times.

Bridges

I'm reading Mirrors of the Unseen. Journeys in Iran by Jason Elliot. I'll review it when I've finished, but a quotation on page 214 caught my eye this morning. It's from Gharbzadegi by Jalal al-eAhmad.

"Once he gets across the bridge, he doesn't care if it stands or falls. ...everywhere he is only a spectator."

Can you imagine the devastating loneliness of living in such a manner? It is acedia, a sloth of the soul.

Strangely I was thinking of bridges, yesterday. How books are bridges between worlds, built by author, editor and reader.

Bridges are the means of moving from one place to another, whether that is a physical place or a metaphysical space. If we don't care whether they fall, if we don't build and repair them, what is to stop our society atomising and individuals moving with random atom bumping patterns?

[The photo from Wikimedia is of Sushtar Bridge, shared by Ali Afghah. It's beautiful.]

Tablet computers

There's talk about a new Apple computer, possibly to be called iSlate, that will do all sorts of amazing things--open web pages, show TV, enable you to type. In other words, do lots of stuff we already do, but make it easier to combine the activities. I was caught up in the buzz for a brief moment, but then reality intruded. What do I really want my computer to do, and be?

First, I want it light weight, durable, environmentally friendly (no toxins in production, use or recycling), easy on the eyes (the screen, not its fashion design trappings), protected from power surges and I don't want it getting hot as I use it (my old laptop burns my knees after a few minutes of use). Nice if I could solar power the energy, too.

Second, I want it to be fast, easy to use and connect with everything.  I don't want Apple to lock us into content sources as they tried with iTunes.

Third is a question for me. What would I use a tablet computer for? I'd like to be able to read magazines and newspapers on it, but that means it must change pages swiftly and smoothly and have a great read screen. Being able to read ebooks would be useful, maybe split the screen like the open two pages of a book. Obviously I'd want to be able to surf the Net, type up this blog, read other people's, and most importantly, write my novel.

So stepping back from the buzz, I don't really need a tablet computer. For me to buy a tablet computer, Apple (or anyone) would have to create a new "need".

A Bacteriologist Dreams

Clay. Paper. Silicon.
A record of being, passing away.
But I shall write in DNA
and fling it to the stars.

Kangaroo Paws

I promised a photo of kangaroo paws. Here it is, an old one since it's not their season, with a typically Australian background--the asbestos fence. (Although, being new, it's no longer actually asbestos)

Seems like this blog might be the incentive I need to take more photos. I like photos--except when they're of me.

Photos

I've actually managed to crack open the laptop and transfer some of my favourite photos. I have to choose an avatar now. Should it be a sunflower with a busy bee, or a fig tree?

Surviving hard times

Avatar

I always seem to arrive late at technology parties. However, I have now organised myself an avatar to appear wherever I wander on the Net. I used Gravatar. At the moment, the photo is of Toby--the profile ID photo at the top of this blog page. But I really should open the laptop that holds the photos and transfer some across. Maybe I'll use an avatar of fig leaves against a blue sky. I love the patterns.

Gardening

Found a frog
in
kangaroo paws.



[When I get organised, I'll post a photo or three of kangaroo paws in the garden. I love the green and red flowers with their lovely furry surface. Or maybe scanning a sketch would be better? They are great flowers to draw--lovely lines, like irises.]

Same Old War

Reading Terry Pratchett's The Fifth Elephant, yesterday, it struck me that I'm old. I remember when we thought, when we believed, in a different reality.

Pratchett uses his Discworld to show up the thinking and behaviour of our world. In The Fifth Elephant one of his characters muses that in future wars will be fought with brains. The echo of that thinking jolted me, and I checked the copyright date--1999. Ah, yes. The years before Sept 11 2001. The Clinton era when technology was emperor. When optimism, bravado, was fashionable. There was talk swirling that in future wars would be a matter of pitting intelligence against intelligence. No longer blood and guts, but attacking communications infrastruce and taking down an enemy neatly.

Now that thinking seems offensively naive. War is blood. It is death, grief, agony and destruction. It is not neat, not bloodless. It doesn't end. The scars remain.

I remember when we believed war would never touch us.

Charter for Compassion

I haven't studied this site Charter for Compassion or signed up yet, but I'm encouraged that people across the world are talking and thinking about a forgotten word--compassion. Not pity (which sighs and walks by), but a genuine sharing of self with others, compassion.

August Folly by Angela Thirkell

Angela Thirkell wrote a number of county chronicles--1930s/40s English country life from the upper classes perspective. They're a bit snobby, but they're also charming with a thread of sly humour. In many ways, the books repeat each other with themes of youth, unreasonable romances, tangled love affairs, social-political genteel bickering, but that's part of their charm. They are books to retire into, gripping once you've slogged the first few pages and find yourself immersed in a world that probably never existed. A "G" rated world, and one gently poking fun at the author and readers' shared intellectual pretensions. See if you recognise some of the quotations worked in.

Ghost at Work by Carolyn Hart

I started reading the Annie Darling series by Carolyn Hart many years ago. As it went on and on, I admit I lost interest. But Hart is a good writer, so I included the first book in her latest series on my Christmas reading list, and I'm glad I did.

Bailey Ruth is a heavenly inhabitant and a charming narrator. Hart develops a wonderful heaven (I, too, dream of chatting with historical figures in the next life) and a nifty reason for returning to earth and meddling. The pace is swift, the mystery cosy. Hart, as always, plays fair and scatters clues and red herrings as a good mystery writer should. That said, when I buy the next book in the series Merry, Merry Ghost, it will be for the next instalment of Bailey Ruth, and not for the quality of the mystery's conclusion which I found a little forced.

A wonderful cosy mystery.

Progress

Sometimes when I look around our chaotic, dangerous, unjust world I'm inclined to doubt the value of progress. It seems from the Economist's Christmas special that I'm not alone. However, there's an important point lurking in their article, one which throws me back to high school economics classes.

There are only two ways to increase your slice of cake. Either you take some from other people or you increase the size of the whole cake.

If progress is about increasing the size of the cake, I'm all for it. I think the trouble comes because we can't decide on what type of cake we want. Some want fruit cake (an organic lifestyle). Others want chocolate cake (with nuclear travel and commercial spaceflights). Some want a cake bristling with aggressive additives. You get the idea. It's not progress we object to, it's how we define progress that makes us argue.

I'd say progress has to begin with everyone having clean water, food, security, the space to think their own thoughts.

Hobgoblin

Having introduced an hobgoblin into my novel, I'm a bit at a loss for what to do with it. He is part of the protections around the Jekylls' London house and loyal to the family in his own way, but does he advance the story? do I really want (well, I want, do I need) to introduce non-human magic users into the story? I'm fighting the knowledge that this wonderful character doesn't belong. Damn, damn, damn. I could vividly imagine him lurking among the rose bushes. He'll have to lurk a while longer till I have time to write his story.

This Parisian gargoyle was photographed by Florian Siebeck, source Wikimedia.

The Need for Roots by Simone Weil

The price is astonishing on this Amazon link, but there are paperback copies. Maybe there are even electronic ones.

In reading The Need for Roots by Simone Weil (my copy was translated by Arthur Wills) I treated it as a springboard for my own thoughts. Usually, I refrain from marking books--dog ears drive me nuts--but with this book I read with pencil in hand. I had to if I was to capture and elaborate the ideas lost amid Weil's sprawling writing. For example, when Weil writes about the exercise of authority, what springs to my mind is that those who submit to authority help to define it.


Reading "The Need for Roots" becomes a dialogue. And although parts of the book are dated (and fascinating for their window into the 1940s) the truths of the book apply today.

Uprootedness is by far the most dangerous malady to which human societies are exposed, for it is a self-propagating one. For people who are really uprooted there remain only two possible sorts of behaviour: either to fall into a spiritual lethargy resembling death,...or to hurl themselves into some form of activity necessarily designed to uproot, often by the most violent methods, those who are not yet uprooted, or only partly so.

To me, this is the nihilism of terrorists. Violence in place of hope.

I disagree with parts of "The Need for Roots" and other parts are simply tedious, but it is a book worth engaging with. It raises questions you might never otherwise consider, like do we restore someone's honour when we punish them?

Soulless by Gail Carriger

Soulless. The Parasol Protectorate is an exuberant novel. Its setting, Victorian London, is people with werewolves and vampires and includes a nod to the steampunk subgenre. The writing is vivid and humurous, the rules of this alternative universe well-developed, and the heroine engaging. The book's opening scene is one of the best I've read recently. I won't spoil it for you, but here's a snippet from a bit later in the book. The style makes me smile :)

"But, Alexia, really, it simply is not the done thing to hit a vampire, with a parasol or otherwise!"

Miss Tarabotti sighed but secretly agreed with her friend. There weren't many vampires skulking around London society, never had been, but the few hives that were in residence included politicians, landholders, and some very important noblemen among their membership. To indiscriminately whack about with one's parasol among such luminaries was social suicide.

Blocked In (fiction)

"I'm sorry."

The inadequacy of the phrase stilled the swiftly scrawling pencil, but only for a moment. Jodi Reeve pressed the pencil firmly back onto the page. There had to be a note, then people wouldn't worry.

"I had to leave. J."

Discarded, the pencil lay at a 33 degree angle on the white notepad. Jodi closed the front door. She shook the door handle once, listening for the click of the lock. Her key was inside, beside the note, in the dustless hallway.

She caught a neighbourhood bus and rode its meandering path to the town centre. The train south was calling final boarding. She ran.

The doors of the train closed and people turned inward to their mobile phones.

Did they feel hooked to an enormous hospital drip, bleeding time into the network? Did they care? And how much of her soul had Jodi surrendered? Always available.

She stood as the train slowed for its final stop. She had to get off, get out.

There was a coffee shop a block away, open to the park sprawling behind it. She would buy a coffee, unpack her bag, sit in freedom.

The new pencil felt comfortable in her hand. It sketched the blur and swirl of steam from the styrofoam cup, played patterns into the form of leaves. Memory added detail. Rose leaves, thorns. The flowers bloomed, filled the page.

Flick the paper over. A new sheet to capture a passing dog, the old man walking it, the toddler entranced.

"Doggie!"

Draw the toddler's mother, stooped in love.

"Is it friendly?"

And the dog, wriggling all over. Yes.

#

The coffee was cold, the pencil blunt. She couldn't borrow these people's lives. The old man had smiled at her, proud of his dog. She hadn't smiled back.

She was sixty four, her husband's full-time carer. People said she was devoted, capable, kind. Her children stayed away, burnt by the demands of their father's condition. She was alone, and never alone. A day of hospital tests had given her this chance to run.

She hadn't run far enough

#

"It's a good thing you gave me your spare key." Jodi's neighbour was chatty. "What's this, the fourth time this year? Still, you've a lot on your mind, caring for your husband. Here we are, dear."

The front door opened.

"Thank you." Three steps, and Jodi crumpled the note. Her smile forced back the tears. Even her running was a sham. "I've just time to drive to the hospital and collect George."

Cootchy-coo

A distressingly ugly baby,
but one can't say so.
Good manners. Kind heart. Pity.
"She looks just like you."

The Price of Freedom

"The Price of Freedom" is a romance fantasy novella I've just this minute sent to Carina Press. So I'm having a little brag at how brave I am to submit it. Not that Angela James, the Editor there, is ever nasty. Still, it's scary to have your words out there, risking rejection. And I have some doubts about the way I've structured the story.

As a story, I believe the structure works, but it goes against the general conventions of the romance genre. Instead of beginning with either the heroine or hero, I begin with the character around whom their conflict will spin. In effect, I tell two stories and it all comes together at the end. I believe it works, and I've opened the door for the heroine's archivist angelic cousin to have her own story, but will a romance reader be willing to wait a page or two before meeting the heroine?

Here's the blurb:  Death and intrigue are part of desert life. Courage is honoured. Mischa is a Guardian, her duty to protect the peace makers. Rafe is a Djinn, bound to the wishes of human masters. Duty will bring them together--and tear them apart. Neither dreams of love, but without it, they'll never be free.

If you like Robin McKinley...

Beauty haunted me when I read it years ago. It remains a favourite retelling of an old fairytale. The following authors vary a bit in style, but they all write fantasy and, I think, what draws me to them is a kindness in their work.

Patricia Wrede


Elizabeth Scarborough

Mercedes Lackey

Tanya Huff

Anne McCaffrey

Diana Wynne Jones

James H Schmitz

Patricia Briggs

Barbara Hambly

If you like Agatha Christie...

A mix of Golden Age and contemporary mystery writers in no particular order, except for Margery Allingham. She's first because you have to read her. My introduction to her writing was Tiger in the Smoke.

Margery Allingham

Ngaio Marsh

Dorothy Sayers

Georgette Heyer

Edmund Crispin

Cyril Hare

Gladys Mitchell

Josephine Tey

Marion Babson

Carolyn Hart

J S Borthwick

Margaret Maron

The Year 1000

Remember the Millenium and the threat of Y2K crashing computers and the world? Seems a long time ago. At the time, Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger wrote a social history of England in the year 1000, the first Millenium.

It is the world of the Anglo Saxons, with the book structured around the Julius Work calendar, but ranging widely. Slaves, Vikings and war. Feasts, famine and hunting. Money, trade and divorce. Religious life and medical knowledge. Did you know Wales was a source of slaves and that the stench of smouldering goat hair will relieve lower back pain?

Lacey and Danziger write an accessible book. Some of their comparisons bring home the everyday ordinariness of Anglo Saxon life. So, people's familiarity with lives of the saints is compared to present day familiarity with the lives of soap opera stars.

This is a history book to enjoy. As the authors say, quoting Bede: May you read happily.

Jewels. A Secret History

Victoria Finlay's Jewels. A Secret History is brilliant. Well-written and extensively researched, it draws you into the world of jewels. A world where amber burns with a lovely scent, where "[Colombia's] emerald barons are as powerful as the cocaine kings", and Britain's freshwater pearling was destroyed by "pearlers, power stations, and pollution". Did you know Iran's collateral for its monetary system includes a collection of jewels or that the list of birthstones for each month was drawn up by the American National Association of Jewelers in 1912?


A wonderful book.

If you like Elizabeth Peters...

Barbara Michaels/Elizabeth Peters writes witty, suspenseful, romantic mysteries. Some are definitely modern Gothic. Others, like the Amelia Peabody series, are historical. If you like her novels, you might try:

Charlotte McLeod/Ailsa Craig
Laurie King (the Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes series that starts with The Beekeeper's Apprentice)
Mary Stewart Her books are classics in the genre of romantic suspense
Joan Smith (as well as her famous regencies, she wrote a handful of breezy, contemporary romantic suspense)
Carla Neggers (although she and other Mira authors are darker edged than Elizabeth Peters). In this darker vein, you could also try Kay Hooper, Tami Hoag, Meg O'Brien, etc.
Janet Neel's Ticket to Ride isn't quite romantic suspense. It's a thriller, a political gothic where the competent heroine is nonetheless vulnerable.

In a corner

Too nervous to smile
too lonely to stay away
anonymous dreamer
coffee shop star.

Blatant advertising versus convenience

Can you live with the advertising for the benefit of a quick link to a book description and other people's reviews? I hope so.

Pretty pictures, one click?

I promise I'll review Soulless by Gail Carriger soon--I've already read it twice and intend to reread. It's great fun--however at the moment I'm testing whether this link/image gadget from Amazon works. It'll be much easier than saving book covers to my computer. And Soulless is a stand out cover. Changeless is pretty cool too.

Smells

Having just washed the dog for Christmas, my hands smell of wet dog and dog shampoo despite the efforts of human soap and moisturiser. Which brings me neatly to the impact of scent on writing, or more correctly, how using all senses including that of smell, increases the reader's immersion in a scene.

When I write of gardens, the plants I highlight have a scent. Foods have aroma. Houses smell of their inhabitants' lives. Scent gives us an added dimension in rich world building. It's very nearly a cliche. Fear is sour, romantic heroes smell male (expensive cologne, not stinky sneakers), baby powder is tenderness. Scent cues the emotional atmosphere of a scene.

The photo is by Javier Carro, "The Bird of Self Knowledge" from Tiroler Volkskunstmuseum.

Live and Breathe Another World

It was really hot, here, on Saturday, and that started me thinking of other places I could be. Some authors have a gift for transporting the reader. This isn't a comprehensive list of those with this talent (remember my brain was frying as I scribbled it), but it's a beginning:

Dana Stabenow, mystery series--Alaska
Gerald Durrell, My Family and Other Animals, and its sequels--Corfu
Margaret Maron, Deborah Knott mystery series--North Carolina
D M Greenwood, Theodora Braithwaite mystery series--Anglican Church
Terry Pratchett--Discworld
P G Wodehouse--An English country house weekend
Winifred Fortescue--English community in 1930s/40s Provence

3D Printing

My big problem with writing science fiction is that I have trouble believing what already exists, let alone imagining the world beyond today. Take 3D printing as an example. In a few years, before committing to building a new home, you'll be able to print out a 3D model of it at your desktop. Or design a figurine on your computer and have it printed out. If we get to the point of scanning bodies--maybe not at home, but at a photographer's studio--then we'll have a 3D rather than 2D (photo) record of our families and ourselves, not to mention our pets, at different ages. It's not just movies going 3D.

An Aphid's Toast

A greenhouse is my favourite place,
so toasty, roasty warm.
My thanks, indeed, to the human race
from me and all my swarm.


An old poem of mine, but unfortunately apt to the Copenhagen regrets.

Bushland in a Traffic Island

Colours of green, wearing the world.
The scent of rainbows. Last year's fire.
Cinder mayflies. Discarded glass.
And honey pathways stamped by ants.
A twist of wind. A shake of sun.
The surge of sap to run in veins
of living green. Unconstructed.

Shapeshifting

Fantastic wolf. The photo's by Bernard Landgraf, from Wikimedia. It captures the wolf's alert intelligence. I can understand why shapeshifting has existed as a notion throughout human history. Shamans have long claimed the ability to assume animal shapes. Other stories mention curses or monstrous births. But this new upsurge in interest in shapeshifting stories, even having heroes that blend animal and human aspects makes me wonder if it's part of our tangled relationship with the natural world. Nature fascinates and frustrates us as we try to control it and at other times stand in awe within it. And of course, shapeshifting allows a character to be more than human.

It's interesting how shapeshifters have moved from evil monsters to heroes. It seems they now come in all sizes, species and motivations. But what do you have to consider when creating a shapeshifting character?

I think that like all magic, the shapeshifting has to have limits and inherent conflict. It can't solve more problems than it creates. In fact, probably the most effective shapeshifter characters reveal aspects of the human condition. We see ourselves clearly when we see ourselves differently.

But shapeshifting can be a numinous element in a story. It is an encounter with otherness.

Writers online

Via a link on Dear Author, I just read Jason Pinter's question on whether an author having an online presence really helps to sell their books. It's a good question. The epublishing houses want their authors to have a marketing strategy, and this naturally means an online presence. So some people think it works.

There are tons of books out there. The big issue for readers is finding ones they enjoy. Sometimes we go with a publishing house. I know I buy particular Harlequin lines and lately have picked up a number of Ace urban fantasy. But really I rely on my experience with previous books by an author, and where a back history is not available, recommendations/reviews by authors I like will tempt me to try a new author. So I buy by author.

The question Jason Pinter raised was whether in buying by author, I'm influenced by how they present themselves online. Unfortunately for all the lovely author websites out there, the answer is no. I buy because I loved their previous books. Their websites make me aware of when a new book's coming out--but Amazon could fill the same function. I do feel guilty when I don't buy a book from a lovely author, but guilt doesn't add to their royalties.

Restoree by Anne McCaffrey

Restoree is undoubtedly SF romance. Anne McCaffrey builds a strong other-planetry world and civilisation, and a gruesome enemy. A body snatching species, no less. Although I had a few moments of doubt with how readily Sara adapts to her new body and the new planet with its political intrigue, the story romps along at a fine pace. And Harlan is a solid hero.

It's a strange book to read. I place it somewhere between her excellent WWII romance, The Mark of Merlin, and her Pern series. It's as if it stumbles between the two, trying to marry the conventions of romance to SF. It's not a great book, but it's good, and if you like McCaffrey's style, you'll want to read Restoree.

Biochar--Carbon Sequestration

I first heard of biochar as terra preta, the black fertile earth found in parts of the Amazon. I was fascinated that charcoal could make such a difference to soil productivity. The question then is can we translate this knowledge to a practical methodology for Australia, converting farm and household organic waste into field improving biochar?

Writing badly

Writing for a few years doesn't make me a writing expert, but it has given me a little distance and perspective on my own work. Now, I can see some of the flaws in my style. In fiction, I overuse the characters' names. The reader doesn't have to be hit over the head with whose talking, now. You can use subtle cues, differences in their speech patterns, the occasional "he or she". Overuse of character names can sound like nagging, and gives an unpolished feel.

And I've developed a new and annoying habit of describing in negatives. So instead of saying "he was hot", I say "he wasn't cold". Bah. My new motto has to be, if I see a negative, weed it out. The problem is, just occasionally, a negative is either necessary or provides a useful emphasis.

The final problem (that I'm willing to admit to today, there are more) has followed me throughout my writing--adverbs. I know a strong verb is better than endless adverbs, but adverbs seduce me. Why say "she snapped", when I could say, "she said, angrily"? Clearly, snapped is the stronger phrase, but I'm addicted.

I'll whisper a final, lifelong fault--"that" peppers all my writing. Fortunately, Ctrl F is my friend, here.

Dinosaurs Wore Coloured Feathers

Earth's sole sentient stands
on cliff tops, looking to the stars.
Below, unheeded, the thoughtless range
through cooling oceans, jungle lands
and unrolling, unmapped plains.
"Tonight, we try."
Feathers preened, muscles trained.
Reptilian brains abuzz.
The launch is power, synchronised lift,
and all but one fall back.
He is their defiance of limits,
wearing moonlight and aimed for its heart.
They will conquer new worlds,
live forever.

Earth's sole sentient stands
on city towers, looking to the stars.

Out of the Shadows by Kay Hooper

Kay Hooper teased for ages about Bishop's backstory. In Out of the Shadows, we finally meet his Miranda (is her name a play on the Miranda warning?), and she's a character strong enough to hold her own against Bishop. I don't want to give away any of the plot twists, so I can't really talk about the events. Let's just say there is a serial killer; that Bishop means trouble in Miranda's past and in her future; that Miranda's sister, Bonnie, is a fine additional character and her inclusion ups the tension. Even better, you don't have to read the preceding Bishop books to understand this one. Just know that Bishop heads a psychic FBI team. Enjoy.

PS. I was going to add a cover image, but it doesn't look so great on screen. Rather like the anthology On the Prowl where in the computer image you can't see the paper copy's glitter pawprints--which I love.

The Cloud of Unknowing

Can you review a spiritual classic? I'm certainly not going to try.

I'm currently reading A C Spearing's translation of The Cloud of Unknowing, about a chapter or two at a time. It makes some interesting claims--like why we have two nostrils instead of one--but reminds us we're not to read it to amuse our minds and inflate our pride of knowledge. It is not quite a guide, maybe you could call it a desire, for its readers to launch beyond their senses and knowledge into the nothingness (the beyond comprehension) which is our attempt to reach to God. Words are so clumsy.

The point of me typing about this now, when I clearly can't explain the book, is that it struck me last night that the book's concept of the cloud of unknowing could be influencing my description of portals and the Between in my novel. It gave me a jolt. But when I thought about it, they're not at all alike.

The idea of the Between has grown out of an idea of four dimensional space travel that I've been playing with for a couple of years. It's about spirals and space collapsing in interesting ways. Initially I wondered if a quantum computer would one day be able to access this four dimensional space. Then you could attach the computer to some movable object and voila, 4D travel, and not just on this planet.

Besides, in my Between (unlike the cloud of unknowing) Lyn can use her senses. It's just that they act a bit like she has synaesthesia. Confusing but with an underlying logic.

So I can stop worrying that I've somehow hijacked my imagination by reading the Cloud of Unknowing while writing about portals and the Between.

Foolish Fancy by Dawn Lindsey

In Foolish Fancy Dawn Lindsey weaves a wonderful regency tale of two people whose social status, needs and desires seem worlds apart, yet actually match. Fancy is a school ma'am and the niece of a celebrated feminist scholar. She is struggling with a dismal future of poverty and an arid, loveless life. Trey, is a former soldier and the new Earl of Wychfield, overwhelmed with responsibility for his younger siblings. When he proposes a marriage of convenience between them, Fancy understands he needs someone to look after his sisters. But Trey is marrying for love. Foolish Fancy just needs to believe.
The majority of the book deals with the couple's emerging relationship prior to marriage. It is well plotted, well written and all of the characters are characters, and not cardboard cut outs.

Old favourites--category romances

Manuka Fire by Mary Moore makes me cry every time I read it. Not bad for an old Mills and Boon. Megan is sensitively drawn, strong but vulnerable. Her family has left her insecure, and the explanation of the reasons are why I cry on each read. Megan's new home in a remote New Zealand farming community is beautifully brought to life, both the people and the landscape. Moreover, this is one of the rare romances where the heroine's rescuer is not the hero. For that alone, you should read it.

The Seduction of Fiona Tallchief completes the stories of the original Tallchief family. Fiona is the baby, the fiery activist, the elephant kidnapper. Joel Palladin is the son of the man who killed her parents. Their courtship is handled with Cait London's typical, offbeat charm. It is a story of love, courage and redemption.

Sarah Morgan writes excellent medical romances. The Doctor's Engagement is one of the best. Holly and Mark have been friends forever, but then Mark needs a favour. He needs a fake fiancee. For Holly, it's a chance to put some nightmares behind her when she agrees and moves to Cornwall. From friends to lovers is an old romantic ploy, but it works beautifully here.

Women blog

Hardly startling news that women blog, but are we better bloggers than men? Spike, Meanjin's blog, is well worth a look.

W S Gilbert

Gilbert and Sullivan operettas are enormously fun and fresh despite their age. So are W S Gilbert's poems--and they're free online. Try Bab Ballads. "The Yarn of the Nancy Bell" is fantastic. But my favourite is "The Nightmare" from Iolanthe.

When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is
taboo'd by anxiety,
I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in
without impropriety;
For your brain is on fire - the bedclothes conspire of usual
slumber to plunder you:
First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes, and your sheet
slips demurely from under you;
Then the blanketing tickles - you feel like mixed pickles, so
terribly sharp is the pricking,
And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble and toss till
there's nothing 'twixt you and the ticking.
Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you pick
'em all up in a tangle;
Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its
usual angle!
Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot eyeballs
and head ever aching,
But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you'd very
much better be waking;
For you dream you are crossing the Channel, and tossing about in a
steamer from Harwich,
Which is something between a large bathing-machine and a very small
second-class carriage;
And you're giving a treat (penny ice and cold meat) to a party of
friends and relations -
They're a ravenous horde - and they all came on board at Sloane
Square and South Kensington Stations.
And bound on that journey you find your attorney (who started that
morning from Devon);
He's a bit undersized, and you don't feel surprised when he tells
you he's only eleven.
Well, you're driving like mad with this singular lad (by the bye
the ship's now a four-wheeler),
And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad names when you
tell him that "ties pay the dealer";
But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find
you're as cold as an icicle,
In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks),
crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle:
And he and the crew are on bicycles too - which they've somehow or
other invested in -
And he's telling the tars all the particuLARS of a company he's
interested in -
It's a scheme of devices, to get at low prices, all goods from
cough mixtures to cables
(Which tickled the sailors) by treating retailers, as though they
were all vegeTAbles -
You get a good spadesman to plant a small tradesman (first take off
his boots with a boot-tree),
And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot, and
they'll blossom and bud like a fruit-tree -
From the greengrocer tree you get grapes and green pea,
cauliflower, pineapple, and cranberries,
While the pastry-cook plant cherry-brandy will grant - apple puffs,
and three-corners, and banberries -
The shares are a penny, and ever so many are taken by ROTHSCHILD
and BARING,
And just as a few are allotted to you, you awake with a shudder
despairing -
You're a regular wreck, with a crick in your neck, and no wonder
you snore, for your head's on the floor, and you've needles and
pins from your soles to your shins, and your flesh is a-creep, for
your left leg's asleep, and you've cramp in your toes, and a fly on
your nose, and some fluff in your lung, and a feverish tongue, and
a thirst that's intense, and a general sense that you haven't been
sleeping in clover;
But the darkness has passed, and it's daylight at last, and the
night has been long - ditto, ditto my song - and thank goodness
they're both of them over!

(Copied from Poem Hunter because I was too lazy to type it in.)

Images

I've been looking around, trying to decide on a regular soure of images for those times when I want to add a bit of colour or illustrate a point with a picture (being worth a thousand words). I've settled on Wikimedia Commons. So, unless the image in a post is a book cover or a photo I've taken myself, it will have come from Wiki with my heartfelt thanks to the people who've built a great collection.

And the picture you're looking at? They're numbats by Gould.

A new tag?

I've noticed I'm sliding into the habit of posting personal opinion. Do I need a new category for posts, one titled "Rant"? or just some self-control?

Dandelion Love

Tiny breaths of love
drift and dream and cling,
send roots deep,
open tender bitter leaves,
flower bright and brave
and sigh away,
tiny breaths of love.

Whose food? Not Monsanto's

Lots of people believe genetically modified food is a necessary technological development if everyone is to be fed now and into the future. But even such believers should be wary of how Monsanto is sabotaging the business of seed development and production. Competition, economists tell us, is good in itself and spurs innovation. Monsanto believes competition is bad, all seed production profits are theirs by bully boy right.

Some might argue that Monsanto is only doing right by its major stakeholders-shareholders and employees. Huh. Of course, I am biased. Monsanto is the company that made Agent Orange, which then devastated Vietnam. My dad's a Vietnam Vet. He has the Agent Orange scars to prove it.

And I also prefer my food unmodified, particularly when the modification is to enable the farmer to drench the field in pesticide without killing the crop. The pesticide in question, Round-up, is a major earner for Monsanto.

What can we do about it? At a minimum, if you grow your own vegetables, consider joining a group like Seed Savers Exchange. Purchase seeds that when you grow them will in turn produce their own seeds, not sterile hybrids.

Maybe the most important thing is to stop and think what's important to you. Me, I don't think food should be copyright.

Edit. I forgot to say what prompted this rant. Boing Boing mentioned Monsanto and provided the link to the original AP story published in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, which is what I've linked Monsanto to in this post. A couple of weeks ago, The Economist also wrote up Monsanto (I'd link, but it's a subscriber only story).

Life and Society in the Hittite World

I bought Life and Society in the Hittite World by Trevor Bryce after watching a television documentary which mentioned this mysterious, powerful and vanished people with their ruined city Hattusa (now a world heritage site, such are the ironies of time) in Anatolia.

If you prefer social history to military or even economic, then you'll like this book. It opens the window into how the Hittites lived, their laws, social hierarchy and daily life. It is accessible, but not simplistic.

My reason for buying the book, in addition to natural curiosity, was to see the organising principles for a vanished civilisation. When you write fantasy, you have to create a coherent, alternative world. This social history of the Hittites tackles a similar challenge, and succeeds. A world alien, yet similar to ours, is opened to the reader. We see the Hittites interact with other, better known civilisations like the Egyptians, and how the Hittites' ideas and military expansion affected the Near Middle East.

Murder Sunny Side Up

This is the book that proves to me that while I'm an insane read-aholic, there are some things even I can't do--and one of them is pay $135 for a secondhand mystery novel. Even though I really, really like R B Dominic/Emma Lathen as an author. Unless her books come out as ebooks one day, I think this will be "the one that got away". Spending $135 would take all my joy away from reading it.

Does everyone have an upper limit to their book spending?

Characters and Urban Fantasy

How many characters can an urban fantasy novel sustain before readers' brains shut down and they throw the book across the room (particularly dangerous when it's in ebook format and they crash their new Christmas gift ereader)?

In these early chapters of the novel I seem to be constantly introducing new characters. Their introduction advances the plot and reveals more about existing characters and the way this world of magic works, but should I try to write their role into an existing character?

Probably best if I consider that question at the second draft stage. When I re-read the first draft, then I'll see if I've scripted a Cecil de Mille epic--with hundreds of extras--or if the subplots sustain the characters and they're clearly differentiated.

Still, how many characters are there in a typical urban fantasy?

I hate answers where "it all depends..."

Tissue Paper Principles

When the banks wobbled in the financial crisis, it was unedifying to watch the way governments, regulators, commentators, sometimes it seemed everyone, dropped principles of financial ethics and justified it with--well, if the banks collapsed, it would be worse. It probably would have been. It's just that while tissue paper principles collapsed and blocked drainpipes around the world, bankers and other industry cowboys emerged drip dry and shiny to continue clawing up obscene amounts of personal income. And now here's an article from Boing Boing that suggests dirty money played a role in the banks' bailout and is even now swimming through the world financial system, as shiny new as the bankers.

If we really have a War on Drugs, isn't this like accepting guns from al-Quaeda when ours get rusty?

"The Presentation" by James Torrens

"The Presentation" is a poem in America Magazine. I've just read it, and the shock hiding in its simple words and familiar story prompted this post.

We're old, but God is young.

We are tired, cynical, uncertain. But God isn't.

We are about to celebrate Christmas, proof that "we're not despaired of."

Fair Trade

As a shopper, convenience and price often trumps ethical issues. But I do try. My coffee is Fair Trade, and I often buy organic foods, not just because of protecting my health but because non-organic commercial farming practices often have a significant, negative impact on producers and those living nearby. If I care about these people why am I eating food that compromises their health?

Steampunk Romance Open Call Samhain

If you write romance you might want to check out Samhain's call for Steampunk novellas. Can you imagine some of the fun to be found in crossing the two genres? Bustles that act as rockets, launching the heroine to the Victorian rooftops. A hero who rides a steam powered bike--there has to be some wicked innuendo in all those pistons! As well as the upper class playing with their alternative toys, this is the world of Oliver Twist. Pickpockets on rollerblades and mechanical snakes that dip into pockets that are lined with automatic razor teeth. Lots of fun.

Romance Divas forum is a great place to get more information, ask questions and surround yourself with other authors. The Samhain editors frequently drop by.

Bride of the Rat God

Bride of the Rat God by Barbara Hambly is a fabulous fantasy. It evokes early Hollywood with a sureness of touch that pulls you in and the characters live and breathe and make you care. The "Moon of Rats", an ancient Chinese necklace, begins all the problems--like a demon intent on claiming human sacrifice--but the novel is more than a fantastical adventure. Early Hollywood emerged after the First World War, and the heroine, Norah, is still dealing with its tragedy.

The story simply charms me, and I highly recommend it. And if you're a writer or creative artist you'll understand the following observation taken from the novel:

"Filming motion pictures, she had learned in her first week as Christine's dog minder and lady-in-waiting, was rather like writing a book: it took a great deal of time to produce something that was all over in an hour and a half."

But the hour and a half gloriously proves the worth of Hambly's effort.

Magic Mourns by Ilona Andrews

I recently picked up a copy of the anthology Must Love Hellhounds. It's a good collection, but I bought it for "Magic Mourns" and that's the story I read first and like best.

Although set in the Kate Daniels' universe, it is told by Andrea. This lets us see Kate through someone else's eyes, but Kate is on the periphery here. The focus is Andrea, her past and her future, particularly her relationship with Raphael. She is vulnerable and she is a survivor--much like Kate--and with a very similar voice, only we're allowed to see more of her vulnerability and backstory than we are with Kate.

The novella does a good job of deepening our sense of Kate's world without actually imparting secrets you need to read to understand the next Kate novel, Magic Bleeds, coming in May 2010. But if you're addicted to this dark world of magic and tech, where compassion has a price, you'll want to read "Magic Mourns".

One final point occurred to me as I thought about this review. The Kate universe is violent. If I saw this stuff in a movie I'd be closing my eyes and whimpering, but I read it eagerly. Maybe my imagination is not as vivid as I think it is?

Taos wildflowers

One of my characters in the novel lives in a house surrounded by a wildflower garden. This site made picking the flowers for the garden easy. Lovely flowers, and to me, exotic. Over here in Perth, my wildflowers are things like kangaroo paws, eggs and bacon orchids and sundews.

Pictures on the web are a fantastic resource when trying to visualise foreign settings. Real estate sites are useful for getting a sense of the suburbs in a city. Travel guides usually skip lightly over such details :)

Interior Design

One of the fun parts of writing fiction is the inexpensiveness of its interior design. I fit out rooms, houses, whole landscapes with no more expense than imagination, pen and ink.

Of course, the design should reveal an aspect of the character, world or atmosphere of a given scene, but it still leaves me lots of room to play.

Initially I had the London portal opening into a pantry. But really that was pretty inhospitable of the Jekyll family. Now, the portal opens into a large ground floor room with windows overlooking an English garden, window seats built in and comfortable club room furniture scattered around. There is a flagstone floor because I love the word flagstone as well as the sense of permanence such a floor conveys. The fireplace is fitted with a fake gas log and a mirror hangs above the mantel.

McCubbin Exhibition

Writing of art exhibitions in the previous post reminded me. An exhibition of Frederick McCubbin's work is opening at the Art Gallery of Western Australia. He was like an Australian Impressionist and his work is pleasant, engaging viewing.

If I knew the rules of copyright, I'd copy a painting here to show you. But since I'm unsure, instead here is the link to the exhibition. http://www.artgallery.wa.gov.au/exhibitions/McCubbin-Last-Impressions.asp

I'll definitely brave the summer heat to see this.

The Economist

I read fast. Spending a lot of money ($10--the price of a cheap paperback book) for a magazine finished in an hour riles me. In the Economist I've found my perfect magazine. I can dip into it for days. Read cover to cover (ads included) it gives me a sense of connection to world issues. Even when I don't agree with its analysis, I feel I can trust its facts (mostly, there have been a couple of stumbles recently--like the impression of US military high-ups meeting an Iranian counterpart). It also gives just enough science news for a non-scientist like me to marvel and go "wow" at what's around the corner. The book reviews are good, and occasionally I amuse myself reading the reviews of exhibitions and thinking how far away they are for a non-travelling, poor person based in Western Australia.

Enchanted Glass

"Enchanted Glass" by Diana Wynne Jones is top of my pre-order list, and only a month to go!

The worlds of Chrestomanci and Howl are fabulous, but I remember "Dogsbody" which I read about twenty years ago. I'm haunted by its ending, and I have my fingers crossed that "Enchanted Glass" will return to the "real" world as "Dogsbody" did and add fantasy.

In fact, "Dogsbody" and "Magicians of Caprona" are probably the two books that developed my taste for fantasy--if you ignore early exposure to Enid Blyton's Folk of the Faraway Tree. Diana Wynne Jones showed that fantasy was more than escape, it was a shrewd take on reality. Much like "The Year of the Griffin" neatly captures the experience of entering university.

Table for One

He ate loneliness for Christmas,
supping with a long spoon.
Pride was cold, but anger hot.
He took an alkaseltzer.


I think it was Magdalen at AbsoluteWrite who found the perfect title for this festive ;) poem.

The Walk Alones

The Walk Alones is my first, and so far, only, fantasy novel. It's short, but I learned a lot writing it--have learned more since--and I still enjoy the characters. A sequel is lurking in my computer, but really requires a total rewrite and the chance to stand alone. I like that the villain in the sequel is a shapeshifter, not a werewolf or anything, but someone who can exactly resemble someone else. The question of identity is always interesting.

I couldn't resist trying out the post of a book cover, and I love this one. Moreover, the question on Dear Author about backlists made me think of mine. For all that I haven't hit the big time (or even the small time) four of my novels have been published electronically

The Affinity Bridge

The Affinity Bridge by George Mann is one of those books which by being brilliant in parts makes me pickier about its faults.

Its setting, an alternative Victorian universe and primarily London, is richly imagined and determinedly steampunk. Nor does Mann rely on one mystery to carry the book. He has subplots and hints at character revelations.

But that brings us to the characters, and my big disappointment. The protagonist, Sir Maurice, simply stayed flat (and therefore irritating) and his motivations unclear. He's an agent for the Queen, but surely that's not reason enough to run around London waving his papers and rightly being attacked for his trouble.

The thing is, characters are like real life people--there's no accounting for taste. Some people undoubtedly found Sir Maurice a charming, intriguing hero. Me, I'd tip his opiate down the drain and warn his superiors that addiction makes for unreliability. Perhaps that's the explanation for his scattergun, chatterfest approach to investigation?

And for all my complaints about poor Sir Maurice, I'd recommend "The Affinity Bridge" as a steampunk novel. His female partner, Veronica, shows Mann can develop a three dimensional character.

It's No Picnic

Death has forgotten me,
gone out on a picnic
wearing Edwardian dress.
I hope her bustle pinches.

I have an antiseptic room,
food through a tube
and I can't laugh.
Still, there's no ants.

Ah, Death. About time.
What? No, wait. Hey!
Don't walk past.
Food poisoning's room 7.

Refusing Heaven

Abandon the fences, for they are only raw
excuses to refuse ownership
of sky beyond and earth below; the growing world
extending, embracing, dancing the seasons over the suburbs.

As if the seasons ended at your fence line.
As if death could be held off, birth refused.

Fences are delusional. This is me; that is you.
Haven't you heard de Chardin? All you touch is you.
All I breathe is me. All we are extends forever.

Yet you'd have me believe in fences.

Creating a Magic System

Magic can't be allowed to simply happen. In a coherent (novel) world, there have to be consequences, and limits to magic add tension and conflict. So creating a magic system means the characters can't just wish themselves happy or out of trouble. If they make a love potion, it might have a side effect of turning the recipient green or removing all their critical faculties or turning the focus of the love potion into a chocolate mouse. To be interesting, magic has to create, not resolve, problems.

And to ground the story, magic has to have rules. The reader can be amazed by the magic, but not baffled.

A number of stories deal with these issues by making magic have a price. So a wizard loses a year of life for a major spell, or the ability to dream, or has to collect magic by harvesting dragon's teeth. But when you have an ability--say singing in tune or great hand-eye coordination--is there really a price?

So I've gone for the idea that magic is free. It's an energy (for lack of a better word) available in the world, but people's use of it is dependent on their ability to channel it. The talent for channelling is innate and takes many forms. Practice does help, but can't create a talent. The different forms in which magic users channel magic leads to their titles of weres, witches, weatherworkers, etc. Such titles don't define the people, but are a shorthand for their talents.

Terry Pratchett

With my mind so full of my own novel, I'm finding it difficult to concentrate on reviewing anyone else's. So I thought I'd simply flat out recommend an all time, fantastic author.

Terry Pratchett.

If I hadn't been such a shy kid way back when, I could have met him when he dropped into our university. Such a cool guy, sitting in our social club chatting.

The Discworld is so richly imagined and the characters so clear, the humour dry, the wisdom compassionate. I have read, and re-read these books.

Day Trader

Lyn definitely works as a day trader. The career choice reveals far more about her character, and enables her greater freedom of action than lawyering ever did. Plus, I can see that her fascination with patterns foreshadows her experience of portals. I'm annoyed to have to rewrite the first third of the book, but I'm pleased that this simple career change adds so much to the story.

I saw eternity

"I saw Eternity last night/Like a great ring of pure and endless light"
Henry Vaughan, The World

These lines have lingered with me for years and possibly prompted me into thinking of numinous experiences.

Time is our everyday experience, but here the poet is faced with eternity. It is a challenge, a reassurance, a demand to see himself and his world more clearly.

I saw eternity and in its light, what did I see?

Ever since I was taught the "sociological gaze" at uni, I guess I've been aware that we can (metaphorically) step back and view our world through a different lens. The numinous experience makes that demand of us. Here we are, but what more are we?

Review sites

I've been flicking around various book review sites in the last few weeks (mainly urban fantasy, although this slides into paranormal romance, fantasy in general, SF and crime) and I've come to the conclusion most are too crowded and the individual posts too long for my easily bewildered/distracted brain.

However, given the general resemblance of one to the other, am I the odd reader out? Does everyone else enjoy cover pics fighting for space, YouTube snips, large fonts and weird background colours?

If so, I'd guess this blog is going to be one that flowers unnoticed. Maybe a donkey orchid. After de-cluttering life, it'd be silly to clutter my online world.

Pre-Orders

Does pre-ordering books make them arrive faster? Probably not. I doubt my desperation to read the next book in a series affects publishers' schedules. On the other hand, there is satisfaction in knowing I've done all I can do to get hold of the book asap.

So there's my excuse for a buying binge on 2010 urban fantasy.

Diana Wynne Jones, Enchanted Glass
Patricia Briggs, Steel Borne
Patricia Briggs, Alpha and Omega
Tanya Huff, Enchantment Emporium
Ilona Andrews, Magic Bleeds
Lisa Shearin, Bewitched and Betrayed
Gail Carriger, Changeless

And I'm going to label this post reviews because handing over my money is a huge endorsement.

Time Zone Calculator

Having portal travel in my novel, I'm having to watch time shifts. Time and date seems the easiest time calculator to use.

Cooling off

Summer has officially started here in Perth. It'll be 37 degrees celsius, today. Air-conditioning is the obvious answer, but I always feel vaguely guilty about using energy that heats the planet to cool my living space (if that makes sense). Well, maybe soon I won't have to feel guilty.

People are looking into the possibility of geothermal energy. I really hope this works out.

My Weekly short stories

Womagwriter is one of my favourite sites when I'm in the mood to write and submit women's fiction short stories. Today I just read an unhappy bit of news for those of us trying to scrabble a place on the rocky writing cliff. My Weekly is now only accepting short stories from writers who have already been published with them.

I'm truly grateful for the two stories I've sold them. At least I can still submit. And it's such a lovely market. The people are friendly, the illustrations of your stories fun, and when you've finished the magazine the world seems a warmer place. It's a real shame that for whatever reasons they've narrowed the submission window.

Character Professions

In my previous post I talked about the heroine of my novel having a career change from lawyer to finance trader, and how this will support the story and fit the character. But have you noticed how many times writers make their protagonist a writer? Is this a case of writing about what you know, or do readers really want to know about a writer's life? Sometimes I suspect authorial laziness.

The best book I've read where the protagonist is a writer is Trisha Ashley's "The Urge to Jump". Written in first person, the voice is strong, opinionated, and unique. It matters that Sappho (the heroine) is a writer; her profession isn't just a comfortable way of letting her meander through the story. No, the fact she's a writer drives the story. Sappho's used a real man as the basis for her hero (or used his photograph) and there will be consequences. And her villain is gorgeous, or should I say villains? There are plenty of people, warts and all, spilling across the page.

"The Urge to Jump" is my favourite book by Trisha Ashley. Good enough that I've bought others and been disappointed that they haven't met this gold standard, although they remain a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Somewhere between women's fiction and chicklit. Think Katie Fforde.

Having put my vote in for "The Urge to Jump", I just remembered Elizabeth Peters' Jacqueline Kirby. Now, there's a character who's a writer and who I thoroughly enjoy. There are probably more. Hmm. Must stop thinking of this and start typing novel.

Aha moments

Well, this blog has already paid for itself. By forcing my brain to think of other things, I actually got a bit of distance on my novel. And then I realised why the pacing was skewiff.

Most importantly, I've given Lyn allies too early in the story. I hate conflict in real life, and tend to be too nice to the characters I create. But Lyn is pathologically independent. No way would she be relying on someone in the first third of the book.

And as I lay awake last night unravelling where my story wandered off track into allydom, I realised it was a fundamental error. I'd made Lyn a lawyer (she has hang-ups about justice), but the problem with that is she can't drop her current life to deal with new issues, and the story can't wait for her to hand over cases, and she is too conscientious to neglect her clients. Oh hell, I'd fallen into the trap of giving her an obvious profession.

So last night I really considered her choices and really, she wouldn't have chosen to be a lawyer. She'd have gone with her talents to make herself independent. Her talent is numbers and patterns. Obviously she'd put that to use in finance, work from home, stand or fall alone.

Ha. I'm really pleased to have put my finger on the problem, but not so happy that 30,000 words have to be pushed aside. Draft 2, here I come.

Books for Christmas

I have six books set aside to read over Christmas weekend. Three by Phoebe Atwood Taylor and one each from Donna Andrews, Carolyn Hart and Dorothy Cannell. Favourite authors all.

I was also meant to set aside Jessica Hart's "Under the Boss's Mistletoe", but shamefully read it in one gulp on the day I bought it. I do like Hart's category romances.

I read a lot of romances, mostly contemporary, some urban fantasy/paranormal, a few regencies. Finished Joan Smith's "Aunt Sophie's Diamonds" at lunchtime. Such a gorgeous touch of humour, and a likeable hero.

Australia. Continent, but no longer a single country

I'm 34. Will it be in my lifetime that climate change, demographic reality, shifting identities and loyalties change Australia from a single nation to a continent of nations?

When I look at the size of our landmass and the precarious land use in other countries--Pacific islands, Bangladesh, the Maldives--I wonder how seriously they look at us and think of emigration. And how seriously must we consider opening our borders?

There are problems. Do we let whole nations or ethnic groups move to Australia, and if we do, will they, should they, assimilate or do we carve off a portion of land to be theirs? And if we start dishing out land, other nations will come looking. China, Indonesia, India. The world is interested in our mineral and energy resources, and also in the food security of owning our land. Could our generosity start a war? Would we be generous?

Launched

She dreams she is a boat
afloat on a people sea,
rocked by the waves of eternity.
Weather forecast uncertain.

Numinous

Here's Wikipedia's useful intro to the numinous. It's about the confronting, fascinating encounter with otherness. Sounds like urban fantasy, hmm? A world linked to, but beyond, everyday human experience.

This is fun

I've allowed myself a whole day to set up this blog. It's exciting, and a gold plated excuse to wriggle out of the word count I should be doing on my urban fantasy novel. Of course, at the back of my mind I'm still musing on ways to make life difficult for its heroine. Poor Lyn. I keep adding in problems--portal travel, portal ownership, a wereleopard, hostile family, a serial killer. It's a wonder she has time to breathe.

I'm trying to work out how my posts will group. Probably reviews (which are both an indulgence because I love reading and a way of learning the craft of writing), about the novel (because it is uppermost in my mind and maybe talking about it will help resolve some plot tangles), musings (about life, society, religion), poetry (so it doesn't all lurk unseen in my red spiralbound notebook) and interesting things other people say.

Maybe I should have called this site a scrapbook?

Forgotten Authors

Any favourite authors who are out of print?

Anne Hepple. I adore her book, "The Mettlesome Piece", a mid-Twentieth Century Scottish romance. A wounded hero and heroine and how they heal and find each other. As with all Hepple's books, other plot strands wind through the romance. Sweet, but not cloying.

Emma Lathen is just about my favourite mystery writer--all right, excepting Allingham, Christie, Maron, Stabenow, Crispin, and a huge list. Still I regret that the John Putnam Thatcher and Ben Safford books are out of print.

I'm similarly pleased to have acquired and hung onto the now out of print Karen Rose Cercone trio of Steel Ashes, Coal Bones, etc. And I adore Charlotte McLeod/Ailsa Craig. I have a weakness for cosy mysteries.

One Sentence

Have you ever noticed how one sentence can change a novel? Maybe I exaggerate, a couple of sentences. Ilona Andrews' "Magic Bites" is my most recent example. I was finding her heroine, Kate Daniels, tough going and then I read:

"The bravado is amusing, but it becomes tiresome."
I sighed. "I'm a merc. I walk like a merc, I talk like a merc, I act like a merc."
"So you admit to being a walking stereotype?"
"It's safer that way," I said honestly.

Bingo. Kate became a full fledged character, and more than that, I was intrigued, hooked. Now, I own all Andrews' books and have pre-ordered the next Kate Daniels, "Magic Bleeds".

Burnt Fingers Don't Bother Aliens

A tentacle is expendable,
re-growable,
agreeable to be useable
to poke unknown things.

Defeated. Baptised

My surrender is desperate. Not to choose,
but to pause in tiredness. Face against the pale trunk
of fresh peeled river gum. Its leaves whispering,

"Let go. Let the hurts fall away.
Let life trace new patterns.
Draw courage from the earth,
from gentle rain and brilliant sun,
from the river ever running."

Accept my abandonment, O God.
Stripped of all, I rest in you.

Toby

If you're looking at the photo of me, I'm not actually a golden retriever. The clown laughing back at you is Toby, my dog, who shames me on a regular basis by not running away from cameras as his cowardly owner does.

Beginning

There are a few things that are going to happen in this blog. Opinions, whinges, musings, stuff that maybe shouldn't be inflicted on the world, but kept safely in my head. I'll review books I love, think through ideas I've read and which resonate with me, write about writing and generally howl at the silence.

The idea with calling this blog "Acquiring Magic" is threefold.

One, as someone beginning a writing career (well, I intend to be a writer, now all I have to do is convince agents/publishers and, most importantly, readers that they want me to write, too) I'm learning a craft, and that's rather like acquiring magic. Once you have the skills, once you've learnt to hide the effort involved, to the observer it looks like magic.

Two, the book I'm working on is urban fantasy, a sub-genre I've chosen because of how much I enjoy Diana Wynne Jones' work, Patricia Briggs, Ilona Andrews, Tanya Huff (don't you love her Hell in "Summon the Keeper"?) and so many other great authors, and urban fantasy means I have to create a world with magic in. My heroine, Lyn Cortez, is learning about her magic, and so am I. I wish the damn stuff would stop changing. Can magic be a character in it's own right?

Three, the other reason I chose to write urban fantasy is for the chance to explore the concept of the numinous. I'm still coming to terms with what "numinous" means to me. I think it's a shorthand for "the other" touching our lives--whether it's love, God, fate, karma, a moment of enlightenment, I don't know. Expect a few confused posts as this idea weaves through my thoughts and works.

And one final confession, I will be posting poems. They are a great way to scrape the ideas from the inside of my brain. I turn them out and think, wow, is that what I think? Strange, but true.