"Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes."

So! It's been a hell of a while, right? I've been dark here for a while (though, as always, the best place to see what I'm up to is Facebook or Twitter), because as you may recall, earlier this year Nero was offered an amazing job in Amsterdam. After a lot of soul-searching, we decided to take the plunge. We moved at the end of July, and since then, it's been...well, there's been a lot of pancakes.

There's fruit on it, so technically speaking it's one of my five a day.

There's been a lot of other things too. We lived in a fancy hotel for a while when we first got here and were house-hunting. Luckily for us, it was a pet-friendly hotel, so Yuki was able to be a five-star luxury cat for a few weeks.

Her life is pain.

She handled it as best she could, but I'll be honest - even a five-star hotel is still a hotel, and it was a massive relief to move into our new home in mid-August. We're in a quiet neighbourhood just outside of Amsterdam, surrounded by canals, ducks, and herons, and I absolutely love it here. Miss Yuki has settled in nicely, too.

Mijn kat is buiten

While Nero started his new job pretty much straight away, I spent August and early September job-hunting before finally landing a new role in mid-September. Yay! It's with a company I really like so far, doing work I genuinely believe in and that makes a difference to people's lives. And as an added bonus, the hours are pretty flexible, and I now have a much shorter commute to and from the office, so I have more writing time! Not to mention more time to explore Amsterdam.

Classic Netherlands.

I was apprehensive about the move, in all honesty. We've both left behind good friends, beloved family, jobs we were happy in, and a city we knew well and have lots of amazing memories of. And although I do miss my people, I have fallen in love with Amsterdam. It's vibrant and interesting, and has many fine pancake houses, and I now get the pleasure of showing people around when they come to stay, which I love doing!

So, it's taken a few months, but I feel settled in now, and have finally learned which way to look when I cross the road (not that it helps).

And in between all the moving, house-hunting, job-hunting, and waffle-eating, I have been writing. I did lose my rhythm leading up to the move (honestly, part of the reason I'm so glad I love it here is because I NEVER WANT TO PUT MY LIFE INTO BOXES, PUT THE BOXES ON A FERRY, TRAVEL ACROSS AN OCEAN, PUT THE BOXES IN A HOTEL AND LIVE OUT OF THE BOXES FOR A MONTH EVER AGAIN), and I really stalled on Chaos Songs for several months.

Instead, I ended up writing an Amber Morgan book that I adore, and which should be out later this month, and collaborating on another project with Olivia R Burton, which was just tons of fun (and you should check it out). I got back to Chaos Songs in September and was determined to finish it in September... and then in October... and then in November... and then it turned out this was quite a hard book to write because I really wanted to stay true to the rules of the world I've developed since BLOOD WITCH, whilst at the same time letting my characters progress, and, well, it was hard work.

But I finally wrapped the book up this weekend. Huzzahs! I feel kinda exhausted, but fired up at the same time, because now I can start thinking seriously about the next two (and last) books in the Blood Canticles series. My goal is write them both in 2019 if I can, although the next project on my list is another Amber Morgan book. I've been pushing myself since we moved to look at ways of increasing my writing productivity and managing my writing time better, and I have some plans in place to make sure I stay focused and busy in 2019. So hopefully I can bring you more books that you guys love as much as me!

I'm probably not going to get back to a regular blogging schedule, apart from to share news, as I think time spent blogging could better be spent writing. The same goes for the newsletter (which you may have noticed hasn't exactly been happening anyway, but in my defence, I've had a lot going on). So again, Facebook and Twitter are the best places to see what's going on and I love to make friends, so come on and say hi!

Leidseplein being all festive.

May Accountability

Emerging out the other side of the depressive fog that's been hanging over me since last autumn, I made the mistake of thinking hard about myself. This is a mistake largely because I'm riddling with self-doubt at the best of times, and the past few months (with a few small exceptions) have not been the best of times. I started analyzing what I'm writing, how I'm writing, whether I can do more as an author, whether I should change my focus, change my habits, change my identity...

(Never let it be said that I am not privately deeply melodramatic).

The main reason for all the worry and overthinking (besides that just being how I roll) is that being a writer is the only thing I've ever wanted, the only ambition I've ever had, and I want to do it as well as I possibly can. I think that requires regular revisiting of where I am, where I want to be, and what I can do to keep moving forward.

And after a few anguished internal debates and a few more books on How To Be A Writer, I realised (late in the game, to be honest), that the best thing I can do for my writing career is what I'm already doing. Write. It sounds ridiculously simply, but sometimes I lose sight of the woods for the trees. That feeling that I need to be marketing myself and my books, that I need to be "on," that my social media needs to be the magical mystic blend of Self Promotion and Self Deprecation to lure people in and sell them my books, that can become all-consuming. And it takes time away from writing.

And frankly, I don't have enough time as it is.

So, May Accountability - I am narrowing my focus. I'm not disappearing from social media. You can still find me on Facebook and Twitter, and I've love to virtually hang out with you and hear about your cute pets. But I'm going to be blogging a lot less. I don't blog much anyway, but I constantly beat myself up about that, and the best way to cut that shit out is to just officially decide not to blog much. I'll still be hosting my fellow authors for their books and posting news about my own books as it comes, but that's about it.

Writing. I'm going slow on Chaos Songs because I've had edits for an Amber Morgan project, and because all that overthinking really interfered with my ability to sit down and write. But I'm really hoping I can finish it by the end of June at the latest (don't hold me to that though). After that, I'm not sure what I'll work on next, but I've decided not to worry about that until Chaos Songs is done anyway. I have more ideas that I know what to do with, and planning too far ahead never works for me.

And finally, I decided to start a newsletter. You can find the sign up link in the blog sidebar. Currently my plan is to use it for announcements and giveaways tied to new releases, but I may also include a serial story (it will have werewolves!) if the interest is there. So feel free to sign up if you're curious and want to stay up-to-date!

Wednesday Snippet - Wherever she'd been, it wasn't their realm.

Happy mid-week! I hope you're all having the week you want, that your tea is hot and your favourite snacks are at hand. I've been neglecting Chaos Songs a little lately, which I've talked about a bit, but I thought I'd share a snippet anyway. Real life is calming down and balancing out again, which is good for me and hopefully good for my writing too. I have been kinda distracted by a couple of other projects, but in the spirit of the Year of the Kappa, I need to adjust and adapt and allow for that.

So! Let's catch up with Lola, shall we?

Oh, I am anxious and aching, breathing the burning air

A four-day weekend is upon us and I couldn't be more ready. It's been a strange week, mentally. The fog of depression and anxiety came down again, and suddenly every day has been a struggle from waking to sleeping. It's been a week where I haven't been able to write, despite being full of love for both the projects I'm working on. A week where my day job has seemed overwhelming and I've lain in bed every morning secretly hoping I'll discover I'm suddenly sick and can't go in. A week where I look at all the weird little coping mechanisms I have and suddenly wonder is this normal? A week where dread has settled in the pit of my stomach for no reason, and my head has throbbed and my body has rebelled against me, and I find myself wondering is there something wrong with me? Some mystery illness? Some phantom condition that's silently killing me?
Of course there isn't. My body is fine. My mind is mis-firing, and all I can really do is get through each hour and say to myself, see? Nothing bad happened. And that's how I make it to the end of the week. Tomorrow I won't have to get up with the alarm clock. I won't have to go anywhere or do anything if I don't want to. I'll have four days where I can read under a fluffy blanket with Yuki on my lap and a cup of tea at hand, write if the spirit moves me, and laze on the sofa with Nero watching MasterChef. I can exhale.
I don't know how other people experience anxiety, but for me it's a sense of not having enough time, of not working hard enough, of not being good enough, of having faked my way in life. And so my writing suffers. What's the point in me writing when my writing isn't good enough? What's the point of writing if I can't get out 5k a day, every day? What's the point in writing when I'll never write all the books in my heart? And so I don't write, and then I feel worse, because I'm not working hard enough at writing.
There really aren't any tricks to getting out of this cycle. I just have to write something. Anything. There are scenes in my head for Chaos Songs waiting to get out. I just have to unfreeze myself, and sometimes that takes a while. 
But I have four days ahead of me, and today the sense of dread isn't so deep. Today I feel like I might be okay, and while that feeling lasts, I plan to do the little things that bring me peace. Burn a spiced vanilla candle, read a Point Horror book, wear a perfume laced with lavender and chocolate. And write, because I know, I know, that once the words are flowing, I will feel less claustrophobic, less uncertain, and more grounded. I've been here before, so many times. I know the way out, and I find the way out, every time. And that's how I make it to the end of the week.

"By March, the worst of the winter would be over."

Neil Gaiman.

This quote is a lie, by the way. Here in Cambridge, we're experiencing Actual Snow and everyone is falling into a state of icy panic. We have fraught discussions over how many pairs of socks we should wear, whether the buses and trains will be running, and if our boss will let us go home early. We're not designed for snow. Especially in March.

And it is March! I've been conspicuous by absence round here, I guess. So let me catch you up on things in my favourite manner: by making a list.

1. THROWN TO THE WOLVES won an Evernight Reader's Choice award! It was voted Best Romance on the Go, so thank you very much, lovely readers. And IMPERIAL DEMON was runner-up for best lesbian romance, so thank you again! If you hop on over to Evernight's site, you can use the coupon code WINNER2017 to get 25% off any Readers' Choice winners and runner-uppers. I'm always slightly shocked to win any kind of accolade, and it wouldn't happen without people taking the time to vote for the books, of course, so thank you again! Kisses.

2. Nero and I had an AMAZING holiday in Japan and spent loads of time with @pocketrex, which was also AMAZING, and we met so many lovely cats and ate so much fantastic food, and saw so many incredible sights, and I loved it, and we're going back next summer. If you want a glimpse of our adventures, the best thing to do is find my pictures on Instagram.

3. I'm doing much better mental health-wise. I'm still having some black days here and there, but the constant, aching anxiety I was dealing with before Christmas is under control. There's still work to do, but I'm out of deep water.

4. I'm working on the next Blood Canticles book, Chaos Songs. I'm so happy to be back with Lola and Tris! My plan this year is to focus on Blood Canticles and the Luporum. The Luporum was always going to be a trilogy, and that hasn't changed. Blood Canticles, I think, has two more books after Chaos Songs. Work has started slowly, because I'm still trying to get back into the daily writing rhythm that my anxiety and depression busted, but I have so many ideas and plans for Chaos Songs that have been brewing since before I even finished IMPERIAL DEMONS, and I'm excited about sharing some snippets with you soon!

5. I always name the year after a mythical animal, dating back to the hallowed, ancient times of 2013. Normally I do a big post about it in January, but obviously it's not January anymore, so here's the quick and dirty version: 

2018 is the Year of the Kappa. Partly inspired by our visit to a Goblin Pond in Tokyo on New Year's Eve, partly because the kappa is a creature associated with water, which is the element associated with emotions, and that feels right as I battle against anxiety and depression, and partly because a kappa, to me, is a creature of balance. If he loses the water in the indent in his head, he loses his power. Balance is going to be a big theme for me this year as I work to keep various plates in the air: writing, perfume-making, home life, health, and work life. So even though the kappa has a reputation for trouble-making and, um, drowning people and eating their souls, I feel like he's the right symbol for me this year.

So I think that brings us up to speed. Hopefully I'll be blogging more frequently going forward, but you can always find me on Twitter and Facebook for more frequent nonsense. Happy March!

Housekeeping

Hello, folks. *blows dust off blog* It's been a bit quiet round here since the release of IMPERIAL DEMONS, I know. I've been a bit quiet. Normally I would have sent out promo packs to fellow authors who generously offer blog space, and I generally try to be "present" online without constantly screaming HEY I HAVE A NEW BOOK OUT PLEASE LIKE IT!!!

But I'm not feeling very normal at the moment. I'm going through what I think of as a quiet patch of depression. That is to say, I'm standing at the edge of a stormy sea, aware I could be sucked in by the tide, rather than being out in that storm, helpless while the water closes over my head. I've suffered from depression on and off for...most of my life, I guess? I was undiagnosed as a teenager, but once I got diagnosed at university, I could look back and say "oh, that's what that was." Sometimes I need counselling and medication, and sometimes I get by without either of those things and just ride the storm out.

This time, it crept up on me slowly. I knew I was getting more anxious and irrational in my thoughts throughout September and October, but I blamed that on the approaching anniversary of my dad's death. But the feeling didn't pass once October did, and suddenly I found myself in the toilets at work, the day after IMPERIAL DEMONS came out, sobbing over nothing, and thought, "yeah, you probably need to talk to someone."

So I talked to my doctor and I'm taking medication, and I'm now at that nice point where I recognise that my thoughts aren't facts, and I can observe them rather than let them consume me. The storm is still out there, but I'm safe on the beach.

The downside is I really, really cannot write. Forget the romantic notion that suffering is good for art. For me, that's never been true. My writing started to lag in September, was almost nonexistent in October, and despite my resolution to write every day in November to finish an Amber Morgan book, I've done...virtually nothing again. It frustrates and panics me, and it takes away one of my coping mechanisms for when I feel low. So that's kind of a vicious circle. I want to write because I feel sad, but I feel too sad to write. My brain is...blank. Simple tasks feel beyond my strength, and writing isn't a simple task no matter how much I enjoy it. It takes time and care and love, and I don't have the energy or motivation for those things right now.

So in short, I'm not doing very much at the moment and I'm saving my energy for stuff I can't avoid, like going to work and remembering to put my clothes on the right way round (I did forget one day, but luckily I realised my top was on back to front before anyone else got to the office).

Nevertheless, there is stuff happening that I want to talk about. People who follow me on Facebook and Twitter may already know, but for those who don't, Ragnarok Publications recently announced they will be closing their doors temporarily. I don't know what will happen long-term (though I wish the team all the best), but short-term, UNDERTOW is one of the books that will be pulled from sale in December. All the rights will revert to me then.

I won't lie. I'm gutted. I'd just started to think there was still a chance to keep the Shoregrave/Ethan Banning dream alive. I'd had some positive talks with the new Ragnarok team when they took over, and felt like Ethan, at least, had a shot.

Now...now I don't know. In a way, the depression is helping me decide, because when I weigh up whether I have the energy right now to either self-publish AFTERLIFE, DEMONIZED, and UNDERTOW, or try to find new homes for them, the answer is hell no. I've been trying to keep the series afloat for a long time now, and honestly, whilst I love Ethan Banning to death, I'm basically flogging a dead horse at this point. Part of my heart will always tell me I need to go back and write more stories in this world, with these characters, but after years of telling myself "maybe," I think it's time to tell myself "no."

So that's that. As from December 1st, UNDERTOW will no longer be available. I will leave the Ethan Banning Files short stories available on Amazon and Smashwords, but AFTERLIFE and DEMONIZED will not be republished and I don't intend to write anymore books in this series.

Phew.

Okay. That's it, really. I'm hoping to ease back into writing a bit at a time, and in my ideal world, I'll finish that Amber Morgan book before we take off to Japan at the end of December. Realistically, that probably isn't going to happen, but let's call it a soft goal. In the meantime, I'm off to check my jumper is on the right way round.

The Hook on the Hand

So one of the things I didn't get around to mentioning in my The Cemetery post is the use of the urban legend commonly known as The Hook. It comes up twice - once when Rick is telling ghost stories at the Halloween party* and again when Dorian is killed by the Ripper. Just before his death, Cyndi finds a hook attached to Dorian's car:

If you're not familiar with the story, The Hook dates back to roughly the 1950s, and like most urban legends, serves as a morality tale for hormonal teens, much the same way fairy tales like Red Riding Hood warned young women against predatory men of court back in the day. The quick and dirty version of the story is thus:

A young couple are parked up down some lovers' lane. The radio plays while they make out. A breaking news story announces that a serial killer has escaped from a local mental institution and can be identified by the hook on his hand. The couple decide to leave, with various spins on the end of the story following. Either they get home to find a bloody hook dangling from the car door, or for some reason the man has to leave the car, and the woman later finds him dead. Some variations see her hearing strange thumping on the roof of the car, only to discover said serial killer up there with her boyfriend's severed head. One version sees her finding the boyfriend hung from a tree over the car, his nails scraping the roof as his body swings back and forth.

However the story ends, the message is clear: keep it in your pants, kids!

Now, clearly this is a warning against loose morals and sexual experimentation, and we could even link to back to the real-life Phantom Killer case of 1946, but I'm not here to talk about horny teens and the fates they richly deserve. I'm here to ask questions. Two questions, specifically.

First - why is the killer an escaped mental patient?

And second - why the blazing hell would someone who'd been instutionalised be allowed to keep a hook on their hand?

I mean, look, I know mental health care in 1950s America wasn't the best, but we were seeing a move towards more community-based care and less underfunded, understaffed, brutally poorly-run institutions. In any case, I have to assume that even the worst asylum going wouldn't let someone with a hook for a hand just keep that hook. Especially if that patient was also a serial killer and also certifiable insane as the story implies. That's just...really bad practice, you guys.**

Also, for the record, I think a hook is probably a really inefficient way to serial-kill people.

But let's circle back to question one. Why does the story conflate mental illness with murder? Why is a mental patient automatically dangerous, or a killer?

I noted with Help Wanted and The Mummy that there is a tendency in Point Horror books to make the villains "crazy." I guess it's an easy literary shortcut - they're doing bad things because they're mentally ill! Case closed. And of course nowadays you don't have to wait long to hear "was he mentally ill?" whenever a lone white male goes on a mass shooting spree. This clearly completely ignores the fact that many of us with mental health problems never bloody kill anyone***.

We can blame it on the era. Like I say, mental health care in the 1950s was undergoing a change, but the change in treatment options wasn't necessarily followed by a change in understanding. The stigma surrounding mental health continues to this day, and the understanding of conditions evolves slowly, with social understanding tending to lag behind medical understanding, because let's face it - "sociopath" is just such a cool term to throw around.****

You would think, for a 1950s warning against whipping your dick out in public places, you wouldn't need the added "scare" of the killer being a crazy guy. We can talk about the abnormal psychology that might lead someone to become a serial killer, for sure, but there are always exceptions to the generally accepted "signs." I'm not here to say serial killers are not mentally ill, though. I'm here to say mentally ill people are not destined to become serial killers, and that the conflation of "mentally ill" with "dangerous" is itself a damaging stereotype. And it's so prevalent in the news, in literature, and even in old spoopy urban legends, that it feels worth reiterating as often as possible. Psychotic is not psychopathic. Depressed is not dangerous. Hooks are not good murder weapons.

*Even though this is categorically not a ghost story, Rick, you moron. I'm glad someone knocked you out.

**And don't tell me he could have got the hook after escaping. Where's an escaped asylum inmate going to find a hook? Like, how much effort is that kind of person going to put into find a hook they can attached to their wrist and use to kill people? There are easier ways to kill people, that's all I'm saying. 

***Even if Karen is super annoying.

****That was sarcasm, by the way.

October Accountability

What the hell happened to September? I feel like it just vanished without me getting anything done.

This may well be because I didn't get much done, really... I've been working on an Amber Morgan project, but progress has been slow. I really have no excuses except I probably needed to slow down a little bit. The day job has been crazy all year, and every time I get my head above water, another wave of ethics reports/grant reports/fire regulations crashes over me. I had a boss once who said I wasn't cut out for office work. I agreed with him at the time. Now I think I am cut out for office work, but only through some harrowing survival-of-the-fittest experiences where I am the only person who knows how to find out how to submit an ethics report to the European Research Council so my boss keeps me around forever and ever.

Anyway, it's now October! I am anticipating edits for IMPERIAL DEMONS and hoping to wrap up the Amber Morgan book (which I was definitely going to easily finish in September, no problem). The plan then is to move onto Urban Wolf 6, which I'd anticipate taking the rest of the year.

On the non-writing front, I'm trying to make daily time for physiotherapy/yoga for my poor knackered shoulders and arms. Winter weather tends to set off a lot of my aches and pains, so I'm trying to get ahead of the curve. I had an ultrasound earlier in the year that revealed no tears or inflammation that could be causing my various symptoms, so my only treatment option is strengthening my arms and back and seeing if that eases the pain. I am not one of life's natural exercisers, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. If it sees me through the long, dark, grim, dark, wet, dark British winter without the frustration and agony I usually get, it'll be worth it.

I'm planning to dig out some Halloweeny Point Horrors for some Retro Reading blogs this month if I can. There aren't that many available for the Kindle, so I may have to ~gasp~ buy some paperbacks.

I'm about halfway through my initial pass of Afterlife, which basically consists of changing a few character names and laying the groundwork for a proper, thorough going-over. I'd like to have it ready to submit by the end of the year, which seems doable (she said naively).

After that it's November, which means Anti-Nano! If all goes according to plan, I'll be working on Urban Wolf 6, but we'll talk about that later.

In the meantime, I'm leaving you with one of my favourite Tom Petty songs, because goddammit. RIP, Tom. <3

September Accountability

We're heading into Autumn and I'm thinking about werewolves. My plan for after the current Amber Morgan project is done is to move onto the next Urban Wolf book. I've also got the start of the next Luporum book floating around in my head, and some whispers of a stand-alone werewolfy urban fantasy romance revenge thing that I'm not even touching because I cannot start any new projects this year even though I did already.

My aim is to finish the Amber Morgan book this month, and move onto Urban Wolf 6 in October. I am hoping for first round edits on IMPERIAL DEMONS this month as well, though, so we'll see.

I'm trying to clear a few extra things out of my life this month to free up more time for writing, as well as squeezing a few new things in. I'm supposed to be doing daily physio for my knackered shoulder, which...doesn't always happen. I'm also supposed to be going to the gym and working on a routine to build the strength in both my arms up, which...hasn't happened at all, because as a hardcore introvert, the idea of going to the gym just horrifies me. But I suppose I should figure something out before I'm next due at the doctor and have to explain to him why I've been slacking off on all this stuff.

So we're approaching the change of the seasons, and I'm trying to make some simple life changes. I'm also letting go (or at least putting on hiatus) some writing and non-writing creative projects that have been causing me some anxiety to varying degrees this year. I'm not trying to be vague, I'm just not sure there's anything interesting to say about them, except that letting them go/putting them on hiatus is ultimately going to make me happier and more productive for the rest of the year.

So! That's September. Stay tuned for news on IMPERIAL DEMONS as and when I get it!

Five Things I Hate About Cube

A few weeks ago I was reading a list online. Something along the lines of "ten most gruesome deaths in cinema," I think. I can't remember. It's not important. The important thing is, one of the deaths was from the movie Cube. Cube is a 1997 drama/mystery/sci-fi film (says IMDB) about a giant murdering Rubik's cube and I hate it with a deep and abiding passion. Most of the time it doesn't really affect me day-to-day, but then I read something about it randomly on an online list and it reminds me that it exists and I hate it, and then I tweet about it, and lovely Madeline Franklin asks me why I hate it and I tell her I'm going to write her a freaking essay about it, and here we are.

You bastard.

Let's start with some background. In Cube, we find ourselves watching as six unbearable people wake up to find themselves mysteriously whisked away from their lives to the cube. At first it seems they're just trapped in this one room, but they quickly learn their room is part of an interconnecting series of rooms (or "cubes"), most of which are filled with deadly, deadly traps. Their mission is to escape, which they attempt to do using maths (badly).

There, that's the basic premise. I can't remember where I first saw it, but I was at sixth form and friends with a psychology student who insisted it was an elegant study of the way people's civilised fronts collapse under extreme pressure. I guess that doesn't sound too bad, on reflection. Maybe I'm just not sophisticated enough to enjoy your elegant social breakdown movies, Jenny. Maybe I'm the problem.

But I'm not. And here are five reasons why.

1. It's pretentious.

Honestly, I'm not a sophisticated film-watcher. But that's fine, because Cube is not sophisticated in my opinion, it's bullshit and pretentious. Each of the characters is named after a famous prison get it because they're imprisoned. Clever. I could probably deal with that by itself, but the plot is pure high-concept fluff with no depth whatsoever. Giant murder cube, built by ~someone~ for ~reasons that are never revealed~ because ~who even knows?~ We never find out, really, who built the cube or why. One of the prisoners, Worth, turns out to have been involved in the design, but doesn't actually know what he was designing or why or who for, because apparently when shadowy agencies ask you to design giant murder cubes, you don't worry about the purpose of said murder cube. Just collect your paycheck, Worth.

We never find out why these people have been chosen. I mean, Quentin's a dick (see point two), but none of them appear to be bad people. They were snatched for no reason by forces that are never revealed for a purpose that is never revealed. Maybe this is actually a clever commentary on how life is random and there's no underlying cosmic order to anything, or maybe the writers just couldn't think of a good explanation. You decide!

Again, I'm not a sophisticated film-watcher. I like superheroes and explosions and fantasy escapism. But my favourite films have more to them than just "because reasons" and I don't think that's too high a bar to clear. Telling me the cube just exists, that people are just kidnapped and put in it just because - that's not clever storytelling. We're expecting to overlook it because omg death traps! In cubes! I guess it's not dissimilar from The Human Centipede* where we're expected to just accept that Dr Whatisface is kidnapping people and sewing them together because he's just that wacky, you guys.

Step 1: sew people together
Step 2: ???
Step 3: ???????????????

High-concepts are fine, but they need to be backed up with solid storytelling and characters I can invest in. Which brings me to point two...

2. I fucking hate everyone in it.

Yes, all of them. The mathematical genius schoolgirl. The conspiracy theorist doctor. The angry cop. The other guys. This is purely subjective, of course, but if all of them were drowning and I only had time to save one, I'd make a sandwich.

Some of this is down to the acting, which is about as good as you can expect for cheaply-made 90s pretentious bullshit film. The dialogue doesn't help. For example:

Holloway: I think we have to ask the big questions! What does it want? What is it thinking?

It's a cube, lady! It's not thinking at all! That's...that's kind of the deal with rooms, even murder rooms.

Leaven: Give us the boot you pig!
Quentin: You don't want the boot!

What? What? I guess there's only so much even the best actor can do with "you don't want the boot." Beyond the bad acting and dialogue, these characters are not likable. Maybe they're not meant to be. Maybe we're meant to root for their grim deaths like bloodthirsty barbarians, thus proving ultimately that we, the viewers, are the real ones collapsing under the weight of our self-imposed civility. I don't know. Fuck them all. I especially hate the cop.

Partly because he's portrayed as an aggressive bully, so probably I'm at least meant to hate him, but also because "angry black man" wasn't a great look in 1997, or ever, in fact, especially in film where the characterisations are paper-thin anyway. Plus he gets a bit rapey/religious at the end.

When I watch a film I want someone to root for. Equally, I want someone for them to overcome. I can't get passionate about paper tigers stuck in a soulless death trap. Where's the bad guy for me to hate? I can't hate a cube! It's a cube. It's got no motivations. And I can't hate whoever's behind the cube because I don't even know if they fucking exist.

3. There's no resolution.

For the record, I haven't seen either of the sequels to Cube and I never will. So I accept that maybe there are some revelations I've missed out on. But as a standalone piece, there is no resolution to Cube.

The basic rules of storytelling, as I was taught are: establish the status quo > disrupt it > resolve it.

A resolution doesn't necessarily have to tie everything up neatly - and I believe there is a strong case sometimes for giving readers/viewers an ambiguous ending. However, I also believe that you have to give readers/viewers the opportunity to extrapolate a reasonable ending from the material presented. I don't believe Cube does that. Theories as to the "why" of the cube range from aliens to the government to super-villain, but no compelling evidence is dropped for any of these, and actually neither the characters nor the film itself really care because look at these murder rooms, dammit. Worth's story pushes us towards "the government probably did it" but he doesn't really know and there are no clues within the cube to help the viewers out.

The film ends with everyone dead except Kazan, an idiot savant, who walks into a bright light.

That's...that's it. He walks into a bright light and the film ends. That's it, that's the whole fucking film after I wasted all that fucking time watching these horrible people be horrible to each other in this horrible cube, that's all I fucking get. We don't see where he goes. We don't know if he's even going into another murder room or out of the cube. We get nothing. Nothing to draw even a speculative conclusion with. Fuck that film. That's deeply unsatisfying and it doesn't resolve anything.

4. It's full of botches.

Leaven wears glasses that are cracked at the start of the film and magically repair themselves throughout, then break again, then fix themselves again.

Quentin brutally beats Worth about the face with a boot, leaving him apparently close to death but also sporting just the most tasteful and delicate of wounds. I would show you a picture, but googling "Worth Cube movie" just gets me a lot of info about Ice Cube and his net worth. Trust me, Worth doesn't look like he's been pummeled by a maniac with a boot.

Those are continuity goofs, which happen, and probably aren't worth hating a film for. But the maths. The maths is bad. And a huge portion of this film depends on the maths being right, because it's what (potentially) can save our horrible cast. Briefly, each doorway in each murder room is inscribed with a set of numbers. Mathematical genius Leaven works out that these numbers may indicate which rooms are trapped, theorising that prime numbers equal trapped rooms. Later she realises it's actually powers of prime numbers that indicate traps, and luckily Kazan can work those out in his head because the plot requires it. Huzzahs!

Unfortunately, Kazan (or rather the writers) actually make several miscalculations, such as saying 462 has three prime factors when it has four, for example. Leaven, our alleged mathematical genius also makes some errors which would be fine if they were supposed to be errors, but they're not treated or flagged as such, and the whole fucking plot of this stupid fucking film hinges on prime numbers and powers of primes and these two characters knowing how to calculate them so why didn't the writers check the fucking maths?

Also there's one scene where you can see some staging equipment, but I don't want to be petty.

5. It's ultimately nihilistic.

Everyone dies at the end. Kazan might live, but we don't know because the stupid film doesn't end properly, but I think we can assume nothing good awaits him. I mean, it's either aliens or some shady humans who think nothing of kidnapping innocent people and putting them in the cube for no reason.

Nothing is revealed. Not the nature of the cube, not the builders, not the purpose.

Everything is shit. That's the lesson of this film. That you can be good, bad, bland, whatever, and it doesn't matter how you're living your life, you can still end up dead in the cube and unless you're a mathematical genius, you'll die, and even if you are a mathematical genius you'll still die, because fuck you. You can be kind or cruel, you can work together or strike out alone, and ultimately it's all futile because the murder cube will murder you. You will learn nothing. You will not develop as a person, except possibly into a worse person. The bad guys will win, assuming there are bad guys. There might not be. We don't know! These characters may just be the victims of a cold, uncaring universe where nothing they do matters because nothing anyone does matters. Maybe I should like that, because I love HP Lovecraft, but at least he gave us Cthulhu:

All Cube gave me was a deep-rooted anger problem. Then again, it's been over a decade since I last watched the stupid film and I'm still talking about it, so maybe...maybe it achieved something?

*Now there's a comparison I never thought I'd make.

The Care and Feeding of the Sick Writer

So I'm off work sick today. It feels like a virus, with an added dose of "maybe something wrong with my sinuses?" I'm breathless, hot, tired, and sneezing like a maniac. I rang a local taxi company this morning (twice!) instead of my office to call in sick, and I sent the wrong version of IN COLD BLOOD to my publisher last night after two days of editing. Definitely not in the right state to go to work and handle audits and make decisions, at least not today. And since my office is based in a hospital, I'm always slightly suspicious that I'm just going to attract more germs as I walk around.

I have this bad habit, when I'm home sick, of feeling like I still need to be a productive adult and get shit done, but given that I'm getting out of breath just walking around the house, I'm trying to resist that urge today. Luckily for me, Kyle is working from home and has heroically already supplied me with cold and flu meds, soup, and red velvet cookies. Yuki is a terrible nursemaid, and is skulking in the garden, but I'm sure she's wishing me well from a safe distance. Possibly she's consulting one of her many shrew friends for herbal remedies.

While she's doubtless questing for my cure, I'm kitting myself out for a day of huddling on the sofa with a few basic essentials.

1. Music.

Actually, Kyle picked the music, but there's never a bad time to listen to Bad Religion, and with world politics being what they are (ie, a fucking mess), they seem particularly relevant right now.


2. Tea.

I mean, this is me, so there would be tea anyway. But today I'm indulging with flowering tea from Beastly Beverages. Ideally I should have an elegant glass tea cup to show this tea off in, but I'm making do with my matcha tea bowl instead.

Incidentally, if you love fandom and tea, consider supporting Beastly Beverages! I do believe if you spend over £10 in January, you get a free gift. I recommend Pooka, the Black Forest Gateau tea.

3. Reading Material.

I recently discovered Highbrow, which offers free, bitesize online learning courses in everything from web marketing to desk yoga. I'm currently signed up for their Deadliest Dictators In History course for no reason whatsoever. Today it's Stalin, so that's cheerful. But, you know, if we don't learn from history, etc...

4. Casual Games

I'm a big fan of hidden object/puzzle games, because they're (usually) quick and I can dip in and out of them whilst writing. I've got a few piled up that I bought over Christmas and haven't tried out yet, so, assuming I won't be able to brain enough to write, I'm thinking of dipping into Rusty Lake Hotel. Although that might take more brain power than I have, in which case my back-up is Shadow Era. This is a collectible card game that I've been playing FOREVER and I love it. I love the art, I love the mythos, and I love the music. It's perfect for dipping in and out of. More than likely, however, I'll switch off the laptop entirely and play Pokemon X because...Pokemon.

5. Writing?

Maybe? I don't know. I always feel like if I'm at home with nothing else more pressing going on, I should write. I never don't want to write. It's the only thing I do that never feels like a chore, but I guess some days you have to give yourself a pass. I'm definitely not feeling like I could produce anything decent right now, so whilst the urge to at least try is still there, I'd probably do better to just disengage my brain for now. I still really want to finish Lich Queen by the end of January, but one day isn't going to be make or break, and given that it took me three attempts just now to write "going" instead of "working," I obviously can't trust my fingers today.

Anyway! Yuki has returned from the garden to spy on me and make sure I don't die before her tea time. I'm off to drink gallons of tea and read about Stalin. Happy Monday!

Constant vigilance is the price of regular meal times.

Welcome to the Year of the Valkyrie

I named 2016 the Year of the Phoenix, but the way world politics played out, it probably should have been the Year of the Bonnacon. Not just because they sprayed shit all over everything, but also because of their permanent look of anxiety. Behold:

If ever an imaginary animal exemplified a real year...

As you may know by now, I have habitually named the year after a mythological animal since 2013. For me, this has become a way of shaping my attitudes and aims for the year ahead.

I started doing this in 2013 (the Year of the Unicorn), because I was in really bad shape mentally, and I needed some magic. Can't think of anything more magical than a unicorn. 

2014 was the Year of the Kraken. I'd lost my confidence in my writing career and abilities over the previous couple of years, and in 2014 I wanted to get it back. 

2015 was the Year of the Basilisk. It was about conquering my enemies - in this case, lingering self-doubt and anxiety about myself and my choices. 

2016 was the Year of the Phoenix. It was about moving forward, writing the kind of stories that I love and finding new things to be happy about and grateful for. That's...that's been tricky at times. On a global level, 2016 was awful. On a personal level, we lost Fergus and Remic, losses I think we'll feel for a really long time still.

But come the end of the year, on a personal level, there are reasons for me to be happy and grateful. I have written stories I love and seen them published. I won an award! Common Brimstone has been so busy that I have to keep shutting it down. I have visited new countries with people I love. There have been bright moments, and they are worth cherishing and fighting for.

2017 is going to be...a year. In the UK, Article 50 will be triggered, beginning our exit from the EU. I remain staunchly pro-EU, so this disheartens and scares me. In the USA, Donald Trump will take office. I am scared and saddened for my American friends, for PoC and minorities all across America. Across the world, horrible situations already happening will keep happening, from torture to refugee crises, to civil wars, to oppression...It's easy to feel like there's just too much horrible stuff happening, that we can't make a difference, and that maybe we should just stick to our little corner of the world and worry about that.

And some days, you should do that. Self-care is important and vital, and you deserve to protect your mental health. But, darlings, not every day. Some days, you gotta get out there and fight. Fight for what you love and believe in, fight for people who can't fight for themselves, fight for your friends and yourself. And that's why 2017 is going to be the Year of the Valkyrie.

I don't know about you, but I need that warrior spirit going forward. I need to remind myself that I have a voice, and that I'm in a privileged position where I can speak out and speak up. Not all of my friends can do that. As an ally to those people, I have a responsibility to listen, to try to learn, and to push back against threats. As a pro-Remain Brit, I have a duty to speak out against the uneducated, misinformed politics that are shaping my country. As a human being, I have an obligation to act with passion, compassion, and kindness wherever and whenever I can... and to take no shit from those won't fulfill that obligation themselves. I want to be a warrior in whatever way I can, and I can't think of a better totem for that going forward than the valkyrie.

I am carrying forward two quotes with me into the New Year. One to remind me of the need for kindness:

And one to remind me of the need to fight:

I resolve to be kind. And I resolve to take no shit. Happy New Year!

"Though each path is different, there is only one way."

Moroccan Proverb

So we arrived back from Marrakech last Monday and were immediately thrown head-first into crazy work schedules, broken boiler sagas, and the terrible realisation that it's almost Christmas and we hadn't done any present shopping yet. I also had THROWN TO THE WOLVES released, and running around (online, not physically) organising promo for that took up a big chunk of time. All of which meant, I haven't had time to talk about Marrakech yet.

And I really want to talk about it! We had an amazing time! We rode camels at sunset! I feed many, many cats. We saw beautiful palaces and ate street food on the Night Market, and Kyle was harassed non-stop because of his beard, but in a nice way. It was simply an incredible experience. I feel so lucky to have been on two such different holidays this year. Iceland was an unforgettable place to visit for it's raw, rugged landscape, and Morocco was unforgettable for it's opulent beauty. I took a zillion photos, but I'll spare you the whole zillion. I've tried to pick a few of my favourites instead, just to show you the variety we found in Marrakech and beyond.

The view from our riad - the Atlas Mountains

Mountain creek running through Imlil, where we stayed

Inside the Bahia Palace

Courtyard garden inside the Bahia Palace

Grafittied bamboo at the Majorelle Gardens

Aisha, my valiant desert steed

Some of the many, many street cats we found

Lamps on the Night Market

Inside Medersa Ben Youssef, a theological school

Another example of the stunning architecture in Medersa Ben Youssef

One of the many, many pots of mint tea we consumed

Inside the Museum of Marrakech

Sunset from camel-back

Saadian Tombs

Gardens of the Saadian Tombs

On the souks

Twilight on the souks

Sunset over the Night Market

Delicious lemon-chicken tagine. Not pictured: the cat I shared it with

I'm really just scratching the surface here of the beautiful places we visited. I'm working on uploading all my photos to Pinterest if you're interested in seeing more, but in between boilers/work/Christmas it might take a while!

And of course, there's writing to get back to. I haven't touched any of my WIPs since before we went away - there just hasn't been time yet. But this is my last week at work for the year, and I'm looking forward to a week off over Christmas to catch up and make some solid progress on Through Fire and Lich Queen (formerly known as Pale Queen). It's good to go away. It's also good to come home and share the memories. Hope you've enjoyed seeing some of them!

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

So another Friday is upon us! November, and thus Anti-Nano, is over and December is here, bringing me a broken boiler (bad) and a holiday to Morocco (good). Hopefully the boiler will be fixed before we go away next week. Otherwise, barring the odd crucial piece of office work that I actually can't do without either driving myself mad or killing someone else, we're all set to go. If I survive, next Wednesday, we'll be off enjoying these gorgeous views:

And hopefully I won't be attacked by a monkey! I can't wait. I know it's not been that long since I was on holiday in Iceland, but I think I've definitely earned this one (today I've certainly already earned a holiday and I've only been at work about an hour). And of course, it'll be Kyle's birthday while we're away and this just seems like a spectacular place to celebrate.

In the meantime, I've completed the first and second round edits for THROWN TO THE WOLVES and am hoping to hear about a release date and cover art soon (hopefully before we go away!). Pale Queen and Through Fire are coming along nicely, and I've scheduled a snippet from Through Fire for next week. I'm also debating changing the title, but that's by the by.

So now it's just a question of not killing anyone (metaphorically) and hanging in there until next week. The weekend promises to be a whirlwind of house work and teaching my younger brother how to look after Ket, and Monday and Tuesday will be mad, but then...but then...Escape!