Monday, 29 November 2021

Let's Get Festive and Tingly...

It's time to pause theWeekly Update format once again for a proper stream of consciousness. Brace yourselves for an outpouring. Ready? Good. Because this month I'm sharing some essential seasonal information. On Wednesday we dive headfirst into December so the timing is perfect. Please get comfy and enjoy my Christmas Viewing Schedule for the Rest of the Year. (Catchy, right?) For all your viewing needs!

This is a guide only. A comprehensive, expertly thought-out guide nonetheless, but it will withstand tweaks. If I've included a film you cannot bear (or have no access to) by all means replace with something of your own choosing. Just click the links below to see the relevant trailers - an amuse bouche before the real thing. Season's Greetings! Enjoy! Let's get festive and tingly!


Lily, of Dash and Lily
DECEMBER 2021
1stHome for Christmas  2019 (s1 ep1-3) 
2nd - Home for Christmas  2019 (s1 ep4-6)
3rd - Home for Christmas  2020 (s2 ep1-3)
4th - Home for Christmas  2020 (s2 ep4-6)
5th - Dash and Lily 2020 (ep1-4)
6th - Dash and Lily  2020 (ep 5-8)
7th - 'Hercule Poirot's Christmas(Poirot 1994, s6 ep 1)
8th - 'Ghosts of Christmas Past(Midsomer Murders 2004, s7 ep7)
Kevin McAllister, of Home Alone 
10th - Let It Snow (2019)
11th - Nativity (2009)
12th - A Bad Moms' Christmas (2017)
13th - Trading Places (1983)
14th - Home Alone (1990)
15th - Home Alone 2 (1992)
17th - 'Carol of the Bells' (Ted Lasso 2021, s2 ep4)
Buddy and Michael, of Elf
18th
- Elf (2003)
19th - Happiest Season (2020)
24th - It's A Wonderful Life (1946)
25th -  A break for roast potatoes
26th - Time for cheese and/or sleep
Charlie Brown and gang,
of A Charlie Brown Christmas 
27th
- Knives Out (2019)
28th - Eddie the Eagle (2015)
29thDownhill (2020)
30th - Little Women (2019)
31st - When Harry Met Sally (1989)

So there's your month of viewing pleasure based on my own from last December. (This year's Ted Lasso notwithstanding.) Hurrah. What's that? You feel a little overwhelmed? You think that's a hell of a small-screen commitment to make when you could be out and about, and living life? I see. Bless you, but I think you've forgotton where we were. Last year we were juggling lockdowns. December - indeed Christmas itself - was a feat of mental ingenuity. By planning to Christmas-film the hell out of the month, I managed to have a lovely time. Looking back, December 2020 was quiet, chilled out, and relaxed. This year, assuming there are no more announcements in the pipeline, I'll be back to festive socialising once again. I guess that might beg the question, do we even need a jam-packed month of scheduled screen time, to fill a void that's no longer there? Well, do we?

Travel the world from the sofa!
Hmmm. I think we do. But I'll caveat that by saying that this list should be viewed flexibly; it contains vague suggestions rather than set-in-stone rules. December needs no extra pressures. Last year, however, these TV programmes and films got me through the lack of anything else. They provided me with a focal point to every evening and a way to live vicariously through the shenanigans of others. By watching the teen exploits of Dash and Lily, I was taken to a snowy, festive NYC for a few hours. By curling up with Home for Christmas, I went to Norway and experienced a new set of Christmas traditions. Hercule Poirot and Tom Barnaby were like old friends that pop by every year, when real-life old friend could not. The fact that the family scenes of Happiest Season (released last year so no nostalgia involved) made me feel all warm and tingly despite the stressful - and some might say problematic - premise of the plot, has GOT to be due to my lockdown-ed state of mind. Surely? I hoovered up all the Christmas viewing I could find, and let it transport me to random and far-flung locations. That was much more satisfying than simply denting the sofa in front of the telly every night. It's all about the framing.

So let's agree that the list is optional. This year, I'm looking forward to pints with friends, Christmas lights during late-night shopping, and reasons to apply sparkly eyeliner beyond sitting down to watch Elf. This year, I can be picky. I can be selective. I can even allow a December day to pass when I don't watch TV at all. Can you imagine? But should I need an instant glow when I've no plans, energy, or inclination, I only need to revert to my emergency schedule. How marvellous it is to have choices.

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 22 November 2021

The Bowliest of Bowlcuts...


Nicky Bond: Star of unearthed
Australian cinefilm.
Good morning and welcome to your Monday morning round up of the week just gone. Spare a thought for Melbourne and its residents. They recently opened up after their latest lockdown - that's over 260 days of housebound restrictions this year. There's no point in mincing words, that must have been tough. But on the plus side, my Aussie cousin got around to digitising the family cinefilm! Every so often, amidst the shaky footage of a family do, I pop up! Yes! I've seen footage of myself as a toddler; of times I have only the scantest of memories, if any. Such a strange feeling to see unearthed action of my own life. I can confirm that at two years old I had the bowliest of bowlcuts, didn't crack a smile once, and was given a LOT of attention from whoever was in the vicinity. OH, HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED.

The first rule of writing
group is, there is no
 writing group.
Writing News 
I'm not starting my next book until after Christmas but I'm still going to my fortnightly writing group. It really is the best fun you can have on a Wednesday night in a Portuguese beer garden with a bunch of people you only met through your shared passion. Honest. As we pay a small fee to attend, minutes have to be taken. It's one of those situations where everyone avoids eye contact or states clearly that they did them last time, when it comes to picking who takes responsibility. But, more often than not, it's me. It's OK though. I quite like taking minutes, I can't lie. There's something reassuring about having a pen in my hand. It makes me less fidgety and I listen better. No, the real problem comes when it's time to write them up. Because these aren't normal minutes. Oh no, these are Writer's Group Minutes. That means they must be witty and perceptive, analytical and engaging. It's simply not enough to write who was there, who said what, and what time it ended. Oh how I miss the governing body meetings at my last job for their simplicity. (Spoiler alert: I'm being sarky. I do not miss them for one second.) Nothing less than brilliant will do. So when it comes to deciphering my scrawled notes the next day, it can be quite the pressure. However, the fact is, when you're not in the middle of a Work in Progress, having to creatively write the minutes of a meeting, can be just the thing you need to keep your hand in. So last week, that's what I did.

Culture
Spencer is currently on at the cinema and, in my opinion, it's a very good film. Not a 'curl up on the sofa with a bottle and wine and settle down with a good film,' kind of good film. Definitely not that. But an uneasy, unnerving, stressful watch that takes you right into the heart of the character. By seeing the world through Diana's eyes we're gradually made to feel constricted, isolated, managed, reduced, and abandoned too. Walking out of the cinema felt like a relief, which is not the insult it sounds like it might be. The film was excellent but I probably won't rush to rewatch it for a while. Meanwhile, on Strictly, Rose Ayling-Ellis did this* and it was amazing. 

Marzipan and icing to come, 
but what a beauty!
Food and Drink
Stop Press: I've made my Christmas cake. Thank you for the applause. No, please, take your seats, you're too kind. The random thing is, I hate Christmas cake. At least all the other Christmas cakes I've eaten. I used to like making it with my mum when I was a kid, but that was because I had a special cherry-related job. I was solely responsible for coating then in flour to stop them sinking. No, YOU'RE welcome. Anyway, between that and the possibility of shovelling in offcuts of marzipan, I would show up every year to assist in the creation of something I wasn't ultimately faffed with. But when I was thirty, Nigella and her Christmas book came into my life. Her riff on the recipe is really simple, and as I can attest, easily adaptable. I replace the currents and sultanas with some of the more acceptable dried fruits. Mostly cranberries, dates, and dried cherries. I also use whatever booze I have to hand. This year it was port instead of coffee liqueur. Anyway, you whack everything into a pan and simmer away before pouring the mixture into a baking tin. Supremely satisfying, easy peasy, and the whole house smells like Christmas. It also tastes fit. Win.

Out and About
Friday saw me catch up with a mate over an afternoon of beer, which always seems a good way to do it. On Wednesday I had a pedi, where I switched my usual uniform of black nail vanish for festive red sparkles, and on Tuesday I had my hair cut.** Apart from the excessive beer, my week was mostly spent grooming. Who am I? Lady Muck?

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Technically this was the week before but who cares, right?  So, so good.

** Just a trim on my layers. No return to the bowlhead of my toddler years. No Ma'am.

Monday, 15 November 2021

Cheese-Stuffed Tubes and Red Wine...

Shaking off the shackles of
pain and walking into the week
.  
All my muscles ache! Yes, take THAT, you update-hungry fiends. It's mostly confined to my lower back, my middle back, my upper back, my arse, my legs, my upper arms, and my shoulders. Oh, and the rest of my back. The reason? Crow-barring off my pesky desk from its super-duper nailed on position on the landing. My office space continues to be a work in progress. Even through there doesn't seem to be any. Progess, that is.

Worth your time.
Writing News
I've been feeling like a writer recently. The imposter syndrome's been calmer in recent weeks. This is, of course, due to a 'book what I wrote' being released and available in all good online bookshops. But there's more to it than that. An old friend had been in contact recently, asking some indie-publishing questions. She'd written a book and wanted a bit of info. Ten seconds later - once I'd passed on everything I know about publishing - I felt great. I was clever! I was wise! I was filled with nuggets of genius ready to impart to the world! It was a marvellous feeling and I enjoyed the legitimacy of it all. But then the real good news happened. My friend's ebook came out last week. It is spectacular. Check out Paradigm by S A Carmody. I read it in a night and only put it down when there was nothing left to read. I urge you to click the link and see for yourself.
Remember I told you about the horrific mix up at Christmas 2019? My lovely present of tickets for Adam Buxton in Liverpool, was due to to take place on the same night as 2020's Eurovision Song Contest. I might as well have thrown the tickets in the bin! Luckily I did not. And more luckily (cue insensitivity klaxon!) COVID came along and everything got rescheduled. Four times. I finally got to see the show last week. Adam Buxton and his bantz were fab. Tuesday night's not really my optimum time for an evening out, but I came away feeling all jolly and goodwill-filled. I'm now reading the book he was promoting - Ramble Book: Musings on Childhood, Friendship, Family, and 80s Culture* and thoroughly enjoying it.
 
In the end, I had to use big shells.
Can you even imagine?
Food and Drink
This weekend I was home alone so decided to make ricotta and spinach cannelloni. I've no idea why I needed an empty house for that, but I'd got it into my head I'd celebrate being an independent woman with cheese-stuffed tubes and red wine.** There are worse ways to do it. Anyway, it was a great plan until I discovered there's a national shortage of cannelloni tubes. When I say 'national shortage' I don't have the latest ONS figures, but I do know from (my own) anecdotal evidence that two Tescos, a Sainsburys, and a Marksies were unable to help. What - and I mean WHAT - is the world coming to?

Out and About
A friend's son was thirty this week and I was invited to his bash if I happened to be passing. That, and only that, is the reason I was on the top floor of a city centre club on Saturday night. It's been a while, kids. I can't lie.
 
Have a lovely week, folks.

*I realise my blog and Adam Buxton's book share a similar rambling title. Great minds think alike or both of us hungrily scraping the bottom of the barrel? Who's to say? I guess we're both in excellent company. 

**And garlic bread. Natch.

Monday, 8 November 2021

Nailed-on Desktop to Bannister Situation...

This is not quite the
 vibe I'm aiming for.
Welcome. I assume you've come for another Rambling update. Either that or Google's taken a turn you weren't expecting. Worry not! Click this link, buy my book, and then everything will make sense with the world. But back to business. We've arrived at that time of year again. Yes, the time of year when for reasons beyond my understanding, I've a sudden urge to refurb my home. Last October, the spare room got titivated beyond its wildest dreams, all based on a teal paint whim. This time, it's the turn of my 'office space'. Not a complete office as there's no walls or door, but is instead an area of the landing that my home's previous owners felt required a nailed-on desktop to bannister situation. This week I will be crowbarring off that desk top and replacing it with some lovely reclaimed wood on legs. 
Plus a new chair. It's all go here. Meanwhile, in other news...

I've got a semi-promotion on,
right here.
Writing News
I'm not going to lie, it's gone a bit quiet on the writing front. I suppose revamping the office space technically counts, as I'll be writing Book 4 from there. I'm still semi-promoting Assembling the Wingpeople, although once the publication week has passed, it's Old News. I know. Depressing, innit. But with Christmas on the horizon, I won't be starting anything new until January. That gives me time to sort the office as well as eat all the roast potatoes and cranberry sauce in the land. It's good to have goals.

The French Dispatch -
It's SOOO Wes Andersonny.
Culture
Fans of Wes Anderson will have already seen The French Dispatch by now. Non-fans won't have done, nor would they enjoy it if they did. That's my review and I'm sticking to it. (I liked it. I'm a long time fan, although nothing beats Moonrise Kingdom for me.) Beyond the cinema, I've been loving the start of the week's TV. Succession on Monday nights - which I've talked about at length before - and then Tuesday night on BBC2 when the latest series of American Crime Story airs. Remember the one they did about OJ Simpson's trial? This time it's Monica Lewinsky and the events of the nineties that made her a global name. The series is delicious. The casting, costumes, and attention to detail when recreating recent history, are all exquisite. It's also refreshing. It doesn't seek to judge or vilify the twenty-something intern that became famous for - at worst - being naive. It feels like a much fairer portrayal. One that the media of the time did not give her. The fact Lewinsky is a producer on the show should quell any fears it may sensationalise events or be voyeuristic. All in all, it's great, and takes you right back to the nineties. It's a hard recommend from me.

Food and Drink
Well now, where to begin. I've been trying to merge my recent non-meat consumption with the fact this weather demands stews and casseroles. Anything slow-cooked with gravy, basically. I've gone down the root veg route, which was fine but definitely lacked something. I've also tried the fake meat version, which was perfectly pleasant but still not amazing. I guess it's all an experiment. I want something that will pack the punch of six-hour cooked beef, but made from lentils, veg, and pulses. So yeah, this one might be beyond me. The good news is, however, I've realised that even when your meatless stew is missing some beefy depth, there's nothing nicer than baking cheese scones on top and letting them soak into the veggie gravy before serving. 

As the prophets foresaw...
Out and About
Staff shortages in the business where I'm usually a silent partner, mean I've been less silent this week. That's right, I've been delivering! It's always a lark trying to deliver a package to a house on the road Paul McCartney grew up. I battled through a coach load of tourists in a bid to unite a customer with their order. After a few days of that, I was knackered. I couldn't face being out and about any more so I spent the rest of the week slobbing on the couch. (When I wasn't on the landing being an office planner extraordinaire, that is.) I can also confirm, from my deliveries around South Liverpool, that I've seen one Christmas tree, and two fairy-lit window displays. Like the ancient legend says, 'holidays are coming, holidays are coming...'

Have a lovely week, folks.

Monday, 1 November 2021

Has Anyone Seen My Genre?...

Do you even need to?
I'm not a fan of labels. Not really. Why does everything have to be defined in specific terms? Can't we just go with the flow and accept people and things on their merits rather than their categorisation in the world? 

Don't worry. I'm not about to launch into a let's-all-love-each-other singalong. I get that real life isn't so fluid. And sometimes labels help. A longed-for medical diagnosis can lead to appropriate and effective treatment. Labels, classification, and identification can be useful. If I wasn't straightish, white, English and able-bodied, maybe I'd be proud of my protected characteristics and shout them from the rooftops. Maybe the labels that apply to my own life are just a bit mainstream and dull. Maybe I need to rewrite this entire paragraph and work out what my dislike of labels is really about. Because it doesn't bother me in the slightest when people identify with a specific demographic or apply labels to their own lives. I'm happy to stand alongside and be an ally to their experience. It's something else that's the problem.

ALL the genres!
Maybe the issue is actually a gripe I have with the publishing world. Rather than labels, perhaps it's genre. Yep, it's genre I have a problem with. It's when people ask what kind of books I write, and I struggle to answer, get tongue-tied, and eventually stammer out some nonsense. It's genre, not labels. That's my beef with the world. Hurrah! I've finally labelled it!

It's the first question anyone asks. Every single time. 'What kind of books do you write?' And it should be a simple answer, shouldn't it? No one knows my writing better than me, so it should be an easy peasy question to respond to. But it's always a problem. I know what kind of books I don't write. That's well clearer. I don't write Thrillers, or Romance, or Erotica, or Cosy Murders, or...wait for it... Chick Lit. 

Men, women, and dogs, enjoying 
literature together as they should.
Chick Lit is my pet peeve. It doesn't seem to be an official term used in publishing much these days, for which I'm grateful. The word chick, to describe any woman, makes my insides shrivel. And why - even if we re-label it as Women's Fiction - does it need to be gendered? (As many have said before, there's no such thing as Men's Fiction. It's just Fiction.) Why can't a story with a female protagonist be appealing to everyone. I've read plenty of male-character led stories and enjoyed them. There's no reason to limit your audience by deliberately directing a large chunk of it away from your book. The trouble is, a lot of people assume I write Chick Women's Fiction, purely on the basis of being a cis woman and not writing any other type of defined genre. But I don't do boy-meets-girl, happy-ever-after endings. I write from female and male perspectives and (hopefully) give agency and authenticity to both. I like tackling serious issues through the prism of humour, and don't see why that means only women can join in. But none of this is helping me find the correct genre. 

Usually, when it comes to categorising my books before publication (which you have to do and I wish you didn't) I go with Modern Fiction, Contemporary Fiction or - and it bugs me even though I still do it - Women's Fiction. (If you can't beat them, join them.) This past release I think I snuck Feminist Fiction in there too. But these are broad terms and only done to fill out a form. What genre does Nick Hornby write? Because I think that's my ball park. According to Amazon, he covers Love Sex and Marriage Humour, Humorous Fiction, and Literary Fiction. Ooh, the lofty heights of Literary Fiction! Maybe that's what I write? (Nope. Lolz. Of course it isn't. I'm Commercial Fiction all the way. No Booker Prize long lists are in my future, I'm certain of that.) However, this is hardly an exact science. His 2014 book, Funny Girl, is ranked under Women Writers and Fiction so there's a glitch in the system there. But this doesn't solve my problem. It still doesn't narrow down how to categorise what I write.

The views of people who've read Assembling the Wingpeople have given me some more insight. It's fascinating to see how others view it. If you have a gander at the Amazon reviews you'll seen some themes emerge. 
'Witty, dry, and at times quite touching.' 
'I thought it would be an enjoyable, heartwarming read, but it turned out to be so much more.'
'If you like character-driven books with humour and self-reflective vibes, this one is for you.'
'A witty feel-good novel'
'Witty and dryly funny... hilariously relatable'
OK, I'll stop quite blatantly licking my own arse here. It's really nice to read but it's also useful for future book preparation. I seem to write funny stuff. That's good. I think I aim to do that. But I aim to write about serious issues too. I hope I've managed that but it's definitely mentioned less. Hey ho. I also try to write about real life, so phrases like relatable and self-reflection tick a box for me. All good stuff. But still, none of this lends itself to a specific genre. Or does it?

Some uplifting literature
for you right here.
Because stop press. I've found a new genre! At least one I've only just read about. There's this thing called Uplit. That's Uplifting Literature to you and me. It was a month ago that I saw the term on Twitter, which led me down a couple of rabbit holes* as I found out as much as I could. But let's check the description before we get carried away. The quote below is taken from  Uplit (What It Is And How To Write It) by Amanda Davies.
'This form of writing is different to Romantic Comedy or Chick Lit books. Predominantly because the Uplit author is able to create believable storylines with strong recognisable characters. Characters with personality traits that appeal to both male and female readers.'

Ooohhhh. That sounds about right. I like it. But wait. There's more. Davies goes on to give a few more characteristics of Uplit Fiction.

'The protagonist doesn't have to be likeable; they can be unreliable, unusual or even unfriendly. They are generally vulnerable or troubled in someway, and throughout the narrative, their personality will be revealed as well as the obstacles that they have to overcome.'

'As the story moves forward, the author must create a strong emotive response, making their readers laugh, cry and cheer on the character/s. However, the story must be balanced. Too much negativity and readers get bored, too much sentimentality and the story becomes saccharine.'

'The ending does not have to be the happily ever after, though the main character needs to have overcome part if not all of their difficulties.'

It's all become clear. Uplifting Literature. Uplit. It makes so much sense. When I think back to the TV programmes I've devoured in the last few years, there's been a definite rise in feel-good, nice characters; doing their thing, making mistakes, but ultimately being OK. I'm thinking of Schitt's Creek and Ted Lasso, for example. Both stories that appeal to everyone, not just one end of the gender spectrum. Both make me laugh but make me think and feel too. Likewise, over the past five years, I've found myself moving away from the Jack Reacher style thrillers and the gritty realism of serial killers and embittered detectives. I want to be immersed in a world that's still realistic and relatable, but that's ultimately an enjoyable place to be. That's what I've been aiming for with my own writing, even though I hadn't realised. Even though I had no idea it had been formalised into a genre; into a label.

Even MORE uplifting
literature
. It's EVERYWHERE
.
So label me all you like. I'm fine with it. Whack a big Uplit sticker on my forehead and let me sing forth about the joys of finding my tribe. One day, when the real world has become dull and uneventful once again, perhaps I'll find myself writing gruesome murders or intense dramas. Until that day, I'll keep on with the witty, feel-good, and ultimately happier stuff. If that's OK with you, of course.

Have a lovely week, folks.