Home from home

Back to Portugal

I absolutely love travelling. I don't know what it is. Just being somewhere different, away from the mundaneness of your everyday life is so exciting! (Not that my life is necessarily boring, but you know what I mean). I am back in Portugal today. I am staying in my great Aunt's villa which we have done for several years. It is really nice out in Portugal - very hot and relaxing. 

After a 2 and a half hour flight yesterday, my Sister, my Mum and I arrived at Faro airport. Even though it was near 8 o'clock at night, the humidity hit me straight away. I definitely wasn't going to be wearing the leather jacket I was wearing back home.  

I got a lot of writing done out here last year and so, I think it's a great place for me to carry on with a story I have been working on. Apart from the seagulls flying in from the nearby sea and, of course, my sister, its very quiet out here and perfect for somewhere to get into the writing zone (which is something I sometimes find hard to do).

I find it impossible to go on holiday without a book in my luggage (it just wouldn't be right without one). For this trip I have brought 'Everneath' by Brodi Ashton with me. I had recently wrote a flash fiction story based on the story of Hades and Persephone in Greek Mythology, a story that I love, so I am excited to see what the author has done with that in her novel. I spent most of the afternoon with this book in my hand and my sister banging on at me to get in the pool with her.

Today something in me called for a milkshake. It happens to me a lot when I go on holiday (I never usually would at home - I prefer smoothies and things). But when I go away, I just love having them. My holiday would definitely not be the same without them. My sister decided to have a chocolate filled crepe, with ice cream and chocolate sauce which looked so yummy (I haven't ate chocolate in almost two years, but I was very tempted to break that today!) When you're on holiday, you just feel like you should have high calorie, sweet, sugary things - well I do; This is probably why we put on so much weight on holiday hehe!

We went to a nice little restaurant by the sea (hence why it sold mainly fish). A smiley Portuguese man showed us a platter of fish - the smell was vile.  I had a mixed salad which was really nice, while the light from a nearby lighthouse circled over our heads. Beside the restaurant was a pretty shop that ironically sold mainly lighthouses.



I really do enjoy it here in Portugal. The solitude and tranquillity is its best feature. But, also, the fact I am tanning quite nicely helps too :)

YA Novels: A distorted idea of romance?

Do YA novels give a distorted idea of romance?

It is not just romance novels that include a love story, a lot of the young adult novels I read have a central plot focusing on the romance of the hero and the heroin. Well, actually, in most novels - be it in the main plot or the sub plot - there is a romantic thread within the novel.

In the Divergent series there is the romantic subplot of Tris and Four, in the Hush Hush series there is the romance of Nora and Patch and in If I stay, Mia and Adam. There also appears to be many love triangles in fiction - who does the young, beautiful girl choose between? For example, in Twilight, Bella has two love interests in Edward and Jacob, while Katniss in The Hunger Games has Peeta and Gale and Clary in The Mortal Instruments series has Jace and Simon.

 

  

More often than not, the girl has to make the decision - which a lot of the time means life or death, choosing between good or evil, someone who is safe and someone who is dangerous. Yet, I sometimes feel that these novels give a somewhat distorted idea of what romance is. Going back to fairy tales (that my English teacher used to love banging on about at school!), it always seems to be about beautiful people finding love, the quest for romance. The girl is always the one who needs saving, who is vulnerable. A lot of young girls will grow up thinking that they are going to find their Edward or their Patch (I for one was one of them), but in 'reality' this is not going to be the case.

And they lived happily ever after...

I feel that these novels are becoming predictable, even in Pride and Prejudice, the two most perfectly flawed people end up together. I know that a lot more current, realism novels are becoming more 'realistic' in their approaches to love in romance. I don't know whether this makes me a feminist or not. Well, I guess I am a girl, so I kind of am supposed to be a feminist.

Novels like The Fault in Our Stars, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Wuthering Heights even, give a better idea of what 'love' is and how sometimes it doesn't always end perfectly. I'll be the first one to admit that I am a fatalist and believe that everything happens for a reason. If its meant to be, it will be, right? But a lot of young girls are going to be disappointed with their reality as compared to what they read in books, or see in films and on the television.

I feel its important as a writer, to deal with the 'trueness' (definitely not a word - but I think you get it) of what the world is and what love is actually like. I was reading a blog post the other day (I can't remember who by) who talked about how sex is used as a way of proving love in novels and kind of fixing the blips in a romance, as shown in If I Stay. This gives the wrong impression of what sex is, for both young girls and boys.

Of course, I love the romance in novels and a lot of them wouldn't be the same without them. I just sometimes would prefer if they weren't so predictable and 'perfect'. I feel that writers should reverse the stereotypes and tackle the reality of life as a young adult. Life is far from perfect.

What do you think about romance in YA novels, and which would you recommend to prove that not all these novels show distorted ideas of romance?

Small steps. Setting goals.

I am sitting in the garden, with an empty plate and glass from my dinner poised on the table and one of the biggest books I have ever seen eying me. The day is starting to ease off and every so often there is a chill that makes me hug my bare arms. This is my favourite place to be, I think. I always remember hating being outside as a child. The wasps would ring in my ears, the sun sting my eyes, my nose running because of the pollen-polluted gardens. But now, none of that seems to bother me. I just enjoy how peaceful it is.

I am staring at the endless pages that the book holds and thinking to myself: how has Donna Tartt managed to write this much? 771 pages! It is amazing how dedicated someone must be to their story that they can keep on writing and writing. I wouldn't usually read something this long - not because I feel I'd get bored - but because of the commitment you have, for however long it takes for you to read it, to spend in that world when you could have gone to many other worlds in that time.

'The Goldfinch' (2013) is the novel that I am referring to. I don't know why I was drawn to reading this book. Maybe the title? Maybe the cover? Most probably the fact that it is a bildungsroman style novel. I've wrote before about my love for these novels - 'The Catcher in the Rye', 'The Kite Runner', 'Jane Eyre', 'Spies'. I enjoy seeing characters grow I think. You can really relate to all of the characters in these novels, where other genres of novels fail at this sometimes.

From the blurb it says that the novel is about a boy, Theo Decker, the son of a devoted mother and absent father. His life is torn apart by an accident in a museum (the part I have got to - this is only 30 pages in!), killing his mother. Theo is taken in by a wealthy family friend and the only reminder of his mother is a small, captivating painting of a goldfinch. Growing up, Theo is drawn into the criminal underworld, alienated and in love. I have a hunch that this is going to be a very consuming novel which is important considering its length.

 

While I started to crack on with the book, my mind trailed off to how I need to become more dedicated. I mean, I've always thought of myself as a self-motivated person. Even at school, I would make sure I got all my work in on time and I spent hours of my free-time teaching myself languages and learning new things. (I've never had much of a social life.) But, reading this, I feel I need to become even more motivated.

I was reading a blog post earlier this week. Someone set a goal to plan their novel in a week. I thought, that doesn't sound too difficult. I could do that. Only, I know I'm going to find excuses not to do it. This isn't because I don't want to start my story, as in fact, that's the part I want to get to. I hate the planning stage. I want to dive straight into it, but I know it's not going to be as good then. The characters are going to be flat strangers and the plot will seem disjointed. When I used to do essays, I'd go straight into it with a vague idea of what was going to happen in each paragraph. Old habits, I suppose.

But now, on my calendar, I have deadlines. This is not for everyone. It is certainly not for me. It's just, I'm pretty sure it's the only way I am ever going to get anything finished. By next Monday, I am hoping to have the plan of my novel finished. Then I will start my first few paragraphs when I am in Portugal next week (yay!) Well, that is the plan anyway. I am praying that this will help me get started with the novel I've had lodged in my head for months.

It is different planning a short story - it doesn't have to be as thorough which is why I find them easier to write. With a novel, the characters have to be real, your best friends. They need deadlines. Hmm. 'Deadlines' does sound quite official and intimidating. Dead-lines. I will call them goals instead. These goals don't have to be anything too daunting. Just goals that mean progress.

It is my ideal goal to write a novel by the end of the year and sitting here, gawping at Donna Tartt's brick of a book, makes me want to get on with it!

Do you have any goals related to writing or otherwise? Feel free to comment if so.

My biggest fan

My Grandparents have come down for the weekend. It is nice to see them – it has been months. The distance between Kent and Lincolnshire means that we see each other only a few times a year, so I make the most of it. You have to, I suppose.

It is funny how much déjà vu I get whenever I see them. They always look the same. My Grandad, shuffling his suitcase along, his head hanging, shaking, fussing over which way the exit out of the train station is. While, my Grandma scurries along behind him and spotting me waving at the other side of the platform, waves back. 

My Grandma has always been very supportive of me. She is an avid reader herself, making sure to read one book every week. One of the first things she asked me when she arrived was if I had written anything for her. 

The last time I went to visit my Grandparents, I’d given her a printed out copy of a short story I’d written. I was proud of that, and I think she enjoyed it, although I did get a letter through from her with all the grammatical corrections I needed to alter. Nevertheless, she filed it away and says she is going to keep all of the stories I write – she will always get the first copy. 

In a previous post, I said how I had started a short story from an exercise I read in a book. I have finished that story, and so, that’s another one for my Grandma’s collection. I know you are supposed to write for yourself, but always in the back of my mind, I am praying that she enjoys it. 

Earlier today, my Grandma was speaking about her favourite books. One she had been reading, she clearly had enjoyed. She doesn’t read the kind of books I necessarily do, but it’s still interesting to hear what she, as a reader, is into. As she spoke about how she could not bear to put one of these books down, it made me realise that, no matter what a book is about, if it doesn’t grab you – the reader is not going to want to read on. I understand this completely. These are the kinds of books people want to read.

As an ardent reader myself, sometimes no matter how well the novel is written - if there is no suspense or mystery, it is unlikely that it is going to maintain my interest. Whenever I write, I find it’s easier to go straight into the action. Start off right then and there. You don’t want to give too much away immediately, but you want the reader to know enough that they’ll want to read on.

My Grandma said that she’d started another book and because it was completely different to the one she couldn’t put down previously, she simply discarded the new one. My Mum then commented that countless times she’d started reading something and put it down because she ‘knew’ she wouldn’t be able to get into it. 

This made me reason, that people like what they like. People will read the same kinds of novels, even though they are very similar, because that is what they are into. For me this is fantasy fiction, for others it could be romance or sci-fi. 

My sister stayed in her bedroom most of the evening, but I stayed downstairs with my Grandparents (not that I’m trying to sound like the favourite Grandchild or anything). I picked up ‘if i stay’ by Gayle Forman from the library earlier and I was trying not to get distracted by it while they were here. 

I can’t say it has impressed me too much from reading the first so-many pages, but I can tell its gripping enough for me to read on. It goes pretty much straight into the action – an ordinary event of a family going out to play in the snow while the school is closed, to something more out of the ordinary; a car crash. It is no ‘Pride and Prejudice’, but seems like a sweet romantic novel.

After having to suffer fish and chips as demanded requested by my Grandparents – since what is a Friday without fish and chips (ridiculous, British traditions!) – and watching a film, I am looking forward to simply lying in bed and reading my book. 

I thought I’d write about a few segments of my day in this post, but if you enjoyed it feel free to comment and follow :)

Flash fiction: Back to you and I

 Today I have been reading a novel that needs reviewing and working on a little bit of flash fiction. I think it's more like a poem than flash fiction if I'm honest though. 

Back to you and I…

What have I done to you? My cheeks are wet from the tears.  

The hands circle clockwise, but my mind circles back.  

Back to the vacant look in your emerald eyes, the left one fearful, ashamed.  

Back to the blood staining your pale skin; endless, endless cuts.  

Back to your body flying in the wind with the glass, like dandelions; those friendly creatures speckling the sky.  

Back to my foot pounding the brakes, too late; your scream, piercing the screen and my heart.  

Back to the words, so simple, so deathly; then heaven.  

Back to the laughter, my heart pumping, preparing; your smile and dimples unfaltering.  

Back to your hand on my neck, the tingling touches and goose bumps.  

Back to you and I.

Let me know what you think in the comments :)