Archive for the ‘Summer’ Tag
(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)
Summer has reached the UK! Hooray! Long days and the occasional glimpse of sunshine, and I’ve even felt brave enough to put away the tights when wearing work skirts. Still plenty of rain, of course – this is England. But the alternative rainy days and sunny days seem to make the strawberry plants in our garden thrive. We’ve got more strawberries than we know what to do with right now.
Anyway, I digress. On with the news.
I am pleased to announce the imminent launch of the FORMER HEROES anthology, by Far Horizons Press. All of the stories in this anthology are by writers who are also live action roleplayers. It’s an eclectic mix, all dealing with characters who were once heroes. There’s some fantasy, some sci fi, some horror. My story, ‘The Unending Scream’, is most decidedly a horror story. Would it be anything else?
There’ll be an online launch on Facebook for FORMER HEROES, so you can join the party without leaving the comfort of your own home.
And, speaking of LARPERS (a bit of a reach, I know), we are still aiming for an Autumn release for THE WHISPERING DEATH. I hope to have more news about this soon.
Today I’m visiting Eric Price’s blog to talk about a subject common to all writers, both seasoned pros and newbies alike: Writer Insecurity.
WORK IN PROGRESS
SPOTLIGHT ON DEATH, the third Shara Summers book, progresses well. Most of my work on it is being done in Starbucks on Aldwych in London, early in the morning before going to work. Of late, though, I’ve had to sit in different spots, since my usual seat has been taken. I really hate that.
Well that’s all to report this month. See you next month!
(Cross-posted on the WriteClub blog)
Generally I don’t post when I’m stressed. When I’m stressed I get grumpy, and I don’t want my blog posts to turn into long whinges. However, I am doing so today for reasons I hope will become clear later.
I’ve had a couple of holidays this summer, which were not stressful in themselves, but coming back to work after time away always makes me regret going away in the first place – the work piles up when I’m gone, and suddenly there isn’t enough time to do everything.
I seem to have been struck by a series of ailments over the last few weeks – nothing serious or long lasting, but it has meant I’ve spent altogether too much time sitting in hospital waiting rooms.
We are in the process of buying and selling property, which is a long, drawn out and stressful process. I’m not going to say too much about this at this stage, because English property law being what it is, nothing is set before exchange, anything can go wrong – and frequently does – before that stage, and so it’s best not to assume it’s actually going to happen until the keys are in your hand. However, the process involves dealing with estate agents and solicitors, which is stressful enough without all the other stuff going on.
Most crucially, though, I am still wrestling with the WIP. I am mired in the “my writing is rubbish” stage, believing the whole thing needs dismantling and putting back together, and I am not sure where to start.
However, I am starting to think that life stress is connected to writing stress and vice versa. When the writing is going well I am in a much better frame of mind and can pretty much handle whatever life throws at me. When it’s not going well, suddenly all kinds of other hassle creeps in – notably, things that wouldn’t be bothering me quite so much if the writing was going well. I started today with an early morning writing session that didn’t go at all well – I spent much of that hour staring at the page thinking what I had written was complete rubbish. Hence, I didn’t have a good day at work, either. When I start the day with a good writing session, the day job is much easier to handle.
So the only stress in my life I should actually be focusing on is my troublesome WIP. If I can kick that into submission, everything else should be a breeze. Even the house move…
The weather here in Britain has been somewhat depressing the last few weeks. We’ve had rain, wind and grey clouds. Occasionally the rain stops, the clouds move and the sun peeps out for a few minutes, at which point you start to feel a bit hot in your rain coat and winter sweater. But then the clouds roll over again and another torrential downpour starts up. We occasionally have a few days of hot sun, but this is invariably followed by more rain.
To be honest, this is not unusual weather for the British summer. However, as all this has been going on my family in Canada have been grumbling about relentless 40c heat and no rainfall for weeks, and it has made me think about the diversity of this small blue planet of ours.
We’ve been to places like Borneo and Vietnam, where it’s incredibly hot and humid. When it rains, the rain literally comes down in sheets, but it’s so hot that when it stops the streets dry out in a matter of minutes.
We’ve also been to the Nasca desert in Peru, where it rains once every ten years or so. We’ve seen the Nasca mummies, which are the skeletonised remains of people who died hundreds of years ago, their bones bleached white by the sun, their hair and clothing and sometimes even traces of skin still preserved because there’s no moisture in the air to rot them away.
Right now there are places on the planet that are suffering terrible droughts, and other places where there are floods. More than half of our planet is covered in water, yet still there are places that don’t get enough water to sustain life.
So we might complain about the weather – and in Britain it’s a national pastime. But it does serve to remind us that nature is a far more powerful force than humanity is. No matter how technologically advanced we get, we can’t control the weather.
I have mentioned my dislike for all domestic chores. This includes gardening. I know plenty of people who find gardening therapeutic and pleasurable. I do not fall into this category.
For starters, I seem to be allergic to all plant life. Being around flowers or anything with spores just makes my nose run all the more. The other thing I dislike about gardening is, like other domestic chores, I find it dull and a waste of energy, and I would much rather spend my time doing something more interesting like writing or reading. Hubby is also averse to gardening, but I think his dislike stems from being made to mow his parents’ expansive lawn when he was a boy.
When we bought our house, we were careful to select one that didn’t have acres of greenery to look after. We have a small back yard that is paved over. Sadly, the weeds still seem to grow between the cracks of the flagstones. Short of someone inventing a substance to kill all plant life permanently, and thus ensuring no weeds will ever grow again (has someone invented such a substance? I suspect that it would also kill every living thing within a 5-mile radius, and hence impractical to market), we are obliged to occasionally go out into our yard with the garden shears and start hacking at anything green.
So this is what I had to spend my bank holiday afternoon doing, sniffling all the while because of my allergies. And trying to avoid touching any of the plants with my bare skin, because I get dermatitis on my hands that seems to be aggravated by plant life. I have no problem with allergies, on the whole, with chemical or synthetic substances. Just the natural ones. Sometimes I wonder if I’m some sort of techno-human, evolved to live in harmony with the industrial world rather than the natural one.
Still, today it seemed we won the battle with the weeds. And as summer is coming to an end, hopefully it will be another few months before we have to bring the artillery out again. So I can reward myself by holing myself up in my house, in front of my computer, out of reach of the nasty foliage. Hopefully it can’t get me in here.
The last Monday in August is a bank holiday in the UK. It’s also – very depressingly – the last bank holiday we get until Christmas (yes we are deprived of bank holidays here in England; let’s not go there).
Consequently, it’s the time a lot of people traditionally go away. The schools are still closed for the summer, and millions of Brits hold onto the last vestiges of Summer and escape either to Europe or other parts of Britain for some rest and relaxation.
Hubby and I tend not to go anywhere this time of year, however. We don’t have kids and neither of us are teachers so there’s no need to pay the inflated air prices of the peak season. Besides, when we do travel we go quite far afield, to places where the sun will still be shining in December.
At this time of year, I enjoy the quiet time. My train carriage is half empty; I can enjoy the luxury of an empty seat next to me to put my bag on, instead of having to stuff it under my seat to make room for a fellow passenger. There’s no queue in Starbucks when I get my morning coffee. There’s often even a seat on the Victoria Line train – shock, horror.
Next week things will be different. We launch into September and Summer will officially be over, school starts again, the train will be crowded and everything will be back to normal.
Today, though, on my daily commute I will enjoy while I can the luxury of a half-empty train carriage.
The Met Office appear to have backtracked on their original prediction (back in April, I believe) that the UK is in for a hot summer. They are now admitting they were wrong. It would appear that our two-week heat wave at the beginning of July was it, and we can now expect rain for the rest of the summer.
Well, if I have to keep the raincoat and umbrella handy for the next couple of months, so be it. We can’t control the weather. And this is the point, really. We’re a decade into the 21st century and we still don’t have the ability to predict the weather. I don’t think we ever will. No matter how technologically advanced the human race gets, we can’t control nature. As nature keeps reminding us. I still have the belief that one day, nature will get tired of our species and treat us the way we might swat a bothersome fly, erasing us from existence with some spectacular natural disaster.
So as we can’t beat nature we have to learn to co-exist with it, and that includes putting up with the rain. Well, at least there’ll be no water shortages this year.
It’s no longer hot, but it’s no longer raining, either.
I may be an anonymous commuter, but I still have a job, in a time when a lot of people no longer have theirs.
A place I often go to for lunch was serving my favourite soup – smokey bacon & lentil – today. So I had my lunch there, sitting by the window, watching all the people go by on Regent Street. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, and a small but welcome respite from work.
And it’s Friday. I can look forward to a glass of wine at home tonight, and a lie-in tomorrow.
I really have nothing to complain about. Life is good.
The heatwave is over, and the humidity broke yesterday with a truly spectacular rain storm. We’ve had a lot of rain the last couple of days and the temperature has been getting ever cooler. Yesterday I left work on time, aiming to catch the 5:30 train out of London Victoria station.
I came out of Victoria underground station at about twenty past five, at which point the rain had become a solid sheet of water falling from the sky. Water was also pouring in through various places in the roof of Victoria station in torrents, creating a series of indoor waterfalls. The floor was already covered in three inches of water, and it seems the rain had only just started to fall.
I picked my way across the soggy concourse with my umbrella, as all around me people scurried for shelter. I was genuinely worried, at one point, that the roof was going to collapse – the sound of the rain pounding on it was thunderous, and the amount of water pouring in through the ceiling was startling.
Fortunately, there was no water coming down by the train platforms. I got on my train, and by the time it pulled out of the station – on time – the rain had eased off dramatically.
I later found out that Victoria station was closed at 5:30pm because of the serious flooding, and everyone trying to get home after that point had major problems. I must have been on one of the last trains that left.
I must have been charmed last night. Not only did I get home without a problem, the rain had stopped by the time I got off the train at the other end. I didn’t even get all that wet. How fortuitous is that?
So London is sweltering in a heat wave – it’s been 31c for the last four days, and the temperature is forecast to rise ever higher for the rest of the week.
As a nation, it seems we Brits like nothing better than to complain about the weather. It’s too cold, it’s too wet, it’s too dry. Now, of course, everyone is saying it’s too hot.
The problem when it gets hot in Britain is not the heat but the humidity. We’re a small island, surrounded by water, and as it gets hot, it gets cloyingly, unbearably humid, until we have a thunderstorm to clear the air. It was hotter in Tanzania than it is here, but the atmosphere there is extremely dry and easier to deal with.
Personally I don’t mind the heat. I have more a problem with the cold. Of course, I am privileged enough to work in an air conditioned office, so being cool enough to concentrate on work is not really a problem. The underground, though, is not a pleasant place to be when it’s hot. Having your face shoved into someone’s armpit is not nice at the best of times – when that person’s all hot and sweaty, it’s even worse.
However, a hot summer was forecast, and as the last two summers have been dismal, weather-wise, I do think we should make the most of this weather while we can.
The more I travel, the more fascinated I become with the diversity and contrast of this small planet of ours. Our recent trip to Africa highlighted the difference in the number of hours of daylight depending on where you are on the planet.
Tanzania has consistent daylight hours all year round, because it is so close to the equator. The sun rises at 6:30am, and sets at 6:30pm. It also rises and sets very quickly, as we discovered as we rose early to dismantle our tent every morning – we would start in darkness and finish, a few minutes later, in daylight.
It was initially strange to come back to the UK, where we are currently in mid-summer and have long days. The sun sets gradually here, and at the moment it’s still light at 9:30pm. The sun’s up by 5:00am, a good hour before my alarm clock goes off.
I enjoy living so far north of the equator in the summer. We pay the price, of course, for our summer days in mid-winter, when we get about six hours of daylight every day.
For now, though, winter is far away. It’s June and it’s warm, and I am enjoying the seemingly endless days of summer.