|Okay – so what if I’m not a blonde – my hormones are blonde|
|Don’t lose your head for heights.|
I think the word ambiance is French. If it isn’t I claim it by its Gallic sounding-ness. Nowhere has more ambiance than Paris. In fact there is so much ambiance in Paris that the very word conjures up an existentialist smoke filled café on any pavement near you wherever you are.
Just the other day I was there seeing one of my progeny who is spending a year there. Could I be envious? Perish the thought!
I pointed my camera at a couple of tourist traps and found myself even more trapped in the essence of the place. Tourism makes the tangential view the only possible escape from la carte postale. The featured pix are from around le Sacré Coeur area of Paris. Trouble not, I’m not about to bore you with my montage.
I love short stories and the whole art of keeping things concise. Readers of my verbiage may be groaning in disbelief to know this!
Here is a short and very clever documentary film made in Paris by some fabulous young film makers. The words are French but the truth is universal. All I can say is that my own diet will start again on Tuesday. Maybe next week. Enjoy les religieuses.
Emma thinx: If all the world’s a stage, who wrote my bloody script?
Why blow your own trumpet if you can blow your own trombone? On Sunday I had the very chance to get up there and show the world my glissando. The clip shows me performing the Muppet Theme.
There are five stories included in this ‘boxed set’. The theme is that of life and love among folk at the poorer end of society. My impression has often been that working class life is less examined by fiction than higher income groups. The more beautiful and educated are more appealing. Suave heroes and elegant heroines tread the world in pursuit of high ambitions. All the while there’s a guy pushing a broom and a woman packing boxes in a warehouse. Sadly these days the term “working class” often means those with no work or those clinging to marginal insecure jobs. There are the illegal immigrants who pick fruit, prepare meat, prop up the sex industry and rinse the rice for our gourmet restaurant dinners.
In my life I have been drawn to these situations. Seeking to be a writer I have chosen not to have a career path but to work in food processing plants, warehouses and as a bus driver. There is passion, colour and humour in these places. These stories represent what I feel has been the best of my experience.
Here are just a couple of words about each title.
The Chosen – Two guys at the margins of society have very different ambitions. One is a cynical survivor. The other is a believer in the dream of wealth and success. They unite in a desperate throw of the dice. It’s about luck, winners and losers.
Escape To Love – A woman faces a future bringing up her handicapped child alone. In her past lies an abusive relationship from which she has escaped. When her child is rescued by a man on the run, she has the chance of a new life and love. Can she trust her own judgement? Could a new lover entirely trust her?
Angela – This is a true short story. What we believe in often affects what we see or how we interpret what we have experienced. A chauffeur encounters an enigmatic client at a point of indecision in his life.
Love In A Hopeless Place – A working class woman has settled into a resigned acceptance of the second half of her life. Suddenly she learns something about herself and of her true possibilities. Change can often engender passion and violenceA chance moment brings everything down around her and brings even further surprises.
The Love in a Hopeless Place Collection is available on Amazon Worldwide.
And of course, there is a competition. All you have to do is spot the differences…
1)How many differences are there between the first and second pictures?
2) Who is the elegant sophisticated glamour model posing in the third picture?
Enter your answers here to win your own copy of the collection and a customised iphone 5 case.
Hear some more tunes from the band as the ‘Blowing My Own Trombone Blog Tour Continues’….
|Novelist on location exposes her crutch|
If you poke my dear companion in literature, Oscar Sparrow, he will usually refer you to the Vagrancy Act of 1824. As a cop in modern London, this piece of legislation was never out of his tool box. So it was when he picked me up from the hospital following my leg operation. He immediately advised that the exposure of wounds with intent to obtain pity was an offence for which I could be arrested.
|The lovers cavort in this fine setting in my latest Romance|
Since absolutely nobody wants to know about surgical procedures, I have attacked my work. And what incredible fun I’ve had! I’ve been writing and researching. Yes, please note tax man, I’ve been out there sucking up the ambiance of all kinds of novelist stuff. Stately homes, country cottages and long haired cattle. Can a novelist claim for dung cleaning bills? Well, at least it prepared me for the one star Amazon review circus.
And now for a plug. Next week sees the release of my Love In A Hopeless Place collection. There are five stories. Many novels can come down to ten thousand words. Most of mine should have been reduced to zero. This collection is my last bow/curtsy/grovel at the shrine of brine. These are serious stories about the life I’ve lived and seen up close. It’s all a bit gritty but how joyfully that salt stings in the wound. I know it’s not real fiction mainstream/vampire/sado-masochistic/werewolf fashion photographer stuff – but I’ve done it now and I’m free.
Romance is a joy when you come up for air. I’ve been out there and at it. Do any of you fellow scribes need to go to locations to feel the heat? I sure do. That is why I’ve written so much real life contemporary stuff. How I admire folks who can “feel” English Regency minuet dancing and werewolf/vampire/alien identity angst.
Next up is the Blogger Book Fair. This is a five day event where all manner of authors advertise their art on each other’s blogs. There are prizes of all sizes. Fun and games and books books books. I will be hosting ten authors. Surprises are certain……
Emma Thinx: Fame – what the unloved call love.
All things evolve and change do they not? Gravity slowly exacts its revenge for my vanity and it looks as if my application to go weightless as an astronaut is in the cosmic slush pile. My personal evolution as a writer now reaches an interim full stop. I started a mere 35 years ago with the magazines, writing shorts about lurrv. (Some success). I wrote proper literary novels (SEVEN! – No success whatsoever). Whatever slush pile I was in, the spring melt swept me away in an avalanche of otherwise engaged agents, disappeared sub-editors and patronising posh publishers. In a moment of ironic renaissance I wrote “Knockout” as a kind of hybrid philosexophy novel. (Some success).
All the while I was doing what I think I was born to do – tough shorts about emotion in working class life. This is what I know. I won big lit cred prizes and drove a bus! A few days ago I reached the end of that road with the completion of “Love In A Hopeless Place”. This title will also serve as the overall name for a collection of five stories, all set in the same context.
This story is a 10,000 word first person account of a working class woman’s experience of self discovery. You can imagine if you read my blogs – there is sex in the mix and even joyously spilled over the edge of the bowl with a few fruity sultanas for texture. These are the opening words:
“You can’t blame the music for what happened. You can’t blame the budget brand vodka or the Walmart brand cola. You can’t blame anyone but me and the great gaping hole I used to know as ME.”
It is the most difficult thing I’ve ever tried to write. It is a totally true story – and they are the hardest.
Now, if any or all of you guys want an advanced review copy of this story please let me know. It’s not quite the usual menu so I’ll be pleased to get comments.
This story will be out on Kindle during the first week of June. In the mean time there is a lovely new Facebook page to visit…
Emma Thinx: Love is blind. Lust just has no sense.