Category Archives: Chrissie Bradshaw author

Fairy Tale of Newcastle

Have you heard of the Romantic Novelists Association? It’s a wonderful association for anyone who enjoys writing romance and ,this year, I am lucky enough to be one of their members under their new writers’ scheme.

This membership allows me and other unpublished authors who have joined the association to take part in all RNA activities and also submit a typescript of a full-length
novel for appraisal. I must send my novel in before September so I’m keeping
busy!

I’m so looking forward to going to the RNA annual conference next month. It’s
held at Harper Adams University over the weekend of the 13 th to 15 th July and
sounds like a writer’s dream. There will be a variety of workshops, lots of
book browsing, an awards dinner and, most important, the chance to meet up
with writing friends, twitter friends and authors I admire.

 

RNA conference 2014

I can also have a 121 meeting with an editor who will have read a chapter and
the synopsis of my novel. All great stuff! In fact there is only one thing that
is causing me distress. There’s a competition.

I hate competitions but if there is a competition and it involves writing, I
feel I should give it a go. If I do give it a go then I have to write up to
2000 words  to begin a novel that is based on a fairy tale. Oh yes! I can think of many fairy tales but I can’t think of one that I can write a novel about

Maleficent

I think that the very best story to come out of a fairy tale recently is the back story of Maleficent the evil fairy in Sleeping Beauty. Angelina Jolie played her character beautifully and her love story had me in tears.  The film transported me to another world and I recommend seeing it with or without a child in tow.

 

Sadly for me, that story been done so what else is there? I was thinking of ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’ as a theme but couldn’t get Lady GaGa’s real life outfits out of mind. Lady GG appearing on the red carpet and a lone child calling out ‘ She’s wearing the butchers shop!’


All of this musing about writing a modern day fairy tale is stopping me from finishing my novel and that is delaying me from living my real life fairy tale of being a published writer so I’m just going to have to stop.

First of all, I’ll just read one more tale. Maybe this new hen should look at the cockerel Chanticleer and his wife Partlet for inspiration. 2000 words shouldn’t take long…

Fairytales

 

What is right for writing?

Oh for a space to call my own, a place to create! Do you ever think this way?
There seems to be a spate of sheds popping up to give space and peace for creativity. Which model would you choose?

I’ve been thinking about space. Work space. I was the eldest of four and, as a teenager, I felt deprived. I shared a bedroom with a younger sister. I studied for A levels at the kitchen table with a three year old toddler sister at my heels and two middle siblings watching TV. I ‘looked after’ the younger three whilst studying and I did OK. 

As a student in a house of six, I could listen to loud music or block it out, join in and out of conversations and complete my assignments without the push of mum and dad because this was what I’d always done.

This ability to work anywhere stood me in good stead when I became headteacher of
an inner city school. I had a spacious office but kept the door open as I worked through a pile of local authority directives and bag load of national bureaucracy. Every day several  ‘selected students’ sat in my office or at a desk outside my door. These young people had been discarded for not fitting in and needed a respite from unfair or at-wits-end teachers or hostile peers before being returned to their class at the end of a session. I learnt a lot from chats with these students and I hope they felt their concerns were appreciated by me. They kept my answers and returns to the local authority and to the government real. I could never forget that I was paid to make a difference to these students.

I became a literacy consultant for my local authority so I must have been doing something right! I worked in an open plan office with chatter, debate and meetings galore. I sometimes worked outside of a school in my car to get something finished but generally I let the bustle of the office wash over me.

Now I’m freelance and
I have a spare room that has been turned into my office. Just mine. It houses my files, my office equipment, my bookcases and the door closes whenever I wish.

I thought I would love it: I hate it! I feel punished for going there. I go and collect what I need and take it to the kitchen table or the conservatory or to a coffee shop.

Lesson learnt.You can take noise and mayhem away but it might not be what you want! My office is like my wardrobe,it is handy for storing things but it is not a place to stay in for long.



That’s not my name!

old man's baccy

I hate to disagree with Will Shakespeare but, for me, a rose NEEDS to be called a rose to smell sweet. Bladderwort just wouldn’t do it. When I was young, we used to find Yarrow, a pretty hedgerow flower and pick bouquets. It was called ‘old man’s baccy’ in our neck of the woods and our mother wouldn’t have it in the house. There might have been room for a vase of yarrow.

The gift of a bunch of piss-the- beds, which were meant to have a diuretic effect, didn’t get over the threshold either.  Dandelion,from the French ‘dent de lion’ meaning lion’s tooth, sounds much more attractive and refers to the jagged leaves of the plant. However, the French do also use the name ‘pissenlit’ because of its diuretic effects.

I rest my case; plant names are important and I want roses, with their lovely name, for a sweet smelling gift.

But what about kids? Surely our offsprings’ names are much more important to us?  Nowadays parents are playing about with them almost recklessly. There should be ground rules don’t you think?

Of her own name, Peaches Geldof said:
“Mine has haunted me all of my life, and will continue to do so. I am named, as you may have noticed, after a fruit. I’m not Jane or Sarah or Samantha: I am Peaches. This doesn’t make sense to me at all. (My dad told me it was because he and my mum were on a Tennessee Williams trip at the time.) Then again, I was going to be called Angel Delight at one point, so I suppose I can count myself lucky.”

I’ve got one or two personal no-no-please-nos when it comes to names. Shoot me down if you disagree!

  • No fruit – Apples, Mango or Melons won’t do.
  • No telesco pic names from the parents -Chrisbert, Tomelia or Gilliam don’t hold up.
  • Nothing reminiscent of hard materials unless they’re jewels – Woody, Pebbles, Sandy , Clint, Cliff aren’t good but Emerald, Amber and Pearl are fine.
  • Nothing with an X – they never sound like that anyway.
  • Nothing Irish or Welsh unless you ARE Irish or welsh. Try pronouncing Siobhan , Niamh, Sinead , Tegid, Iolo or Myfanwy or spelling them correctly.
  • No places with conception connotations – Paris, Valetta,Toyota, Africa, Whitley Bay.
  • No baby names like Dolly, Angel, Princess –  these are names that will not last until school age. Don’t inflict them on children – keep them for small cuddly beings . Here is Angel my cat who will remain angelic and cuddly so fits this name perfectly.

 

The trouble is that people rarely admit that they dont like a name. I have a set baby name responses. Otis? -interesting! Xanadu how cute! Chicago? Great town to be named after!We must consider that Chintzia, Muconium, Millennia, Zirconia and Sambucca may lose their sparkle but a Rose or a Jasmine will always be sweet!

I’m all for keeping creativity for my character’s monikers in novels. They are fully grown and can live up to their name. The main protagonist in my current writing is Cleo – I know she is wilful , beautiful, a tad selfish, and has the strong features and glossy dark hair of a Cleopatra. This is a name for a grown up and only the brave would dare choose it for a 7 lb baby girl.

I’ve listed groundrules, but always believed that rules are meant to be broken and let me be the first to say that my family’s most recent generation has a fine variety of rule-breaking names that work absolutely beautifully.
Xenia -perfect for a delightful girl.
Arlie – unusual and just fitting for a handsome boy.
We are waiting to discover what the brother or sister of Jas ( Jasmine ) and Missy (Marissa) will be called. Read this column next September.

In which a hero comes to my rescue

I wanted a sundrenched stroll. I got a drenched Sunday stroll. It was quite a day and Oscar almost drowned.

Oscar and I were walking on the beach with my friend and her lab,Ruby before lunch and the beach was really busy. Ruby the lab had stolen a couple of footballs from groups of kids playing there and was a bit skittish ( Oscar was being really good, truly!) anyway, Angela suggested that we walk around the old outdoor swimming pool as it was deserted at that end and we took the dogs along.

The pool runs alongside the beach and the sea at the other side of the pool is deep when the tide is medium to high but the barrier is waist height with railings after that so it seems safe and I wasn’t worried about Oscar, who hates water anyway.

After a couple of minutes of walking along and watching the dogs race around the inner well where the pool had been, I couldn’t see him and thought he must have hightailed it back onto the beach. I called him and a man from high up on the top prom called back, ‘Your dog’s gone into the water!’

I just couldn’t believe it and ran to look over the high wall where he was pointing to see a drop of at least 10 foot and deep choppy sea water ( there are rip tide signs around this bit of the beach) I verged on hysterics because I couldn’t see Oscar. The man called out,

‘He’s scrabbling to try to get back up the wall!’ But Oscar was so far below I couldn’t see him.

We all sprinted back to the beach and I waded in to waist height then it fell away to rocks and deeper. The lovely man had run down to us and came into the sea too. He had the foresight to remove his jacket( I was just in there coat and all) and he told me to stay there and he’d swim around to find him. I was frantic in case he’d drowned and frantic in case he barky faced the swimmer away or bit him in fear when he got to him.

After a lifetime, the man swam back with Oscar under his arm and I gave them both the biggest hug! Our hero just shook off the water and picked up his coat and went back to his friends soaking wet!

We walked the 1/2 mile back to our car with me shivering with cold and shock but so glad for that man being so brave (foolhardy?!) Oscar has been the most subdued I’ve seen him but that just means he’s lain about and slept – his appetite is as usual so he mustn’t have swallowed sea water.

I now know what it is to have flashbacks. What if he hadn’t seen it? I’d never have dreamt he was over the side and would have gone along the beach looking. Would I have been able to swim the 50 metres around to the far side of the pool? Never! I can’t work out how he got over a waist high wall but he must’ve taken a running jump and then never expected the drop or the sea!

I’m looking at him now and loving him so much, that dog! I could have been grieving.

Here is a pic of the old outdoor pool from archives when the tide is low. He went over at the far corner and the tide was high.

Do You Heart or Hide Mid February?

Valentine’s Day is the retailers’ Post Christmas money maker. It’s their chance to raise prices sky high after the January sales and they do this with gusto!

I’m a romantic and love a grand gesture but seeing the price of flowers, cuddly toys and special Valentine menus makes me feel like hiding and giving the 14th a miss or at least being more creative about how to celebrate.

Being a savvy shopper, I purchased this ‘pug of love’ on the 15th. Oscar doesn’t mind, he’s a dog!

I wondered how new this commercial high of February originated and discovered that it is actually quite ancient and may have been started by Geoffrey Chaucer in 1375. When he wrote of courtly love in ‘Parliament of Foules’ I’m sure he couldn’t envisage ‘fools’ paying £5 or more for a single rose!

Chaucer’s poem refers to February 14 as the day birds (and humans) come together to find a mate.
“For this was sent on Seynt Valentyne’s day
Whan every foul cometh ther to choose his mate,”

St Valentine is the patron saint of not only lovers but beekeepers too. It seems to me that it is not the beekeepers that get ‘stung’ on his special day but enamoured lovers who want to shower their sweethearts with tokens of their affection and find prices are hiked up!

Are you thinking I should be more altruistic and let the retailers have their day? After all Mother’s Day, the replacement of Mothering Sunday, is a month away. Now don’t get me started on that!

Happy Shoe Year!

Do you still make a New Year’s resolution? I can’t resist but I don’t try to make impossible resolutions any more. No more of the ‘ I won’t eat chocolate’ or ‘ I’ll go to the gym three times a week’ variety. I’ve prided myself on making a more thoughtful and sensible sort of resolution for 2014. A resolution that will make my bank balance and the fledgling bunion on my left foot very happy.

‘ I won’t choose shoes that I love when I know they are going to hurt me.’

It is actually a revamped resolution from younger years. Used annually, with the word boys (then men) in place of shoes, that sound advice from self never lasted long. In 2014,with shoes in mind, it seems clear to me that I’ve found a winning resolution!

I’m especially proud of passing Fail Friday without a painful purchase hidden in my hide-in-here-until-Chrissie-shrinks cupboard. Last week, as I hung a new rather lovely size-too-small-but-ok-if-it’s-left-unbuttoned jacket in there, I smugly thought at least it’s not a torturous shoe. Am I stronger than your average resolver or have I found the perfect resolution?

According to a recent survey of 750 people who said they would be making resolutions this year and had made them in the past, the average length of time a person can expect to keep to their promise is around three and a half weeks. January 24th is when resolve melts away like Christmas snow. Not me! With Fail Friday safely under my belt, I’m sure I can confidently skip through the rest of the year footed or booted with comfortable choices like a spring lamb or, being born under Capricorn, a plodding winter goat.

What’s more, I’ve found the shoes I absolutely need this week and they are not heels, not platforms, not wedges but flats! Imagine the perfect pair of loafers for spring made in soft leather in shades of caramel and cream, with two eyelets and leather laces and a comfortable leather insole.( Not to worry if you can’t imagine them, I’ve pasted a pic top left.) I love them and they’re in my size but I’m having a dilemma. Right foot says ‘yea!’ Left foot with bunionette says ‘Ouch! No good!’ Head says ‘Resolution?’ and Heart cries ‘Mine!’

Now haven’t we all had shoes that need a bit of wearing in? I’m sure that once the leather softens, the left shoe will be fine. I’ve searched on the internet and found that I can buy a leather stretcher and softener spray so ….. I’m keeping them. I reckon that I’ve only broken my resolution if they still hurt by spring so I’m ready to do battle to get that left foot to fit.

Well, at least it’s not a man that needs fixing!

Ouchtober 2013

We had a relaxing month in France. Lots of books, delicious food, wine flowing and good friends visiting. It was a much needed rest but not conducive to hiding away and finishing the novel. Now that we are back, I could write all day about how Oscar enjoyed our travels, where we went and what we saw but, I’m not writing a travel book and I really must stop procrastinating!

It’s Ouchtober because I’m kicking myself into action. I WANT to finish the novel yet I’m easily distracted and sidetracked. Writing needs self-discipline and focus and this procrastinator is going to have to knuckle down and get on with it.

This blog also needs time on it because my photos have disappeared but I’m going to stop playing and log off to get down to my main writing and I may be sometime.

September at last!

Hi Everyone
No posting for a while because lots of things have been going on in all aspects of my life and I just haven’t wanted to blog until I felt more upbeat.

I have tried reflexology, Pilates, extra vitamins and minerals and cortisone injections. This combination seemed to work on everything but my hands. I have had carpal tunnel in both hands and this makes the fingers go numb after a long session of typing – very frustrating!

In July, I had a very successful op on my right hand so, hopefully, I can get up to full speed with on my laptop.

September is going to be a great month for writing and relaxing in France. I’ll be there with my husband and our dog,Oscar.

I’ll also have time to delete all of the junk comments that keep invading this blog and my email! Why do people send goobledegook and take up time? I hate spam!

The Pink Bucket

I was lucky enough to be reunited with three old friends this week. We went to college together and it has been many years since we all got together for a day or two. We travelled by planes and trains to meet up in Edinburgh and the biting wind accompanied by icy showers couldn’t stop our fun, though it did ruin our hair! My souvenir of this trip is a new brolly from Jenners, the lovely traditional department store in the city. But, I digress. I must tell you about the pink bucket.

Over dinner and a glass of wine, the conversation flowed and eventually turned to recycling and waste. Yes, really! It then moved to dog waste in particular and its poor recyclability. Yes, really!

That is when one of the party owned up to having scooped her pup’s poops into a pink bucket that was hidden at the bottom of the garden. Her problem was that the bucket was full to the brim and she knew that dog waste was toxic to gardens so she didn’t know what to do with it.
A dilemma indeed! The pink bucket was just lingering at the bottom of the garden and she wasn’t sure what would be going on under its lid.
‘ How long has it been there?’
‘Since the dog was a pup.’
‘How old is the dog.’
‘ 12’
‘ 12 months?’
‘ 12 years’
‘Right!’
Gales of laughter. So it wasn’t a new problem.

‘It has been a worry because what can I do with it now?’ She asked.

Well, we all had several suggestions for removing the toxic waste. The most popular solution was to deliver it to The Tate Modern as an exhibit. BUT, we still hadn’t solved how to move the toxic bucket.

What this got me thinking about was how we all have ‘ pink bucket’ syndrome at some time. We have problems that have lurked around us for ages without being dealt with. Niggles that we haven’t got round to sorting out. They may be mental or physical but they are there in the background. They may be solvable or they may not but sharing with a friend or three and thinking about ways forward makes them less forbidding and can even show us the humorous side of a dilemma.

Any bids for the pink bucket will be discreetly passed on.

Meeting deadlines

Throughout my career I have had to meet deadlines. I can’t ever remember missing a deadline but I can’t ever recall meeting a deadline with days to spare. If you’re like me, you’ll know that last minute is not fun! It awakens the adrenalin and the creative juices flow but it also means the rest of life goes on hold, sleep has to wait in the wings until the writing stops and, worst of all, I often feel that if only I’d had more time … well if I’d had more time it would’ve been better, more polished and just perfect wouldn’t it?

Well would it? I think that, without a deadline, I’ve been writing my novel for far too long. The parts of my novel that I’ve gone back and changed time and time again don’t read any better than the parts that I’ve edited and then left alone. I’ve come to the conclusion that we can polish our own work only so much and then it needs a fresh pair of eyes to read it and comment and give us a more objective opinion.

With that new thought in mind, I have decided that I’m giving myself a deadline of finishing this novel by the end of July and letting fresh eyes read it. I can already predict that the last week of July will consist of takeaways, an overflowing washing basket, no social life and little sleep but it will be worth it to be done with the MS. I know it will not ready for publication but, it will be ready to be aired and reviewed. Scary!

What am I scared of? I’ve shared my writing on a daily basis all of my working life and yet I’m keeping this novel to myself and the main point of writing is to share with others. I think it is the thought of sharing something that is so important to me. It is the fact that it is fiction that has come from me, not a factual or opinion piece. I’m going to have to dig up some bravery and persuade my sensitive side to come out of hiding.

A deadline I DID make this month was my ‘one man show’ publication. ‘The Old Edwardian’ is the newsletter for old boys and girls of my secondary school that I was persuaded to edit a few issues ago. In spite of many requests for news or articles, it is all written by Chrissie the editor with a few suggestions from the committee. I now understand why the last editor jumped ship! I can’t say I love doing it, but it does exercise my writing and publishing skills and it is something that gets read by a large readership ( or gets thrown into the recycling after a swift glance at the headlines and pics).I also do it because I love all the folk on the Old Eds’ committee and wouldn’t want to let them down. They’ll be part of a novel of mine one day because they’re a diverse, weird and wonderful bunch.

I’m feeling happy because now I’ve met another deadline of writing at least one blog a month- and it is only 18th!. I feel a halo glowing as I type the last full stop.