Yesterday I experienced my first authorship rejection. It also marked the first time that a group of people didn’t consider my work to be truly, fabulously, awesome. Weirdos.
The piece was short, a 500 word review which described a recent experience I had at a local restaurant. After working through a few drafts, I finally submitted the piece to the web content editor and moved on to the next mini-saga that is my life. In truth the post was quickly forgotten because a) I spew out a lot of waffle articles and b) like all my work it was a mini masterpiece, something that children will look at in the years to come and think “wow, Swindon really had some rubbish eateries in 2017”.
And therein lies why my article was rejected. The email that I had expected to contain a link to my work contained instead a put down. The web content editor had made the decision not to publish my review due to the tongue-in-cheek negativity portrayed in the copy. I forced myself to read the email again to be certain that I’d read the electronic text correctly. Realising that my article had indeed been rejected I shoved my laptop under the bed and grumbled into a cup of tea. You know, the kind of response mature people adopt.
A couple of hours later, after a sufficient amount of tea and biscuits had been consumed, I calmly reread the short email again. This time I was able to gain some reassurance at least that the quality of my writing wasn’t to blame. Essentially I had been rejected for not pampering to a catering outlet which, in my mind, didn’t quite reach the mark on the night I visited. I still stand by my views and remain of a firm opinion that any venue, author or artist should be open to both positive and negative criticism. I know that my reader base would quickly bore of my writing or disbelieve its authenticity if everything I wrote was a falsehood of how wonderfully magical everything is underneath our blue skies. Free speech and my own personal sanity is dependent on balance.
Like hitting writer’s block and slowly improving my work over time, I don’t view this rejection as a bad experience but a new one. I now know that that whilst this particular outlet has no qualms with the quality of my work, they only want to hear good news stories, not controversial. I wish they’d told me that before but at least I understand the lay of the land. What can I say? Haters gonna hate…negative writing. Besides, they’re not paying me anyway.
On the flipside, the other news outlet I freelance for love balance and spicy writing so they have happily published my work (huzzah!) You can check out the rejected review here:
One classic novel, five modern minutes to write up its review…
Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy is a novel which depicts the relaxed pace of life in the countryside of 19th century England. It essentially tells the tale of three men from different backgrounds fighting for the love of one woman. You come to dislike them all to more or lesser degrees. Bathsheba (yes, that is her name) is a character with little warmth to her personality and, like all urban dwellers of the period, treats her rural tenants like dirt on her shoe. There’s Gabriel Oak, a hapless shepherd which following disaster finds himself working for the rich and snobbish Bathsheba. To say Oak is obsessed with Bathsheba would be a vast understatement. It’s no plot spoiler to say he proposes to Bathsheba and gets turned down within the first couple of chapters (keen much?). Then you’ve got the more maturely aged farmer Boldwood who, after receiving a wicked joke Valentine’s card, becomes infatuated with our female lead. Finally there’s Sergeant Troy, a passing army figure and notorious womaniser. Guess which one Bathsheba takes a shine to?
People often get doe eyed with the English rural landscapes depicted in this novel, but I don’t see it. To me this novel depicted country folk as a backwards breed who spend all their time rambling on and on about nothing at all. One of the few times I felt sympathy for Oak was when he was trying to get urgent help but had to contend with a bunch of idiotic drunkards in a pub. Who is going to give you money for booze if your mistress is dead Mr. Poorgrass, WHO?
Like a lot of literature from this period of writing, footnotes take dominance across most pages and the copy had religious and general ‘thing’ references which I imagine very few people would be able to understand two centuries later. I started off trying to read all the footnotes but quickly gave up when I found I was spending more time reading footnotes than I was when I was at university. Unfortunately it meant that supposedly hilarious jokes and witty comments made absolutely no sense.
If you’re a fan of Austen you’ll like this but Stephen King obsessives keep well away.
Alongside news outlet The Swindonian, I’ve started doing freelance work for the ‘what’s on’ website Total Swindon too. Check out my recent review on Swindon based restaurant, 20 at The Kings, here:
Ergh, do I have to spend five minutes on this? Ok, fine.
The Food of Love by Anthony Capella is a rom-com novel, based in and around the streets of Rome, Italy. The plot follows the story of two Italian men who work in the restaurant industry, as they fight for the love of one woman (what’s new there?) The more attractive of the two, self-styled player Tommaso, woos the fair American student, Laura, first by convincing her of his extraordinary culinary skills. The catch? He cannot cook to save his life. However his roommate, the less attractive and uncharismatic chef Bruno, can. Secondary catch, he too is in love with Laura (dun, dun, duuun). So instead of confessing his love what does he do? He helps his player friend by teaching him culinary skills to charm the fair lady, thus becoming the ultimate wing man/gooseberry. Unsurprisingly as the lie gets bigger so too does the (supposedly) hilarious consequences.
As my sister noted when I told her the synopsis, The Food of Love story is basically an Italian version of the Disney film Ratatouille. If you liked that story, but wanted something with more sex, swearing and over sexualisation of mushrooms then you’ll probably enjoy this. *
I should have known that this book would not be an Austen or Orwell when I picked it up in a charity shop for 50p (on sale). At the time I needed a light read as a rest bite from more serious subject matter. No guesses for where my copy will be swiftly going back to in the next week.
*FYI rats and bestiality do not feature in this novel, at least the author didn’t stoop to that level.
Click below to read the controversial article that has sparked comments such as “Born and Bred Here. Even I say the Town is Crap”, “It’s like Syria with 99p shops” and, my favourite, “This is a poorly written article with a plethora of spelling errors”.
Five little minutes, one little book. This one should be easy…
Five Go on a Strategy Away Day (hereafter “Five Go…“) by Bruno Vincent is a short story based on the original Famous Five classics written by Enid Blyton in the 1940s/50s. At only 105 pages long, Five Go… is a quick book to pick up and complete in one sitting. As a slightly slower reader I was able to read this title cover to cover during my train commute (and that’s with two train changes in between). Perfect if you want something to easily tackle in one go, less of an interest if you’re looking for a more long term investment that you’ll come back to time and time again.
The story follows Julian, Dick, George, Anne and Timmy the dog as they tackle the nightmares of a poorly managed team away day. As I read this there were certainly some laugh out loud moments. More than anything because, as someone who has previously had to help organise team building days on a budget, I can heavily relate to some of the scenarios contained in these pages (Eg, “I’ve got 485 unread emails back at the office, so why am I here?” [sic]).
Five Go… isn’t a book to go for if you’re looking for value for money, no doubt my copy will stay on the shelf for a number of months before it gets relegated to a charity shop (as per the millions of other copies in circulation around the country), however it was a nice little pick up to cheer me up and take my mind off work and world issues, even if for just an hour or two.
The Garden in the Clouds by Antony Woodward is an autobiographical novel depicting the author’s move from London to the Welsh borders. Woodward’s narration of events takes the reader down the rocky journey he personally experienced in his attempts to get his five-acre plot into the famous National Gardens Scheme (alias ‘the Yellow Book’).
Whilst this book is humorous and light hearted, you get a strong feeling of the inner frustration, difficultly and financial resources ploughed into what I personally thought was a rather unattractive house and garden to start with. I felt the author’s London background resulted in a writing style that overly romanticised country life to a point where it sounded like all rural folk are cheery, friendly people, happy to assist with demolished walls caused by clumsy urban folk wanting a taste of ‘the good life’. I’ll save you the trouble of finding out for yourself, we’re not.
This was a nice little read when sat in the bleakness of January, but I wouldn’t view TheGarden in the Clouds as a particularly inspiring tale. It paints a sickly, unrealistic, image of rural life that has not existed for fifty years. Woodward’s need to become ‘at one’ with the landscape seemed so stereotypical you’d think he’d Googled ‘country life’ and adopted all the hobbies that came up on the listing. The National Garden’s Scheme, using a vintage tractor to make hay, keeping bees, in fact all that was missing was sheep farming (unfortunately his neighbour beat him to that one). If I was him I’d have saved myself the time, money and stress and bought myself somewhere in the South of France.
Five minutes to write a review on a recent read. Here we go:
Empire of The Sun by JG Ballard is a semi-autobiographical novel set in Shanghai (China) during the Japanese occupation of the 1940s.
The novel and centres itself Jim, a young boy born and raised in the Western ex-pat district of the city. Setting the scene on the eve of the Pearl Harbour bombings, what follows is a dramatic series of events resulting in Jim’s separation from his family and the experiences faced by the pre-teen as he fends for himself in Shanghai and in a series of labour camps. Despite all the horrors unfurling around him, Jim maintains an eerie calmness throughout, which is perhaps more disturbing at points than the war crimes themselves. The bright light of an atomic bomb takes the plot down a somewhat more dystopian route as the Japanese soldiers flee and the Western survivors and Chinese communists fight over what little remains. Ultimately Jim comes out of the War alive but a markedly changed person from the little boy we’re introduced to at the start.
Ballard’s novel is by no means an easy read. As the plot progressed I found myself increasingly frustrated by Jim’s naivety towards the growingly desperate situation, especially when it opened him up for other prisoners to take advantage. I am prepared to accept though that if I was a 11 year old in a work camp I might have adopted a similar coping mechanism. Regardless of this Empire of The Sun paints a fair reflection of the often overlooked period of Japanese occupation in China and the work camps. When so much has been written about World War Two in the West it was refreshing to read something with an Eastern focus.
Crikey is it that time of year again? Can it really be New Year’s Eve? With a backdrop of Homes Under the Hammer you wouldn’t think it. But then India is off at one of her multiple New Year’s Eve gatherings and Jools Holland has a prime time slot on the BBC, so it must be.
It feels the world is a very much different place compared to this time last year (back in 2015). The world lost many great people including stars from music, television, film and the literary world. Just when it felt like we couldn’t lose anymore another one dropped down, taking the world by surprise and reasserting in the minds and Facebook statuses of millions that 2016 was one of the bleakest years in celebrity culture. Mind, according to a recent BBC report, the number of celebrity deaths in 2016 reached 32, whereas in 2015 there were 29 so perhaps not as extreme as we all think. Sorry to be a buzz kill on this, but with an ageing generation of celebrities and drug culture 2017 could easily match or surpass 2016 in respect of notable deaths.
There was also a lot of political upheaval around the world. Brexit, Trump, Syria to name but three. Alongside this there have been (what feels like) countless bombings and acts of terrorism around the world, all of which bringing trauma and misery to one extent or another. There was also the announcement that Toblerone’s were changing their shape. That scandalous story almost brought Britain to its knees I’m telling you. Do I honestly think the world and chocolate industry will see sense in 2017? Pfft, of course not!
Moving on to personal developments then. At the end of 2016 I can still lay claim to two parents, two cats and a sister. I still live in Swindon at 10 Starfish Road with four other housemates including that famous mermaid. Company I work for remains unchanged. Swindon 18-30 Professionals continues to go from strength to strength with ever increasing members and a new sponsor. Local coffee business Baila Coffee and Vinyl join our two pre existing sponsors, Baker Street Wine Bar and Club and The Royal Oak Gin and Oyster Bar. In addition, we also welcomed a new event organiser to the leadership team, taking number to four. Stratford and Evesham Social diversified by widening itself to include those aged in their 20s and 40s, and also welcomed a new event organiser, taking leadership team to three. The group is still searching for a sponsor but membership growth continues to steadily grow as word of mouth and online postings help to spread the word.
I suppose the real big, very much change to my lifestyle, news is that I’ve started seeing someone (alias ‘the tall, bearded, Scotsman’). This is admittedly new and exciting stuff. He gets me roses and stuff, spoils me rotten, cooks amazing food (protein deficiency is no longer a problem in my diet!) and makes me smile.
In terms of New Year resolutions from 2016, results have been pretty hit and miss. (Resolutions in black, updates in red):
Personal goals (in no particular order)
Write 100 blog posts (this post is my 35th) – Achieved! This is my 206th post (thanks chiefly to Nablopomo for upping the post numbers).
Learn how to apply make up without stabbing myself in the eye. Achieved! After a few mistakes, including the application of mascara to my arm, I finally got the hang of eye make up.
Learn how to look good in make up (“Alice, is that a black eye?” “It’s eyeshadow.” “Practising for Halloween?” “Err, yeah, sure.”) – Debateable success. Work in progress.
Get Swindon 18-30 Professionals up to 350 members (ambitious, we’re currently at 240) – Ambitious? As of 31st December 2016 membership stands at 455. Achieved and succeeded.
Get North Cotswold Young Professionals up off the ground – Work in progress. The group operates well, but needs an additional event organiser to get group fully self running.
Stop wallowing in self pity and actually grow my nails – Failed.
Write/make headway on getting a book written – Writing on a completely different book is underway.
Get more sleep – Limited success.
Attempt Spanish in some shape or form – Utter failure.
Keep up the hard work and stick with the gym – Achieved!
Mama/Papa Bennett’s goals for me (FYI – these are not confirmed)
Get a boyfriend – Achieved!
Preferably rich – Mind your own business.
And attractive – Achieved!
Who also has a liking for sailing (for common interest) and football (because papa Bennett has been wanting to get into it for years). – Never sailed and, owing to Scottish heritage, not a big football obsessive. Not that I mind in the slightest.
And takes a keen interest in TV shows such as Coast and period dramas. Failed, but then he is of the male variety.
India’s goals for me (again, TBC)
Stop being always right – Failed
Stop batting younger sisters with pillows – Failed
Stop forcing younger sisters to wear silly hats in public places – Failed
Accept that this run isn’t appropriate or normal:
– Failed
And understand that certain older sisters will never become professional Strictly dancers while they call this “dancing”:
– Failed
So overall some big successes and achievements and some missed targets. Also some goals made which I didn’t even set for myself, notably organising my first ever formal Summer Ball in August. An event that may have pushed me right to the very edge but in the end was one of my greatest achievements in recent years. I also have other things going on in the pipeline which at this time would take too long to go into detail over.
New Year’s Resolution 2017:
Don’t Jeff it all up
(Oh and grow my nails. Like, actually grow them.)
All in all, this year has been pretty decent for me. As I said this time last year:
Here’s hoping that next year will be more fabulous and amazing than 2015. I really have my fingers and toes crossed that it will be. I know I’ve sad it 15 odd times before, but I have a feeling 2016 is going to be a good year.
My Housemate's a Mermaid 