Chocolate Warblings

A while ago I promised you a hot chocolate recipe – and so far, although I’ve drunk mugs of the stuff myself, I’ve failed to deliver...

Addicted to chocolate...

Now while I realise its summer for many of you (yes, including those in grey, damp England…), here’s Absolute Vanilla’s Hot Chocolate …

1 very heaped teaspoon of good quality cocoa
10 – 20 g of dark chocolate - I use Lindt 70% - broken into tiny pieces (the amount you use is entirely dependent on how indulgent you feel)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tiny pinch of sea salt (there is something about salt that enriches the chocolatiness of chocolate…)
1 mug of milk, rice milk or lactose free milk (I don’t recommend soya milk!)
Sugar to taste, it’s up to you how rich and sweet you like your hot choc.

Put everything into a small pot, whisk well and heat on a medium to high heat for about 5 ½ minutes – but do not allow to boil. Give another good whisk and pour into your favourite mug. Sit down and slurp away.
If you wanted to get fancy, you could add a dash of cinnamon or even a tiny pinch of chili, or alternately a dollop of cream or some marshmallows.

Meanwhile, I once more unashamedly acknowledge being a lousy blogger – but the energies, as you well know, are all directed elsewhere at present. The rewrite is complete and has had its first edit – I’m in the throes of working on the synopsis. I’ve also rewritten the prologue and first chapter of the other manuscript and at the moment, I have a short story that is insistent on spewing itself out. It happens like this. I get hijacked by words. And I’m thinking that I should perhaps start submitting one or two shorts somewhere.

In other news – bear with me, I’m playing catch up here, I had a text/sms from Angela. She is unemployed and the friend (who runs the employment agency for "disadvantaged" people) who had said she would help to find Angela a job, hasn’t done so. The friend and I are “no speak” at present, after I phoned up to find out how things were going and was roundly reprimanded for “interfering”. Hmm, well my view is this: when you raise people’s expectations you take on a load of responsibility. You can’t then turn around and say, “I never made any promises”. You just can’t play with people’s lives like that. Angela, loathe though she is to do so, may well have to go back to the dreadful Pecksniff for work. If any of you have any bright suggestions as to how one might help her in these dire recessionary times – and when xenophobia is raising its stinking head again, then I’d love to hear from you. We’ve offered to buy her and the baby a ticket back to Zimbabwe, because things are starting to improve there, but she doesn’t want to go.

And then talking of things recessionary and dire – I spotted this in today’s press – and it does nothing to fill me with any degree of hope or joy about South Africa's future. The pot, I fear, is simmering and it’s only a matter of time before it boils over.

Rewriting...

So, at last, the first huge rewrite of my YA manuscript is done. Whew. What I ride! And yes it did involve sweat and tears but fortunately no blood – well, at least not mine.

Several months ago I sent the manuscript (MS) which had gone through several fairly major edits and has been a work in progress for a about three years, to the Cornerstones writing agency for an in-depth review. I’d had pretty good feedback from writing partners and friends but I knew the MS still needed work and I needed the right input to do that work.

What I wasn’t remotely prepared for were the 18 pages of criticism that came back – criticism that initially left me gutted and thoroughly daunted - and chucking not a few hissy fits. But I’d asked for the criticism and I’d paid some serious dosh for it, so it was in my best interests to take it on board. Let it not be said that being a writer doesn’t involve a pragmatic approach and a thick skin.

I sat with the criticism for a couple of months, letting it stew in my mind, wondering how the hell I was ever going to make the MS right – and eventually decided that instead of trying to “fix it”, I’d hold the original story in my mind and start from scratch.

In many ways it’s been like writing a new novel. I've done mountains of new research and the plot has been considerably revised – as was required. The narrative voice has changed substantially, as was required. The writing is tighter than before and I’ve addressed issues of repetition, too much introspection, clichés, telling not showing – and, I’ve killed about 36 000 words. Yep, the new version is much, much leaner.

The curious thing is that I’ve always said I hate editing and rewriting, but this was a blast – a process, which, although I found difficult at times, I knew was critical to my journey of becoming a better writer. Let it not be said that this business doesn’t involve some really hard work and lots of learning. To anyone who thinks they can “just” write a book – think again, very, very carefully – especially in today’s competitive and depressed market. It takes, I’m sure, more than just a little bit of madness to be a writer. I consider myself a case in point…

In the process of this rewrite though, I think the thing that delighted me the most was realizing just how passionate I am about writing. Like most writers, I guess, I have my up days and my down days but I find when I’m in the flow of a story, gripped by words, I soar. Actually, to be honest, I am away with the fairies and get totally blissed out. Ha, who needs sex and drugs and rock ‘n roll when you get such a high from scribbling. We won’t talk about the down days, ‘cos they’re just too miserable for words.

A new experience for me in the process of the rewrite was something I’ve often read about - the quest for the perfect word, the perfect sentence. It made me wonder, as I grappled in the search for the right strong nouns and strong verbs how on earth German writers, with their limited vocabulary, manage! Sheesh, am I glad to be writing in English!

Funny thing is, now that the first big rewrite is finished, how totally flat I feel. Postnatal syndrome of some sort, I suspect...

But what next? Well, I’ll leave the manuscript for a week or so and then I’ll go back and do a thorough edit, picking up any gremlins that may still be in there based on the initial feedback about my writing style. And then it will probably go back to Cornerstones for further input.
I'm also off to a writing conference in the UK in November and will be taking part in both a critique session with fellow writers and have signed up for a review with either an agent or an editor. And after that, well, we'll see.

Meanwhile, I’ve got another manuscript that needs a rewrite, a book cover to design for a competition, a synopsis and a blurb to write.

So yeah, more busy, which means continued erratic blogging! But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!

In Times of Drought - a short story

The Drakenstein mountains

I can't say I much liked my entry in the Clarity of the Night competition, so keeping the competition's prompt, a glass of red wine, in mind, I thought I'd try it again, but a little less restricted by the 250 word count. I also thought I'd try something I don't usually do - set the story within my own environment.

In Times of Drought

Obsidian clouds rolled over the granite teeth of the Drakenstein peaks. Below the mountains the air brooded, pregnant with expectation. Rain spat on the earth in drops the size of quail eggs. The earth savoured each sip.
Andre Van Vuuren peered from the window of the farmhouse, swirled the wine in his glass lifting it to his nose to drink in the berried aroma. It had been a good vintage. The farm had profited well from the cultivar.
The room brightened as lightning sabers flashed between the clouds. Andre counted, waiting for the distant drum-roll of thunder to echo between the peaks.
He turned from the window and gazed at the room. Bereft of the history of his forefathers, its skeletal form clung to him. Generations of antiquities sold for whatever old Du Plessis down at the auction house could get for them. His eyes shimmered as he remembered his great-grandmother’s camphorwood kist. It had been a wedding gift to her from her grandmother, crafted by Jacobus de Wet soon after he’d arrived from Holland. He wondered who loved it now.
He pushed open the back door, letting the fly screen rattle back against the frame.
Wagter looked up at him, thumped his tail twice on the red-washed concrete of the stoep.
“Ja, old friend,” murmured Andre, bending to pat the dog’s grizzled head.
Together they sniffed the air. The rain was up there, somewhere in those grumbling clouds, but would it bless the land with its tears?
For ten years the clouds had taunted him, making promises they never kept. Rain would splatter to the earth and he would hold his breath – only to feel disappointment seep through his bones.
Why should this year be any different?
Andre stared across the golden gravel of the road to his vineyards.
The vines withered as he watched them, clinging to their supports with gnarled fingers. Soldiers on the cross, dying of thirst.
The phone trilled in his pocket. He glanced at the number and sighed.
“Hello,” he said.
“Andre, it’s Pieter. Listen, man, I’m really sorry but…”
“Ja, I know…”
He’d been expecting the call for months. It was only his friendship with his bank manager that had delayed the inevitable.
“I’m sorry, man, really I am. Come in tomorrow, we can talk about your options.”
“Ja, sure.”
He dropped the phone into his pocket.
Options. A small flat on the edge of town.
He walked back into the house as the thunder crashed above him.
Words from the old anthem echoed in his head… over our everlasting mountains where the echoing crags resound… They were words that now lay buried deep within the new anthem.
He picked up his wine glass, slung the gun over his shoulder and crossing the rose garden, walked into his vineyards. The soil, once sated with the sweat of his forefathers, clutched at his boots.
Earth to earth, he thought to himself.
He let the wine slide down his throat, relishing its chocolate and berry flavour.

The shot rang across the valley as the heavens opened and wept upon the earth, melding its moisture with scatttered drops of Pinot Noir - and the warmth of Andre Van Vuuren's blood.

Still Scribbling

Okay, so still scribbling but also sneezing - hacking, sniffing and coughing. Of course, all of which makes for being a Bad Blogger. (A pretty bad Tweeter too - not that I have ever managed to "get" Twitter in the first place. At least I'm holding my own on Facebook - so if you want to know what I'm thinking, best you friend me...)

Given all that, it's a wonder that I actually managed to scribble something for the Clarity of the Night flash fiction competition - see post below. It's handy when short stories come to you in your sleep though. There are some great stories in the competition this year and if you've got a few free spare minutes - yes, yes, I know, who has these days - do go and take a peek. If you want to have a read of mine, it's here - called Truth and Justice. And it's not too late to enter, though you'd better scribble pretty fast as the competition ends today. Go on, whatcha waiting for, ya know ya wanna...

Oh, and this is my new writing companion...

Popping in for a nut...

See you soon (just don't ask me when)!

SSSSH!!!! (writer at work - and a contest)

scribble, scribble, scribble, tappity, tappity, tappity, tap=tap-tap...

SSSSSSH!!! Writer at work...

I'm in the throes of furious writing again - and oh, it feels so good! I feel like I come home to myself when I write, when the words flow and the story takes shape. I am so keen to get this current manuscript finished (ie totally rewritten from scratch) and make it the best I can and then get back to another manuscript that's in the queue waiting for a rewrite.

I guess what I'm trying to say, amongst other things, is that there is going to be a whole lot of Blogging Interruptus going on. Bear with me if you will.

And while you're doing that, perhaps you might like to have a go at a bit of writing yourself.

Jason Evans, over at Clarity of the Night, is once again hosting one of his blog short story contests. The competition opens tomorrow and the subject, based on the image below is In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine).

Why not join in; it's fun, you get to read some brilliant flash fiction and meet a whole lot of new people.



The blurb for the competition which you will find on the Clarity of the Night blog is as follows:

This spring, Jaye Wells released her kick-butt novel RED-HEADED STEPCHILD. Her debut. It was a wonderful moment for a hard-working writer and a great blog friend. (Go Jaye!)

RED-HEADED STEPCHILD had a birth of sorts back in August 2006 during the "Lonely Moon" contest here at The Clarity of Night. Jaye penned an honored entry called "I Can Dig It," which introduced the world to a rockin' female vampire/assassin burying her latest handiwork. That character is the beloved Sabina Kane now taking names and dishing punishment in her on-going series. Today, Jaye is returning to The Clarity of Night to inspire YOU, the next debut novelist who will ignite the world. Welcome to the "In Vino Veritas (Truth in Wine)" Short Fiction Contest in honor of Jaye and all of her accomplishments!! (Can I get an OH-YEAH?!!!) Please join me in welcoming her as co-host and in offering well-earned congratulations.

THE CONTEST WILL OPEN ON WEDNESDAY, JULY 8, 2009.

Now, down to business. Here's how the contest works. Using the photograph above for inspiration, compose a short fiction (or poetry) piece of no more than 250 words in any genre or style. After the contest opens, send your entry to me by email at jevanswriter at yahoo dot com before 11:00 p.m., Wednesday, July 15th (Eastern Time, United States). I'd prefer attachments formatted in Microsoft Word or Word Perfect (please see the format request below), but if you have something more exotic, you can paste the text into the body of an email. Each entry will be posted and indexed.

Now for the goodies. The following prizes are up for grabs:

• 1st Place: $50 Amazon gift certificate and a signed copy of RED-HEADED STEPHCHILD
  
• 2nd Place: $30 Amazon gift certificate
  
• 3rd Place: $25 Amazon gift certificate
  
• 4th Place: $20 Amazon gift certificate
  
• 5th Place: $15 Amazon gift certificate
  
• Readers' Choice Award 1st Place: $30 Amazon Gift certificate and a signed copy of RED-HEADED STEPCHILD

But this is about more than prizes. I hope you take advantage of the opportunity to meet and interact with your fellow writers. Our different perspectives, styles, and skills shine when we all start at the same place. It's a great opportunity to learn from each other.

Rules:

1. 250 words maximum.
   
2. Titles are optional, but encouraged. Titles do not count toward your word count.
   
3. One entry per person.
   
4. Any genre or style is welcome. If you choose to submit poetry, you must have narrative movement within the poem if you wish to compete with the prose pieces for the prizes.
   
5. The copyright remains with you, the author; however, you grant me worldwide first electronic publishing rights to post your entry on this blog indefinitely.
   
6. Judging will be conducted by me, Jason Evans. For an explanation of the judging criteria and scoring system, see A Note on Judging. You can also read the winning entries from past contests. Judging will also be conducted by Jaye Wells as co-host. (See below.)
   
7. Please provide a name for your byline. If you have a website or a blog, I'd be happy to link your site to your byline. If you don't have a website or blog, feel free to include a short bio. A bio does not count towards your word count.
   
8. At the close of the contest, I will give the date and time for the announcement of winners.
   
9. After the winners are announced, I will post what I liked most about each entry in the comments.
   
10. The Readers' Choice Award is awarded by vote of the contest participants. The entry with the highest number of votes wins. The rules for this portion of the contest will be posted after the entry period closes.
    
11. Public critiques in comments are encouraged, but must remain respectful. I reserve the right to delete comments and ban participants who do not abide by the collegial spirit of Clarity of Night contests.
    
12. For prior contests and their results, see the links on the sidebar.

Format Request:
These are not rules, and I will not reject an entry which does not conform, but if you follow them, my work in running the contest is much less. For that, I will be eternally grateful!

1. Single space lines, and double space paragraph breaks.
   
2. No tabs or indents for new paragraphs.
   
3. If you have italics in your text, please code it for html by putting a begin italics code <> where it starts and an end italics code < /i > where it ends.
   
4. Although it's rarely used, handle bold <>< /b > and underline <>< /u > the same way.
   
5. Write your title at the top of the document left justified in title case (first letters capitalized). On the next line write your byline left justified (example, by Jason Evans). Add two blank lines, then begin your story.

Hyde Park Moments

The last iris

I think we've had more than enough words for a while, so I thought I'd share with you some more shots from my recent and disastrous trip to the UK.

It was our last day, I was feeling as sick as the proverbial parrot and all I wanted was space, calm, peace and green. I will confess that I found this particular time in London, flu notwithstanding, rather a stressful business. I think the current doom and gloom over politics and the economy is intensely pervasive in the city and there was a sense of dis-ease, confusion, frustration and resentment that pervaded the place in a way that I've never felt before. My own inclination was to escape and Hyde Park was just around the corner from the hotel. It was a little green lung, a haven in the midst of the other madness.

A green oasis

The Green Man was afoot...

A Narnia lamp post... a portal to other worlds?

Magic moments....

Park greens

Sunbathers (personally I'm not convinced the sun was actually out...)

Park lovers...

The house in the park

Down at the water

And was it all for the birds - perhaps so, perhaps not...

Golden reflections

Beady eyes...
- golden eye duck -

A certain softness of light
- a greylag goose -

Mallard rainbow

A goose's greens
- canada goose -

The Chaser!

"Rsssp!" I say, "Rsssp to you!"

Mallard reflections

Beauty is a red-crested pochard

And what have you got for me?

Bottoms up!

I couldn't help but be reminded, as I snapped away, of the Duck's Ditty from Wind in the Willows...

All along the backwater, Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling, Up tails all!
Ducks' tails, drakes' tails, Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight, Busy in the river!
Slushy green undergrowth, Where the roach swim—
Here we keep our larder, Cool and full and dim.
Everyone for what he likes! We like to be
Heads down, tails up, Dabbling free!
High in the blue above, Swifts whirl and call—
We are down a-dabbling, Up tails all!