Sunday, 22 February 2015

Goodbye my beloved Grampa...

Dear Grampa
My Mum called me this morning.  All she said was, 'I'm in Wales...' and I just knew. I knew you had left us.

A coal miner, you had black lung, and had been having problems breathing. I'm so glad you weren't in hospital when you closed your eyes for the last time. I'm so glad you were at home. For me, it will always be the warmest, most welcoming home in Wales. I picture you in the armchair near the fire, having an och (kip) and Gramma  on the sofa opposite watching The Voice (Come on the girl from Cwmparc!).

Ninety one years young and dancing two nights a week until a few years ago. Any music would get you and Gramma dancing around the living room. I can hear you laugh now.  A whisky in your hand.  

As I sit here, I'm overwhelmed with grief. Think of the good memories, people say. I only have good memories and they are making me cry; I wanted to go on making more.  

I know  I'm so lucky to have had you as my Grampa. Everyone who knew you is already missing you. You were always so kind and generous. My Mum once told me how she had called you from London when she was young and homesick, and you had just got in the car and driven all the way to bring her home. It was no trouble. You would always go out of your way to help people.

I loved the way you would sneak twenty pound notes in our hands and say, don't tell your grandmother! As if she didn't know.  As if she hadn't just snuck a twenty pound note in our hands a minute earlier!

Grampa, you are Christmas; top of the table and never too serious to wear a paper crown. You are holidays in Spain; sitting in a fold up chair by the river. You are walks up the Bwlch leading us to the winberries for Gramma's pie.   

Oh Grampa, if you could see the tissues surrounding my lap top right now, you'd probably tell me not to be so twp! You would want all the family to get together and celebrate you... and we will. It's just going to hurt for a while. But that's because you were so loved.

I love you Grampa and hope you are at peace,

Your granddaughter


Emily 


Thursday, 19 February 2015

Reader Spotlight - A book lover from California


One of the best things about being a writer is hearing from readers around the world. A few weeks ago I was thrilled to get an email from a reader from California. She had read the online version of The Temp (aka Spray Painted Bananas) and was after the new paperback copy. 

Thankfully she was not put off by the £7.00 postage fee and off the book went to America. I invited Caitlyn to the blog to share her love of books and offer her recommendations... 

What's your name and where are you from? 

My name is Caitlyn (Caitie) Towne and I am from Sacramento, California, though I am currently residing in San Diego while I attend university. 

I've got one day in your neck of the woods, what should I do with it? 

If in Sacramento, I'd say to head downtown and visit K Street and Old Sacramento. As for San Diego, I'd send you to Pacific Beach and Balboa Park. Both places have cute little shops and eateries, and fun places to explore. 

What's your ideal setting for a good read?

To go all out, I picture myself curled up on a couch with hot cocoa someplace snowy, using natural light and the fireplace to read by. I'm also perfectly content snuggling up in bed with my iBooks on night-mode. 

Kindle, paperback or hard back? 

I love a good hardcover, but I find myself using iBooks more and more: It's nice to always have a selection of books in my pocket for a long walk to class or a bus ride to the mall. If I really enjoy a book, or I think I will, I occasionally go for a physical copy. 

What's the last book that made you cry? 

If I Stay by Gayle Forman. There were just some moments that I felt picked at pieces of my own life and really stood out to me. 

And made you laugh? 

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. The plights of an introverted book lover in college as a plot sequence is quite relevant. 

Are there any books you've read more than once? 

City of Bones
by Cassandra Clare. I wasn't too enthused by it the first time around, but the girls in my book club all recommended it highly, so I read it again. I just finished the third installment in two days, so I'd say I enjoy it.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Need I say anything about this one? No matter how much the Literature department in every high school in the US tries to run it into the ground with over-analysis, it never loses its luster. 

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel. I first read this in English, then in Spanish. Beautiful. 



After reading The Temp what's your conclusion about leaving spray painted bananas around a city - Art or Litter? 

I'll say this: I feel like recreating the project could critically change modern art as we know it.

Thank you Caitlyn! I'm looking forward to reading your recommendations!  


Fancy being on the blog? If you've read The Temp and want to share your love of books, get in touch, I'd love to hear from you!

Email: emily@emilybenet.com 



Download The Temp for just 99p! 


Thursday, 12 February 2015

Reasons to Keep Your Wedding Dress vs The Truth

Valentine's Day is nearly upon us and here I am blogging about selling my wedding dress. If you think that's unromantic, you should have heard my husband last night. He said if he was given a one-way ticket to Mars, he wouldn't think twice about going! Thanks darling.

My wedding dress is the most beautiful thing I've ever owned. It is luxurious and expensive, with four layers of silk, gorgeous lace with sparkling swarovski crystals and baby pearls. It has a long train and a elegant open back. Our wedding day was a beautiful, happy day; the man I married four years ago still the man I hope to spend the rest of my life with. 

Despite all this, I don't feel sad about selling my dress. I think it's sadder that such a stunning creation should only be worn once, and then stored away in a box*, (*even if the box is rather lovely too and included in the price!).

For some people it's rather controversial selling your wedding dress....

Reasons They Tell You Not To Sell

It's a beautiful reminder of your wedding day.  
Aren't 200 photos a reminder enough?  

Your daughter could wear it for her wedding.
Does this really happen? I would never have thought of wearing my mum's dress. I'm sure long sleeves and high necks were all the rage in the 80's but I would have felt more nun than princess if I'd worn it. Incidentally my Mum did the classic 'I know, let's turn it into a skirt and blouse', which is another thing people suggest you do. Of course she never wore it again.  

You can use it to make a christening outfit.
Who do you think I am? Vivienne Westwood? I can't even sow a button on.   

You could dye it black and cut it short.
Or I could buy a short, black dress and sell my wedding dress.

You could make a set of curtains.
With the amount of material on it, I probably could. However, ivory curtains are rubbish at keeping the sun light out. Back to the drawing board genius.  

It's unromantic to sell it.
That's where you're wrong. The money I get from the dress will go towards something for me and my husband like... the rent!

Kidding! We'll have a little adventure together.


Come on, I write romantic comedies, I'm as romantic as they get. My inner romantic is imagining that dress emerging from captivity to make someone else's day and be danced in once again...  




Sarah Houston 'Demille' Wedding dress £249.00 (RRP £3000). Includes 'Barcelona' veil and travel box. View details on ebay. 






Friday, 6 February 2015

The 'How to be Happy' Myth


It turns out my formula for success and happiness is flawed. It's a common one. You might share it. It goes like this:

"If I work harder, I'll be more successful.
Then, if I'm more successful I'll be happier"

The problem is as soon as you reach that moment of success, you change the goal posts. 

When I received my copy of The Temp in the post, I was ecstatic. For one whole hour, I wanted to dance around the flat. But soon enough, the happiness faded, and I started thinking how it didn't mean much unless it was selling. My goal moved to selling the book rather than getting published, and once again, my happiness was over there, in the distance.  

"If happiness is on the opposite side of success, your brain never gets there," says Shawn Achor, in his uplifting and humorous TED talk.  

He goes on to say that our brains function much better when we are positive. Our energy, creativity and intelligence rises. Basically we will be more successful if we are happy now, not in the future!

Enjoy the journey! I'm always telling aspiring authors. It's something I need to constantly remind myself too. Seven years ago I did 350km of the Camino de Santiago. The excitement of arriving at Santiago de Compostela was ridiculously short-lived . The memory of the journey however, will always make me happy.

Shawn Foer says it doesn't take long to rewire and train your brain to work more optimistically and successfully. Here's one way of doing it:


The 21 Day Challenge to Creating Positive Change

3 Gratitudes  - Write down 3 new things you are grateful for each day so your brain starts scanning for the positive rather than the negative.
Journaling - Write down a positive experience every day so your brain relives it.
Exercise -  Exercise will teaches your brain that behaviour matters.
Meditation - Daily meditation will help your brain focus on task at hand.
Random Act of Kindess - Send a positive email to someone every day.

So, Shawn, after I've done all this I'll be happier right?

D'oh! I guess my brain hasn't been rewired quite yet... 


__________________________________________________________________________


Other Happy Stuff:

1) The Temp is getting lovely reviews like:

"Kept me page-turning past bed time!" - read reviews

2) The paperback is out and it's lovely and shiny

3) The kindle version is only 99p at the moment

Oh, and if you'd liked a signed copy, just click below: 


     Signed Copies of The Temp
          
        


Monday, 2 February 2015

Inkitt's Horror Contest & Your Top Terrifying Books!

Are you looking for a home for a scary short story? 

Then head over to Inkitt. They've just launched their Dark Places contest. It goes something like this:  

"You are in the darkest place in the world." Submit your blood-curdlers, spine-tinglers, skin-crawlers, and hair-raisers to Inkitt's free horror contest! Fiction from flash to 10,000 words is accepted. Receive the most votes to bump your entry into judging by the Inkitt staff." More Details.



I haven't read many truly, terrifying books. Curious to know what I'd been missing out on, I put this question to Twitter:



It wasn't long before the replies came in, with The Woman in Black proving a popular choice. 
Adding,
Sounds like the TV version was just as hair raising,

Other choices included
and good old Stephen King,
As for me, I found The Uninvited made for unsettling reading... especially since it was late at night and I was all alone in my flat and my foot was sticking outside of the duvet, which is never a good feeling. 

And you? What's the most heart stopping, spine chilling book you have ever read? 




Friday, 30 January 2015

Fear of Flying? No. Fear of Missing the Plane? Always.

I'm not afraid of flying, I'm afraid of missing the plane. 

On the days I have to fly, my shoulders freeze level with my ears, my stomach turns to jelly and I relive all those near misses of my childhood. 

As a family, we've spent our lives going back and forth between Spain and England. Whatever the hour, we always had to stop off at our shop on the way to the airport. There was always a chandelier to dissemble / assemble/ pack or deliver. It was always a race against time. 

We would arrive at the airport at the skin of our teeth (except for that time we arrived a whole day late). My Mum would drop us off at the airport, then speed off to the car park which always seemed to be miles away. Her parting words were a variation on: "Save Yourselves! Hopefully we'll meet on the other side!" The thought of my Mum not making it to the other side filled me with dread. 

My prefered way to fly is alone. My husband is Colombian so customs is always stopping him, because, you know, obviously all Colombians are drug dealers. Oh wait, no they're not! ( That joke just isn't funny people!). So far, I'd say American customs are the most unwelcoming. In fact they should just give us foreigners all orange jump suits so at least we can get into character of the criminals they think we are. 

I like flying alone so I can be in control of my time. My tradition is to eat a BLT at the airport. My tradition is under threat because all the cafés insist on adding chicken to what is a perfectly good combo. Isn't one dead animal enough? 

At least on long haul flights I can watch all the soppy films my husband refuses to watch at home. On a recent flight to America, I kicked off my shoes, wrapped the fleecy blanket and selected The Fault in Our Stars. 

In the seat next to me was a little boy, about five years old. When I saw him, my heart sank. I thought he might spend half the flight crying. In the end, the only person wailing was me. 

Have you seen that film? It destroyed me. I sobbed the whole way through. Lucky for me I had noise cancelling head phones so I didn't have to put up with my racket. At one point I noticed my little neighbour, crayon frozen in the air, staring at me in alarm. 

My condition deteriorated after I ordered the wine and chocolate special. I arrived at my destination looking like I'd been stung in the face by a jelly fish. 

Having said all that, my family is all over the world, so thank goodness for planes!

Feel free to offload your flying-related traumas in the comments section... 



Tuesday, 27 January 2015

The £80,000 a year school - Not so 'Rosey' in my eyes!


Did you hear about that Swiss school, Le Rosey, that costs £80,000 a year? 

From six feet under, a ghost of a French revolutionary howls, “Cut off their heads!” The head master rolls his eyes, “Oh do shut up and have a designer cupcake. ”

It’s a bit obscene, isn’t it? Also, slightly baffling. You can’t have much faith in life or your child if you think they need that much support.

What does £80,000 guarantee a year anyway?

Intelligence? Happiness? Self-esteem? Good relationships in life? Emotional Stability? Self-awareness?

Will £80,000 a year guarantee that your child will love you? Or, that they will love themselves?

No.

So, what on earth does the money go on?

I tried making a list

1)    Uniforms designed by Prada
2)    Singing lessons taught by Elton John
3)    A petting zoo with snow leopards
4)    Diamond studded pencil cases
5)    Mink bound notebooks

I’m probably miles off. I can’t think rich enough. I’ve since read they’ve got golf courses and go carts and horses. So, basically their school is a posh holiday resort.

“But how will they integrate with normal people?” I asked my husband.
“They won’t need to,” he said.

No, I suppose they won’t. 

If only the super rich aspired to be superheroes set on eradicating inequality. I’m sure many are philanthropic, but we need even more compassionate hearts with big wallets.

Then again, why shouldn’t they be able to do what they like with their money? Well, true. They should. They can.

I suppose I just feel we are all connected. The human race, that is. We have to look after each other. It just doesn't sit comfortably with me that there are schools costing £80,000 a year, while not so far away, there are children without schools at all.