Fan Girl Squeeing

Mark and I pootled around town today, whiling away the day, in order to get to meet the lovely Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi, authors of the books the Spiderwick Chronicles which have been made into a movie called, strangely enough, The Spiderwick Chronicles.



I also know Holly from her YA novels she had written:

• Tithe


• Valiant


• Ironside

They are very well written, fun, dangerous and seemingly about real teens.

But, I digress. We headed off to Waterstones' 6th Floor and sat down and waited. I spotted some scrummy posters and asked the lovely W'stones staff member if I could have one after the fact and he said, certainly, you may. Very sweet.

We sat down and waited and slowly but surely the rest of the audience arrived - adults and kids. We did not feel out at all. Which was a big relief.

Tony and Holly came on, did a hilarious presentation about Spiderwick the movie, chatted about how their ideas became reality in the movie and how much fun they had. Oh, and we heard a lot about Beastmaster. Don't ask. You had to be there.

Anyway, about an hour later, having them entertain us with quips and stories and impromptu drawing, they sat down to sign books.

We had decided to buy Holly a present to remember the UK by - a small silver charm from Fossil, in the shape of a crown - she is the queen of YA, after all. She was totally thrilled by it - phew! - and I got my books signed, my poster too and I managed to be a COHERENT fan girl. Which is totally novel for me.

Then we pootled back home. Loot in hand!

Here are some of my pictures I took of my lovely signed items...we were so enraptured by being in their presence, we forgot we had our small digital camera with us. Sorry, Gareth - no photos! Said camera is now dead...so more photos of the other loot, later!

Because I are clever ...

Yay! Got my marks back for my final Planning assignment and lo and behold – I managed to land myself a distinction. How good is that? Can you say SMUG?

Naming your characters

This is from a website of a YA author called Cassandra Clare who wrote a book called City of Bones which I've read - this is so honest about naming characters:



How do you name your characters?


See, that's where your friends can be helpful.





In fact, the other day I was looking for help naming an evil character.


"I need help naming an evil character," I said.


Writer 1: Hot evil or hideous evil?


Me: Hot evil.


Writer 2: Montague.


Me: Montague? Is anyone actually named that?


Writer 2: It's an evil name.


Writer 3: Exactly. You might as well name him Evil McDarkington.


Writer 2 (in an unfriendly tone): So what do you suggest?


Writer 4: Ed.Me: My uncle's name is that.


Writer 5: See, that's the problem with naming characters. You'll always know someone with that name and it'll skew your view.


Writer 2: That's why Montague is a good choice.


Me: I'm not naming him Montague.


Writer 5: Okay, I've got this great evil name. I've been saving it up. It's awesome. I'm going to give it to you. It's a gift. My gift to you.


Me: Great. What is it?


Writer 5: Magnus von Magnus.


Me: What?Writer


5: MAGNUS VON MAGNUS.


Me:: . . .Thanks.





Meanwhile my friend is trying to name some characters in her vampire pirate saga, so she asked me for help.





Me: The problem there is that most vampires have names like Sebastian de Montclaire-Fotherington and most pirates have names like Bloody Beard, so the two don’t really go together.


Writer 1: How about Plaid Beard?


Her: Plaid Beard?


Writer 2: He’s the fashion-forward pirate.


Her: This character is not just a pirate, he’s a vampirate. And he’s Spanish.


Me: How about Enrique?


Her: Enrique what?


Me: Enrique Iglesias.


Her: Great! *writes it down*


Writer 1 (aside): Are you going to tell her?


Me: Eventually.





So it’s not like I’m a lot of help either. Clearly if you need assistance naming characters you should ask someone else.

Shiny!

I'm not really a girl for some serious bling, but I've been lucky enough to get a few treasures this weekend.

Absolutely stunning tarot charm bracelet from a lovely lady called Lorraine. It jingles and jangles very well. I've had people stop and ask me about it today in the shops - amazing!

At Christmas I got this Links bracelet and little doggy bone from my team as a Christmas present, which is just lovely. Subsequently I got given the scottie dog charm for my birthday, the scarab was bought at the Louvre to commemorate my birthday as well as my love all things Egyptian and at Valentines, I received the bookwurm charm. The lucky dice were given to me last year, as I'm lucky in gambling (she says, desperately checking her lottery ticket) and were on my lovely Victorian charm bracelet until I got the modern Links bracelet. And today FG splashed out and bought me the lovely Fossil watch charm.

My Swatch has died, yet again. Sigh. So this now the replacement - and I get to wear them every day, which I think is very cool.

Very shiny.

About Town

We took some pics this weekend on a photo expedition around Old London Town. We didn't manage to get to as many places as we'd like, but barring the Mayas predictions of the end of the world not being in 2012, but sooner...we figured, it's not going anywhere and we can always take another weekend for some more shots.

Walking around Portobello Market with thousands of other people, mingling with the crowd and becoming totally anonymous. Quite a strange feeling.

Small church, just off Denmark Street (Tin Pan Ally) which just called out for some attention. Hope it approves.

The iconic and confusing street sign indicating different places not to go in the West End.

Again with the iconic photos - this one is taken from the steps of the National Gallery which we galloped around briefly before going home. Sad to report that here we could not take any photos in the gallery...due to copyright...so then why could we do it in the Louvre? Not entirely sure I understand it...

Me, thinking: Holy crap, why are all these tourists here? My feet hurt. I want to go home.

Dante's Coffee Emporium

I've not done this on here before...but I quite like my little ditty I wrote for my online writing group over at Livejournal's Musemuggers. Admittedly, it's put together quickly, so (Wordweaver) there is grammar mistakes and such...but it's fun.

Enjoy.

Oh yeah, don't even think about ripping this off and posting it somewhere else.

Dante's Coffee Emporium

I loved the name and the shop the moment I walked in through the heavy glass doors fitted with snarling carved demon heads as doorknobs. The place was old. And cavernous. Bigger than any other coffee shop I’ve ever been in. The floor was taken up by low tables and comfortable looking chairs and meltingly soft chocolate coloured leather sofas. In fact, to be honest, the smell of coffee and the angry muttering of the ancient coffee-brewing contraption behind the counter was the only indicator that this was in fact a coffee shop.

The walls were lined with bookshelves. The shelves themselves held curios from across the world, set happenstance beside leather-bound journals from the dusty past. The walls were decorated with interesting odds and ends. I felt like I had walked into an eccentric anthropologists' home instead of a coffee shop. A didgeridoo, a set of flutes and a lyre sat beside a few masks from Africa and Bali on the wall. I spotted something that suspiciously gleamed like real gold in a glass case. I squinted. Yep, it was definitely some kind of museum quality pectoral decoration from the Sudan. I recognised the style because I had spent a week in the British Museum studying every single piece of jewellery from Egypt, Sudan and every other country of North Africa it held on an essay I wrote about jewellery and personal decoration in ancient times. It was a hobby. I loved jewellery and the older it was the better. My courier bag bulged with photos, photocopies and illustrations of pieces that tickled my fancy.

"Please feel free to sit anywhere. We are quite quiet today." The voice came from the pretty young girl behind the counter. She had vividly pink hair and wide blue eyes. She was, in a word, stunning.

I walked towards the counter and smiled like an eejit.

"Hi, I'm Jack. Actually it's, Jacqueline Crowe. I'm here for the job." I jerk a finger at the window where a sign declared "Part Time Waiter Wanted."

"Oh?" She seemed startled and peered past my shoulder. The sign sat there, glaring out at the world. "Okay then. Well, wait here a sec and I'll go see if Mr. Milton is available to see you."

I smiled my thanks and continued my observation of the coffee shop. There was one other person in the shop. It took me a while to register her presence. She sat in the shadows, her heavy boots resting on the battered coffee table. A Tiffany lamp was behind her, throwing a dark shadow where she sat. She had several books scattered around her, on the table and on the comfortable looking leather couch she was lounging on. Her heavy silver bangles jingled as she brought a cup of coffee to her lips and drank. They jangled when she put the cup down again. She noticed me staring at her and purposefully turned her head to look at me so that the light fell on her face. I quickly looked away, but not before I saw one dark eyebrow arching at me in query. I flushed to the roots of my hair. Not good being caught staring, but there was something about her…

"You're in luck. Mr. Milton's about to leave for the day and is quite happy to give you a few moments of his time." The girl smiled at me. I felt decidedly monochrome in my jeans and Ramones t-shirt. I stared at her vari-coloured outfit for a second and wondered if she was purposefully advertising the Dulux colours that Don't Go Together palette.

I followed her around the counter to a door marked "Private". She knocked politely and gestured me in. As I walked past her I heard her murmur for my benefit: "Good luck."

I was still flashing a grateful smile at her when the door closed firmly behind me with a dull thwack. I was in a large office. Maybe half again the size of the coffee shop. Where there was still some kind of order to the shop outside, there seemed to be none in here. The bookshelves were stacked any which way the books would fit. Two arm chairs faced the main desk and I gingerly made my way there, between crates and piles of books and papers. The carpet was a plush knotted thing with an intricate pattern that reminded me of some kind of Mandala. There is no sign of Mr. Milton. I took a seat nonetheless and checked my watch, very aware of not having an appointment.

A banging noise echoed in the room and a section of the wall behind the main desk swung open. I almost died of fright and froze in the chair. A man, I assume it is Mr. Milton, appeared carrying a crate which he dumped on his desk. A plume of dust rose in the air. He looked down at his shirt and jacket where the crate left streaks of dust and shook his head in annoyance.

"Must remember to stop at the laundry and pick up some clothes." He muttered this to himself, before he becomes aware of me. His face creased into a friendly smile. I liked him. He had an open face, friendly and quietly handsome. I took him to be in his late forties. "Oh right. Here you are. Very nice to meet you, Jacqueline. I am John Milton. And no, not that John Milton." He shook my hand. It was a good firm grip. My granddad would approve of it. None of this limp wristed jelly handed greetings either.

"Please, call me Jack."

"Jack, eh? It’s been a while since we’ve had one. Good name. A lot of history." He sat down behind the table and gestured to a pack of cigarettes. ""Would you like one?" I shook my head in the negative and he lit up. They are herbal cigarettes, and don't smell too bad. "So, have you got any coffee shop or waitressing experience, at all?"

"A summer, working down in Cornwall at one of the bars there. In my gap year." I hauled out my CV and handed it to him. Probably not the thing he wanted to look at, but hey, you never know.

He dutifully took it and squints at it through the cigarette smoke.

"Oh, interesting. I see you've done some voluntary archaeological digs in Egypt. Interesting. Very interesting." He took a few moments to read it through. I waited patiently. I am good at it.

Mr. Milton narrowed very green eyes at me. "So, why do you want to work at Dante's?"

"Oh." I breathe out heavily. "Because it's one of the coolest shops I've ever been in. And I like coffee." I pause. “Also, I need something to do over summer and working here part time will help me pay for my research.”

"Good answer." He handed me the CV back and I slide it into my courier back. "I must warn you though, this place heaves over the weekends and at night. It literally becomes the coffee shop from hell. We get artists and performers here from all the theatres around here. And you know arty types – very hard work.”

“I will be able to cope – local artists can hardly be any more demanding than grumpy scholarly types on digs out in a desert or laid back surfers high on sex wax, sun and sea.”

He barked out a laugh and came around the table to help me out of the chair.

“When can you start?”

“As soon as you need me to.”

“Excellent. Speak to Summer out front. She will sit down and work a schedule out with you. Oh, and remember – wear comfy shoes.”

As easy as that. I found Summer chatting quietly to the woman with all the books spread out around her. She looked up at my approach.

“And?”

“I got the job!”

If I expected her to look pleased on my behalf I was disappointed. She gave me a long slow look.

“Pity. This place is hell.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

As we turned back to the counter I got a good look at the woman lounging on the couch. She was tall and slender, dressed in comfortable jeans and a sleeveless top. I turned to speak to Summer about schedules, but not before I notice the spiked tail curling around the coffee cup on the table and lifting it to her hand, so she didn’t have to stretch.

Ah. Suddenly I got it. This was indeed the coffee shop from hell.

A book staircase!?

OMG. I want one of these.

This is the article about the book staircase - incredibly clever...and I love it.