Reading – Page 23 – Deborah Makarios

February 3, 2017

Are You Elizabeth Bennet?

What do Pride and Prejudice, honesty and beta reading have in common? Read on to find out!

Imagine a sliding scale of tact. At one end, total blunt honesty with complete disregard for feelings. At the other, spineless appeasing sugar-coated honeydrops. Where do you fit on the scale? This handy quiz will tell you.

Question 1: do I look fat in this?

Answer:
a) Darling, you look lovely!
b) Is that you? I thought it was an elephant.
c) I’m afraid it doesn’t flatter your figure.

Question 2: have I offended you?

Answer:
a) No… I’m not offended.
b) Of course you *%^#& have!
c) Yes – can we talk about it?

Question 3: does this colour suit me?

Answer:
a) You look wonderful in everything!
b) You look like you’re dying of some grotesque disease.
c) I think […..] might be a better look.

Question 4: wouldn’t you agree?

Answer:
a) Oh, definitely.
b) No, because I’m not a brain-dead moron!
c) No, actually. I think….

Question 5: do you like my new boyfriend/girlfriend?

Answer:
a) I’m delighted for you – I’m sure you’ll be so happy!
b) S/he is the most repellent person I’ve ever met – you are literally insane, you know that?
c) I don’t know that this is the best relationship for you.

And now to the scoring! Give yourself:
3 points for every time you answered A;
1 point for every time you answered B;
and 2 points for every time you answered C.

If your total is 5-8 points: you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Remember, truth is like a stick: you can use it to support someone, or hit them over the head (and sore heads don’t take much in). Sometimes you have to choose between making a point and making a difference.

If your score is 13-15 points: you are Mr Collins.

Insincerity devalues your contribution, as people have no idea what you are really thinking. It’s nice to want people to feel good, but when it comes down to it, people won’t believe you if they can’t trust you to be honest.

If your total rests between 9-12 points: you are Elizabeth Bennet, who goes to the effort of uniting civility and truth. Just the friend we all want, in fact: someone who will tell it like it is without unnecessarily hurting our feelings.

So to you Elizabeths, I have a proposal to make (blush). Might I interest you in being a beta reader for my WIP? The task is not onerous: it consists of reading the text and telling me what you liked and what you didn’t like, if you got bored and where, and any other ways you think the book could be improved.

If you’re interested, put your hand up in the comment section and I’ll get in touch. The text should be ready in a couple of weeks, and you’ll have about a month to read and reply. In return, you get the first look at the novel (pre-publication) and your name in the acknowledgements (post-publication) – plus of course my undying gratitude, goodwill etc (firstborn child not included).

Restoration Day

Lily has been raised to be the perfect fairytale princess, in her enchanted castle on the edge of a magical land. But when the chance for a quest arises and she descends from her castle, she finds that all is far from perfect in her fairytale kingdom.
Before she knows it she is running for her life (princesses never run) and learning that being a princess is a far cry from being the queen her land so desperately needs. Her quest is deadly serious now: if she doesn’t find the regalia in time for Restoration Day, the land will be lost forever – and so will she.

October 28, 2016October 20, 2017

Am I Cruella de Vil?

Not a question one often finds oneself asking. But when it first popped into my mind, I decided there was a case to answer, and promptly borrowed the book from the library to further investigate. The results were not as reassuring as I might have wished.

Cruella wears fur. So do I. [Disclaimer: I don’t buy ‘new’ furs unless they’re from a humanely culled pest species; and I would never knowingly buy or wear the fur of an endangered animal.]

Cruella likes pepper. So do I.

I like ink, too, though I prefer to write with mine, not drink it.

Cruella is married – so am I.
She has no children – neither do I.
Her husband changed his name when they married – so did mine!

Cruella owns a cat. So do I (two, in fact).
Cruella feels the cold. So do I.

In fact, I am feeling distinctly chilly as I look at this list. It’s not looking good!

On the other hand, I didn’t marry a furrier – though back in my high school days a personality test suggested I was suited to being a graphologist or fur designer. (I didn’t know what the former meant, and the latter seemed a bit redundant: they just grow.)

Speaking of school days, while I have been a student at a fair number of schools in my time, I have never once been expelled – as far as I can remember, anyway. Nor do I dominate my husband and force him to eat oddly coloured food smothered in pepper.

I don’t customarily wear slinky satin dresses with ropes of jewels – probably because, unlike Cruella, I am not a fabulously rich society heiress from a notorious family. Well, I’m not a fabulously rich society heiress, anyway (cough). Nor do I own a flashy chauffeured car which “looks like a moving Zebra Crossing” – in fact, I don’t own a car at all; I never have.

HMS Kildangan IWM Q 043387 — If Cruella de Vil owned a yacht…

My hair isn’t black and white either; it is a very dark brown with occasional silver hairs if I hunt carefully. Nor have I chosen to decorate my home in red and green marble (how revolting). Possibly the marbled interior of her home, when considered in the dim and rainy light of the English climate, goes a long way towards explaining why Cruella feels the cold so much…

Cruella’s cat is Persian, kept only because it’s valuable – she drowns all its kittens. My cats (“the Cat” and “the Kitten”), aren’t worth anything. Unless perhaps they get hit by a car and found by Claire Third (warning, cat lovers may find article/images distressing). Of the four kittens the Cat produced in her youth, three were re-homed and we kept the fourth. Most days the Cat seems to think drowning him would have been preferable, but that’s another story.

And for the record, I don’t want to make a coat out of Dalmatian puppies, not even “for spring wear, over a black suit.” I like puppy skins best when containing puppies.

So what do you think? Am I Cruella de Vil, or amn’t I?

July 22, 2016October 20, 2017

The Importance of Unwinding

You need it, I need it, we all need it. Something that will allow us to relax and let the string spool off the YoYo of Stress. If you don’t take the pressure off now and again, you go pop! like a weasel, and that isn’t good for anyone.

The key is to find the things that relax you, and make sure you make time for them. It sounds a bit self-indulgent, perhaps, but consider these words from the philosopher and theologian Thomas Aquinas. “It is requisite for the relaxation of the mind that we make use, from time to time, of playful deeds and jokes.” In other words, lighten up a bit.

Seneca the Stoic agrees. “We must indulge the mind and from time to time allow it the leisure which is its food and strength.” His suggestions include going for a walk to get plenty of fresh air, going on a trip for a change of scene, or having “social meals and a more generous allowance of wine.” There you are, then. Be stoic: take a walk with friends to the nearest pub. Or consider the Cowper Cups that “cheer but not inebriate” – nothing like a nice cuppa when you put your feet up.

Jane Austen’s heroine Fanny, in Mansfield Park, says “to sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.” Many others before and since have shared this view, although Mary Crawford (she of the flexible conscience), proclaims “I must move… Resting fatigues me.”

Others favour a creative pastime, or reading, or listening to music, or taking long hot baths. The poet Dylan Thomas claimed that “Poetry is not the most important thing in life… I’d much rather lie in a hot bath reading Agatha Christie and sucking sweets.”

When the Caped Gooseberry and I were preparing to marry, we went through a thingy designed to bring to our awareness any issues that we might have in merging our lives. Forewarned, forearmed and all that sort of thing. The results suggested that we needed to work on finding ways to relax together, because we tend to find different things relaxing. (Other than that it was pretty much you’re weird, he’s weird, go for it.) I like to read and watch DVDs; he likes to think and play strategy games.

So we had to diversify our relaxment portfolios, and this was a good thing, because there is nothing worse (figuratively speaking) than finding yourself in a stressful situation and being unable to relax. Trust me on this. The Caped Gooseberry and I have been looking for a house to buy for some time (in fact, since just before the prices took off) and our efforts in that direction – with corresponding stress – suddenly increased three or four weeks ago. Just as I developed a pain in my wrist. What it was that was wrong with my wrist, I do not know, but I couldn’t knit with it.

I. Couldn’t. Knit.

I had always assumed that my MO in relaxing was curling up with a classic mystery, and I had not noticed how important knitting had become in the general scheme of relaxation. Had not noticed, until it suddenly disappeared for two weeks. (Twitch, twitch.) I would no doubt have fallen back on my old standby without thinking about it, had it not been for the fact that I boxed them all up back in March because I thought they were getting a bit too much of a hold on me.

Once I noticed the rising stress levels, however, I decided it would be all right to fish a few out to be going on with. Now my wrist has stopped doing whatever it was it was doing, I can knit again, and I feel much better. The question remains: will the mysteries stay out of the box, or go back in?

Well, the stress of house-hunting has died away. (In!)
Because we bought a house today, and that brings its own stresses. (Out!)
And we’ll be moving house soon. (In!)
But unlike the last time we moved house, I have no intention of packing away the stress-relievers first. Not all of them, anyway. I have at last learned my lesson: find what relaxes you, and stick to it.