Saturday 27 February 2016

Bad Poetry

I used to write poetry a lot. Its something I only do when in the mood for now which is not a lot. Today, I wish to share with some of the random pieces of writing that I called poems. Enjoy these unedited pieces and glimpse into my mid-teen mind.

WeddingDay Memory

Rain pipe bird
Small and Soft
Sitting sweetly
Staying for a moment
And you futter away.

Beautiful Fear

The trees were falling gentle
The sky was full of nature fireworks
The wind played hard against the house
The rain sneaked in
The lights disappear but the fireworks continue to bang 


Boredom, Boredom everyway but not drop to dunk

Be careful of what you wait for...It might come

Rose are rope, violets are violent and you've just as rough.

London bridge is Booming down, booming down, booming down. London bridge boom down, my fugly lady.

Now I know my Alpha male, won't you come and howl with me. 
Yes, that last one is just random sentences that I post as a poem. I do not like to rhyme in my poems. I'm going to save the others for another day. I shall flee now, as I have to park or pretend to anyway.

Wednesday 24 February 2016

Book Review: All of the Above by Juno Dawson

Here's hoping for a circle of gay.

When sixteen-year-old Toria moves to the faded seaside town of Brompton-on-Sea, she doesn't expect to fall in love once - let alone twice. But life has a habit of pulling you in strange directions, and when it comes to matters of the heart, sometimes you just have to let go, be free, and let love choose you.

This novel is basically tumblr in the form of a book. The bad and the good. You have variety of sexuality and a over-judgemental sixteen year old who thinks she knows better but is really just a little shit. Toria and I didn't really get off on the best foot:

"It sort of feels good to have some order back in my life. Does that make me sound autistic?" Chapter 1, pg 12.  Great Start, Toria.  She also jokes to have other disorders. She also preaches at the reader and then does something problematic herself straight after. I guess this was a possibly intentional as people are flawed (there are 16 years old like this), if only her flaws weren't so annoying. Here are other quotes with my initial reactions: 

"Who says 'uni' any more, seriously?" Everyone you fucking c*nt. What else would they say?
"AMINE IS NOT CARTOONS." It is and there is nothing wrong with that. Though, Ice Age is on the terrible side of animation.

Toria just straight up says and does unlikable things. On her whole she doesn't bug me that much, but I do spend a lot of time on Tumblr and built up a tolerance to this type of hypercritical bullshit. I also do think it was Dawson's intention for her to be flawed, to make her realistic.

The other characters are band of misfits with their own issues. To be honest, their issues feel rather shallow and more to give Toria an interesting experience. Its a real pet peeve of mine for protagonists to learn from the suffering of their "friends". This is lessen by the fact, Toria herself adds to the diversity from the start of the book, being mix-race herself (which is good to see reflected in the cover). The thing is everyone does have something, but so many people are so open with what their deals are and weirdos do stick together. It just a level of openness not supported with the school environment presented. There is an actual love triangle in this book rather than the line typical in YA. It was overall okay and we get Bi characters that don't like labels. (This is a tumblr troop that I disagree with for personal and non-personal reasons).

The big problem with this book is that it features the "bury your "blank" trope, which was surprising from someone of that belongs to one these typical blank. The LGBTQA+ characters have fallen by this trope. Changing the G to another letter doesn't change that's its a "Bury your gays" moment. I am a queer, disabled person so I hate this trope with a passion, no matter the blank, but to see it under both main blanks was a big slap in the face. This a life lesson moment for the protagonist, it not about this character losing out on life. The reason this is a terrible trope, is that these labels under represented in media and its devastating when your only representation dies...repeatedly. Especially, as there are usually the only ones with that representation in the specific media. There's not enough of us to be so carelessly disregarded. Then there's we are always the villain trope that was really big in the last century... I can't say much more about this book version of the trope without just saying who it is, I'm just trying to distract you with tropes that the Disabled and LGBTQA+ both have together now. Though, feel free to tell me your favourite disabled (or disfigured), coded gay villain in the comments or just randomly tweet me their name.

Told by a reflective Toria (though not much) first-person and is split into the four seasons Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer. The almost reflective thing didn't work well.

 Contemporary books can be a bit plot lost, though this wins with featuring a crazy golf course.

Overall, I give this book 4 out of five stars for hair dye. This book was not quite the circle of gay I was hoping for, but it was an okay light read (tons of possible triggering stuff though. I know I have odd sense of what a "light read" is). It tries to do a lot with representation, I don't know if maybe it too much to have in one book. It felt a little forced to me, but with the lack of diversity in YA maybe we do have to shove in as much as possible.Though, its still fails to be good representation.

Saturday 20 February 2016

Trapped by Family

I have started but not finished the next chapter. I blame my family who kidnapped me and forced me to stay at my sister's house. I was meant to be taking my brother to the pictures but there nothing he wanted to see that he could legally see in a cinema. For some reason every kids film was on in the morning. Ended up going for a meal. Imagine the horror.

I also have a lot of work for uni to do and not a free weekend to do it in. Busy week of stuff.

We're finally moving. Next month meaning I'm not going to have a free weekend for a long while as I'm going to have park hundreds of books and sorting the junk that has been complied in my room in the last year. Despite having a clear out almost every year, my room is still full of stuff. There is stuff I should probably get rid of or can go in the attic at least. On the plus side I can finally have a full size bookcase and we turning a too thin closet into shelving.

The books will certainly be fun to sort through. Though, honestly that should probably be the last thing I do, among dismantling my bed. Kinda dreading it though as I'm going to have to share a room and I barely have room for my stuff now.

I'm making no promises, but I plan to keep working on the novel and do the whole review things as I can't stop requesting books off Netgalley. I will type to you next week till then enjoy this random sentence I wrote.

I'm aimlessly walking again.

Wednesday 17 February 2016

Book Review: 13 Minutes by Sarah Pinborough

Because you should always trust a dog to be on time.

This is an excellent physiological thriller that manages well to mess with you.

 The book is written in different forms, first person POVs, a diary, text messages and fun documents stolen from the police.This worked well with the mystery side of the novel and feeding us the information at satisfying rate with the characters.

The main characters ain't that likable. They're believable, except Becca's thoughts about her "Best Friend" are terrible and don't buy that they would be as close as they are in the novel. Besides that, it totally works with the rest of the story. 

The mystery side is done very well and you never get a clear solution right till the end. I think it gives a realistic way of discovery and doubts that mislead. 

Overall, I gave this book 4 out of 5 stars for stage lights.This was a really great thriller and the clues were lay out got us to stick with the characters' thinking.

I got this for review off NetGalley and is being published by Gollancz on

Saturday 13 February 2016

Dance Hall: Chapter 3, Night Time Vistors

Hello, I am meant to be dying my hair today. I saw Deadpool yesterday. I joked I was only going to see Ryan Reynolds' arse, going off the close up in the trailer. Turns out you do see it multiple times, in different states of visibility. It was good, though I was disappointed that it was only a 15. I wrote the majority of this chapter than last week. This chapter is bit dialogue heavy but I'm trapped by myself. These things won't be perfect as I'm uploading them as I'm writing them so chapters will probably have slight plot issues. No proper title yet.

Chapter 3, Night Time Visitors

I accepted the soup. Dinner was mostly silently while chewing bread. We went back to our rooms immediately after. Thank God. Still no ghosts. No presences. This doesn’t seem right. Ghosts don’t hide this long.

“Don’t you think it’s odd?” I ask my mother again.

“The hotel isn’t…”

“No,” Seriously how can she have not noticed. “I mean how quiet it is.” Maybe she did deal with the ghosts before she sent them off.

“Not really. It’s the quiet season.”


“If there use to a lot of new, highly energised people wanting to make contract, two mediums who are not interested,” Mum’s not quite over the Neomancy. She paused now at her door. “Well, why chase after Tom Cruise when Ryan Gosling is throwing himself at you.” She walks into her room, leaving me dumb founded being called Tom Cruise. I am Ryan Reynolds. Also that’s just dumb and we are the only one here right at this moment.

“That’s a nice theory, but completely not how ghost work.” I turn to Aytia lurking in the hallway.

“I am aware of that.” I go into my own room, not wanting to have a conversation with Junior Creep. She pushes her way into the room as I’m shutting the door. I shut it anyway.

“Do you mind?”

“No,” she sits on the bed, ignoring my annoyance.

“So where are the ghosts?”

She sighs.

“They’re in the empty rooms. We don’t get along,”

“Why don’t you get along?” I ask leaning against the draws that has a pair of twins attached to it that will throw whatever is on or in the draws at you. God, who want to stay here? They had given the last owner a concussion. Okay, maybe I did know why they didn’t get along.

“Er…,” she lays down on the bed. “They were just everywhere and I didn’t want Dad to know that I can see ghosts, because he would like never stop…”

She keeps going, while I step out of the hall and to the room next door. The door is locked. The keys are probably lying in unlockable desk down stairs, but ghosts don’t need locks so why bother.

I kneed down by the door and looked through the key hole to darkness. I get down on the floor to see underneath the door. I can’t see anything either. Sometimes you can see ghost in the dark, like mirrors reverting all the available light. Though, also not. Physics when it comes to ghosts has not been figured out.

I’m tempted just to summon one, but knowing me I would summon them all and my mother will kill me, leaving to haunt at this cheesy hellhole. Limbo would more accurate. limbohole? Maybe I could feel one. I place my least favourite hand at the door. I can just get my pinkie finger under the door. It just feels like the cold air of the hall.

“What are you doing?”

I look up at Aytia and get up from the floor.

“What are you?” I say finally. This town is meant to be full of witches, but they no way to know what someone is unless they tell or show you. She looks confused.

“A…witch?” She says it like it might be the wrong answer. I walk past her back to my room.

“Wait, are you not?” See.

“No, I’m a Necomancer,” I say for the first time. I’ve never had this conversation. Usually, my conversations involving magic were with people my mum knew so they knew/presumed we were both Mediums. Why correct anyone when it comes to how powerful you are?

“What?” She looks shocked from what I can see of her face. “You can control the dead.” Technically, I’ve really did it, on purpose anyway. I just nod.

“Wow,” she sounds in awe. “You’re like crazy powerfully then.” In the Death Contracter scale but that should be nothing to a witch. They can really fuck shit up and have epic wars with other high powered creatures. I hear creaking. I realise it probable my mum can hear us if she still up.

“Shut up and get in here,” I whisper through my teeth. She hesitates before doing as I say. I dump myself on the bed and stare up the ceiling. I’ve probably messed up my sleeping pattern from napping earlier.

“Shut the door,” I sit back up. Atyia is just staring at me.


“I’ve never met anyone who’s that powerful.”

“What are you on about?” I honestly don’t have a clue why this is such a big deal to her.

“You can control things without a heartbeat.”


“That’s like half the demons.” Demons were basically magic users without souls for ever reason. Some are cigma looking and others monstrous, all human.

“You know that’s not how magic works.” Well, I would hope so, 16 was middle-aged for witches.

“Yeah, it is.” I stare her down.

“I only have power over the dead. I summon and banish them, that’s it. I can’t lead an army of the dead.”

“But you could.” I couldn’t, that would be on the high level of Necomancy, which I doubt I ever will be. Though, I’ve never tried.

“So they could float through walls and throw vases at people?”

“Well, yeah but you could steal their energy…”

“You’re talking about Dark magic,” I get from the bed. “You know what path that leads to.” Being almost immortal without a soul or loveones.

“I didn’t mean you would,” she looks almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, it just I’ve never met a Necomancer and the stories about you guys are epic.”

“So are the story about the witches. It doesn’t make it true.” Magic didn’t deal a lot with facts. It’s all just folktales and gossip. One person becomes several or vice versa and has goddess like powers.

“But you’re rare.”

“Exactly, there is no base of reality,” I pause thinking. “Take the Slayers, they all gone but few hiding out somewhere. The last story we have them of was made into a comic book that stopped when she died.” Using one life story to sell comic books was one of the most interesting ways to make money out of this magic existence. “She survived her whole family being slaughtered by jumping off a roof. If it’s her story she sad bad arse, but taken from the point of view of anyone else, all the adult slayers died to save two kids and a baby that just go on to live terrible lifes by all accounts.”

She nods.

“Except the Slayer are all bad asses with tons of powers…”

“How many witches have two active powers?”

“I do,” she says smugly.

“How many?” I choose to ignore her which seems to be a repeating theme.

“I don’t know,” She says finally. “Like 1 in 50, maybe”.

“Exactly and almost never get as strong as someone with one. Even then the stories always involve being ultra-powerful and have active powers that don’t even belong to the same family.”

“So you can’t raise the dead?”

“No,” I lie. I don’t trust her enough to her about being my neighbour fish started swimming when I touched it. She complete stranger and I never even told my mum about that when I said it. It died again a few days later so it possible I did nothing.

“Anyway, what with your dad and the ghost buying?”

“He inherited this place and decided to play up the haunted thing?”


“Or invisible demon messed up the house. I don’t know I wasn’t born. I hate this place too, but I don’t live here so stop the judgey stuff.”

“I’m not,” Who was I judge when it came to mistreating the dead? “Except maybe the room of dolls.”

She shrugs.

“As nice as this chat has been, we’re leaving early so I rather get some sleep, than learn the history of this hotel.”

I get up and lead her out of the room.

“I’ll see around then.”

I just hum in response before shutting and locking the door.

Next Chapter: Vague Warnings

Wednesday 10 February 2016

Book Review: Beautiful Broken Things by Sara Barnard

Finally, a contemporary without the main character declaring her love...romantically.

The books opens with the character stating she wants to get a (first) boyfriend, lose her virginity, have a significant life event. This last one is confusing as wouldn't the two above it be significant life events? She listed them first. To be honest this is not a good start for me. However, the book gets a lot better.

Caddy is our narrator, she self-proclaimed as being boring and I don't know if this is the reason why she reads that way. There lot of discussion about self worth in this book and the two main characters both struggling with it. Except this not satisfying when both characters are flat and don't feel like real people at all. Caddy has nothing going on besides her best friend, Rosie and she doesn't like going out. She too much of a Mary Jane to be able to attach to her.

Whilst the relationship between the girls being the core of the in book, its not that great. The girls are sometimes terrible to each other for very little reason and never felt they cared that much about each other. I think it comes down to not buying the characters. Certain things are done well in their interactions. I don't know how the characters could feel more real and feel like they have a history. I think it just one of those things: it might just come down to my bad start with the book.

 This book deals with abuse and the mental consequences of suffering from it. This is the best part of the novel. Its about the aftermath after leaving the abuse. This done well and I think it manages to capture the mental state of the sufferer and how complex relationship with their abuser can be. 

The ending of this book is rather disappointing. The actual ending is okay and works, but the way we get to it is badly executed. The dialogue before it especially. It just too much on the nose.

Overall, I give this book 4/5 stars for sunflowers. The idea of this book is really solid and does manage to capture the complex nature of abuse. The girls' friendship could be better,especially as that meant to be the base for the novel. I would like to see a book with a similar focus on friendships and do think this a strong début. 

 I got this book for Review off Netgalley and it is being publish by

Saturday 6 February 2016

Novel:Dance Hall, Chapter 2, The Competition

First week back at uni where I have ended up with all morning classes. Ar...nightmares. Also my lectures have taking to making false statement to/about me. One asked how I was, I mumbled fine. Then he said that I could speak (to paraphrase). This is of course is not true as I have Select Mutism and therefore can't speak sometimes. Then another Lector said that I looked like someone was not big  on technology or something, which is just an odd thing to say to someone who clearly grew up in the 90s. Also borderline sexist to say to a girl. Also straight up not true. He then asked for my name so I never responded to this. He then show us a pin-point camera, which is not impressive or interesting due to every child science show, showing how to make them.  

Anyway, another chapter has been written. In terms of structure, this should probably be two chapters but then it be really short. The same as the last chapter so have fun with that. 

Chapter 2, The Competition

“I can’t believe you agreed to stay here.”

“It’s only one night,” she gets out the car. “I promise.”

It better be. This place is a medium’s nightmare. As Necromancer, I can control ghosts enough to get them to leave me alone. Mediums are weaker but have a similar ability. Though, I might just leave my mother repeatedly having to tell the ghost to go away till she looks crazy.

I had only recently found out I up my mum on the Death Contracter scale. She was a high level medium meaning she could banish and summon ghosts if she had the right equipment, but only one at a time and it could make her sick for days. Well, ghosts just love me. I can accidentally summon them but don’t have to bless myself to get them to leave me alone.

Still it was annoying having so many ghost around looking for you to help them or just chat. Seriously, you’d be surprised by how many just want to discuss 19th century politics. I sit in the car brooding till my mum bangs on the window. I get out and take in the Victorian detached house.

It had been built as home for a rich family. It was more of B&B than a hotel but that didn’t have the same ring to it. I grab my backpack from the open boot and slam it back down.

“Watch the car,” I just mumbled back. The gravelled parking lot only had one other car in it. It looked spooky enough surround with a black metal fence sticking out of stone wall. The gate was missing meaning you could be trapped in by the ghosts.

My mum had left me in the yard and was in the house. I followed her before the ghost came out to get me. The house opened to hallway and stairs that lead to the upper floor. There was a small desk at the end of the hall that recognised as one of mum’s finds. Haunted by doctor who had died on it. In some ways this could be seen as one of the worst things mum had ever been part of.

Collecting haunted objects without helping the ghost inside them didn’t seem right to me. Some of the objects she sold were hard to get rid of sprits but that didn’t mean you sold them to some weirdo.

Said weirdo was behind at the desk with my mum sorting out rooms or talking about trapping more ghosts here, both likely possibilities.

“Here’s your lovely daughter now,” I stare at him as a response. I know I should probably be more friendly as he’s mum best client but a creep a creep.

“I would like you least haunted room please?” I say blandly. I doubt he knows what one that is. One noisy ghost is better to handle than two quiet ones. He laughs as if I’m joking. My mother gives me a glare he grabs keys off the hooks behind him.

“It’s the off season so I can give you the best room.” I doubt that involves no ghosts.

He leads us to the upstairs. The place is dark despite the big window at the end of the hall, the walls are covered in familiar nick-knacks. Haunted paintings, ornaments, display cabinet between doorways.

We go right to the hall. He hands mum two old fashion keys.

“Opposite rooms for you two. Dinner will be ready at 6pm.” He says cheerfully and leaves in the hall.

“This place is weird,” I half whisper once he out of sight.

“A room a room,” she says opening her door. I can tell she annoyed with me. I sigh, I know I should be happy she wants to settle down in a town with a magic community but a haunt hotel just doesn’t seem right. I think she hiding something from me.

She hands me the other key.

“Keep yourself out of trouble till dinner,” she tells me like I’m still 4. “I’m going to make a few calls, but I’ll have to go out later.”

I don’t say anything and go to open the door.

“Nova, please,” I look back. “I’m sick of the road. This is just one more sale and then we’re set.”

“If you say so,” I go into the room and shut the door.

She said that before. Then something happens she won’t talk about and we leave for another place. I made it through a whole school year once, first year secondary. Friends and everything. Just acquaintances on the internet now.

The room is empty for anything except the stands of a B&B. A double bed and clearly ensuite sticking out of the wall. I’m surprised by the lack of ghosts considering the house itself is meant to be haunted, never mind the objects its filled with.

I dump my bag on the bed before doing the same with myself to stare at the plastered ceiling.

It’s dark when I wake up. I’ve strangely not moved in my sleep. I was once rolled out of bed and not woke up. I pulled the string to turn the lamp at the side of the bed. It typically didn’t turn on. I dragged myself out of the actual bed. This is when I feel the hand on the back of my ankle.

It makes me jump, like those pathetic jump cuts in modern horror films do, but after like in those films, I’m just annoyed.

“Be gone now and do not return until I am gone.” Banish spells ain’t complicated. The hand tightens and doesn’t let go. A crazed laughter comes from under the bed. Of course, this place would have a super powerful ghost. Then I realise the hand is warm. Not ice cold or burning hot. It’s not a ghost, they only do extremes.

“Let go,” I stick my nails into their fingers.

“Ow,” they let go. I jumped off the bed to face at them.

“Get from under there.”

A long haired figured pulled themselves out and up. I flick on the switch next to the door to clearly reveal a girl about my age. She looks content.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I was sent to get you.”

“By hiding under my bed?” She stumbles for answer for moment.

“You left your door unlocked.” I had, I hadn’t been planning to sleep.

“So you go under my bed?”

“Well, I don’t know you well enough to get in with you.”

“MUM,” I shout leaving the psycho in the room. I bang on her locked door.

“She not in there,” I take her word for it and go for the stairs.

“See it worked.”


“I got you to go down on your freewill.”

I ignore her and in the hopes my mother will be down there continued on my way.

I head to the only room with lights on.

The walls are full of nightmares. Dolls, dolls of all types and sizes stare at me. They’ll be haunted, but they were creepy enough on their own without the presence of some spook. Once I turn my eyes away for from hundred blank ones staring at me, to the long dinner room table.

My mum is sitting across from me looking uncomfortable. Haunted dolls is not one the thing she had sold to the hotel.

“I see Ayita finally got you,” is her greeting with a fake smile. I doubt that Mr Creep was the most simulating conversationalist going off the walls of dolls.

“Hmm,” I mumbled, looking down at the table. It long table designed for banquet or awkward hotel dining, each seat has a place setting in front of it, with a steaming pot in the between Mum & Creep. Thankfully the empty seats are not taken up by dolls. I grab an empty one from across my mother.

The girl, Aytia I guess, sits in the seat next to me and helps herself to the pot. It’s a green soup. God, I hope it’s not meant to ectoplasm. I see now my mother has an untouched bowl of the stuff. It’s probably just pea soup,

“Mav was just telling me that you and Aytia are in the same year as each other.” I don’t respond as I have nothing to add. I don’t even know what the number of local schools or size. It could literally mean nothing.

“How do like the school?” I glance over at Aytia, she smiling politely.

“The local school was okay, but I go to a specialist school.”

“Specialist for what?” I ask, facing her.

“Magic,” she says looking into my eyes, as though that normal and I guess maybe it is. She started to laugh after I said the banish spell. Mr Creepy starts laughing. He precedes to start talking but I ignore him because I really don’t care about the school.

“The high school was great when I went there,” I turn to stare down Mav. For that to be possible, it must be a magic school. I open my mouth for a sarcastic comment when Aytia interrupts me.


Next Chapter: Night Time Visitors