I.O.U.

I am trying to get into the habit of posting something every second day so I have one full day in-between in which to immerse myself in The Book but sometimes my good intentions die a little death between the thought and the execution.[Yes that very poor pun was intended!]

So, yesterday I woke to 75 emails and comment notifications in my inbox. They weren’t the kind of emails you can just tag and delete. They were good emails, interesting emails, the kind of things you want to savour and, more importantly, reply to with a bit of genuine thought.  So my nice neat schedule went out the window.

Today I’ve finally caught up on the posts, emails and comments so it’s time to do some serious editing on The Book. Hence this I.O.U.

I do feel guilty about not posting something interesting today but I’m hoping no-one is going to take their ball and go elsewhere

A demain, mes amis!

Illuminating blogger award

I’m not sure what it is about these awards that turns me into a fumble-fingered ignoramus but I inevitably mess up in some way and today has been no exception. I tried to follow the instructions to the letter and thought I’d succeeded until, shock horror, I realised I’d put my acceptance comment in the wrong award.

So before I do anything else I must apologies to Food Stories Blog for being an idiot. As Bluebottle* would say – “I feel a proper fool.”

Now that I’ve confessed I can move on to step 2 of the instructions. I’d like to thank Lord Daud for nominating me for this award.

David is one of those incredibly generous people who spend a great deal of their time helping others achieve their dreams. His most recent gift of friendship was to email me with a long list of short story competitions. He did this because he knew that I would skin a cat* forever before finding the courage to look for them myself. That gentle, not so subtle nudge pushed me into entering 2080 into not one but two competitions. I don’t expect my first short story to win anything but just entering it was a huge achievement for me and will give me the courage to enter other competitions in the future.

Now, according to step 3 of the instructions I have to reveal one thing about myself. I doubt that anyone will be surprised when I say that I’m a little challenged in the courage department. I’m a miniature tiger when it comes to defending others but I’m a chihuahua when it comes to promoting myself. This is not a good trait in someone thinking about becoming an indie author. All I can say is that I’m working on it. Baby steps so far but I am trying. So thank you David.

This is my third award and I would really like to say thank you to everyone I’ve met online but I’m limited to nominating just five bloggers. This makes things bloody hard I can tell you. In the end I decided to go with the theme of indies, so now I would like to celebrate bloggers who have shown me that being an indie author can be synonymous with innovation, beautiful prose and a level of quality that puts many traditionally published authors to shame. They’ve inspired me and I’ve loved reading their books. Thank you one and all.

Illuminating Blogger Nominees :

Candy Korman for her innovative fusion of literary monsters and crisp, modern prose.

Lord David Prosser for his gentle humour and wonderful way with words.

Rachel Abbott for her compelling thriller that took the genre to a whole new level.

Stephen Faulds for his beautiful portrayal of love and falling from grace.

M. Edward McNally for creating the kind of fantasy world I would love to live in.

 

*Bluebottle : a favourite character from the 1950′s radio show The Goons.

*Skinning a cat : procrastinating.

I want you all to come for dinner!

There are posts I should be writing, other posts, different posts but today has begun in such an amazing way that I want to reach out and hug all my online friends – and that includes the new ones I’ve met for the first time today.

As usual I leapt from bed this morning with a groan, cracked my neck a few times, said hello to Golly and Mogi [cat and dog respectively] and then made a beeline for the kettle.  I looked through my kitchen window at the miserable grey day outside and resigned myself to having a miserable grey day inside as well.

Wrong, so very wrong.

Coffee in hand I fired up the trusty pc and logged in to wordpress to be met with not an orange number but a new orange notification icon. Ok, I thought, wordpress is tweaking again. I clicked on the new icon and my jaw just dropped. I had so many comments! Where had they all come from? As I began reading the comments my smile just got bigger and bigger [yes Bluey I'm looking at you]. Suddenly being inside, warm and loved was the very best place on earth to be.

So what does a small, middle-aged, Hungarian-Australian woman do when she’s happy? Does she start writing The Book with a vengeance? No.  Does she dance around like an idiot? Well yes… but mostly she cooks because food means love to a Hungarian.  So I’m inviting you all over for dinner. I’m making a shitload [excuse the Hungarian] of veal schnitzel, parsley potatoes and cucumber salad. It’s a big meal so please don’t ruin your appetites with snacks – sideways glance at Daud. The wine is byo though, sorry.

Ok, now before I begin cooking I must point out that everything on the menu comes from my Mum. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I reveal some of her little tricks, especially when it comes to the schnitzel. Here we go.

VEAL SCHNITZEL a la Mum.

Moist, tender veal schnitzel begins with pale, young veal,  not yearling. If you can get it cross cut then fantastic. If not just ask the butcher NOT to tenderise it. You want it thick so it doesn’t dry out into a nasty piece of crumbed leather.

Ok, so I have about 10 slices of lovely veal. I cut them into smaller pieces [about the size of my palm]. I lay them on a plate in layers and very lightly salt each layer. Now I’m setting them aside for about 1/2 an hour. That little bit of salt will give the veal as much tenderising as it needs.

Next I prepare three bowls, 2 small, one large. Plain flour goes into the first small bowl. I crack four free-range eggs into the second small bowl and pour a lot of breadcrumbs into the large bowl. They can wait as well.

[I'm always in a hurry so I never prepare everything in advance. Instead I've turned into a time and motion expert, fitting different preparation steps into vacant time slots. Trust me, it works].

While the veal is tenderising in the salt I throw four large potatoes [skin and all] into a big pot of cold water, add salt and put the pot on to boil.

Now I have time to prepare the cucumbers. I peel three medium sized cucumbers [or two of the long continental burpless variety] and slice them very, very fine. The cucumbers go into a bowl and I sprinkle them with salt to draw out as much of the  moisture as possible. The cucumbers get set aside as well.

What’s left? Oh the parsley. I have parsley growing wild in my garden and I quickly gather a bunch about the size of a standard bunch from the supermarket. After a quick wash the parsley is ready to be chopped. Out comes the wooden chopping board and my trust Big Knife. It’s sharp and rather heavy but that’s just what I need. The tip of the Big Knife  goes onto the chopping board and then crunch, crunch, crunch. There’s something so satisfying about chopping parsley. I keep venting all my hidden aggression until the parsley is nice and fine. That gets set aside too.

[Those of you with a mathematical bent may have noticed that I've used a rather frightening number of bowls and bench space. Don't be afraid, it's all in a good cause.]

Okay! Almost all of the preparation is now done. The potatoes are boiling, the cucumbers are swimming in their own juices and the veal is ready to be crumbed. I have a production line system where I dip a piece of veal into the flour, pat off the excess, drown it in beaten egg and then bury it in the breadcrumbs. I know some people prefer to do all the flouring first but really, that part is not important. The only important part is how well you press the breadcrumbs into the veal. I don’t want it to just stick, I want it to drill down into the meat so I get physical with the crumbing, pressing down hard until I have a nice, thick crust.

By the time half of the veal is crumbed the potatoes are done. I drain them into a big colander and let them cool off a bit. I have pulled the skins off while they’re piping hot but it’s not pleasant.

Once the veal is all crumbed and the potatoes are cooling I turn my attention to the cucumbers. This next bit gets a little messy. I drain most of the liquid off and then grab handfuls of limp cucumber and squeeze. [Not a single, solitary word gentlemen or you'll be eating McDonalds!]. Squeezing gets rid of all the excess salt and moisture leaving a pale green mess that doesn’t look all that appetizing in the bottom of the bowl. Soldier on!

Now I’m going to scrape two plump, peeled cloves of garlic until they’re both mashed to death and add them to the limp cucumber, mixing the lot together with my fingers. I pour about 2 tablespoons of white vinegar on top, give it a quick stir then pat it down with the back of the spoon. Now the cucumbers can sulk on their own for a while.

A quick check of the clock sends me into over-drive! Grabbing another trusty knife from the knife block I cut the cooked potatoes into halves and peel off the skins. Then each half gets cut into bite-sized chunks. Done.

Time to start cooking the schnitzels. I turn on the gas, plonk a big, heavy cast iron frypan on the hobb and pour just enough peanut oil into the bottom to cover it to about 1/8th of an inch. You do not have to deep fry schnitzel! While the oil heats I start to tidy up the huge mess I’ve made in the kitchen.

The oil is hot, time to test it. Taking a crumb from the schnitzels I drop it into the pan and rub my hands in glee as it starts to sizzle. It’s ready. I place pieces of crumbed veal in the pan, taking care to leave enough room around each piece so they all cook evenly. Then I turn the heat down as low as it will go and put a big lid over the top. This is perhaps the most important part of the whole cooking process. The lid keeps the meat cooking at just the right temperature so it becomes tender but not dry and chewy.

When I hear activity from beneath the lid I lift it to have a look. Yes! The first side is golden brown. I flip each piece over and fry them for a few minutes more, without the lid, to make the bottoms crisp and crunchy. Perfect! Time to take them out, drain them a little and place them on the serving plate. I could drain them on paper or even slices of bread but I don’t mind a little bit of oily goodness so I just lick my chops and put more schnitzel on to cook. Again the lid goes on until the first side is cooked through.

While the next batch is cooking I whip out another frying pan and put a heart-stopping amount of beautiful butter in the bottom. As the butter melts I add the chopped parsley and let it sweat for a few minutes on low heat until the butter is a golden, greeny colour. Then I add the chopped, cooked potato to the parsley mix and swirl it around until everything is coated in green, buttery goodness. On goes the lid and down goes the heat. I only need the potatoes to simmer gently and reheat now.

More crisp, golden schnitzel comes out of the heavy frying pan and another lot goes in. Masterchef eat your heart out! By the time the doorbell rings I have a huge platter of schnitzel, a big bowl of parsley potatoes and a smaller bowl of pale green cucumber salad on the table next to a loaf of crusty white bread.

“Come in, come in!” Hugs and kisses all round. “Go sit down and eat while its hot!”

“What’s that you say Daud? I’m covered in flour, breadcrumbs and parsley? Oops, I knew there was something I’d forgotten to do.”

As all my wonderful friends settle around the table and begin helping themselves I race off to get changed knowing they’ll still be eating when I get back all sparkly and clean.

I love big family meals where no-one stands on ceremony and good food and good conversation are the order of the day. And I love all of you. Thank you for making today so wonderful.

 

Tell me about yourself award

Mary Ann from Mypenandme just left a lovely comment on my blog saying that she had nominated me for the ‘Tell me about yourself’ award. I’m rather stunned because I’m still very new to blogging in general and awards in particular. To me just logging into wordpress and seeing those bright orange numbers up there is an award in itself and I’d like to take this opportunity to thank every single person who has ever read anything I’ve ever written, or may write in the future! My special thanks though go to Mary Ann who has talents in the poetry department that I wish I had.

Now, according to the rules of these awards I have to write 7 things about myself that I haven’t revealed before and then I have to nominate 7 other bloggers for the same award. Oh and copy/paste the proudly displayed award into your own blogs! I hope you guys are paying attention because I know I messed up on the instructions when Daud [aka Lord David Prosser] nominated me for my very first award so try to get it right

Ok, here we go. 7 things I haven’t yet revealed.

1. This is a biggie – I’m 59. That is just one year away from the big six-o when I officially leave the ranks of the late middle aged and become a baby oldie.

2. I’ve learned many things over the last 59 years but none of them has made me grow up, not properly. I can pretend to be dignified for about five minutes but after that I tend to revert to my true age which fluctuates between 10 and 35.

3. I used to ride motorbikes in my twenties and I still love them but I lost my nerve years ago. I blame my Kawasaki 400 which was so big I couldn’t put both feet on the ground at the same time, even on tippy toes.

4. I’m short – see 3 above.

5. When I was younger I used to wear 4″ heels to make me look 5’8″. Being short is hell!

6. I’m an absolute softie when it comes to kids and animals. I do however draw the line at spiders. Nothing with 8 legs need apply.

7. I don’t believe in god or in any religion but I do believe in goodness and I venerate life in all its forms. I justify my stance on roast chicken and spiders as hypocrisy with extenuating circumstances.

Phew, that was actually quite hard. Be warned my lovelies!

Now for the easy part – Seven bloggers I nominate for the ‘Tell me about yourself’ award :

-  Jennifer Scoullar.  Jennifer is another aussie but I’m nominating her because she can write like crazy.

- The Pink Agendist.  Because this is a man with a big heart. And he can cook!

- Courtney Bluebird.  Bluey is not an aussie but she could be  She is also teaching me about poetry and deserves a medal of valour for that.

- Maggie O.  Maggie is funny and kind, she is also funny and loves animals. Oh and did I say she was funny? Well she is

- Alex Laybourne.  Alex writes horror but it’s his understanding of human nature that is his greatest talent.

- Caressingthemuse.  Stephanie is a whiz at marketing and shares her knowledge with great generosity. She also has a way with words that makes learning fun.

- Sable City.  M. Edward McNally creates worlds I want to visit and has a sense of humour that hits all the right buttons with me.

I have dear friends I haven’t nominated this time around but Daud,  Candy, Metan, SweetMother, I love you all!

Young Frankenstein – Putting on the Ritz

A few days ago Courtney Bluebird and I were swapping nostalgic video clips when she completely floored me with this one – Young Frankenstein – Putting on the Ritz!

For those of you who are not old time musical fans, or were born far too late to know what you are missing, this video clip is a parody of the very famous Fred Astaire version, also called ‘Putting on the Ritz’.

What? You haven’t heard of Fred Astaire either? Oh my god…. Ok, consider this post to be Old Time Musicals 101 then.

First up I give you Fred Astaire, so you have a point of comparison. Please note the smooooooth elegance and sheer style of the man. He makes everything look so effortless and easy.

And now for the Gene Wilder version. You many remember Gene Wilder from the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie. [And yes, Johnny Depp was great in the role but nothing beats Wilder's... ambiguity. Is he a good guy or a master villain?].

In Young Frankenstein Wilder plays the role of Dr Frankenstein, a singing and dancing Dr Frankenstein, so what could be more natural than for him to partner with the monster of his creation? [I'm going to buy the whole movie so I can tell you exactly what the story is about but for now you will have to make do with just this teaser].

And now, without further ado I give you Dr Frankenstein and his monster in – Putting on the Ritz!

I know I shouldn’t gush like a giggly school girl but – isn’t the monster simply wonderful?

Mitt Romney – once a bully always a bully?

I’m an Australian and we tend to see our politicians as being little better than used-car salesmen so I do not pay much attention to politicians at all, especially when they are not even from my own country, however a friend sent me an email recently [thank you Candy] that I could not ignore. It concerns the furore that has erupted over Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney. Apparently Romney, aged 18, and his posse terrorized a fellow student at school by overpowering him and cutting off his long, bleached blond hair. It is unclear whether any of the boys in the posse thought the victim was gay, however it is clear that they remember the incident. Republican candidate Romney however asserts that he has no memory of the incident. When Romney, or his minders, finally decided that an apology was required it turned out to be a generic ‘sorry if I caused offence’ type statement.

Those are the facts that I could glean from the net where the media is polarized between the Romney apologists who seem to be determined to paint the incident as no more than youthful ‘hijinks’ and those who are determined to paint Romney as a dangerous bully. Which version is right?

I decided to dig a little deeper. We all know ‘what’ a bully is but what lies behind the label? The italics are mine.

According to Psychology Today :

“Bullying is a distinctive pattern of deliberately harming and humiliating others. It’s a very durable behavioral style, largely because bullies get what they want—at least at first. Bullies are made, not born, and it happens at an early age, if the normal aggression of two-year-olds isn’t handled well.”

Another source, Dr. Susan Lipkins, a psychologist for twenty five years, says :

“Many people think that bullies are either insecure or have low self-esteem. Recent research shows that some bullies may fit this description, but many bullies have high self-esteem.

The bully leads via intimidation. People follow to avoid being victimized.”

This picture of bullies with high self-esteem dove-tails nicely with an article in the American Psychology Association by psychologist Pat Ferris, MSW, PhD who says that her research into workplace bullying found that :

“…bullying tends to start at the top, trickling down through the ranks, and that bullying breeds more bullying, making it an entrenched cycle that’s tough to stop.”

So, can any of us afford to dismiss Mitt Romney’s bullying as just youthful hijinks? Something he grew out of when he became more committed to his religion?

I imagine that the right wing religious movement in the US would like to believe that getting religion is proof that Romney is now a good, kind, mature person who is well qualified to be a father figure to the nation. I am not so sure of that however my reasons rely on speculation rather than fact. I know that Romney is a Mormon. I am even prepared to believe that he is a true believer however that does not automatically make me trust him.

Why? Because of the possibility that Romney’s ‘slightly effeminate, long-haired’ victim may have been seen as gay. And, as far as I know, no religion on earth is prepared to accept homosexuality as a viable life option. I may be wrong in that assertion but I know that a core tenet of the Mormon faith is the Law of Chastity.

“The law of chastity … states that any sexual relations outside of opposite-sex marriage is prohibited.[1] Included within the prohibitions of the law of chastity is homosexual behavior. Violating the law of chastity may result in church discipline. Members of the church who self-identify as gay, lesbian, or bisexual may remain in good standing in the church if they abstain from all homosexual relations and from heterosexual relations outside of opposite-sex marriage.”[wikipedia]

The ‘abstain from all homosexual relations’ part is key. Gays who abstain must be tolerated but what of those who do not abstain? What of those who not only do not abstain but do not even belong to the church? More importantly, how would an 18 year old young adult interpret that law?

Few of us can remember every little thing that we did as teenagers or young adults but most of us can remember the things we did that we are ashamed of. Those are the things that make us feel guilty. Those are the things we do not mention in our CV’s or bring up around the dinner table for fear that even those who love us the most will look away in disgust.  Those are the things that at least some members of Romney’s posse remember.

Methinks that Mitt Romney either does remember quite well and chooses to pretend that he does not. Or. He genuinely does not remember because that incident was just one of many that he believes show what a strong, powerful leader he was, even back then. ‘Of course in this climate of political correctness the boo-hooers have the upper hand but in time those bleaters will be the first to appreciate what a true leader can do…’

Does Mitt Romney as President scare me? Oh yes. Romney has achieved pretty much all that he has ever set out to achieve, which means that what worked at 18 is still working now. That is scary because if bullying worked at 18 then why would he want to change a winning formula as President?

Once a bully always a bully.

Bullying – another child lost

When I first stumbled on the tragic story of Kenneth James Weishuhn I was horrified and then I became angry and started blogging in the hope that words from my small corner of the universe might make some tiny difference, might help to stop this obscenity from happening again.

Since then my anger has turned to a kind of sick incomprehension because the suicide of Kenneth is not the first example of a child hounded to death; it is one of many. Another one may be happening even as I write these words and I feel powerless to stop another young life from slipping away. Yet when naive hope is gone a stubborn persistence can sometimes remain. So I’m not going to stop crying ‘why?’. I’m not going to stop demanding answers. And I’m not going to stop demanding change because these children deserve better from us than a five minute ‘tsk tsk how sad’.

The light has gone out for this boy but his message lives on. He wanted to believe that things would get better. For him they did not. Yet that dream deserves to be pursued for all the other children like him who are struggling with bullying right now.

I strongly suggest that all parents, teachers and anybody with a heart should go to :

http://wp.me/p2eXkV-k8

to give Project ProteKT what help you can, even if it’s nothing more than moral support.

Enough is enough.

 

 

 

Weekend Giggle

Another blogger introduced me to Rudy and Moody and I’ve been following their insanely funny brand of humour ever since.

These once a day cartoons make me laugh and then the rest of my day just seems naturally better.  I dare you to look at these funnies and stay glum.

Click and enjoy!

Weekend Giggle.

p.s. and thank you guys, this one literally brought tears to my eyes!

 

‘Suffer the little children to come unto me’

I rarely think about religion these days – I haven’t learned anything in the last 43 years to tempt me back into the fold – but I do think about good and evil quite a bit, especially when I learn of children dying. That’s when words from the new testament come floating back to me. Words like ‘suffer the little children to come unto me’.

Call me a stupid atheist but surely those words are an invitation to be loved, not an exhortation to make children suffer before they come unto him?

Kenneth James Weishuhn certainly suffered. The mother in me would like to believe that he is in a better place now but I know that heaven and hell are right here on earth so my only consolation is that he is no longer living in hell. But thoughts like that do not lead to peace of mind. I start imagining what must have happened to him to turn his life into hell and I want to hit something. He was a happy kid by all accounts. I imagine him as being like my nephew at that age – a bit of a terror at times but also full of fun, popular too. And then I imagine how all of that must have changed when he hit puberty and admitted to himself that he was gay.

According to reports on the net he ‘came out’ and then everything changed. His closest friends stuck by him but others turned on him like a pack of rabid dogs. Did he expect that? I very much doubt it for they did not just abandon him, which would have been bad enough, they began a campaign of malicous bullying that eventually lead to his suicide. And the hatred did not stop with his death. Those kids still hate him. Those kids have publicly said that they are glad that he’s dead. Yet they are no older than he was. How can children hate so much? What could they possibly have experienced that would make them hate gayness so much that they would turn on someone who used to be a friend?

When you look at those little monsters in that way the answer is obvious – no child is born hating anyone. Every child learns to hate from their older siblings, from their cousins, from their parents, from their parents’ circle of friends, from the attitudes of their teachers and preachers, from the politicians who represent their communities. There are even organizations whose stated aims are to send gays back into the closet.

One Million Moms is one such organization. Those loving, caring mothers are determined to stamp out every sign of gayness from the media to protect their little darlings from ever believing that gays could possibly be normal people like you and me. I can just imagine the dinner table conversations :

“Guess what I did today hun! I sent lots of letters to the [insert name] organization to get that awful Ellen DeGeneres banned!”
“That’s nice.”
“But why Mom?”
“Because she’s…[lowered voice] gay!”
“What’s gay Mom?”
“You’re too young to know what gays are, just believe me, they are horrible, evil people [shudder].”
“You’re Mom’s right, now eat your greens.”

Multiply that conversation a thousand times in hundreds of different contexts and it’s suddenly easy to see how such a subliminal hatred can become embedded in a child’s psyche. Then add a fateful moment when a friend announces that he is [gasp] gay and you have the makings of a tragedy.

Imagine it. Those kids have been brainwashed into believing that gays are the next best thing to the devil and suddenly they find themselves right next to a ‘gay’ and not just any gay but one of their own. Did the boys wrestle with Kenneth when they were little? [I touched a gay!] Did they laugh at his jokes? Did they like being with him? [OMG am I gay too?] Did the girls have crushes on him [he's so cute!]? Did they secretly imagine some heavy petting or, god forbid some actual sex with him? Did the experimentation include some heavy petting? [OMG I touched a gay!] Perhaps they felt betrayed. Perhaps they felt contaminated. Perhaps they feared that if the other kids found out they’d be tarred with the same brush.

Whatever the actual reasons may have been those kids distanced themselves from the horror the only way they knew how – by trying to stomp it out of existence the same way I’d squash an ugly, hairy, horrible spider – with revulsion. Except that this spider was a beautiful boy whose only crime was a sexual orientation he could not change.

And what were the adults doing while this one-sided war against gays was being waged? Did they know and turn a blind eye? Or did they just continue life as normal, subtly reinforcing their kids’ hatred the same way they had been building it from the beginning? Did the preachers give any sermons on brotherly love from the pulpit? Or did they just rant about Sodom and Gomorrah and the evils of homosexuality? Did any adult try to stop the persecution of Kenneth James Weishuhn? He died so I guess the answer is that no Good Samaritan came along to extend a hand of kindness to this tragic child.

Nothing can undo what was done to Kenneth James Weishuhn but perhaps his face can become the banner to unite all good people in a fight to stop this senseless evil from ever happening again to some other child who has the ‘misfortune’ to be born gay. Being gay is not a sin or a crime or a disease. It just is. Yes it is a difference but in the grand scheme of things it’s no bigger a difference than growing up to be short instead of tall. It is meaningless. If we must stigmatize difference then let it be the kind of difference that makes people cruel or aggressive or so full of hate that they can allow a child to die just because he is gay.

Stopping cruelty and hatred and bigotry is not really hard, all that’s required is a little more christian charity and whole lot less old testament bible thumping. Instead of vilifying gays at the dinner table why not explain that gays are people who love peope of the same sex instead of the opposite sex? Is that not the truth? And instead of spewing hatred from the pulpit why not talk about ‘loving thy neighbour as thyself’?

But let’s not stop there. Wouldn’t it be uplifting if all those militant moms against gays just did what all mothers are supposed to do – protect children, ALL children?

I would love to see One Million Moms putting out a statement saying how much they regret what happened to Kenneth James Weishuhn. And then I’d like to see all 40,000 of them make a pledge to start acting like real mothers. It all starts with us. That is our power. We can change the world. We can make it a better place for all children by just saying enough is enough.

Archangel – wild, wonderful music

I am having a truly wonderful day so I thought I’d do something I’ve never done before – share a piece of music :

I discovered Archangel yesterday while voting on a book trailer at Indies Unlimited. The background music to the trailer was Archangel and I fell in love with it on the spot, so much so that I had to find out who wrote it. I was astounded to learn that ‘Two Steps From Hell’ is not a band, it is the name of a production company started by two guys who found a way to fuse their love of music with a brilliant business model. Basically Thomas Bergersen [the one who does most of the composing] and Nick Phoenix make music for trailers, games and even movies. People loved their music so much that the company recently released two albums for the public. I’ve already bought one and it is so good I’m going to buy everything they release from here on in.

Music has always been important in my life but since I started writing fiction it has become as necessary as breathing. I’ve discovered that certain kinds of music break the link between my straitlaced technical writer mind and the dreamy, creative, anything goes person hiding inside. I started listening to Andrea Bocelli [who sings in Italian, a language I can't speak] but as the years rolled by I literally went through all my CDs looking for music that stirred me in that special way. I’ve written to the sound of opera, orchestral, movie soundtracks and the soundtracks to games. The only music I can’t write to is English vocals. If I can understand it I can’t use it

Now, thanks to TSFH I have amazing music to listen to again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Turn it up and set your mind free