He was my bear, a hulk, a mess of a man. Dark hair, sharp claws digging deep into my honey-hair. There was always a little part of me that was afraid of him, one swipe and my face would be slashed, my chest bruised, my arms aching. But he never hit me, not once. I had been with men like that, sneaking, small looking men. Men who had pinched and scratched my arms, men who hurt me with their sneering words. But my bear, gingerly balanced on his hind legs, his mouth opened in a snarl, never hurt me.
We would play, rolling through pine needles and mud. Sometimes it got a little rough, but he knew when to stop, he never took my ‘yes’ for granted. I was shorter than him, shorter than most people, so he was always careful. Yet, he did not treat me like a little piece of porcelain, easily broken and shattered. He knew a girl like me wasn’t like that. He could toy with me, make me get dirty knees and rough fingertips. I knew I was more beautiful now than I had ever been, leaves and grass caught in my hair, grime under my nails, clothes ripped and muscles lean and strong.
I did like our den, hidden away, south facing. A sweet scent of pine and the river, where he would go daily and get us fish, or hunt through the woods and bring back rabbit or deer. He always enjoyed his meat too rare, it was something I never grew to like. I would keep our cave clean, most days I had to change our bed; a pile of warm grass, lamb’s wool and herbs scattered amongst our bedding to keep the bugs out. Sometimes I’d decorate the cave with flowers, finding places for them in chipped mugs and glass jars. The bear wasn’t too keen on those, if he’d see them he’d just shrug his shoulders and grunt. I think secretly he liked my touches.
Then it was night, darkness creeping into the forest a lot quicker than in the town. The trees ink black spikes standing against a backdrop of navy blue night sky. There were so many stars here, I asked the bear to teach me their names. He only taught me two, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.
“What about the rest?” I said.
“They’re just stars, what does it matter? They don’t do anything.”
“But some people say…”
“Some people say a lot of things, don’t think they’re right by any means.” he rolled onto his back, while I twisted my fingers in his hair.
“You’re stubborn.” I smiled.
He turned his head to look at me, “Well noted, my girl.”
I traced the curve of his ear, “I love you, my bear.”
He grunted and shut his eyes as though he would sleep, though his smile was honey sweet. I knew he would never say it. “Sleep girl.” he said.
“Goodnight, bear.”
He chuckled and buried his nose into my hair.
He got caught in the glen, an iron trap catching his leg and making him howl with pain. I heard him and dropped my basket; smears of red berries on my feet, where I stepped on the fallen fruit. I ran through the woods, my heart thumping painfully and my muscles burning. I crouched down when I saw them, the men with their guns and laughing smiles, the dogs barking and pouncing at my bear. One man walked forward, the low brim of his cap hiding his face,
“Where’s the girl?”
“I don’t know.”
I flinched when the man slammed his boot into my love’s face, the bones crunched underneath and my bear spat out blood.
“Where is she?” the man hissed.
“I don’t know.” growled my bear. He stared the man down, hands tightening into fists.
“Well,” the man smirked, “She won’t survive for long without you, will she?”
My bear didn’t look at him, “She’s a lot tougher than you think, dog.”
I did not feel very strong when his head whipped round at the force of the man’s punch, my poor bear’s lip was split, his nose broken and still he looked up at the man.
“We’ll go, the little fool can starve.”
I watched them leave. A crow cawed at the darkening sky and I felt the cold silence of the wood press down on my ears. I didn’t wait to hear my bear howl. I followed the twilight creeping along the paths in the forest. I bit my lip hard, till a dribble of blood ran down my chin. The first thing he taught me was to keep walking. I kept walking till I couldn’t hear or see or feel anything. The world was dead. So was my bear.
Of course they aren't, they don't provide any value to society, they don't feed children or help the poor. The artists don't cure the sick or help the unemployed. They don't develop new technologies, medicines or fix the economy. What a fucking waste of time. The arts serve no purpose, if we had no arts we could continue as a society, we could still function. We wouldn't be wasting money on pointless art galleries or theatres, that really no one wants to go to.
And yet...if it is such a waste of time then why do we keep talking about the arts? Why does the Government and high ranking figures in Education insist, almost all the time, that the arts are a waste of time? They constantly tell us Universities and Businesses don't respect the arts, the arts don't pay well. If you tell family members you want a profession within the arts you get people raising their eyebrows, or look like they pity you, or they even voice their fears aloud.
"How will you make a living?"
"There aren't many jobs in that field."
"Perhaps something more secure would be more worthwhile."
And you have thought about these things and recognise the difficulties, if you've come this far, perhaps joining choirs, youth theatres, reading clubs or writing groups, practicing an instrument or sketching each night; having gone to University to study an art, and you're now facing the deep, dark pool of an unknown future within that field. You know how hard it can be, but you're willing to take the risks and push yourself all the way. You've watched friends and peers decide it's too hard, they can't go the distance, they aren't willing to push themselves through rejection, disappointment and frustration. The work is harder than expected, the criticism and refusals more difficult to cope with. And you are constantly reminded how worthless your degree is, how stupid your every day practice is, how useless the arts are.
But why? Society can survive on purely a basic level, if we stripped our societies of the arts, our bookshelves empty, our TVs blank, our magazines and newspapers empty white pages; our theatres, music halls, art galleries, libraries and cinemas all closed, we could exist. But what kind of existence? How much joy and hope could we find out in life? We would huddle in our homes and workplaces, grey and empty, there would be no pictures on the walls of course! It would be quiet, dull and then someone down the corridor would begin telling a funny story about what happened on Tuesday night, between so-and-so and so-and-so. People would gather, and laugh, and that person would be known as someone who could tell an excellent joke. They wouldn't know it, but they would be a storyteller.
And this is why the arts aren't important. Or why the Government wants the arts to be unimportant. When people gather to listen to a story, or even watch a dramatic retelling of a story. Or they sit alone and read a story, that does not always complies with the status quo and can suggest new ideas, ideas that are not Government approved, then there is danger and rebellion. When an Artist paints a picture, and people gasp with horror, or a film depicts an uncomfortable truth, that's the true working of Art. Sometimes, rather than having someone stand on a box and shout above the crowd, the arts can reveal the same thing and an audience will listen.
The Arts represent danger and truth, and if a Government can persuade us into thinking they are worthless and stupid, then people will start believing that. The truth is, we can survive without the Arts. However, we cannot live without them.
More deliciousness from the Hobbit at Home! This was a really good invented recipe made for my boyfriend and myself. We had left over venison burger, leftover sausages and leftover pizza sauce. So we were in a bit of a quandary of what to make for dinner, until someone on TV happened to mention meatballs! At this point my boyfriend's eyes lit up. So we put on a pan of pasta. I'm not going to be precise about how much we used, really make as much or as little as you need, the sauce and meatballs make enough for about four people though (we yet again have more leftovers)!
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First of all make a small bowlful of pizza sauce. Roughly about half a cereal bowl size is what you will need.
Pizza Sauce Ingredients
- Passata ~ For something like pizza, canned tomatoes tend to be too watery and tomato puree is too thick. So I go for Passata as it has the right consistency. - 1 tsp Mixed Herbs ~ Go for Italian or just normal. - Salt & Pepper ~ To Taste - 1 tsp Paprika - BBQ sauce ~ Optional.
Method:
Pour in enough passata sauce to fill half a cereal bowl. Add about 1tsp of BBQ sauce, the herbs, salt and pepper and paprika. Mix and viola!
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Now make the meatballs.
Meatballs Ingredients
- Four sausages (without the skin) ~ You can go for any you like, we just used basic pork. But that's what we had in the fridge at the time. - One venison burger ~ Again, this is what we had in my fridge, but if you know of somewhere that does good venison mince use about a small handful. You may need to add some more herbs and seasoning to boost up the flavour of the meatballs. - 1 tsp Smoked Paprika - I'm sorry, I'm a big Paprika lover and I love Smoked Paprika even more! If I can find a way to use Paprika, smoked or otherwise, in any recipe, then I will do! If it's not to your taste feel free to omit it. But it gives a lovely, smokey flavour to the meatballs. - 1tsp of Mixed Herbs - Salt and Pepper to taste
Method:
I make my meatballs by hand, because I lack the technology to do otherwise. But if you are so fortunate to have a mixer to do the work for you, then I envy you. But I do think it's easier to control the distribution of the herbs and spices within the meat, if you do it by hand.
First just break up the sausage and venison meat, then add the herbs and spices, mix well into the mince meat. Form into meatballs, you can decide on size, whether you prefer your balls big or small, just have a play around!
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Finally we get to the pasta and the pasta sauce. So make however much pasta you need. Now onto the pasta sauce.
Pasta Sauce Ingredients
- 1 can of Chopped Tomatoes
- 1 small Onion
- Handful of Spinach ~ My boyfriend would say omit the spinach, but I love spinach and being healthy.
- Pizza sauce ~ See above - 1 tsp Mixed Herbs
- 1 tsp Smoked Paprika
- 1 tsp of Sugar
- 1 tsp of Salt
- Salt and Pepper to taste ~ The extra Salt can be optional.
Method:
Heat a large frying pan or Wok with oil. Dice the onion. Having prepared the meatballs add them to the frying pan and brown one one side first, then gently turn over to prevent from falling apart. Add the onion and fry gently.
Add the pizza sauce and the chopped tomatoes to the pan, and turn the heat up slightly, till you have a low boil. But keep an eye on it. Add the salt and sugar to combat the acidicness of the can. Lower the heat to a simmer and go watch some crappy reality TV for 10-15 mins or so, till the sauce has thickened slightly. Add the herbs, spices and spinach. Et voila, pour the sauce and meatballs over your pasta. And Enjoy!
I get this question a lot, both from Pagans and Non-Pagans. Pagans tend to ask because it often leads to some interesting insights into a person's background, hobbies, beliefs, experiences and so forth. Non-Pagans tend to ask because they want to know why you decided to sign up to the Devil's email address! I am, of course, joking. Non-Pagans tend to ask because they often know very little about Paganism and are curious.
In all my experience with other Pagans, I've tended to see a good deal more thought and time spent on making a decision to be a Pagan. If you asked me why I became a Christian, I would say I didn't really have much choice in the matter. I attended a Church of England primary school, I sung hymns daily, read from the Bible and said my prayers. Everyone else was doing it and for the other Non-Christian kids they had to stay outside the Hall. Sometimes I thought they were lucky not to have to attend boring assemblies. Only now do I appreciate how lonely and isolating those times must have been for them. My religious education (if it can be called that!) was severely lacking. I know very little about Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism and a multitude of smaller faiths. The only thing I remember from primary school was a story about the Prophet Muhammad comforting a crying Camel, and then drawing a picture of that (which I have since learned you are not meant to do...Sorry).
When I went onto secondary school it did not get much better, more attention was paid to the stories of the Hindu religion, a basic view of Sikhism and constant Christianity throughout. As fascinating and beautiful as those stories are, and as interesting as Sikhism was, I would've preferred learning something more about the basic principles of all the religions. I live in a country with a wide range of different religions and cultures, the fact I know so little about any of them feels rather shaming to me.
But I digress, I'll return to my main explanation. There is rarely one reason why a person chooses to become a Pagan. Everyone will walk down a different path and take different ways. Being a Pagan, well being any minority, is often difficult and complex. There is no right or wrong way to discover Paganism or to be a Pagan. But first I shall give some simple reasons as to why and then go into more depth further along.
My Family
My Reading
My Experiences as a Christian
My Experiences as a Atheist/Agnostic
My Family
My father originally came from a Catholic background, with accordance to his Anglo-Irish heritage. I am unsure where along the lines he decided to abandon his Catholic faith, but he has always been fascinated by science. He is a firm believer in evolution, the big bang and gravity. He's always taught me to respect nature, to take long walks, to appreciate where the food on the dinner table comes from. Knowing that food doesn't start out as nice slabs of pink meat wrapped in plastic, is the start of respecting the Earth and what she provides.
He is rather critical of the Catholic Church due to the negative influence of the Church in Ireland. My Great-great Aunt was taken into a Catholic children's home, at the age of thirteen. We believe she was abused by the local Priest, became pregnant and was, of course, branded as a whore and blamed for her sinful nature. We know the nuns treated her awfully and forced her to give up the child. She was rescued by her sister, brought to England and it was never mentioned by my family again till much later.
My mother hasn't had much religious influence in her life. While my Granny has moments of suddenly remembering what a conservative Christian she is (I got in trouble for saying OMG!), they're both feminists, pro-choice, liberals. I've grown up around incredible, strong women. Half the time it's exhilarating and the rest terrifying, but it has made me who I am today and I will always be grateful for that. It got me the title of 'opinionated bitch who always has to be right.' or as I like to call it 'A Feminist'.
This caused a conflict between what I was being taught at home, and what I was being taught at school. While I was being taught at school to be a good girl, keep my legs crossed and wait till marriage, my mum was teaching me you can do whatever you like when you're older, as long as you keep yourself safe and healthy. While I was taught being a Christian was the only right thing to be, my mum and dad were teaching me all other religions were right too and didn't deserved to be belittled. While I wondered why there was slaves, infanticide and holy wars in the Bible, my parents were teaching me all these things were wrong.
My Reading
I read voraciously as a child. I especially adored Fairy Tales and Myths & Legends, I practically became addicted to Greek and Roman mythology. In my adult life I still enjoy reading mythology, and looking further into historical fiction and fantasy. I've also studied historical periods, essays on psychology, feminism, religion and so on. My reading has fueled my interest further while I progressed through college and then onto university. It has been something that has guided my reading of most texts. My reading of Ancient Greek texts lead to my beliefs in the Ancient Greek Pantheon. While my reading of the Bible highlighted the many issues and problems within, that I was not meant to view as problems when I was a Christian.
My Experiences
When I was a child I was bullied daily, I had petit mal epilepsy and social anxiety. I became heavily reliant on Christianity to save me from my predicament. At first my beliefs guided me to think that as I was such a good Christian that I should be saved, that I was deserving of saving. If Christians had to suffer then I was certainly suffering, therefore I would receive God's grace. I prayed every night, asking God to bless my mother, my father, my brother, to feed the hungry, heal the sick and to stop the bullies who found every possible way to make my life miserable. When this didn't happen my thought then turned to whether I had done something wrong. Perhaps even in a past life. God was punishing me because I had been wicked and I deserved what was happening. Even now as I write this, this train of thought seems absolutely fucking crazy. But it led me, combined with the bullying and the tiring and emotionally draining medication I was on, to become suicidal. I was nine years old and I believed God wanted me to feel that way. But I had no way out, as suicide was a sin.
Just before I left my school I decided God was not answering my prayers, there was no God willing to help me and so I became an Atheist at the age of ten. On my last day of school I received a Bible and I couldn't help thinking, as I shook my headteacher's hand, 'How ironic!' I left school and realised there was no one to help me, bar myself, my friends and my family. I could not rely on any God, I had to rely on myself. This is something I've taken beyond being an Atheist, as a Pagan I still see it as vitally important that a person is able to rely on themselves and not seek out some grand metaphysical being to deal with all their problems. But being a Pagan has taught me so much, that being a Christian did not. I've learnt that loving myself is not a sin of pride, but a necessary way of being happy with myself and others. I've learnt to be more open with other people's faiths, to not feel haughty and proud because my faith is apparently the right one! I am one faith among many others, that share the same name with mine. Paganism is just one religion among many, and no one is entirely right or entirely wrong. It has taught me the Earth isn't my inheritance, but a gift and one that needs a lot of care with help from everyone, not just other Pagans. And that is why I became a Pagan.
So while this film was released a while ago, I only got to see it in Easter with my brother. I'd never really heard of P. L. Travers, though I'm sure much to her chagrin, I had watched the Disney version of Mary Poppins and always loved it. Unlike many Disney films it is the one that holds a really special place in my heart, because whenever I went to see my granny, I would always watch Mary Poppins at her house. I was never an entire convert to Disney, unlike some of my friends. I wasn't keen on Sleeping Beauty, because I loved the original ballet, I never really watched Cinderella or Snow White, I only like Beauty and the Beast, because Belle read books and so did I!
Perhaps it's because I've always liked tragedy in stories, that the Little Mermaid left me unimpressed (where was the suicide? Where was the true heartbreak?) and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, became a Disney film I hated (the witchhunts, the madwoman, the nonacceptance of society of sexual relationships outside marriage, were all wiped out). You would be forgiven in calling me strange or even precocious, but then I adored Grimm fairy tales and Greek myths and legends when I was younger, so in many ways I can easily understand Travers' disgust of Disney's sweetening of traditional fairytales and the lessons to children that all they need is 'a spoonful of sugar!'
I'm not denying that there is something good about innocence and acceptance, which many children have, but there does seem to be now a bit of a backlash towards some of the more sugary, sweet stories. We have Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, the Hobbit and even some of the Disney films are getting darker in tone. Mary Poppins (film) still dealt with a distant father, too concerned with making money and keeping order, to really notice his children. The version of Mary Poppins in the book is rather different from the film version, who Travers certainly considered too trivial and sweet. But perhaps one of the things in the Mary Poppins film was how easy it was to identify with the film's protagonists. I have a younger brother, a feminist mother and at one point a father who became very distant from me and my brother.
With Saving Mr Banks this theme of redeeming a relationship with a father, became even more applicable to me. I certainly enjoyed the brilliant acting of Emma Thompson (Pamela Travers) and the witty one liners in the script, but what makes me weep without fail is Pamela's past with her family, and her father especially. For me, I can watch a dozen romances without shedding a tear, because I have not been in a similar situation and I always need to emotionally identify with a film before I cry. Having learnt a little more about the truthful account of Travers and her relationship with Disney, I realise there's a fair bit of sweetening, and bias in Disney's favour, for the sake of a happy ending. But I didn't expect an entirely truthful depiction, because this a biopic and not a documentary. And I am perfectly fine with that, because the story and acting are wonderful.
During my childhood, I had admired my father a lot, he is intelligent, creative and inventive. He taught me about birdwatching, gardening, read me stories and even made them up at times. He encouraged my imagination, my learning and my playtime. In the same way Pamela Travers/Helen Goff shares a similar relationship with her father. He has all the time in the world for her, loves her and urges her to pursue whatever it is she wishes to accomplish. But the need to make money at the bank he works at, and the sinking depression Travers Goff fell into, sours this relationship and those of the family.
The same happened to my family, soon my father was making money because he needed to, not because he wanted to. After every family outing or day out shared with my father I was expected to count every penny we had spent, even if I didn't want to, because I wanted to enjoy the day we had spent together. Sadly, this also happened around my teenage years, so I began to have less and less to do with my father. While I don't blame anyone, Pamela's feelings of guilt, reminded me of my own, because I winded up spending very little time with my father. When I watched the film I was reminded how much I had loved and respected my dad, but through our own mistakes we had driven each other away. Saving Mr Banks concerns the saving of all fathers, either if they mistakenly put money before their children's happiness or forget their own happiness with a need to make money. As the Sherman brothers so succinctly, and ironically, put:
You're a man of high position,
Esteemed by your peers.
And when your little tykes are crying,
You haven't time to dry their tears,
And see them grateful little faces,
Smiling up at you,
Because their dad, he always knows
Just what to do.
You've got to grind, grind, grind,
At that grindstone,
Though childhood slips like sand through a sieve,
And all too soon they've up and grown,
And then they've flown,
And it's too late for you to give,
Just that spoonful of sugar,
To help the medicine go down.
Pamela Travers certainly had a difficult past, which she tried (and in many ways failed) to hide away. I think really she didn't want a film to be made at all, and when it had to be, made the process as difficult as possible through her many complaints. Partly because of psychological trauma, partly loyalty to her books, but mostly because she wanted to. But for me the film means a whole lot more than a woman making a fuss over the movie interpretation of her book. It's the closest a film has come to representing my childhood and knowing I've been lucky to still have a chance to continue loving and admiring my dad, and knowing he still loves and admires me.
Today my friend was reading out a list, from a Metro article '27 things men do in bed that women hate', about all the many annoying things men do during sex. I couldn't help rolling my eyes and sighing out loud. But today I did manage to think of the most annoying thing I find concerning sex, which effects everyone.
1. Writing an article about all the annoying sex habits your partner has, instead of actually talking to them about it.
Delicate egos and one night stands aside, most men I've come across have been more than willing to make sure I was ok and enjoying every minute. If you're in a long term relationship with someone, then they should be aware of what makes you happy and what makes you unhappy. If you're too worried about whether their cock will shrivel up and die, by suggesting you don't like your hair being pulled, then maybe you should reconsider your attitude towards the relationship or theirs.
Plus any list that groups together heterosexual females in one category determining whether they like or dislike certain sexual activities, is rarely a good idea. For one, I have no problem with putting a man's condom on him or him asking whether I like something...Um, women of Metro, isn't that the whole problem? That these men don't ask you whether you like certain things. So here's my response.
1. Online Porn Site Sex Position - If they're so keen to do this, discuss it before you wind up doing a headstand or if you find something uncomfortable, just say so.
2. What face do I pull? - Well hopefully you'll be in the throws of pure pleasure. Or hell, just whatever comes naturally.
3. When they ask YOU to put the condom on - Just deal with it, like the mature, sexy woman you are. You don't want to get pregnant, condoms aren't particularly comfortable for men and if you've come this far then realise you're both part and parcel of this.
4. Spanking - Saying 'Ow, that hurt.' tends to work. Unless you enjoy D/S or BDSM, but if you do you should have an alternative safe word.
5. When they stop - You're not going to get a vaginal orgasm every time, so don't worry too much about this. Don't blame each other. If you have the stamina, have a rest and see if you can continue.
6. Asking “do you like that?” - I fail to see the problem here. He's being nice. Jesus, give the guy some slack!
7. Gag reflect - Hand at the base of the penis, means even if he pushes your head further down, you still have control.
8. Stripping - You're one sexy lady, maintain eye contact, smile confidently, laugh if you make a mistake. More you worry about it, the worse it gets.
9. Online Reading - See No.1
10. Bum - See No.1/No.4
11. Dragging it out - See No.6
12. Going down on you in the morning - Say you're not in the mood and suggest showering together.
13. Putting their fingers everywhere - Pull his hands to a particular place on your body or ask him to touch you somewhere.
14. Sticking objects in you - See No.1/No.4
15. Anal Sex - See No.1/No.4
16. Aggressive Foreplay - See No.1/No.4
17. Nipple biting - See No.4
18. Pulling your hair - See No.4
19. Baggy boxers - Whoop Xmas Present.
20. Man stubble - If it's uncomfortable, tell him.
21. 69 - See No.1 Tell the truth.
22. Fried chicken before a blow job - Um...avoid fried chicken before bed?
23. Rushing foreplay/27 seconds - See No.1/No.5/Tell him.
24. Wanting to ejaculate on your face - See No.1
25. Being passive aggressive when they can’t make you orgasm - See No.5
26. Trying to remove underwear with their teeth - Ok...that's kind of weird. But maybe it floats some people's boats.
27. Not cleaning properly - Shower/bathe together. Two birds, one stone!
Point is, sometimes these things may turn some people on and sometimes they won't. If something is bothering you, then just freaking tell your partner. Do it nicely, but sheesh! If you want them to stop doing something, they're not going to read your fucking mind and realise you don't like it. If you feel uncomfortable broaching the topic of sex, then maybe you should consider your whole relationship to sex. Sex is and should be wonderful, it can be passionate, loving, hot as hell, it can also be awkward and funny. But it shouldn't be painful or uncomfortable for very long. Do yourself and your partner a favour by being honest with what you want, what you like and what you don't like. It pays off in the end.
Frozen has become central for debates regarding feminism, a potential new era for Disney and dividing people down the line. So what I'm here to argue is...it's a middle ground. I'm not going to argue it's really revolutionary, because how long do we have to wait before we get both a decent strong female character and a strong plot? We seem to get stuck in a situation of either/or and it's frustrating. There have been loads of great Disney/Pixar films regarding male leads and their adventures, e.g Wreck it Ralph, Ratatouille, Toy Story. But when it comes to female leads and their adventures, the plots tend to fall flat or rely on the old 'and they fall in love and live happily ever after.' trope.
There's something that's always bugged me about Brave, for example, and up until recently I couldn't quite work out what that was. Then I sort of realised. Despite the ending culminating in Merida forming a better relationship with her mother and her mother letting her hair down (pun entirely intended!), we're still being taught that a girl with an adventurous, bold streak will end up being in trouble. Brave has the two wonderful characters of Merida and Elinor, it questioned the bond between mother and daughter, but had this been about a boy seeking acceptance from his father I can't help thinking the plot would have been different. Would he be almost 'punished' for his adventurous, daring streak? And as usual we get the whole marriage theme (albeit Merida not wanting to marry at all).
But her adventure falls flat, because in reality she doesn't change her fate at all. The will o' the whisps and the witch do. Yes, she might have avoided the loathsome issue of marriage, but when we really think about it, Merida has no real say over her journey. In a similar vein to Ratatouille, Merida wants to go on an adventure to find out more about the world, her passions in life and the choices she has to make. But unlike Remy, she really ends up with little say about this, because rather than the adventure being important, it is still her family and her responsibilities as a Princess that are important, not Merida herself. Does she wind up with the choice to remain single? For some reason, I doubt it. Young MacGuffin's apparent gibberish in the film, is actually Scottish Gaelic, and what he does say at one point is 'The Princess should decide who she marries.' This may imply that despite Merida's timely escape from marriage for now, she will still have to marry someone in the future. Because the stability of the surrounding kingdoms rely on her eventually becoming a brood mare.
Another issue I'm taking with Disney films is the amount of boys. I appreciate that may sound wrong, but let's look at every single heroine who has had to be surrounded by a gang of guys (or at least male gendered counterparts). Rapunzel, from Tangled, had Flynn/Eugene, Pascal and Maximus; Tiana, from the Princess and the Frog, had Prince Naveen, Louis and Ray; Pocahontas had John Smith, Flit and Meeko; Anna, from Frozen, had Kristoff, Sven and Olaf...hmm, I'm noticing a pattern here! It's apparently impossible for a female lead to get from A to B, without one potential love interest and two goofy sidekicks. No way we can drop just one for a female sidekick? Who could talk maybe? No...? Ok.
But it does mean, apart from one, often naive or even foolish woman, that young girls have no one to identify with. Even those females with a grain of sense and determination are seen as foolish. Tiana is told her dream of owning a restaurant won't mean anything without a man at her side. Whether she met someone or not, I am certain her father would be damn proud of her. I felt cold, when her exclamation of needing to work harder to gain her dream, was treated with ridicule. Her hard work and no nonsense attitude should be seen as admirable, not as idiotic. We shouldn't regard Tiana as lacking something, because she has no romantic inclination at the time. If we compare it with another film, regarding the same desire of owning a restaurant and cooking. Ratatouille focuses more or less on Remy's desire to cook. Yes, he's told he's a fool, but he defends his dream to the hilt. But the thing is I don't recall Remy being told his dream of owning his restaurant would mean nothing without a female rat by his side.
During Christmas last year, I attended a Carol Service at the beautiful Bath abbey. It's a gorgeous Church, the stain glass windows are beautiful and it's a wonderful building with so much history. The first official King of England was crowned there.
With the lovely Christmas lights and atmosphere, it was a wonderful evening. The choir was made up of Bath Spa University music students, who sung absolutely beautifully and as soon as I got home, on my laptop, I praised their efforts and the incredibly welcoming atmosphere on Facebook. I received several comments from friends who hadn't been able to go or had been part of it. But one that really stood out was a Pagan friend, who left just one word:
Traitor.
Cue my horror and my Christian's friends anger. I never felt I was betraying any part of my religion or deceiving my Christian friends around me. I used to love singing as part of my Christian choir in primary school. I love Churches for their architecture, their design and beauty. The solemnity and peace that can be found in Churches, is the same when I decorate my alter for Pagan festivals. I did not say the Lord's prayer, because I'm not a Christian, so I wouldn't pray to a God I no longer put my faith in. But I didn't go to the Abbey because I was a Christian or wanted to be one again. I had a lovely time with my friends and appreciated the readings, the music and the singing. There is a sense of togetherness in Churches, that can be sometimes hard to find or replicate in Paganism, because the Pagan friends you make in your own country are few and far between. The ones you meet online, living in different countries, provide support and knowledge. But I know it is not quite the same thing as a Christian Church.
Sometimes, I don't always feel welcome in a Church or as though I really belong there. When I visit my Polish cousins, and go to their Catholic Orthodox Church; I am left feeling nervous and uncomfortable, while I watch an old lady smooch up with Jesus (it's an Easter thing*). But I think that is more down to me and not so much because anyone there would treat me badly. There are Christians who have offended me, but more often it is out of ignorance or pride, rather than any real bad intent.
I feel appreciating other people's religions and cultures does not make me, or anyone else a traitor to their own faith or culture. In the same way, I listened to two young women having a conversation. One of the women was clearly a Christian (C) and the other was of Asian (A) decent. And it saddened me, more than I can say, to hear the Christian girl being so dismissive of other people's cultures and religions (even when she had not met this hypothetical person).
C: I could never marry someone of a different religion. I have to get married in a Church. A: Not even if you really loved them? C:...Well, their religion would have to be similar to mine or they would have to convert. A: You could get married in a Church and then in whatever religious building they wanted to get married in. C:...Yes...But what about our kids? Christmas would be really awkward if he didn't celebrate Christmas. A: But pretty much everyone celebrates Christmas. Even I celebrate Christmas. C: Yeah, but you don't celebrate it for the religion. A: Not many people do. I like Christmas because of the family time, the decorations, the lights, etc. It's a wonderful time.
So this hypothetical person may not exist, but I can't help thinking how religion creates a terrible divide like this. For many people it doesn't, and for everyone it shouldn't. Even if there is a paradise beyond our earthly lives now, that shouldn't mean we are divided from people we could consider our friends, our neighbours and our loved ones. To cut yourself off from other people and other cultures, isn't a sign of strength, it's a sign of fear and weakness. By walking into a Church or any other religious building, we are proving that we wish to understand those around us and learn to appreciate a different culture that may be vastly different from our own. Pagans, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus by doing this we are proving to ourselves and others there is nothing to fear from one another, and that the monsters are more often of our own making.
How long? How long do I have to wait before I see a version of Greek Mythology that has not been Christianised within an inch of its life? Seriously, Hollywood, stop pissing me off...Well maybe not just Hollywood. I'm seeing a whole lot of this going on. And new Hercules...um...Gladiators?! Stop putting f***ing Gladiators in Ancient Greek films/tv shows.
Ah, hello readers. I shall calm myself and structure this into a proper argument.
As a Pagan, I am getting increasingly annoyed with how my beloved Gods are portrayed. Yes, I get it. You can't have a man-whore Zeus, a callous and jealous Hera and a not-quite-a-villain Hades in a Disney film. That's understandable. And in a way, as a writer, I completely understand new interpretations of Greek mythology; that has gone on for years and there are multitudes of different stories (some we probably don't even know about)!
I guess it's just all the romanticising that goes on. Myths aren't meant to be nice little fairytales (even fairytales aren't always fairytales - check out the original Brothers Grimm stuff, f***ing hell!). The main thing that's bugging me, is the way my friends (who aren't pagans or fountains of literary mythology knowledge), assume they know more than me about Greek mythology because they've read Percy Jackson or seen Atlantis (BBC TV Series). And all I can really do is sit there and shake my head. Because in reality, they only know the bastardised version of Greek mythology. The one that's been painted and preened till it's more wholesome and easier to swallow.
One of the reasons I chose to follow the Ancient Greek Gods, wasn't to be cool or unique, it was because they were more human than the Christian God I had followed. They weren't pinnacles of morality or righteousness. Half the time they did not stop the monsters, they caused them. Perhaps there's an immorality and a chaotic nature within me, that innately calls to that idea of passion and chaos. I don't want life to be easy and uncomplicated, where's the fun in that? You might say I am asking for trouble. Maybe I am, but the last thing I want in life is to live out a path that really means very little, either to myself or anyone else.
So in a way, I don't want to see my Gods neatened and dressed up, till they fit within a nice little Christian theme. Stop telling me and others that there is only good and evil. That for those of us who aren't 'evil', we won't ever become it or be able to understand it. And for those of us who are, there's really no escape from that path. Stop changing my view of life and death, for yours. I don't want to see your view of Hell, as my view of the Underworld. The respect and companionship we once had with Death, is now irrevocably changed. We now fear the expected, which is madness, yet we waste this current life worrying about it. Stop telling me that the Mother should be sweet and kind, the Father brave and resourceful and the Devil is without goodness.
I want my Paganism to be shown fully on TV and Films, without frills or censorship. I want there to be more than archetypes and stereotypes. And for once in all my life, I don't want to see Gladiator fights on an Ancient Greek film. Get those men entirely naked and running round a field! Or wrestling. I don't care, just make sure they're naked, check your historical facts first and then go to the myths for inspiration. There's nothing wrong with new stories and ideas, I just want some of my religion left behind when I see the final product and not a sweetened version of it.
For those of you that don't know about being extroverted or introverted, Carl Jung (a psychoanalysis dude) created the two types of basic personality. Introverts are more likely to find comfort in being by themselves, not having vast amounts of face-to-face, social interactions and enjoying pastimes like reading, writing, puzzles, hiking and other sports activities that require steady thinking and logic. Extroverts, on the other hand, enjoy a lot of social interaction (including web-based socialising), but they prefer face-to-face; they're more likely to enjoy risk-taking and being involved in large group activities. This isn't going to be an article lamenting the follies and perceived superficiality of an extrovert. I am an introvert, but I'm going to try and keep myself reminded of how all extroverts are human! And that they will find my preferred lifestyle, hobbies and frame of mind, really weird.
It has to be said though, there's a lot of negativity when it comes to being either introverted or extroverted. As I said, if you're extroverted everyone will assume your fake, superficial, popular bitch who likes to party every night and never get any work done. But don't worry, you can smooth talk your teacher and get away with it! If you're introverted, then you've clearly got a mental disorder, can't function as a human being and like spending more time with your sock puppets, than actual people.
And let's leave those stereotypes at the door. We've got to wonder why we have these two personality types still present in the world. If so much of our work/school/social life depends on us being extroverted, then why do we still have introverts? Because human life needs introverts, otherwise we'd consider it an evolutionary fail and get rid of it. Likewise, we need the people who can explain what we're going to do, how we're going to do it and gets the ball rolling. Extroverts are important too.
But there now seems to be a big celebration for the introverts out there, especially on the internet and more so, on places like Tumblr. There are so many blog posts on myths about introverts. Introverts don't have social anxiety disorder, they're not nervous or shy, it's just we reach a point where we say 'Ok...that's enough. No more socialising today, I've filled up my quota.' Introverts are generally considered nerdy and we fulfill the general nerdy stereotypes. Which is why I think there's such an abundance of them on places like youtube and tumblr. But how many extroverts are on tumblr? There may be a fair few on youtube and certainly on facebook or twitter, but are there that many on the main place for fandom related blog posts, political sentiment and overwhelming nerdiness?
I didn't particularly understand what extroversion was, until quite recently. Being an introvert I tended to gravitate towards people who had similar mindsets to mine. Being an extrovert is, in many ways, completely incomprehensible to me. I am honestly impressed with anyone who can keep up that level of socialising and not get exhausted. Don't get me wrong, I certainly like talking as much as the next person, but I love talking even more when it's about something really political or about the great themes of life. I want to talk about literature, history, psychology, philosophy and the dramatic arts, not about so-and-so's new boyfriend or the weather or what I want for dinner. Unless we're discussing the best baking techniques...but that's a whole different ball game. Not to say, extroverts can't or won't talk about the bigger things in life, they're just more likely to talk about the little things as well. I am introverted, so I will have something of a bias towards introversion, but there's no right/wrong way of thinking or behaving.
Two of my housemates are clearly introverted, although they are charming around other people and can talk easily about any ideas they have. My third housemate is an extrovert. She can't stand quietness. Either she's talking to us or listening to her music or watching TV shows/films. When the topic of introversion and extroversion came up, she expressed how she couldn't bear to be alone for long periods of time, but how my other housemates agreed with me when we said we needed a time to recharge our batteries. While she finds working alone difficult and stressful, we find it the ultimate way to calm down, relax and think about new ideas. If someone seeks her out to talk, she will happily drop everything to do so. I could've probably quite easily murdered her, when she interrupted me while I was trying to write a poem.
But with this in mind, my parents would often lament in my teenage years, saying 'You don't see anyone enough. You don't talk to people enough.' and I was like 'Yes I do...what's facebook for?' I wasn't being a miserable, grumpy teenager (well...not entirely!), but I didn't understand how I would have to go to school for roughly six and a half hours; often spending time with people, whose company I did not enjoy, then be expected to spend my weekends socialising with people I would see the week after. For an introvert, this kind of thing is crazy. Let's do the maths!
If we spend 32.5 hrs per five days, being with people we both like and dislike talking to. Quite a large chunk of that time is spent socialising. 48hrs where we can solely spend time by ourselves or with our family seems quite a reasonable exchange. However, my mum who is extroverted and my dad who has created the persona of an extrovert, didn't understand this at all and it would often explode into me saying 'Because I don't like people!' Now, having read more on being an introvert and accepting this, I can now reasonably state that I do like people. I just don't like spending too much time with people. My introverted friends and I do meet up, but you're less likely to find us in a club, and more likely to find us curled up on the sofa, eating pizza and watching a good film. And no one overstays their welcome!
And that's why Tumblr is an amazing place for both socialising and not socialising. It fulfills the introvert's need for quiet time, deep thinking and talking with others. But it led me to wonder are there many extroverts on here? I'm certain some extroverts do enjoy Tumblr, but with their need to talk and be busy, are they around very often? If I was an extrovert, I would probably get annoyed with the amount of flack I get for being the way I am and how introversion is perceived as somehow nobler on the internet. I do think the internet is becoming a place for introverts, but that doesn't mean we should treat our extroverted cousins with disdain and label them with false stereotypes.
We've grown to be frustrated with a world that perceives our silence as ignorance, our steady tread as overly cautious and our inability to sell ideas as an inability to have no ideas. So let's not assume extroverts cannot become excited and passionate about ideas, just as much as we can. Even if they're busy networking in the real world right now, we should still keep the internet open for them too.
I am at the cutting stage,
The moment of back and forward,
A slicing of rope.
The soft nakedness of darkness,
Sweet, purple skies and the moon shattered into glass,
A light beyond all trees and sound,
The poisoned leaves scratching soft winds.
Your eyes are the colours of the world,
The small captivity of nature held in those great hands,
Please don’t break.
We see everything caught, held in a moment
Glistening reflection.
Those false colours.
Hold onto the grass, till you slip.
There is something dead in the golden wheat,
A cup of festering sweetness.
A ship caught on the tides of the sand,
So we must carry the moon.
Our music held within the trees and played forever and ever
and ever and ever.
It cannot be lost.
But will still be.
They say we fall, because Eve’s tears slipped downwards.
The light shall shine on that tree,
On that deadened rock.
Let the sun shine across the marshes.
Till that moment of reflection
Something I'm really excited about for next year is a module on my English Literature course called Evil and Literature. Oh my lords, I am so... Indescribably excited. I absolutely love evil characters. Now there's nothing wrong with Mr (or Miss/Mrs/Ms). Mustache-twiling-cape-wearing-evil-doer, but one thing I'm growing to love in the modern age is our absolute need to understand and comprehend the enemies we face in literature (and to extent the world around us). We want to understand what it is to be evil, why a person turns evil, could we sympathise with evil and be evil ourselves, and is there anything we can do to prevent evil?
Now I may have got this wrong, (in which case, I need to read the module handbook again), but I read we can do our own exploration in literature and look at a book of our own choosing. So one of the books I would love to look at is Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. If you've only heard of the musical, get your fine derriere down to a bookshop or go on amazon and buy it! It's a fantastic book, really well crafted, with many political, social and psychological allusions. It questions society's ability to deliberately misunderstand someone's intentions, particularly if that person wants to change the society they're in. It looks at political activism, as well as apathy, social conformity and individuality. Don't get me wrong, the musical is fantastic, but in a way it saddens me that the book has kind of received less attention due to the musical being so popular. As with any book and a transferal to stage or screen, the musical misses out on a lot of these crucial ideas or skims over them. Understandable, because it would probably be a very boring musical if they tried to look at them in more depth. But I highly recommend the book.
It is an odd thing in the Wizard of Oz (which I still absolutely adore and used to watch every time I went over to my Granny's), I loved Dorothy (admittedly because I look a little bit like her and really wanted to play that role if I ever got the chance). But I also loved the Wicked Witch of the West. I was never entirely sure why, it wasn't that she was evil. More that she didn't give a damn. I think I like villains who really couldn't give a damn whether you thought they were evil or not. And maybe I have a thing for Witches too.
The White Witch of the Narnian Chronicles and The Grand Witch from The Witches, have always been amongst my favourite female villains. Though both terrified me. The White Witch with her ice cold beauty, fearsome temper and her willingness to sacrifice a young boy. The Grand Witch with her ruthless plan, the way she treated other Witches and just the way she looked was horrifying. We are taught to instinctively fear these women, especially when they consider the murder of children or young people, because it goes so against a perceived feminine nature. But there is something innately fascinating about these female characters and I think that's the reason why when I wrote my Jack the Ripper script, There is Only Hell, I chose a female anti-hero to be my Jack. Cathie is an abortionist and a midwife, both the devil and an angel in the Victorian London streets. When her lover is killed and she seeks revenge, her actions are both understandable and extreme.
Tilda Swinton...You are amazing!
Holy Hell! I forgot how scary this film was!
This would probably be illegal nowadays!
Male villains never bothered me that much. Maybe because there's a leaning in society that suggests due to women's volatile and passionate natures, you don't have to explain so much about the why, the what and the how. That in the role of the Wicked Witch and the Dangerous Seductress, we don't have to bother explaining about what makes a woman evil. Though most people would probably consider that lazy story telling. But I have noticed with male villains there's a tendency to go into great detail about what makes them evil.
We looked at Witches, so let's look at a Wizard. The greatest, evil Wizard of our time. I probably don't even have to say his name. It's You Know Who. The Witches above don't really represent the tragic villain, they just are evil. But Voldemort took a path which ultimately made him evil. His desire to replicate a similar feeling of love and being wanted, lead him to his desire to become a ruler over and of Death. In a way Harry and Voldemort create a reflection of one another. We can see how they represent the polar opposites, yet the similarities of one another are undeniable. Harry's popularity and then growing isolation, reflect Voldemort's isolation and then popularity amongst his peers. Their desire to find a place where they both belong are symbolised in Hogwarts, but Harry's emotional belonging is due to his friends and the love he feels for those who are close to him; Voldemort's is constantly represented in materialistic items, first Hogwarts, then the Horcruxes.
It was this materality that I wanted to represent in my own fanfiction of A Simple Rose, which depicts Voldemort's ancestor Salazar Slytherin. In one scene, he and Helga are discussing a wild rose plant.
My fingers curled round several unopened, green buds and I couldn’t hide my childish smile on seeing the small, sharp pink-red thorns. I was hoping for a pale white blossom. A long fingered, elegant hand rested near mine and I looked up to Salazar examining the plant.
“I do not recognise this. It is no magical plant or herb, I take it?”
I grinned, “Nay, this is a simple wild rose. Found all over this isle.”
He frowned further, “Then what is its use?”
I carefully inspected the leaves for blight or insects, but was content with what I saw, “Alas, it has none. It is but a flower to look fair and smell sweetly. Though there are some who say it relieves aches, especially those of the stomach, yet mint and wormwood work better.”
“Then why grow it at all?” his dark eyes near glared into mine, and I almost took a step back as though I feared him, yet what I felt was not fear in its entirety.
It begins the discussion of purpose ('oh not that again!' some people cry who have read my previous blogpost - don't worry, it won't be as in depth as last time). Helga admits that her joy is 'childish', but her joy is profound and she shows a respect for life from the beginning. It doesn't matter whether she considers the life is without purpose or reason, to her it is still beautiful. Salazar, on the other hand, wants its purpose and if it has none, then he considers you shouldn't grow it at all. It is this desire that leads to him desiring control above everything else, controlling the people around him and thus controlling the muggle-born population in Hogwarts.
Let's now look at an absent villain, or a more symbolic one. In Tolkien's Lord of the Rings the power of Sauron is never directly represented in a fully formed villain (except for in the Silmarillion and the Appendixes, etc). We never see him. We see his henchmen and hear their voices. Saruman is the unknown Wizard in the forest, the Hierophant, a person who can claim all spiritual and earthly knowledge, a power we cannot know or question. The Orcs represent what we may become if we lose all dignity, respect and humanity; Tolkien's depiction of Orcs being produced from tortured Elves, represents the two opposite spheres of knowledge, grace and beauty, contrasting with ignorance, malice and ugliness. Both represent ideas of what we could become. The Ringwraiths again represent this, but on a more human level, showing mankind's ability to fall when tempted by power. In looking at this interpretation, we could argue that Eowyn's defeat of the WitchKing was even more symbolic than the book suggests. It is a woman that defeats male fear, obsession and temptation.
The Lord of the Rings film trilogy gives the audience the opening introduction, narrated by Galadriel. We see Sauron, whereas in the books we don't; but in films this becomes a necessity in a way. Absent villains work better in books, where the reader uses their imagination to create the villain in their mind and Sauron is more of an ideological villain, than a real one. But on the screen this can only go so far, films are a visual medium and so we visually need to see the villains. It's quite tricky to work out what is scary about a tower and a ring. Hence why there are so many supporting villains, ranging from small ones like Grima Wormtongue and Denethor, to larger villains like the Uruk hai and the Ringwraiths. But when there are scenes that focus on the ring and the tower, all of our senses have to be used in the best way possible. The Ringwraiths look and sound scary, you probably could get away with not having any sound and they would still look scary, or hear that blood-curdling cry and not see them, and they'd still be terrifying. Without any sound for the Ring...it would look like a very non-frightening ring.
In this scene, Frodo is about to destroy the ring. The music is building, we're all getting very excited, because this is the moment the entire trilogy has been building up to. Sam is getting more and more desperate, Frodo is going a bit nuts, etc. When the camera has a close shot of the ring, the music cuts out, we get this high pitched noise (almost like the ringwraiths' scream), a whispering and the flashes of light. The swaying backwards and forwards, not only reminds us of Frodo's decision, but almost makes the ring look alive. It is through this visual and auditory format that the villain is represented, the villain of the ring and of Frodo's mindset. But even in this ending, we get another two visual stand-ins. We have Gollum fighting Frodo and then we cut back to Aragorn fighting the troll (I think it's a troll). What's interesting was how, originally, they were going to have Aragorn fighting Sauron. But ended up cutting this out as the ending is not really about Aragorn defeating evil, but Frodo. The unlikely underdog destroying the epitome of all evil, rather than the rightful King claiming his inheritance and defeating the bad guy as would normally happen in most stories.
So this is something I certainly can't wait to study in more depth and I am looking forward to my third, and final, year at University.
Warning: Contains swearing and Hannah getting grumpy, but mostly in the latter paragraphs.
As usual my title is one of naturally stirring the pot and getting people talking. But I am religious. Am I a Christian? Nope. Am I a Jew? Nope. Am I Hindu? Nope. Am I a Pagan? Yes! I have been for seven years now, so don't start giving me the 'It's just a phase.' spiel. And while we're on this point, no I don't worship the Devil, I just don't worship your God(s). My particular choice in gods are the Greek Pantheon. I'm also a Witch (not a Wiccan or a dance naked round a campfire, ride a broom, have the devil suck on my tit witch), but this blog post has less to do about that.
One of the questions that I keep hearing, more so when it's Christians asking Atheists/Agnostics (sorry, it's just where I live and who I happen to be friends with, etc, I'm sure if I knew more people of other faiths, I'd also hear them saying it), is 'What do you believe in, if you don't believe in God?' Which, I always find a really strange question, even though I have a religious faith.
Perhaps it has more to do with Paganism than I think, that my religion teaches me this life is just as precious as the one beyond it. That everything has reason and validity to certain people, but just because one set of people don't find joy or purpose in something I do, that doesn't make it any less important. But we all exist on this earth, we should all make the best attempt we can to protect it and protect those we love, we should give respect and safe guarding to strangers who do us no wrong, even if they have different opinions or religions.
However, I would feel tempted to argue that to me, having a sole purpose in life is both unrealistic and a waste. My Gods don't give me purpose, my friends don't give me purpose, my family doesn't give me purpose, my reading and writing doesn't give me purpose. I give myself purpose. And all those things, altogether give my life purpose. I could easily believe in my gods, sit on my arse and do fuck all with my life. It wouldn't give me purpose. I could easily be an Atheist (I once was), make great contributions to society and have a wonderful family life. And it would be the most purposefully driven life I could live. Death wouldn't frighten me, because I would know I'd already done everything I could possibly wish to do.
That's why I find this question strange, because to me, life is not about one thing or the other. Is anyone solely a Christian? Or solely a Jew? Or solely a Muslim? Etc? No, I'd doubt that highly, unless you were completely fanatical. There's much more to everyone than simply belief. Are you a Mother? Or a Father? Are you a Student? Or a Teacher? Are you a Reader? Or a Writer? A Poet? A Singer? A Scientist?
Humans are all too keen in labelling things, putting them in boxes and stacking them neatly on the shelf. But hey, sometimes the corner of the boxes bend, sometimes there's too much stuff in a box and parts of it fall out, sometimes the person labels the box wrongly. And by believing that someone who has no faith, has no belief, is as detrimental to them as it is to you. If we all assumed based solely on one human difference, that there was no way to create a friendship from that, none of us would be able to get along in any way.
I used to be a Christian, and stupidly, I did think myself in some ways superior. I don't speak on behalf of all Christians and there are plenty of people who don't think this way. But I had this crazy belief that I was holier than most people, my closeness with God meant I was better than most people and in a way, I was kind of taught by my Church that not having God in my life would mean my life was a wasted effort. That nothing I did would have any real value. By having God in my life I had validation for everything I was going to do.
BOLLOCKS TO THAT!
For anything to have any real value or purpose in the first place, you, as a person, have to believe it has value and purpose. Why do I write? Does anyone really care what I have to say, either in fiction or non-fiction? Will it ever be published or produced? Will I achieve a form of national or international success? Fuck only knows. But I don't ever write with those things in mind. I write because I need to write. Because it's like breathing and eating and sleeping to me.
Generally, doing anything with a 'I'm doing this because...' in mind is a way of dismissing your work and achievements. It happens so often when Government education programs dismiss the arts, because being creative, working within a team and researching apparently adds nothing to society. It made me want to scream during A-Level Drama, because apparently knowing in detail about historical periods, psychology/sociology, literature, music, politics was completely useless according to Gove and his cronies. And we constantly end up having to explain that 'No, Drama is not a soft subject.' and that I had to do ten times more research in Drama, because it focused on how I would interpret a staged production, what I would do differently if I set it somewhere else. I had to research all of the above subjects and not only with a focus on drama, I explored Elizabethan society in depth and Greek mythology. Yet, apparently, according to people who want my A-Level to be meaningful to them, all I did was fuck around in class and pretend to be a tree.
So many people get put off from doing something, because they have to explain it and validate it to other people who don't care about it, aren't interested in it and never will be. Fuck validation and fuck purpose, fuck belief and fuck value. You shouldn't have to explain why you like crocheting or studying geology or baking or not worshiping any God. Belief is important, only when it is belief in yourself and things beyond yourself that are important to you. We don't need other people or a higher power to validate the work we do by accepting it. You can have a belief in God, there is nothing wrong with that at all, but you should always have other beliefs beyond that.
So today I was lying on my bed, being ill, and thinking to myself 'What's the most dangerous title I can use on the internet...?'
I'm joking! And the title is only partly true. Why does nobody care about fanfiction? Being a Lit and Creative Writing student, in all honesty, I'm surprised people don't notice it more. It's a powder keg of imagination and amazing ideas...and most people are just like 'Fanfiction...girly fantasies...probably with a Mary Sue or two and some smut." Now, I'll admit it, some fanfictions are like that and I may have read one fanfiction that was like that...or two...The point is, while there is some truly god damn awful stuff that makes me want to cry and tear out my eyeballs; there is also some really exceptional literature on there. And a lot of that work deserves a mainstream audience and deserves to be published. Now I don't often say to people their work deserves to be published, because I'm a critical bitch like that (seriously, I used to relish reading my friends' essays and getting out my red pen...it's like a nerd high). But for those of you who did get the 'This should be published' comment, that's the highest Hannah accolade you can achieve! So well done to you guys for achieving that if you have done.
It saddens me that a good deal of the fanfiction universe is dismissed as delusional. Having written a lot of fanfiction, I often feel that I can't bring it up amongst my family or friends (even those who are writers and love the fictional universes created in the books they are reading). It's seen as a waste of time, not only by family and friends, but by critics and authors as well. Which is ironic, seeing as how popular sequels and prequels are in mainstream publishing, even if they're not written by the original author. I still feel ashamed of writing any of my fanfiction, because I've been told it's not worth anything. I can't show it to a publisher, I can't show it to a teacher or even my parents. I can only share it amongst people who are just as passionate about a fictional universe as I am, some of them I've never even met in the flesh before. Fanfiction should be a compliment to an author (unless you're doing some truly whacky stuff with the characters). It means an author's story didn't just linger in that person's mind, they pursued it and explored multitudes of different stories, characters, beginnings and endings. We all to easily lament children's unwillingness to read or write, yet when they are inspired by a book, film, tv show and want to write because of that, we then treat their efforts as futile and a waste of time because it isn't completely original. Let's face it, not even Shakespeare was original, some of his best work was 'borrowed' from another writer! Romeo and Juliet, Othello, etc. And his work was often better than the original writer. Romeo and Juliet stopped being a morality tale of 'This is what happens when you disobey your parents, you die' story to 'The greatest romantic tragedy ever told.'
Yet fanfiction is one of the most amazing steps in internet communication and uniting people within a fandom. Unlike mainstream publishing and media communications, fanfiction tends to be solely written and read by women. It often creates a supportive and helpful environment, assisting new writers with their growing talent and creating a place where information and news can be shared. I shared my excitement with my regular reviewers of being published in an online magazine, I know one girl who often talks about her upcoming book deal and the wonderful thing is there are people who are excited about this and eager to help in anyway they can. That girl has a strong supportive background from all her regular readers, who will then be willing to purchase her new book. It's networking and proof of talent at its finest.
Why on earth would anyone be dismissive of a growing literary community like this? Encouraging young writers and extolling those who are going onto proper publication? Fanfic writers don't make any money or really gain much acknowledgement, certainly not from literary circles. The only reason they write is because they have to. With any story told there are dozens of other stories that come from that, and I for one believe strongly, someone like Tolkien would have been more than happy with this effort. He might not like the style of the story, who we ship the characters with or where the story ends up, but he was a man who loved mythology and the idea of stories stemming off from stories. He wanted a new mythology to be created and it truly was, and continues to be so. I think the idea of a pure form of literature is ridiculous, because we all interpret stories in different ways. I read Lord of the Rings with previous mythology and religion in mind, while someone else may read it with World War One/Two in mind and how this changed Tolkien's views of the world he lived in. Writers themselves do not just have one original story that they write from beginning to end and then publish. They edit it and change plots and subplots, add or get rid of characters. I know in one of my fanfictions I decided to delete something like ten chapters I had written, to take the story in a completely different direction, because the original story was no longer working.
So put down that 50 Shades of Shit...not even going to lie, it's awful. I got to the first page and it already disobeyed writing lesson 101 - Thou shalt not have a character sit in front of a mirror and describe their appearance. I won't even mention about what happened when I skipped to the first sex scene *shudders*. Below are some truly amazing fanfiction, mostly rated T-M (if you don't know what that means, you soon will do!) and please give them a try. It's not all about the fluff and smut, it's not about putting together two unlikely characters and expecting them to miraculously full in love. These writers know what they're doing and they do it well. The stories are incredible, the characters are fully formed and certainly worth the hours put into writing these tales.
So some of my plans for next year are going to involve me being very busy, and my mother probably saying 'Hannah, you've got too much on your plate!' But I'm genuinely very excited about all of this.
My first plan involves poetry and dance. My housemate Nick is a performance poet and a very good one too! This is a video of a poetry slam he organised and I was particularly inspired by the beautiful dance performed to a poem, written by Keren Margetts (she's the dancer furthest away).
As a contemporary dancer of fourteen years I love experimenting with different styles of theatre and dancing. So something I'm now planning for my third year, is working with my housemate Nick to set up a production of dance set to performance poetry. I think this'll be a great way of boosting up public appreciation of performance poetry and develop a new style of dance, where the focus lies on the beats of the word, the human body and our own natural rhythm. I'm going to be talking with Nick and Keren soon, so hopefully all goes to plan, otherwise I may have to seek help elsewhere.
I've got two plays being planned as well. My first one is a collaboration with another housemate, and we're hoping to do a radio play. I'm also working on my own play, a dark drama looking at the world's obsession with sexuality. I love Theatre of the Absurd, Theatre of Cruelty, Physical Theatre and Brechtian styles. So I'm really hoping I'll get to explore these more if I'm working with a small group of people. I really want to go further with my directing and production manager, though I'll probably work with someone else. I can't wait to work with a group of people whom I know I work well with and who can produce the best results. I'm not talking about people always agreeing with me, but just knowing I won't be going home each night, desperate to tear my hair out in frustration!
So I don't forget the rules, I'm putting this down in my blog. This is the wonderful combination of nerdiness and hilarity! I developed this after watching The Royal Cousins at War, an excellent and interesting documentary by the BBC. But one thing I noticed was how every time they talked about people writing letters, they would always show a figure at a table writing a letter. So after laughing with my friends about this, we invented a drinking game.
Drink when you see:
Fuzzy person writing a letter.
Random castle or big house.
Landscape or a bee buzzing round a flower or a lake...or nature in general.
So I'll admit it, my count for published historical fiction
is zero, BUT I would like to someday in the future! Several of my friends have
noticed within our classes, how hard it is to get decent feedback for written
historical fiction. We're taught not to use overly complicated metaphors or
archaic language, yet these are common for books written during most historical
periods. There is also the added difficulty of historical accuracy, very few
people in any writer's workshop can often claim to have a large amount of
historical knowledge. But there are a few guidelines and practices that I have
found useful, when practicing my writing of historical fiction.
Read up on the time period you are writing in - This can be
both historical fact and fiction, often I've found the best ways are through
good fiction writers, but non-fiction has its uses and you won't learn
everything from fictional accounts. I recommend Philippa Gregory, Hilary
Mantel, Eva Ibbotson, Adeline Yen Mah, John Boyne and Markus Zusak.
Research about a normal day - If you have some characters in
your mind, find out what would have been a normal day for them. Shocking
political upheavals and plagues aside, learn what they would have done in the
morning, how their family would have spent their time, what they would have
eaten, what would they have talked about. The key with historical fiction is in
subtle details, interwoven into the plotline. There will be all sorts of things
you haven't ever thought about, but do so when just describing their day and
it's a good way to kick start your research.
Don't just rely on firsthand testimonies - This is mostly
for 20th Century historical fiction (unless you happen to know someone who was
alive during the battle of Hastings)! While firsthand accounts are useful,
whoever you're gaining the information from won't be omnipresent. So make sure
you have knowledge of both the period and events going on. The invented
character can be naive or, like many people, not entirely aware of everything
going on, BUT you should be. Your informant may have forgotten certain parts of
what happened and you may want to change the story in some way. Remember the
key is in subtle details and if you don't know something it will show.
Don't rely on films - As fun as films are, they have a
perchance to take a few liberties with historical details. Some are perfectly
reasonable, but most of us would draw the line at landing craft, that weren't
even invented until 1920, in a medieval film *coughRobinHoodcough*. Also, most
films and TV shows use modern phrases to make their characters more appealing
or to market it better to the public; and it's unlikely anyone was as gorgeous
as...
Or:
Or:
However, drooling over the above men is perfectly
acceptable!
Having said that... - Don't bawl your eyes out if you don't
know something and can't find it out. Sometimes what you want to know is so
obscure and bizarre, you won't even be able to find it in any books, articles
or online journals. Take a good guess or move onto the next bullet point...
Historians are your friends - Sometimes this won't even be a
professional historian, just a person who bloody loves whatever era you're
writing about. If you give this person you work to critique, don't get pissy if
they leave little historical notes all over your work. Run to them, kiss them
and seek their advice. Take this opportunity to learn more from someone who's
already done a load of research for you! They're not criticising you, just your
work.
Historical criticism is just as useful as writing criticism
- I don't understand why this divides some people, apparently you're only meant
to look at the writing itself, but if you had made an error with a Sci-fi book
(say a particular piece of science) or a murder mystery (say police
organisations) then people would point it out as a flaw in your writing.
Getting things badly wrong in a historical novel is not something you want a
publisher or agent to see. As I've said, sometimes you can take liberties, but
it's better to know what you're talking about when it gets to that stage.
Immerse yourself in the world - Visit castles, visit
museums, visit churches, visit wherever your character toddles off to; within
reason obviously, but find pictures and written pieces about the place. If your
character likes certain places, e.g a woods or lake, try to find one near you
and picture your character there. See if you can make a dinner they would have
eaten or spend some time doing the activities they would have done.
Get to know the Bible - Yes this sounds weird, I'm not
trying to convert anyone I promise! But generally, if you're writing about a
time in European history, then the Christian faith was a big part of everyone's
life for thousands of years. Catholic, Church of England, Protestant, Quakers,
learn how religion influenced every day life and huge political goings on.
Naturally, if you're writing about China in the 12th Century, you don't have to
worry so much about this!
Get to know stories - Arthur and the Knights of the Round
Table, Greek Myths and Legends, Shakespeare's work, etc.
Enjoy doing what you do best - Writing a great story and
getting to research your favourite historical period.
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