Ctrl Alt Delete ; a review and chat with Emma Gannon.
30 September 2016 • author, author interview, blog, blogger, ctrl alt delete, Emma Gannon, girllostincity, gracie actually reads
I
have a lot of heroes in my life. People I am lucky to know, and
worship accordingly. My family, obviously. Some friends. A few of the
teachers/tutors/lecturers I've encountered throughout my time in
education. The medical team who fixed my brain and then helped me
recover. Authors, so so many authors. And, of course...bloggers.
Emma
Gannon is one of these blogger heroes of mine. I aspire to reach her
level someday, both job-wise and general human being-wise. She writes a perfect
blog and has
a legendary
podcast that's being recommended by all the best mags and
people. I've been to one of her (now many, wonderfully varied) events,
the IRL Panel (read
my blog post about it here!), which I found fascinating and fun.
I receive her weekly email
newsletter, which always fills me with joy - and the list of
links to recent articles she adds in every time gives me endless new
reading material.
Emma
recently had her first book published, 'Ctrl
Alt Delete: How I Grew Up Online', which I read while on holiday
- and briefly reviewed in
this post here! I don't think I did it justice, though, I didn't
quite communicate just how amazing it was and how nostalgic it made
me - while also exciting me about the present and giving me hope for
the future.
I
couldn't possibly sum up in just one post how much I loved this book,
nor how much it meant to me to read it, but I will try to cover all
my favourite things about it. As you can see in the pic below, I
broke one of my ultimate bookish rules while reading Ctrl Alt Delete
on holiday and I folded over the corners of pages so
I'd remember precisely where to look when I needed guidance or just a
giggle.
The
first page that I felt the need to fold was #81, because a certain
chunk of text in the section about the specifics of 'online identity'
and what we hide from others got me super excitedly yelling 'YES
YES THIS THO!'...
'We
know that we're good at displaying, hinting, suggesting what
our lives look like while leaving lots of puzzle pieces out of frame.
The dodgy-looking bits: the arguments, the spaghetti down the
T-shirt, the greasy-hair days, doctor's appointments, the super-plus
tampons in the trolley, bills, Post Office trips, grocery shopping -
all these things are never usually posted. We'd probably never do a
post-STI check-up selfie saying, 'I'm all clear, guys!' Social media
has never been a natural place for sharing the real stuff. Us human
beings have a lot of boring life admin, so we're very good at hiding
it online nowadays and only sharing the happy, bright, emoji-filled
chunks of our lives, in order to give the illusion we are very happy,
well-put-together, mentally stable individuals.'
Another
folded page was #134, because Emma and her friends perfectly captured
what I'd like to see instead of a lot of the readily-available porn
online these days -
'Clive
Owen entering the strip club in Closer. Magic
Mike, obviously, any of the dance scenes...A freeze-frame of Johnny
Depp in Chocolat (that
lovely ponytail)...anything involving Idris Elba (maybe
not Mandela though)...'
Then
on page #173 Emma explained perfectly how it feels when a person compliments your blog...
'[a
blog is] a carefully built digital environment, a place you can have
a lot of control over. It's your domain name, your rules, your
content, your words, your little personal magazine that documents
your life. I often wonder if I am 'better' on my blog than in real
life. It's definitely prettier and neater than I am. It is also the
way I share my soul with the world. Seeing as there are over 150
million blogs on the Internet, for someone to see you and tell you
they like yours, well it felt quite amazing.'
I
am so grateful to have read this book - and to have come across this
blogger in the first place, obvs. After being a fan of Emma's for a
good while, I knew that the book would be special for me, and sure
enough I was 100% in it and in love with it from the second I opened
it. Actually from the first mention of MSN messenger and the fact
that it was totally an after school activity when everything that
couldn't be communicated in person was actually said (gurl, same),
and then the descriptions of a Picasa editing obsession (ughh, I once
edited out my eye bags very convincingly and then shrunk my eyebrows,
the result was basically a plastic alien), the trouble with cybersex
(most of my experiences with that took place on Gaia .com, anyone
else?!) and lying about your taste in music to suit the boy you
fancied (I now love so many pop punk bands thanks to the skater dudes
I crushed on when I was 14, though, so...).
I
was lucky to catch Emma via email recently and send her some cheeky
Qs. I tried my best not to freak out and fangirl when I received such
amazing responses. Play it cool, guys...
-
What advice would you give to a blogger just starting out right now?
Don’t
be afraid to be different! Take inspiration from other people you
admire, but don’t hold back from putting your own unique spin on
things. Stand out! There are so many blogs that look and sound the
same and I personally don’t see the point in blending in. If you
can help it, try not to be so much of a perfectionist; the beauty of
blogging is that each post doesn’t need to be a masterpiece. As
Nora Ephron once said: “You
don’t really have to believe what you write in a blog for more than
the moment when you're writing it." I
love this, it takes the pressure off. It's from this book, "The
Last Interview with Nora Ephron".
-
What was your favourite blog post to write? Like, ever?
The
blog post announcing my
book deal. It felt so surreal writing that post, like
REALLY? THIS IS HAPPENING? It was fun to give some behind the scenes
of how the idea came about, how I met my literary agent Robyn Drury
and how I found the perfect home for my book.
-
Same question as above, but with chapters of your book?
Probably
the earlier chapters, the cat-fishing and dating chapters of my book.
They were so fun to write. I was chuckling and cringing to myself
re-living it all.
-
What would your #1 policy be if you were put in charge of the World
Wide Web?
GOOD
QUESTION! It would definitely be accountability. It would be for
people to not get away with using hate-speech online or making
illegal threats. Have an opinion, yes, but there are currently so
many people getting away with doing stuff that IRL they would
definitely not get away with.
-
What was your best (/cheesiest) MSN name back in the day?
It
was probably an Incubus lyric. (*) Whatever tomorrow brings I'll be
there (*) - CRINGE!!!!
-
If you had to change your username right now, what would it be?
I
actually just changed my Twitter username
from @girllostincity to @emmagannon.
I’m a grown up now! My old blog name is no more. I guess it’s the
same as when I got rid of my hotmail account [email protected].
My old blog name has brought me so many amazing things and I was
quite emotional getting rid of it, but we all go through different
chapters and I'm on my exciting next one, now!
*
Thank
you so much, Emma, for letting me chat with you. And for the book,
and the podcast, and the blog and ALL OF THE THINGS. I really hope
someday we can go for coffee/cocktails and talk about life. Yep,
that's the dream. xo
P.S. I am pasting in your recent vlog with Hannah Witton, because you two are just my OTP in terms of career goals, y'know?
(I also recently changed my Twitter & Insta handle from @gracieactually to @_gracelatter. Because it was time. I hope all you readers and followers can support this change, and accept me for who I am - who I always was.)
P.S. I am pasting in your recent vlog with Hannah Witton, because you two are just my OTP in terms of career goals, y'know?
(I also recently changed my Twitter & Insta handle from @gracieactually to @_gracelatter. Because it was time. I hope all you readers and followers can support this change, and accept me for who I am - who I always was.)
29.
27 September 2016 • 29, about me, facts, Gracie
Hi,
my name's Gracie.
On a typical day I carry 4 lipsticks in my bag, I wish I could sing, acting in a takeaway app advert is a dream job, I sometimes sneak personal posts in on this blog between other posts, I have 11 piercings and 10 tattoos (still not done), I feel Autumn is romanticised hideously by hipsters but then at the same time I love the way it makes me feel, the Waterstones I work in now has a perfect gorgeous cafe and I spend my lunch breaks in it with my laptop, I fancy Mark Ruffalo more now than I did when I was 13 (which was a lot), I get stupidly excited when I hear my email alert noise, London is an escape, I always need something to look forward to in the near future, overthinking is a habit I cannot but must break, dairy substitutes are proving interesting, the current GBBO drama is giving me life, I saw American Idiot 5 times in the West End this summer, social media ghosting is stupid, writing dates keep me sane, I get tips on how to be happier in life and want to follow them but...I prefer to make things up as I go along.
I do one of these postsevery month whenever I remember whenever I want to.
I do one of these posts
Grown-Up Goals...!
26 September 2016 • goals, growing up, grown up, grown up goals, life goals, personal capital, to do
I
have written about this kind of thing before – my
To Do by 25 List was basically my way of saying 'I'm turning
23 soon, I supposedly should do all these things by 25 BUT why pressure yourself? Be free!'
So this
post will be a little more relaxed in terms of deadlines. Y'all are about to see my
list of Grown-Up Goals!
The
beautiful Keris actually reblogged a text post on Tumblr not too long
ago that said 'there is no endgame in life'. And wow, I
totally agree. These items below are not my endgames. I won't achieve
them all and stop trying, stop searching, no! I will simply move on
to my next challenge, I expect.
So
here we go. My for-real mostly-sensible Grown-Up Goals. When I grow
up, I want to have...
- Travelled around a significant portion of the planet.
- Be making a living from my passions. (No no not those passions, I mean like my writing and reading and speaking to people...)
- Got my own place. Just me. Nobody else. I want to live at least part of my life on my own.
- Rescued and provided a home for a cat. Or two. Or six...
- Worked out what taxes are and what needs doing with them because, honestly, what even. (I recently found out my code's been wrong for a long time and I am owed a LOT of money from the tax peeps. Huh.)
- Have the health in check. I want to still be receiving regular tests and attending consults, and I want everything to be running smoothly in my head. Surely that's not too much to ask...?
- Be content and done with tattoos. (Note: this is an unlikely goal. I love getting tattooed.)
- Have got the whole LinkedIn thing down to a T.
- Found a hairstyle that I a) like and b) can maintain. (This is harder than you'd think)
- Paid off all my debts and saved enough dolla that I can comfortably retire and sit pretty - and share my infinite wealth (ha!) with those closest to me.
I
know for a fact that I will have this blog forever - for the duration
of my life, when I am growing up and a grown-up, and who knows, I may
even appoint someone to watch over/continue it when I am gone. Let's
not get ahead of ourselves, though.
What
I mean is, you readers will all see me when I properly reach that
Grown Up era, and I hope you'll see me achieve each of these goals.
This (My) Modern Love.
24 September 2016 • book, gracie actually reads, this modern love, will darbyshire, YouTube
I
recently read Will Darbyshire's 'This Modern Love'; the
beautifully simple and strangely ambiguous red cover has been calling out to me from the New
Fiction shelf at work lately, so I treated myself after
payday...I thought I'd keep it as a 'coffee table read' and dip in and out whenever I fancied it, but I ended up devouring it in one day as I travelled to and from London.
The
book is a collection of letters, notes, and words submitted and sent
in from all over the world about, yeah you guessed it, love. Love in
all its forms – crushes, yearnings, relationships, flings,
break-ups; every little thing, every flutter of a feeling, is covered
in this book. It starts with crushes, then the middle section is relationships, and it ends with break-ups.
This
book didn't enrage me or irk me at all – despite the fact that it's
a 'YouTuber Book' (*sighs*) and it's about love, a subject I
am not very well-versed in or keen on these days. In fact, I kinda
loved this book. Yep, quite an achievement. Well done, Will!
I felt the need to answer the Qs posed at the beginning of the book.
I really wish I had seen this project when it first took flight - I'd have written endless letters and poured my heart out, and made a complete tit of myself, no doubt.
What
would you say to your ex, without judgement?
1.
Sorry. I was an idiot.
...you
could apologise for that thing you did too, though. Please.
2. I hear you're boring now. Good.
3. You're boring, too. And you always said to me that you hated short hair on a girl. Liar.
4. Any time. Anywhere.
2. I hear you're boring now. Good.
3. You're boring, too. And you always said to me that you hated short hair on a girl. Liar.
4. Any time. Anywhere.
Write
a thank you note to your partner – describe or share (in a photo)
the big and little things that make you happy.
These
days, I hardly ever go into a shop without seeing something you'd
like. Something specific, like a comic book or a suit jacket or a
silly novelty item or a snack of some kind...
I
think this means you're still in my head. In a good way. I still
consider you – and every time I do, I think how lucky I am to have
you as a friend.
What
single word sums up your love life, your partner, or someone you
like?
Weirdness.
What
would you say to a crush?
Write
a letter to them to express it.
This
is a terrible idea. Let's do it.
How
has technology affected your relationship, either positively or
negatively? Describe your experience.
I
hate broadcasting my life on Facey B, like many people might. I'm
also (believe it or not) selective about what I share on Twitter. My
relationships have hardly featured on my social media platforms, save
for the occasional #coupleselfie on Instagram. That's just me,
though. Just my preference. It's like PDA – time and place, y'know?
Snapchat
has always been good for my love life, though. No, not for that
reason (although...no) just for
checking in and sharing jokes while I was in an LDR. Quick, easy and
free with wifi. Sweet.
< 3
I would advise all of you readers to grab a copy of this book. If you are romantically confused, excited, lost, hopeful, at ease...there's something in this book for everyone.
Just Some Things #2 : Kasim.
23 September 2016 • amwriting, guest posts, Heaven, Just Some Things, Kasim, writing
This
is the latest instalment in my feature Just Some Things!
In
case you don't know, here's how it works...
I
send a writer an individual email with a series of prompts from the
'642 Things to Write About' book – chosen entirely at random most
of the time – and then when I get the responses, I
dedicate a post to them and their piece. It could be short, long,
backwards, in another language, I don't mind. It'll be an adventure
whatever happens! And they can use or ignore however many of the
prompts they wish.
When
published on the blog, their piece will be put in first and then I'll
add in a little piece beneath it, my response to the same prompt. I
will always ensure mine is shorter and less prominent, obviously.
It's all about featuring my fave writers.
This
post features and celebrates the legendary Kasim, author
of Affliction who
has a flair for the darker topics and is also an aspiring (+ sassy
and harsh af)
editor.
His
prompt was: Describe
Heaven.
I
don’t remember how I died. They say that this is normal, all part
of procedure. You die and then you don’t remember your death,
because why would God want you to remember how you died? It’s never
a nice thing, even if you were surrounded by your family and friends
and you had no regrets. Your heart still seizes up. Your lungs still
stop breathing. You still feel your life fade from you.
Oh
yeah, and then it comes back and you’re listening to your family
cry over you. You listen to them talk about you and you wonder why
they never said these things to you whilst you were still alive. You
realise that funerals are for the living more than anything. You
listen to the sound of their footsteps walking away and you’re
alone. The ground cracks under you and you feel like you’re
falling. Consciousness fades and returns and suddenly you’re
sitting in the cracked leather chair from your grandfather’s house
but it can’t be that because your grandfather died when you were
eight. You distinctly remember going to his funeral and watching
everyone cry. You didn’t understand that he was dead. You just
thought he was gone.
You
get up and walk to the door of the room. Your hand stretches out to
the handle and your hand doesn’t look like your hand. It looks new.
But your hand. It’s new but it’s yours. Your hand twists the
handle and when the door opens, there’s a wind that ruffles your
hair. You feel better than you’ve felt in years. Suddenly, your
child’s betrayal has disappeared from your heart, that fucker that
hit your car seventeen years ago exists no more, the woman at the
checkout till did not give you a frown as she passed your eighteen
bottles of wine through.
Everything
disappears and you feel like a tree in the midst of autumn. Naked.
Yet free.
You
step through the door and everything is dark. Yet, fear doesn’t
strike your heart. Not like it did when you were seven and you
watched that horror film about the doll that came alive. You couldn’t
look at dolls the same way for the next few years and even before you
died, if you saw a porcelain doll, your heartbeat would rise a
little.
Lights
turn on. Natural light floods in. It crashes into you.
You’re
standing in a meadow. No, a beach. No, you’re standing in the
middle of a city, just one in a crowd of people bustling around to
get to where they need to go. No, you’re sitting in a room
overlooking a waterfall. No, you’re standing above the waterfall,
about to leap in. No, you’re in space, looking at the Earth from a
distance of many miles. No, you’re on the moon.
No,
I don’t know where I am.
No,
I don’t know who I am.
No,
I don’t know what I am.
Why
are you so fearful?
The
voice thunders through me. It growls and is high-pitched, male and
female. Accents collide into each other within its space.
I
want to speak.
I
want to say something.
Is
happiness not what you seek?
My
mouth opens.
My
entire life crashes into me. Sad songs and white women, guitars laced
with spider’s webs, drums made of flesh, slashes in my skin. A
razor blade sings a soft ditty. A man cries my name, my head cradled
in his hand. A bathtub. Slipper underneath me. Shower curtain,
hospital curtain. There’s a nurse with pretty lips. I kiss her. I’m
at an office. Head cradled in hands. Computer beeps. Life support. A
whisper. We’re going to say yes. I want him to say yes.
He says no. There’s a switch. It’s turned off.
Is
happiness not what you seek?
No.
*
Kasim's Twitter : Instagram : Debut novella : Blog
And
here is my response to the same prompt...
I'm
walking down an aisle. It looks like the freezing, breezy church in
my home town. That one I was christened in. Not the one I was married
in. The stained glass is beautifully illuminated from the outside, it
casts glowing colours every which way – over all the people.
People. There are a lot of people. Who are these people? They're
standing either side of the aisle...they're clapping...they're
cheering...for whom? For me?
I
can't imagine why they'd be cheering for me. I turn and look behind
me. It's all blackness behind me. Swirling blackness. How can that
be?
'Well
done, girl,' a man's hand claps on my shoulder. It's warm and firm. I
follow the arm up and gasp when I see the face. It's my granddad.
He's here. But he died – when I was a teenager – he did, he did
die – and there's my grandma, clutching his other arm, tears
pouring down her face. Tears of sadness, or tears of pride? She's
smiling. At me.
That's
when I look around me again. And I mean, properly look. I see my
teachers from school who always inspired me, my best friends whose
weddings I attended and children I held, my own daughter who was
never born but I know it's her...these people are all dead. They're
dead and gone. They've come here. And so have I. And they're happy to
see me.
If
you are interested in doing one of these posts, do tweet or email me
at [email protected].
A Recipe for the Perfect Alchemist.
22 September 2016 • barbican centre, gracie gets dramatic, review, royal shakespeare company, rsc, the alchemist, theatre, theatre review
~
An old and refined London setting.
~
A base coat of slick wit.
~
3 spoonfuls of wickedness
(Face, Subtle, Dol Common).
(Face, Subtle, Dol Common).
~
5+ fleeceable fools.
~
5+ indignant neighbours.
~
Infinite layers of tricking.
~
A dash of guesswork.
~
A healthy dose of hilarity (approx. 2.5 hours' worth is best; apply
when all ingredients are proven and prepped) (also give recipients of
hilarity time between doses of 1.25 – so they may freshen
accompanying drinks and recover from exposure to excellent farce).
Image credit (Photographer & copyright): Helen Maybanks (c) RSC.
Tips
for a truly stellar production: cast Ken Nwosu, Mark Lockyer and
Siobhan McSweeney, allow them to bewitch and enchant those onstage
and in the audience; ensure Polly Findlay directs with Josh Roche
assisting for utter deliciousness; keep candles burning throughout
for maximum atmosphere; cut and snip text – Stephen Jeffreys is
best for this; engage with the punters wherever possible; turn things
over now and again for freshness.
Image credit (Photographer & copyright): Helen Maybanks (c) RSC.
WARNING:
do not forget
the risk of the Plague.
For more information and inspiring practical demonstration, I'd advise you see RSC's performance of 'The Alchemist' at the Barbican.
Running
until 1st October, 2016.
Doctor Faustus; the night my love of plays was rekindled.
20 September 2016 • barbican centre, gracie gets dramatic, review, royal shakespeare company, rsc, the alchemist, theatre, theatre review
I
recently was fortunate enough to see the incredible RSC's production
of Doctor
Faustus at
the Barbican, in London. It blew my mind a little bit. Here's a few reasons why I
loved it - and why you must all go and see it...
The
vibes.
It
sounds odd, but from the very beginning when the two leading males
took to the stage and had the most intense exchange – both stood,
mirroring each other, then lighting a match, letting it burn out, ooh
– there was an atmosphere that fell over the audience. The entire
theatre became a different place. The doors to the stalls slammed
shut all at once, and after that first fragment of a scene, Faustus
(Sandy Grierson) launched into his first monologue and we were all
hooked on him, like a beautiful yet toxic substance.
This
penetrable atmosphere continued for the entire performance; the
energy would always be at its peak, never slowing or fading.
Your
eyes will thank you.
The
expression 'a feast for the eyes' can be overused, but let me assure
you it's totally 100% relevant here. It's amazing what the the
director and creative team did with the space, and then what the cast
could achieve with such a minimal set. Well, it appeared to be
minimal when I first went in...the cardboard boxes scattered around
the stage and the tall hung sheets as a background initially fooled
me. The stage soon became home to magic, demons, armies, the devil
(more on her later!) and the deadliest of sins.
The
hottest devil I ever did see.
The
evil yet irrefutable Lucifer was played by Eleanor Wyld. She was an
absolute vision in her bright white suit as she commanded the stage –
and OMG, my hair envy was unreal whenever I saw her.
The people.
I was astounded to learn that the roles of Faustus and Mephistophilis are alternated between two actors, Sandy Grierson and Oliver Ryan. That bit of info alone seemed insane. I mean, that's a lot of lines to learn...
Then I found out that the decision as to who plays which character is made ON THE
NIGHT OF PERFORMANCE!? Oh yes, when the actors take to the stage in a
dark mysterious prelude to the play that I mentioned earlier, they're
actually deciding something very important. The man holding the match
that goes out first? He'll be the Doctor. I cannot imagine what goes
through the actors' heads each night as they strike their matches.
Does one role excite them more? Do they dread being damned and hurt
by the devil? I wish I knew.
Image credit (Photographer & copyright): Helen Maybanks (c) RSC.
The
supporting cast were all diamonds; I particularly want to applaud
each of the actors who play one of the deadly sins, individually.
Because, whoa. Such grotesque and gorgeous beings!
No interval.
I know this is a bit controversial, but...I've come to LOVE seeing a performance with no interval. It's so much more intense, not having a break - you're able to get utterly immersed in the show. Plus, it often ends quicker that way and you're free to go home and get to bed at a reasonable hour.
Not
that I wanted to do that with this show. My goodness, I could have
stayed all night long. Staring endlessly at that troubled Doctor...
Words,
tho.
I'd
forgotten how gorgeous a classic play could be - Christopher
Marlowe's words would drip quietly or explode violently from the
actors throughout and I found myself lost in the action, intoxicated
by the speech.
Image credit (Photographer & copyright): Helen Maybanks (c) RSC.
So
yes, there are many more reasons why y'all must see this production
ASAP, but these few featured here are the most important, in my
opinion.
Another
important reason is that it ends soon! Doctor
Faustus is
running until 1st October, 2016. Hop to it.
Just Some Things - the beginning...
18 September 2016 • amwriting, guest posts, Just Some Things, writing
As
you all know (or should know by now because I mention it all the damn
time, sorry!), I'll soon be guest lecturing at my alma mater, the
University of Winchester. In October, I will be leading a couple of seminars
on Professional Writing (specifically Blogging) within the first year
Publishing module. So that's a bit bloody exciting. And terrifying.
One
of the key things I've been thinking about when planning these
seminars is engagement. As in, getting the lovely fresher
kids to engage with me, as a speaker, as a writer, and as a human.
I've got tips from various people; friends, family, colleagues, the
resident lecturers at Winchester, even experts in this field like
Laura Dockrill, Anna James, Katie Webber, and my good pal Mr Gee. All
these tips have been logged and considered, and the ones I've heard
and liked most have been 1. be yourself 'or they'll see right through
you', and 2. open the doors and break the ice immediately; ask questions, get the brains
going.
The
latter tip has got me researching and mind-mapping the most. I
wondered what questions to ask straight away – I'm probably
going to go with general ones such as 'what does the word blog mean
to you?' and of course 'do you blog? Yes? Good. No? Why not?!'
But
then I want to stand out and give these students something different.
So I looked at my sexy bookshelves and it hit me – I can use one of
my DIY books and personal favourite idea engine, '642 Things to Write About'!
This
book has been given to me by some lovely considerate friends, all of
whom have said 'this just seemed so YOU!' and it is. It's a perfect supply of inspo – 642 prompts big and small, long and short – it's
ingenious. I have since bought more variations of this book, its
brothers and sisters, '642 Things to Write About ME' and '642 TINY Things to Write About'. Endless inspiration for blog posts, creative
pieces, articles, novels...!
So
the idea is: I'll walk in, chat with the students a bit, and then
throw some of these prompts at them. They won't know what's hit 'em!
It'll break the ice and break down the creative walls. Perfect plan, me. *pats
self on back*
Then I
thought...what if I pre-empted this seminar intro device with some
individual posts? And then I thought...who would
want to help me with this? Why, my multitude of gorgeous blogger
friends, of course!
And
thus, this feature on my blog was born. It's probably been done
before, it'll probably be done numerous times in the future, but this
right here is gonna be mine.
I
had been considering interviewing blogger friends at some point
anyway, but wasn't sure it would fit right with my posts. I LOVE doing interviews myself, and have done a few now
for some utter babes including Jo @ JoScribbles (Their Scribbles: Interviewing Gracie), Michelle @ The Unfinished Bookshelf (Q&A: Grace Latter), Stacey @ The Pretty Books (Shelf Swap with Grace), Jim @ YAYeahYeah (#6 Degrees: Only Ever Yours To...) and Josh @ Josh The Blogger (Blogger Chat with Grace Latter).
I'm
always honoured and excited to be asked to answer questions for other
blog posts, and of course I LOVE guest posting for others sites such as The Olive Fox, so I figured I could send an email round and get some
volunteers for this feature!
How
it works is, I'll send a writer an individual email with prompts from
the '642 Things to Write About' book – these prompts are chosen
randomly most of the time – and then when I get
the responses I'll dedicate a post to them and their piece. They can
do whatever they want with it - fiction, non-fiction, truths, lies, a
total flip job...anything!
So
then their piece will be put in first, and I'll add in a little piece
of my own beneath it, my response to the same prompt. I will always
ensure mine is shorter and less prominent, obviously. It's all about
featuring my fave writers.
Watch this space, readers. It's about to get even more creative - and co-operative?! - around here.
Let's have a taster now, an example of a prompt from this book and what a writer can do with it. This is my response to: You get 3 do-overs. What would they be and why?
1. I'd cut my hair even shorter when I was 13. I wanted a pixie crop. It became an overgrown grandma bob. All the hair piled up on my head and my fringe became an enormous presence - even more formidable than it had been my whole life until that point. I'd cut it shorter, and I wouldn't care when the boys at school said I looked ugly or the girls in the playground called me a dyke. I'd stick a finger up and sass 'em.
2. I would not have slept with that one, all that time ago.
3. Okay fine, I'd have properly locked the fire escape door on our spaceship. Maybe that would have helped prevent the whole alien invasion issue. Maybe not. But c'mon, that whole day was fun, wasn't it? And our way of life these days is...different...but who doesn't love a challenge now and again? That's what the occasional erratic zaps on the street are. A challenge. We all look like we're dancing as we evade the beams. It's really quite beautiful. But of course you idiots don't notice, because you're too busy fearing for your lives, or whatever. Lame.
Watch this space, readers. It's about to get even more creative - and co-operative?! - around here.
Let's have a taster now, an example of a prompt from this book and what a writer can do with it. This is my response to: You get 3 do-overs. What would they be and why?
1. I'd cut my hair even shorter when I was 13. I wanted a pixie crop. It became an overgrown grandma bob. All the hair piled up on my head and my fringe became an enormous presence - even more formidable than it had been my whole life until that point. I'd cut it shorter, and I wouldn't care when the boys at school said I looked ugly or the girls in the playground called me a dyke. I'd stick a finger up and sass 'em.
2. I would not have slept with that one, all that time ago.
3. Okay fine, I'd have properly locked the fire escape door on our spaceship. Maybe that would have helped prevent the whole alien invasion issue. Maybe not. But c'mon, that whole day was fun, wasn't it? And our way of life these days is...different...but who doesn't love a challenge now and again? That's what the occasional erratic zaps on the street are. A challenge. We all look like we're dancing as we evade the beams. It's really quite beautiful. But of course you idiots don't notice, because you're too busy fearing for your lives, or whatever. Lame.
If
you are interested in doing one of these posts, do tweet or email me
at [email protected].
(Perfect image by Kayleigh Causton illustration)
The triumphant return to......EXERCISE.
15 September 2016 • body, body confidence, body love, body positivity, confidence, exercise, gracie's life, my body, Zumba
I went to an exercise class a couple of weeks ago. A Zumba class, in my town hall, one evening after work. No big deal.
Except it is. I haven't exercised – not in a class, anyway – for a good couple of years. I think. Well, I tried my beloved Body Balance again after my first operation. I may have attempted yoga once or twice, and I must have gone swimming at some point. I even attended an Ultimate (Frisbee) tournament the summer after my first op (meaning I was running on a pitch throwing myself around catching a disc for 8+ hours a day for a whole weekend, approximately 5 weeks after I regained the ability to walk – not my best idea). I've tried, I suppose. But this was different. Going to this local fitness class was a step. A lot of steps, actually, to noughties pop songs and funky Spanish tunes...but one big step, metaphorically.
I
warned the ridiculously energetic instructor when I first got there
and paid my £5, I have had operations. I haven't exercised in a long
time. Then I assured her that these operations would not affect my
movement and I'm not at any risk. I would just be slower. I'd stay in
the back, behind everyone else, keeping to myself and not alerting
anyone to my hideous unfitness and appalling rhythm.
I
don't know what I was expecting. I really don't. I'd just decided that
morning that I'd go. I wanted to give myself a chance. I wanted to
test out my body, feel a buzz maybe, push myself more than I have in
ages. Like, my only form of exercise these days is walking. Running
up stairs at work or in tube stations. Shelving stacks of books (more
of a workout than you'd think). Yeah, that's about it.
I
used to do Zumba, around the time I started uni. I loved it. It was
the perfect workout for me – dancing madly, no strict moves,
squatting a lot and kicking and punching and twirling. It was
essentially sassy aerobics. I knew it would be tough going back, but
I also knew I'd rekindle that old love. For the exercise, for my
body, for me.
These
were my thoughts in chronological order during the first class...
- I'll wait out here, until the music starts, maybe. Like, I'll rush in and just stay at the back. I don't want to be hovering, waiting to start. I don't know anyone...
- It's actually good that I don't know anyone, I suppose. Nobody will chat with me and I won't feel self-conscious. I can focus on me. Yeah.
- Oh wait, I know her. And her. They're lovely. I'll say hi.
- Yay, we're standing together! Okay, this is actually nice. Zumba at uni was like this, when my friend taught and the rest of us danced like ACTUALLY CRAZY and laughing the whole way through. It's a good social sport.
- Is it a sport? It's a form of exercise.
- I vaguely remember dancing to this one – it's Beyonce, nice. I swear I did this set of moves way back when. Easy to remember. Good, good...
- Ouch, I think my legs have realised what's happening. They're not happy.
- People always say my legs are crazy strong. They are – my upper body can barely stand ANY weight, and I can't lift a thing most days, but my legs are powerful af. Just right now they are livid @ me.
- Wow, my body is AWAAAAKE.
- I forgot how much I sweat when I exert myself. I always have – cross country at school I was constantly stopping for breathers and drinks because I was bright red and puffing hard. Same as right now, tbh. We're only 2 songs in!
- My butt is sweaty. Like, the small of my back, just above my butt. I hope nobody can see sweat patches.
- Oh wait, I'm at the back and EVERYONE ELSE IS PROBABLY SWEATING FFS.
- Probably not as much as me, but yeah. Sweat happens.
- HAHA, that song I just wanna make you sweat is the next track. Hysterical. It's like Snoop knew.
- This song is supposed to go I just wanna make you wet, isn't it?!
- Nobody is looking at me. Why was I worried about that? Of course they're not! It's so cool, everyone's wrapped up in their own thing. Everyone's working hard on themselves and making sure they nail every move. Nobody . Is . Looking . At . Me.
- Whoa, the mythical exercise high is kicking in, I swear. I feel FLAWLESS.
- Fuck yeah, body. You got this. SWIVEL, KICK, JAZZ HANDS.
- SWEET DAMN I LOVE ME.
- I LOVE THIS SONG TOO, OMG OMG I REMEMBER THIS ROUTINE.
- C'mon, Grace. Sass, sass, sass. Squat harder. Punch higher. Push yourself. Slay.
- I'M A SURVIVOR *punch* I'M NOT GON' GIVE UP *punch* I'M NOT GON' BLAH BLAH *punch* I'M GON' WORK HARDER!!! *punch**punch*
- Wow, now my arms KILL. Will this move tone me up? It hurts so bad, even though it's just rotating and stuff. Aeroplane movements, spinning...
- I AM GONNA DO THIS EVERY WEEK OMG IT FEELS SO GOOD.
- SERIOUSLY WOW.
- Stretching now, must be nearly over. That went quick. But I'm glad, I was just starting to hurt.
- That's an understatement. I HURT EVERYWHERE.
- The instructor just complimented me. Aww. She must assume my operations I mentioned were on my appendix or something minor. Ha!
- Holy shit. Good work, body. Let's drive home. *pats self on butt*
I've
decided that next pay day I'll be spending my spendable
portion on
body lovin' things. No, not those things, you filthy scuzzies. I mean
I'll book in an upper body massage perhaps (my arms were
CLICK-CLICK-CLICKING as I punched the air during the class), get my legs waxed,
research my local salons for a really good (and preferably super
affordable) hairdresser, buy more work AND casual clothes...I'll
treat myself and my body. Because it's earned it.
So
yes, this class, this epic return to Zumba'ing, was a triumph. I will
hopefully continue with it – and maybe another class here and
there, but not too many because, shit, it costs a fair bit of
dolla...
I've
said it before and I'll say it again: love your damn body. Treat it
like the awesome source of life it is – remember it contains all
your bits and bobs, your ticker and your breathers, your booze sponge
and thought box. Don't abuse it. Lecture over. Let's hug.
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