Independent Hell October 3, 2009
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Dunraven Road, Living With the Undead.Tags: Anne Rice, Charlaine Harris, Clive Barker, Dunraven Road, independent bookshops, L.J. Smith, neil gaiman, Stephanie Meyer, stephen king, Twilight, vampire fiction, vampires
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Everyone is always telling readers and authors to support their local bookshops. ‘They’re run by people who are truly passionate about the written word!’, they cry. ‘The large chains are evil, corporate monsters who only care about screwing profit from writers and publishers’. Well, I’ve tried to support my independents, I really have, but apart from a few notable exceptions, I seem to be hitting a brick wall.
Eager to get my book into more brick and mortar shops, I pitched up at a local independent this week, my bag full of pristine copies of Dunraven Road. Now, I don’t expect every bookshop to kneel before me and beg to stock my novel. Besides the fact that would be both disturbing and inappropriate, I am fully aware that I’m an unknown, first time author trying to distinguish myself in a world crammed to the rafters with unknown authors. Give me a cheery thanks, but no thanks, and I’ll be on my way. Simple. But what happened at this particular shop has left me reeling.
After asking what my book was about, the owner took the copy I offered her (practically between forefinger and thumb), before announcing, “It contains the words ‘bitch’ and ‘fucking’”. (After flipping through some more pages) “We don’t stock this sort of thing”.
At this point, I would have been happy to leave. Ignoring the belittling fact that she called my work “this sort of thing”, I can appreciate that Dunraven Road isn’t for everyone. There’s gore. There’s sex. Swear words are sprinkled about with wild abandon. My uncle told me he needed a stroll in his garden after reading some particularly distressing passages (which I took as solid proof that I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do!) I was therefore not offended by the shop owner’s rejection. That was, until she continued…
“What genre is it?”
“Well, it’s categorised as dark fantasy.”
“Hmmm (still peering at my book and riffling through the pages), we don’t stock dark fantasy. I would only stock what I’m comfortable with and I can’t even watch horror films. My customers like the fact that any book in here can be read by anyone of any age.”
“So you don’t stock vampire fiction?” I asked, rather incredulously.
“Oh no, no, nothing like that,” she retorted with the sort of superior smile I assume she reserves for customers asking to order The Big Book of Breasts or Blowjobs For Dummies (okay, I made those up 
)
She then launched into a lengthy spiel about the sort of book they do stock – mysteries (“They have to be well written. Style is important to me because I was an English teacher for thirty years”) and children’s books that can also be enjoyed by adults (i.e. Sir Harry of sodding Potter). While she was talking, I was still finding it hard to reign in my shock over her disregard for vampire fiction. She obviously didn’t know about the current Twilight madness gripping the entire planet, or the fact that two major US TV shows have debuted this year, both based on bestselling vampire fiction (L.J. Smith’s The Vampire Diaries and Charlaine Harris’s The Southern Vampire Mysteries). But she knew about Harry Potter. Sheesh, nothing gets past her! I wonder what she would make of these novels seeing as the Twilight series and The Vampire Diaries are both written for young adults. There may be no ‘fucking’ or ‘bitch’ involved, but the frankly disturbing birth of Bella’s child in Breaking Dawn would probably give her nightmares for weeks – yet these books were written by a mormon and are hailed as a shining literary example of how to hang onto your virtue. Would the shop owner have told Stephanie Meyer they “don’t stock this sort of thing”?!
Just as I was about to ask for my book back, turn on my heel and run like the wind, the shop owner noticed the £11.99 retail price. Cue another lengthy spiel about how people don’t like paying that sort of money for a book. All this while looking as if I’d just hopped up on her counter and dumped a load next to the till. That sort of multi-tasking is a genuine talent.
Seeing as she was shocked to hear that I’d found the address of her shop on the internet, I should have told her: If you’re worried about staying competitive against the major bookshop chains, I’d be less concerned about price and more concerned about not having a web presence (let alone an online ordering system), or not keeping up to date with current trends in fiction. If you don’t stock “this sort of thing”, I suppose that also vetoes Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Clive Barker, Anne Rice… I could go on and on… All extremely successful, bestselling authors. How is this shop making money?!
Just as I was losing the will to live – the shop owner pulled one more gem out of her sleeve: “Would you consider writing something more suitable for the shop?”
What?!
Yes, certainly. I’ll go home right now and whip up 100, 000 words of nice, fluffy mystery story starring annoying middleclass children with ridiculous names, convince someone to publish it, wait for it to be printed; and run it up to your shop just as fast as I can.
Idiot.
The Twilight Diaries? September 29, 2009
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Dunraven Road, Living With the Undead.Tags: BBC Radio Devon, Dunraven Road, L.J. Smith, Richard Green, The Vampire Diaries
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I have some news that is both exciting and pant-wettingly terrifying in equal measure – I’m going to be appearing on Richard Green’s afternoon show on BBC Radio Devon to talk about my book, vampires and life in the Westcountry. If you want to tune in, I’ll be on at 2.30 on Friday October 9. If you’re in the UK, you can listen live online, or catch it later on the BBC iPlayer. I’ve never done anything like this before so it may well be, um, interesting…
I finally got around to watching the first episode of The Vampire Diaries and was pleasantly impressed. I wasn’t expecting another Buffy the Vampire Slayer but I was hoping it was going to be better than True Blood (I can’t help it, even after getting excited over the awesome pilot, I’m just not warming to big-headed, self-important Sookie Stackhouse). Main character, Elena, seemed to have some actual balls; and I was genuinely interested in the mystery surrounding the return of vampire Stefan (did anyone else think he looked like a younger Angel?) and the feud between him and his brother, Damon. There were a couple of ‘oh my god!’ moments… The terrible, fake stage smoke that filled the graveyard and frightened Elena away immediately springs to mind; as does Candice Accola’s full-on, vixen act as Caroline Forbes (do teenagers really behave that way? Really?!) Overall, I enjoyed it and I’m loving the fact that Twilight mania has led to such a healthy crop of new vampire shows (even if I’m not loving the Twilight bit…) But I have to say that British offering, Being Human, is still yet to be beaten. This is a series about a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost sharing a house in Bristol. It sounds like it should be crap but I actually found it was scarily addictive (and truly scary… werewolf transformations have freaked me out ever since Michael Jackson’s Thriller video gave me persistent nightmares as a kid). Plus, series one ended on a completely genius cliff hanger.
I’m not surprised The Vampire Diaries was fairly decent; it was, after all, based on the novels of the same name by L.J. Smith. I became addicted to her Night World series when I was an impressionable teenager and devoured them as quickly as my local library could stock them. I think Smith’s work is better written and more engaging that Stephanie Meyer’s (gasp!) Plus, her female characters aren’t simpering Victorians who will give up everything to be with a freaky, glowing stalker. L.J. Smith has just returned to writing after a 10-year hiatus due to family problems; during which she left the Night World fans who were expecting a spectacular conclusion coinciding with the millennium, firmly in suspense. I remember being extremely frustrated by this at the time, but there’s good news for new fans of the Night World series: The long-awaited conclusion, Strange Fate, will finally be published in April 2010.
Social Networking: The Life-Draining Succubus February 10, 2009
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead.Tags: myspace, ning, social networking, twitter
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I decided I should start doing the ‘author thing’ and go pimp myself on some social networking sites. Which is hard. Mainly because I get embarrassed when I have to write about (or talk about…) myself, which seems a ridiculous thing for someone who writes a blog to say, but there ya go. Shyness is an evil bitch… and it seems even more pathetic when you’re shy in the shiny virtual world.
Anyway, I’ve been trying out Twitter, as you might have noticed from the flashy new RSS feed on the right I didn’t understand this site to begin with. It’s just status updates, right? But I was gradually sucked in by the giddy thrill of following people like Stephen Fry and Jonathan Ross – It’s like legal stalking! Ace. Apparently, celebrities are even twittering without their knowledge – A Twitter account purportedly belonging to the Dalai Lama was recently suspended after it was exposed as a fake.
Bolstered by the dizzying heights of my success (12 followers and counting…), I turned my attention to MySpace, which had always seemed to me a particularly terrifying beast. You have to actually admit to what music you listen to! And which books you like! People will surely laugh at me… I actually tried MySpace before, but deleted my account after a brief panic attack and transferred my affections to Facebook (where I can hide in cyber space, safe in the knowledge that only the people I personally choose can gawk at my profile… and maybe laugh). But this was going to be a more professional, author’s profile… So I closed my eyes and got on with it. Two hours and a lengthy list of pimp-your-space type sites later… I came up with this effort. No, the large picture on the right is not me, I only wish it was. Some of the pimp-your-space type sites are truly awesome, and provide pictures as life-affirming as this:
Heh heh heh…
I also have profiles at Wonderlands and Vampires & Slayers (which is overly obsessed with Twilight, but other than that small slight against humanity, seems cool). These are both Ning sites, which I love the idea of because you can create your own social network there in a matter of minutes. This is great if you have an obscure interest, let’s say bareback hamster racing, and want to form a community of similarly enthralled bareback hamster racers.
So there we have it, I’m fully pimped out. I’m one of those annoying internet people screaming “Look at me! Look at me!” Gah.
If you use any of these sites, feel free to come and say hello (just don’t tell me if my profile made you laugh…)
I’m Fashionable Again (For a Couple of Months At Least) January 28, 2009
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead.Tags: Agyness Deyn, Daisy Lowe, Dr Marten
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So, Dr Marten boots are back. See, I knew if I never stopped wearing them in the first place I’d eventually be cool again. Apparently, I have my two favourite curve defying, size -1, sucking-on-a-permanent-lemon-faced ‘celebrity’ cretins to thank for this revival – Agyness Deyn and Daisy Lowe. Cheers. Actually, I think they copied me…
New Year, Old Movies January 19, 2009
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead, Writing.Tags: vampire movies, Writing
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Happy (slightly belated) New Year 
I don’t know how happy it is for everyone. Every day it seems another chain of shops has closed in the UK, or another weighty segment of the workforce has been laid off. But I feel guiltily optimistic. Dunraven Road will be published this year after all, and the new novel has picked up speed again (I had a brief lapse in writing over Christmas and New Year… and ok, for a little while before Christmas and New Year too… but despite my desperate cries of “I’ve lost it! What if I can never write again?”; and my husband’s well-worn replies of “You can’t force it. Take a break/a lie down/a rest from banging your head against the PC, I can’t see World of Warcraft through the blood stains”, the novel is flowing again). I’ve also sorted out the fridge and (with the help of my husband A.K.A. The Food Nazi, A.K.A. I know I kept asking you to help me, but now I’ve created a monster) have embarked on a diet that’s still going after three weeks. So there is much yay, the new year ain’t treating me so bad. SlimFast worked so well, in fact, that I’m now afraid to go back to solid food… Just don’t ask me to give up smoking.
While I wait for the new Underworld film to open (I know the last one was lame, but I have a weakness for Matrix-style vampire wars… My husband, on the other hand, watches them for the shots of Kate Beckinsale’s shiny, PVC-clad bottom), I’ve found an 80’s vampire film I’d never seen… Gasps all around. Near Dark is basically about a band of vamps (and the older brother from Heroes!) who wander the States in various stolen vehicles, eating hicks and burning down bars. I was a bit apprehensive initially, particularly because my husband read the synopsis and informed me it sounded suspiciously like the new book. I was therefore relieved because apart from the vampires’ brief stint in an RV, the rest of the film is nothing like my novel (which has yet another title – Fae Light and Jinn Stones anyone?), so I can’t be accused of plagiarising a 20-year-old movie I’d never seen. Dodged that bullet It’s a good film. Pretty gross in parts and some of the special effects were cool (though probably not if you don’t agree with setting young children on fire). I wouldn’t go as far as one commenter on IMDB did and call it the “Best Vampire Flick Ever!”, but it certainly made me wonder why it faded into near obscurity while The Lost Boys (released the same year) spawned a cult of Edgar Frog worshippers and one of the worst sequels in cinematic history. Maybe some mysteries were never meant to be solved.
Dingoes Ate My Book October 14, 2008
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead, Writing.Tags: novel, taxidermy, Writing
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I have just had a horrifying experience… My husband deleted the New Book. I should make it perfectly clear this wasn’t done on purpose. It wasn’t some revenge tactic for a fight spun out of control or a minor fit of early dementia on his part. Basically, PC went bad, husband fix PC, PC eat book. Not good. Especially as I had just written a scene I was particularly pleased with. Some days, couldn’t you just scream until your throat bleeds?
Of course, I can’t completely pass the buck on this one. Why oh why didn’t I back my files up properly?! This is a really bad habit of mine. My files get backed up maybe once every two months if they’re lucky. I’ve heard of magical programs that do this for you and you don’t even know they’re there… But they don’t seem to like co-operating with the removable drive I keep all my work on. Let this be a warning to you: Back up your files, people! Back up, or spend many panicky hours scouring the net for a free file restore program (because I’m far too skint to spend a ridiculous £250 on a professional one).
Thankfully, the file restore program salvaged almost everything I’d lost. Ironically (seeing as it was the only file I really cared about), it could only find half of the New Book. Scream. Sigh. Relax.
Although I now have to rewrite the parts of the New Book I lost (its tentatively called Druidess, although my mum tells me she thinks this title is crappy), I am feeling oddly optimistic because I’ve started writing a new short story. Having run out of movie monsters to write about, this one is about taxidermy. Seriously, how creepy are those stuffed animals you see in museums?
Girl, Interrupted August 13, 2008
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead, Writing.Tags: facebook, writer's block, Writing
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It’s hard to write when you’re low. In a funk. Angry with your own crappy circumstances. I wouldn’t call it writers’ block. I have plans, outlines, all that good stuff. I’m just lacking the confidence to get anything of substance down on paper (or computer, whatever). I look at where I last left off, read a couple of paragraphs, change a couple of words… and come away believing it’s the biggest pile of crap I’ve ever seen. I don’t think it’s helping that I will be 26 in just under a month and two of my most revered literary idols were first published (and successfully so, I should add) when they were 25. I knew it was unrealistic to aim for this same goal, but I did any way. If I could emulate their careers in the same time span, it would validate my worth as a writer. It would prove that not only am I a decent writer, I was decent enough to be published at a young age. That was the convoluted reasoning, any way. This will not do…
Basically, the novel-in-two-months mega plan hasn’t come to pass. Big surprise. Maybe I was overly ambitious. Maybe a lot. Maybe I should stop whining and force myself to write something, even if I hate every word of it.
I have whole novels in my head, complete with fully realised characters waiting for me to give them voice and purpose. Sometimes I think they must get really pissed off with me. It’s as if they stand beside me, whispering ‘bloody get on with it, would you? I’m bored. And you suck.’ Sounds like a load of maniacal shite, but hey, it’s my head.
If anyone ever invents a machine that could download the stories in my brain, bypassing the agonising process of eeking it out line by line and criticising it as I go, I’ll be the first in the queue. Because that would rule. Although, I’m not sure I’d want a Matrix-style plug in the back of my head…
Okay, time to force myself to eek out some crap, uh, I mean gleaming prose.
Oh, and why do I care about Facebook? People you knew years ago ask to be your ‘friend’, you accept and then they never contact you again. I should delete my account and leave the stupid thing alone, and yet…
At least I can prowl around their photos and see who got ugly. That always makes me feel better
Addendum: I’ve just gone away and forced myself to sit tight and write something… and I enjoyed it Whoop de whoop, keep it comin’!
Beware of Zombies July 2, 2008
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead, Writing.Tags: dark fire fiction, lord of the rings, novella, short story, tattoo, twisted tongue magazine, werewolf, zombie
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The new issue of Twisted Tongue is out which means that the first two parts of my lil zombie novella, The Undead Alliance, are now published If you want to check out the awesomeness for yourself, you can either purchase a paper copy of the magazine or download the free PDF. here.
How cool is this cover?!
I also found out today that a story I wrote about an imprisoned werewolf called The Lycanthrope Technician has been published in Dark Fire Fiction, and it was chosen as this issue’s Feature Story! Check it out…
Vampires, zombies, werewolves… If I write a story about a Frankenstein-ey monster I’ll have the whole set!
In other Caroline-related news… I’m becoming scarily obsessed with getting a new tattoo. My lack of money and a disapproving husband have yet to deter me (a girl can dream, after all. That’s what writers are good at). But not just any tattoo, oh no. I want a fan-boi’s wet dream Lord of the Rings inspired tattoo. I love hobbits and I’m not ashamed to admit it! I want a tattoo like this…
Or this…
(Minus the goatee beard )
But not this. Dear God, not this…
This tattoo would give me hideous nightmares. Me and any innocent bystander who saw it.
Is it over-the-top-geek to want a Lord of the Rings-esque tattoo? Maybe… Now I just have to work out the Elvish for “I heart the Shire”…
All Hail the Discworld March 16, 2008
Posted by Caroline Barnard-Smith in Living With the Undead, Writing.Tags: bbc, discworld, fantasy, pratchett, tolkien, worlds of fantasy
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BBC Four have just shown the last part of a series called Worlds of Fantasy, which followed the rise of fantasy as a popular literary genre. It started with Victorian childrens’ writers such as Lewis Carroll and J.M. Barrie, chronicled the cult of Tolkien and his rise to near god-like status in the sixties (a state of affairs, apparently, that appalled him); and finished with the notable writers of modern times, including Terry Pratchett and China Mieville (who I still haven’t read… so many books, so little time, sigh). As a life long fantasy fan, this series was for me what a doughnut is for Homer Simpson (I didn’t do that drooling thing, “Mmm… Doughnut”, but I certainly felt like doing it).
What I particulary loved was the little insights into the writers’ minds. What compelled them to invent fantastic creatures and awesome landscapes, often during periods when everyone else was writing middle-class, kitchen sink dramas? It also reminded me how much I adore Terry Pratchett, god love ‘im. A real British institution, the man should have his own statue in Trafalgar Square. He was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, which is a ridulously tragic disease for a man with his imagination.
I’ve abstained from picking up a Discworld novel for far too long. When I was in my pre/early teens, Pratchett was my favourite author. I read as many Discworld books as I could get my grubby little hands on. I even had the map of Ankh Morpork pinned to my bedroom wall and cherished the signed copy of Johnny and the Dead I won in a competition (using a photograph of an unfortunate pen pal because I was too wussy to have my own mug displayed in a national paper… but that’s another story). The thing was, I always knew the Discworld stories were supposed to be humourous, but I was too young to get the joke. I loved them because the characters rocked and the plots were engrossing (plus I had a crush on Death, oh dear), but they never made me laugh. Since watching Worlds of Fantasy and finally understanding what that line in The Colour of Magic about Rincewind’s enduring hetrosexuality meant, I suddenly have the burning need to read them all again. Thank you BBC!
I would have posted a neat little clip from YouTube, but for some reason the BBC won’t let you embed their videos (and I’m a license payer, dammit!), so you’ll have to make do with this text link. You can still see the entire last episode on the BBC’s iPlayer site, although it’s only up until Wednesday 19 March so you’ll have to be quick. You’ll also have to be patient. I missed this episode and watched it online, braving the terribly slow rate of download and frequent pauses while it caught up with itself. I would say that rather than making the unmissable, unmissable, the BBC have made it unwatchable. But that would just be callous
