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12 Books in 12 Months

writing books and blogging about it

How Twitter Helps

The @12books12months twitterfeed is a terrifying and time consuming place.  I follow authors, agents, publishers and book bloggers from all over the world and am constantly bombarded with links to articles about writing, publishing and blogging.  Interesting, but overwhelming.

This evening I’ve read a few that stood out, so I thought I would link them.

10 Ways to Tell You Have Author Potential is fairly self explanatory title.  I seem to tick some, but not all of the boxes.

How to Become A Better Writer is one of many posts that appear almost daily on this theme, and covers the bases as well as any.

The Influence of Anxiety is the most interesting of the three, because rather than give hints and tips on what we ought to be doing it focuses on what a lot of authors actually do, including taking ages over one tiny bit of writing, procrastinating, and comparing oneself to everyone else and coming up short (easier than ever before thanks to twitter, facebook and blogging).

Meanwhile, another #WIP

April 28th

Festival of Floralia begins today.  We’re having more games in the Circus Maximus to celebrate, at which the people will be showered with beans.  My idea.  It’ll be really funny to watch, but also they won’t mind, because they’re being given free food.  Brilliant.

Oops

Slightly too long for a #WIP (a thing on Twitter where you post 140 characters worth of a work in progress to get feedback) so thought I would post it here.

Just heard that my order to let Sextus Papinius go was somehow misconstrued as “execute him.”  Honestly, communications in this place are a nightmare. I’m not being racist, but I think it’s because there are slaves from all over the empire and frankly a lot of their Latin is absolutely appalling.  Anyway, long story short, Papinius is no more.

A Side Note

If you’re at all interested in what I’m doing when not writing about Caligula, this post is for you.  I wouldn’t want you to get the impression I’m doing nothing but faffing about on Wikipedia trying to work out roughly when each of his senators died under mysterious circumstances (although the timeline is taking up quite a lot of time and effort at the moment, and it’s making my brain feel sad).

Until the end of February I am blogging about song lyrics on my ‘professional‘ blog in support of UNESCO’s Let’s Get Lyrical campaign.  So far I’ve mentioned the lyrical stylings of The Smiths, Justin Timberlake, Willow Smith, Amanda Palmer, Sisqo, *NSync, Razorlight and Avril Lavigne.

I try to write about something or other daily on my personal blog, often television (particularly Scottish soap River City) and things that have annoyed me in my internet travels.  This tends to involve a bit of backdating.

This week I’ve also been conducting interviews and writing articles for The Broughton Spurtle and The Edinburgh Reporter, which are both hyperlocal news sites in Edinburgh.  And I’ve gotten involved with a new page of satirical Scottish news stories, called I We Two Three.

It’s good to vary one’s output.

Burns Night

Today I have mostly been researching Roman Feast Days that might have given Caligula an excuse to organise a party or three, and watching MTV Classic – easily the best of all the MTV channels, it turns out.  90s hour is particularly fun.

Some of the festivals include:

January 15th – Festival of the Ass

This was not a tribute to bootylicious Roman ladies, but a commemoration of the time the goddess Vesta was saved by a donkey.  Oh come on, you remember that story!  She was the daughter of Saturn the fertility god?  Known for her chastity?  In lieu of rohypnol a shady character by the name of Priapus decided to try and do the nasties with her whilst she was asleep?  But a donkey brayed and woke her up so she escaped?  Surely everyone knows this….

February 15th – Lupercalia

Celebration of the she-wolf who suckled Romulus & Remus. A load of priests got together in a cave, sacrificed a goat, and anointed the Lupercii – young blokes – with the blood. Then some other priests wiped the blood away, using milk, like the wolf would have done I suppose.  The boys then skinned the goat and ripped the hide into strips which they tied around their waists.  Oh, did I mention they were topless?  Well they were.  Then they then got pissed and ran around Rome whacking everyone they met with these goatskin thongs.   As in the aforementioned strips of hide, not the pants favoured by Sisqo.  Young women who got in the way were thought to be blessed, especially in terms of fertility and procreation.  Go them.

June 11th – Matralia

To celebrate the goddess Mater Matuta, her statue was decorated with garlands by single women or women who had been married once.  They also cooked her cakes in clay pots.  Those are the best kind of cakes, don’t you think?  One female slave was allowed into temple on this day, and as part of the festivities she’d be ritually slapped on the head and then chased out of the building.  BANTER.

Compared to his peers, you have to wonder whether Caligula was actually as eccentric as they say…

An excerpt

Currently working my way through the possible torture of the many people involved in plots to kill Caligula.

In this entry the praetorian guard have already questioned and tortured the beautiful actress Quintilia, but she’s given them nothing.  The next step has been to bring in the guy she’s sleeping with, Quintus Pomponius.

Pomponius knows something, but he’s not the main guy.  No huge shock, I realise – he’s hardly got the makings of a criminal mastermind.

Still, I subjected him to a little light torture, mainly on the grounds it’s his fault that poor Quintilia is in such a state.  He should never have involved her in this mess.  I’d never use Caesonia in such a way.  Or I hope I wouldn’t, at least.

Anyway, we ended up giving him a full pardon, at which point he kissed my feet in thanks.  It was actually gross, by the way.  I’m going to have to burn these sandals; the slobber of sycophants and traitors is notoriously impossible to remove.  I’m also making sure Quintilia is given compensation money, hopefully enough that she can remove herself from Pomponius’s company as soon as possible.  I do hope she isn’t in love with the man, he’s so not worth it.

The doctors say she may never act again, certainly not in the ‘beautiful heroine’ role.  Her nose is practically on the other side of her face now.  And yet, she seems to bear Cassius Chaera no ill will.  Towards the end of her interrogation she even gave him a little smile, and I’m absolutely positive it wasn’t a triumphant one.  It just seemed warm and kind.  Reassuring, even.  Surely she ought to be furious with him for destroying her livelihood with a few well-aimed blows?

There again, maybe she’s just biding her time.  Her talent for acting has fooled me before.

To fill you in, Cassius Chaera was one of the guards who actually assassinated our hero not long after.  Quintilia was supposed to have made a sign to indicate to him whilst she was being tortured that she wouldn’t give them away.  That’s dedication to the cause.

A Day In The Life of Book One

I have recently decamped from Edinburgh to Perthshire, to house-sit for my parents and write Caligula’s Blog in idyllic rural surroundings at temperatures of -6.

The main reason my folks need someone around is because they keep chickens.  Poultry cannot be left to their own devices, as they are deeply stupid.  So here I am, working my way through the freezer, and popping outside every ten minutes to see whether they’ve gone round the front of the house so I can steal their eggs like an ornithological Fagin.  When I do this, I’m supposed to leave replacement eggs so they don’t get suspicious of the vanishing act and go find somewhere else to lay.  But sometimes, they come round and catch me red handed!  Awkward.  More often though, they haven’t gone round the front at all, so I step out of the door and they cluster round me, cooing ineffectually, whilst I  perform a circuit of the front garden, hands in pockets, nonchalance personified.

A writing day in Blairgowrie, then (based on my experience of one day):

9.30ish – Wake up and free the chickens from the coop.

10.30ish – Settle down to write maybe 1000 words of Caligula’s Blog.

11.30ish – Go outside on egg watch.

11.40ish – Come back inside, eggless.  Check email, facebook, twitter.

11.45 – Polly Toynbee has joined Twitter!  And she got like 900 followers in her first ten minutes!  That’s how popular I want to be…

12.30 – Realise I’ve been faffing about on the net for ages.  Go and make a coffee.

12.35 – Looking outside I can see two of the three chickens out back.  One is digging a hole.  Surely this is enough of a distraction for me to carry out operation egg theft?!

12.36 – Other chicken still on guard duty.  Dammit.

12.40 – Digger chicken is sitting in the hole it has just made, not doing much.  Looks happy enough though.

12.45 – Decide I must do the dishes.  NOW!

13.00 – I should shower.

13.30 – Go to co-op for milk.

14.00 – Make lunch.

14.20 – Hear knocking at patio door and am faintly freaked out as I would have seen a visitor go by one of the windows…  Turns out to be fowl play.

14.30 – Settle to write another 1000 words.

15.30ish – Egg watch success!  Ali: 1, Chicken: 0!

15.40ish – Tea/coffee/Twitter/email

16.40ish – Chickens go to bed.  Shut them away so nothing can eat them.

17.00 – Drive to Perth to collect boyfriend from grandparents.

21.30 – Return and watch many episodes of South Park.

23.30 – Discover Dragon Wars on SyFy.  It’s pretty bad, so we fall asleep on the couch.

So there you go, that’s the writing process in action.  Stealing eggs and social networking.  Caligula would be proud.  Perhaps tomorrow will be more productive…

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