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Campfire Chat #3: Madness

I’m going on a bit of a hiatus for November – like a damn fool-slash-epic genius, I’ve signed up for National Novel Writing Month.  The plan is to finally write this  novel that I’ve had stewing around in the old brain pan for about a year.  It could have been a sign of uncanny foolishness, but I think that a bit of applied pressure is just what I need to at least have a good go at it.

So, have a lovely November without me.  I’ll be slaving away over a hot goulash of raw idea while the Southern Hemisphere begins it’s shimmy into summertime, and any Northerners out there begin having dreams of snowshoes and mittens.  But I’ll be back in December, with more random choices from the bookshelf and other junk as I see fit.  I’ve just started reading Carlito’s Way by Edwin Torres in preparation for December, which is a teeny tiny little book, but should make for interesting reading, since I know that movie like the back of my hand.

Wish me luck then.  I’m off.  But I’ll see you again in December, slightly more deranged than usual.  Hopefully it will be deranged with success rather than utter disillusionment, but you know, better to have tried and failed… blah blah blah.  Ahh.  Novel writing.  Somehow I think I’ll fit right in.

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Campfire Chat #1

Here we all are then.  Welcome to the blog; snuggle up, it’s freezing out here in the wilderness.

Let Mama Wolf tell you a tale.

Once, not that long ago, there was a woman who was fed up.  Fed up she was, with books with pink covers, with the arched eyebrow of bus book-judgers, with only novels being part of book clubs.  So she decided to start a book club of her very own, a place where she would read what she damn well pleased and then tell all her little cublings what she thought, a book club with a membership of one.  She’d even ask the cublings what they thought, as long as they’d been good.  She would ignore the questions in the backs of ‘book club editions’, unless they were really interesting questions of course, and operate under no pretensions about reading matter.  She would read classics, shlock, high-brow and low.  No word was safe.

So, now it begins – Mama Wolf has found her book club, and here it is on the interwebs.  I can’t believe it’s taken me so long, but better late than never.  I hope you enjoy the book club shennanigans; I’ll aim for two a month, but if I get bogged down in real world stuff, then that ain’t gonna happen.  I’ll re-do some of my old favourites, and some new favourites, but I’m gonna keep my rule of Half Way; if a book hasn’t grabbed me by then, I close it (I’ll let you know how I get on… mind you, I did get through the whole of the Twilight saga, so that rule doesn’t get invoked very often).

See you at the campfire sometime soon, cublings.