Grief

Grief tastes likes the salty sea

Bites like a salty dog and screams like a spoiled child

It feels like an over enthusiastic aunt cuddling you so tight you can’t breathe

It smells like warm salty blankets and looks like a broken toy

Makes you feel alone in the world and blinds you with abstract pictures through a window in a heavy rainstorm

Grief pains your heart and gives you cramp and a snotty nose and a lump in your throat

Grief sedates you as you cry yourself to sleep

That’s what grief is

Brent Cross Shopping Centre

A concrete tomb smothered in glass

Come buy your wares here

Come push through the vultures for a bargain

Push through the surge of angst and plastic gold

Strangers ram into you spilling coffee on your shoulder

They are shopping here but there’s a rush

A rush to what?

I never knew, because here bargains are few

Screams of children and laughter and loud voices echo through the sarcophagus

Piercing your ear drums as you pass

Fresh dough scenting the air with expensive perfume

Choking on the gilded air

Poor people watch and stare

Buy lollipops from Marks and Spencer’s just to get the bag

So people back on the estate think, they aren’t so poor – the snobs

That’s what it’s like in old Brent Cross

Push or die?

I will not be participating in Inktober this year due to lack of supplies and lack of money to buy new supplies.

I will not ask for a crowdfund for Inktober, I have had friends online suggest I do this, but I am uncomfortable with that.  Also, I don’t think I’d have the time between now and my deadline to do four hours of artwork per day on top of it all.

I am having a hard time emotionally in the last few weeks, lots of bad news in the family, near and far. 

Really, instead of sticking to my deadline I should take a couple of weeks off everything but housework and child rearing to recuperate; but I set this goal and I won’t forgive myself unless it is accomplished, even if I don’t get an agent like I want to, at least I can say I did try on my set timeframe.

I will miss doing Inktober, I enjoy this event every year and I tend to do my best artwork during those times (autumn theme is the best), but this year I just can’t manage the time to do it.

I am juggling my own mental health problems along with my son’s problems and Paul’s stress about the heat or eat crisis here in the UK as well as general family grief over the diagnosis of cancer of two relations, the death of a cousin and the loss of a child friend who recently broke her back horse-riding and has to live for several months in a hospital fifty miles away and my own yet to be diagnosed neurological issue.

Henry’s issues are existential, he is having gender crisis issues and is suicidal because he wants to be both genders at the same time, but is being severely bullied at school over it as well as his very elaborate fashion tastes, a penchant for pink, faux fur and glitter as well as tailored clothing; it isn’t so bad, but he is being picked on because of his surname and the fact that he speaks excellent King’s English – in other words he is quite posh for the area.

The bullies threw sticks and stones at the house at the start of the year, the police had to deal with it.

It is hard to manage his behaviour at times, because he is constantly punishing himself physically and it is exhausting to constantly be his sentinel to watch him and physically stop him harming himself.  Paul blames Dobby from Harry Potter for him starting this, because before Henry got into Harry Potter, he’d never harm himself.  Although people find Dobby funny, living with a child who is re-enacting what Dobby does is far from humorous, it’s downright blooming scary, especially when the child starts punching himself in the chest during dinner and forgetting he has a knife and fork in his hands!

This is not the reason however, that Paul and Henry often argues with each other over, on the contrary, it’s almost everything, they see eye to eye on very little.

For me it is mostly mental exhaustion, because Henry is particularly challenging lately.  I am also exhausted because I have no social life and the only person I have to talk to is exhausted both physically and mentally to the extent we hardly talk more than twenty minutes per day together alone anymore – Paul.

I haven’t written towards my novel since the 20^th September 2022, hopefully by this posts scheduled date I’d have written more towards it, but it is difficult. 

I am trying to keep myself active in some kind of creativity though, mostly poems and scheduling blog posts, reading about how to structure different kinds of poetry and learning about screenwriting, just to keep doing something to keep me sane.

But I have to say, I am struggling to make sense about anything and I am pretty sure in a couple of months’ time, when things have calmed down a bit more and I re-read this month’s posts, I will wonder where the heck my mind was all through these weeks?

A couple of friends of mine have DM me who are already published authors, they believe because of my stressful time and because it is generally a bad time of the year for finding representation, that I should hold off until February – but I am debating this.

You see, I fully want to approach an agent before Christmas, because I’ve planned it for so long.  January I will start my YouTube channel and I will look into affiliate programs and my blog will become more focused too, with photographs of me and my artwork etc.

I am determined that life starts at forty and I am forty on the 3^rd October 2022.

Paul is super stressed out by my proclamation of starting a new life in October, because he sees his cup as half empty and doesn’t see how I am able to do all my plans for a new life, when we can’t pay our heating bills and our food budget is going to be halved from next month. Remember I’ve said in the past I don’t go to doctor appointments anymore, because we can’t afford the taxi fare, well, whether I am sick or not from next month or onwards, I can only go now in a life or death situation, meaning I am neglecting myself medically all the more!

It’s that or food, or it used to be like that – now its the doctor, food or heating and we’re choosing food right now, we’ve stocked up on hot water bottles and over the years we’ve bought fleece blankets, thank goodness!

But I say, financially our lives will improve from January, because I am stubborn and I will make something happen, I am not like Paul – I don’t like making do and I don’t like making excuses for being in poverty, I don’t whine and sit back hoping for someone to give me a leg up.

I was bedbound sick for years, but I eventually got a little better and now able to do more around the house – but still not strong enough for my January plans – but still, I am going to force it, because I can’t stand this life!

I refuse to tolerate it any longer!

Paul has convinced himself our relationship is over once I get published, because he doesn’t see why I would want to stick around, it’s almost like he is pushing me away these days.

My choice is to push myself out of the mud no matter what the pain or the embarrassment or commit suicide; one or the other and I chose life!

Happy reading…

Lessons from life

Things I learned from life

How to sing from my grandma and where I want to be

How to dodge a face slap when someone takes aim at me

When to talk and when to run, knowing who is a foe and who is a chum?

Where to hide and where to play

How to laugh and what to say

Where to find peace and where to write

What to do to avoid a fight

How to smile when I hurt and hold my tongue about the jerk

How to pull a punch and line, so folk don’t go down in crime

When to make a stand at all and how not to become a fool

Where to go so that I can shine and how I found God divine

When to love and how not to hate

I won’t forget my past mistakes!

A task set by the book “how to grow your own poem” by Kate Clanchy, learning I made a mistake with this poem that I fell back into rhyming, I should do another like this but remember not to rhyme.  The subject should be about your life and the things you’ve learned, where and how and all of that and maybe even about where you see your life is going?

Happy reading!

The intention

I lick the blade that you prepared to wound me with

I took it whilst you slept

I know you intended to kill me in the morning as I sleep

But I saw through you and took your knife

I sit over you, watching you sleep

You have no idea I have this knife

You sought to take my life

I look at you sleeping in yours

Peaceful

Like deathly sleep

As you intended this knife to be to me

My sleeping pill

Though I hold this knife, I mean you no ill

I know your intention

I knew your plan

I take the knife and place it back in the drawer in the kitchen

I leave a note on my pillow as I leave

I know your plan

Hate me when I thought you loved me

You didn’t need to kill me

I would gladly go

If I have caused you any pain or woe

Goodbye my love

I forgive you

Blessed stinging eyes

My eyes are stinging with the breaking of my heart

All joy is vacant here

The shadows are inviting me to a party

But I decline

The light offers me its blessings

But I deny

I am OK in this state

For in this state I am learning

I don’t always know what my lesson is

But to me

To me I will learn in any case

Eventually…

I don’t wallow in self-pity and sadness

To me everything is education

Although I am swallowed up by tears, I feel blessed

I have a blessed life

Things could be much worse than this

Gratitude goes a long way

Even if you don’t enjoy what it is you have

At least things are not worse than this

That is why I am blessed

Some people kill for suppositions

Some people know what it’s like to be so multicultural that they call you fake

Call you a wannabe, call you a snake

Some people know what it is like to live in different classes, but mostly being poor

Some people call you a fake and they close their doors to you

Some people know what it is like to be fat then thin, then fat again and thin again

Body changing constantly like the tides of the sea

Some people know what it is like to be me

Some people think I can’t possibly be, all these things, that make me, me

A half gypsy grandma with Greco Italian roots who is a quarter cast to boot

Married a half jew that was raised catholic, a cockney with a Welsh grandmother

Clutching rosaries and cursing the church, what a sight, how absurd?

But that was them my maternal side

I have nothing bad to hide

I love my family and they love me

But still society picks on me

Because I am fake, didn’t you know?

I can’t possibly be all the things I know

Even fake still my paternal side

My grandpa who watched the genocides

Whilst smoking pipes in his wheelchair, writing letters like he didn’t care

Calling himself a Christian and a lord some spit at him and some applaud

Is he German or Austrian? I never knew, but my grandma said he could be the two

But she knew he was Italian too, wearing black shirts and doing poo

She was ashamed of him, I am too

She was different, the opposite, with her Dutch roots and Irish eyes smiling, though her hair was dyed, worshipping Jesus and the saints like a good catholic woman

Swimming in the seas of war saving sailors, now that I applaud and dancing with the majorettes, a descendant of the oldest aristocratic family of Europe, the most loving person I could ever know

Teaching me how to speak and grow

Won’t tell me about grandad you know?

I can’t blame her really, can you?

Not if he wore blackshirts supporting poo

But you call me fake, don’t you?

So you don’t believe a word

Because all this mixture is too absurd

My grandma hid a fact from her husband and it was simply this

Her great grandpa was from Vietnam, I imagine he’d be really pissed!

Fascists think they are pure and true and yet they are very wrong

Everyone is related yet they say it’s wrong

I know what it’s like to not be believed

I get it everyday

This is why I don’t talk that much, because I have nothing else to say

I am who I am and I am a mix

But you call me liar, so I’m in a fix

Because I tell the truth, yet you say I lie

But I do not and it makes me cry

My mother skipped from faith to faith

Trying to find her feet

Kept doing this and that, making things hard for me

I decided long ago that the only faith that’s real

Is the old testament and nothing else

Because the new one was written to steal

Steal God’s people away from him

By other liars true

If you think about it, you will see that what I say is true

Most religions stem from the Jews

Isn’t it a funny thing?

How the Jews are the smallest culture

Yet the liar’s faith grows and sings?

Yes the prophets were all good men

But why pray to them so?

Pray to the source, which is God and all the bad things will go

I feel blessed in my life, since I started to pray to source

But you are angry to hear this, I understand of course

A culture that lasted centuries can get set within their ways

I cry for all the lost children

I cry and pray each day

That you will return to God and see what the deceiver has done

Playing cousin against cousin, watching the chaotic fun!

But that is something off my chest

I needed you to know

Because I love you no matter what

You are lost through all the woe

This poem was not meant to preach

But show you all my life

But things have a funny way to show

Who holds a candle and a knife?

I know what it’s like not to be loved

I know what it’s like to hurt

I know what it’s like to have a mother who pushes you away into the dirt

I know what it’s like to have a father who watches what she does

But sits afraid of losing her and sits with you in the mud

I know what its like to love and lose

I know what its like to be alone and bruised

I am tall but I am not strong

So many people have done me wrong

Yet I still love and care for them

Because I believe in Lord Hashem

He’d want me to look after them and show them another way

I know what it’s like not to be heard

But that’s Ok

I am sorry I got a bit carried away with this poem; this poem was the second task from the book “How to grow your own poem” by Kate Clanchy.

This was supposed to be my own version of “Some People” by Rita Ann Higgins.  https://www.lyrikline.org/sl/pesmi/some-people-5711  I must apologise in advance for the swearing that is quite strong in this poem.

But I really do know what it’s like to have such a mix heritage that almost everybody thinks I lie about it to impress them, but I really don’t.  It’s really hard not to talk about your family and their ways when your family has literally been your only life.

I really do feel for people who have got lost in lies.  But the thing is, I understand that the prophets etc that are included in religious rituals were good people too.  I understand that, but religion has deflected away from God so much because they prefer to pray through those prophets and then wonder why things aren’t as blessed as they should be. 

I honestly have known Christians who believe that Jesus is God, some of the more educated understand that he isn’t, but still they pray through him, not directly to God?  Can you imagine how God feels about that?  Especially as the supposed Messiah has not fulfilled their promise told in The Old Testament? 

Did you know when the true Messiah comes to Earth no one can doubt him, not even the tiniest bit?  That when he comes all will feel he is the genuine one and it will cause instant peace on Earth that lasts forever, then after people have seen the Messiah, God himself will come down from heaven and destroy heaven so that Earth becomes paradise?  The Torah says this.  It’s something to think about isn’t it?

It was Gods promise that he would do this.  Thing is, I am not jewish, my great grandmother was, but I was raised in three types of Christianity whenever my mother wanted the change – Anglican, Jehovah’s Witness and Catholic, I never knew what I was supposed to be growing up, that’s why I went and researched religion so much, to find out what the blazes the truth is!

I chose to be a non-participating Noahide until further notice, because I am confused. A Noahide is what Jews call a righteous gentile, a person who wasn’t raised in the Jewish faith properly and who believes in God and prays to him and sometimes they are converted fully into Judaism, some never are. I participate in private prayer to God, but I have not joined any communities yet.

Why? Because I find my relationship with God is a private one and I understand that this world is rife with hate and violence.

Studying every form of religion that stemmed from Judaism and then Judaism itself made things abundantly clear to me; it’s nonsense all these religious wars because everyone who stemmed from Judaism, should still be Jewish, not killing each other over what version of lies they love the best. 

Yes the deceiver is true and real, but I can’t help but think that billions of people can be wrong and duped. 

Even the Jews themselves have sort of lost their way a little, when the Sadducees and Pharisees started changing things, making the original seven laws of God into Ten and then all of a sudden six hundred and thirteen!  How did that happen?

Most Christians I know have no idea that Jesus was even a rabbi, they believe he was just a carpenter, but that is partly true, but also yes, he was a rabbi! 

Honestly I have been there and experienced all this myself and like you, I was astounded at what I found and I was deeply pained in the knowledge that all those who believe in the same God, still fight and kill each other, it’s utterly ludicrous!

A major part of my depression is knowing all of this and crying daily because I see cousin against cousin and for what?  For suppositions, that’s all!  Just mere suppositions!   

I became like my mother in my early adult years, skipping from faith to faith trying to find out why God ignores me and it wasn’t until I decided to connect with my spirit guides and ask them why he ignores me, that they told me one simple thing.

“Have you thought about talking directly to God without going through another entity, not even us, your guides”? 

To be perfectly honest – no I didn’t!

Because so often I was told that God is too busy to listen to all of us hence the angels and the prophets; but don’t you think that this disempowers him? 

Don’t you believe for one second that God has created all of this and he has the time to care for all of it, that he wouldn’t go beyond his own personal limits that he is limitless and will respond?

Because I believe he doesn’t take on more than he can chew personally.  I believe he has the time but the thing is, do you have the heart for it?  Do you have the inclination to respect his wishes from you and treat him with respect and talk to him respectfully like you would any monarch upon the earth?

Don’t talk to him like a beggar would, that’s disrespectful, humble yourself, but don’t beg.  Be mindful of his power, be mindful of his love and don’t try to abuse him in prayer.

You need to pray in a way where you ask him to teach you, ask him to show you things, so you can help yourself, because if there is one thing I have learned about God are that he despises laziness.  He made you in his image remember; would you dare to call God lazy?

He is there to help because he loves you, but he helps you only when you ask him to. 

He doesn’t give you things on a plate, you say “Oh I am so poor” give me some money please”.  No matter how polite you are, that is lazy prayer with no intention of helping yourself.

Instead say this; “Show me a way that I can raise my income without it being boring and affecting my health negatively”, he answers by dreams or synchronicities – signs.

If you are sick do not complain about it to him just ask him “Am I sick because here is something I haven’t learned yet?  Are you preventing something?  Are you trying to slow me down because you are worried that I may be reacting too fast I’d get into trouble?  Or are you trying to show me something else, please gives me signs why I am sick”.  He helps.

I have longstanding problems with my hearing and ear health, when I asked him to show me why this was, apparently in a dream I learned that it was because I was constantly telling people “I don’t want to hear about your problems, I don’t want to hear your criticisms” and I realised God was more or less granting me a wish.

Do you have leg problems or hip problems?  Have you ever flippantly said to other people you need to slow down?  Or you wished you could relax more?

Think about it.

I didn’t mean for this post to be preachy, but I am a water dog in Chinese astrology and I can’t help but flow to what I feel is right at the time… my apologies.

I better stop there.

Thanks for reading and much love to all of you!

Abstract poetry rookie

I was always confused by poetry; especially the poetry which doesn’t rhyme because I was always taught that poems must always rhyme, when in fact, this isn’t so.

I have learned recently through a book called “how to grow your own poem” by Kate Clanchy that there is something in the world called “Abstract poetry” which doesn’t necessarily require you to rhyme your words, in fact by doing so it can come across as boring, predictive and limited.

Much like trying to understand abstract art, I am now in the process of trying to learn to understand abstract poetry and I have to say, I am finding this more difficult than the art.  I know that art is subjective, but words mean a lot to people, how can you be abstract with your written words and people to understand what the heck you are saying to them?

With art you should paint what you feel and you don’t need to explain yourself if you don’t want to, because the person who buys your art would find it visually appealing for them – but with words, that’s different surely a few things that mean a lot to me pulled together would utterly confuse another person reading them?

Let me try for example to do this now, in a state of total ignorance to abstract poetry;

My Heart (is the title)

Butterflies weep within the cage that is placed within my chest

Their wings breathe me life, sorrow and love

Nobody can see my caged butterflies, but I know they are there

Flittering around the cage, crying at beauty and pain alike

Those butterflies want to be free, but they are trapped

They know that if they found freedom I would die

My life is everything to them

Now for me this is beautiful, it totally explains how I feel within my heart and what my heart means to me, but did anyone else feel it too?  Maybe I have been too sheltered to understand that these things other people can feel and understand, but I would like to think that the above poem wasn’t too difficult to grasp.  If the above indeed was what true abstract poetry is all about, then I think I would love doing more poems like that about other things.

But is it what’s expected by people who understand and have experienced abstract poetry?

If you know anything about abstract poetry, please let me know if I have understood it, or whether or not my poem wasn’t vague enough… if that’s possible?

Thanks for reading!

I am exhausted

For the past few weeks it has been a mentally exhausting time for me and my whole family; Some people from my past have been trying to contact me again and I have learned recently that two relatives on my side of the family have cancer, and understanding that more distant relations are also suffering loss; along with this I have been trying to manage my sons increasing anxieties and screaming matches between him and his father amongst other things, such as the house falling apart, quite literally due to storm damage and damp.

All of it has taken its toll on my physical health and unusually I have been sleeping eleven to thirteen hours a day and still unsatisfied with the rest.  Consequently for the past five days in particular, I have not written a word towards any novel and this is going to severely affect my chosen deadline.

Paul would like me to stick to my deadline but also understands that I should not push myself to do it by the deadline, because my mental health and mental growth is more important – however, I have people waiting for my work and that gives me a sort of pressure.

Also my perfectionism drives me to the point of insanity and if I make a statement about doing something by some self-imposed deadline, I am merciless even to myself if I fail it.

What is frustrating about all of this is the mental bashing has come at a time when physically I was showing big signs of improvement because of the high protein diet and small activities I have been doing as well as giving up the caffeine. 

It is almost like bad luck is queuing up, waiting their turn.

I told Paul recently that I feel like I am cursed, or that I have somehow cursed him because he had a wonderful family and a sort of happy life before he met me and slowly his life is going the downward spiral I have.

It’s like I am an unlucky penny.

I have to say, it’s one of the many reasons I don’t like to get close to new people, because I really do think I bring them bad luck.  However, take me to a casino and you wouldn’t believe it, I have been used as a good luck trophy at those places in the past for good reason!

My grandma in particular loved me tagging along with her at bingo and casinos, because she would regularly win large prizes and a couple of exes owe big wins to me too; but in everything else though, I seem to doom people who live with me to a hard life.

I noticed it only affects people I live with if the people are happy with stagnation, so maybe it’s not me after all?  I noticed people with an ambitious drive for life etc; seem to do better around me than those who are happy as they are.  I don’t know, but it does affect my confidence somewhat.

I need people in my life who is energised by positivity and excitement on a consistent basis, that the more positive energy and drive the person they live with has, the more they have – but I noticed some people are different, some people get the energy from me for a short time, love being around me, but to live with me drains them and then consequently they drain me.

It’s a strange phenomenon.

Paul is convinced I am an anomaly, that there are very few people like me who can have consistent positive energy without falling apart eventually.

I am drained by stagnation and people who make do.

Gosh I sound bad.

Well in any case, at the moment I am drained and I am finding it hard to keep my positive outlook and that is affecting productivity.

I am beginning to think that October 21^st was a bad idea, I should have kept with my instinct of the 23^rd of January, but I believe I got a little cocky, thinking that being firm with everyone in my household would make people back off each other and I could be more productive.  Instead, some people have used this against me in order to become worse. 

Henry in particular openly confessed to me he doesn’t want me to be successful and potentially famous because that would mean he would become famous too and he doesn’t want that.  This is a major reason why Henry has been trying to be sick from school a lot, even becoming bulimic in the process to be sent home from school because of the vomiting factor, and so he understands whilst he is at home I cannot write because of the screaming matches between him and his father, who is home all day too.

Often I try to diffuse the screaming matches to no avail, because it just seems to make things worse, no matter how calm and collective I try to be.  The both of them are as bad as each other and so often I sit there just watching them scream at each other, because most of the time they don’t hear me anyway.

It did work, me being in the bedroom writing on my laptop for a couple of days, but Henry started to scream louder to the extent he nearly lost his voice, just because he wanted to disturb me.  He then started to sit outside the bedroom whilst I wrote, in order to play his robot wars with the loudest commentary he could muster.  This is what I am trying to work around; I have little support from Paul who seems to be falling apart at the seams in every single way right now.

It’s exhausting because it is almost constant now.

I have learned to write when they go to Tesco’s forty five minute bursts every three days, not enough.

I am trying to get a handle on my physical health so I can go to a café to write, because really, even the nosiest café in town is quieter than here and this house is getting a reputation in the street in being the mad house, because neighbours can clearly hear what the yelling is exactly about, it’s that bad!

They’ve even asked if I still live there as they noticed I am the quietest person here and they rarely hear me!

I can’t afford to sit in a café daily, but even if it’s twice a week I’d get more work done there than I would here, but I need to walk there and I need a while to get strength back into my legs.  Because I have been bedbound and housebound sick for years, it has taken me nearly three months of small exercises to be able to stand in the kitchen for fifteen minutes, whilst preparing a fruit salad for myself.  So it will be at least another three to six months before I can walk to Tesco café.

I am not putting off the deadline that long.

But it does mean I have to do unsociable habits; sleeping during the day, so I can write at night.  Waking 11am sometimes 1pm to sleep by 2am only gives me ninety minutes a day, but it’s something.  But it does depend on how exhausting that evening has been.

I am trying hard to pull Henry away from the laptop and robots in order to do something with him that won’t provoke screaming matches between his father and him, but it’s a task to get the boy doing anything else.

I am thinking about going into credit again to buy a shed/office for the garden, but honestly I can’t think about doing that until one debt is completely paid off in March.  If I am still struggling by March, I would have to consider it strongly, so I can work on my novels.

It drives me nuts not being able to write as fast as I want to, even resorting to taking hearing aids out and sitting with cotton wool in my ears, they still manage to penetrate that and I am completely deaf in one ear and 30% hearing in the other; but as I said, they scream loud enough for the street to hear the conversations.

I really don’t say it lightly.

I am knackered.

Happy reading!

Writers that influenced me Part 3

Roald Dahl was one of the first two authors I first discovered and loved throughout my childhood and got me into the habit of reading because of how much I enjoyed their works; the other author was Eric Hill, I was a major fan of Spot the dog.  But Roald Dahl really knew how to identify with children and think like them.

Roald Dahl was one of the first authors I experienced who actually understood how children think and how children might behave in certain circumstances and I enjoyed and respected that about him.

All too easily adult authors try to avoid the snotty nose kids covered in mud aspect of childhood and try to portray children as mini adults and it isn’t accurate!  Many people try to show that children can be brave too, but Roald Dahl fully understands that a growing person often feels fear; especially when they are alone in the world dealing with some pretty big stuff going on around them, how often children are disregarded and ignored by their elders, often in reality children are made to feel inconvenient even by those that care and love them.

He did all of this whilst never deviating from the fact that although some children can rebel and do nasty things to their elders, they still have a certain amount of innocence about them and I admire the balance he had in his stories.

Christopher Moore’s books are hilarious and I read them whenever I am having a hard time, because he is just so funny!  I love how he plays with ideas and makes fun of the aspects of society which seem to be the most serious.

Although most of his books is all about humour he never deviates from excellent high quality storytelling and never forgets the real seriousness of the lives he is writing about, because although he is a light hearted absurdist he is also very dark. 

Again I believe his books have shown me how to write in a balanced kind of way.

Ransom Riggs books are absolutely wonderful, when I first read “Tales of the peculiar” my first book I ever read from him, I actually thought he was an old European storyteller from the times of the brothers Grimm or something and was actually genuinely surprised to find out he is a contemporary writer. 

Reading his books gave me the confidence to realise that the way he wrote the stories is not outdated and it has a certain charm that contemporary readers still enjoy, I always liked this style of storytelling. 

Again I loved the darkness in his books and he sometimes portray the ickiest things with light-heartedness, he has an excellent imagination which shows me that anything you can dream up can be accepted by readers, because he has done it.  There has been times where I felt my own works were too light about the dark aspects of my own stories, where I felt I should think about reader sensitivities, but in doing so I lose myself and my readers will lose too as there are many out there who likes this kind of stuff – I am not alone.

Ransom Riggs is very good at showing how different cultures view things, that not everybody thinks and feels the same and that if magic was part of our reality there are many things we must consider about how magical cultures will be so much different to our own, in such fantastic ways.

Happy reading.