Author: ChanAtkins

Too Like You

~ ChanAtkins ~ Leave a comment

Memories evoked by music are a bit like dreams sometimes…

You can feel the emotion, there is no avoiding that. That is the thing that hits you over the head, blind sides you and stops you in your tracks. Christ yeah…I forgot about that song…I forgot about that. As well as the emotion there is something visual there, something tapping at the corners of your mind, something stealing into your vision, a bright flash that fades again just as quickly as it came. Like a dream you try to hold onto it, try to hold it still for examination but the more you try to see it and explain it, the more elusive and teasing it becomes. It’s like it does not really want to be caught or defined.

It’s all you can do not to cry, or just sigh. It’s fleeting, like everything in life, here one minute and gone the next, just like the moment itself, when it happened all those years ago. I don’t want to keep getting older and forgetting all of these things.

Money Mark singing Tomorrow Will Be Like Today. That was a new CD you bought over, and it was a small garden, enclosed by tall panel fences. The smell of yesterdays barbeque lingering in the air with cut grass. My knees pulled up onto the plastic garden chair. A crack in one leg playing on my mind. Too Like You. Hand In My Head. Makes me smile and think of you.

Did I become more like you, or did you become more like me?

I used to be the negative one, the worrier, the anti-social, and you used to be the smiler. Sandy haired and loose limbed, you used to say it all of the time; don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t ever worry about anything.

But that is not you now. Now I am the one who encourages you to see the light and to smile. Now I am the one who says don’t worry, and you are the one reluctant to go out there and deal with people and time and life.

You rubbed off on me. That was the way it happened. From moments like that, always with a new album playing in the background. So much of our story has a soundtrack. That’s why it happens like that when I hear a song, when it takes me back. Bang and I am young again. Not sat in the car staring solemnly at the rain on the window while you nip into the shop to buy some bread and milk.

How easily we grew up. It’s not really fair the way it happens like that. It takes you by surprise, because you are never paying attention as the years creep up. Then suddenly a decade has passed, and then another. It’s sometimes like we are still back there, existing back in time. We are two lots of people. Them and us. Then and now.

I am too like you now because you got inside my head.

You say that tomorrow will be like today and I say that sometimes you are wrong. I can’t remember what happened to that day. How did it end? Where did we go? What did we talk about and laugh about? I can just remember the feel of the plastic chair under me and the wobble, the give, from the crack in the leg. I can just remember the music, and that it was summer. I can see your face and the way you always smiled about everything and I can see you walking in with CD’s in your hand. I miss us.

Rainy Day Book Shop…

~ ChanAtkins ~ 2 Comments

Half term. Raining of course. Oldest child wants to stay in all day watching Supernatural on dvd. 10 and 7 year old want to keep playing their car game on the landing. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy too. Another load of washing. Floors to clean. Wet dogs to rub dry. A baby to entertain. But it’s half term, no school! We should be doing something together as a family…

So we force them out. Into their coats and into the car and out into the world and the empty wet streets that lead down to a favourite haunt. Every time we go looking for it I worry that it has gone. That we didn’t go often enough, didn’t keep an eye on it and it vanished, faded away when we weren’t paying attention. Good things do that sometimes. You forget they are there, and then when you need them you find out they have moved on.

But not so The Crooked Book. Push open the door and the smell brings a smile to my face, and I am carrying in the baby with the feeling that I am introducing him to a warm and wonderful place. Which it is anyway. On first glance, on first smell, old and musty and reminds me of my Nan’s house when we were growing up. Old things well cared for. Ceramic basins and wooden spoons. 1920’s wardrobes. 1960’s coats. An ancient typewriter or two. I wonder how many words were tapped out on its keys… Tables and chairs, mismatched and eccentric, two men in suits chatting about a business plan. Free wi-fi. Tea, coffee, cake and soup. But those are not the reasons we come.

We make our way slowly to the back. Where the books are. Piled high and higher still, on clumsy shelves and scruffy displays. The familiar face at the till says hello how are you? We are fine, and we move on, carefully, trying not to knock over anything precious or valuable. Like the books, I want all of the things…And the smell…

The smell of books and thoughts and feelings and dreams. The smell of pages thumbed and worn. The smell of cracked spines and cricked necks. It makes me sigh. My shoulders relax. I hug the baby tighter, and feel the urge to show him all of the books. A whole world, I want to tell him. In fact a million, million worlds. A million, million, million words and ideas and tragedies and triumphs.

It feels safe here. Close and comfortable and sheltered. We huddle in the kid’s section while 7 year old laments the fact they never have the Diary Of A Wimpy Kid book he is after. But we find him a Doctor Who annual to keep him smiling. 12 year old as ever has an armful and we have to cajole her down to just two. 10 year old finds a book on dragons and a book on vampires. I’m lost. Or is it found?

I suddenly remember that I want to read Toni Morrison, so me and the baby hunch down and find M on the bottom shelf in the left hand corner and there is Beloved. Something I have wanted to read for years. Happy, but not done. I find a book by Roddy Doyle that I have not read, and a whole selection of Douglas Coupland novels catch my eye. In the end I choose Beloved and Girlfriend In A Coma. At the till husband is in a world of his own with Marx and Engels…

Fifteen pounds worth of books, smiles all around, priceless and a collective urge to get back home. Back into the warm with a coffee and a biscuit. Our books under our arms, we run back to the car, jumping puddles, job well done. We came, we browsed, we conquered. I feel slightly bereft as always for all the books left behind. Goodbye The Crooked Book. Until next time.

Top Tips Tuesday-A Better Facebook Author Page

~ ChanAtkins ~ 2 Comments

This is my first Top Tips Tuesday blog and I hope you find it useful. When I first started my Facebook author page, I really had no clue what I was doing. It was a frustrating endeavor a lot of the time, as well as one that often felt rather pointless. However, my attitude has really changed and although my following is still small, it is growing. Here are three tips to help yours do the same.

1) PATIENCE is key! You might look around and see other author’s with thousands and thousands of likes while yours is still hovering around 100 or so. They might be doing something right, they might be selling loads of books or they might have paid for them. Of course, you can pay for Facebook likes and Twitter followers, but personally I don’t see the point. They are just faceless numbers and are not likely to result in book sales. It took me ages to get to 100 likes, and even longer to get to 200. In the early days it felt like I was just talking to myself, but I kept it going. You can also pay Facebook to promote your page, but again, this does not guarantee book sales. Or you can work at it. A blog and website with Facebook Like buttons are a must. Joining the big free social media sites like Twitter, Pinterest and Goodreads is another must do. You can link all these sites to each other which means if you post a blog it will get sent to Twitter and Facebook, and so on. Connecting with other authors and/or readers is another way to grow your page. But don’t just follow people and then message them asking them to like your Facebook page or buy your book. That’s spamming and it annoys people. Instead try to foster genuine connections. If someone follows you on Twitter and seems like someone who would enjoy your page, message them to thank them and ask if they would like to connect on Facebook. Note; this means you like their page as well! It works both ways. Keep the conversation going, maybe buy their book and review it. You might never hear from them again, or they might be really touched and do the same for you. Remember that writers are readers too! Be patient and keep working at it and it will grow in time.

2) ATTITUDE! You’ve got to put the right attitude across. This is not your personal page. This is your professional author page, and so you must start acting like a professional. Don’t rant and rave on there. Don’t complain about not having enough likes, or being ignored. Do this in private messages to people who are feeling the same! If you went to see your child’s teacher and they moaned about how much the children annoy them, you wouldn’t be very happy would you? If you went to see the bank manager and he reeled off a load of negative things that had happened in his day, you would think about going elsewhere. Be professional now that you are in the public eye. Moan in private, celebrate in public! Thank people for their likes and engage with them when they comment or post. These likers are your potential readers! They want to feel good when they go to your page. They want to feel inspired when your posts come up on their feed.

3) ACTIVITY! I cannot stress enough how important this is. Keep your page active. Don’t just post on there when you have a new book out. Don’t save it just for posting new reviews. Try to post three or four times a day and keep it interesting. Yes, it should be a platform to shout about your achievements. By all means share your good reviews, but it needs to be much more than that. Share your blog posts, and help other authors by reblogging their posts. Think of your page like your own mini magazine. You are the editor. What will interest your readers? What will keep them coming back for more? Engage them in conversations and debates. I recently had a lot of activity when I discussed the subject of authors giving their books away for free. And that is the key; activity. Remember that if people do not engage with your page, then Facebook will think they have lost interest and will stop showing it to them. You need to keep them liking, commenting and sharing. Tell them your progress, give them updates and teasers. If you are editing, post snippets from your work to get them interested. Asking for help naming characters always goes down well on my page! People love to get involved! Have contests and giveaways. Post interesting articles from other pages. There are so many great pages on Facebook for authors, and you will find a constant stream of advice, top tips, personal stories and blogs, and information that the readers and writers on your page will get something from too. Pay it forward and help out other authors! Read and review their books or share their pages. Think about the times of day you are posting and don’t forget that people in other parts of the world may be going to bed when you are waking up. Try to post throughout the day so that people don’t miss things. Tell people about useful promo sites you have found. Share your experiences.

Don’t give up!

How Writing Has Positively Influenced My Life

~ ChanAtkins ~ 7 Comments

I am writing this for the contest ‘How Writing Has Postively Influenced My Life’ hosted by Positive Writer http://positivewriter.com/writing-contest-how-writing-has-positively-influenced-my-life/#sthash.lKiCckuh.dpuf

Writing has been a positive influence on my life in so many ways. It has been my friend for most of my life. It was my friend when I was a child who had learnt to read. Books opened up my imagination, enticed me to dive in and swim up to the surface with my own ideas exploding. It was there for me then, poking me in the back, winking, telling me I could do it too. I could write a story. And then my head became full of them. They were with me all the time; the stories and the people that came with them. Thanks to writing, I have never been lonely, not once. Writing has been behind me the whole time, urging me on, winding me up, filling my head.

It was there for me when I was an awkward teen, full of self-doubt and negativity. There was always somewhere to stash those feelings when pen hit paper. Words would pour from me like blood being washed from a wound. Every word was a gasp, a letting go. At the same time though, I was holding on. Because I had something that was all mine. Something secret and precious, something that saved my life in so many ways. Something that more than anything else in my life, made me me.

When I think about who I am, I think of writing. When I think about what sets me apart, what makes me stand tall, what makes me smile, and dream and hope, I think of writing. It is something I can never part with, it is something that can never be taken from me.Without it, I would be empty, or I would explode.

I once let it drift. I was so busy with work and children and being exhausted. It was there in my head the whole time though, looking sadly on. Silenced, but still needling. It didn’t let me forget about it. Every time I thought it had gone forever, it would jump up and remind me, sending me off into a dream, a trance, conversations spiralling inside my head. People watching when I did not mean to. Plots weaving slowly between the voices that were piping up.

I got it back before it was too late. I had the urge one day to write and it was like something alive inside of me, clawing at my eyes. I found a notepad and pen and didn’t stop writing for about six weeks. Could I do it? Could I really do it? Rewrite one of my books, one of my stories from long ago? Did I have in me? Did I have any talent? Writing did not give me a choice. Once it had me back in its grips it was not going to let go again. Not a chance. Not ever.

Writing reminded me that I had books inside of me. I had people living inside my head. Actually living there! Knocking on the walls, banging at the door. They were fed up to the back teeth of this; living inside a prison, unable to speak. They wanted to tell their stories, and not just to me this time. They wanted to get out, right out, and into the open. They had all sorts going on, this lot. A real rabble. I’ve had to quieten them down, tell them to be patient and wait their turn. The thing is, some of them have been waiting so long! I don’t think I can write fast enough to keep them happy!

But they will get heard. They will get out. There are readers. I will make it happen. I won’t waste any more time.  Writing has been my friend my entire life. It has made me who I am, it has helped me deal with pain and confusion and desperation; it has taught me how to speak up for the people inside my head, how to make their words dance on the page. Writing is my addiction. It’s how I make sense of the world, and how I keep myself anchored to it. In conclusion, writing makes every single day of my life an exciting one.