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Not A Porbelm

5/10/2015

4 Comments

 
Olny srmat poelpe can raed tihs.

No – don’t you believe a word of that. You don’t have to be smart to read the next two paragraphs.

Cdnuol’t blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg hree. The pheonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to rsacreeh at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, mnaes it deosn’t mttaer in waht odrer the ltteers in a wrod are. The olny iprmoatnt tnhig is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can slitl raed it wouthit a porbelm.

Tihs is bcuseae the hmuan mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig, huh? Yaeh, and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt.

The human mind is a fascinating thing. And I’m sure you’ve all heard that urban myth that we only use around 10 per cent of our brain. Poppycock and twaddle, is that. Believe you me, if my brain had the power lying dormant within it, for me to move objects simply by willing them, and to uncork my bottle of wine by a mere thought, I’d have found it long ago.

But harnessing and using the brain power we have, is a completely different pan of sausages. "The potential of the human mind is subject to, and limited only by, our individual beliefs or un-belief as to whether we can accomplish a thing or not," according to enlightenment coach Chuck Danes. And what about Franklin D. Roosevelt’s classic line…? "Men and women are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.”

Some of us just use our brain power in different ways. Some are good at maths – and some of us certainly ain’t!  I’m sure my maths teacher at school was in love with me, because she always used to put little red kisses next to my sums. The only thing I was good at was friggin’ spelling!  And now look what they say about that!

I think I may set up a campaign calling for numbers to be accepted in any order, because olny srmat poelpe konw tihs: 8 x 4 = 23 and 7 x 7 = 94.
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Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

5/4/2015

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D’you remember the old saying: “Out of the mouths of babes,” meaning a small child says something that surprises you because it shows an adult's wisdom and understanding of a situation?

I reckon I must have been about five when I was having tea with my Mum, Grandmother and Grandfather. Suddenly I needed to say something, and started to talk. But unfortunately for me, Mum and Granny were in full flow.

Mum turned to me sternly: “Stewart, we’re talking. Be quiet.” So I was duly quiet for a few moments, but the urgency of the situation grew.

“Mum…” 

“Stewart, be quiet.”

Another minute passed. “Mum…there’s….”

“Stewart, you wait until Granny and I have finished talking before you say anything.” To which I replied: “If I wait for you and Granny to finish talking I should never say anything.” At this juncture my Grandfather started choking on his cup of tea, before eventually uttering the immortal phrase: “Out of the mouths of babes.”

Order was swiftly restored, as was Mum and Granny’s full flow.

When they finally finished, Mum turned to me and said: “Now, Stewart, what did you want to say?”

“I just wanted to say there was a big hair on Granny’s piece of cake. But she’s eaten it now.”

Cue Grandfather choking on his tea again.

That episode also brings to mind another wise old saying: “Children should be seen and not heard.” Do you think that’s why I developed into the quiet, shy, retiring wallflower I am today? Cue my Grandfather’s ghost choking on his tea.  
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Blood Moon

5/4/2015

7 Comments

 
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My gentle ghost story, "Hello Dear," has been published in Mary Blowers' anthology, Blood Moon, which came out in April.  

I am one of 12 writers from across the globe to have stories in the book. All the tales are about transformations of some kind.

The book is available both as an ebook and paperback. Main outlets include Amazon, Smashwords, CreateSpace, iTunes, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, and several other online e-book retailers.

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Handcuffed in a Tiny Cell -- Suffering For My Art

5/4/2015

4 Comments

 
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My short story The Twitter Bully, part of my recent collection, Thunderlands, is certainly creating a stir.
Since the story first appeared in December, I've been asked on many occasions where the inspiration came from, and what research I did.

Inspiration came from personal experiences on Twitter. I became so outraged about the behaviour of stalkers and bullies who harassed other users, that I became an active anti-bully campaigner. But then they turned their attention to me, and their attacks, stalking and harassment became so intense that I finally quit my campaign

RESEARCH
Research? Well, I know exactly how the victims of such bullying feel...but I had to rely on my imagination to get inside the head of the bully in my story.  

However, an essential part of the story was to parallel the helplessness felt by the bully while he is handcuffed, barefoot, in a tiny, cold cell deep underground, with how helpless his victims feel while they're under attack from his relentless, anonymous, online bullying.

None of them know when he'll strike again...in the same way our bully doesn't know what's going to happen to him in his current predicament.

I knew the story would succeed or fail by this running comparison.  The emotions felt by the bully had to be realistic...I had to get the mix of fear and sheer bravado absolutely right. 

So, I was prepared to suffer for my art. A friend in the police force arranged for me to spend a couple of hours barefoot, with my hands cuffed securely behind my back, locked in an old decommissioned cell.

FRIGHTENING
This cell really was horrendous...it had been taken out of use because it was deemed nowadays to be too uncomfortable for the police force's "customers." It was tiny, around 6'6" square, with a small cubicle which had originally housed a toilet. It was filthy, it was cold, it was frightening.

I knew I'd only be in there for a couple of hours, but when that door clanged shut, I put myself in my character's place, and instantly fear and uncertainty kicked in. The longer I remained incarcerated in that cell, the greater my fears rose.

HELPLESS
A line in the story mentions trying to "undress" the handcuffs -- namely having the bully trying to work his hands under his bum and step over the chain to bring his hands in front of him. I tried that manoeuvre in the cell, and couldn't do it.

The opening of the story was also critical to its success or failure -- and that's why my description of the sounds in the opening sentences had to be realistic. And believe me, they are! The sound of the handcuffs locking around my wrists, and the sound of the door clanging shut and the lock sliding into place showed me exactly how helpless I was...just as the bully's victims felt helpless as he relentlessly attacked them online. 

So, all in all, a lot of the story is based on how I felt during what were probably the longest two hours of my life. With just six feet of wall in all directions, my thoughts were running wild for every one of those 120 minutes.  The research told me everything I needed to know -- and made the story what it is.

Oh, and in case you're wondering what I'm holding in the cell in the photo -- it's a postcard promoting fellow novelist DM Cain's fabulous book The Phoenix Project, which is set in a prison, so it's extremely appropriate!

4 Comments
    Stewart Bint supports mental health charity Lamp Advocacy.

    Click here to donate
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    Author

    Stewart Bint is a novelist, magazine columnist and PR writer. 

    He lives with his wife, Sue, in Leicestershire in the UK, and has two children, Christopher and Charlotte, and a budgie called Sparky.

    Usually goes barefoot.

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