50 Shades Of Otter

My dear otterfriends, I am sure that - unlike the oblivious parent of almost any Disney protagonist in the first 5 minutes  - you suspected this was coming. After all, even though my posts tend towards stupid conversations and small snapshots of my life, I have on occasion written about current events.  I really tried to ignore this one, but people kept asking me if I'd read the much-publicised and apparently very poorly-written 50 Shades of Grey (I haven't, and I genuinely really don't want to but I will, as soon as I can find someone to lend me a copy since I refuse to part with actual currency for it) and whether I was planning to blog about it.

Honestly - I wasn't. It seemed like one of those things that happened despite everyone's best efforts ( much like Rebecca Black, or the global financial recession) and I was really hoping that I could ignore for a while until it went away and stopped yelping at me, or at least until the initial fuss died down. However, 50 Shades Of Grey is cropping up more and more in my  life every week. There are people on my Facebook timeline talking about it. There are people on my Twitter timeline talking about it. And, more seriously and much more worrying, I have seen people in real life reading it on public transport. I can no longer avoid it.

50 Shades Of Grey is, from what I can gather, a very basic concept. A naive but beautiful student called Anastasia Steele meets a wealthy young businessman called Christian Grey, and falls in bed/love while ignoring his abusive nature in favour of the fact that he's super chiselled and rich. It was originally based on the author's Twilight fanfiction, and the excerpts I have seen certainly read like total fangirling wank. Let me assure you, this is not Saramago, or Hemingway, or Bulgakov. This is not even in the realm of the most insane fanfic ever written, 'My Immortal'. I'm fairly sure I'd rather read Kafka's The Castle again than attempt to trudge through 50 Shades Of Vom but I will in the name of Doing Science. Also because sometimes even when I know something is so awful that it will give me nightmares if I look at it, I can't help but look anyway. I blame my otter curiosity.

I won't bore you by going over the many issues that I am sure others have already covered in detail (the amazing stupidity of the protagonist; the fact that although she was supposed to be a student, she didn't have an email address until he set her up with one; the fact that the purported BDSM apparently amounts to little more than a light spanking, some rope and a buttplug; and something that bothers me more than anything else - the continued mention of Ana's 'Inner Goddess' and the unusual physical things her Inner Goddess gets up to during various events which include gymnastics, dancing and ice skating for totally inexplicable reasons).

If I do get around to reading it, I will of course review it for your reading pleasure. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this beautiful, amazing video, which you do not need any prior knowledge to enjoy.

O Diabo

Good morning all! This is just a quick post to say that my twitfic story 'O Diabo' has been posted over at http://www.onefortyfiction.com/ - please do check it out!

It's been quite an exciting year for me already and there's still half of it left. At the moment I'm currently working on a story for an ebook prompt about zombie fairytales. It started one way and has now dragged me off in a totally different direction (like a lot of my stories tend to do). I'll keep you up to date on that and all future developments. Happy Wednesday!

Postcards to Zombies

Good morning all! Just a quick note to say that one of my (very) short pieces was accepted over at Postcard Shorts, link here - http://www.postcardshorts.com/read-903.html

It's only four lines, and it's basically about zombies, so you've got no reason not to clicky. Come on. I even made it obnoxiously yellow so you couldn't help but notice it. Clicky. You know you want to. Clicky. Just hover your mouse over the link and... almost... yes... clicky! Thank you.

I appreciate all your support and lovely words of encouragement. I will of course keep you all updated on future stories, whether short or long. I accept praise, constructive criticism, outright criticism with no sugar-coating, backhanded compliments, and pie.

A Tale Of Two Otter Blogs

Before I even begin this post properly, I'd like to note that the Cublet followed my previous blog post with a text asking if we could make a TV show called 'Pimp My Cane'. My friends are wonderful, if slightly unhinged, people, and I really do adore them all.

Now, onto some serious stuff! I have had my second story accepted onto Ether Books - the first, if you recall, was  'Hook and Line' which also sneaked onto an ebook by Raging Aardvark (which should in fact be published shortly on Smashwords as a free download, which I will shamelessly cajole/bribe/blackmail my friends/readers/random pedestrians into downloading) - and the new one is called 'Locks'. It's slightly more of a horror story, but in a more traditional way than 'Hook and Line' was. You can only get the Ether Books application on ipods and iphones at the moment, but there is some talk of branching out into Android at some point this year.

I'd be grateful for that move since I am attached (read: fused by the fingers) to my HTC, but I know some of my readers are rich enough to afford such exotic luxuries as iphones - mostly because I like to check the blog statistics to see what kind of operating system my readers are using, and how they found me (note to people who stumbled upon this blog by Googling phrases such as "penis tortoise" or "hot Irish women" - I apologise that I presumably did not provide the satisfaction you sought, and can only hope that you were at least faintly amused while you were here). So please do check out my stories here at http://www.etherbooks.com/EtherContent.aspx and you will receive many, many otterkisses if we ever meet.

I've also been contemplating something else; another blog. Woah, I hear you cry, in oddly harmonious unison. Woah there, little Otternator! You've got a day job and a day blog and you already don't sleep nearly as much as you should, which admittedly still isn't giving you the wrinkles you require to venture out into town ID-less, but we think Moar Life and possibly Moar Sun could help with that. Anyway. Is this wise? And to you, I'd say...well, probably not. But when have I ever chosen the wise option? I thought perhaps it could be another twitfic or perhaps even flash fiction site, but with the difference that I'd handpick the pieces myself. I already have an excellent name in mind - Does Your Mother Have Ninjas? - chosen from the excellent Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. What say you, readers?

An Otter Abroad

I had a lovely time in Portugal last week (so much so that I genuinely considered not returning home, before realising that much to my annoyance, I have various things that I can't just pick up and leave, including two rather heavy cats who possibly would not appreciate being forced into quarantine without an explanation). Many amusing situations occurred as I'm sure you can imagine, because normally I am a walking basket of disasters even in a country with a language I can speak fluently, but the below was one of my favourite exchanges to date. My Portuguese and I were out in an area called Bairro Alto, which is an awesome night spot in Lisbon.

Me: So, what do you recommend I drink?

Portugal: Caipirinha!

Portugal's Sister: No, you should have a shot.

Me: I like the sound of that. Look at all these drunk people! It feels like home.


Portugal's Sister: So, there is a shot called... I don't know how you translate this. Um. A kick in... the...  (she gestures at her crotch)

Me: Vagina?


Portugal: Yes, that! Except, it's worse than vagina. Is there a worse English word?

Me: (suppressing hysterical giggles) I can't think of one right now.


Portugal's Sister: (seriously) Are you sure?

Me: (straining my jaws to keep the laughter in) I ... simply can't imagine what that could be. I'll let you know if I find out. English is such a limited language. Ahem.

It was a great few days and I visited many interesting locations in Lisbon, got seriously hooked on the tiny coffees and pastel de nata (best cakes in the world, I promise you) and generally had an awesome time. Upon my return, I discovered that I'd been made Runner Up in the Flashbang fiction competition (which you may remember I mentioned in a previous post). Please find my story linked here and do comment if you feel that it deserves any praise or whatnot - http://flashbangcontest.wordpress.com/2012/05/15/runner-up-4/

In addition, one of my stories has been accepted into the Raging Aardvark's Twisted Tales ebook for National Flash Fiction Day on Wednesday 16th May! This is amazing in itself, but I also discovered that the lovely people over at Ether Books are going to publicise my story as a free download on both 16th and 17th May. When I know more I'll update with a link. It's been very busy over here in Otterland, but I'm enjoying every moment of it.

This Is Something FutureOtter Can Deal With

Good morrow, fair otterlings! I do apologise for my lack of recent bloggage. I have in fact been rather busy doing various productive activities (including Yo Momma, who works like a beast of burden and is a credit to Yo Family, furreals). I have started writing again, much to the delight of some and the horror of many, including, I am sure, my immediate family and friends who will be forced to read and give their opinions on my literary endeavours whether they like it or not. I don't know why they are so afraid to do so - it is not like I summon them to my lair and then swivel around in my chair to face them while stroking a menacing looking cat.

Back to the point. I have been writing short stories. I intended to submit some of these to magazines in the hope that someone somewhere would recognise my eccentric brilliance and give me lots of money (my own personal fishmongerer would also be nice, although if they could also monger cheese that would be even better. Note to readers: if you can monger more than one thing, please apply for this position. Sexually graphic applications will be put into a separate pile and considered later) so that I could take a couple of weeks off work to write, or attend a writer's residency somewhere nearby, or even just to go towards the eventual collection which I imagine I would self publish on Kindle for ease of distribution. It is, of course, entirely a coincidence that the residencies I have discovered on the internet all seem to be beside local vineyards.

In any case, I am considering creating a project on Indigogo and asking for donations. However, before I launch myself into what is potentially a stupid idea - and I am patting myself on the back for actually thinking something through for a change instead of charging in like a drunken badger in mating season - I wondered what my readers thought. Perhaps you have been with me since the very first post, or perhaps this is your first time at Wit and Pendulum (and if the latter, please indulge me and go look at some of the previous posts, especially http://witandpendulum.blogspot.com/2011/04/dressed-in-little-honey-jackets.html and http://witandpendulum.blogspot.com/2011/02/spiders-versus-murderers.html and especially http://witandpendulum.blogspot.com/2011/02/parents-parties-and-predicaments.html which will give you more of an idea of what the hell is happening here). The stories I write tend to run along the same lines - slightly dramatic, with a dash of comedy and a soupçon of morality. Essentially if you've enjoyed the blog, you will probably enjoy these too. So please, leave your comments and feedback below. Much like a date, I don't like to ask anything of you (at least not before I've had a chance to ply you with wine and tell you repeatedly that you don't look a day over fabulous) and frankly I find it embarrassing, but here goes.

I shall leave you with a reference to an old blog post regarding misquoted song titles, because apparently among the things you should not do at a somewhat sombre family gathering is point out how you always thought the line from Abba's song Super Trouper was "when I called you last night from Tesco", because it makes everyone in your immediate vicinity laugh so hard that their beverage of choice comes out of their nose. You have been warned.