Maeve Binchy

Maeve Binchy. 

One of my favorite writers has passed away.

Maeve Binchy made everyday life more fascinating than

Vampires, werewolves and zombies

Interstellar travel

Regency dukes

Lost civilizations

Ménages à trois

Secret societies

Aliens

Cannibalistic but intellectual mass murderers

Wizards, warriors and witches

Elves, dwarves and dragons.

That’s a lot for one writer to do

In a single lifetime.

Real is better.

Thanks.

By S.J. Driscoll

Magic how new habits take hold

1) My eyes now start to close as 10 p.m. approaches. Stayed awake in bed until 11:30 last night, though, playing with the new electronic toy. Made me remember reading LITTLE WOMEN by moonlight when I was little, while the rest of my family slept. Gorgeous weather and I’m not getting out as much as I’d like, but my office windows open onto our huge live oak so it almost counts as being outside. Still keeping up the garden and doing a few minutes on the elliptical, just not yesterday. Seems like I can do every other day. [Real goal: Health: sleep (lights out at 10:30 p.m.), move (get up from desk every hour, spend at least 20 minutes outside morning or evening, gardening, walking or looking at forest).

2) Worked about 24 hours in the last two days to make the monthly issue deadline while fitting in other work odds and ends. Surprisingly, that left little to do toward it this morning, though I thought I’d be jammed. Happy! Now to get a head start on the Continue reading

Manchester and the Loneliness of the Long Distance Writer

Guest Post by Barry Crowther

My dad says if you can’t be smart or you can’t be funny then be brief. With that in mind I’m going to be brief, I know your time is important.

While on vacation recently I got to thinking ‘How did I get Here?’ I was on the beach in Santa Barbara. I’m pretty sure at various checkpoints in our lives we all do this.

Even if you’re laying on the couch eating WotSits riding out a massive hangover and wondering what made you get an Aston Villa tattoo.

Doesn’t matter. We all still check in from time to time.

My wife was reading a magazine and starts to tell me that if someone relocates more than five hundred and fifty miles from their hometown then the friends and family they leave behind experience the same trauma as abandonment, on some emotional level at least.

She pulls out the iPhone and presses some app.

“The distance between Los Angeles and Manchester England is five thousand three hundred and three miles.”

“That’s a long long way past the abandonment line.” I tell her.

And I was right. When I think about all we’ve left behind it saddens me. And though my lifestyle is amazing I still crave all things Manchester.

Manchester United are my team. And Manchester City are doing well (finally). I still have lots of friends and family who are City supporters. And Man U and Man C are two financially sound clubs, both are on the up and up. So while I was back in Manchester last Christmas I got a chance to experience a great match at FC United. Never been before but this was a team that’s trying to get up there. And it felt like Home, so very – Mancunian.

That’s why I decided to donate a portion of my book sales to the FC United Development fund and put this team up there with the others. I do this because I want ALL the teams from the North to do well. They might have to wait a while as I’ve only sent them a tenner so far (only kidding).

My hometown is my first love. Please don’t tell the wife … and while you’re at it don’t tell the dog either!
It could be that being so far away for such a long time that it’s the “idea” of Manchester I’ve come to love. I’m sure this is the same kind of emotional trauma my wife mentioned and takes place for anyone who leaves their hometown and doesn’t look back … for a while at least.

Maybe it’s just nostalgia? Baz Luhrmann in the video Suncreen said “Nostalgia is a way of fishing the past from the waste disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.”

The nostalgia I feel is different, it seems to keep Manchester in some kind of time capsule. As my kids are growing older and I hear the music they listen to I hear echoes of my dad within myself. He would be telling me that The Housemartins and The Smiths were ‘bloody crap’ while trying to force a 78rpm Frankie Laine album onto the spindle. All this is very familiar as I’m doing the same with Rhianna and Jay Z (not the Frankie Laine bit of course).
Or maybe it’s the things I enjoy…

Crap jokes, Warburtons Toastie Loaf, A pint of Boddingtons, Chips and gravy, Oasis, Town on a Saturday night, Rotters (maybe not), Regular Heinz baked beans, Greggs sausage rolls, Coronation Street, Peter Kay, Buses, Taxis (slight waft of spew), Local pubs, Take That (maybe not), Tiger Tiger, MEN Arena, The Lowry Hotel….

The list could go on.

Most of all I miss the people and the Northern attitude.

Just to think I gave all that up to live near the beach?! So How did I get here? I’m not entirely sure, I know it took more balls than brains, maybe that’s another Northern thing.

One thing I am sure about though is that even from this distance Home still looks pretty sexy to me.

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For more Manchester mayhem with murder, gangsters and an array of crazy characters you might like Missing*. UK Readers Here | US Readers Here

If you fancy some Southern Californian fayre then try Nothing. UK Readers Here | US Readers Here

* A portion of all books sales goes to the FC United Development Fund.

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This post originally appeared here on July 8, 2011.

Thank you, Barry!