That’s The Way The Cornbread Crumbles

One of the things about being married is that you are the automatic partner to any event that your spouse wants to go to. My husband found this out three years ago when he came to Belfast with me to Bjork. She is my favourite artist, but I know no one else in Ireland who liked her enough to accompany me.

So last Thursday it was time for me to pay the piper. I’ve spoken before about my husband’s love of country and bluegrass music, and how I shudder at the mere sight of a banjo or a harmonica. It’s the one area in which my husband and I are completely opposite. But Gillian Welch was coming to the Grand Canal Theatre in Dublin, and my husband hadn’t seen them perform for seven years.  I was kind of dreading it, but didn’t want to let on to him just how much I was dreading it. Nobody wants to go to an event with someone who has a face on them and isn’t even trying to enjoy themselves.

And actually, it wasn’t that bad. Yeah, I could have done without the harmonica. And I can’t say I’m going to load up all their songs to my iPhone. But Gillian Welch and David Rawlings are really talented musicians, and a couple of songs I really liked.

Sometimes it’s good to be pushed outside your comfort zone, even if it’s only to something like Appalachian/Bluegrass fusion. It’s a reminder to myself that I need to be more open, that even though something might not be my thing, it doesn’t mean that I can’t take something from it.  

And I even came up with a plot point at the concert! Score.

I'm on holiday!

People who don't read my blog often, may not be aware that I'm currently on holiday. I may have spent most of last week blogging about it, and boring you all senseless, but now I should finally be very close to the picture you see on your right. Yep, that's County Wexford.

I'm scheduling this blog post, because if I do so much as attempt to boot up my net book my husband may wrestle me to the ground (and not in the good way) and throw it over the cliff. And, you know, he may file for divorce on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour: i.e. not being able to take a holiday without writing.

Husband once wanted to buy an electric banjo.
Thankfully I persuaded  him otherwise.

 But, as it so happens, he may not be the only one pondering divorce. I was lucky enough to meet my soul mate at nineteen. He is a fabulous person, and we have a huge amount in common. However, when I daydreamed about finding the perfect man, I didn't imagine certain things that came as part of the package. I didn't see myself marrying someone who left cupboard doors open, and who likes to take random pieces of bric-a-brac out of his pockets at the end of the day and leave them on the kitchen table. And I certainly didn't see myself marrying someone who loved country music.

Yep. We have completely different musical tastes. I like musical scores, and pop, he likes a certain type of country music. While a proper holiday soundtrack for me would involve Rihanna, Beyonce, Michael Jackson and Fergie playing at full blast with me shrieking the lyrics tunelessly and flailing my limbs in wild, holiday-induced abandon, he will want to listen to depressing funeral dirge type music that bemoans the fate of humanity at length over the twang of a banjo. Our differing musical tastes only tend to come to a head on car journeys, when we're forced to share a stereo for a protracted amount of time. It will be interesting to see who prevails.

*I have no intention of divorcing my husband.*

*I'm sorry for any fans of depressing country music that may have been inadvertently offended by my post. On the bright side, at least y'all have more credibility than my pop-loving soul*

*Blog posts are scheduled, so I'll reply to any comments when I get back*

Friday Fives: Creative Inspiration

Every week, the lovely people over at Paper Hangover give a blog prompt to help those of us who, very occasionally, run out of ideas for posts. This week they want to know: What are the five things that get your creativity juices flowing? Because Paper Hangover is predominantly YA, I'll be listing things that help me write YA urban fantasy, rather than my other genre, women's contemporary fiction.

1. Music: When I get stuck in a scene, I find playing music can jog my brain. Maybe it's because music appeals on an emotional level? 

2. Rain: I find that I get inspired by the rain, and I find it easier to get write on cold, damp days. Good thing I live in Ireland then.

3: Reading history and mythology: I find that my YA fiction depends more on my university education than my adult fiction does. The political situation in Ravensborough is inspired by historical research, and my steampunk WIP is based in an alternative Victorian era, a period I've specialised in. So non-fiction comes into play.

4: Eavesdropping: It's amazing how many ideas you can pick up from listening to people talk in public. Not that I would lift an idea completely, but if gives you a starting point. Then you ask 'what if...' and a plot strand begins to take shape.

5: Life: This sounds like a bit of a cop out, but it really isn't. The more things you do, people you meet, and places you see, the more your imagination grows. Like any living thing, creativity needs fuel.

What about you guys? What inspires you?