That Thing When Your Fictional World Bleeds Into Real Life. Sorta.

ironing

It’s not much of a secret that I excel at housework, or that I like housework as much as I like writing books about smartasses. But I admit, and I have admitted before, that I have a rather complicated relationship with one chore: ironing.

A few days after I met the man I would later marry, I shot myself in the foot by offering to iron his shirt. It’s been 22 years and I’m still ironing his shirt.

I used to love ironing. Honest.

I. Loved. Ironing.

Truly. I loved the process. I loved the mind-clearing, methodical pattern of pressing the collar, the sleeves, the yoke. I loved how I’d start with the chaos of crinkles and wind up with crisp fabric. Oh! It was bliss to iron!

Really. I swear to the deity of your choice. I loved ironing.

Before my husband and I married we actually discussed the division of labour, meaning we discussed what chores we would and would NOT do. For some reason, twenty some years ago, I picked ironing over mowing the yard because I loved to iron. What’s happened over time is that I began to dislike ironing the same bloody 10 shirts (my beloved has a squillion other shirts, yet chooses the same 10 all the time). However, I did not want to trade or switch to mowing the yard–or weeding or anything that would make me get dirty and sweaty because I am a complete and utter wuss. So when I ironed I tried to recapture what I loved about it.  Then I just would try to make it, let’s say, FUN.

Yeah. I know ironing = fun.  BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Anyhow, I’d set up the ironing board in front of the TV, pop in a DVD, and get down to pressing my beloved’s business shirts. I’d try to find solace in that DVD, try to forget that I was ironing the same shirt I’d ironed a week ago. I endeavoured to lose myself in Casino Royale, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, The Bourne Identity, Three Days of the Condor, in anything that would engross me enough that I’d forget I was ironing.

What happened instead is that I wound up with a comedic romantic suspense novel featuring a smartass heroine who was all about the mind-clearing methodical order out of chaos through ironing.

Then I took that character, Mae Valentine, and put her in an apron because I wear an apron whapronen I’m doing housework– I also wear pyjamas when I clean and iron, but an apron works better on a professional butler than a pair of flannel pyjamas. It took me a little while of writing Mae before I realised she and I shared certain proclivities–like wearing an apron and keeping things tidy. I was cool with that. I understand that characters are sometimes imbued with elements that come directly from the writer’s psyche. I’m totally cool with that. It happened on an unconscious level while I was trying to make ironing fun.

I know! Ironing = fun! BWHAHAHAHAHA!

Anyhow, when a writer friend of yours, whom you admire, tells you that they enjoyed beta reading your romantic suspense book about Mae Valentine, but they pictured YOU as Mae Valentine.. and then they tell you that they got all OH DEAR GOD when they got to the sex scene because they’d pictured IRONING-APRON-WEARING YOU as the character doing it with the hero you wrote, a cross between Toby Stephens, Daniel Craig and Clive Owen.

Oh, ironing for me will never be the same again. Now when I iron I’ll blush, and think about how Rebekah Turner pictured me naked and bonking a cross between Toby/Daniel/Clive.

Or I’ll simply put on an apron and a DVD and try to come up with another way to try to make ironing fun.

I know! Ironing = fun.  BWAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

Photo credits: Ravages via Foter.com /CC BY-NC-SA

‘Playingwithbrushes’ viaFoter.com / CC BY

 

 

 

Thirty-one Days of Halloweenie Day 25: Bek Turner Talks Pyschos and Ironing

SandrabooksI like smartass. I write smartass. I write smartass novels like Driving in Neutral, For Your Eyes Only and A Basic Renovation. I write smart-mouthed, smartassed heroines like Olivia, Willa, and Lesley.OldAd-wowe-e

I like Halloween

I like smartasses and I like Bek Turner because she’s a smartass who likes Halloween and hates ironing.

Halloween was never on my radar. Only in the recent years, with all the spruiking from the shops (Buy this mask! Buy this costume! Buy these lollies!) , has it really bek-profile_2come to my attention. Not that I haven’t been very aware of the holiday. In fact, it’s often the theme of the movies I turn to when my well of inspiration has run dry. That, or when I have to do the ironing.

I love to write dark fantasy stories, and revisiting old horror classics provide great inspiration. Naturally, some of the best movies arChweene based around Halloween and of course, one of my favourites is the John Carpenter classic Halloween.
Grrr! Ironing!

Who doesn’t love a psycho in a mask movie? Though I stress I’m talking about the classic versions. I’m not that keen on the modern, gritty versions of the horror genre, where it seems like everyone ends up dying gruesomely. Not nice! Not nice! And if you’re looking for some recommendations of great spooky movies to watch this Halloween:

Trick R Treat: Four interwoven tales about one spooky Halloween night! Very Trtentertaining.Petsem

Pet Sematary: Stephen King! Zombie cats!(and zombie kids, Bek. Zombie kids saying “I played with Mommy, now I want to play with youuuu”. –Sandra)

The Exorcist: Terrifyingly brilliant! Watch through your exorfingers!

 

But rest assured, my books, Chaos Born and Chaos Bound, keep to horror killer rules. More or less. My heroine isn’t exactly a blushing virgin, but a cranky bitch with a heart of gold who fights the hordes of evil. If she can’t drink them under the table first.

chaos-born_cvrYou can find a copy of Chaos Born here

And Chaos Bound herebound

Rebekah lives in sunny Queensland, Australia. An avid writer since she could scrawl on her bedroom walls, she has progressed from rainbow unicorn tales to stories of dark fantasy with lashings of romance and a sprinkling of horror.

Her vices include in-depth critiques of B grade action and horror movies and buying stationery she doesn’t need.