blog – Ink And Spine

Starting something new is always difficult.

You’re setting yourself up for potential failure.

People might not realize you’re not as intelligent as you would like them to believe. Or maybe you will be forced to realize that you aren’t as smart as you think you are…

which would be the worst of the two because we all want to believe we’re pretty darn brilliant.

Embarking upon a new experience is easy when you’re young. With no frame of reference, you figure anything is possible.

Naivety disguised as hope.

When we get older and carry plenty of failures under our belt, we become more apprehensive. We’ve figured out what we’re good at and we stick to it. It’s safe. It doesn’t require any extra brainpower, and we’re pretty much guaranteed success. Oh, sure, we’ll learn something new,

just as long as no one is watching.

Case in point: years ago, I decided to take a watercolour class. I received the syllabus, bought the appropriate paper, brushes, paint, and palette and was in such a creative spirit I almost sprang for the artist’s smock as well. Then I went to the first class and discovered “beginning water colour” meant only those artists who possessed an extensive portfolio. Senior citizens and college art students who, I believe, only enrolled so they can look like the experts

while the rest of us stood around, mere troglodytes to their Monet

… or so I felt in all my artistic angst.

Predictably, I only attended one class. I said it was because “something came up” (for some reason, this “something” was every Wednesday at 7:00pm). It was really because I didn’t want to be “schooled” by a little grey-haired lady in pink polyester pants.

And now that I’m nearing my own polyester pant phase, I understand the need to only participate in something I know I can do, and do well, especially if I know it is going to be witnessed by others.

And

I have to say, I’ve been very disappointed in myself. Disappointment led to drudgery. Drudgery to anger.

I’m itching for change.

I want the blind faith of youth that I can do whatever it is I want to do

and not look the fool.

…. I’ve gone out and bought the pants.

by Johanna Van Veen

What a wonderfully gothic tragic love story! I may have found a new favourite author to add to my list. Johanna Van Veen is a master at creating atmosphere. Creepy, sad and at times ominous. Our protagonist, Roos, has had a tragic life. Roos has been made to participate in her abusive mother’s seances since she was a child and showed a connection to the spirit world. She would have likely continued this life if it hadn’t been for a beautiful young widow, Agnes, who participated in a seance one evening. Agnes and Roos quickly find a connection to each other because they share one extraordinary thing in common…they both possess spirit companions. Agnes invites Roos to come and live with her in the decrepit, haunting estate left to her by her husband. Shortly after her arrival, Roos realized there is more to the estate than first meets the eye. Her spirit companion can feel it too, and soon, strange noises and smells make Roos curious to find what or who else lurks in the hallways of her new home. What she finds is more than disturbing to both her and us, the reader.