My Boyfriend, The BBC

It probably started with my love of Shakespeare and Jane Austen. Something about reading and/or watching either one always made me feel smarter and more cultured. Years of Pride & Prejudice parties on Super Bowl Sunday (same snacks, just fancier) and you have the makings of a girl who was bound to fall in love with British television.

So today, I'm sharing my love of the BBC and my vast appreciation for Netflix. Without them, I'd probably have more of a social life! Anyway, here are a few of my favorites:

Doctor Who

Doo-wee-doo! There's something about a man who's seen so much horror and continues to value human life and fight for what's right. And the fact that he's quirky, brilliant, and hilarious? Well, that just makes him more appealing. Matt Smith incarnation of the Doctor with his affinity for bow ties, fezzes, Stetsons, and dressing like a substitute science teacher will always be my Doctor. I will forever be listening for the TARDIS and hoping he's the one nabbing me for an adventure. 

Sherlock

Admittedly the first time I saw Sherlock, I thought, There's sure a lot of nudity... (It was Scandal In Belgravia, which was my favorite until the antics of Drunk Sherlock.) I was quick to learn that nudity and profanity weren't a staple for the show, because Sherlock is all about the brains.

I blame my Sherlock obsession on a dad who read mysteries to his children and introduced us to Columbo and Poirot during our formative years. Who dunnits still draw me in. And really, do I have to say it? I'm a little bit in love with Mr. Cumberbatch. I just want him to read me bedtime stories I his sexy, low voice. Or, you know, recipe cards.

Downton Abbey

My love for period dramas and romance attracted me to Downton, though not initially. I watched the first episode and thought, I don't get it. What's all the fuss about? Weeks later on a lazy Sunday afternoon I thought I'd give it another try. I still haven't turned it off. The unique upstairs/downstairs interactions, the stunning fashions, and the ooey gooey romance keep me coming back. As my friend explained to someone who's apparently been living under a rock and knows nothing about it, Downton is a period soap opera. 

Too true. And we eat it up.

Call the Midwife

A friend brought Call the Midwife to my attention. She was intrigued by the ins and outs of midwifery portrayed in the show and she's absolutely addicted to the 40s. However, the videos of childbirth from my Human Development courses were as close as I wanted to come to live birth, at least from that angle. But, when I had a moment free from Doctor Who, Sherlock, and Downton (yes, I did fly through them all in a matter of months) I pulled up Call the Midwife and watched a couple of episodes. Here's what I love about it: the cadence, the heart, and the class. It's as beautifully choreographed as a dance. Give it a try. Maybe you'll love it. And maybe you'll learn to do your hair in victory rolls too.

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I'm pretty sure I could go on. I haven't even mentioned The Paradise, Merlin, or Robin Hood, which are fantastic examples of what I love about British TV. Classic literature, myths, and legends revamped with the perfect blending of drama, comedy, and humor. As a writer and/or couch potato I can get behind that. 

And hey, who doesn't love a good accent? Tom Hiddleston is also more than welcome to read me bedtime stories. Or the ingredients on the back of the cereal box.

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Anything else I should check out? Leave me a comment and tell me what you're obsessed with! As always, for reading! If you'd like to learn more about my geeky tendencies, revisit Fan Fiction & Fairytales or Geek Chic. 

Geek Chic

I've always been a geek.  In high school I felt at home with the drama/choir crowd, was scarily knowledgeable about musical theater, and burned through books like they were going out of style. Later, my wacky sense of humor, bizarre tastes, and growing lack of concern about what other people thought only made matters worse. It started with shows like Psych, Monk, Bones, and NCIS. Then, I discovered Glee, Harry Potter, and The Pirates of the Caribbean. I was just getting warmed up when I found the BBC and fell in love with Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, Merlin, Robin Hood, and Sherlock. By that time I was completely enamored with the entire Marvel Universe and fully addicted to Netflix. It was too late to hide my fanaticism. My bookshelves, DVD collection, and crazy tee-shirts plainly declared my mania.

When I stumbled into the online fandoms and acquired a new vocabulary (fangirling, shipping, canon, etc.) I felt like I'd found the mother ship. And it turns out I can rock geek chic.

So, when I saw this title at Barnes and Noble, it was only a matter of time before I devoured it.  In Fangirl, Cath is embarking on the new and frightening world of college.  For a twin, it's a weird sensation to be delving into new experiences all on her own, so she pours all of her stresses, social anxieties, and pent up frustrations into her fanfiction. As well-followed fanfic writer Magicath, Cath's love for spinning new scenarios for her favorite characters and the magical world they inhabit opens the door for new friendships, life experiences, and, if she's lucky, romance.

Though this story may seem sweet and silly, Rainbow Rowell ties in plenty of reality to ground the tale. I enjoyed following Cath's journey from damaged girlhood to finding herself and learning what she is capable of.  A truly fun story, but word to the wise, Fangirl is a more mature read, featuring both adult themes and language.

However, for the clean read crew, let me introduce Geek Girl:

Jen Jones is a high school student who's been bounced from one foster home to another. Still suffering from the tragedies of her childhood, Jen has her eye on nothing more than the next party and the next high. Until Trevor catches her attention. A geek to the core, Trevor is the most attractive of his sci-fi obsessed posse. Jen bets her friends that she can turn him into a bad boy and is certain she'll succeed. But while coming to know him, like geek makeover flicks10 Things I Hate About You, She's All That, and Drive Me Crazy, she is more altered by the experience than he is.  Facing her past seems like the hardest thing Jen will ever have do until Trevor discovers her secret and she faces losing the geeky boy she's fallen in love with.

I thoroughly enjoyed this tale of self-discovery.  Like Jen, I am certainly a Geek Girl at heart. Enjoy, my friends!  Both of these books are full of wonderfully written characters, fun adventures, and geeky goodness.  Find them at Amazon:
Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell
Geek Girl by Cindy C. Bennett

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For more of my fangirl mania, check out Fanfiction & Fairtales, Embracing the Fangirl Within, The Con, and Embrace the Geek by fellow Geek Girl Raylynn. Thanks for stopping by!

The Con

We shall call it research!

I've always been a fangirl. Even when I didn't know what a fangirl was. After establishing an online presence this year, I settled happily into my place among the Whovians, Sherlockians, and whatever you call the people addicted to Downton Abbey. Like Dorothy with her ruby slippers, I realized there's no place like home.

With panels featuring amazing actors and a convention full of colorful characters, it's the perfect setting for a kindergarten teacher to unwind and a writer to gather new ideas. (But yes, a character based on John Barrowman would be larger than life.)

Some words of wisdom from my first Con:

Do good things just to make the world a better place. (Stephen Amell)

Smile when you feel down and choose a happy life. (John Barrowman)

If you haven't found the part that's made for you, keep looking. (Stephen Amell)

People don't love you? Why should you care? (John Barrowman)

The overall message of the Con is clear:

Whatever your passion, let your geek flag proudly and loudly! 

And just to prove I take my own advice...

And yes, I can use the Con experience, the wisdom of talented artists, and my own fangirl passions to inspire future projects. Don't be surprised if a future character is a hunky bow and arrow toting hero. 

Yes, that is Stephen Amell. And yes, appreciating his smoking hot abs does count as research.

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For more on my fangirl tendencies and/or using what you love to fuel your writing, try out Fan Fiction & Fairytales or Embracing the Fangirl Within.  I think you'll enjoy them!

Arguing With Myself

Working with quirky characters can be a challenge.  You never know who's going to bully you into writing an extra scene, or sending the storyline in an entirely different direction to accommodate their antics. Imagine trying to do this with a dozen sisters, a pair of smitten gardeners, various self-important noblemen, and a bevy of opinionated servants, and you'll get a picture of the conundrum I face every time I sit down to tap out a new scene.

I think I've finally gotten my willful characters under control.  The girls--all twelve of them--have been informed that they will each get their moment to shine, if they will kindly refrain from talking at the same time. They've agreed to these terms.  However, they insist on being introduced, at least as a group.  Jonas, the elder of the aforementioned deep-in-smit gardeners, will do the honors.

Imagine a scene along the lines of the following...without the entire cast of Downton arranged around Highclere Castle, of course.

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               Scratching at the day’s growth of beard I hadn’t had time to shave, I attacked a particularly determined root with the shovel.  It was a puny thing, no thicker than a twig, but twisted into the soil as it was, it cost me a good five minutes.  Pausing to swab the sweat from my brow, I leaned on the handle of the spade and glanced around at the other men hard at work.  The grounds, a grand expanse of trimmed lawn interspersed with flowering beds, artfully shaped shrubbery, and a curving cobbled path, stretched from the big house all the way to the edge of the forest.  Most of the men were bent over their tasks, industrious as always.  The only exception was the fellow nearby with the wide-eyed expression of a trout.  Muttering incoherently, he was engaged in uselessly stabbed the ground with a hoe.  I rolled my eyes.   I’d lost track of the number of times I’d lectured him on the proper use of gardening tools.  With Lumis, once was never enough, or in this case, a score of times wasn’t enough.  I asked myself, not for the first time, why it must be my responsibility to look after him. 

                A strange hush fell over the men, even Lumis’ mumbled curses ceased as he glanced toward the house.  Guessing what it was before I looked up, my breath caught in my throat the way it always did.  My chest felt tight when I lifted my gaze. 

                In all the colors of the rainbow, they poured out of the main building, as graceful as butterflies drifting over the manicured lawns and blossoming beds.  The flowers, even in full bloom, paled beside their beauty. With delicate fingers they lifted their skirts and skimmed over the grounds, their tinkling voices and gentle laughter as musical as their footsteps were light.  Every one of the twelve—from the youngest, in her early teens, to the eldest, in her late twenties—kept her eyes averted from the workers.  They were adept at this, as we too should have been.  After all, it was the cardinal rule of the household, the one that even the lowliest stable boy knew by heart: Thou shalt not meddle with the Master’s daughters.  On pain of death.  

                 Or was it dismemberment?  Either way, it was serious. 

                Yet, like the other men, I could never resist looking up, just in case I caught her eye.  Amidst so many beautiful women, she should have been difficult to pick out, but I always located her in the first second. I heard her, even as I saw her, arm in arm with her favorite sister, their heads together as if confiding the deepest of secrets. Her voice was low and amber-hued, rich and captivating.

                The handle of a rake smashed into my ribs and I bit back a cry, treating the individual beside me to a venomous look.  Gregor, holding the rake in question and not looking at all remorseful, hissed out, “Do you have a death wish, Jonas?  Close your mouth and get back to work!” 

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(Excerpt from Twelve, by Sarah E. Boucher, all rights reserved.)