The Voodoo Valentine's Review: How To Meet A Guy At The Supermarket by Jessica L. Degarmo

...Now see how a real author puts it better... Jessica L. Degarmo on Amazon

...The conclusion being that I've just been looking in the wrong places for romance all of my life, so whatever I do next obviously can't involve nightclubs, or loitering in cemeteries. I can't believe all that time spent as a teenager was wasted. Except of course for the zombie muses, but with a name like Voodoo Spice I don't think that comes as a big surprise.

Anyway, on the HarperCollins writer's forum website, authonomy.com, is a lot of talent. And some of them can write as well! And most of them, I can't even picture having spent any time at all sitting in trees, sneaking around in burnt-out derelict buildings, or reading gravestones when they were youngsters. It is a real eye-opener.

One of my favourite authors on the site so far, whose writing skills go far beyond the range of my immediate knowledge (trust me, after understanding the concept of a Valentine card, I have no experience what the rest of the stuff on sale this time of year is used for) is Jessica L. Degarmo. Now published by Night Publishing, I bought her first novel "How To Meet A Guy At The Supermarket" soon as it was available on Amazon.co.uk, and a hilarious migrating decimal-point pricing error had been addressed. I mean, wow. Like she said herself "I can't wait to see what the royalty on that is!"

So the book arrived, featuring a lovable character called Quinn, whose dilemmas meeting men are only matched by the challenges of keeping her writing column entertaining, and once she hits upon a way to combine the requirements of both, puts on her best produce aisle-strutting shoes and heads out to practise squeezing grapefruit with intent.

But real men out doing their weekly food shop aren't there to be plucked from the shelves like a special offer. Quickly sussed out by the staff, and confusing the occasional entirely well-meaning elderly gentleman or First Aider presented by her antics, she wonders how she's ever meant to find a relationship - or write a popular themed column - when she's closer to being barred from the store and restraining orders than to any dates.

But dates she does find, from a handsome beach babe to a Mr. Average with the passion of a cornflake, to finding love in the form of replacing her imaginary lost dog with a real one. And all along, you kind of know she's going to fall on her feet by the end...

Jessica's style of writing is perfect for romantic comedy, how she pushes her female protagonist to the cringe-worthy limits of a singleton's comfort zone, but brings her in line with humour and her character's own sense of the absurd in her situation.

I said to Jessica, having read this in one sitting, that I felt like I was watching a Jennifer Aniston movie. The story is so accessible and the humour so warm, and the character so identifiable, that I'm sure in the right hands it could go a long way indeed.

If you're single this Valentine's, (and zombie tales don't do it for you, although I can't think why not!) Jessica's laugh-out-loud book can be found on Amazon now in paperback and Kindle. Enjoy :)

L xxxxxxxx

The Voodoo Preview: The Terrible Zombie Of Oz

Out now in the Amazon Kindle Store

...Also out now in paperback (Click HERE for online store)

L xxxxxxx

The Voodoo Review: ...A Short Story Interval

...Read more Voodoo Spice fiction HERE...

Tawdry Audrey

Audrey Hepworth straightened her Little Black Dress and rang the doorbell. The excitement was mounting inside her, curling and coiling like a snake in a basket. All it needed was the right tune and it would emerge, taking all her inhibitions with it…

Her first real job. She patted her French-pleated hair and adjusted her pose, wondering if her sunglasses should sit on her head or remain in her hand, dwarfing her tiny clutch-purse. A sudden flutter of paranoia made her look down at her white heeled pumps, looking for imperfections, and as she did so, the studded oak door swung inwards.

Oh, God. There he was. Answering his own door. She had expected a maid, if not a butler. Failing either of the above, a PA.

"Audrey, my dear," the Bohemian movie director greeted her, as if an acquaintance, not a stranger. "Come in. Welcome to my humble palace. A little drink, to begin with? I hear this is your first?"

She nodded and her ‘thank you’ came out as a husky whisper, followed by a blush of humiliation at her lack of confident tone. She stepped into the atrium, noting twin marble staircases either side of the ostentatious entrance hall, and a huge dome of skylight overhead.

"I rarely have company," he confided. "I think I shall enjoy this afternoon."

She followed him to the first living room. Marble hallway floors leading onto deep shag pile carpet, as silent as a panther to walk on after the echoing solid tiles. Vast sofa beds in a Moroccan style, strewn with silk and tasseled cushions in jewel colours. She had heard he was decadent, and his early films hinted at a personality steeped in debauchery. She could almost see the aftershow parties, smell the hookah pipes and hear the hypnotic Eastern music. In the night-time, with those sconce lights down low and candelabras lit… she startled herself with a visible shiver at the thought of what must already have passed here, into the pages of Hollywood history.

"Watch him," Marguerite at the office had warned. "They’re all the same. Play the sweet little elderly man role until you go upstairs, and suddenly it’s closets full of black latex gimp-wear and shackles on the four-poster beds. Those supermodel wives never live there full time. They’ve always got a secret apartment in the City where they can be normal and not have to look at the trophy husband’s collection of pornographic Greek urns and dildo statues…"

"I have already agreed a fee with your employer," he began, interrupting her thoughts from where he stood at the groaning drinks cabinet, rendered immovable on the property by the weight of crystal glasses, decanters and bottles. "I was wondering if there was room to negotiate for one or two extras?"

"Hmmm?" Audrey croaked, accepting a large glass of what she was sure was neat gin, but was too embarrassed to point this out as his hand tinkled in what she was sure was genuine frailty as he replaced the bottle’s crystal stopper. "What did you, er, have in mind?"

"Rather than just exploit my surroundings," he smiled, rather conspiratorially. "I was hoping to have my love of art indulged also."

"I heard you frequently paint yourself," Audrey agreed, bravely taking a sip, feeling her throat constrict in protest at the undiluted spirit, and wondering if that phrase could have come out better.

"A hobby. I painted nudes. Many girls willingly posed for me. Not all of them as lovely as you," he said, indulging her with another smile. "I would like to show you my private gallery of collected works. Some of them deserve special interpretation."

He led the way to a door hidden behind a voile and velvet curtain, and unlocked it with a keypad.

"Not even my wife knows about this room," he said. "At least, I hope she doesn’t…"

Audrey followed him into the gallery. Marguerite did have a point.

"I often wonder how these were posed for," he mused. "And if they were intended as instruction manuals. How do you think these would be reproduced, in practise?"

Audrey took a gulp of her gin, and gestured broadly at the room. At nothing specific, she hoped.

"Well, I can tell you," she began. Pausing for effect, she could swear she heard a goat bleat in the background, and the cluck of a hen who knew that its future was uncertain. She tried to stop a completely inappropriate squeal of laughter emerging. "The animals were usually dead. That’s how they stayed still for sketching and painting. Very few artists of this era painted anything living from the animal kingdom."

"Is that true?" His disappointment was louder even than the very definite sound of goat in the background now.

Audrey swigged again to try and cork her laughter.

"And the models - it was sort of a game for them. Who could get the most bizarre job, or appear in the freakiest painting. Like Jackass and Youtube."

"A kind of artist’s life model X-Factor?" The Bohemian’s face sagged another three centimetres.

"My Masters was in Art History." At least this was true. Her stories of sordid life model tales were what had wowed the interview panel at the magazine, after all. What with all the applicants for the post wanting to stalk celebrities, case up their homes, or marry a footballer, Audrey’s application stood out, they told her afterwards, as Someone Who Could Tell A Great Story - not a nobody who was trying to become one.

Audrey stepped back into the living room, with the director following with a sigh. She decided to turn up the charm, raise his mood a little.

"I’ll mention you’re an avid collector." She opened her purse, taking out a personal recorder before commencing the interview. "The photographer would certainly find them interesting. What do you think of Vallejo and Giger? Now there are some stories of fantasy poses that would boggle your mind…"

L xxxxxxx

 

The Voodoo Review: Mark Watson (Live At The Apollo)

http://markwatsonthecomedian.com/



Friday 10th December, 2010 - I and my imaginary friend, a.k.a author Lisa Scullard, go to see Mark Watson perform stand-up comedy at the HMV Apollo, Hammersmith, London. I say imaginary friend, because we had two seats to ourself :) A small fleet of us, The Stood-Up Brigade, were comparing the seating positions of our spare tickets just prior to thinking collectively "Sod it" and running inside so as not to miss the start. Even so, once I got upstairs and found my seats, for a moment I was nearly bumped from them by a man who imagined temporarily that he had more than his quota of real life friends with him and was under the impression he had bought the whole row. Bless him. But the end two had Voodoo written all over them. If he'd known that, he probably wouldn't even have wanted to sit his own imaginary friends there either.

Comedian Mark, who describes himself as "a little bit Welsh, a little bit West country" has more chatter than a sackload of monkeys. And he's engaging as well as funny - if you've seen his appearances on Mock The Week, or his current TV show Mark Watson Kicks Off, you've seen a snippet of his humour - seeing him live really does him justice. He's a generous performer as well as intelligent, there's no sense of him holding anything back, and his enjoyment of performing infects the audience. A very, very likeable personality. A youngster's active mind meets philosopher of age in a grown-up world which at times seems to be like Babel to live in.

If you want to know what that means, go see him :)

"Eleven" by Mark Watson (to buy on Amazon.co.uk)

Right at the end Mark mentioned his novel "Eleven" (published by Simon&Schuster) was for sale downstairs and he'd be signing copies in the lobby for anyone who wanted to come and say hello. So I went down to grab a copy and started reading it in the queue for autographs. It's great to see more fiction by comedians - a Voodoo Review will follow later at some point...

Not only did Mark sign my copy of "Eleven", he also signed my travel-sized copy of Glamour, right across the lovely Kylie Minogue, with great pleasure. Now that's a magazine that's staying on my coffee table...

Mark's a fast mover as well as talker... :)



...I feel sorry for my real life friend who didn't make it to the show - you missed a good one, dude!

(Mark Watson is on tour now - click here for dates)

L xxxxxxxx

The Voodoo Review: Tieken

www.myspace.com/tiekenband

Halloween calls for metal music and teen scream movies, and if anyone’s writing the theme tune for this year on MySpace, it’s twin brothers Trevin and Trent10 fronting their own self-named band Tieken.

Site members since 2006, they’ve got a great image and exactly the sound you need to rock that Halloween party or prom, metal-style.

There’s a generous dose of tracks on MySpace, and you can find them also on Facebook as TIEKENBAND.

So this year, dress to thrill, load them up in your iTunes or MP3 and crank it loud…

TIEKEN, Ursa, U.S.A.
Metal/Nu Metal/Hard Rock
Recording and live shows - look for on iTunes and Amazon

MYSPACE TRACKLIST:

Munster Movie (Hallowed Be Thy Re-Mash) Remix
A real retro funk metal hit - think Halloween prom night with a serial killer on the loose and some proper satire to liven things up! Love the samples - reminds me of the good old days of Gothic sit-coms like The Addams Family and The Munsters.

More please…

Hate And Blame
More effective use of sampling in the mix - carries off really well in the intro leading into the demonstration of axe talent in this band.

Nightmares Can Come True
Another prom night of ghosts and zombies - would make a great teen slasher movie theme tune.

Kings, Queens And Fools
A slower pace and a surprising show of vocal skill carries this off - not everyone can jump three or four octaves mid-lyric. A good pace for a rhythmic head-mosh throughout in the pit.

Dig In
Great guitar intro. Picks up the pace again as those imaginary prom-night miscreants look for a good place to hide a body…

Highway Baby (Get It On)
Metal and road-trip themes have been partners in crime since… and if they haven’t, why not? Really nice vocal chorus hook that sticks in the memory.

I Don’t Wanna
Must be awesome to see these guys live - they’ve got their intro’s spot on, getting you in the mood from the get-go, with catchy lyrical hooks you can already hear the audience screaming along with. More guitar riff skill that surprises you with a new technical sound just when you least expect it.

Shows imagination and talent by the truckload.

Happy Halloween, fellas…

L xxxxxxx

The Voodoo Review: BOB MARLEY Live at Crystal Palace, circa 1980 :)

Photo by David Corio

http://web.bobmarley.com/index.jsp

“Look, he’s sitting down - I think he’s in pain.”

That’s the quote I recall my mum, or maybe my aunt saying, as aged around eight, starving and thirsty, with my cousins, brothers and aunts and uncles, I sat in Crystal Palace Park on the hillside facing the live stage, and I recognised a track which had played at home often - “I Shot The Sheriff”.

It was a hot sunny day, I was boiling, and finally my mum got some frozen watermelon in a cellophane bag for us all to share and it was the best thing I’d had all afternoon. People were chilled out on picnic blankets all around us. Nobody seemed to have any money on them, and neither did they care.

At one point, my brother and cousins and I left to walk back to my aunt’s flat (with the really cool naked lady surfing mural, sadly now redecorated over) to get a drink, and came back, the only concern by the men manning the gate was that we were potentially about to make off with their Irn Bru and Cherryade. Otherwise we were free to wander.

If only we’d known at the time it was one of the world’s greatest reggae icons, and possibly the last time he’d appear in concert here… maybe I’d have paid more attention to what the grown-ups were saying instead of listening to my stomach grumble and feeling my throat dry out.

From what I’ve learned since though, there were additional factors in the air potentially contributing to my discomfort. But I was glad to recognise the song, even though I was too young to understand anything about fame or the man himself…

L xxxxxx
　

Photo by Tankfield

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Marley





The Voodoo Review: Noisettes (Live in London, May 2009)

www.myspace.com/noisettesuk

For anyone who’s missed them, here are some damn fine worthy groovers…

At the end of May 2009, with some cash burning a hole in my pocket, I got off the London Underground at Tottenham Court Road and left at the wrong exit trying to get onto Oxford Street. Instead I was confronted with a street full of mobile phone outlets, and most unusually, some friendly people with placards and flyers announcing “Live in five minutes in Phones4U! See The Noisettes free in Phones4U in five minutes!”

Still not sure I wasn’t on Oxford Street, I looked half-heartedly as far as the metro supermarket outlet, but failing to find anything remotely like a shoe-shop, I turned back and decided to go into Phones4U and see what the fuss was about. As one of the first few there, I found a space at the front, and shortly quite a crowd gathered.

Ten minutes later a petite lady in a plaid jacket, with classic 1940’s glam pin-up hair slipped in through a side door. In the meantime, the rest of the band gathered and tuned up on the stage. It wasn’t long before the lady herself joined them, minus the jacket and slipping off her shoes, pausing only to investigate an abandoned phone-shop manager’s coffee cup and to pick up a reception phone humorously and pretend to answer it…

…And boy, can the lady play and sing live. With renditions of “Don’t Upset The Rhythm” and other tracks from their debut album which was just out, she belts out a voice and energy very impressive for her tiny frame. For a spontaneous free gig in a phone store, it’s one of the more memorable.

Prompted possibly by her bare feet, I went on to buy three pairs of shoes in Oxford Street, and by the great performance, I bought the CD at my local Tesco’s when I got back home the same day.

Awesome stuff. Just what you need to brighten up a wet day in London…



Currently on MySpace, you can watch videos (now synchronised with Youtube), keep up to date with blogs, and on the NoisettesUK MySpace page you can listen to teaser 1-minute samples of “Every Now And Then”, “Saturday Night” (which featured in the soundtrack to St. Trinians II: The Legend of Fritton‘s Gold), “Don’t Upset The Rhythm” and others - but I’d recommend you treat yourself to the album “Wild Young Hearts“… plus more complete tracks including the rocking “Scratch Your Name” and “Don’t Give Up”.

Noisettes, London, U.K.
Pop/Rock/Indie
Band members: Shingai Shoniwa, Dan Smith

...Shame I didn't have time to buy a new camera-phone while I was there...



Appearing at the Xmas Extravaganza, Electric Ballroom, London, U.K. December 14, 2010 (see NoisettesUK on MySpace for details).

*RECOMMENDED!*

L xxxxxx