Would you look at that! Not only does Miriam manage to regenerate the blog’s theme, earn us five more followers – hello lovely people! – but she also manages to do it with a magnificent pun in the title!
Well then. I suppose I’d better follow her illustrious example and reintroduce myself, for the benefit of you awesome people who might have forgotten exactly who this strange human is that’s been gabbling at you through the interwebs for the past two weeks.
So… who the blazes are you?
I’m Charley Robson; student, geek, sausage enthusiast, and author.
I’m the middle installment of the St Mallory’s arrangement, and currently halfway through my first year as an undergraduate of BA English at Exeter University. I’d make a joke about selling my soul to the government to pay off my student fees… but I’m pretty sure I never had one. A soul, that is. More on that later.
What are you doing here?
As the content of my previous posts has likely made obvious, I’m the member of this triumvirate who actually attended a boarding school. Like St Mallory’s, it was a small, single-sex establishment lurking in the idyllic English countryside, and absolutely chock-full of all the charmingly bizarre things you expect of such a place.
Little known fact: my history in education is more akin to Xuan’s than anyone else’s. The boarding school where I concluded my education was the last in a long succession of educational establishments – at least nine, at the last count – attended by myself as I tumbled in and out of cardboard boxes, following my father’s peripatetic job with the Forces.
Wait … go back to the bit about the soul? That’s to do with writing, isn’t it?
Oddly enough, it is. Though I can’t claim quite the same level of productivity as Miriam when it comes to my own work, what books I have managed to write, despite their wild variations in genre, theme and quality, have all been in unified in revealing that I have a marvellous predilection for cold-hearted murder. And wanton destruction. Sometimes at the same time.
I read pretty voraciously, both prose and poetry, and so my taste in authors is extremely varied; from J.R.R. Tolkien to Terry Pratchett, and Lord Byron and the Romantics to Shakespeare and back again, with a detour via Cicero and Scott Lynch if you fancy stopping for a coffee. I’m a great believer in reading, at least partially, as a form of escaping the dull and difficult fish bowl of reality for somewhere much more exciting and/or deadly. Preferably both.
As a result, I would call the majority of my non-St-Mallory’s projects ‘fantasy’, some of a more traditional sort than others. Mostly, though, I aim for interesting characters, engrossingly complex plots, shameless escapism, and making Miriam cry. Don’t feel sorry for her. She does exactly the same thing to me.
Okay … so what else do you do, when not writing?
Unlike Miriam, I have the musical talent of a particularly dim pigeon – but that didn’t stop me taking to the stage, playing nought but villainous nasties and nasty villains since about the age of nine.
I did, admittedly, take singing lessons for a year, but despite having a top range that makes Alvin and the Chipmunks sound like deep-throated baritones, I’ve got nothing on Freddie Mercury.
Beyond that, I’m usually found indulging my not-so-inner voracious geek. You know you’re a proper geek when you’re on the committee for the Tolkien society, helping to arrange a trip to Rivendell (or the real-life inspiration for it, anyway). I’m also a fan of Doctor Who, Game of Thrones (yes, I’ve read the books. Yes, it gets worse.), Merlin, or just about anything that will present me with some nice historical weapons to drool over.
I have a thing for catapults. Don’t judge me.
That’s all from me this week! I’ll be back again in the near future – stay tuned!
~ Charley R