Tag Archives: cupitonians.wordpress.com

The Daydreamer Challenge – Day 3

I am participating in the Daydreamer Challenge which is being run by A Little Daydreamer, For day 3 participants are asked to say something nice about another blog, (https://theteendaydreamer.wordpress.com/2015/04/08/the-daydreamer-chllenge-day-3/). There are so many excellent blogs out there so picking one was a difficult task. Consequently I have chosen a number of blogs as follows:

 

  1. https://cupitonians.wordpress.com/ – Anju has a wonderful blog which deals with life, the universe and everything. Her posts include travels to other countries (she lives in India) and articles about Indian culture.
  2. https://letscutthecrap.wordpress.com/ – Tess has fascinating articles regarding her travels in China and some excellent flash fiction.

Have You Ever Interviewed One Of Your Characters – Interview With Becky From The First Time

I have published two previous posts containing interviews with characters from my story, Samantha, http://newauthoronline.com/2014/02/14/have-you-ever-interviewed-one-of-your-characters/. Today I am interviewing the leading character from my story the First Time, a young graduate named Becky who enters the world of prostitution in order to clear her debts.

 

 

Interview

 

Me: “What is your earliest recollection?”

 

Becky: “Collecting bluebells with my grandfather. I remember the sun was shining, the birds singing and I was so happy to be with my grandfather. Those memories are incredibly precious”.

 

Me: “It sounds as though you had a happy childhood?”

 

“Becky: “Yes, I was surrounded by people who loved me. Mummy and daddy doted on me. Both of them  read to me, I grew up in a house full of books which is why, I guess I ended up reading English literature at university”.

 

Me: “much of the research into why people enter into prostitution appears to indicate that they suffered childhood abuse or some other trauma. From what you have told me about your childhood it doesn’t appear that you fit in with this stereotype”.

 

Becky: “You mean what is a nice middle class girl like me doing working as a prostitute?”

 

Me: “Not to put to fine a point on it, yes”.

 

Becky: “I ran up a huge credit card debt. There was no way, as a part-time barmaid I would ever be able to clear it. One of my friends, Julie worked as an escort and, in desperation I asked her to help me to enter the sex industry, as a prostitute which she did by introducing me to one of her clients, Mike”.

 

Me: “Didn’t you consider turning to your family for help?”

 

Becky: “No, mummy and daddy would have been so disappointed in me. They brought me up to live within my means, not to borrow accept for a mortgage. If you can’t afford it then you should save up for it or do without. That is there philosophy. I would have died of shame if  they had found out about my debts”.

 

Me: “What do you think their reaction would be if they found out that their daughter was working as a prostitute?”

 

Becky: “they would be horrified! Christ I would die of shame if they found out, that will never happen though.  I live in London and mummy and Daddy live in York”.

 

Me: “Do you feel that you have a choice in prostitution?

 

Becky: “If I haden’t entered sex work I would have had a huge credit card debt and it would have been impossible for me to live as all my money would have gone in paying off my card. I wasn’t physically compelled to become an escort but I had no other choice given the state of the jobs market”.

 

“Me: “do you enjoy your work?”

 

Becky: “What kind of a question is that?! I hate being treated like a piece of meat. Some men are nice and, of course it’s easier if the man is polite and converses with you rather than grabbing you as soon as you come through the door, doing the deed and then throwing you out in 30 minutes or so, but no I don’t enjoy being treated as a sex object”.

 

Me: “Can you see yourself giving up working as an escort?”

 

Becky: “I’d like to but, although I hate the work I like the money. You can make thousands a month if you work as an independent escort as you don’t have to give a percentage to the escort agency. I’ve seen girls who hate the work but love the money. I’m afraid that I may end up like one of them”.

 

Me: “Many thanks for talking to me Becky”.

 

 

For a review of The First Time please visit https://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/the-first-time-book-review/

Prostitution In India

Two of my short stories, “Samantha” and “The First Time” deal with the lives of women engaged in prostitution. In “Samantha” Sam is trapped in the world of prostitution and it is touch and go as to whether she will survive or end her days in the cold and murky waters of the river Mersey. In “The First Time” we meet Becky, a young graduat who enters the arena of prostitution as an escort in order to pay her creditors. Becky fears becoming homeless and the dread of sleeping on the streets leads her to take up sex work.

Given my interest in prostitution I was interested to read the following post on the issue in India, http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2010/08/03/guest-blog-legalizing-prostitution/. The post is worth a read and I recommend it to you.

For my Amazon author’s page please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Why I Write – Guest Post On Cupitonians

Many thanks to A (http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/) for inviting me to post on her excellent blog. You can find my post below

http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/2014/01/07/guest-blog-why-i-write/

 

The Magic Of A Story – Guest Post By Cupitonians

Many thanks to Cupitonians (http://cupitonians.wordpress.com/) for the below post. Anju has a wonderful blog which I would encourage you to visit.

 

 

My love for literature began when I was a toddler and my dad would enact Tom Sawyer or Oliver Twist before bedtime. I would squeal and jump about with glee, trying to imitate him every night. This was often accompanied by my English Teacher mom correcting my dad’s horrendous pronunciation of names (“It’s Shar-Lut not Char-lut-eh!”) and shaking her head in disbelief. Mum would tell different tales, lores from the various places she had lived as a travelling family, folk tales she’d heard from her friends from around the world, stories she ripped off from Chinua Achebe books. We grew up as a family with a lust for things that captured our imaginations.

 

It came as quite a surprise to my teachers that I was so passionate about my English Literature classes. Everyone else hated it and for good reason.  I studied in an all-girls convent school that was formerly a British hospital turned to a school for British-only students. Later, they opened the doors to Indians as well (I have since found out that my grandmother was among the first Indian students to set foot in that school). This brought in a lot of changes but the one thing that didn’t change was the syllabus. A huge part of our curriculum included all the famous British authors, including our beloved friend, William “Bard of Avon” Shakespeare.

 

While my classmates moaned and whined about how they wished “these damn writers would die” (“Erm, but, they are dead. That is sort of their claim to fame”) or the examination board would burn down and we would be free from these wretched exams, I would make jokes about opium eaters and how England is my soul country and how if you pricked us, would we not bleed? One particular teacher really resented me for correcting what I thought was her half-baked knowledge on my artists. And they were all MY writers, spinning stories just for me. To prove that my theories on her ignorance was right, for my final project where we were meant to write a story on based on a proverb, I copied word for a word a story from Nicholas Nickleby. She gave me a 100 on 100. Hence proved!

 

By the age of 15 (when I passed out from Indian high school) I had devoured every “masterpiece” that was on the top “to read” lists. I was reading Tolstoy & Nietzsche, James Joyce & Virginia Woolf, The Bronte Sisters & Jane Austen, Mark Twain & Ernest Hemingway. I came across a list of books that the school had banned, and being the rebel that I claimed I was, I read the Harry Potter books. When I went to University, I was studying (purely for the pleasure of it) American Literature, Indian Writing in English, Commonwealth Literature and well, I could go on. There also comes a certain arrogance from reading books such as the ones I was hooked on to – only a select group of “intellectual” people could read and discuss them. After a while, conversation with them would seem contrived because I wasn’t reading for form and the grammar. I was reading it for the story, for all the things unsaid and shining through in between the lines, for the places that only a great book could transport you to.  I do have a wanderlust to quench after all.

 

I still try to tick off book lists, that’s just me. I’m 21 down on the top 50 banned books and steadily making my way through the 100 greatest books of all time. But picking books isn’t as deliberate anymore. Sometimes I go to my favourite used book store and pick up a book whose title has caught my attention. Sometimes I open the front of these books and then buy them for the unique message someone had written to someone. If I have one flaw, it would be that I don’t like going by popular opinions, I need to form them myself. This has led me to losing 5 days of my life reading the Twilight series (which I have to say is a masterpiece compared to 50 shades, which I also read) and gaining so much more from reading the Hunger Games Trilogy. Like everything in life, there is a chance of a hit and miss but one thing’s for certain, there will always be the thrill of learning something, anything and the chance that you will come upon magic.