From the Archives: Approaching Ethnicity in Archaeology

Project Nightingale

http://www.amazon.co.uk/…/…/1508953651/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1 My wife’s latest novel is out here’s one of the reviews

“Project Nightingale is an exciting read, fast paced, pared down to the bone, a gush of a novel, set deep within a dangerous, murky world of future global espionage. Complex characters leap from the page into an unnervingly believable scenario where nothing and no one are quite as they seem. E.V. Greig intimates much, trusts the intelligence of her reader, and shows throughout a thoroughly convincing knowledge and understanding of the mechanics of spies and spying. Unlike some other novels in the genre E.V. Greig’s female characters are central, powerful and do not conform to stereotype – but then neither do the males. If a female director, Sigourney Weaver perhaps, got hold of this I could see Project Nightingale becoming the basis of an innovative and feminist ‘action’ movie.
I really enjoyed this novel, and would be more than happy to recommend it to other readers – particularly to women like myself – who generally find this genre far too macho for their taste.”

OPEN SUBMISSION: The Sirens Call – Issue #20 – All Men, All Horror – ‘Screams in the Night’

The Sirens Song

As a follow-up to our WiHM issue in February, we are devoting issue #20 of The Sirens Call ezine to men in the horror industry. We’ll be accepting short stories, flash fiction, and a limited number of poems from men only for this issue.

The criteria:

Your submission must be a work of HORROR fiction revolving around the theme of ‘Screams in the Night’. A scream can be an ear piercing bleat of terror, the sound of tires screeching on a paved road, a mechanical sound made by a thundering machine, or even a distant cry of an unknown animal. Be creative, think outside of the box, but make sure your story of horror revolves around a scream.

The type of horror pieces we are looking for are psychological, monster/creature, ghost/haunting, alien/otherworldly, or just damn scary!

The type of horror we do NOT want are stories of abuse and revenge…

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7 Ways To Show Love To Someone With Anxiety/Depression

Be Brave, and Talk

The hardest people to love are the ones who need it most.

In honour of Valentine’s Day, here are some ideas for showing love to friends and family members with anxiety/ depression:

1.) Give Compliments:

Chances are, someone who suffers from anxiety/depression also struggles with self esteem. Help her challenge her feelings of self loathing by giving her sincere, specific compliments. Being specific is really important, because it will make her more likely to remember what you said later. It will also make her more likely to believe you. For example, instead of saying, “You’re a good mom,” you could say something more meaningful: “You are so patient with your children. I love how you encourage them to keep trying. They are so lucky to have you.”
One thoughtful, genuine compliment has more power than 10 careless comments that feel like flattery. Put your heart into what you say.

2.)…

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Call for Submissions

Stairs and Whispers: D/deaf and Disabled Poets Write Back

Call for Submissions
UK Disability Poetry / Crip Poetics Anthology
Nine Arches Press
Editors: Sandra Alland, Markie Burnhope & Daniel Sluman
Deadline 31 July, 2015

Writing *to* disabled people has all sorts of implications, not just topic and diction but orientation, the things you don’t explain but just let float out there. When I consciously undertook writing poems with a crip audience in mind, I let go of the myth of universality.

–Jim Ferris, Poetry Magazine, 2014

Background Notes (click here for Submissions Guidelines):

Nine Arches Press has commissioned Sandra Alland, Markie Burnhope and Daniel Sluman to co-edit an anthology of UK Disability Poetry / Crip Poetics, which we think will be the first of its kind in the UK. We expect to be able to publish sometime in 2016.

In 2011, U.S.-based poetry editors Jennifer Bartlett, Sheila Black and Mike Northen collaborated to bring you Beauty Is A Verb

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Patreon to Europe on #VATMOSS: “Not our problem, mate.”

I had thought about using Patreon to generate funds for ANU glad I didn’t now as this looks bad.

Journal

Journal.

The Legend of Graymryh again :)

The Legend of Graymyrh Book One – Blood and Ashes is now available to review via Book Reviewer’s Workshop, many thanks to Angela Rose smile emoticon There are so many great books being showcased on this group now – fellow authors, writers, readers and reviewers, go and join!

Reuse of Cemeteries in Prehistoric Ireland

Contacting the author of The Legend of Greymyrh & an excerpt from book one.

https://www.facebook.com/evgreigauthorandillustrator

http://housekeeping396.wix.com/evgreigwriter

Excerpt from The Legend of Graymyrh Book One – Blood and Ashes. (Warning, contains spiders!)

Kristof was beginning to regret having volunteered their services in ridding the local farmers of the giant spider that had been devouring their livestock. His company had been hunting for the creature for almost a week with no sign of it. Well, aside from the webbing. That was everywhere: and furthermore it was extremely sticky. Whenever someone became trapped in it, which happened all too often, the others had to spend almost an hour freeing them – all the while wondering whether this would be the time that the accursed monster would strike.
Even Squeaky was disheartened. “Maybe we should just give up, boss.”
The mercenary shook his head. “I gave those farmers my word. A mercenary’s reputation depends on him keeping his word, and getting the job done.”
Ruiryk groaned. “Well there must be a better way of finding this stupid spider! Following its webbing hasn’t worked so far. I don’t understand how something so big as this thing is supposed to be can stay hidden!”
“It’s a giant spider, lad: they’re infamous for being stealthy!” Banor belched. “Might be easier to just lay a trap and wait for the bugger!”
Squeaky pointed to where some local men were driving sheep to market. “We could buy some of their flock to use as bait, boss.”
“I’m tempted to use Waneve!” Kristof glared at the horse. “Fine then: Squeaky, you and Ruiryk go buy a few sheep. Banor, you dig a pit. We’ll cover it with a latticework of poles and put the sheep on top of it to lure the spider in.”
“What good will that do?”
“Simple: there’ll be a half dozen of us hiding in the pit armed with sharpened stakes! Once the spider comes after the sheep, we’ll stab up into its underbelly. Damn beast should bleed out.”
Alyrra covered her ears. “Poor creature! Couldn’t we trap it and let it go elsewhere, away from the farms?”
Kristof stared at her. “It’s a giant spider, not a rare species of bird! Why would we want to let it live?”
“It’s only trying to survive, Kristof.” The healer frowned at him reproachfully.
Marwyn nodded. “The farms that are being affected were only recently built. That spider has probably been here for decades, living off wild animals…well, that and the occasional traveller.”
“I don’t care: the farmers are the ones who hired us, they are paying us to kill it!” Waneve reared then: squealing and kicking. Kristof swore and stormed over to where the horses were picketed. “Now what’s wrong with you, you mad brute?” He cuffed the stallion on the withers. “Stand, damn you!” Waneve snorted: his eyes rolling back in terror. The cart horses nickered warily then and trotted to the far side of the makeshift pen. A sudden awful suspicion touched Kristof’s heart. Turning slowly, he peered into the tall meadow grasses that surrounded their encampment. “Oh fuck!”
The spider was at least as large as three warhorses. A pale green banded with dark brown, it blended perfectly with its surroundings. Which explained why he hadn’t noticed it before now: even though he had passed within inches of its huge fangs to deal with Waneve. The mercenary gazed into the creature’s multiple eyes. The spider gazed back into his one. Kristof tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat. He stood frozen to the spot in mute horror at his predicament: wondering how to warn his companions without startling the beast into attacking him or them.
Little Javia skipped up to him then and hugged his leg. She laughed and pointed. “Spider!”
“Yes, that’s right: we’re looking for a big spider,” Alyrra followed the child over to where Kristof was standing. “But you mustn’t trouble the general, Javia: he’s very busy.”
She bent and picked up the child, turning to smile at Kristof as she did so. The spider reared onto its hind legs and sprang forwards: attracted by the movement before it. Kristof hurled himself at Alyrra and Javia. He slammed into them and knocked them flat beneath his weight as the spider passed over them all and landed next to the horses. Alyrra screamed, and Javia grumbled.
Kristof rolled to his feet and ran at the monstrous arachnid. “Let them be, damn you!” He swung Daemonslayer at the spider’s hind legs. It was faster than he had anticipated. His blade passed through empty air and suddenly the spider was scuttling away from them. “Damn it all, somebody stop that spider!”