ABOUT

April 3, 2018

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People.  They make the world go round, don’t they?  I adore meeting new people and what better way than to do so through the medium of writing?

While writing is part of our everyday through form-filling, emails and texting, don’t you sometimes find yourself creating stories from something?  Or nothing?  Perhaps a scene unfolding through the windscreen while sat in your car, or a journey taken by a stranger in a dream you wake from? Strings of words appear in my mind; plots and twists, creating worlds which need exploring.

I have joined the Romantic Novelists Association and have somehow secured one of only 300 places on their New Writers Scheme for 2018. I can submit a manuscript (ideally around 80-90,000 words) by August, but earlier if possible … so should you choose to jump aboard and watch me progress, procrastinate, spend time on ‘other projects’ will you do me one favour? Shout and remind me I should be working on my WIP 🥂

I love the art of writing.  When I was a teenager I even loved to buy a new fountain pen and quality paper to go with it.  I would clear the desk of all ballpoint pens (riff raff) and push all homework away from sight (ghastly, even if necessary) in order that the new pen and paper would not be disturbed in their first outing.

The spoken word, then in ink but now mostly on a keyboard can entertain and educate,  make us laugh and cry.   If you read any of my posts here then I hope you leave entertained, educated or amused.

March update.  20,000 words down …. only another 60,000 to go … are you having a laugh????

Dozing and dreaming… and flicking away earwigs ‘Get off my toast’ (#cancerresearch)

June 23, 2018

Gold dust moments; The Holy Grail?

I have my eyesight to watch light filter through leaves moving in a breeze, and my hearing that I hear that same foliage; a varying rush of sound as it’s tested against stalks.

A 737 high high above, a faint boomb at 37,000 ft leaving white trails across the blue.

Resting after a morning’s exertion. A ‘pretty muddy’ cancer research 5K run. Two days ago I decide to join my daughter (how hard can it be? I was running 2K quite happily without stopping this time last year 😀) and this is not a serious event for most. It is about getting round, walking if necessary, negotiating pink inflatable obstacles and being prepared to get caked in mud on the way round.

Didn’t want the two paramedics on their bikes to be bored, so I gave them something to discuss. Y’know, just to make sure they weren’t asleep on the job.

Twang. Definitely ‘felt’ it go. Right calf … 2K in. “ooooh, that’s not good.” I grimace, hobbling immediately.

As the minutes tick by, along with the majority of the cerise-clad ladies from our 10:30 start group, daughter sweetly walks alongside me.

“It’s ok. We can walk the rest!” She turns and notes my facial expressions with each step, “or we can finish now?”.

No bloody way.

I have known far too many cancer sufferers and even right now know three dealing with that shit. Cancer Research is doing wonders for them and our future, as the various strains of this disease are likely to touch someone we know in the future. Hell, it could even be me one day, so I am here to give my support – and support the volunteers who’ve given their day to throwing buckets of mud at us I shall.

I sat and massaged offending calf which basically said to me “WTF were you thinking? Didn’t you even consider a sensible stretching and warming up session before you started? You plank 🙄”

I missed out the cargo nets and watched daughter hurl herself over them, groups of women all shapes and sizes and ages running and walking past my seated position on the scorched grass of our county town’s showground.

I hobbled on to the 3K mark, by which time I won’t say it had eased. That would be lying. But I’d discovered a style of gait which caused me only mild discomfort as opposed to nausea-inducing movement.

I may have looked less like an athlete and more like a drunken Saturday night reveller mixed with Long John Silver.

But I got round!

Half hour frozen peas then half hour hot water bottle. Hot and cold – usually the best encouragement for blood flow to the damaged area.

I’ll give it a day or two then ask my Physio friend to come round with her ultra sound … I can’t be lame for too long, not when I work for myself! Man of the Woods has been luscious and brought me tea and crunchy toast with melting butter – my favourite snack.

(Hey – least it doesn’t stop me reading or writing! 👌🏼 I’ve even been doing some chapter planning but wanted to pause and share my day with you peeps) 🌸

Any suggestions from doctors or physios, shall be much appreciated!!

The Old Man and The Sea … Ernest Hemingway 🐟🐟🐟

June 21, 2018

How about another blogger readathon? Just a quickie… check the size of this version so it shouldn’t take long. There have been many reprints of this classic since it first went into print in 1952.

Joseph Beech and Ortensia I’m hoping will join me?

I’ve wanted to read this ever since (here’s where you expect me to say something educated) I watched Denzel Washington reading a copy in the 2014 film The Equalizer.

I like the fact he refers to it in a couple of scenes and its moral is evidently linked to that of the film … but I need to read it to know fully how they link.

Come join us if you have a copy?

The Camden Moth; part 7

June 21, 2018

Bryan had been instructed to see where in England Oxalis was prevalent. Keely took herself home and after parking her car, decided to walk awhile to get some air.

‘Hello Kayleigh! Look at Miss Marple…’ Janet was gripping the hand of her sister, her main carer. Keely never corrected her mistake, the community were delighted Janet was out and about following a severe head injury two years earlier and a prolonged period of never setting foot outside.

‘She looks really well Janet!’ Bobbing down to pet the invisible dog, Keely grinned up at the sisters, Janet squatting beside her, their hands stroking the same air. ‘She’s been catching butterflies!’

The three talked a while longer until Keely’s phone sang out, indicating a call from Bryan.

‘Gotta go girls – see you around….. Go on?’ she walked away towards and turned to walk up past the allotments.

‘It grows everywhere, its nothing remarkable after all.  Often on rough unkempt ground. Hardly narrows it down does it?’ Bryan sighed.

A boy was stood further up the hill on the path and appeared to be shouting at a small dog through the fencing, invisible from her position at the bottom of the hill.

‘Ok, thanks Bryan. We’ll go see Wilkinson tomorrow. Get some rest.’

‘You ok?’ Bryan asked instead of ringing off.

‘I’m fine. See you tomorrow.’  she touched the red circle.

As she got closer she saw it was Isaac calling for that little rascal of theirs Mac.

‘Where’s he gone this time Isaac?’ She drew level and turned to look and saw the little dog’s attempts to dig against the side of an old shed. ‘Probably an old fox earth or a badger set. Let’s go in. It’s ok, you’re with me, services to the community!’ Keely pulled the lose chain link apart and Isaac stepped through and she followed.   Mac barked as they approached, his haunches tense and his muzzle snorting out soil before going in for another frantic front leg motion.  Isaac moved to grab his collar but he paused in his actions and growled.

‘He does that when he’s feeding sometimes, but he’s a good dog.’  Isaac worried that the policewoman Keely would think he was one of those dangerous dogs and report him.

‘It’s ok Isaac.  I think I can see why he’s so intent on digging.’

Read part 1 HERE

JoJo Moyes – #StillMe (more than simply ‘a book’)

June 21, 2018

Is it right to ignore your son who’s bent over to peer in at the cheese grilling on his too-thick slices of toast.

Is it right to need to race upstairs because you’ve reached the final chapter of your present read, which has been part of your life for the last few weeks and there are too many people chatting in the kitchen about the weather.

I need utter silence to concentrate, even from the background tv noise.. the presenter on ‘Storage Hunters’ is rolling his voice in auction mode quicker than I’d run from a queue to see Star Wars and right now it’s messing with my love life.

JoJo Moyes’ STILL ME has taken me longer to read than my reading buddies in the FB group, but we all know I read during portholes of time stolen from other pressing requirements.

Clever clues throughout the book are dotted for us to read; they come back to help tie up loose ends and assist in Lou Clark’s personal journey of discovery, that amazing girl from Stortford (who once only existed in JoJo’s mind).

🌸

I closed my bedroom door and continued to read the final chapter, my eyes already misty from two chapters earlier.

Lou HAS to make it through these crowds … FFS don’t let this fail JoJo … I NEED this to end well.

As a writer you hope your readers won’t simply enjoy your prose and find it well written. You want them to invest their time and care deeply about the characters.

The lines of letters passed through my eyes as she gets nearer and nearer to her destiny… my head is shaking, my heart rate is high … I’m gripping the duvet on my unmade bed…. PLEASE JoJo …

I turn the final page of a hardback book containing over 460 pages …. and I’m aware last night’s washing up still isn’t done because Love Island needed watching and Adam needed shooting.

The final two sentences and I’m balling my eyes out; that bittersweet moment. It’s finished. My journey with them is over.

Oh hell, I’d love to write like that 💫

Aim high, work hard. A poem.

June 20, 2018

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I fear the unknown,

Yet I yearn for it.

I look back for the familiar,

Yet I dream a future.

The excitement has a biological

effect on my blood flow.

I awaken with learning,

Even if it feels unstable.

The past is known,

the seat is safe.

I want to walk a tightrope;

balance to the other side.

A literary world I’ve

tip-toed around,

pulling grasses at the edge.

Inside great flowers bloom.

I want to smell them,

touch their petals.