tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24295601258389899882024-03-18T03:04:04.787+00:00Authors ElectricPublishing in the digital age - great writing, great reading, great craic.Katherine Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196712319655603442noreply@blogger.comBlogger4019125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-35627491034099214822024-03-18T00:30:00.001+00:002024-03-18T00:30:00.243+00:00Author Newsletters by Allison Symes<h4 style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #741b47;"> Image Credit: Images created in Book Brush using Pixabay photos.</span></i></b><br /></h4><p>Do you have an author newsletter? It took me a while to see their usefulness but I’m glad I have now got on board here. I use the free <i>Mailchimp</i> plan which is enough for my needs.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNW7N21zxnAtTcc2BJqO90LKk5zfkLpnymYTHDQLhhgV2rzifKMklvsSgTy32OsHcUHlz6huu6thxDRsM2VzIZgPooQE_6mZjm4hQrgdLsEZQo4qqsEVeFLfMm4kYW807hK3Ox2k1_-2nG95dRMrytsuuh7CE2xNUIX2jMdvzd-cHxrZmdlL1rEsUqew4/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Using%20an%20email%20service%20provider%20such%20as%20Mailchimp%20or%20Mailerlite%20makes%20it%20easy%20for%20readers%20to%20subscribe%20and%20unsubscribe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNW7N21zxnAtTcc2BJqO90LKk5zfkLpnymYTHDQLhhgV2rzifKMklvsSgTy32OsHcUHlz6huu6thxDRsM2VzIZgPooQE_6mZjm4hQrgdLsEZQo4qqsEVeFLfMm4kYW807hK3Ox2k1_-2nG95dRMrytsuuh7CE2xNUIX2jMdvzd-cHxrZmdlL1rEsUqew4/w400-h210/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Using%20an%20email%20service%20provider%20such%20as%20Mailchimp%20or%20Mailerlite%20makes%20it%20easy%20for%20readers%20to%20subscribe%20and%20unsubscribe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I use my monthly newsletter to share news, writing tips I’ve found useful, links to my on-line stories, my blog, plus I will share the odd giveaway (where I’ll put in some of my stories not found elsewhere). I enjoy putting the newsletter together and think this is crucial to the longer term success of such things, no matter how you define success.</p><p>I don’t define success by subscriber numbers funnily enough. It will be ages before I would have to upgrade to a paid plan on <i>Mailchimp</i> but what is encouraging is in having a consistently good open rate. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmA4MXzb6uxhE0NMX2AvEhk6w2lk3y5vsJlnHpenQTaxa9rw3q9GY8KSoSYm7obOXl4mTbV9RzuNH_T6JqCO1zUmWYyqYescxpggM5lMRPyxOaSLthz7gc-gkei5jY51KrLHjbODUMDzdDfmqwQtaNv1ixdD7KR87eCCKlxAddl51BP2ral5ffVgDtuw/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20I%20use%20my%20newsletter%20to%20share%20info,%20tips,%20news,%20things%20of%20value%20to%20a%20reader.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmA4MXzb6uxhE0NMX2AvEhk6w2lk3y5vsJlnHpenQTaxa9rw3q9GY8KSoSYm7obOXl4mTbV9RzuNH_T6JqCO1zUmWYyqYescxpggM5lMRPyxOaSLthz7gc-gkei5jY51KrLHjbODUMDzdDfmqwQtaNv1ixdD7KR87eCCKlxAddl51BP2ral5ffVgDtuw/w400-h266/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20I%20use%20my%20newsletter%20to%20share%20info,%20tips,%20news,%20things%20of%20value%20to%20a%20reader.jpg" width="400" /></a> <br /></div><p></p><p>I subscribe to author newsletters too. I love finding out what my favourite writers are up to, which was the key reason to finally decide to have a newsletter myself. <br /></p><p>If I have any specific news, most of the time it goes in the newsletter so my subscribers get “first dibs”. It is not always possible to do it for a variety of reasons but mostly I do. I know as a subscriber to newsletters, I appreciate the exclusivity aspect. It is like belonging to a special club and I want to encourage that feeling in mine. It’s a nice way of thanking readers for support. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeg1AQK_RJfJfmM2SG2BDLWtlJxrHiNvZnOpI_owef0b0hzQECmbJQ8GkcFHfS_pFGPVnday6vLkrcmiPxRusmkQZxZoSxQvMaRh76QES_YF3_iNTpEhGkQReuSFJOSUB4Uy-7brvqFkj30PeEqpvwRhF6IAT-nQDSmGdRE93QDXLCZDTGHEN_H2GSeAY/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20You%20can%20learn%20so%20much%20from%20reading%20other%20writers'%20newsletters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeg1AQK_RJfJfmM2SG2BDLWtlJxrHiNvZnOpI_owef0b0hzQECmbJQ8GkcFHfS_pFGPVnday6vLkrcmiPxRusmkQZxZoSxQvMaRh76QES_YF3_iNTpEhGkQReuSFJOSUB4Uy-7brvqFkj30PeEqpvwRhF6IAT-nQDSmGdRE93QDXLCZDTGHEN_H2GSeAY/w400-h210/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20You%20can%20learn%20so%20much%20from%20reading%20other%20writers'%20newsletters.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I went for a monthly newsletter as this is often enough to be interesting but not so often it will annoy. All of the newsletters I subscribe to are monthly. It also gives me plenty of time to prepare material for the newsletter in advance, save as I go, and add to and edit as needed. I like the send a test email feature too and make good use of that.</p><p>I aim for a chatty informative style and like this approach in the newsletters I read. I also make a note of when favourite authors have new books out (and hope folk do this for mine!). </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbMzCI4lS4nXtD5-093YbicyYJQwbpCJS4PTYfquERggFylFx1BQS8uw7VZsXjPqxY-R1l56pa5lj6UuiSqsYPbSYFSw4E-5FlZePL2naRfM4w3xr59AbchQ2wFxZG66lGAGxUMx9MllKIiGQTeVgz6L022MQ4DqW1RnedLrUoUrvMzIeTs2PimEDaGU/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20I%20chose%20to%20send%20a%20newsletter%20out%20monthly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxbMzCI4lS4nXtD5-093YbicyYJQwbpCJS4PTYfquERggFylFx1BQS8uw7VZsXjPqxY-R1l56pa5lj6UuiSqsYPbSYFSw4E-5FlZePL2naRfM4w3xr59AbchQ2wFxZG66lGAGxUMx9MllKIiGQTeVgz6L022MQ4DqW1RnedLrUoUrvMzIeTs2PimEDaGU/w400-h266/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20I%20chose%20to%20send%20a%20newsletter%20out%20monthly.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I usually have a topic for the month. I shared 29 tips/prompts for February 2024, using the Leap Year to inspire that idea. Incidentally, do you get more done on that extra day, writing related or not? I’m not sure I do. Though it does give me an extra day in which to get my March newsletter ready!</p><p>I use pictures. I use Book Brush (who use<i> Pixabay</i> free images). Sometimes I get to share audio clips if I’ve had a flash story broadcast or have been on a podcast. I like the versatility of newsletters here. I share videos and sometimes create an exclusive flash fiction video via my <i>YouTube</i> channel. Here I just change settings so I can ensure it only goes to my newsletter subscribers. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUpOlTAKPUPiArOuYzXwN0fWd4j1WRvwBh4y8Lle2pyivzfl79VWMgswaEpZZ3LRXT96MKk6n2jHwVPFsEE43SZAmcI6VPC458DSK6LXg86IVzJjbfAlhLSM2WOAS8tEqFP5nzQagCJNk9KQkpv0q80STJF0RIT2b4ebFyt9DoVcv8hInmKDb-JMX6Rk/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Be%20consistent%20with%20newsletter%20sends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUpOlTAKPUPiArOuYzXwN0fWd4j1WRvwBh4y8Lle2pyivzfl79VWMgswaEpZZ3LRXT96MKk6n2jHwVPFsEE43SZAmcI6VPC458DSK6LXg86IVzJjbfAlhLSM2WOAS8tEqFP5nzQagCJNk9KQkpv0q80STJF0RIT2b4ebFyt9DoVcv8hInmKDb-JMX6Rk/w400-h210/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Be%20consistent%20with%20newsletter%20sends.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>What I aim to do for every newsletter I send is fun because writing should be fun (most of the time), yes? <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg951kWZOTUVRGhyD2KEvysM3HOJ4s-3Rz_FgvJMU8RfkA9uNrrXLX-pufSJNendfcKhrKvbMcYn5Q1mvTvT03MopkKdXECuNChbpF_Q8AQftykU74iY6XgMihtNvoljGmNzwnB_5FB46PYCX97NRoNcoV4S4g8XbYhinVC9SbOwC_sP0GEJDzeN3rvjHc/s640/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Newsletters%20are%20part%20of%20an%20author's%20marketing%20of%20course%20but%20they%20also%20help%20you%20reach%20out%20to%20readers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg951kWZOTUVRGhyD2KEvysM3HOJ4s-3Rz_FgvJMU8RfkA9uNrrXLX-pufSJNendfcKhrKvbMcYn5Q1mvTvT03MopkKdXECuNChbpF_Q8AQftykU74iY6XgMihtNvoljGmNzwnB_5FB46PYCX97NRoNcoV4S4g8XbYhinVC9SbOwC_sP0GEJDzeN3rvjHc/w400-h210/AE%20-%20March%202024%20-%20Newsletters%20are%20part%20of%20an%20author's%20marketing%20of%20course%20but%20they%20also%20help%20you%20reach%20out%20to%20readers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br /></p>Allison Symeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05480799246770738134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-1133275445518131502024-03-17T00:30:00.031+00:002024-03-17T00:30:00.149+00:00Transport Options, by Elizabeth Kay<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ0n0c0TmcuIGVOlz2X68yByMX33E-gn9wr71tdP8fi7Y6EoXNtiIIxpOpaYVL79gFNkVvvFXK9RoPhc6nCkwgIe65tc7Keg_YmxcxkWcIF2v8f4lsiAUQP6ApC63MMrlsYMrn63CgclkUPvpedtWJokakh-M3V3HHaRveOfbfBO2PoFkMrojEC2OKAk/s4896/Liz%20sled%20edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3672" data-original-width="4896" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJ0n0c0TmcuIGVOlz2X68yByMX33E-gn9wr71tdP8fi7Y6EoXNtiIIxpOpaYVL79gFNkVvvFXK9RoPhc6nCkwgIe65tc7Keg_YmxcxkWcIF2v8f4lsiAUQP6ApC63MMrlsYMrn63CgclkUPvpedtWJokakh-M3V3HHaRveOfbfBO2PoFkMrojEC2OKAk/s320/Liz%20sled%20edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>What sort of transport is there going to be in your book? How
is your hero/heroine going to effect an escape when the odds are stacked against them? There
are so many things to consider, and being both believable and original can be a
tough call. The genre and the age-group are the most important things to
consider at the outset. Children are the easiest, as suspending disbelief comes
naturally during play. Adults are a bit harder. I’ve divided things into
categories, to make things easier for me as well as everyone else! So I’m
taking the UK and the US as standard here, and then I’ll deal with the rest of
the world. Many categories overlap, as the entertainment industry has borrowed
from a multitude of sources. I’ve excluded transport which is regarded as more
of a sport, such as skating, hang-gliding, wind-surfing, scuba-diving, etc.,
although they may be relevant when you’re trying to find a way of getting someone
out of a sticky situation.<br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Ordinary everyday</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Underground or subway, train, tram, boat (both sail and
engine-powered). Submarine, aeroplane, hovercraft, horse (occurs in most
categories, due to impressive back catalogue). Funicular railway, bicycle, E
scooters, helicopter. Make sure you know the right vocabulary, too! This is
from a book called <i>The Bone Brokers</i>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">“I don’t think so,” said Safari-suit.
Than he simply pulled out a pistol, and levelled it at us. “Stop wasting time,”
he said, “and get in the chopper.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“It’s a helo,” muttered the
pilot. “Not a <i>chopper</i>.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">I felt as though I had suddenly
found myself up to my ankles in quicksand.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Get in the bloody chopper,” said
Safari-suit, waving the pistol at us. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“<i>Helo</i>,” muttered the
pilot.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Oh for god’s sake, Alan,” said
Safari-suit. “Why are pilots all such pedants?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Because using the wrong term
when you’re airborne can make the difference between life and death.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Safari-suit turned back to us. “Get
in the bloody <i>helo</i>, then<i>.”</i><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Rest of the World</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogIqsInWUyKcRiP7QICLiSSNIfmFMiV5U9KBdY5KM-11_HxwsMz2jveU1fxt2xlISlhy1GoWMOdHofKihsp2w2IXG7sMiTUzk1QUkw-QWqbO5vyO2lq0kokB3B2Gal82iZZZNhyphenhyphenK65BUezZ3yDAm8cC5eMKSItZvP18a3G33wORND3cM0FP2ERBwryk8/s1615/Liz%20on%20camel.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1615" data-original-width="1018" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgogIqsInWUyKcRiP7QICLiSSNIfmFMiV5U9KBdY5KM-11_HxwsMz2jveU1fxt2xlISlhy1GoWMOdHofKihsp2w2IXG7sMiTUzk1QUkw-QWqbO5vyO2lq0kokB3B2Gal82iZZZNhyphenhyphenK65BUezZ3yDAm8cC5eMKSItZvP18a3G33wORND3cM0FP2ERBwryk8/s320/Liz%20on%20camel.JPG" width="202" /></a></div>I have travelled in or on most of these in one continent or
another, with varying degrees of discomfort. Camel, donkey, zebu cart, tuk-tuk,
elephant, dog sled, rickshaw, canoes (or dugouts) punts (or mokoros). They all
have their own disadvantages – elephants tend to stop if they see bananas on
sale, mokoros are subject to hippo attacks in the Okavango Delta, tuk-tuks have
a flagrant disregard for traffic, and camels spit. Huskies are over-enthusiastic,
and consequently a sled will take off at full speed.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p> </o:p></b><b>Horror</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Christine</i>. Stephen King is the business when it comes
to scary. Christine is a psychopathic car that re-assembles itself every time
someone takes a sledgehammer to it. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hal. An early example of when AI is in charge of a
spaceship, which doesn’t turn out well.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Science Fiction</b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Spaceships, teleporting, swapping bodies with an alien.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Steampunk<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Incorporates retro-futuristic technology adapted from 19<sup>th</sup>
century industrial steam-powered machinery, and takes place in an alternative
world. Philp Pullman’s <i>Northern Lights </i>is a good example of this.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Adaptations of balloons and air ships<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Steam trains, especially ones with cowcatchers on the front
of the engine.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-color-alt: windowtext;">Paddle steamers. In the early 19th century, paddle wheels
were the predominant way of propulsion for steam-powered boats. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>Fantasy<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Becoming a fairy and growing wings. Even as an adult, I have
dreamt I could fly. It’s so easy in a dream, you just stand there and find
yourself gradually rising above the ground until you’re at rooftop height thinking,
why didn’t Ido this before? I didn’t have wings, though.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Becoming a mermaid and growing a fishtail as well as
discovering you can breathe underwater. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dragons. I had a lot of fun with my dragon airline Easy-flap
in <i>The Divide</i>. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Tansy packed her things, and made
her way to the fire-breather terminal on her own. She had to queue, and she
stood there seething. It would be getting dark soon; flights stopped at sunset.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuB6YnhuHCll5aoQCQwe_yx575YBD49lfZZwaTtlS1biI3ru1fKp6K31Zp-jXItgics8CC2FZPK1_kQvdNZR1ChXIfB_Yl3DKkjCy0RyDiMEVUSmJ3pnacL2BwQC3wOOWVTNyfzonW__YReCiSNwai5IXsWoY0woOXjEl6b3XrsC3JibJ8FU-Zm3_lfO4/s800/dragon%20001%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="800" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuB6YnhuHCll5aoQCQwe_yx575YBD49lfZZwaTtlS1biI3ru1fKp6K31Zp-jXItgics8CC2FZPK1_kQvdNZR1ChXIfB_Yl3DKkjCy0RyDiMEVUSmJ3pnacL2BwQC3wOOWVTNyfzonW__YReCiSNwai5IXsWoY0woOXjEl6b3XrsC3JibJ8FU-Zm3_lfO4/s320/dragon%20001%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">There was only one fire-breather
left in the embarkation area at that time in the evening, but fortunately it
was one of the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">Whopper</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> range. Tansy
preferred the big ones; the take-off would be smoother, and there was more
leg-room as the seats on the saddle were arranged in two rows either side of
the creature’s spine. There would be in-flight catering, as well – a little
table flipped down from the seat in front, beneath the windshield, and there
would be packets of nuts and miniature gourds of fertle-juice.<br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Magic Carpets are good fun, too. <i>From Back to the Divide</i>.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Let me introduce myself,” said
the rug, its voice emanating from different bits of its surface. “I’m the very
latest design. Top of the range. My name is Nimblenap; Nimby for short.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Felix burst out laughing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">The rug rippled with displeasure.
“What’s wrong with Nimby?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“It’s an acronym,” said Felix.
“Not In My Back Yard.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“I can land just about anywhere,”
said the carpet, offended. “From the smallest back yard to the most
inaccessible mountain ledge.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Felix is from another world,”
said Betony, not wishing to waste time in explanations.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“<i>Well</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shuttle my weft</i>,” exclaimed the rug in an awe-struck voice. “What
an honour it is to meet you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Creep,” said the rush mat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“Smarmy git,” said someone else.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">“We’ll take the polite one,” said
Felix, pointing at the cherry red rug.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">James Bond films tend to mix and match as many methods of
transport as possible, and switching from one to another is exciting, with unpredictable
consequences. In the TV series <i>Hunted</i>, watching the fugitives trying to
outwit the security services was fascinating, so you may also want to consider
which forms of transport have CCTV, and which don’t. In a book, the different
pictures inside your head lend a lot of visual variety to a chase of any sort, so
don’t opt for the obvious. And remember that animals are a law unto themselves,
however well-trained, and even the most docile old horse may decide that there
is a wolf lurking behind that boulder.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanzqI7NcfxCSHFcBJIC6ivoa0VLtgXFYWKbStM3KogTUTTX4eZdBK-Cql5vA_19yXEztrCLTd0rGD1ZQsSgT9W5vZynbCsiiO10O_v5MQnX8G4wmrfRfq-wnsFwAOI8P4pD3DbI5aHL7DL_XEzXlGH0KGv1mYTtqBc8LWCZuJ5tr2K-v0qtO03yl2L8o/s2560/20160909_155415%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhanzqI7NcfxCSHFcBJIC6ivoa0VLtgXFYWKbStM3KogTUTTX4eZdBK-Cql5vA_19yXEztrCLTd0rGD1ZQsSgT9W5vZynbCsiiO10O_v5MQnX8G4wmrfRfq-wnsFwAOI8P4pD3DbI5aHL7DL_XEzXlGH0KGv1mYTtqBc8LWCZuJ5tr2K-v0qtO03yl2L8o/w384-h640/20160909_155415%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p>Elizabeth Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16773078844943829786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-44856780581196297372024-03-14T07:30:00.007+00:002024-03-14T07:30:00.135+00:00What Can an Editor Do That You Can't?--Reb MacRath<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXR5Z23U1o_drAWFKz7TFtzjhzeReSG1BgsqlDJzRTeLa17Tj_R01VWPVOlS2jDmwa0_vwBUNWiYojeThqxiLGHVYJTuAJ7TQjIgz3ABQtl0dgAhzg6_he95n2aXkWygp4l7f0XDQJv1PGtJlh1tGrIbdyQfXGOmprQ1cNSSQYCXveoj3GVEmhgOvKFk/s1200/editor.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="1200" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoXR5Z23U1o_drAWFKz7TFtzjhzeReSG1BgsqlDJzRTeLa17Tj_R01VWPVOlS2jDmwa0_vwBUNWiYojeThqxiLGHVYJTuAJ7TQjIgz3ABQtl0dgAhzg6_he95n2aXkWygp4l7f0XDQJv1PGtJlh1tGrIbdyQfXGOmprQ1cNSSQYCXveoj3GVEmhgOvKFk/w400-h209/editor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Tomfoolishness and poverty prevented me for too long from having anyone edit my work. After all, I reasoned, what could one do that I couldn't? I went through every page no less than fifty times, then ran the last through Premium ProWriting Aid. I had beta readers too. And I had won a Stoker Award, along with some glowing reviews. But I'd entered the Zone of the Big-Time Boohoo, readier by the day to rant until the cows came home against agents and trad publishing. Or, worse, to beg hourly on Facebook for more reviews and sales. My work, I believed, had been good enough--but good enough no longer cuts it.</p><p>Last year I reviewed my quandary in a colder light. I'd been around for decades: first as a horror writer, then as the author of mysteries too quirky and short for the gatekeepers' taste. And, as an older writer, I may have grown set in my ways--likely more than a few of them bad.</p><p>I had to reinvent myself, to do something dramatically different. It had to be bigger and better than anything else that I'd done. At the same time, it had to be free of past rot, reading more quickly and clearly. </p><p>A book idea came to me that I thought might be perfect--with the right editor's help. And I thought I might know the right one for the job. I retained Luke Romyn to edit the book's opening pages--ready whether an agent asked for the first five, ten, twenty-five, or fifty. Luke did phenomenal work, so good that I decided to have him edit the book in sections through this year.</p><p><br /></p><p>To answer the question posed in my title, the right editor can do these nine things and more:</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wZq6erLZspPMAPLa_aaQ379RRdzcPi9-gaXcevCR0IEMusfPJ3YlkP0Da2NzgCDbvW97ioSjesSmmfdDWi85AZwAHHxhqaGusra7_4xMfxoD39ClpkFLdQgggzaatvYBtw43tnEmxtJNMQuKlnTyNzGZSB7uwDcheDSdBRxQYBar1jwIFwWSbXCTqpo/s612/editor2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wZq6erLZspPMAPLa_aaQ379RRdzcPi9-gaXcevCR0IEMusfPJ3YlkP0Da2NzgCDbvW97ioSjesSmmfdDWi85AZwAHHxhqaGusra7_4xMfxoD39ClpkFLdQgggzaatvYBtw43tnEmxtJNMQuKlnTyNzGZSB7uwDcheDSdBRxQYBar1jwIFwWSbXCTqpo/s320/editor2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">1) Streamline, clarify, and simplify phrasing.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">2) Help the plotting put on speed.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">3) Point out references and allusions that younger readers might miss.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">4) Spot reduce paragraphs that carry too much weight.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">5) Know when to cut or move passages that don't work where they are.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">6) Let the writer know when words or phrases may be unintentionally offensive. </span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">7) Tell the writer when clues are late or premature.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">8) Suggest dramatic gestures to bring dialogue to life.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">9) Over and over, admonish the writer to show and not tell.</span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;">10) Improve dialogue that's stiff or out of character. </span></b></p><p><b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></p><p><span>Back to work now, readying the next chapters to send Luke...when he returns from Mount Everest!</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><span> *****</span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSPANKVZcN_pG-_a7aX2SCNf9J-L0wNCNJpQEuPpnicX86QrlK6E7438BuSD4Ugn5InxqtDYMv5u6Sb-IcDJo9Vvf-0I9wyJBuNrn3Wgf5FT-BmvMwuU6NVLLtKK_Ef8BdHE0Jce1m2Y/s1200/tower.best.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="801" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikSPANKVZcN_pG-_a7aX2SCNf9J-L0wNCNJpQEuPpnicX86QrlK6E7438BuSD4Ugn5InxqtDYMv5u6Sb-IcDJo9Vvf-0I9wyJBuNrn3Wgf5FT-BmvMwuU6NVLLtKK_Ef8BdHE0Jce1m2Y/w160-h239/tower.best.jpeg" width="160" /></a></p><p><b><br /></b></p><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: medium;"><b>Welcome to MacRathWorld, if you like premium blends of mystery, action, and suspense. From Caesar's Rome to Seattle today, the twists fly at the speed of night. If you're unfamiliar with my work, I recommend starting with the new Seattle BOP mysteries. Here's the link to my AuthorPage on Amazon for a detailed look at the variety of 'rides' in my amusement park.</b></span></div><p><a href="https://tinyurl.com/y3fdxo7q" style="font-size: large;">https://tinyurl.com/y3fdxo7q</a></p></div><div><br /></div></div><p></p><div><br /></div><p><span><br /></span></p><p><span>t</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Reb MacRathhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03645014425062542505noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-56584057689180666172024-03-11T00:30:00.002+00:002024-03-11T10:30:16.619+00:00It's the Little Things by Misha Herwin <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDdNPyI3C8fMJ_y1Dm3U6SK4ihvydNVoibBKpnMCst27vBA-C1gWqywkS4MdFtj0vQyXT5TIv6oSdyCz-ix5Kz6NwygF_1poygjyy5_y97a1BZIo5DZ0n9g7X2XdBH_6604tm1XQTPIAfj1yinTZ5Z-t8gOwE48iPxuTPyq6KGWBHe-5gnRCzAw6qBuRe/s3264/Snowdrops.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizDdNPyI3C8fMJ_y1Dm3U6SK4ihvydNVoibBKpnMCst27vBA-C1gWqywkS4MdFtj0vQyXT5TIv6oSdyCz-ix5Kz6NwygF_1poygjyy5_y97a1BZIo5DZ0n9g7X2XdBH_6604tm1XQTPIAfj1yinTZ5Z-t8gOwE48iPxuTPyq6KGWBHe-5gnRCzAw6qBuRe/s320/Snowdrops.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Scrolling
through my phone this morning I saw the quote that inspired this blog. Not
realising it at the time I got up and went to do something else at which point
what I wanted to write was fully formed but there was no way I could find the
exact quote I wanted to use. So instead of a few pithy words I am ambling
through this long introduction, which is a little ironic as I want to write
about how the small things in life are the ones that can bring joy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">This
is especially true when it comes to evaluating success. I don’t make a living
out of my writing. I’m not sure if I even cover the costs on some of my books,
nor am I well known for what I do. I can’t say therefore if being in the best
seller list would make me any happier than I am. Initially I suspect there
would be a moment of euphoria, a sense of achievement at having finally been
validated by the rest of the world. But how long would that last? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">In
the event, this is a question I will never have to answer. What I do know is
that those moments of recognition by other people, which might never be
replicated in sales or fame, are the ones that spark joy and tell me that what
I do does matter. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Years
ago, I was talking to another member of the drama group I go to about “Shadows
on the Grass.” I had no idea she would buy it or that having read it she would
go to the trouble of writing me a note. Kept safe in my Feel Good Box it finishes
reads “I am 99 this year and so glad I have lived long enough to enjoy your
writing.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">More
recently, this year’s World Book Day I heard that the daughter of a friend of a
friend had gone to school dressed as Amelia, the apprentice witch from “The
Awesome Adventures of Poppy and Amelia.” It’s impossible to describe the bound
of joy I felt when I was told this and even now I’m smiling as I type. As for
my fellow author, granddaughter Maddy, her response came in a single word<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Wow” followed by a star burst emoji.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpIz-Lt_Ng30qnOpBA_vNpM8X_TYJWFUqq0kdQr5N6SlFklGK5nifvuplmPBcPXrRIk2ib_PKzAacKXbi76j2I6euQP4ZWUWn-yNd35WB8juIQ-a9cgpCFAIy7bA0YXgnnwxllP_EgxrLBl25sjVcp1JmHZog4KPZ9KUSYa8NCTEp18A2KuyDBsYfVjcM/s4032/~Poppy%20Amelia%20and%20Mia.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpIz-Lt_Ng30qnOpBA_vNpM8X_TYJWFUqq0kdQr5N6SlFklGK5nifvuplmPBcPXrRIk2ib_PKzAacKXbi76j2I6euQP4ZWUWn-yNd35WB8juIQ-a9cgpCFAIy7bA0YXgnnwxllP_EgxrLBl25sjVcp1JmHZog4KPZ9KUSYa8NCTEp18A2KuyDBsYfVjcM/s320/~Poppy%20Amelia%20and%20Mia.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Poppy, Amelia and their vampire friend Mia as drawn by Maddy aged 9</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p>mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02817380292408084414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-56909462669873110662024-03-11T00:02:00.043+00:002024-03-11T19:16:57.490+00:00Is It a New Publishing Model Though? I Guess We'll Watch and See... by Dianne Pearce<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgdbdmBH7bJc_yxF9xPtYE-D8L2xZWiJpTRJx8_W9JJPoLbFjd7Ud0yKc0N1qh0yyUu5b6Ke9onUh_W70F3lr_dpWFjO0yFbBsyDNdHUOsUmxoH6iXoheKPjO7fYuTHTOVaC6a4PEjZKaCjUsso32j_pNIYbDdkM1eLP4Ai02EpEqadWWVAFYUSvfmfyV/s1348/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%204.01.21%E2%80%AFPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1348" data-original-width="1308" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgdbdmBH7bJc_yxF9xPtYE-D8L2xZWiJpTRJx8_W9JJPoLbFjd7Ud0yKc0N1qh0yyUu5b6Ke9onUh_W70F3lr_dpWFjO0yFbBsyDNdHUOsUmxoH6iXoheKPjO7fYuTHTOVaC6a4PEjZKaCjUsso32j_pNIYbDdkM1eLP4Ai02EpEqadWWVAFYUSvfmfyV/w468-h482/Screenshot%202024-03-10%20at%204.01.21%E2%80%AFPM.png" width="468" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/05/books/publisher-authors-equity.html" style="text-align: left;">https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/05/books/publisher-authors-equity.html</a>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">t's no secret that I am a publisher.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And, after seven years as an indie publisher, I am changing my business model to be an author services model. So, you can self-publish, anyone can with some minor computer savvy, but you can also do it with my help.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The difference between what I was doing and what I am now doing is that, before, I was an "indie," meaning that I took a book on spec, and did quite a bit of work to create the book in the various formats, and hoped it would sell, and, if it did sell, split the profits with the authors.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The authors tended to give me their book, and then waited for it to sell.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, (if I choose to take a book) I ask for a fee for my services, and the author gets the same services from me, but keeps all the profits, should they occur.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This change means two things for the author who wants to work with me:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">>They must pay for the services I used to do for free</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">and</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">>They have a lot more incentive to market themselves because, absent the self-marketing, their book is never going to sell anyway.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A good many authors do not seem to realize that their sales are self-dependent, and that made it particularily tough to survive as an indie publisher. Yes, you put blood, sweat, and tears (cliche as it is) into your book, but, as your publisher, so did I. The difference is that as much as I might try to shout from the rooftops about your book, no reader wants to buy a book from a publisher. Readers want to buy from authors.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>However, in these last seven years I have learned a good deal about how to make a well-written book into a well-publis</span>hed book. And so there is expertise and experience there that most authors don't have. So, is your book, and your writing career, worth the investment into a partner/author services publisher? It's something to think about.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Then along comes <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/05/books/publisher-authors-equity.html" target="_blank">this article </a>which I found extraordinary for many reasons.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">~</span>The company has financial sponsors, and is being run by "...t</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636; font-family: inherit;">he former chief executive of Penguin Random House [ ] the former chief executive of Macmillan [and] the former president of strategic development at Penguin Random House.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;">~"</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;">Their books will be distributed by Simon & Schuster, where Ms. McIntosh serves as a board member and which is one of the country’s major publishers.<span style="font-size: x-small;">"</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;">So, are they a new "indie" publisher, or are they a </span><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54);">subsidiary, even though they don't say they are a subsidiary?</span></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636; font-family: inherit;">AND</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">~Its model also won’t work for every author. Most need an upfront payment to live on while they write their books. But Ms. McIntosh said that despite the risks, this model is not only for authors who already have devoted readers."</span></span></div><p><b style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That last one particularly got me. </span></b></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We're talking about typical advances here of under $8,000. Do you know anyone out there who can live for a year, or more, on $8000 while he/she/they finish the second book? I mean, not in Los Angeles, Philly, or even the little town I lived in in southern Delaware.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now you may say, "Lady, you are charging authors, who are you to talk?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); color: #363636;"><span>Well, yes, I hope to keep </span></span><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54);">publishing as I love doing it and I am skilled at it, and, no, I cannot keep doing it all for free and hope for the best because I don't have all their (Authors Equity) money behind me and certainly I don't have Simon and Schuster distributing books I publish.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">But what smells a bit about this to me is that they are seeming to indicate that any author could get to them, and get chosen by them, and la-de-dah everything will come up roses. I don't think it is likely that most writers could get chosen, and I think that, if the authors do not sell, and sell well, the whole thing will collapse pretty quickly, and, lastly, I don't think it is in any way a new model. It seems to be just "pretend" indie publishing as they have a huge corporate machine behind them.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">But, maybe it will all be as wonderful as they say, and I will be hoping to get hired there in a few years.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">Maybe.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">Publishing is not what I thought it was when I was only an author and not a publisher.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">Publishing is not what I thought it was when I became a publisher.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">And, honestly, it took me a few years to realize how different publishing is from the dream I always had as a writer, and from the dream I had as a novice publisher too.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">I really thought a good book would "hit," and everyone would make money, and we'd all just quit our day jobs.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">That isn't what is happening at all.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">The big guys still are waving their large and well-funded arms in front of readers' faces to distract them from the smaller companies, and the unknown authors. The big guys are not in it for the authors; they're in it for the sweet-sweet-Stephen-King-cash, as it were.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">And then you have all the self-published authors, folks who DIY, and know they have to learn how to do everything, and they hit social media every single day, working their butts off to sell their books while writing their next books, and working their day jobs, if they hope to make a career of it. And a lot of them do. It's not different, really, from an influencer who needs new content every day to stay relevant. A lot of self-published authors are putting out a book a month, trying to break-in to the reading public WalMart style: flood it.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">In between those two forces competing for eyes you have indies (true indies, with no corporate or university backing), hybrids, author services, and vanity.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;">And so, because these heavy-hitters with deep pockets and star-connections can get the New York Times to profile them and say how they're going to be different, are they truly going to be different?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #363636;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(54, 54, 54); font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love helping authors who write books I believe in. I hope all of my authors become huge successes, and I hope I get to keep publishing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For authors my advice is that if self-publishing, DIY, is too much for you, try to get a traditional deal, but know, <i>know,</i> <b>know</b> that even if you get an advance, your book is not going to sell, unless <b><i><u>you </u></i></b>sell it. And if your sales don't earn as much as the advance, no one at your publisher will invite you back with book two. Will this "new" company with the radical no-advance model (that is the same exact model hard-working indies have been using for years, no matter what these guys say) invite you back if your book doesn't sell? </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Do your due diligence (Merriam-Webster says: DUE DILIGENCE <span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(33, 37, 41); color: #212529;">research and analysis of a company or organization done in preparation for a business transaction).</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(33, 37, 41); color: #212529; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #212529;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(33, 37, 41); font-family: inherit;">Good luck with your book~</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #212529;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(33, 37, 41); font-family: inherit;">Dianne</span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">(<a href="https://dpearcewrites.com/">https://dpearcewrites.com/</a>)<br /> </span><p></p>Dianne Pearcehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17184391408486013783noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-13694738213480902402024-03-09T00:00:00.045+00:002024-03-09T09:28:57.696+00:00How to Live with the End in Mind: Wendy Mitchell’s Choice -- by Julia Jones<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://authorselectric.blogspot.com/2022/03/by-time-you-read-this-ill-be.html">When John’s Campaign went to the House of Commons in March 2022</a> to explain why legislation is needed to ensure the right to a care
supporter, we were asked who we would like to speak on our behalf. Without
hesitation Nicci Gerrard and I invited Wendy Mitchell. We feel passionately that there should
be ‘nothing about us without us’ but as a dementia campaign it is not always
easy to find people living with the condition who feel able to describe their
experience in public. Wendy was diagnosed with early onset dementia in 2014
when she was 58. At first, she sank into a deep depression but then decided
that there was hope. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would live as
well as she could for as long as she could – and encourage others to do the
same. Since then, thousands -- perhaps millions -- of people have been inspired
by Wendy though her blog ‘Which Me Am I today?’ her books, her public
appearances and her extraordinary feats such as sky diving and wing-riding, undertaken when she discovered that battling dementia had taken away her fear.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx5qz1F9bROwiILk5nsJR7FpPEEKgI64HulEc4BN5h11Y4uLsGJTXLiZxNFkLuZgiEUIRLa5NkxleiyeHzMwA-3kl_Ic1X36jWM-E61w95m9WJXVypqOP6OOFHPBjaLdXlJHfm8-3vbEWqhlVdRTZsMxI0bsHPLWB77P-GgXbzHu8XykUXPXhmp_GR4Vo/s1200/unnamed%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1200" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwx5qz1F9bROwiILk5nsJR7FpPEEKgI64HulEc4BN5h11Y4uLsGJTXLiZxNFkLuZgiEUIRLa5NkxleiyeHzMwA-3kl_Ic1X36jWM-E61w95m9WJXVypqOP6OOFHPBjaLdXlJHfm8-3vbEWqhlVdRTZsMxI0bsHPLWB77P-GgXbzHu8XykUXPXhmp_GR4Vo/s320/unnamed%20(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nicci Gerrard, Ruthie Henshall & Wendy Mitchell<br />March 9th 2022 </i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>For as long as my memory serves, I will remember watching her
sitting in the front row of that committee room, tapping busily on her trusty iPad, determined to record all that was happening around her and to feel confident
giving her own experience and opinion when she was asked. Which she did, of
course. Wendy, living with an incurable, progressive brain disease was one of
the clearest thinking people I have ever met. This is not entirely unusual in
people living with dementia who are being forced to come to terms with the
working (or non-working) of their own brains in ways many of us find hard to
imagine. </div><div><br /><div>For as long as I am able, I won't forget sitting in a taxi with the dementia campaigner Theresa Clarke who also lived with dementia but had travelled alone from Northern Ireland to speak at the John's Campaign conference in London 2016. She told me about the days when her brain felt like soft mud and there was nothing she could do. But when she could speak out, she did. If you have time, listen to her <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbzA6WLX5f0&t=7s">here. </a><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Wendy, like Theresa, lived alone and was fiercely independent. She too hated the days when her mind felt suffocated by thick impenetrable fog. Yet even on these worst days, Wendy did not wish to be cared for. It was slightly incongruous that we were asking her to speak in
support of the Care Supporter Bill, our attempt to ensure that whenever someone
who would find it hard to advocate for
themselves is in hospital or a care home – or who is frightened or confused by
their situation -- they should have the
legal right to a special friend or family member to reassure them or speak on
their behalf. Wendy was completely certain that she never wanted to become a hospital in-patient
or live in a care home. As a former NHS administrator, she spent years
organising her paper work to ensure her wishes were clear, both to paramedics,
doctors and her much-loved daughters, Sarah and Gemma, should the time come
when she could not articulate them herself. Her refusal was definite.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYJpT2-Q3SSgmzjfeFxbrMM1L1x0I15S-XOS2z6JfG67yCoMMGpeyXUphbLxk6tYnR2slia_lZpjP5dDkTtc1ldIto21eXpaa9MEVx9wpXd1iKXCMjWllOSeCYr2YL3HfKuH-y_9a8rTpiYJugIE3-t5SZ0djfiFqOJ-Q67m4B4b7PR3iTgOqqckh94Dq/s640/sarah-and-wendy-mitchell.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="477" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOYJpT2-Q3SSgmzjfeFxbrMM1L1x0I15S-XOS2z6JfG67yCoMMGpeyXUphbLxk6tYnR2slia_lZpjP5dDkTtc1ldIto21eXpaa9MEVx9wpXd1iKXCMjWllOSeCYr2YL3HfKuH-y_9a8rTpiYJugIE3-t5SZ0djfiFqOJ-Q67m4B4b7PR3iTgOqqckh94Dq/s320/sarah-and-wendy-mitchell.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah & Wendy</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wendy told MPs why she supported our campaign. Firstly
because if she were attending an outpatient appointment, her daughter (a nurse) would remember advice she was given, previous
medications or allergies, better than she did – and also because the support of
her daughter would help show that she mattered. She told MPs a recent
experience. She had fallen and dislocated her wrist badly. It had been treated
in A&E and then she was summoned to see a consultant.</span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">His first words
were ‘on paper you don’t need an operation as it says you have dementia, what
do you need a left hand for?’ I was stunned into silence unable to find the
right words, so shocked was I at was he was saying. But luckily Sarah was with
me under John’s Campaign once more, and told him, then I found my words and
said I needed a left hand just as much as he did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://johnscampaign.org.uk/post/first-hand-experience">https://johnscampaign.org.uk/post/first-hand-experience</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a collective
gasp from people in the room, MPs included but I don’t really know why they should
have been surprised. This was March 2022 we had been enduring two years of
pandemic restrictions, particularly harmful to people living with disabilities
such as dementia and it should have been clear to the smuggest legislator that
the lives and deaths and individual CHOICES of people with dementia or other
disability were of very little importance when it came to policy-making. </span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m
currently participating in Module 2b, the Welsh section of the Inquiry and find
myself routinely amazed by the absence of active consideration of the needs of
people with dementia or other disability. People known to be at the greatest
risk, people who were loved, people whose well-being should have been at the
heart of policy discussion are simply not there when the evidence is
scrutinised. 68% of all deaths in Wales from Covid-19 in the first months of
the pandemic were deaths of people with disabilities, including dementia. Dementia remained the biggest
killer of women throughout the pandemic as it is today. Many of those
early deaths were not even properly recorded as care homes struggled to cope. GPs
and other health professionals would not visit. Hospital admissions for people living
in care homes were not facilitated. Husbands and wives, children and parents,
dearest friends and loving partners were separated as if at the gate of the
harshest Victorian workhouse. Sometimes the dying were offered only paracetamol. They didn't matter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Many (probably most)
people who live with dementia to the end, finally live and die in care homes. My
mother did and I’ve written elsewhere that I believe her death was as good as
it could be. Currently John’s Campaign are supporting the magazine <i>Care Talk</i>
in its inaugural <a href="https://www.palliativecareawards.co.uk/award-categories/">palliative care awards</a>, an attempt to celebrate excellence in
the last months of life be it at home, care home, hospice or hospital. A good
death is something that must concern us all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-size: 11pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmDbrFR-bCrcPpeKXzIvXBEBB_hRAGsk5ZVWmMIZtezWdYlHqbMWoInKW0zevtQwOLYqu2LHSyk5dvKEiX9188Rb4TJIsnNFP98Vn12uEECUWu9pyZgaEZVqKrnqFvthnJ1GniohyphenhyphenYO_H20sUp3YL1_DY6ZtcUE4ptPwI6J8T03AffuN3LLq1jUfa9lbU/s2628/IMG_20240308_0002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2628" data-original-width="1655" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPmDbrFR-bCrcPpeKXzIvXBEBB_hRAGsk5ZVWmMIZtezWdYlHqbMWoInKW0zevtQwOLYqu2LHSyk5dvKEiX9188Rb4TJIsnNFP98Vn12uEECUWu9pyZgaEZVqKrnqFvthnJ1GniohyphenhyphenYO_H20sUp3YL1_DY6ZtcUE4ptPwI6J8T03AffuN3LLq1jUfa9lbU/s320/IMG_20240308_0002.jpg" width="202" /></a></div><br /><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-family: inherit;">Wendy was not going into a care home, neither was she going to be dependent on the
daughters she loved, nor would she allow her enemy, dementia, to claim ultimate victory by killing her. Her
final book </span><i style="color: #0a0a0a; font-family: inherit;">One Last Thing</i><span style="color: #0a0a0a; font-family: inherit;"> (written with Anna Wharton) sets out her arguments
for death to be at the time of her own choice, for assisted dying to be legal
in this country. Her argument was that the availability of help to die would
allow people with incurable illness, like dementia, to live longer and better,
knowing that when they had finally had enough of life, they could be helped to leave.</span></p><p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In February this
year, Wendy Mitchell starved herself to death. It's called Voluntary Stopping Eating and Drinking (VSED) and is legal. Now I'll hand over to her to
explain what she did and why. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0a0a0a;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://whichmeamitoday.wordpress.com/2024/02/22/my-final-hug-in-a-mug/">https://whichmeamitoday.wordpress.com/2024/02/22/my-final-hug-in-a-mug/</a></span></span></p></div></div>julia joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09773900100240758504noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-19711810495253538942024-03-08T00:00:00.010+00:002024-03-08T00:00:00.464+00:00Trigger Warnings by Neil McGowan<p>The main topic of discussion in my house these past few weeks (at,
least, in terms of book-related) has been trigger warnings, and
whether they’re a good thing.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’ve never paid
much attention to them, viewing them (rather cynically) as a
marketing strategy – I’m reminded of when I was a teenager and a
sure-fire way to guarantee a record would sell was to plaster it with
stickers spouting text such as ‘Warning: contains explicit lyrics’
and similar. Of course, this all-but-guaranteed people would buy the
records, because, well, forbidden…</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’m aware there’s
been a growing discourse on whether books should contain them,
although I’ve not been following it as such – my social media
presence is minimal to say the least, so most of what I hear is
second-hand information.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">In my day job, I
teach IT systems to healthcare professionals, and part of my remit is
to look after mental health nurses. We often chat with them outside
of training (and they’re a wonderful resource for a writer, but I
digress) so we can keep up with the latest practices and how they may
translate to their IT requirements. As a writer and reader, I was,
therefore, very interested when there was a discussion between some
therapists about the hospital library.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Some background: I’m
based in a mental health hospital in Edinburgh, and it operates a
community library. Staff, visitors, volunteers, anyone can bring in
books to add to the library – I’ve donated a few myself. This
leads to a wonderfully eclectic mix of genres and titles for staff
and patients to borrow.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Under discussion was
whether certain types of books should be restricted or monitored, and
this is where the subject of trigger warnings came up. Should books
have warnings if they contain graphic or upsetting descriptions of
violence, was the question.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’m very much
against this normally, being of the opinion that if you pick up a
book that belongs to the horror genre there is a fairly high chance
that one or more of the characters is going to meet a rather
unpleasant end. Similarly with crime. I figure it’s kind of
essential that something unpleasant happens. The reader would know to
expect it, right? If the thought of literary descriptions of blood
and gore is not something that appeals to you, then you’d not read
that genre. I’m not interested in sport, so I’d not choose to
read a book on, say, football, for those same reasons.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">My other issue is
spoilers – a trigger warning plastered on a book by its very nature
will give some indication of something that happens in the story. To
me, this takes away some of the surprise and pleasure, as you’re
expecting something to happen at some point and often try to
second-guess it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">The main issue for
me, though, is where do you draw the line? When does a text require a
warning, and at what point does the text cross the line from being
fine, to needing a warning? Some texts will be easy to identify as
potentially triggering (Richard Laymon, for example, mostly wrote
fairly graphic body horror) but my issue is where things are not as
clear-cut. Stephen King’s Delores Claibourne, for example, features
virtually no violence as such – most of it takes place off the
page, with the narrative covering the aftermath more than the event.
Yet it deals with issues of domestic violence, and for a victim of
such, such a book could have a very different impact.</p>
<p style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ultimately, I’ve
come to think the responsibility rests with the author. If I write
something which I suspect could have an adverse impact on a specific
group of people, then I’d want the option to add some sort of
warning if I felt it necessary. But would I want to add warnings to
other books, based on my beliefs? No; that, for me, is too close to
censorship.</p>
<p><style type="text/css">p { line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.25cm; background: transparent }</style></p>Neil McGowanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07659530366368020908noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-9147137113366092262024-03-07T08:30:00.016+00:002024-03-07T08:30:00.252+00:00March Update! by Joy Kluver<p> Well, I say March update - really it's all about February as March has only just started. </p><p>My beta reader gave me a thumbs up for DI Bernie Noel 4 which was a huge relief. The last thing I had to do before sending it to my editor was a final read through. I did this using the Read function on Word. A fairly nice voice read out my MS to me and it was so helpful. I 'heard' the mistakes which were often small and I probably would have missed them if I'd just been reading normally. My plan was take my time with this over half-term but a couple of members of my family had other ideas. </p><p>I'm not very good with spontaneity but my husband and youngest made last minute plans to visit the Netherlands and Belgium and expected me to go to! I was still determined to finish the final read through and managed to do it just in time. It was a huge relief to send my MS off and now I'm waiting for the verdict! We had a good time away and my youngest can add the Netherlands and Belgium to his list of countries visited.</p><p>I decided to join the choir. It's lots of fun and slowly but surely, my singing voice is coming back.</p><p>Hopefully I'll have more book news for you in April. In the meantime, here are a few pictures from our quick trip away - Amsterdam, Antwerp and Bruges,</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHWUmFNpZc6kzLacI-kg1ZSzmvXmBCHRN_g73bs9mEg-NdDo90P0eNTIoo3bz5d3xPazhGYvnpX5iV_4zFRI8eR_MaI_EIA1M3u3U5qbPTF7LzRERTeK37Up1dU5XAb3creKkus1NKB2uwCo8dUatQlgN_Cvfuxn8NjkaHeuCi2_0Wqd_KNsH0AiK2r5D/s640/Amsterdam.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="481" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHWUmFNpZc6kzLacI-kg1ZSzmvXmBCHRN_g73bs9mEg-NdDo90P0eNTIoo3bz5d3xPazhGYvnpX5iV_4zFRI8eR_MaI_EIA1M3u3U5qbPTF7LzRERTeK37Up1dU5XAb3creKkus1NKB2uwCo8dUatQlgN_Cvfuxn8NjkaHeuCi2_0Wqd_KNsH0AiK2r5D/s320/Amsterdam.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgwnxCUWZUgi0eMwR-rUr_OwgH29YUhj_6UAOGpHwcuVAUNMMitNpWHlRMfSLE4TlGgt1bawnHefCt7zd9BfS66Zgn1XR1u9cjxEPQ-1QmlrSKWG_h4D1hcinQssQY69lQ3d1enyXohWaO_AXakgKNvDBRyA960q16T0GdSR2msJPY2kK8oqzBdbtBUS2/s640/Antwerp.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgwnxCUWZUgi0eMwR-rUr_OwgH29YUhj_6UAOGpHwcuVAUNMMitNpWHlRMfSLE4TlGgt1bawnHefCt7zd9BfS66Zgn1XR1u9cjxEPQ-1QmlrSKWG_h4D1hcinQssQY69lQ3d1enyXohWaO_AXakgKNvDBRyA960q16T0GdSR2msJPY2kK8oqzBdbtBUS2/s320/Antwerp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW51B7Ugf-OlycxJsWlBZtKmVAiMZP5rHDyB5B4rMwFecSsDwfVVxXnYhs6qmDbaxc0_3eB9VX-HjbLLexU_3emUk_Ej3e2VuYdpcGtBRNsDAQ_aIkavGMWqLRe5V0trS2JhM2a-eI0Mfr4YGe1q7Kg-Dcr1QqO7KTV1Xxp8jA1-aZL2GOI5mUydpyUqlY/s640/Bruges.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="640" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW51B7Ugf-OlycxJsWlBZtKmVAiMZP5rHDyB5B4rMwFecSsDwfVVxXnYhs6qmDbaxc0_3eB9VX-HjbLLexU_3emUk_Ej3e2VuYdpcGtBRNsDAQ_aIkavGMWqLRe5V0trS2JhM2a-eI0Mfr4YGe1q7Kg-Dcr1QqO7KTV1Xxp8jA1-aZL2GOI5mUydpyUqlY/s320/Bruges.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Joy Kluverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538085294161684288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-41661096594107812932024-03-05T10:00:00.000+00:002024-03-05T10:00:00.144+00:00 'Don't say anything funny' -- Cecilia Peartree<div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-size: 13px;">I recently took part in a podcast created by Ben Bruce in a new series called 'Criminally Inspired', available via Spotify but we recorded it on Zoom. We ran through more or less my entire writing career in three-quarters of an hour, trying to work out between us what my sources of inspiration were. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation, which ranged from my first 'book', written in pencil in a notebook almost as soon as I'd learnt to write, through the children's plays my son and I co-wrote for our local youth drama group, to my current relentless production line of lightweight mysteries.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWfhDdR0chKqDt98MgQITzh6GXIpCRMr4xp88mabx7qWfttRmwHtvRUG7WQaFKI-duOyirS3oGHRWjmNVgWT8YbCPClP94YK43Wv_e5HyzBzp-IUKbvT3u50T_hgIZd3qIp1aJBH67hlqL7-S6pK8BAByavtgSksmd-xk6tdsuqc5qBk7H7T7qdEa8tA/s1960/CF82_05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1960" data-original-width="1205" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWfhDdR0chKqDt98MgQITzh6GXIpCRMr4xp88mabx7qWfttRmwHtvRUG7WQaFKI-duOyirS3oGHRWjmNVgWT8YbCPClP94YK43Wv_e5HyzBzp-IUKbvT3u50T_hgIZd3qIp1aJBH67hlqL7-S6pK8BAByavtgSksmd-xk6tdsuqc5qBk7H7T7qdEa8tA/w176-h286/CF82_05.JPG" width="176" /></a></div>Once the podcast was released it took me a while to make myself listen to it, but when I did I was surprised to find how much I had laughed during the recording, particularly when I recalled some of the drama group efforts - an example being the point at which my son had to fling himself into the wings as King Neptune, do a quick change out of his blue robes and silky white (fake) beard, cast aside his trident and reappear on stage as forlorn castaway Ken Rifle. Yes, I confess it, we had freely adapted Treasure Island for that year's Christmas show.<br style="outline: none;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; outline: none;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Hearing myself laugh on the podcast reminded me how annoying some people have found me and my tendency to make fun of myself and others over the years. When I had a day job in an art gallery, it happened that some of us had to re-organise a collection of prints, drawings and photographs so that the items were easy to retrieve once stored in a hi-tech system. One of my colleagues and I were then asked to give a presentation at an international conference in </span><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;">Germany about the technology we used, our retrieval system and the history behind it, which wasn't as boring as it sounds! However the colleague had to drop out almost at the last minute so I merged the two parts of the presentation together and delivered both of them. The only piece of advice he gave me before I left for Germany was 'Don't say anything funny.'</span></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;">I felt quite indignant about this as I never actually tried to say anything funny on these occasions, though I had to admit people sometimes laughed, especially when I mentioned any problems/disasters we had experienced along the way. Anyway, this time I tried harder not to be at all amusing, particularly as there was an extremely serious speaker from the British Museum ahead of me on the programme. However, the audience laughed quite a bit, and the first person I spoke to afterwards commented,<br style="outline: none;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;">'I really enjoyed your presentation - it was so funny.'<br style="outline: none;" /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;">Hmm.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;">Incidentally, my father, a chemistry lecturer, and my brother, a museum curator, were both humorous when they spoke in public, and during my family history research I came across a reference in newspaper archives to my father's grandfather having made an 'amusing speech' to a gathering of farmers in a small town in Perthshire, so perhaps it's all in the genes and I really can't help it!</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOjxDzfv_3fW2MMX-dwLz7hWzWsPcxInhZoz24b15OqH7aea-GZ1ooDIjVvFyQiEhHDxUlPAmJ4KlBZDxKMcruAfT-bH_1rEfu1pEoSUnWlsj1HGxS9-HVSUMy_XmucpN9V6kKTcxO8OXx57WuXGN8wjTVJ7Qs9CtPbsGsyuXemI8lX_poLzUIpwcViU/s720/herzo%20august%20library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtOjxDzfv_3fW2MMX-dwLz7hWzWsPcxInhZoz24b15OqH7aea-GZ1ooDIjVvFyQiEhHDxUlPAmJ4KlBZDxKMcruAfT-bH_1rEfu1pEoSUnWlsj1HGxS9-HVSUMy_XmucpN9V6kKTcxO8OXx57WuXGN8wjTVJ7Qs9CtPbsGsyuXemI8lX_poLzUIpwcViU/w222-h166/herzo%20august%20library.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Herzog August library - our stately conference venue</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHnkQLaWd_25BV_NJZ2QCTrcVvqGIz7XLroY0obxJC6eWSORgV0pauw0XAUgBOgTui-Mj6WV4_rtesfk-Xi6BhWHxC86SSHrtp0jFoibWTZihmaayZPcwamvKpvJCG8bHAT9-cAfQcvUEssC4RxC3RyiLrT6dYOvVBpa5QZqezYv0-tbgeYpWihBajzU/s720/wolf%20of%20wolfenbuttel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHnkQLaWd_25BV_NJZ2QCTrcVvqGIz7XLroY0obxJC6eWSORgV0pauw0XAUgBOgTui-Mj6WV4_rtesfk-Xi6BhWHxC86SSHrtp0jFoibWTZihmaayZPcwamvKpvJCG8bHAT9-cAfQcvUEssC4RxC3RyiLrT6dYOvVBpa5QZqezYv0-tbgeYpWihBajzU/s320/wolf%20of%20wolfenbuttel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wolf of Wolfenbüttel</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Cecilia Peartreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16212743025054798695noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-49029538021569463642024-03-04T00:00:00.003+00:002024-03-05T10:04:50.620+00:00Poetic Licence - Sarah Nicholson<p>March must be the month for poetry as I see <a href="https://authorselectric.blogspot.com/2024/03/the-companionship-of-books-about-poetry.html" target="_blank">Peter Leyland posted something About Poetry</a> on Saturday, I do hope you will allow me to add my own thoughts and memories...</p><p><br /></p><p>Poetry can take many forms from sonnets to Limericks, Haiku
to Villanelle (OK I confess I’m not really sure of the structure for a
Villanelle – didn’t she want to kill Eve?}</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I digress, and<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I might meander even
more<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">as I write this in a lyrical
style<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">as poems are often
written<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Hmm I wonder what actually
constitutes a poem? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m loathed to look up a definition, Google will
undoubtedly bamboozle me. Poems can be highbrow and esoteric or about the
mundane and everyday – I wrote one once about belly button fluff – more about that later…<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I started writing poetry early
and here’s one of my early efforts from primary school.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmX8aszsdLP_4U2mCdY0_f2227sRbdclfoxeJ79ZwhvDVrFhniIBbQg8QDhLEZDrpDJz-7y4-DJ19TtHfx7S7Le_fdWfXiQeiVC5qTheW67YjFRjiPymvkSXe8uMYjkzjLDnFLWx_ojMb3RhvkzCpytA2Wq22BHHxBoo-P6g_IeSc4k9QKBtCumag8KI/s2679/20240302_151226.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2679" data-original-width="2084" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmX8aszsdLP_4U2mCdY0_f2227sRbdclfoxeJ79ZwhvDVrFhniIBbQg8QDhLEZDrpDJz-7y4-DJ19TtHfx7S7Le_fdWfXiQeiVC5qTheW67YjFRjiPymvkSXe8uMYjkzjLDnFLWx_ojMb3RhvkzCpytA2Wq22BHHxBoo-P6g_IeSc4k9QKBtCumag8KI/s320/20240302_151226.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I also remember writing one at
BIG school about a dolls house, I vividly recall reading it out in class, it
had a repeated refrain which everyone joined in with. I was in year 7, or first year as we called it in those days.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Sadly that poem is lost in time,
as are all the other poems written during puberty. I do wonder how many of us have
poured our hearts out on the page in our teenage years as a way of expressing
our angst at the unfairness of the world?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As for reading poems, our local newsagents
used to sell slim volumes of Patience Strong verse that I could afford with my
pocket money. I didn’t find them saccharine sweet at the time but rather wistful.
For balance on my bookshelf I had a copy of Spike Milligan’s Silly Verse for
Kids and a rather nice anthology which featured The Swing by Robert Louis Stephenson,
I learnt it by heart.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4Sd_c_HSeY3Bo451H0w6C4CjUgbasi8kn9pGSFVhmlzYMq_2Ygxenw_tnjR7YERCpA88wJ9nVgB3kMl5CdtAjUEhpS9Rb_VZX7Eb94CD3gyckvYoJshkA2n0mbVscwt8DXaXVg-07HwpH_s6nRY-zqxLa0xHrc6iQgXlvvTCM9Zqal4puwVnVXiEiRM/s1038/Screenshot_20240302_155638_Samsung%20Internet.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="633" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4Sd_c_HSeY3Bo451H0w6C4CjUgbasi8kn9pGSFVhmlzYMq_2Ygxenw_tnjR7YERCpA88wJ9nVgB3kMl5CdtAjUEhpS9Rb_VZX7Eb94CD3gyckvYoJshkA2n0mbVscwt8DXaXVg-07HwpH_s6nRY-zqxLa0xHrc6iQgXlvvTCM9Zqal4puwVnVXiEiRM/w244-h400/Screenshot_20240302_155638_Samsung%20Internet.jpg" width="244" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I did A level English literature
and we studied Gerard Manley Hopkins and Robert Browning. My friends and I decided
Hopkins wasn’t very manly and his poems were dull. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Nowadays I have a real
appreciation of his lyricism, I enjoy the majesty of his writing and if I see a
row of trees, be they poplars or not, I think of his poem Binsey Poplars, which
is odd because I’ve just re-read it and it's about trees that have been felled. Maybe
I never fully listened in the lesson. Or maybe it was another poem entirely.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Meanwhile Browning’s poetry has often
hit the spot, especially his shorter works, some of the long ones go on and on
- I’m sure Bishop Blougram is still apologising somewhere.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My favourite Browning poem is A
Toccata of Galuppi, I admit my understanding of it is sketchy but the rhythm is
so musical, it gallops along,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 72pt; text-align: justify;">The soul, doubtless,
is immortal–<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 72pt; text-align: justify;">where a soul
can be discerned.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps I should have it read at
my funeral?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Which reminds me I wrote a poem
when my mother-in-law died which I read at her wake all about the food she had
fed us over the years. From lemon meringue to cheese flan she was a marvellous baker.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Death certainly provides a rich
seam of inspiration; I wrote many poems after my husband died to help untangle
my emotions.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One of them Goldilocks and the
Three Brothers, can be found in a recently published anthology put together by
the Suffolk Writers Group. Alongside the bellybutton fluff poem, I wanted to
show my range.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_C231YKVq_Hbw-VeOZH-U6PQqquVJ7JwJMm7q9FnLY1t1hZtgRnvVDg1K4EYjFlIIBgCufjR7MazU5Qd3kzyXqzD_lJElxsBcbVfuogMNvfD2ARiylssIcXlLG05HlI7vrorfqc6pD408HT0wpQFAbtTr3JDw47Rbiu0G5z8JsZL0JF3IRkWmYmkKALU" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_C231YKVq_Hbw-VeOZH-U6PQqquVJ7JwJMm7q9FnLY1t1hZtgRnvVDg1K4EYjFlIIBgCufjR7MazU5Qd3kzyXqzD_lJElxsBcbVfuogMNvfD2ARiylssIcXlLG05HlI7vrorfqc6pD408HT0wpQFAbtTr3JDw47Rbiu0G5z8JsZL0JF3IRkWmYmkKALU=w256-h320" width="256" /></a></div><br />The Tapestry of Poetry is a most beautiful
book which made excellent Christmas presents. Of course, I have my own copy and
it sits snuggly on my shelf with my growing collection of books and pamphlets
by poets that I know and have the privilege to call my friends.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhyphenhyphenseRqurrxHMS9jnttXgGO_iNi0zDnK2qynqFpLe2twOZizGhNECugZlI9SBFgoVYojejuOXXK2qp-aoKuwRk_CFEtSQBIipVzB8_C9ezjdS9LwqGQtWHlSwLwabCMnxQwWA9NePNO62dSu5AuZmhO8WGKGpwldcyVAHhoKLZ2BQaLq96GXkHIWOdRo/s2722/20240302_152725.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="2722" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhyphenhyphenseRqurrxHMS9jnttXgGO_iNi0zDnK2qynqFpLe2twOZizGhNECugZlI9SBFgoVYojejuOXXK2qp-aoKuwRk_CFEtSQBIipVzB8_C9ezjdS9LwqGQtWHlSwLwabCMnxQwWA9NePNO62dSu5AuZmhO8WGKGpwldcyVAHhoKLZ2BQaLq96GXkHIWOdRo/w400-h306/20240302_152725.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Flicking through the books now I
discover funny poems that make me laugh, rants that make my blood boil. Some
are about real people in history, adding a new perspective. There are words
which express aching grief, and words documenting love - both real and imagined.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Poems can really be
about ANYTHING.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">They can rhyme or
not,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">be sometimes short, pithy
and to the point <o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">or long.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Some can be
subversive <span face=""Segoe UI Emoji",sans-serif" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol-ext; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji";">😉</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Do you have a
favourite?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Ones written by your own hand</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">locked away in a drawer,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">or something learned
at school that you still remember -<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">years later.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Add comments below <o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Like<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Subscribe<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">etc. etc.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And thank you for indulging my whimsical look back at poems
I love and remember, I hope it’s sparked something, maybe inspiration enough to
go away and write your own poetic masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07953334708365738152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-91938538213308518152024-03-03T04:56:00.008+00:002024-03-04T12:06:00.879+00:00Brain on a Train -- Umberto Tosi<p><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLnE-XpJ8WMRp4Gh4JEl2TZfsNPagWXahLIyasSuyyovwzEx5qPMAW1V6b60smD6rS3BBsDLII1OzO7stJbobhsiNU89ysQRM8oic0zn6eLVAE0PYkSVdltTCTPVX1AI-Q8Z2QMiPCBnrz4G6T6WUBWFiKv8hUYz-bpv8pNM4IBiUG9BQFSvqpSJEoOQ/s1120/GreatRailwaBazaar-cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLnE-XpJ8WMRp4Gh4JEl2TZfsNPagWXahLIyasSuyyovwzEx5qPMAW1V6b60smD6rS3BBsDLII1OzO7stJbobhsiNU89ysQRM8oic0zn6eLVAE0PYkSVdltTCTPVX1AI-Q8Z2QMiPCBnrz4G6T6WUBWFiKv8hUYz-bpv8pNM4IBiUG9BQFSvqpSJEoOQ/s320/GreatRailwaBazaar-cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">"I have seldom heard a train go by and not wished I was on it," wrote Paul Theroux welcoming us succinctly aboard </span><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Great_Railway_Bazaar" title="The Great Railway Bazaar">The Great Railway Bazaa</a>r.</i></span></span> </span><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">"Trains sing bewitchment," Theroux added at the start of a four-month rail journey from London through Europe, the Middle East, the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia, returning via the Trans-Siberian Railway. His 1975 armchair classic depicts people, history, and cultures, more than trains and never complains about difficult accommodations. "If a train is large and comfortable you don't even need a destination."</span><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> ...I concur. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">I've set a few of my stories on trains, including <i>Onion Station</i> (published in <i>Chicago Quarterly Review</i> and in my anthology, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sometimes-Ridiculous-Umberto-Tosi/dp/1720447896/ref=sr_1_1?crid=5XT0X0NVBTLH&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.GM0rkXzBc9dHdB0x23qnbYbidjiKbxdTogufND-vO78b0bNU0Kj0pWkqcHd1YQww9VKVYZ6f_bobuLi2YqzFidddxg0rJCJKsi5t8yYzOvZk3PaFEkxkRabD3OmRpLg8hXTy55WnRrJBy5yzzeqsY0BOSIX78XTZUbdA2cP9qFmjc062OZKXTIrWaEKDw5ZPgTTJoSRPy9Qy77d_aGT_UUWE2sD75WzxNS9y9sTBBZI.4DqFv8D06rIVtiLA_l8eO5VbALLMOQfYAxOsLHjniKY&dib_tag=se&keywords=Sometimes+Ridiculous&qid=1709353834&s=books&sprefix=sometimes+ridiculous%2Cstripbooks%2C91&sr=1-1" target="_blank"><i>Sometimes Ridiculous</i></a>). The tale is told from the perspective of a boy on a 1940s transcontinental train trip stopover with his warring mother and father in Chicago. It's taken from life -- an episode in a forthcoming novella largely set on rocking railway sleeping cars. </span></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWWpTQdEncpEnJUgmXTLyKMxkmMhRFYkePFPDf9Z0y6UaEXWryi5nPie3IwO6NqBJCls9kswoc0O0B10imyDCu_Kd9P6-bwxkHjl5HrgoNjTfGnN-5U8l831OPpgT9MOgRpAaOsIMT2snp1cY1wYoXdQdwkomKJjQB8aaoZbXYJTTGFcYnT9AmNuxywM/s1920/Eleanor_UT_Springfield_Train_trip_26Oct2019.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWWpTQdEncpEnJUgmXTLyKMxkmMhRFYkePFPDf9Z0y6UaEXWryi5nPie3IwO6NqBJCls9kswoc0O0B10imyDCu_Kd9P6-bwxkHjl5HrgoNjTfGnN-5U8l831OPpgT9MOgRpAaOsIMT2snp1cY1wYoXdQdwkomKJjQB8aaoZbXYJTTGFcYnT9AmNuxywM/s320/Eleanor_UT_Springfield_Train_trip_26Oct2019.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Eleanor and I on a Chicago-Springfield train, 2017</i><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>I grew up in California with battling parents - later a single mother - during the mid and late 1940s. They considered themselves Bostonian exiles on the West Coast due to the war's exigencies. We came to California by auto in 1943 on proverbial Route 66, an adventure that <a href="https://authorselectric.blogspot.com/2016/11/kicks-on-route-66-umberto-tosi.html" target="_blank">I chronicled here in a 2016 post</a>. For the next decade, we travelled California to Massachusetts by train twice a year, once at Christmas time and again in August on Pullman sleeping cars. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oYxiCtUz9rZxpvH0lLnMUIVZMgBGsQBKMVD1oV0tIGAO2t-EjwfWUm560TARRuWi3nIiNJVhiuvdbTRcwvJDIVfq4tnMoLBbF9x3AyqaL-V3zKvTY7PIhZJ_bYSkuqOxiGrEM1VaMNYLSgx4n_3YtVb7IxCzTkS8bnzO-jaU38HkWTL1vwxVpkEFcQk/s1500/Silver-Streak-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3oYxiCtUz9rZxpvH0lLnMUIVZMgBGsQBKMVD1oV0tIGAO2t-EjwfWUm560TARRuWi3nIiNJVhiuvdbTRcwvJDIVfq4tnMoLBbF9x3AyqaL-V3zKvTY7PIhZJ_bYSkuqOxiGrEM1VaMNYLSgx4n_3YtVb7IxCzTkS8bnzO-jaU38HkWTL1vwxVpkEFcQk/s320/Silver-Streak-poster.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>I would run wild the length of each train for three days with a coterie of other junior escapees on the loose from distracted parents. I would sleep in upper bunks -- among my most treasured memories, sensing the pulsating pull of giant steam locomotives. These sleek trains were the last of their kind unbeknownst by us. It was a golden age of passenger trains -- of sleek twenty-car-long behemoths - when they had become deco art as well as our primary means of travel.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">Then I took to air travel with a few memorable exceptions. My latest: a two-day trip aboard <i><a href="https://amtrakguide.com/routes/southwest-chief/" target="_blank">AMTRAK's Southwest Chief</a></i>, through fantastical high plateau bluffs from Chicago to New Mexico with my inamorata, <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleanor_Spiess-Ferris" target="_blank">Eleanor Spiess-Ferris</a></i> on a family memorial visit. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNxMiEd3__jbu7NTyguFO4qfpGimGY3vPtoZ4aRVwkrntka8fLz3bQqFKniD7b2Li9-hg7KTJq2PyNu84zbQjJGTsGUxnReBB2jxQnD0FumnJ4l-uGaQwKJgvc1dKN_H3hX_BIecydsCuLFOTVT0Lbg4nel3apllLpbo099FUS1zsMm8Hs6vPGXAPO-w/s1024/Daylight_San_Joaquin_train.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="1024" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNxMiEd3__jbu7NTyguFO4qfpGimGY3vPtoZ4aRVwkrntka8fLz3bQqFKniD7b2Li9-hg7KTJq2PyNu84zbQjJGTsGUxnReBB2jxQnD0FumnJ4l-uGaQwKJgvc1dKN_H3hX_BIecydsCuLFOTVT0Lbg4nel3apllLpbo099FUS1zsMm8Hs6vPGXAPO-w/w303-h201/Daylight_San_Joaquin_train.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'<i>The SP Daylight', a long-gone steamer I rode often</i>.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>These days I ride trains mostly in my imagination. But I keep a bucket list. It's my obsession. If I had the energy and the money, I'd cross continents a few more times by sleeper, through the Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada from Chicago to San Francisco on the <i><a href="https://amtrakguide.com/routes/california-zephyr/" target="_blank">California Zephyr</a></i>, then take a four-night sleeper through the spectacular Canadian wilderness from <i><a href="https://www.vacationsbyrail.com/destinations/canada/trans-canada/?TelRef=V_MSN_CAN&utm_id=396555322&gclsrc=ms.ds&network=s&msclkid=883698f7025d1c8b0de1fd15aa9a13ff&utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=Canada%20-%20General_%5BCAN%5D&utm_term=via%20rail%20toronto%20to%20vancouver&utm_content=KeyWord%3A%20Canada%20By%20Rail" target="_blank">Toronto to Vancouver</a></i> on VIA. Then on to Asia and Europe, then New Zealand and Australia.</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">I'd get a compartment and write on the move, like Gene Wilder's character intends before hell breaks loose in Arthur Hiller's hilarious thriller <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Streak_(film)" target="_blank">Silver Streak</a>.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">Like many, I love stories, books and movies set on trains -- <i>The Lady Vanishes, Shanghai Express, Night Train, the Sleeping Car Murders, Girl on the Train, Snowpiercer,</i> and of course, <i>Murder on the Orient Express</i> (in its various incarnations) to name a few. Which are your favourites?<br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;">Meanwhile I have my fantasies. I collect passenger train simulations on You Tube that I can run for hours, nonstop, sound off while I sleep. I gaze at the scenery from my Orient Express, or <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_Scotsman_(railway_service)" target="_blank">Flying Scotsman</a>, or <a href="https://www.luxurytrainclub.com/trains/seven-stars-kyushu/" target="_blank">Seven Star Kyushu</a> windows and domes. I enjoy gourmet meals and meet new people in the dining car. And maybe my detective Frank Ritz will have a train murder to solve.</span> </h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><div class="post-header"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3ERhz29Nj70" width="320" youtube-src-id="3ERhz29Nj70"></iframe></div></span></div><div class="post-header-line-1"><span class="byline post-timestamp"><time class="published" datetime="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z" title="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z"> </time></span></div><div class="post-header-line-1"><span class="byline post-timestamp"><time class="published" datetime="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z" title="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z"> </time></span><time class="published" datetime="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z" title="2016-11-03T00:00:00Z"></time><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: times;">==========================================</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiPpMSZZHqgyFRqnrphgbHT8zizJoofzJSaXI5254LNUUZBawLgTFv2fWsAc1FsXr4d-fJv2tY9r7Fph30TtYzMXuEFzdGdO2HATPiOitFY2RJ7WIWQHsGkpwRCvW84cMT37qIjForwAS7Llm4G4urdFkR1IvDKpl5IMt3uBYMR6j7yLpriQUCT_PB1E/s1024/UT_bio-pix__CelticKnot_2016.CQR-reading45.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZiPpMSZZHqgyFRqnrphgbHT8zizJoofzJSaXI5254LNUUZBawLgTFv2fWsAc1FsXr4d-fJv2tY9r7Fph30TtYzMXuEFzdGdO2HATPiOitFY2RJ7WIWQHsGkpwRCvW84cMT37qIjForwAS7Llm4G4urdFkR1IvDKpl5IMt3uBYMR6j7yLpriQUCT_PB1E/s320/UT_bio-pix__CelticKnot_2016.CQR-reading45.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Umberto Tosi's novels include his highly praised, Frank Ritz, Hollywood noir detective mysteries <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Phantom-Eye-Frank-Ritz-Mystery/dp/B096TJNJFK/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank">The Phantom Eye</a></i>, and <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Oddly-Dead-Count-Ways-Mystery-ebook/dp/B09TWV7NH4?ref_=ast_author_dp" target="_blank">Oddly Dead</a></i> plus his story collection, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sometimes-Ridiculous-Umberto-Tosi-ebook/dp/B07K5JVBXR?ref_=ast_author_dp" target="_blank"><i>Sometimes Ridiculous</i></a>. His epic novel <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ophelia-Rising-know-what-are-ebook/dp/B075C429GP?ref_=ast_author_dp" target="_blank">Ophelia Rising</a></i> continues to earn kudos as does his holiday novella, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Milagro-34th-Street-Compassion-Cookies-ebook/dp/B002Z7ES0E?ref_=ast_author_dp" target="_blank">Milagro on 34th Street</a>. </span></span></span></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"><span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-family: times;">His nonfiction books include <i>High Treason</i> (with Vladimir Sakarov, Ballentine/Putnam), and <i>Sports Psyching </i>(with Thomas Tutko, JP Tarcher). His short stories have appeared in <i><a href="https://catamaranliteraryreader.com/" target="_blank">Catamaran Literary Reader</a></i> and <i><a href="http://www.chicagoquarterlyreview.com/" target="_blank">Chicago Quarterly Review</a></i>
where he is a contributing editor. His stories, essays and articles
have been published widely in print and online since the 1960s.</span></span></span></span></span></span></h3>
</div>
</div></span></h3>Umberto Tosihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04939504157464234443noreply@blogger.com4Greenwich, London, UK51.4933675 0.009821423.183133663821152 -35.1464286 79.803601336178843 35.1660714tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-22831288505539835482024-03-02T00:00:00.000+00:002024-03-02T00:00:00.139+00:00The Companionship of Books: About Poetry by Peter Leyland<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguj6zCt87Lm6qU52in0FPWZBeUs4BDIZsQx2YMi0XGIClLNHAHdSythhedMT1dzKMor0AJ_4ls3yPGmJkx82NqVo8_qMbr81DO1QDOJzmuePHBSZXrC6ZV4UttOpT4PpkH3Q2sXPZ8SDir_ABEjfR9teCUyOIAvqG5Benh8hAE96WBfit1raW84bUeRTfY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguj6zCt87Lm6qU52in0FPWZBeUs4BDIZsQx2YMi0XGIClLNHAHdSythhedMT1dzKMor0AJ_4ls3yPGmJkx82NqVo8_qMbr81DO1QDOJzmuePHBSZXrC6ZV4UttOpT4PpkH3Q2sXPZ8SDir_ABEjfR9teCUyOIAvqG5Benh8hAE96WBfit1raW84bUeRTfY=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b>The Companionship of Books: About Poetry*</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">This chapter is all about poetry+. It begins with my stay in Broad Green Hospital when I was sixteen for an operation on a torn cartilage. I had been attempting a descent from the wall bars during a school gym lesson and had landed awkwardly, so awkwardly in fact that every time I tried to run for the morning bus my knee would lock into a fixed position and necessitate a system of contortions on the ground in order to free it. Mr Almond, who saw me in Rodney Street, just around the corner from The Liverpool Institute, took one examination and immediately booked me into Broad Green for the operation.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I arrived there to find myself in a ward full of men with their legs either covered in bandages or underneath raised frames, which allowed their legs to rest underneath, without the pressure of the bedclothes. On the ward I met Alan who was a trainee teacher. We were in adjacent beds and he talked to me about novels and poetry, particularly that of Dylan Thomas and T.S. Eliot and it is to him that I owe my early love of poetry.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">I was so enraptured by his descriptions of those poets that when I left hospital, for my next birthday present I asked for Thomas’s collected poems and my J.M. Dent copy, <i>Collected Poems 1934-1952</i> has my favourites underlined. One of these was ONCE IT WAS THE COLOUR OF SAYING: The Aberfan disaster had occurred in October 1966 shortly after I left hospital, and although the poem had no connection at all to the disaster, the lines ‘with a capsized field where a school sat still’, gave me a language through which I could share an incoherent compassion for what had happened. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Following the operation, which was successful I was able to resume my morning milk round, often resulting in frozen fingers, which took place before school. Once, gazing sleepily at a blackboard in a General Studies lesson, an idea took shape, and I began to write my own poetry. I had been struck by Thomas’s <b>“Vision and Prayer”</b>, and its diamond and hour-glass construction and I wrote my own diamond-shaped poem called “Liverpool 8” **, about the area surrounding the school. It begins with the lines, ‘Sun/Once picked/Its ray through/The smoke aged air’, and depicts the relative poverty which surrounded The Institute at the time. The Anglican cathedral, still unfinished, which dominated the skyline is referred to as ‘the half cathedral’, in the middle of the poem. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">“Liverpool 8” was picked up by Mr Toobe who had replaced Alan Durband as Head of English and published in the school magazine which had been renamed <i>Elan</i>. Alan Durband was a mentor to Paul McCartney and is credited by him in his book of Lyrics. Paul says that Alan Durband inspired his love of reading: ‘It opened things up for me so much, that I came to live for a while in a fantasy world drawn from books.' This had echoes for me during my time at his <i>alma mater</i>. I did not reach the heights of Paul McCartney in my poetry of the time, but “Liverpool 8” was later re-published in a local poetry magazine called <i>Honesty</i>. I didn’t see a copy of this but was told about it by a girlfriend, Sue, who I think still has it. It was she who sent me a photo of a group that formed during the sixties when Liverpool was in a reported phrase by poet, Allen Ginsburg, ‘the centre of the conscious universe’. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;">This group was a bunch of would-be poets, musicians and artists who formed as a result of a meeting of school sixth forms at The Liverpool Philharmonic Hall to watch a showing of <i>The War Game</i> in 1967. This was a pseudo-documentary film where a nuclear war is triggered by China’s invasion of South Vietnam and presumably the idea was to sensitize us to the prospects of imminent annihilation. In the film the invasion of South Vietnam is followed by an incursion into West Berlin by Russian and East German forces. Events spiral out of control, there is a thermonuclear explosion in the South East of England and the film depicts the horrific consequences. It uses a voiceover narration to show the events that would happen as a result of a nuclear strike - the effect on the civilian population, the terror, panic and results of radiation. It shows people looting and killing each other in the search for food supplies as resources dwindle. The film ends in a refugee compound in Dover on the first Christmas since the war, where wounded and bewildered civilians are shown in various stages of recovery.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">At the end of the showing folk music was played. The iconic Liverpool band, The Spinners, played gently soothing music that was needed to restore us sixth formers from the scenes of devastation witnessed on the screen. After this the girls and boys from The Liverpool Institute, Hillfoot Hay and La Sagesse were then able to mingle and talk to each other, and for some like me it was one of the first opportunities they had had to talk to the opposite sex about anything meaningful. It resulted in meetings and liaisons and out of this grew ‘the gang’. In my inventive mind I modelled us on The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, a group of poets and artists who lived in the middle of the Nineteenth Century for we visited The Walker Art Gallery, The Manchester City Art Gallery and The Lady Lever Gallery in Port Sunlight – all containing Pre-Raphaelite paintings. There was poetry too. At the time there was a black and white television documentary which showed Dante Gabriel Rossetti digging up the poems that he had buried with his dead wife, Elizabeth Siddall. A more recent TV drama about The Brotherhood was no less exciting but less macabre. The series reminded me of a photograph taken in 1971 outside the Palm House in Sefton Park, Liverpool. There are twelve of us. Most are seemingly unaware that their picture is being taken.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">It is a poetic image and poetry was all about us at the time. Roger McGough led the way with <i>Let Me Die a Youngman’s Death</i> in 1967 and he was joined by Brian Patten and Adrian Henri at readings in O’Connors Tavern around the corner from The Institute, where in a room above the bar they gave us the poems which would be collected into a book called <i>The Mersey Sound</i>, one of the largest selling poetry books ever produced. I have followed Roger McGough through the years and attended his readings in a number of places, notable among which are Bedford College of H.E.; The Everyman Theatre, where 40 years since the book’s publication was celebrated; and most recently in Buckingham where I live now. Following the Everyman Theatre celebration Roger and Brian Pattern turned up at breakfast at The Hope Street Hotel where I was staying. After doing a double-take I retrieved my copy of the book from my room and got them to sign it. There were only two of them there, Adrian Henri having died in 2000. After Roger’s reading in Buckingham, I managed to speak to him and I said, "Not like O’Connors then?" And he told me that now it was a Chinese Restaurant. The most significant exchange, however, came after the earlier Bedford reading. Still hopeful of becoming a poet myself, I asked for his advice: “Go on an Arvon Course,” is what he had said to me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"> *<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Arvon poetry courses are wonderful events during which to meet people, evaluate one’s life and even produce some poetry. At the time of my first course at Lumb Bank in Yorkshire in 1982 I had just had two poems published in <i>Iron</i>, a poetry magazine edited by Peter Mortimer and carrying some weight in poetry circles. One of the poems was called “<i>Settle</i>” and was an account of a walk I took across the Yorkshire Dales while the other was called <i>“Standing in the Smoke”</i>. This was about how I had learned that the popular station master at my local railway station had died of the same illness as my father. Even though it was by now many years later, I still hadn’t completed the grieving process.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Poetry has always had that effect on me. It can bring into focus powerful feelings that I was having as described earlier with Dylan Thomas, and the Lumb Bank course channelled many of the feelings I was having at the time. I had just become a single parent, having separated from Vivien and my daughter, and I was dealing with the confusion that this had caused. The group that had formed at Lumb Bank that week consisted of a number of women drawn to the site by the legacy of Sylvia Plath. The cottage where the course took place was owned by Ted Hughes, the husband of Sylvia Plath, who had become an icon of the women’s movement, particularly in regard to poetry. Out tutors were Martin Booth, an English novelist and poet, who had attended Middlesex University of which more later, and Pete Morgan, a poet who after joining the army had resigned his commission and become a pacifist. According to his obituary by Miles Salter in 2010 Morgan was admired by Ted Hughes. I have his final collection <i>August Light</i> published in 2005. Martin Booth had called him ‘…one of the best social poets writing in this country.’<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Martin had set my task for the poem I was to write. It was to find a mill chimney in the vicinity, go inside and shout inside it. Then I would write about my conclusions. He also told me about a theory that the voice leaves its impression upon stone. I set off eager to find the building and carry out the assignment. I soon found myself in trouble, however. Despite my father having served as a navigator in the many planes he had flown during the 1943-5 war, I had not inherited his skill and I had the most appalling sense of direction. In my haste and eagerness to carry out the task I became confused and discovered that it was impossible to find this abandoned mill amongst the thickets of woods and trees beside Lumb Bank. In the event - suddenly it was there - and I did my best to carry out the task, my voice gradually growing louder as I shouted in the chimney stack.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">The activity and my frustration became the poem I would write and later perform with the others on the final evening. It was a kind of therapy, a poem about finding my voice. I had been mired in depression about being alone and isolated after the separation and subsequent divorce but it seemed that in the chimney the connection that I was making between all the past people who had worked there and whose voices had become part of the walls reached into my mind and comforted me and enabled me to be stronger, one of the first real experiences of the bibliotherapy that <i>The Companionship of Books</i> is about. Later, on the last evening, when all the participants had gathered, we read our completed work to each other and received generally approving comments. As was the practice on Arvon courses we also had a guest writer, the poet Liz Lochhead. Liz had recently published her first work <i>Memo for Spring</i> and read from it a number of engaging poems about family, failed relationships and general life events. I bought a copy of the book which she signed for me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">During the week I had become acquainted with Irmtraud, a German woman who was interested in the poetry of Sylvia Plath. On Arvon writng courses it was also the custom for participants to be divided into groups together to create, prepare and cook a dish that the whole group could share. Irmtraud and I had been in the same group which had made a pasta meal in which tuna and tomatoes featured and we had got on well, joking and talking. Later on, she told me about her interest in Plath and we decided to visit her grave. We found it in the village of Heptonstall and stood and played a quiet homage. Irmtraud was from Hamburg and could remember having to run and hide from the air-raids across the fields near her home during the war in which my father had played a part. She worked in Manchester as a waitress in themed banquets about the life of Tudor Monarchs like Henry VIII. We became friends and once the course had finished, I travelled with her on the train to her home. I stayed at her house for a few days composing and writing poetry while she went to carry out her duties of serving eager customers who would also be dressed to re-enact the lifestyles of past ages.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">Martin Booth, whose expert tutelage had helped me to write "<i>The Mill Chimney"</i>, which provided me with the first indication that being alone and single after eight years of marriage wasn’t the end of the world, was a student at Trent Park College of Education which later became part of Middlesex University. By a strange co-incidence I was also a student at a college that later became part of that University and was in fact at its centre, The Burroughs in Hendon, North London. The next and a key part of the bibliotherapy story is set at Hendon College of Technology.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">"Some names have been changed</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">+ Parts of this blog appeared in Authors Electric, 2nd January 2023</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;">** "Liverpool 8" in <i>Elan</i> 1967</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiq_QiKrcMI5KNL4z7KUT8G-cnztubHGu0-Op-xWSACN3vnpj10qmG1-YSvz42BAnqSWIeGSaDhB4Q2r4vZopY6DtC34BykdCfChEWwGGO6jTDBX90Vdm-vjuBJ01WzC6IdwFuATpondmmTLPHxB3an2d2D_3jlFiF9D3N-g2IDzG4xGAeb51zjKZK40TWy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiq_QiKrcMI5KNL4z7KUT8G-cnztubHGu0-Op-xWSACN3vnpj10qmG1-YSvz42BAnqSWIeGSaDhB4Q2r4vZopY6DtC34BykdCfChEWwGGO6jTDBX90Vdm-vjuBJ01WzC6IdwFuATpondmmTLPHxB3an2d2D_3jlFiF9D3N-g2IDzG4xGAeb51zjKZK40TWy=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><b>References:</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i>Collected Poems 1934-52 </i>(1952) by Dylan Thomas</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i>The War Game</i> (1966) written, directed and produced by Peter Watkins</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><i>The Mersey Sound</i> (1967) Adrian Henri, Roger McGough, Brian Patten</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><i>Memo for Spring</i> (1972) by Liz Lochhead</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm; text-align: left;"><i>THE LYRICS</i> (2021) by Paul McCartney, edited by Paul Muldoon</p><div><br /></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0cm;"><br /></p>Peter Leylandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07717370262319438102noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-30633552931742167402024-03-01T00:00:00.059+00:002024-03-01T00:00:00.139+00:00Never Mind the Author Workshops, What Shall I Wear on World Book Day 2024? wonders Griselda Heppel<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is March, and </span><a href="https://www.worldbookday.com/" style="font-size: large;" target="_blank">World Book Day </a><span style="font-size: large;">approacheth… and I am delighted to find myself booked for the whole day. </span><a href="https://www.cccs.org.uk/private-prep-school/home" style="font-size: large;" target="_blank">Christ Church Cathedral School, Oxford</a><span style="font-size: large;"> have asked for 3 workshops, one based on each of my books, to 3 different year groups, and I’m just hoping my voice doesn’t run out half way through the third one. I know this is nothing for many seasoned authors but I’ve never done quite so much in one day before and I’m wondering how to get into training. Talk more at home, perhaps, in the week up to </span><a href="https://www.worldbookday.com/" style="font-size: large;" target="_blank">Thursday, 7th March</a><span style="font-size: large;">? (What, more than you do already? exclaims my husband. Hmph. Thanks for that.)</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLKJ4HfS2IVRiiP8Yd5jPZRSNPh8rNtaRrEJQqWaVaYk_PaAtCrISWtSWrpxZhl0yjDPRvDdBPc88Vl243iws8TD1qCS699vqLUW2kklrKuUHPLj1jJwthxc2zUht6aSGQAgBTFnBPcz8Uxk8-sqhv6hJ28Et1_U-VFRIdibKVAftXEls-qiqyF4u8jSg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="974" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLKJ4HfS2IVRiiP8Yd5jPZRSNPh8rNtaRrEJQqWaVaYk_PaAtCrISWtSWrpxZhl0yjDPRvDdBPc88Vl243iws8TD1qCS699vqLUW2kklrKuUHPLj1jJwthxc2zUht6aSGQAgBTFnBPcz8Uxk8-sqhv6hJ28Et1_U-VFRIdibKVAftXEls-qiqyF4u8jSg" width="156" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Wind in the Willows</span><br style="font-size: small;" /><span style="font-size: small; font-style: italic;">by Kenneth Grahame</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">One thing I do need to prepare, though: my costume. Dressing up as a favourite character in a children’s book is all part of the fun, apparently, but isn’t as easy as it sounds. Animals (Ratty in </span><i style="font-size: large;">The Wind</i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><i style="font-size: large;">in the Willows</i><span style="font-size: large;">, Reepicheep in </span><i style="font-size: large;">The Voyage of the Dawn Treader</i><span style="font-size: large;">, Kanga in </span><i style="font-size: large;">Winnie the Pooh</i><span style="font-size: large;">) are out, as far as I’m concerned, owing to complexity of costume and the difficulties of giving a workshop through a mouthful of fur.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYdD8_Y4uSXZXkHgHmT6eM7FruKOuuAAiuoW6eBUZQJGEA_oUPHmY5oCOcYfOoG3h99J4E346_-MT-PKqeCrImoYpTF06vDkMPvRsSOo92ajQRnUZwj1kQhunThZURX6PtEHDLvyJaIjGEOSaqSBob-KLJxSw_GaoF4lh8hItvuvAZvXxbMh-8SqOXBBs" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="772" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYdD8_Y4uSXZXkHgHmT6eM7FruKOuuAAiuoW6eBUZQJGEA_oUPHmY5oCOcYfOoG3h99J4E346_-MT-PKqeCrImoYpTF06vDkMPvRsSOo92ajQRnUZwj1kQhunThZURX6PtEHDLvyJaIjGEOSaqSBob-KLJxSw_GaoF4lh8hItvuvAZvXxbMh-8SqOXBBs" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>By John Tenniel - Through the Looking-Glass, Public Domain, <br />https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7592577</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>On the other hand, I’m much too ancient for the human heroes and heroines of my favourite books; the last time I dressed as Alice in </span><i>Alice Through the Looking Glass</i><span> I was 7 years old, and my mother cleverly stuck red Sellotape in rings round my white tights to match the Tenniel illustrations. </span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So, an adult human then… yet adults, strangely (not) aren’t the most inspiring characters in children’s books, usually playing walk-on parts or just being dead. Mrs Noah with her porridge pot in </span><i style="font-size: large;">The Log of the Ark</i><span style="font-size: large;"> (impractical). The Professor in </span><i style="font-size: large;">The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe</i><span style="font-size: large;"> (wrong sex). King Azaz the Unabridged, or the Mathemagician in </span><i style="font-size: large;">The Phantom Tollbooth</i><span style="font-size: large;"> (see above re the Professor). </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The mothers in </span><i style="font-size: large;">Carbonel, The Railway Children, Peter Pan, Little Women, The Famous Five </i><span style="font-size: large;">(no one will know who they are). </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfong2Z8oU1eBZwExSiygSXEqfBRu33n-mzp0xuVUMRWz-ANvVICr5YQjzW5aqKt6jva55tCNfTha1VTMj6FYvvKIGbDFdh9UUAJDno7siXJfZ4llXjpADa2h1BcL-RTWU8v5PYxi1Ywnhr0jo8GCx5T4bd_uYzR2-XoFahcdJ-XnSWHg195DIHGJQwh4/s499/The%20Famous%20Five.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfong2Z8oU1eBZwExSiygSXEqfBRu33n-mzp0xuVUMRWz-ANvVICr5YQjzW5aqKt6jva55tCNfTha1VTMj6FYvvKIGbDFdh9UUAJDno7siXJfZ4llXjpADa2h1BcL-RTWU8v5PYxi1Ywnhr0jo8GCx5T4bd_uYzR2-XoFahcdJ-XnSWHg195DIHGJQwh4/s320/The%20Famous%20Five.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>Just a walk on part for the mother in</i><br />The Famous Five <i>by Enid Blyton</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>And definitely not one of those who gave birth to the main character in </span><i>The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Anne of Green Gables, Heidi, Smith, The White Giraffe, Journey to the River Sea, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone </i></span><span><span style="font-size: medium;">and many, many other books starring an orphan (um, guess why).</span> </span></div></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">No, if an adult has an exciting role in a children’s story, it’s usually to provide the necessary malevolence your young hero must conquer to win the day. The witch in <i>Hansel and Gretel</i>; Cruella De Ville; Mrs Trunchbull: all characters I have no desire to emulate.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCVUEZoLkfZQ0QyUwGcH7JrNnf2X7q0RxVhpqivHyuoAN5XZyHw2VGHVG-bjttkqhG5Jdpj_HKI85JA_Pk1epUYaIifEtsiw3liKT0Th-7tVm0WZPGBzwURt3f_ctBh-hBP9X5gSJeMUFfaITDop5x6PsbRunerXgmBi4c4mkq2kktQyVMO2MZUYQ7IhI" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1096" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCVUEZoLkfZQ0QyUwGcH7JrNnf2X7q0RxVhpqivHyuoAN5XZyHw2VGHVG-bjttkqhG5Jdpj_HKI85JA_Pk1epUYaIifEtsiw3liKT0Th-7tVm0WZPGBzwURt3f_ctBh-hBP9X5gSJeMUFfaITDop5x6PsbRunerXgmBi4c4mkq2kktQyVMO2MZUYQ7IhI=w292-h400" width="292" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>A nose like two potatoes.</i><br />Nurse Matilda<i> by Christianna Brand</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>And while I love the main character in <i>Nurse Matilda</i>, I don’t want to battle for my audience's attention</span><span> in an ankle-length rusty black dress, wielding a big black stick and sporting a nose like two potatoes. </span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Other, practical aspects need consideration: the weather is still jolly cold. No short sleeves and floaty materials, thank you (which excludes Tinkerbell and Titania – not that I, cough, had them in mind anyway). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Nor am I the only one to think in this way. Searching for ideas online (you’ll be amazed how many companies have sprung up to cater for the World Book Day market), I was amused to find <a href="https://megafancydress.co.uk/collections/womens-medieval-costumes/products/medieval-queen-costume" target="_blank">this adult Mediaeval Queen costume </a>all but sold out. Clever teachers: those long sleeves and skirt can hide some cosy thermals underneath. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Heigh ho. I’ll find something, never fear.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>OUT NOW</span><a href="https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/young-children/the-fall-of-a-sparrow-hb/#" style="background: transparent; color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; outline: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> </a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/young-children/the-fall-of-a-sparrow-hb/#" style="background: transparent; color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; outline: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> The Fall of a Sparrow</a><span style="color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">by Griselda Heppel</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> WINNER of a </span><span style="color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Wishing Shelf Award</span><span style="color: #1d0ce7; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> by the author of </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Antes-Inferno-Griselda-Heppel/dp/1780882408/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1483025413&sr=8-1&keywords=ante%27s+inferno" style="background: transparent; color: #d646d6; outline: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Ante's Inferno</a> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> </span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"> WINNER of the People's Book Prize</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://www.griseldaheppel.com/" style="background: transparent; color: #cc4411; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://www.griseldaheppel.com/" style="background: transparent; color: #cc4411; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> www.griseldaheppel.com </span></a></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #5c5c5c; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="https://griseldaheppel.wordpress.com/" style="background: transparent; caret-color: rgb(92, 92, 92); color: #771100; font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; outline: 0px; text-align: center; text-decoration-line: none;"> https://griseldaheppel.wordpress.com</a></div></div>Griselda Heppelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09207965148074302337noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-55953484734713114442024-02-29T03:30:00.006+00:002024-02-29T10:57:10.206+00:00Topics for children's picture books - death? 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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
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</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Our very much loved choir leader, Pauline, died recently.
She’s had inoperable brain tumours. One afternoon soon after her diagnosis, I
shared this poem with her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> CONSERVATION OF MATTER</b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">I am closer, now, to my after</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">than I am to my before.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">This lively mass of atoms</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">I now know as ‘me’,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">was here at the beginning;</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">scattered after the Bang,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">then gathering, dispersing,
re-grouping</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">times out of mind, shapes out of imagining:</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">Slime-mould, starlight, dormouse,
willow tree,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">man, beast, parasite, building
block,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">blade of grass, hover fly, china
clay,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">drop in the ocean, grape-pip,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">earthworm, raincloud, prickle,
soot –</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">and when I break, dissolve, </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">when I am no longer me – </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">the atoms will re-form to be </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">slime-mould, starlight, dormouse,
willow tree?</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">I wrote it to comfort myself and was so relieved and pleased
that it comforted her too – and she asked me to read it at her funeral. It
seemed to strike a chord with quite a few people. My first attempt at making
sense of death for myself was writing <b>Tattybogle</b>, in which the tired and
tattered old scarecrow is blown to pieces in an autumn gale, reduced to a stick
which is dormant all winter, and is re-made in spring when the stick puts down
roots and grows into a ‘beautiful golden tree’ (as dead-looking hazel and
willow branches can). </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHxg2hvdbnMfsREWK7e6XHP9PlzRf7pO0DohggrdpE8rrHee0SW7Pj59jj3uGwmf7GS5cNhkUXN45HbUbrBgLEhShQFEFEmzPBc-IcW2AElzbK7sNcyjnQxeKUD02PluzqA_kJtFOrQMldX-7XeLeBhyphenhyphen4IqX7scDcD6LqLn7wPVPSpqYOUz9WFd8Fi7M/s667/IMG_0262.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHxg2hvdbnMfsREWK7e6XHP9PlzRf7pO0DohggrdpE8rrHee0SW7Pj59jj3uGwmf7GS5cNhkUXN45HbUbrBgLEhShQFEFEmzPBc-IcW2AElzbK7sNcyjnQxeKUD02PluzqA_kJtFOrQMldX-7XeLeBhyphenhyphen4IqX7scDcD6LqLn7wPVPSpqYOUz9WFd8Fi7M/w300-h400/IMG_0262.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The thing about it is that is exists on several levels –
Ken Brown’s gorgeous illustrations include two mice who live with the scarecrow
– one in his hat, the other in his pocket. With very small children, the story
can be about finding the mice on every page and following their story. Older
children enjoy the ‘blown all to pieces’ part, especially his head flying
through the air! Even older children, or adults, understand that it is about death
and rebirth, or even resurrection, as one vicar insisted, and it has been used
in hospices and in explaining death of a loved one to children. In a way, it’s
in the tradition of <b>Badger’s Parting Gifts</b> by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Susan Varley
</span>but it differs in that it is a more oblique take on the topic. It can be
a very simple story about mice, a story about the seasons, or an approach to
the topic of death. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Children’s authors often tackle difficult topics by using
animals as people-substitutes – as in <b>Badger’s Parting Gifts. <span style="text-align: left;"> </span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mzfBrGnDHZWdSQpw9PXXEVhCBbhNQFYrk8cghS9nYzpQt5YnmCJ5bUYwTw0H2SJvbbXW2oMbQTKippjB0qIdl5Wzohbx9GxiD9QLSdESCP_Kh48MJ8PMyoGzch5ECTkBO27lEaeXCGsjLwCOzDi-Pu9PhuOp6vNvAXnoUOmufA1gy2GIHZVLy8dJyAc/s667/IMG_0244.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8mzfBrGnDHZWdSQpw9PXXEVhCBbhNQFYrk8cghS9nYzpQt5YnmCJ5bUYwTw0H2SJvbbXW2oMbQTKippjB0qIdl5Wzohbx9GxiD9QLSdESCP_Kh48MJ8PMyoGzch5ECTkBO27lEaeXCGsjLwCOzDi-Pu9PhuOp6vNvAXnoUOmufA1gy2GIHZVLy8dJyAc/w300-h400/IMG_0244.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There’s another rather old story, <b>When the Porcupine Moved In</b> by Cora Annett, in
which a rabbit’s life is turned upside-down by an unwelcome, grumpy, demanding
guest. It’s fun. I’ve also used it to teach about chronic pain; it’s such a
brilliant analogy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKF_JSlbnf6G44chjXRA5WOn9oA_mHQX3Lw4ilhSvSnwjylmw8l-UvL4ZN2hJWEdS2WAbiOdiItTvpySLS_H7YxUbRnLO_ouMCqRjeTaAns7TpC-w-qOeWE-Wc2yJ5sCWXFUVC9KuYnKP73P9mteYvDUYRK1rltAJOOoLMg8W2AsKEcwPksyjVNF_QXM/s667/IMG_0260.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPKF_JSlbnf6G44chjXRA5WOn9oA_mHQX3Lw4ilhSvSnwjylmw8l-UvL4ZN2hJWEdS2WAbiOdiItTvpySLS_H7YxUbRnLO_ouMCqRjeTaAns7TpC-w-qOeWE-Wc2yJ5sCWXFUVC9KuYnKP73P9mteYvDUYRK1rltAJOOoLMg8W2AsKEcwPksyjVNF_QXM/s320/IMG_0260.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shadowhog</b> is about
being afraid (as I was as a child) of creepy shadows, or it’s just about little
hedgehogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHY_b40kSK_oDe5IE89Y5h_0ZAMkqff68AZShx0X3sQYvcfcXm3NLzyHklbajHGnZRwKz1FYscLiCow3NqdG8xyQoKDrh1aVp2GY2qsW8hdF5qfMJIDjEIwml6GKS8jbR9DFSH9lM1BX4x2BMSfzG-pJaUOYYtIt6PyJs6tsqo8bv_nYzuW9IYdQxW0A/s667/IMG_0263.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOHY_b40kSK_oDe5IE89Y5h_0ZAMkqff68AZShx0X3sQYvcfcXm3NLzyHklbajHGnZRwKz1FYscLiCow3NqdG8xyQoKDrh1aVp2GY2qsW8hdF5qfMJIDjEIwml6GKS8jbR9DFSH9lM1BX4x2BMSfzG-pJaUOYYtIt6PyJs6tsqo8bv_nYzuW9IYdQxW0A/s320/IMG_0263.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In<b> Goose Anna</b>, Anna is
cruelly deformed by a malignant spell but when Jack falls in love with her he
doesn’t even notice, he only notices her kind and loving nature. </div><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJP85WvEjBt2R684URUMJ13G3wcQBtMUfL26NFPRaQvPIwaYz94Ha1UpE8JcuNAsuGPiJLnZBGwIYZg3JpmAu_wqpkZq6iPryD0kJqvizsiY-AaEmMeMSXqQDuRqA2gVYKwQ_zDSY1Quc2ScHsvnC_8GkRIll0zpQuyrJ9KPxeT71J5UcemkofDjEam8Q/s1000/GooseAnna%20cover%20small.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJP85WvEjBt2R684URUMJ13G3wcQBtMUfL26NFPRaQvPIwaYz94Ha1UpE8JcuNAsuGPiJLnZBGwIYZg3JpmAu_wqpkZq6iPryD0kJqvizsiY-AaEmMeMSXqQDuRqA2gVYKwQ_zDSY1Quc2ScHsvnC_8GkRIll0zpQuyrJ9KPxeT71J5UcemkofDjEam8Q/s320/GooseAnna%20cover%20small.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s just a
folksy/fairy story on one level, and something more on another. Tippy the
penguin is really a three-year-old toddler having a roaring tantrum about
nothing much, as they do, and continuing with it until something distracts him
– or it’s just a story about a naughty penguin who learns to surf.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What this is
all leading up to is a comment on picture books, of which there are many now,
about being kind, about diversity, about bullying, the environment, climate
change, you name it, in which the topic is presented head-on, even though the
characters are often animals. Good educational stuff, but not always fun or
with room for the child readers to make their own age-appropriate construction
of the story. They have their place, of course, but a little sprinkling of
mystery, magic and/or silliness wouldn’t go amiss.</div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m not even sure I’m entitled to comment/trumpet blow like this any
more, as it’s a good long while since my last picture book came out, but here
it is. Maybe I’ll shut up now…</p>
</div>Sandra Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01761260568729338471noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-37511097551903312482024-02-26T00:00:00.108+00:002024-02-26T00:00:00.132+00:00The Brontё Girl by Miriam Halahmy<p> </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCInriLnncrvrbvzApVfNh0uEOrlt5U5h8Oj3FscuzDgrIojC3jQPmeHHcFF0Gqr991KP7duUvQr8-02VJbOGnjh5m8PIoYVXj7CTV_4_hy92feIpJSCT1ocuqCrDYd6DXugawVfFL1l5xliXkjHYiUhYw9Y2PxS60mTcxK4i4yEEcXlvc80DlEHuUpI/s2322/TBG%20COVER.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2322" data-original-width="1508" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCInriLnncrvrbvzApVfNh0uEOrlt5U5h8Oj3FscuzDgrIojC3jQPmeHHcFF0Gqr991KP7duUvQr8-02VJbOGnjh5m8PIoYVXj7CTV_4_hy92feIpJSCT1ocuqCrDYd6DXugawVfFL1l5xliXkjHYiUhYw9Y2PxS60mTcxK4i4yEEcXlvc80DlEHuUpI/w260-h400/TBG%20COVER.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;">The Bronte Girl by Miriam Halahmy</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #800180;"><i>A guest post today, from Miriam Halahmy, a good friend from the 'other SAS', The Scattered Author Society...</i></span><p></p><p><b>“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’m
just going to write because I cannot help it.” Charlotte Brontё.<br /></span></span></b></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">My
new novel, <b>The Brontё Girl, </b>Zuntold Books, March 2024, is set in
Haworth in 1847, the year of the publication of Jane Eyre. Kate, 15,
comes from a very poor home in the village. But she has ambitions to
write. She is offered work at The Parsonage, home of the Brontё
family and comes to the attention of the sisters, especially
Charlotte. Encouraged to borrow books and pursue her desire to write,
Kate knows she is in a house full of secrets. Gradually she is
thrilled to realise the sisters are also writers. But poverty and
gender stand in Kate’s way and Luke Feather, who wants to marry
her, believes writing stories is a waste of time.</span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As
an important friendship develops with Charlotte, Kate begins to
embrace the radical ideas of equality and the needs of women. But how
can Kate achieve her ambitions to write, locked into the daily
struggle to survive in Haworth?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
have always loved the Brontёs’ work but I was inspired to write
this novel by a new biography of Charlotte, by Claire Harman. It is
1839 and a new servant appears at the Parsonage, Martha Brown. Harman
writes that Martha is, “Strong, intelligent, able and loyal… but
she was only eleven years old.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That
was the trigger, that wonderful moment of inspiration before the
engine turns on. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What
if a poor girl comes to work at the Parsonage and she is gifted? Her
great desire – just like the Brontё sisters – is to write and be
published. Then she comes to the attention of Charlotte Brontё. I
decided to write a book which would open up the Brontёs life and
work to a new generation of readers and especially their radical
ideas about the role of women.</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutW41IYLlcxzVfyMBXN0xnB7YTD5CYEIveB0rwD2dlGKT_Pnp2FBSIzD0hXV-PAjuWOrsDDO-C_f2C1ehCWKzfyRTgxKP8mE-rLgbERAR3VU3vQqRyadt7aVPmzStr5jWRD3HzfblY1Kh9-yY_WBpNwMPjolwsDzBvhkIpXkpF3LKHc0bpTAjIFj4Dqg/s4000/Ginnel,%20Haworth.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjutW41IYLlcxzVfyMBXN0xnB7YTD5CYEIveB0rwD2dlGKT_Pnp2FBSIzD0hXV-PAjuWOrsDDO-C_f2C1ehCWKzfyRTgxKP8mE-rLgbERAR3VU3vQqRyadt7aVPmzStr5jWRD3HzfblY1Kh9-yY_WBpNwMPjolwsDzBvhkIpXkpF3LKHc0bpTAjIFj4Dqg/s320/Ginnel,%20Haworth.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>Ginnel, Haworth</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
was awarded an Arts Council Grant to research and write the novel.
Ann Dinsdale, Principal Curator at the Brontё Parsonage Museum,
opened the archives for me. Steven Wood, local historian, walked me
round the village discussing social history. </span></span>
<p></p>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Haworth
is a gift to an author. Every worn stone step, every narrow ginnal
and cellar brought alive the 1840s for me. The pubs, the cemetery,
the sexton’s house and the prize at the top; the Parsonage. The
moors, Top Withins, Alcomden Stones; the heather, bilberries, peat
bogs and streams. All provided endless inspiration.</span></span><p></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I
stood in the Parsonage, imagining scenes for my book. Kate in the
kitchen while Emily made bread, her German grammar propped against a
pot. Kate bringing coal to the sitting room, Anne with her feet up on
the fender. Charlotte’s steely eyes fixed on Kate, inspiring her to
read Thackeray. Branwell’s room strewn with half empty sheets of
paper which Kate craves, horrified at the waste. She only has a stump
of pencil and a tatty notebook for her stories. </span></span>
</p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75GbVTsDuuWYcfEZw1qrA7YgGiAi2Bc5J2gSyOnmc4r988eQ9khhKuyKK9_g2v0TTzjEuVKhUS5PGD-kV5QM_AYz2BEkgMDb4FtfGyeTG89lHqYrB8luAwPRF4LB5A1CvgPNNGqSah3pVn4Ndr1l1fBWV7oMTdc6tsh64IchSqAJcZSzdrBucyxAJQng/s1024/On%20the%20path%20to%20Top%20Withins,%20believed%20to%20be%20the%20%20inspiration%20for%20Wuthering%20Heights..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi75GbVTsDuuWYcfEZw1qrA7YgGiAi2Bc5J2gSyOnmc4r988eQ9khhKuyKK9_g2v0TTzjEuVKhUS5PGD-kV5QM_AYz2BEkgMDb4FtfGyeTG89lHqYrB8luAwPRF4LB5A1CvgPNNGqSah3pVn4Ndr1l1fBWV7oMTdc6tsh64IchSqAJcZSzdrBucyxAJQng/w480-h640/On%20the%20path%20to%20Top%20Withins,%20believed%20to%20be%20the%20%20inspiration%20for%20Wuthering%20Heights..jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>On the path to Top Withins, believed to be the inspiration for 'Wuthering Heights'</i></span></div></span><p></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">In
the archives I studied the little books brought out for me to see and
read the sisters’ original letters and poems. I visited Brontё
Brussels and I haunted the British Library. I accumulated three
shelves of books and maps. Each piece of research added essential
layers to my work, before the Brontёs uttered a word.</span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oPp5SUWRp0gZJ-XWN-f8ADnNA5qasA89fCY1Z_WWgdxxyFBDhdWqXyHHE9usF5NDAk_jW766UtSZJ42RTR67Jft_Y1HnjQk_avpBvJEeZ29ONjhEjh3vXMB6gmZagqFdbq9jsMslAjfAOylFX6MTUFmrBr5PSFsPzaCEvCrBV9EAq0hQ1T4knNdwIh4/s3264/Charlotte's%20little%20book,%201830,%20aged%2014%20yrs.%20-%20Copy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1836" data-original-width="3264" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1oPp5SUWRp0gZJ-XWN-f8ADnNA5qasA89fCY1Z_WWgdxxyFBDhdWqXyHHE9usF5NDAk_jW766UtSZJ42RTR67Jft_Y1HnjQk_avpBvJEeZ29ONjhEjh3vXMB6gmZagqFdbq9jsMslAjfAOylFX6MTUFmrBr5PSFsPzaCEvCrBV9EAq0hQ1T4knNdwIh4/w400-h225/Charlotte's%20little%20book,%201830,%20aged%2014%20yrs.%20-%20Copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Charlotte's little book, 1830, aged fourteen years.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">At
a gathering of Brontё Society members in Haworth, last year, I was
invited to read an extract from the manuscript and I chose to read
the moment when Charlotte and Kate first meet. There were several
Brontё academics in the room. It felt like the ultimate test. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One
academic asked, “How can you bring alive in fiction these people
who really existed?” I answered, “This is Kate’s story, and
everything is through her eyes. My research allowed me to breathe
life into all seven of the real people in my book.” Everyone said
they wanted to read the book, which was a relief!</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9-cifIDFZ0T6jrGGDtMosivLVl7D0dN55O-KxYHR13MWVotZb9ijQM5STUs4oeWMNuBwj3C20KmwP0ZTlI9VSJgdxWNNtalnrx4W8kyaWUjQOQ1WxDuxPpuqOkaQVey70gCdUZg4F5PQmxjhJyc7W3u36weqqOIwO6Qtmn3cxMjmvwF_-fn8cUkkWO8/s1683/Researching%20in%20the%20Bronte%20Parsonage%20Musuem%20archives.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1683" data-original-width="1589" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9-cifIDFZ0T6jrGGDtMosivLVl7D0dN55O-KxYHR13MWVotZb9ijQM5STUs4oeWMNuBwj3C20KmwP0ZTlI9VSJgdxWNNtalnrx4W8kyaWUjQOQ1WxDuxPpuqOkaQVey70gCdUZg4F5PQmxjhJyc7W3u36weqqOIwO6Qtmn3cxMjmvwF_-fn8cUkkWO8/s320/Researching%20in%20the%20Bronte%20Parsonage%20Musuem%20archives.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Miriam Halahmy</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pre-publication
reviews have also been encouraging. Sharon Wright, author of Mother
of the Brontёs: The Life of Maria Branwell, comments,</span></span><p></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></p><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p></p><p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">An
absorbing story… The book radiates with Halahmy’s meticulous
research, allowing us to appreciate the harsh realities of life for
Kate in 1840s Yorkshire - and her struggle to escape by writing, like
Charlotte, because she cannot help it. A clever and insightful slant
on the Brontës.”</span></b></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In
the momentous year of 1847, when the Brontё sisters published their
novels and Jane Eyre took the<br /> world by storm, Kate’s journey in my
book, <b>The Brontё Girl,</b> mirrors the sisters’ hopes and dreams and
asks, In a world of increasing inequality, how much have women’s
rights really improved since those heady days?</span></span></p>
<p class="western" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Miriam
Halahmy</b></span></span></p>Susan Pricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07738737493756183909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-71151372631292103652024-02-25T00:00:00.087+00:002024-02-25T00:00:00.127+00:00Beating the Ghost Drum Louder -- by Susan Price<p style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG4RQpZHnPlMqRvyCJiO4awHV3qzU3aYE9t9uFIv4AQEGgMYTWwoJvgrif_yhn9Q6qWCJ5Lrad5Ui8fWfzGot8uywl3NU26fi__ac6SO9HLecuNdhaoA1x6ten-RvSQ5kYXMJVVsIhTUHgOBcT3MFmJbCdrRFnuVowDPBu5Dk9x3CTLaEy58E3cupJyc/s1305/REPRINTED%20GHOST%20DRUM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="954" data-original-width="1305" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjG4RQpZHnPlMqRvyCJiO4awHV3qzU3aYE9t9uFIv4AQEGgMYTWwoJvgrif_yhn9Q6qWCJ5Lrad5Ui8fWfzGot8uywl3NU26fi__ac6SO9HLecuNdhaoA1x6ten-RvSQ5kYXMJVVsIhTUHgOBcT3MFmJbCdrRFnuVowDPBu5Dk9x3CTLaEy58E3cupJyc/w640-h469/REPRINTED%20GHOST%20DRUM.JPG" width="640" /> </a></p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://authorselectric.blogspot.com/2024/01/beating-ghost-drum-susan-price.html" target="_blank">Last month, I wrote about how I finished the rewrites for Ghost Drum,</a> back in 1986, on an Amstrad word-processor, and how it's now being re-published, after nearly forty years, as a Faber Classic.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I was chuffed enough about that. Happy days, I thought.</p><p style="text-align: left;">A few days ago, my Faber editor got in touch to say that, in that month, their entire initial print-run of 2000 had sold, and they were re-printing.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Both Hatchards and Waterstones, I'm told, have asked for 'minor tweaks' to the cover -- and that's the new version above, duly tweaked. It has a darker, more dramatic background than originally.</p><p style="text-align: left;">'Sales', I'm told, have also asked for changes to the cover -- which hardly ever happens in subsequent print runs, says my editor, and so is a clear sign that Sales have confidence in, well, sales.</p><p style="text-align: left;">The new cover is to have-- wait for it-- Embossing! And-- wait some more-- 'spot UV.'</p><p style="text-align: left;">I had no idea at all what 'spot UV' was. I had to go and look it up. In case you're as ignorant as me, it's a varnish finish added to all or part of a cover, and 'cured' with UV light. This produces a highly polished, shiny surface, sometimes with texture.</p><p style="text-align: left;">I can hardly wait for my new author copies to arrive, so I can feast my eyes on the embossing and spot UVing.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Sales, says my editor, think that, with these changes, the book will 'remain core stock for bookshops for many years to come.'</p><p style="text-align: left;">Amen to that.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTchdcA6TD9IlPxo6MuXK859a_xhD9BRL9PzEQdYe7b0qdtGdYfs51RsVifaUgJ0iBqwNrLrQIgHdjTkUMBGqfN32YB2Z_7s8AAj6ugC-ScL_x-z7_s7BjrIuoJ_NyZeIR69gDYnAtlA-wXzOt3uLSvpaHjuaA1FaC5-AVgYuJs4AT6wYtIju6jVOI0EM/s2000/PHOTOSHOP%20BIFFO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTchdcA6TD9IlPxo6MuXK859a_xhD9BRL9PzEQdYe7b0qdtGdYfs51RsVifaUgJ0iBqwNrLrQIgHdjTkUMBGqfN32YB2Z_7s8AAj6ugC-ScL_x-z7_s7BjrIuoJ_NyZeIR69gDYnAtlA-wXzOt3uLSvpaHjuaA1FaC5-AVgYuJs4AT6wYtIju6jVOI0EM/w176-h176/PHOTOSHOP%20BIFFO.jpg" width="176" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
that is the end of the story, says the cat. It was all true — I know it was
true, because I was at the Czaritsa’s funeral and wet my whiskers in the beer
drunk there. They haven’t dried yet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Open the windows and let the lies fly out!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you thought this story tasty, then
serve it to others, says the cat.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you thought it sour, then sweeten it
with your own telling.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But whether you liked it, or liked it not,
take it away and let it make its own way back to me, riding on another's
tongue. <br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
cat lays herself down among the links of her golden chain and tucks her
forepaws beneath her breast.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Head up, ears pricked, she falls asleep
under her oak-tree, and neither sings nor tells stories.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "Garamond", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <b><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Ghost-Drum-Susan-Price/dp/0571381588/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2OXEWA3MUCNZF&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.OqLUtve4Fg4IWgligcj2aWlMshBVBFDioBPDChlTpuUN28Sk29-wTEv06FA3ozX5mk9-jW3_FoNVj5_dCrEIHnXiEgEwsasV6-Vn6-a-uLE.iOVmMVVdvos-zua1qlJicbf9ARirDb2L1ssW6cOZKIw&dib_tag=se&keywords=Susan+Price%2C+Ghost+Drum&qid=1708442055&s=books&sprefix=susan+price+ghost+drum%2Cstripbooks%2C172&sr=1-1" target="_blank"> From 'Ghost Drum'</a></b> <br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Garamond",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span> <br /></p>Susan Pricehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07738737493756183909noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-293697996335428962024-02-21T00:30:00.162+00:002024-02-21T00:30:00.128+00:00Leaping into 2024 with Katherine Roberts' original publisher Chicken House<p>2024 is a leap year, which means we all get an extra day in February to write our next masterpiece. This extra leap day, proposed by Julius Caesar more than 2000 years ago to keep our calendar in sync with the seasons, is traditionally added at the end of the month on February 29th. I make no apology for mentioning it now because there is a rare open submission event happening on that extra day at Chicken House, the original publisher of my debut novel <i>Song Quest</i>.</p><p>For 24 hours only, debut authors of fiction for young readers are invited to enter their (finished or unfinished) first novel into Chicken House's Open Coop.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6qboXdItNzbLv-MctMbdevGIzWuunQbqLyrzHc6Ujuw_GrO6ylaG2qtOfa4S_uSA8uBOBnIR4yq0k4ePgREwGjkYN9wdrouhOZaV2NggdAnNKz1chbRFgN64ZS8s49FI_ei9ufTNCrJnE2phU1CGu78UQrM-9oA6uyMfy_jXi918WCQ0tn30OfEsRV3d/s1052/open%20coop.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="1052" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6qboXdItNzbLv-MctMbdevGIzWuunQbqLyrzHc6Ujuw_GrO6ylaG2qtOfa4S_uSA8uBOBnIR4yq0k4ePgREwGjkYN9wdrouhOZaV2NggdAnNKz1chbRFgN64ZS8s49FI_ei9ufTNCrJnE2phU1CGu78UQrM-9oA6uyMfy_jXi918WCQ0tn30OfEsRV3d/w400-h272/open%20coop.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.chickenhousebooks.com/blog/leap-year-open-coop/" target="_blank">Open Coop 29th February 2024</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Although there wasn't an official Open Coop back when I submitted <i>Song Quest</i> (Chicken House itself was still an idea in an egg at the time), I followed a similar route to publication by sending in the early chapters of my book myself. In those early days I had no agent and knew nobody in the business, so I simply worked my way through the <i>Writers' and Artists' Yearbook</i> starting at 'A'. I was prepared to go all the way through to 'Z' in my quest for a suitable publisher, but in the end I didn't have to send out that many proposals, which was probably just as well since back then we didn't have email, which meant everything had to go by post lovingly wrapped in padded envelopes. You really felt as if you'd made a submission in those days.</p><p>In his coop/editorial office at what was then Element Books, Chicken House's founder Barry Cunningham picked my manuscript off his 'slush pile' to take on a fabulous journey that resulted in <i>Song Quest </i>winning the inaugural Branford Boase Award. The book went on to enjoy publication in America with Scholastic US, on the way securing me a lovely agent in the late Maggie Noach, who at that time agented Anthony Horowitz and David Almond among other names far more talented than me. In other words, it was a fairytale beginning to my career.</p><p>So if you're a debut children's author with an unpublished manuscript burning a hole in your computer, don't delay because this is an 'eggs-ellent' opportunity not to be missed!</p><p style="text-align: center;">*</p><p style="text-align: center;">Katherine Roberts writes fantasy and historical fiction for young readers.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Her debut novel <i>Song Quest</i> has enjoyed several editions since it was first published in 1999, and is currently available as both paperback and ebook from Amazon and the other main digital stores.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH3j1GteXvYXLz3LMAgRw8bBhoCmYTbkInXe6ItxlmHlgEgjUy9zXP6SxEX1xKlyRKUzxe9QUuE5-I8x15OaHL1knzMQzklihxyjvk2a8rXphpWhde8roXxuhsVdNq3RvMfm9ruvbvCXSnOFHtHO1o-Hmzly3ncetiB7ltqxESQIdYtMG-kbfOoMLSxrQ/s320/Song%20Quest%20-front.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="213" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinH3j1GteXvYXLz3LMAgRw8bBhoCmYTbkInXe6ItxlmHlgEgjUy9zXP6SxEX1xKlyRKUzxe9QUuE5-I8x15OaHL1knzMQzklihxyjvk2a8rXphpWhde8roXxuhsVdNq3RvMfm9ruvbvCXSnOFHtHO1o-Hmzly3ncetiB7ltqxESQIdYtMG-kbfOoMLSxrQ/s1600/Song%20Quest%20-front.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Song-Quest-1-Echorium-Sequence/dp/1717270514/" target="_blank">SONG QUEST</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Two further books in the Echorium Sequence, <i>Crystal Mask </i>and <i>Dark Quetzal,</i> also first published by Chicken House, are available in ebook or paperback.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> You can find more details of these books on Katherine's <a href="https://reclusivemuse.blogspot.com/p/echorium-sequence.html" target="_blank">website</a>.</p>Katherine Robertshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196712319655603442noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-67080509794666326502024-02-18T00:30:00.022+00:002024-02-18T00:30:00.126+00:00Book Recommendations - Yay or Nay? by Allison Symes<div><h4 style="text-align: justify;"><i style="color: #741b47;">Image Credit: Images created in Book Brush using Pixabay photos.</i></h4><p style="text-align: justify;">What is your policy on recommending books? I have a couple of policies.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Firstly, I only recommend a book to someone I know well enough where I have a reasonable knowledge of their reading tastes. I want someone to enjoy what I recommend.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEoG8KcylTm4hu4at-ivNQnr1Dau7ENSluwPo10tzZbsT_37OX3pqLM0_S7B1ujTkrxmx5JsMorRGixFTQFTa0wsWMHkn0SoL87KEl882IpwGdPImLZ6BMBrI0YntTCHXn0reTJKG2OVrWmz9YKnklQ9XbHyvrXy3rXRFTPeau-PPA6Zx46RNKbfxidA/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20I%20follow%20a%20couple%20of%20policies%20when%20recommending%20books%20to%20others.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEoG8KcylTm4hu4at-ivNQnr1Dau7ENSluwPo10tzZbsT_37OX3pqLM0_S7B1ujTkrxmx5JsMorRGixFTQFTa0wsWMHkn0SoL87KEl882IpwGdPImLZ6BMBrI0YntTCHXn0reTJKG2OVrWmz9YKnklQ9XbHyvrXy3rXRFTPeau-PPA6Zx46RNKbfxidA/w400-h210/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20I%20follow%20a%20couple%20of%20policies%20when%20recommending%20books%20to%20others.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Secondly, and if it is a book I’ve found useful for my writing, I will share my thoughts on it on social media. I occasionally recommend books on <i>Goodreads</i>. I write a weekly blog on that so if a useful book has gripped me, I will mention it there.</div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsWjUqBUEM4_RtSchTHQa2TMu17623kf7QiNwm6T63riVl8Ag3Qckk2A6hu0BoV9eTwJBnWhcjardPSFnIc7rYLhEW7VeyF3yZqFUyajU2j8zVeYxbCov66fhXfFBGLD9JfI0G77RgWPMx7OAmPjH96oHP4CI3U-9S1XuQJMHNQ9cEY92Z1NdLRE5Hvg/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Am%20happy%20to%20recommend%20useful%20books,%20especially%20on%20writing.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWsWjUqBUEM4_RtSchTHQa2TMu17623kf7QiNwm6T63riVl8Ag3Qckk2A6hu0BoV9eTwJBnWhcjardPSFnIc7rYLhEW7VeyF3yZqFUyajU2j8zVeYxbCov66fhXfFBGLD9JfI0G77RgWPMx7OAmPjH96oHP4CI3U-9S1XuQJMHNQ9cEY92Z1NdLRE5Hvg/w400-h266/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Am%20happy%20to%20recommend%20useful%20books,%20especially%20on%20writing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fiction can be more difficult to recommend, I think. Tastes differ. While I love fantasy, not everyone does. Even for those that do, there are different kinds of fantasy writing. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I always go for the humorous type rather than the deadly serious (with the exception of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, which encompasses everything. Yes, there is a deadly serious story. There is also humour. The hobbits, Pippin and Merry, make me smile, especially in the earlier section of the trilogy).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2tVVPhd4Z8kZwvW2rNRTc8uwaLmJXokj45AfMiKz0o7e3wbxFx_pys82jvRuhJeZQuDIPMBEOm2t15GALsOoaiX465A0OlYaKdeDTGvEMWCV0PL34YeVED6zRPTZMHCUPgq17lh4iFhqZ00Qz74N5Wnx0WwtmTz-MbPi_y-imyXXVrxyRdgjEFqb-J8/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Fiction,%20I%20think,%20is%20harder%20to%20recommend%20due%20to%20the%20wide%20variety%20of%20it.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2tVVPhd4Z8kZwvW2rNRTc8uwaLmJXokj45AfMiKz0o7e3wbxFx_pys82jvRuhJeZQuDIPMBEOm2t15GALsOoaiX465A0OlYaKdeDTGvEMWCV0PL34YeVED6zRPTZMHCUPgq17lh4iFhqZ00Qz74N5Wnx0WwtmTz-MbPi_y-imyXXVrxyRdgjEFqb-J8/w400-h266/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Fiction,%20I%20think,%20is%20harder%20to%20recommend%20due%20to%20the%20wide%20variety%20of%20it.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0LTH2KG0GkU_8qMKiUzbAG_YZ-BNcBiSxlR461QSikIN2_B76_iB16M56Q9n7RUvvELbPx3svKxjqByuFn2kKJP09rBtwEik_uTj_d2qjXH5KWoIItQg5uASDmRXNx79YFbDFV8hBBIwWmC1aVR0MNJpLBKblCvVE5GSC3zGhOlKjz2EA8eL1ZzV0Pk/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20The%20Lord%20of%20the%20Rings%20has%20everything%20including%20humour.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="640" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0LTH2KG0GkU_8qMKiUzbAG_YZ-BNcBiSxlR461QSikIN2_B76_iB16M56Q9n7RUvvELbPx3svKxjqByuFn2kKJP09rBtwEik_uTj_d2qjXH5KWoIItQg5uASDmRXNx79YFbDFV8hBBIwWmC1aVR0MNJpLBKblCvVE5GSC3zGhOlKjz2EA8eL1ZzV0Pk/w400-h266/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20The%20Lord%20of%20the%20Rings%20has%20everything%20including%20humour.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Have you been glad to take up a book recommendation from someone or from a radio programme, say? I came across the wonderful <i>The Daughter of Time</i> by Josephine Tey by hearing the book read on <i>Radio 4 Extra</i>. That made me get the book for myself, which is a good result.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I also read <i>Oliver Twist </i>after seeing the classic adaptation starring Sir Alec Guinness as Fagin and Oliver Reed as Bill Sykes on BBC 2 many years ago. Reed was frightening as Sykes. I wanted to then read the book itself. Don’t know quite what Dickens would have made of that. Am sure he would rather I’d read the book first but the adaptation was how I was introduced to the story. There is a place for such things. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zoXwKg72aGvkDYWbQJf19DrF4CUavAusKkCpEHhI3Gs6biJcQ4aY26jJ7tMMO3OTxEAgJotVORmXNWmp2reRUz7ZSqGG4U2W_wvgsTVviC1tAJB3om2hXQmgJMY6kqsXYxCmToJapczUmlZuNfQKR-WD2JFDBg9k1Ml92eNptXJpgVyNTYUTIWmyvyI/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Books%20on%20the%20radio%20have%20sometimes%20made%20me%20go%20and%20buy%20the%20books%20afterwards.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5zoXwKg72aGvkDYWbQJf19DrF4CUavAusKkCpEHhI3Gs6biJcQ4aY26jJ7tMMO3OTxEAgJotVORmXNWmp2reRUz7ZSqGG4U2W_wvgsTVviC1tAJB3om2hXQmgJMY6kqsXYxCmToJapczUmlZuNfQKR-WD2JFDBg9k1Ml92eNptXJpgVyNTYUTIWmyvyI/w400-h210/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Books%20on%20the%20radio%20have%20sometimes%20made%20me%20go%20and%20buy%20the%20books%20afterwards.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mind you, Dickens does get his own way thanks to the <i>The Muppet Christmas Carol</i>. It’s something I always watch over the festive season. One of my favourite moments comes right at the end when Gonzo recommends reading the book! Now that’s a recommendation I am happy to pass on - great story and wonderful adaptation of it too. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">If an author new to me is recommended to me by someone else, I nearly always try their work on ebook first. If I like what I read, I go on to buy other books by them in paperback. I recommend authors to others when I’ve read and loved at least two of their works.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNjDisNSwwQ9eaWdZ-ZahHsh5Sa0nV3of0zbKfcKC_c_nMur-LYwWiSHsPWDTcyJFma7f6Bpo316Ca0ycDE0Jw8DPLMtCBdqrAAYoeYoF2vYRfKudXSMvR8hPxbCpTUbwe-Do75aKX_d2DIhTebgBND4kjFe4pFQXKXXfMR01GmoU913vsqa1f7WUjrM/s640/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Love%20what%20you%20read,%20read%20what%20you%20love.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="640" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNjDisNSwwQ9eaWdZ-ZahHsh5Sa0nV3of0zbKfcKC_c_nMur-LYwWiSHsPWDTcyJFma7f6Bpo316Ca0ycDE0Jw8DPLMtCBdqrAAYoeYoF2vYRfKudXSMvR8hPxbCpTUbwe-Do75aKX_d2DIhTebgBND4kjFe4pFQXKXXfMR01GmoU913vsqa1f7WUjrM/w400-h210/AE%20-%20Feb%202024%20-%20Love%20what%20you%20read,%20read%20what%20you%20love.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I love the idea of recommending books in itself though. Books are a great pleasure and delight so why wouldn’t you want to share that with someone else you also think might appreciate it?</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">My book recommendation for 2024 so far then? It is simply to read more than in 2023 and to love as much of what you read as possible. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Love what you read. Read what you love. Hmm…. There’s a thought.</p>Allison Symeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05480799246770738134noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-4806123021449852202024-02-17T00:30:00.009+00:002024-02-17T09:41:23.696+00:00The Story of One Photograph - by Elizabeth Kay<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3H2OTIRwBJE6j00OtiXDSh7UGT1-kUdoQoABRl5Pk3kP1jI8F5IQ23J75AS8wDUMoBkr_7BYytZKiaXmQ4qUVj72pUZrbo3RChm-foLlOQk0MCcaktLhqblns5KhY78uEGpwW_CDEuuKDtf2UZpJREZJ5ajF3uqj289NWLvdwa78GLgfTVeE4PHsu8Sk/s320/Hunted%20cover%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="222" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3H2OTIRwBJE6j00OtiXDSh7UGT1-kUdoQoABRl5Pk3kP1jI8F5IQ23J75AS8wDUMoBkr_7BYytZKiaXmQ4qUVj72pUZrbo3RChm-foLlOQk0MCcaktLhqblns5KhY78uEGpwW_CDEuuKDtf2UZpJREZJ5ajF3uqj289NWLvdwa78GLgfTVeE4PHsu8Sk/w278-h400/Hunted%20cover%20(2016_11_15%2009_02_57%20UTC).jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>Hunted cover by Elizabeth Kay</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><div style="text-align: justify;">I often use photographs I have taken myself for artwork in
books because there are no copyright issues, and I do watercolours of them. For
my reluctant reader, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hunted-Elizabeth-Kay-ebook/dp/B00AY1EUQ0/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=elizabeth+kay&qid=1706005041&s=digital-text&sprefix=ELIZABETH+KAY%2Cdigital-text%2C262&sr=1-3" target="_blank">Hunted</a></i>, I used my own illustrations for the cover
and to head every chapter. I have a strong interest in wildlife, and most of my
holidays have been booked with this in mind. But what a difference the right
camera makes.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">A week before I was due to go to the Pantanal, in Brazil, I went
into our local camera shop to try and find out why I was not getting the
quality I wanted with my Panasonic. I am not techie with cameras, and had
always bought ones with good automatic settings. The shop owner, who knew me
well, handed me a Nikon Coolpix P900 and said, “Go for a walk up the High
street with this, take a few photos, and tell me what you think.” I returned
with one word: Sold. It has an 83X zoom, and is very easy to use. That was
seven years ago, and I have never wanted another camera. It is still on sale at
Amazon at the same price I paid seven years ago, and it takes good videos as
well. The shop owner used my photograph of a peregrine falcon eyeing up a fly
at the top of a local water tower as an advert for the camera. That was taken
at full zoom, as it was a long way away.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmJEu8KNL-gdSzHK55eIelwCVi-cHbuAXVPIv0LKtJjFFgNb6znMwGULGaqh3FJmh8l1ek363TH9OaM4EXFhANk0BsgCUPQqefH4ImrK9F5TughnMiVN98ICS9qTGX99rMvsh95cBXIjLJGz8LR8Cwbaiip361Wucvx3fIKvOG9DjbYo2Cd-UHXu8iIU/s1972/60964151_10157179594978396_6202324197268520960_n.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1857" data-original-width="1972" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmJEu8KNL-gdSzHK55eIelwCVi-cHbuAXVPIv0LKtJjFFgNb6znMwGULGaqh3FJmh8l1ek363TH9OaM4EXFhANk0BsgCUPQqefH4ImrK9F5TughnMiVN98ICS9qTGX99rMvsh95cBXIjLJGz8LR8Cwbaiip361Wucvx3fIKvOG9DjbYo2Cd-UHXu8iIU/s320/60964151_10157179594978396_6202324197268520960_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>A peregrine eyes up a fly</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As I’d
spent twenty years trying to see a leopard, without success, I told everyone I
was going to Brazil to <i>not</i> see jaguars. But on the very first morning we
had the most amazing sighting, from a boat, and the camera lived up to
expectations. Since then I <i>have </i>seen leopards – and far more elusive
creatures, such as the Iberian lynx, the mountain gorilla, the proboscis monkey
and the hoatzin. And the camera has been with me every step of the way. In
September 2023 I went back to Madagascar, to try and see everything I’d missed
first time round in 2011 because I was so ill. And yes, I was ill again, but
managed to see the animals I wanted. The most elusive of all is the fossa,
Madagascar’s own predator, as different from every other predator as the lemur
is different from every other primate. That’s what years of isolation does for
you, as Madagascar split from the Indian sub-continent 90 million years ago.
There has been a lot of argument about the ancestry of the fossa; civets,
mongooses and cats have been suggested, but no one really knows. It’s the size
of a small cougar, which it most closely resembles, although its tail is
extremely long enabling it to hunt very successfully in trees. It feeds
principally on lemurs, is unashamedly aggressive, and not in the slightest bit
intimidated by human beings.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPt0tbN4WxhcFuTGx7fv5j7vV2onxqTQI1f9xMrQxeCiQkRhXYR3rLX77MF0i5keEfTIUpIieqVanbk1CUJ0l4s797xqD6GX62479nqEJN2EgRxL3vJzdTY16N7vV7faCaWPLfTfB2GMahUuKo2HXWBLnOwNKmls4LrBmS4tu04akwfpIl3CF9ytlxtHk/s4608/DSCN9849.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPt0tbN4WxhcFuTGx7fv5j7vV2onxqTQI1f9xMrQxeCiQkRhXYR3rLX77MF0i5keEfTIUpIieqVanbk1CUJ0l4s797xqD6GX62479nqEJN2EgRxL3vJzdTY16N7vV7faCaWPLfTfB2GMahUuKo2HXWBLnOwNKmls4LrBmS4tu04akwfpIl3CF9ytlxtHk/w320-h240/DSCN9849.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">An unintimidated fossa</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I didn’t
expect to see one. I went to the west of Madagascar, and stayed in the Kirindy
Forest Lodge, a rustic camp in the middle of the Kirindy Forest Reserve,
sleeping in one of the wooden chalets which are dotted around the site. And as
usual, I went out early with my camera to do some birdwatching and saw the
hindquarters of something with a very long tail disappearing behind the
kitchen. There was only one thing it could be – a fossa. I summoned husband
Bob, and we watched it from a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>safe
distance. We had a wonderful young guide, Theo, who overheard us and came
rushing over. That one was a female, but that afternoon a male popped up, once
again scavenging behind the kitchen, and I managed to get a lucky photo of him
snarling. Theo, no mean photographer himself, was impressed, and asked me to
email him the picture. Since then, that photo has had several different
incarnations. I was given it as a jigsaw puzzle for Christmas. It’s featuring
in this blog post. But most impressive of all is Theo’s new safari jacket, to
be worn when guiding people round the Kirindy Forest. Wow. I am still in touch
with him, and he sends me amazing photographs of snakes which are a bit too
graphic to post here!</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjnPmfFbvM9Dq1-25dKqdZmJypAMVIwG9Ke_QclfUqlIEyRimPI7rKq1LKgQ-yJcTqkEHfKWxfFXiQBbYSol8R0zFD7dpaNdvnzs1TucW1FpSyMAhL8CxYWWqw_bOPfwgRTt7JGeVNM5W9E4tpCLq_ewQuHUcvu135J-opoXrPU5Bal9FDRBMK8G7Fj6Y/s3896/Theo%20edit.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3896" data-original-width="3188" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjnPmfFbvM9Dq1-25dKqdZmJypAMVIwG9Ke_QclfUqlIEyRimPI7rKq1LKgQ-yJcTqkEHfKWxfFXiQBbYSol8R0zFD7dpaNdvnzs1TucW1FpSyMAhL8CxYWWqw_bOPfwgRTt7JGeVNM5W9E4tpCLq_ewQuHUcvu135J-opoXrPU5Bal9FDRBMK8G7Fj6Y/w262-h320/Theo%20edit.JPG" width="262" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theo, my guide<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">Sometimes a photograph can act as
inspiration for a character. In Mongolia, we met an eleven-year-old girl who
was herding goats on horseback, and was determined to prove herself as
accomplished as the men. She was a magnificent rider, and I used her in my book
</span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">Lost in the Desert</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">. Her name was Atontos – which means the last baby
rabbit. I’m off to Svalbard in June, in the vain hope of seeing polar bear. I
know several people who’ve gone there and not seen any, so I’m not getting my
hopes up. I didn’t see one in Greenland, although they do pop up occasionally. Apparently
a previous trip encountered two of them by the side of the road! But I will
have my trusty camera with me, so fingers crossed…</span></div></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicGYPdmmLFE-f9wR_froiilDW9XrjtyOVJ7VWGWPuT88cb7dpTOxA9pr1PcqiA8PFj5EIdZ66Lw-cart8rcf9GYcnhpYEi4Eg9CVjxso1-mGka-3gO7mgzmSsyN0L40JNKW5VQI041HKdObSYLILGnKFHNXO1r5lxWNu4HEbT1IfNk9viKjJA1TSc6B0/s1926/fossa%20jigsaw%20edit.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="1926" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicGYPdmmLFE-f9wR_froiilDW9XrjtyOVJ7VWGWPuT88cb7dpTOxA9pr1PcqiA8PFj5EIdZ66Lw-cart8rcf9GYcnhpYEi4Eg9CVjxso1-mGka-3gO7mgzmSsyN0L40JNKW5VQI041HKdObSYLILGnKFHNXO1r5lxWNu4HEbT1IfNk9viKjJA1TSc6B0/w640-h408/fossa%20jigsaw%20edit.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snarling fossa jigsaw</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHP4EevBSe9r1YJX5keEjglTmeqVFZzmkUGEFENy_Ukg2_enas4tZOeB95ROD4xXt_hhTBFcxy9Ay7-m7Ktfbvou0Dicfm8-w-AcyNr7dvJAL2xDSpVzZj72yCAWgj3uIhP5Onnhrh75dues98aIFSXAOVX7ma5JRIga7TbzwaIg8anb_TKmvibcWkLY/s1018/TSILATSY%20GILET%20(1).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="1018" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMHP4EevBSe9r1YJX5keEjglTmeqVFZzmkUGEFENy_Ukg2_enas4tZOeB95ROD4xXt_hhTBFcxy9Ay7-m7Ktfbvou0Dicfm8-w-AcyNr7dvJAL2xDSpVzZj72yCAWgj3uIhP5Onnhrh75dues98aIFSXAOVX7ma5JRIga7TbzwaIg8anb_TKmvibcWkLY/w640-h496/TSILATSY%20GILET%20(1).png" width="640" /></a></p><br /><p></p>Elizabeth Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16773078844943829786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-39805169472040779132024-02-11T00:30:00.003+00:002024-02-11T10:42:30.024+00:00It's the Year of the Dragon -- Misha Herwin<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6bxlyK5Gv6Sw0vg-GxtDYTybTpg6ZeurCXWRhFxemxvzBY0kvgfZsHfOOC5YwK7MmO-Sol2pbxPPTThDnJs_r3-VB_huUpRVXR0ejk2zLZdI40czCfSr4EhHo9MGmVPaFvKtklPAS0nb4nzaeT2QH6L803Vs-1e09XfOQx7S4gdo6O27rhYuVVGnxaV7/s768/Chinese%20Dragon.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt6bxlyK5Gv6Sw0vg-GxtDYTybTpg6ZeurCXWRhFxemxvzBY0kvgfZsHfOOC5YwK7MmO-Sol2pbxPPTThDnJs_r3-VB_huUpRVXR0ejk2zLZdI40czCfSr4EhHo9MGmVPaFvKtklPAS0nb4nzaeT2QH6L803Vs-1e09XfOQx7S4gdo6O27rhYuVVGnxaV7/s320/Chinese%20Dragon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Welcome
to the year of the Dragon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Here’s
hoping that for all of us it will be a happy and productive one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
don’t know why but dragons have always held a fascination for me. One of the
first stories I ever made up was about a dragon called Roostance who lived
under my bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roostance was fat and did
all sorts of things he shouldn’t while his sister, or was she his friend, who
lived under my sister’s bed, was a much better behaved creature. Anuk listened to these stories when we were both supposed to be asleep and much later she drew
me a sketch of a happy little green dragon which I have on the wall of my
office. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Dragons
also play a part in The Adventures of Letty Parker. During the day they
masquerade as downspouts and door knockers but at night they take wing and fly
through the city in search of dark deeds which they will relay to the gargoyles
squatting on the roofs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Then
of course there are the Dragonfire books. The first ones I self-published and in
which all the leading characters are based on members of my family−with their
permission of course. I’m very fond of these and am considering republishing
them in the near future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Apart
from the literary dragons in my life, there’s a dragon in my garden asleep by
the pond, another proudly displaying its strength in the dining room and a set
of smaller ones on my desk. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So
far the start of this calendar year has not been too brilliant for me. Fingers
crossed that dragons will work their magic and things will improve forthwith. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p></p>mishahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02817380292408084414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-42807591690049728602024-02-10T14:31:00.005+00:002024-02-11T10:38:45.647+00:00In a White Room with Black Curtains Near the Station -- Dianne Pearce<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4q6ManABWzMbd8keXOHAcNLnQxZ8I_Otey-HPvIyizeDEqSa8O4j_QvtTLVOMH9X8Cp2nIp-m6JdGz0daO9Ymb08CfRKXP8IgA-b3LNDR0xiejZwGaVSsJemOgtxZWkvflH97rH-tC5BXYZwihVooBJ0d4sCJzFUSuW4uctttxA-HR9jtk31aSHPt9Up/s512/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%204.36.26%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="512" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4q6ManABWzMbd8keXOHAcNLnQxZ8I_Otey-HPvIyizeDEqSa8O4j_QvtTLVOMH9X8Cp2nIp-m6JdGz0daO9Ymb08CfRKXP8IgA-b3LNDR0xiejZwGaVSsJemOgtxZWkvflH97rH-tC5BXYZwihVooBJ0d4sCJzFUSuW4uctttxA-HR9jtk31aSHPt9Up/s320/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%204.36.26%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />This fabulous song by Cream has been in my mind this week, primarily because of the first line of the lyrics, which is the title of this post.<p></p><p>I work as an editor, and over the past week have edited a mystery novel, one collection of short stories that are acting as a novel when put together, and five mini pieces from five different authors as part of a small workshop I held, and they were one mystery, two sci-fi/speculative, two memoir/non-fiction. And as part of this week's editing I have encountered a few times what I have come to think of as "the white room," and with that, because that is just how my mind works, the Cream song quickly follows (I do love that song, so maybe any excuse? I mean, those lyrics are great!) Other than containing the white room, the Cream song doesn't actually apply here, but maybe it will help us remember the concept.</p><p>And perhaps a famous author we have all heard of was also inspired by the Cream song, because she is the correct age to be so influenced, and because look at this director's rendering of her vision:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqntnAfeeva2xc9RA7Pps9KfXzVHSf0_6BWiY6S9ZEcW9N_hZqOWOVCoAmCRkjDLxVvxMwqI0Hj4xtL2loDQiYZfdI9fzxBDk1OZJrcPkdoRInCympE3GAIx_huaeM0pITHPMBP8QwnaoCC0qWj5pbnHIhGPfNkTgfOZKdApMA_KcNY9ho9X3eayOe7Cv/s486/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%204.49.42%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="486" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqntnAfeeva2xc9RA7Pps9KfXzVHSf0_6BWiY6S9ZEcW9N_hZqOWOVCoAmCRkjDLxVvxMwqI0Hj4xtL2loDQiYZfdI9fzxBDk1OZJrcPkdoRInCympE3GAIx_huaeM0pITHPMBP8QwnaoCC0qWj5pbnHIhGPfNkTgfOZKdApMA_KcNY9ho9X3eayOe7Cv/s320/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%204.49.42%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>There's no black curtains, but it is a white room, not near, but <i>in</i> the station. Kings Cross?<div><br /><div>So, in the above photo, for the characters in that story, being in the white room is not a bad thing, but, even at that, they cannot stay there forever. Some of the pieces I worked with this week were attempting to do that; they arrived, for reading, in the white room, and they never left.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think, to understand where I'm heading, I would like you to remember a conversation you might have with a friend at a coffee shop, in your living room, walking through a store. You probably were not in a white room, and you probably did not get to say what you wanted to say without being interrupted by the person listening, or by ambient noises or smells or sights around you, that sort of thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>The best way I can think of to have that same conversation you are remembering in the white room is to get on a call, preferably on a landline, and to begin to tell your friend a story. Here is how to do it: Your friend must answer the phone without speaking, so there are no words, but also no phone ringing. Just quiet, but you assume someone is there. You may stop for breath, but not long enough for your friend to comment. You must just start telling a story, "Well, I went to get my hair cut last week," and keep going for an uncomfortable amount of minutes. And when you finish, you say, "Goodbye," and hang up before your friend can respond.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was brilliant on the kitchen phone when I was fifteen, long spiral cord wrapped around the turn from our kitchen to our dining room and again from our dining room into my mother's beloved formal living room. I could do the dance of conversation with my friends lightly, and never step on a toe because I knew it was Renee's turn to talk, then mine, then Renee tells me something else, and we laugh, but not too much because then I need to be able to speak, and we go back and forth, just as these girls are doing:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3WFp-lQQbly9jY1SSd2RRajOsbcvOgifhWBQBj1d9ySUCYJC5ouKwlebsawqKYetwGVx1-nglW48NuCURXsP3LLTEe9x0MqVCrdWu57zk1JUy7y9cIxSoixntDztwmrBH0sC__bYdbCcMQJ2QuvYCD2jRy8uEFJa9W-XsEWTxglC8fWLSewZQew1_HS2F/s834/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.11.47%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="834" data-original-width="668" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3WFp-lQQbly9jY1SSd2RRajOsbcvOgifhWBQBj1d9ySUCYJC5ouKwlebsawqKYetwGVx1-nglW48NuCURXsP3LLTEe9x0MqVCrdWu57zk1JUy7y9cIxSoixntDztwmrBH0sC__bYdbCcMQJ2QuvYCD2jRy8uEFJa9W-XsEWTxglC8fWLSewZQew1_HS2F/s320/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.11.47%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="256" /></a></div><br /><div>and Renee has seen my mother's living room, and I have seen her mother's, so we each know where the other is, and what is likely to be going on: both loading the dinner dishes into the dishwasher because it is our chore, and we do it on the phone together every night, retreating back and forth into our respective living rooms when the conversation requires more privacy. But, being on a phone call like that, working like a well-oiled conversation machine, is rare, and requires a deep connection so that you don't step on each other's toes.</div><div><br /></div><div>The white room is like a phone call, but Harry, Dumbledore, Renee, or Jack Bruce (vocalist of Cream) are not on the other end of the line, and there is no way to tell if anyone is there, or where the message is being received, or if it even is. And that is what I saw a lot in the pieces I worked on editing this week, stories that existed in the white room.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stories in the white room means that a narrator, first person or otherwise, is narrating, and no one else is doing much of anything. Someone begins a non-fiction piece describing trees, goes on to write about human activity, continues with thoughts on the natural world, but never once says, "Oh, dear reader, I am here, in this place, and the reason I am saying this is, and the people I am saying this to are...." In another piece a character, a first-person narrator, starts discussing his childhood, describing it in great detail, then goes on to tell about his relationship with his father, and keeps going to describe a particularly unpleasant date, which is where the story ends. In no sentence does the author give a scene, a reason for the stories being told in the first place, a setting, any dialogue, or any indication of an observer or listener. </div><div><br /></div><div>Kids of a certain age (ten and under?) do this to their parents. They come out of school bursting to tell some story, and they proceed to tell it, laughing uproariously the whole time, and parents understand that the story will mean nothing to them, but the telling of it is the child re-experiencing some good time, and is really a one-person event.</div><div><br /></div><div>In writing, though, we need more. We really cannot tell a good story, do a good muse on nature, even write a good poem, IMHO, without putting it into a context of some sort. There have to be surroundings; there may need to be a listener to the story if it is being told. Often we can help our readers if we give a reason for the story to be told in the first place. </div><div><br /></div><div>So if you should not try to tell with no scene, no observer, how did this guy get away with it?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfg0krjs6YyZFMBHMrDsUWNBQrjt3ioNsCTa042KYKPoROVe83UNBSdZhsYRsdxAyqlRylIqZ4HOTSfpXNlpNFlEEqY6hEYNai3S8McirkGZilJ0aiQl854xsoQbztzcc7Ffla1aNCUTMQ5rR7bU86zlUmM91RuA_aKKHJx99oSOUUXRv_xoP0n4qNsrX/s1286/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.45.12%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="640" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfg0krjs6YyZFMBHMrDsUWNBQrjt3ioNsCTa042KYKPoROVe83UNBSdZhsYRsdxAyqlRylIqZ4HOTSfpXNlpNFlEEqY6hEYNai3S8McirkGZilJ0aiQl854xsoQbztzcc7Ffla1aNCUTMQ5rR7bU86zlUmM91RuA_aKKHJx99oSOUUXRv_xoP0n4qNsrX/w253-h510/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.45.12%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="253" /></a></div><br /><div>Many of the images I see for that soliloquy look like this:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgkjE3__fxN5UydsFRDwrM0hGJF1-bnVap8OWrzungKxpqJweMx1G9e7y1UA2WzwX1THnER1Jd0R6Ehr9xkyirA37NPOu_UfHml7uCavGQhu2Xabqghc8cET1BhJ0unzcQ8dNo9WnfJjXsbbPZ_GA9NV-4-CHcmnvdwSm7w5bZfHyFoD8lcTYoW9SgYCE/s632/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.49.06%E2%80%AFAM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="632" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwgkjE3__fxN5UydsFRDwrM0hGJF1-bnVap8OWrzungKxpqJweMx1G9e7y1UA2WzwX1THnER1Jd0R6Ehr9xkyirA37NPOu_UfHml7uCavGQhu2Xabqghc8cET1BhJ0unzcQ8dNo9WnfJjXsbbPZ_GA9NV-4-CHcmnvdwSm7w5bZfHyFoD8lcTYoW9SgYCE/s320/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%205.49.06%E2%80%AFAM.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>But <a href="https://www.shakespearegeek.com/2014/11/hamlet-put-down-skull.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">this guy</a> says there isn't a skull in the original, and that perhaps actors kept forgetting to put the skull down, and it ended up being a thing. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a funny idea, but why would actors have wanted to keep the skull? Because it's not great being in the white room. Luckily for Hamlet, he is an actor, and his soliloquy is designed to be performed, not read silently to oneself, and so he is not really in a white room when he does it, and he may hold a skull, or walk around, or do other things to enliven a fairly good-sized speech.</div><div><br /></div><div>But in general, a story cannot be fictional character Margaret retelling what her wedding was like, or memoir Ben musing about the first time he was stung by a bee, or omniscient Ollie telling a tale of a bank heist, without some context. We need a scene, not an empty stage; we need a listener or observer, even if it is only a skull that the narrator holds in his/her/their hands. We need movement, or, if the narrator is immobile, we need some remarks on that, the discomfort in the glutes, maybe. I'm having that right now. The author can, but perhaps should think better of, simply saying, "Once upon a time I had a splinter in my foot. So I went to the drugstore and bought some tweezers, and once I had limped back home, I sat on the sofa and removed my shoe. And, from there, it was rather easy to pull out the wood. And it was very small, and sharp, and I am glad I was able to retrieve it before it worked its way deep into my foot. The end."</div><div><br /></div><div>What? Who are you? Why are you telling this story? Who are you telling it to? What do I need to know about you? Why do I care? And so many more questions I could ask....</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a reason no Disney princesses have viable parents: it's easier on the story not to have to deal with them, but it makes the story less good.</div><div><br /></div><div>You cannot treat your story, fiction or non-fiction, like a Disney princess. It needs... perhaps an origin, or a context, a time and place, maybe a character beyond the narrator, possibly that last one even if it is non-fiction and the narrator is <i>you</i>. I know that often getting a whole story down can be tough, and we may begin by just telling: this happened and then this and then this and then this and then the end. Fair enough. But then we have to go back in and bring it to life. Nothing can exist in the white room for long. Even though we're intrigued by Harry and Dumbledore being in a misty and ethereal Kings Cross it only works because they are there together, and they do not stay long.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't you stay there either. ;)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/V5BF1V1pbTs" width="320" youtube-src-id="V5BF1V1pbTs"></iframe></div></div>Dianne Pearcehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17184391408486013783noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-51424756584087139332024-02-09T00:00:00.111+00:002024-02-09T11:09:54.896+00:00A Week of Three Libraries -- Julia Jones<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57IuVbVoBhK0upvZ49w-hAn7IyzUoZU6jhBs3L1PuXmZzOTFJLwHkRpqTrRbiNDQrp0mUWR0Dw0RHOZxIyYDjq33zu2UqC-_4AHflZ1jNoK_Fs_AnfkvGPz5dbCQAmhLpcPgEGw9vX37rUc9Pj6F_AxlniFnG60KlSlThW0PxXRkJbhDEWF9311iSpB38/s922/IMG_20240208_161822687.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; letter-spacing: -0.333333px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="808" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57IuVbVoBhK0upvZ49w-hAn7IyzUoZU6jhBs3L1PuXmZzOTFJLwHkRpqTrRbiNDQrp0mUWR0Dw0RHOZxIyYDjq33zu2UqC-_4AHflZ1jNoK_Fs_AnfkvGPz5dbCQAmhLpcPgEGw9vX37rUc9Pj6F_AxlniFnG60KlSlThW0PxXRkJbhDEWF9311iSpB38/w175-h200/IMG_20240208_161822687.jpg" width="175" /></a>A coot scurried away across the basin, feet paddling
furiously, a wary eye peering astern as I left the library building and paused at the
edge of the dock, looking over its quiet space. I was naturally pleased to see the
coot but was almost more interested in the colour of the water. Last time I was here
Limehouse Basin was an unpleasant emerald green, algae visibly choking life beneath its surface.
That word ‘e<span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">utrophication’ that I’ve relatively recently learned, sounds like
suffocation, asphyxiation, atrophy, all in one killer blanket. There’s no beauty in water which looks like mown grass. </span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3tnh1Jfo16SuzRvbadqdrPgtXPXtrSQwgnnAjGddzuLSw3pmnfJya8G-YsOZ1PF5XUvcCMn2fpVQ3IoCIieFbpV_u7d4RFtrftw0ispsoiUqmYF7H5kPAg2xu_wo8KSWQ59S3T36YY9LEjU1TvN8SKq1rf4Y9FqHS59lvN_VoerNyg4LYeR2AbVRV9kM/s4624/IMG_20240208_112334248_HDR.jpg" style="clear: right; letter-spacing: -0.333333px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3tnh1Jfo16SuzRvbadqdrPgtXPXtrSQwgnnAjGddzuLSw3pmnfJya8G-YsOZ1PF5XUvcCMn2fpVQ3IoCIieFbpV_u7d4RFtrftw0ispsoiUqmYF7H5kPAg2xu_wo8KSWQ59S3T36YY9LEjU1TvN8SKq1rf4Y9FqHS59lvN_VoerNyg4LYeR2AbVRV9kM/w150-h200/IMG_20240208_112334248_HDR.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>View from CA library</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">It was worth upsetting the coot to stand still in the February
drizzle when I'd finished work and welcome this (temporary?) improvement in the water colour. It’s
still not blue or grey – or even </span><i style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">caffe latte</i><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> East Coast brown but it’s
better than it was. (Feb 8th 2024) </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">Inside the Cruising Association library I'd been picking through the shelves like
a godwit plunging its beak in the mud. I was looking for books by women
sailors, people with sufficient self-belief to consider their experience was
worth recording – and who’d found publishers who thought the same.</span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">Slim pickings though tasty ones. I haven’t
done a scientific analysis of how many dozen book spines one scans to find a
woman author’s name - 40:1 maybe?. </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> Today I'd</span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> checked very early editions of
Lloyds Register of Yachts to count the numbers of c19th women who owned their own
boats.</span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">In 1878 (the first volume in the CA library
collection) there were 4 women out of 1225 yacht owners, in 1883 16 out of
2530</span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">-- which my maths tells me is a
better % but would leave me a very hungry godwit if they were all I had to feed
on.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr34YMU8xMO9kQtEs-vPtXB9-JoqEWjyyvG35xauX4gXbuEk9EQ_eHf6EZLam6nJzIv_MKtgYB-IECN5VSCX9FPDEksjO9zoMkqMmz3LZQ7nXBoNvPCRsZmpXmm9YufBvQPLhpJxrMSyiSNBnb_vgQCr_650f6zCdXLa491kv48NLS7pkuIyf4zBY6rQmH/s3472/Lloyds%20register.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2341" data-original-width="3472" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr34YMU8xMO9kQtEs-vPtXB9-JoqEWjyyvG35xauX4gXbuEk9EQ_eHf6EZLam6nJzIv_MKtgYB-IECN5VSCX9FPDEksjO9zoMkqMmz3LZQ7nXBoNvPCRsZmpXmm9YufBvQPLhpJxrMSyiSNBnb_vgQCr_650f6zCdXLa491kv48NLS7pkuIyf4zBY6rQmH/s320/Lloyds%20register.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"><div><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"><br /></span></div>These early owners were typically very rich women (themselves a rare species) who
owned large yachts with crew but don’t seem to have troubled themselves to put
pen to paper. Other women -- wives, sisters, the rare lone women -- have done better, The earliest cruising reminiscence I found on this occasion was from a vicar’s wife named Maude Speed whose
cruising reminiscences were published in 1911 but go back to 1885 when she and
her husband cruised together in a 2 ½ ton sailing canoe. </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"> </span><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">They would remain on board for seven weeks at
a time. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">‘<i>My bed was a canvas mattress stuffed with corks on the floor – a brilliant
idea of the skipper’s as he said it made a bed by night and a life-buoy in case
of disaster, while my bolster was the jib in its little bag. I thought that the
awful discomfort and sleeplessness I went through was inseparable from small
boat cruising and tried heroically to harden myself into liking it, but looking
back on that experience I would risk drowning twenty times over than go through
it again!’ </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">(<i>A Yachtswoman’s Cruises</i> by Maude Speed).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the apparent absence of women from the
water is not so surprising after all.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">Yet every so often my beak comes up with a plump and lively lugworm or I
stop pretending to be an assiduous godwit and turn into an avaricious seaside
gull, as ready to snatch the chips from a picnicker's hand as to bother flying
out to sea to fish for my own dinner. The Little Ship Club, tucked under
Blackfriars Bridge with the Thames rushing by has a perfectly good library, an enthusiastic volunteer librarian and a chart room where I spend happy hours reading though the
club journals. This week, however, I persuaded two wise women, Katy Stickland and
Janet Grosvenor, to settle on the LSC classically clubroom leather sofa and just
talk while I listened. I’m not normally one for audio books but when they are
as interesting as those two all I wanted to do was wing it back to the chart
room when they’d gone and try to write down everything they said.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQPdOMeJXvuCQz3MwVfhhLtMyXhDO72cQGH02TLtPXcQz-JCayWOQz4jYpvLC3hl5fFtgk0ocI1j86E35uQLM3Je7DBmqNeEXvO5ZV2He00bTgF5Omrc2HEijEkSHjKlzidkJT_KOPhVZPa7GgR5XOO5m3xDKhr3Ljd6qzga36Hy8ZrqprOZqf8xamYye/s4624/LSC%20cabin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3472" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfQPdOMeJXvuCQz3MwVfhhLtMyXhDO72cQGH02TLtPXcQz-JCayWOQz4jYpvLC3hl5fFtgk0ocI1j86E35uQLM3Je7DBmqNeEXvO5ZV2He00bTgF5Omrc2HEijEkSHjKlzidkJT_KOPhVZPa7GgR5XOO5m3xDKhr3Ljd6qzga36Hy8ZrqprOZqf8xamYye/w300-h400/LSC%20cabin.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: x-small;"><i>Little Ship Club cabin<br />If you look out of the window you see the Thames</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;"><br /></span><div><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt;">The following day I felt more like a city pigeon hopping dustily on the
pavement outside the Royal Thames Yacht Club in Knightsbridge. It was actually
quite hard to summon the courage to go in, but once through the plate glass
doors I was swiftly ushered into the small safe space that is the RCC (Royal
Cruising Club) library. There I was made as welcome as a smooth-feathered dove
returning from Mount Ararat -- or at least that’s how Jane Russell made me feel as she produced the keys that unlocked the
cupboards where membership lists and other archive treasures were kept. I soon
forgot to coo politely and was filling my beak with the information she and vice-Commodore
Tim Trafford were tossing my way.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Tim, poor fellow, was in the library trying to plan his next summer’s
Atlantic cruise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he runs into an
uncharted cave, snags his main mast on its roof then sinks with a hold full of
gold, it’ll lie heavy on my conscience. (That’s the <i>General Grant</i> shipwreck in the
Auckland Islands so don’t worry, wrong hemisphere.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There also was a woman working steadily in the
Cruising Association library, today, using charts and pilot books to plan some future passage.
I love that combination of looking back to adventures of the past and forward
to future voyages. I didn’t disturb her.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">So, on this weather-bound February evening with rain spitting
at the window and schools elsewhere closed for snow, let me share this delightful
little fragment of verse which actress Nancy Price chose (or wrote?) to open <i>The Gull’s
Way</i>, her account of a cruise with her husband and a professional skipper along the East Coast of England. It was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>published in 1937.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">But while upon my legs
I'm free<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Out in the sunshine I
intend<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">To dine with God prodigiously</span></i><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKT1GmVP8EoGQpzEmRulULpFXSUkWezLq7ZQycHd0t7jueuK-HAzHKbvR3wjPOGUFvDqr_1uixtZnKLXbVOFeSvfYfWAtuKqnbQ0hpjf_tBr_0zLBpfZAxhZVE71HeVzhXjJxYTjaY0EttBPLdv1uak5XAuo5PhW5v6LWSVL1nbNoru5lhLEnXaol2xEF/s382/Nancy_Price_1900s.jpg" style="letter-spacing: -0.333333px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtKT1GmVP8EoGQpzEmRulULpFXSUkWezLq7ZQycHd0t7jueuK-HAzHKbvR3wjPOGUFvDqr_1uixtZnKLXbVOFeSvfYfWAtuKqnbQ0hpjf_tBr_0zLBpfZAxhZVE71HeVzhXjJxYTjaY0EttBPLdv1uak5XAuo5PhW5v6LWSVL1nbNoru5lhLEnXaol2xEF/s320/Nancy_Price_1900s.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>Nancy Price (1880-1970)<br />Actress, author, theatre director -- and coastal sailor</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; letter-spacing: -0.25pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-iE_wrX7W73ySR6IaKtIctPnuqolPEzoucHczGnBu7J01w0h_ZpiZ990Ee29Fqztv9uYCFa76gqK72VeP0FsFZ8NhxHM1pba5bTOmSRd5Qb1CnvmBVYgX12B9oYaFydwnoxG5cLIAbqkzB5zpMlGyTcgIhyphenhyphenAmsMayc18eF9WfRt-t_WsHO7RbHUOMZhvJ/s3277/IMG_20240208_0001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1966" data-original-width="3277" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-iE_wrX7W73ySR6IaKtIctPnuqolPEzoucHczGnBu7J01w0h_ZpiZ990Ee29Fqztv9uYCFa76gqK72VeP0FsFZ8NhxHM1pba5bTOmSRd5Qb1CnvmBVYgX12B9oYaFydwnoxG5cLIAbqkzB5zpMlGyTcgIhyphenhyphenAmsMayc18eF9WfRt-t_WsHO7RbHUOMZhvJ/w640-h384/IMG_20240208_0001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><i>'Stormy Weather' by Maude Speed, vicar's wife, sailor, artist</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>julia joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09773900100240758504noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-82350772499553420322024-02-07T00:00:00.001+00:002024-02-07T00:00:00.144+00:00February Update -- Joy Kluver<p>In my January post, I wrote about a few things I was doing to help banish the blues. Did they work? Well, not quite but compared to other Januaries, I did fare better.</p><p>First off - my writing. I've reached the point with my MS where I need another pair of eyes on it. I have a beta reader who's the first to see my books. An avid reader and former police officer, she's great at picking up mistakes. I still have some more research to do but my goal of sending DI Bernie Noel 4 to my editor by the end of February is still on track. And I've just secured a copy editor/proofreader who will do both of those things for me. My cover designer has come up with a great idea too, so it feels like things are coming together. Now, I just have to get my head around creating a newsletter and finding subscribers, building a better website and trying to work out how to do Facebook ads!</p><p>The other idea that's mulling in my head is still there and requires some more thinking!</p><p>I've started the writing group at West Barnes Library and, including me, we had ten people for our first session. It was lovely to connect with other writers again and encourage one another. It brought back fond memories of writing classes with Elizabeth Kay and N.M. Browne. I'm not teaching though, as I consider this a group rather than a class. Hopefully, we can all share our experiences together.</p><p>Choir! At time of writing, I've only had one session. The conductor is very enthusiastic and it was nice to be singing again. Having said that, my voice is in pretty poor condition at the moment and needs a lot of work. I have one more free session to go and then I have to decide whether to join or not. I'll let you know next month! When I left choir, I saw the moon had a halo around it. Anyone else see this?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAtAmrI9LZU8m4KQFeMMuSBxiRE_uYbZnpiVhCky2qmGS_YPV-fs0jXR9l1a5-oUtb9gBzLlNEmoRXQRN5Y8GjARp-xixSoQMpcKg4oFn5LcItTT81gAZ7dBnjkgu8Adsu_Yv3pnTzrB0ht391gMwJytwUSgzuVjr-XPAQQTKigH1_dF-v9R5ERdkYdOVK/s1920/Moon%20with%20halo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAtAmrI9LZU8m4KQFeMMuSBxiRE_uYbZnpiVhCky2qmGS_YPV-fs0jXR9l1a5-oUtb9gBzLlNEmoRXQRN5Y8GjARp-xixSoQMpcKg4oFn5LcItTT81gAZ7dBnjkgu8Adsu_Yv3pnTzrB0ht391gMwJytwUSgzuVjr-XPAQQTKigH1_dF-v9R5ERdkYdOVK/s320/Moon%20with%20halo.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Joy Kluverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538085294161684288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-50822305403509919462024-02-05T00:30:00.099+00:002024-02-05T00:30:00.248+00:00Wading through Treacle, or Why Didn't I get it Right the First Time (Cecilia Peartree)<p>Either because of an inevitable slowing down that comes with age, or because of various seasonal factors, it has taken me far longer than I wanted to finish the edits for my latest novel. Of course I hope it's just the latter, and in fact I do have a full set of excuses to hand, ranging from having to collate and send out the paperwork for an AGM held inexplicably in mid-December, to the largest radiator in the house having sprung a leak about the same time, just as the weather turned colder and we had a series of winter storms. Because of the resulting low temperatures downstairs in our house I have had to spend more time upstairs than usual, and as a result of this I've almost never had the right computer in the right place with all the notebooks, diaries etc that I rely on to keep myself on track. At the time of writing the heating engineers have just replaced the radiator with a very nice new one so I am hoping that's the signal for my brain to come out of hibernation, coinciding as it does with the festival of Imbolc. The car has now broken down instead, but that's another story.</p><p>The novel I've been working on is the sequel to a mystery I published early last year, which at least means I can recycle some of the characters, not that doing that necessarily means I can keep track of their names any more easily! I also discovered during the edit that the chapters were very uneven in length, there were numerous occasions when people either told each other things several times or not at all, and one or two of them had acquired an annoying habit of starting each bit of dialogue with the word 'So'. There are people in real life who do this and it's nearly as annoying there as it is in a novel.</p><p>I think the last straw was when I found they'd been eating sandwiches at all hours of the day and night! Attacked in the shrubbery? I'll just make you a couple of ham sandwiches. Broken up with your partner? Sandwiches will help with that! Explaining everything to the rest of the characters? Best done with a plate of sandwiches to hand. I am actually not very keen on sandwiches myself, being more likely to eat cheese and crackers as a quick meal or even cheese and crisps if I feel even lazier, so I don't know where all these sandwiches have come from. Still, in one of my other mystery series they tend to binge on doughnuts at regular intervals, so perhaps the sandwiches are my idea of keeping my characters healthy, or my subconscious trying to keep me from the really bad stuff.</p><p>Anyway, I am about to publish the novel in question, entitled 'The Watcher in the Shrubbery'. I am slightly anxious about this, as the first novel in the (so far very short series) involved an accident at Cramond, and not very long after publishing it I had an accident not very far from there. This current one starts with a tree falling on someone's conservatory, and as I write this, there is a tree looming over our conservatory, so I just hope I'm not tempting Fate. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCAGcg7zOKzP3Iddy2TUgVbD0DYUm_lo3iQgqcdcWho3UMuE6dY-H_wFrbg5m98JQ5r7P3WMF7YXLgxVUtv6lz8KVkcYRVG_TfRgUM7oXwQy6tbf0pTyy7DhBLI4Y1I4FbHrCc59QC8JWtZD-nKWRN6EZpVOH6aikLxTpD1aG1YqL447SER1K20I6XkQ/s2250/the%20watcher%20in%20the%20shrubbery.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1410" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCAGcg7zOKzP3Iddy2TUgVbD0DYUm_lo3iQgqcdcWho3UMuE6dY-H_wFrbg5m98JQ5r7P3WMF7YXLgxVUtv6lz8KVkcYRVG_TfRgUM7oXwQy6tbf0pTyy7DhBLI4Y1I4FbHrCc59QC8JWtZD-nKWRN6EZpVOH6aikLxTpD1aG1YqL447SER1K20I6XkQ/w251-h400/the%20watcher%20in%20the%20shrubbery.png" width="251" /></a></div><br /><p>Next week I shall be taking part in a podcast on the theme of inspirations. I've never had anything to do with a podcast before, so I might feed back on that next month.</p>Cecilia Peartreehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16212743025054798695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2429560125838989988.post-38806382391130495292024-02-04T00:00:00.009+00:002024-02-04T00:00:00.134+00:00The Anatomy of a Book Table -- Sarah Nicholson<p>Last month I told you about choosing a cover for my memoir.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This month I want to tell you about my book launch, or more
specifically how to set out a display table for an event.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In my past I have created displays for a charity shop window
so I like to think I have a good grasp on how to make something look appealing
especially when pulling together an eclectic mix of ephemera.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This skill certainly came in handy when I had to make a
display with NO BOOKS!<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDpA2ZLwioMpOc4hGDv-EpTWemQIKgyt_bHCyHKBdYzpDGt1etzxNdcrSHzhJ5FohZAEcVAFzO8lb6ZCyWMDNA-mFpcBWELqwwvwSleH5GN7aOz-Hw4kX0qbnXY9ycQiFw1AsZrAosjiXY-FimIjRBG6DAcHauTKgio1qHhxN1qBcsYgkJU1FrAI49zY/s1280/20240131_204547.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="894" data-original-width="1280" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDDpA2ZLwioMpOc4hGDv-EpTWemQIKgyt_bHCyHKBdYzpDGt1etzxNdcrSHzhJ5FohZAEcVAFzO8lb6ZCyWMDNA-mFpcBWELqwwvwSleH5GN7aOz-Hw4kX0qbnXY9ycQiFw1AsZrAosjiXY-FimIjRBG6DAcHauTKgio1qHhxN1qBcsYgkJU1FrAI49zY/s320/20240131_204547.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't even have enough Os to write OOPS!</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">Yes, I held a bookless book launch. Maybe not the first ever
but this is how to pull it off with aplomb.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I must just say it was my own fault for not ordering the
books on time but my memoir is about grief and loss following the unexpected
death of my husband. It is about making the best of things when something goes
wrong, searching for the lost glitter that sparkles.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s quite ironic really.” Said my youngest son, with a
wisdom beyond his years.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I started my display with some sparkle – a gold glittery
tablecloth, well at least a piece of gold fabric from the local haberdashers.
I’ll hem the edges I thought, but of course I didn’t. Too much of a faff and
the selvedge edges had a nice tinselly look about them.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQEm-uLkJoN4JxfcGI9UuVrSg4bpYu4zvMapJ1DsAqN-NViMSQGHgHrY6LwEualjHvYpzYyFFxIUgK6JiRM9UFN8-LZz-r_ynSoJgDZ7Ccs3GKnJ5OUkndcCXRco4y6ZozfG5nhuvfTfiyGPwN8ORn0JCAVH7g1tpfSstYCc6w8gwgkR_xwubKRV1EPQ/s3174/20240131_204057.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3174" data-original-width="2084" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQEm-uLkJoN4JxfcGI9UuVrSg4bpYu4zvMapJ1DsAqN-NViMSQGHgHrY6LwEualjHvYpzYyFFxIUgK6JiRM9UFN8-LZz-r_ynSoJgDZ7Ccs3GKnJ5OUkndcCXRco4y6ZozfG5nhuvfTfiyGPwN8ORn0JCAVH7g1tpfSstYCc6w8gwgkR_xwubKRV1EPQ/s320/20240131_204057.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't go wrong with a bit of sparkle</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">I created some commemorative book marks, garnished with
sparkly wool from the same haberdashery shop. Each one was hand threaded while
I watched Grey’s Anatomy – that’s probably where the inspiration for today’s
title came from.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv-PWcl3aMu_poNyMykwXoGtJJuoTC8FMmuQ2570-QA156oq6lMWchltxPoDhqi5tpCMDdtTpF9mZVmvINGpLB44IFlAklUi_Azp-w0-sQD0Fsv_eHo2r6vGqwc1sfdGGnjjBYesg9GLF_Crz3ej3nRz-l2IhP7EYE3JXw0R3pQkBI2BB_bRwCzPjWp8/s3265/20240113_125549.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3265" data-original-width="2084" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv-PWcl3aMu_poNyMykwXoGtJJuoTC8FMmuQ2570-QA156oq6lMWchltxPoDhqi5tpCMDdtTpF9mZVmvINGpLB44IFlAklUi_Azp-w0-sQD0Fsv_eHo2r6vGqwc1sfdGGnjjBYesg9GLF_Crz3ej3nRz-l2IhP7EYE3JXw0R3pQkBI2BB_bRwCzPjWp8/s320/20240113_125549.jpg" width="204" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I went to the book launch with NO BOOKS <br />and all I got was this bookmark!</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">I added some objects I had written about, the first photo of
Andrew and I with our firstborn. Andrew is wearing a sweatshirt which I
recycled after his death into a bag.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SWbKmCZLnf_t9fpoJmSmKWBs7q-cHmFLFwasVFqfA7ofmUxl6FkAEz-ZCkaeyqM1Iia5_FlMhsC9vdFBSLI7VXbKfTAgxf8Wy4shT4Yjhm0nxbtxFVi0XUXhujuKmelqZ33jtG-ujRZdLjJFgvhzlsoeiikAzE1-5xqyPJGvocifmUk_CUBlOGLifcM/s1554/20240131_204608.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1554" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SWbKmCZLnf_t9fpoJmSmKWBs7q-cHmFLFwasVFqfA7ofmUxl6FkAEz-ZCkaeyqM1Iia5_FlMhsC9vdFBSLI7VXbKfTAgxf8Wy4shT4Yjhm0nxbtxFVi0XUXhujuKmelqZ33jtG-ujRZdLjJFgvhzlsoeiikAzE1-5xqyPJGvocifmUk_CUBlOGLifcM/s320/20240131_204608.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You are murdering dad's sweatshirt!" cried youngest son</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">There is a record from Andrew’s extensive vinyl collection
from when he used to be a DJ. Number 777 is Don’t Leave Me This Way by the
Communards, a favourite song of mine to dance to while at university. I also
found the invite we had made for Andrew’s fiftieth birthday
party, although he never made it to 50 we used it as an excuse to celebrate his life and surviving a year without him.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1tfyU9aCtaBmfpecwvbogRmktRPXsPXvmkWQ5LESpPa2CEYPrV8MgsfUVtF5y-CFqNCGyfmNPzAk4nADSa2wcgADvaTMNPFiyeszN1IKVZsNYbXyIvB6jr43tgoIu26yZbbuw-FUbfUPiuoMx7QrMIt94z_6xAOraMrbaSDbVH6i5O6qlY2LF_Qx43M/s2289/20240131_204204.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2289" data-original-width="2066" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1tfyU9aCtaBmfpecwvbogRmktRPXsPXvmkWQ5LESpPa2CEYPrV8MgsfUVtF5y-CFqNCGyfmNPzAk4nADSa2wcgADvaTMNPFiyeszN1IKVZsNYbXyIvB6jr43tgoIu26yZbbuw-FUbfUPiuoMx7QrMIt94z_6xAOraMrbaSDbVH6i5O6qlY2LF_Qx43M/s320/20240131_204204.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I remember the party we had for his 45th birthday - a bring a 45 party</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">There is a stone with the word SOULMATE engraved on it which
I bought him on a trip to Chicago with the boys. He didn’t want to travel, he
found it too difficult. I missed him every day we were away.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgin1R32yhmD22lKEEkyOalHg7BYM-S6FIE1ojMp6AITABci694GZwwJItPu013naqfTIqE-QHqqhg9fgZe4ANndN7Vw_FwAaNUz7QW4J13oVixNjXmMLQm5x8roTEpjw1Cp-X-ho-QpxNj1VNbBArfEj_bSCudgVS0luhSdwPdPMY2ygrYWFnhJ4xx-qk/s1816/20240131_204023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1772" data-original-width="1816" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgin1R32yhmD22lKEEkyOalHg7BYM-S6FIE1ojMp6AITABci694GZwwJItPu013naqfTIqE-QHqqhg9fgZe4ANndN7Vw_FwAaNUz7QW4J13oVixNjXmMLQm5x8roTEpjw1Cp-X-ho-QpxNj1VNbBArfEj_bSCudgVS0luhSdwPdPMY2ygrYWFnhJ4xx-qk/s320/20240131_204023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">An original drawing by my talented niece @oliviarose_design
which is on the back cover. Andrew and I are on Redcar beach, maybe not the
most romantic of seaside resorts, but we are looking out to sea in perfect step
with each other.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXWVuqb0kx-_RUDCTONaP1xamigAUxykBFRqGlLgGUnN1qronEKvpedTzVVl1oHKMjQxx2I8Um7v-WTI6DPbwPVv91lFwvwlbufqVI9zFAuvzherC_-1_w8o1ILJkvzhjX-HzvOGTuLhVvt4cX1_qvcCpGVDI-fGaY0uNuyhkZ5xqQ232GnB6AIkRYrk/s2965/20240131_204921.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="2965" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisXWVuqb0kx-_RUDCTONaP1xamigAUxykBFRqGlLgGUnN1qronEKvpedTzVVl1oHKMjQxx2I8Um7v-WTI6DPbwPVv91lFwvwlbufqVI9zFAuvzherC_-1_w8o1ILJkvzhjX-HzvOGTuLhVvt4cX1_qvcCpGVDI-fGaY0uNuyhkZ5xqQ232GnB6AIkRYrk/s320/20240131_204921.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And finally, an elephant, maybe one of Andrew’s favourite
animals, I think he had a dream about one once and he rarely remembered his
dreams so there is some significance as well as being the elephant in the room
that I had NO BOOKS except my "not for sale" proof copy.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08OJaTjrZgygWpcbC4CZ7lBa5kzZuL8sRJ7TWRWHe_WYg34Tpz1iGqlyTWPO2afyObrkSIosl9xF61ZCIUoDtC5Dc2k31OOlDUUPK7DRPFiis8UH3A-sb_595j-coPWSuOSA9onJkBzl5jW4nkEcBpJ4jtp6O1tCEcl1_Y39mfTfSqnPBV3rMhNQzOn8/s2744/20240131_204733.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2744" data-original-width="2084" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj08OJaTjrZgygWpcbC4CZ7lBa5kzZuL8sRJ7TWRWHe_WYg34Tpz1iGqlyTWPO2afyObrkSIosl9xF61ZCIUoDtC5Dc2k31OOlDUUPK7DRPFiis8UH3A-sb_595j-coPWSuOSA9onJkBzl5jW4nkEcBpJ4jtp6O1tCEcl1_Y39mfTfSqnPBV3rMhNQzOn8/s320/20240131_204733.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal">No one minded there being no books, it was a great talking
point and I took pre-orders instead, most have now been delivered.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I love your audacity,” commented one friend, “what’s next
selling fridges to the Antarctic?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Actually, I’m not sure what is next, I waiting for those
nebulous ideas in my brain to align. But one thing is for sure, Having one book
launch without books is forgivable, I’m not sure I will get away with it next
time!<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUlbPFNfPfoIMcEO6L-Enz34s0bt1aqFSjzLtCCoAZPWE8ntFJpNYKVCELAfChkjr5WabFtoWcJ1WPFlm4LpQota0iKWmsBM9LnivgL3zVGo45TP7nYLDzZseQE9dGomBzLemABb92VpVdZGWhl3-QJG0HsswhR9P_3SKAV0CzIlQbxNa3xcqcuGT9YQ/s4624/20240112_181613.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="4624" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUlbPFNfPfoIMcEO6L-Enz34s0bt1aqFSjzLtCCoAZPWE8ntFJpNYKVCELAfChkjr5WabFtoWcJ1WPFlm4LpQota0iKWmsBM9LnivgL3zVGo45TP7nYLDzZseQE9dGomBzLemABb92VpVdZGWhl3-QJG0HsswhR9P_3SKAV0CzIlQbxNa3xcqcuGT9YQ/w640-h288/20240112_181613.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I forgot to mention the purple Quality Streets, Andrew's favourite which we gave away as everyone left the church after the funeral.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07953334708365738152noreply@blogger.com2