I’m super proud of this one, because it’s a unique honor bestowed by John Teal. According to his site:
Every now and again in the blogging world, you come across a creator that is an “Open Book” They are open about what they believe, feel or know. These people may have a niche audience, or they may be blogging about everything and anything. Whatever the subject, you just feel that if you were to sit in a room with them, they would be the same person. They are not blogging to gain popularity or likes, they are just laying it out as they see it. Now that is not to say they would be talkative if you met them, they may be introverts or have imposter syndrome.. But deep down, what you see is what you get… they are without guile. The Open Book blog award is created to recognise just such people.
Not only do I need to brush off my formal dining wear, I need to thank John for FINALLY giving me a label for this eclectic blog o’ mine: Open Book.
Enough with the acceptance speech. Let’s get right to fulfilling the requirements, which include answering some questions:
Why do you blog? At this stage, for kicks and giggles …and connecting with my friends.
What motivates you to share your thoughts? Sometimes, late at night, I have an itch. I …must …write ...a poem making fun of Ed Sheeran. Or, you know, someone nominates me for a blogging award.
Are you disappointed if a post doesn’t reach many people? Hm. Yes and no. I was more disappointed before anyone read my stuff at all. Now, I’m more disappointed if people completely misunderstand what I wrote.
Are there posts you have planned but never written – because its just too open? Yes! Yes! Yes! Mostly, those are political ones.
How long have you blogged for? Years. I’ve a blogiversary coming up on June 24.
Is there a blog post you have written and amazed yourself with? Yes. I find I write better toward a challenge. Charli’s prompts at Carrot Ranch are great for this.
Okay… now I’m to nominate others who are open. Thing is, most of my blogging friends are open book. We bond at that level. Specifically, I’ll say to check out Pete Springer and Bossy Babe. If you two want to answer the questions and keep the nominations rolling, go for it.
I find it no funny coincidence that dieting sounds so much like dying, because I’ve not been able to indulge in my unhealthy eating habits for -eight- -whole- -weeks-.
This dy -eting has been part of a challenge: I, along with several other participants, have solemnly sworn to drink 64 oz. of water, eat 2 fruits and 3 vegetables, not consume sugar, exercise 5/7 days of the week, keep a food journal, contact a teammate daily, and whine about my lack of energy at least 3 times a day.
And that’s why I want to hear about dessert.
No, really. The upside of this diet is one ‘cheat’ day a week where I get to eat sugar. Two weeks ago, I made chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter bars to celebrate. Last week, I opted for an oatmeal fruit bar -because I love oats.
I also love chocolate lava cake, cream puffs, éclairs, fresh fruit pies, pistachio ice cream, Tagalongs, Symphony bars with toffee bits, Costco’s macadamia clusters, rich chocolate, crullers, and …maybe I should go to bed instead of making myself salivate.
In the meantime, what are some of your favorite treats? If you could eat sugar for just one day a week, which dessert would you indulge in?
One of my favorite quotes is Don’t take life so seriously. No one gets out alive. I laugh, then go right back to taking life too seriously. I’m all caught up in the rush and tumble of meaningless nothings ….which will, one day, add up to a eulogy of my life.
Why the morbidity? I attended a funeral for the husband of a friend on Monday. Funerals for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) are a little different than movie funerals. One, we don’t wear all black. Two, the service focuses on hope and eternity; on the joy we had in the person and on the promise of being with him or her again after death. Three, there are often A LOT of people attending since Mormons have a thing for large families*. And four, family and close friends eat funeral potatoes, ham, and Jell-O salad afterwards.
Item #4 might not be that unique. I mean, who doesn’t love cheesy potatoes?
I really enjoyed the funeral. The man whom we honored sounded wonderful: big into his family, a proponent for hard work, a lover of Doritos and Mtn Dew, sometimes a tease, a man always ready to open up his home for events; sincere, genuine, service-oriented, and kind.
A few thoughts crossed my mind during the service. The primary one was I want people to say those things at my funeral.
That’s a good thing, because I normally come away thinking I sure hope no one says this when I die! …If you know the deceased was a mean drunk who beat his wife, it’s disingenuous to go on about how he loved his fellow man. So, my kids had better not say, “Chelsea loved being a mother. Housework was her middle name. Birds sang and children frolicked. I still can’t believe we all learned to play six instruments and speak seven languages!”
I’m aware of a common writing exercise to type up one’s own eulogy. Being a paranoid person, I’m not heading that direction. I do wonder what, specifically, I’d want people to say -as a sort of goal to work towards. If not known for dishes and laundry, what about for writing that elusive book? If not for birds singing, what about dogs barking? Do I want my children to remember my RBF or my real love for them?
I want everyone who wants to, to come. It should feel like a party (with those yummy potatoes!) where no one feels excluded. Maybe I should arrange for a balloon artist.
What about you? Have you thought about your end-of-life party? What would you want said?
Hi, friend! Would you like to have it all: stable income, house, kids, home-cooked meals, sleep, exercise, free time, vacations, and time to write and read blog posts?
Like me, you can have it all! I follow a very systematic, daily approach. From the moment I can’t distract the two-year-old anymore, I am shuffling off to a fast-paced itinerary …that, frankly, started long before I finally got there.
I’m the yoga pants-clad minivan momma in a mental haze. My ‘system’ is ‘whatever is on fire comes first’ and my ‘daily’ is a loose adherence to the time between midnights.
I’ve surfaced enough this morningafternoonevening between-midnights to realize mine might not be that effective of an approach. And to realize I need help.
First, I called a cleaning service. Next, I slept and ate and might shower. Finally, I’m asking you: what’s your schedule? Specifically, since this is a blog, what’s your blogging schedule?
I also wrote the second-to-last Anyone Can Poem over at Carrot Ranch.
Saturday, April 2: Winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest, Matt! He picked the theme and form of a free verse on driving for this fortnight’s contest. I’m going to sneak one in even though it may be past the deadline because I’m so excited to do this one!
The ‘new’ place is fantastic …and a lot of work. Every room is a project waiting to top the list. Every corner of the yard needs pruning or trimming or weeding or…
Still, we’re settling in. We’re meeting the neighbors. As part of this, I’ve tried to listen when our local LDS ward’s* Relief Society hosts Me in a Minute. The idea is that a woman has one minute to describe herself.
One minute. 🕒
Naturally, I’ve thought how I would fill my minute if I had a turn. I wouldn’t do that, I’ve thought. Or, I wouldn’t say that. Welllll, Karma has come around; I’ve been asked to try my hand during the meeting tomorrow.
Problem is, I’m over-thinking -for good reason. Most people introduce themselves by profession. Then, they elaborate. Then, they name a few interests or achievements. If I were to follow this format, however, my introduction would be:
Hello. I’m a mother. I have five and 8/9 boys. In my spare time, I sleep.Today, I got dressed.
I’d love to be more clever than that, but there’s the problem of the 8/9 boy draining my mental capacity. And ability to stand for a full minute without needing to visit the ladies’ room… Maybe I ought to give myself a script.
So, really, what would you say in a minute’s time? Would you write it all out or just wing it?
*The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is unique in that one attends a ward or branch in the area one moves to; and that this ward or branch follows exactly the same schedule, format, doctrine, etc. as any other.
If you haven’t met Pete Springer yet, you are in for a treat. Genuinely kind and encouraging, driven to recognize and appreciate others, and humble to a fault; he is the sort of human we need representing our species should aliens ask to speak with our leader.
What does that have to do with people calling him “Mom?” Pete worked as an elementary school teacher for 31 years. After retirement, he wrote a book. And, I read it.
In true Pete fashion, he wrote in order to help others. His non-fiction They Call Me Mom is chock-full of advice and instruction for teachers of all levels. He’s included plenty of his own experiences, admonitions, and the occasional touching or humorous anecdote.
One story, about a girl from a family being raised by a single mother, brought me to happy-tears. That same story is also on his blog: “The Trip.” There’s a bit of a name change of the protagonist, but the gist of the story is that a cute, little second-grader informs Mr. Springer that she is saving all of her money in order to take her family on a trip.
I also enjoyed reading about Pete’s mishaps before discovering he wanted to be a teacher, including stints as a tree-planter and Olympics event ticket-seller. His mishaps after discovering teaching are equally entertaining but, naturally, more heart-warming.
With every anecdote, Pete masterfully turns the events and morals to a life lesson. The man simply exudes being a teacher; he can’t seem to help it.
If that weren’t enough, Pete agreed to answer a few questions:
1. You have a lot of advice in your book. If you could give a new teacher only three tips, what would they be? A. Believe that you do have the power to make a difference. Some child is going to go on to do great things because of you. What an amazing feeling and immense responsibility! B. I can’t take credit for this one, but I believe it with all my heart: Maya Angelou—”I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” C. If I could, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat with one change—look after yourself as well as you do your students. If you don’t take care of yourself, then you can’t help them.
2. Many male teachers prefer higher grades or positions of authority. Did you ever regret staying in elementary school? Never. Everyone has to find the right age for himself/herself. I seriously thought about becoming a principal, but I would have missed having my own classroom too much and hanging out with “my kids” each day. It was like being part of a big family. I could have taught middle school, high school, or even college, but I felt like I could impact the most people by teaching elementary school.
3. With both you and your wife teaching, did you find a work/life balance more difficult? Having a spouse in the same profession was a good thing because both of us knew exactly how the other was feeling when one of us had a bad day. Sometimes we felt like talking about it, and other times we didn’t. My wife and I laughed a lot together, and there were times we’d end up in hysterics over some of the absurdities of schools and children.
4. When do teachers use the bathroom? Next to never. I always tried to leave my room for a few minutes at lunch, but I didn’t even manage that some days. In an emergency (a couple of times a year), I might call the office or another teacher to ask them to send somebody to my room for a minute. If no one were available, sometimes we’d call another teacher who was on their break. Sometimes I brought my entire class to the next-door neighbor’s classroom for a couple of minutes when there was no other option. They could also do the same.
And, he gave us a bonus answer! Extra tidbits of wisdom: Teaching is a team effort. Don’t try to do it all alone. You need to keep the parents informed because they want to know what’s going on, and most will be super appreciative of your efforts. Don’t live on an island—engage with the other teachers to see how you can find ways to work together to improve the program. Remember to have fun with your class. Years later, they aren’t going to remember your math or writing lessons. But they will remember that you ran around on the playground with them, dressed up in ridiculous costumes with them, and went to their extracurricular activities because you cared about them more than anything else.
If you or someone you know would like a short, sweet book on teaching; pick up a copy today. I’m not a teacher and still benefitted from his recommendations. After all, are we not all teachers in some capacity?
Keep a lookout for Pete in the future as well! He’s working on a fictional story for YA, next!
From Pete’s blog:
My name is Pete Springer. I taught elementary school for thirty-one years (grades 2-6) at Pine Hill School in Eureka, CA. Even though I retired over three years ago, my passion will always lie with supporting education, kids, and teachers.
When I came out of the teaching program many years ago, I realized how unprepared I was for what was in store for me in the classroom. My college education focused mostly on learning theory rather than the practical day-to-day challenges that all teachers face. Thankfully, I had some great mentors to lean on to help support me in the early part of my career.
I have made it my mission to pay it forward to the next generation of teachers. I was a master teacher to four student teachers, and I have several former students who are now teachers, including one who teaches at my former elementary school. That is pretty cool!
While I was teaching, I decided that one day I would write books for children. That ship is now in the harbor. I took some writing workshops, found a critique group, joined SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), and I’m nearing the end of writing my first middle-grade novel. I’m writing for middle-school boys, as I don’t feel there are enough good books for that age level.
Waaaay back in my infanblogcy, I stumbled upon D. Wallace Peach. Maybe I followed a trail of adoring fans; maybe I read an entry she did for Carrot Ranch; or maybe her reputation guided my searchings. I still recall the very first blog post I read: a snippet from a book she wrote about a girl witnessing an execution and feeling emotions where she was not supposed to. The idea was that people did not feel and the girl was an aberration.
At that point, I vowed I would purchase and read one of Diana’s books. This year, I did so. In fact, I did so twice because she released a brand-new series: Unraveling the Veil.
When I asked D. Wallace about my doing a review and Q&A after reading the first book, she agreed! D. is one of the most genuine and nicest people I’ve ever corresponded with; the sort I know would invite me in with a smile and an invitation to dinner if I e-mailed her that I happened to be near her secret writing room.
Liars and Thieves, the first book in this trilogy, begins with an omniscient POV of one Kalann il Drakk, First of Chaos, who is launching psionic canons or somesuch in order to break something called The Veil. His attack is rebuffed and his damages repaired, buuuuut his efforts cause energy lapses in the lands beyond The Veil.
We’re then thrown into the perspective of a goblin -a half-goblin, actually- named Naj’ar, then that of Elanalue Windthorn the elf, then that of a changeling who mostly goes by Talin Raska.
Yep; this is a fantasy novel.
The story unfolds through these three different characters and the parts where their adventures intersect and intertwine. Each represents and reveals the good and bad of their distinct, interesting races. Each has personal powers, personalities, and flaws. Each is intriguing to read.
After I finished reading the book, Diana agreed to answer a few questions:
1. Where did your initial inspiration for the races in your world come from?
First, thanks so much for inviting me to your blog, Chelsea. And for the great questions. I love chatting about books and writing.
The inspiration for Liars and Thieves had its origin in US politics where blaming, racial bullying, and blatant lies had crept from the shadows and become unabashedly mainstream. Rather than deal honestly with the nation’s challenges, children and families became targets, sacrificed in order to instill fear and amass power.
I started thinking… what would happen if this situation occurred in a fantasy world where a god (the First of Chaos) was responsible for an inciting event—the disappearance of a group of people? And instead of working together to determine the truth and find a solution, the different races began blaming each other. And what if all this unjustified blame started magnifying existing challenges and creating new ones that subsequently grew out of control?
Now, this is a work of fantasy, so like most fiction, it developed a life of its own. The races are elves, goblins, and changelings. There are monsters and gods, and plenty of magical talents. No one is innocent, and together they almost destroy their world… all because it was easier to assign blame than take responsibility, work together, and learn the truth—which was that none of them were at fault in the first place.
2.Some fantasy authors invent languages; but, with the exception of the mountain peoples (goblins) speaking in the royal we, you’ve kept them at a universal lingo. Why?
My book Sunwielder has a made-up language. But not much of it. I love designing languages, but it’s something I do sparingly, because, quite literally, no one can read it! Sentences of “fake words” end up being skimmed, and an author needs to decide why those skimmed words are so important to the story. The author also has to take the time to translate without awkwardness and without bogging down the prose.
I think different languages can be implied through dialect, a sprinkling of made-up words, more formal dialog, or stumbling “second language” speech. Even these approaches have to be carefully applied, since too much tweaking can draw the reader’s attention to the writing and away from the story. In this series, the goblins are a collective society so they use “we” instead of “I,” and “us” instead of “me.” They also don’t use contractions in dialog. That seemed like plenty to establish that goblins had a different way of speaking.
3.Do you feel it’s important to have rules and limits to magic, and how have you applied that to your races?
Absolutely! Some of the best magic systems I’ve read are those created by fantasy author Brandon Sanderson (Mistborn, Elantris). Sanderson distinguishes between “soft magic” and “hard magic” and suggests that they lie on a continuum. Soft magic is full of wonder and has few rules. The magic users have mysterious abilities and can do whatever they wish with little limitation.
Hard magic lies on the other end of the spectrum, and here is where the rules come into play. In the case of hard magic, it becomes an integral plot device in the story. Two critical requirements of hard magic are 1) strict limitations and 2) flaws or costs to the user.
In most of my books, magic is centered around one magical item (a book or an amulet) or one ability (the power to manipulate emotions or swallow souls).
In the Unraveling the Veil series, the magic system is based on the manipulation of energy, and it’s much broader, with each race possessing different kinetic talents.
Goblins are terrakinetic and can manipulate earth-matter.
Changelings are biokinetic and can alter their biological patterns.
Elves have various kinetic abilities, singularly or in combination: photokinetic (light), pyrokinetic (fire), and hydrokinetic (water), to name a few.
As I designed the magic system, it became apparent that changelings had the most powerful talent, and therefore they needed the most challenges when using it. I imposed these limitations/costs:
Shifting is physically agonizing
Shifting leaves the user temporarily weak and vulnerable
Too long in a foreign shape makes the shift permanent
And a significant change in mass requires the absorption or release of energy. This generates temperature changes in the atmosphere, which, at worst, can start disastrous fires. In other words, don’t shift from a man into a bug in the middle of the forest!
4. What is the best dessert ever invented?
Oooh. This is the hardest question of all! Lol. Can I pick 3? In summer, I love strawberry shortcake. In winter, I want warm berry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. And I won’t turn down a creamy cheesecake any time of year! They all have to be sugar-free and low-calorie though.
Thanks again for the invite, Chelsea. This was great fun. Happy Reading!
D. Wallace Peach started writing later in life after the kids were grown and a move left her with hours to fill. Years of working in business surrendered to a full-time indulgence in the imaginative world of books, and when she started writing, she was instantly hooked. Diana lives in a log cabin amongst the tall evergreens and emerald moss of Oregon’s rainforest with her husband, two owls, a horde of bats, and the occasional family of coyotes.
As a side note, this book is clean enough that I promptly handed it to my twelve-year-old to read. He’s burned through all my fantasy series and needed a wonderful, new book to read. -This is also why I couldn’t flip through the book to remember specific character names and references.
Geoff LePard -thank goodness- is unlike other authors. Where most would see a greening woodland dappled in midday light and write about fairies, Geoff is apt to whip up a dialogue ‘txixt Madame Rootbringerton and her onerous neighbor, Sir Pansybottom.
And that dialogue is not always appropriate for general audiences.
When Geoff announced plans to write and publish a book of poetry, I therefore wasn’t sure what to expect. Spurred by forays into this site’s Terrible Poetry contests and encouraged by his muse, Geoff pursued his dream and has produced The Sincerest Form of Poetry.
All of life in one easy couplet
To write poetry I need inspiration. Often that comes from my appreciation of the craftsmanship of other, better poets, whose skills I aspire to emulate. For this anthology, I have chosen two such sources: in part one, the search for Britain’s favourite poem led to the publication of the top 100 and I have used a number of these to craft my own take on those beautiful and inspirational works; in part two, my love of the sonnet form, fostered by reading Shakespeare’s gems has provided a selection covering many topics and themes. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed creating them.
Half parody pastiche and half sonnet, Monsieur LePard outdoes himself. After reading, I came up with a few questions which he has graciously answered:
1. Many of your poems seem inspired by a certain topic or event. Could you pick one (parody or sonnet) and describe your inspiration for it?
-Sure (and your surmise is quite right). In the first section – Parody? Hmm, I might debate that some time, though I’ve had them called pastiche too which is worse – sorry, moving on… Foreign Is Quite Ghastly is a political rant, inspired, or maybe despaired is the appropriate term, by one word. Brexit. A word that will define my generation’s stupidity, pointy-headed narrow-mindedness and casual xenophobia.
Foreign Is Quite Ghastly (Home Thoughts, From Abroad, Robert Browning)
Oh to be in England Rather than ‘abroad’ To say travel broadens the mind Is really quite absurd. It’s dusty here, and full of smells Against which the most robust rebels And, God, the din the locals make And don’t get me on what they boil and bake. I’ll gift a kidney if you’ll just allow Me back to England. Now!
The birds they have hereabouts Have beady eyes and beaks of steel, And I really must confess my doubts: These evil beasts cannot be real? Back home in dear old Blighty Our beaded tits are cute and flighty And fill my soul with careless rapture. Hearts should sing! They shouldn’t rupture!
I’ve got my ticket, I’m on my way Back to England’s green gold shores; I’m done with ‘foreign’, outdone my stay Take me home, to know-all bores, To potholed roads and warm flat beer: I’m an Englishman: get me outta here!
In structuring the poem, I began by focusing on certain well-established tropes that are raised by those whose experiences of ‘foreign’ have not been good: the strange smells when one alights from train or plane; the noise from local markets or minarets, made less attractive because it’s in a language that no self respecting Brit would want to understand; and the strange local diets inflicted on our poor traveller, which is a strange conceit given the British have adopted the mild curry as their own national dish. To give one example, I well recall my first holiday in Spain – I was 22 – when I was prevailed upon to spend a week on the Costa Brava, amongst so many other Brits. One sign, on a café, said it sold ‘tea like mum makes’: not only was it squarely aimed at we Brits and our obsession with tea but the joke had to be in English because it wouldn’t work in the local tongue.
In verse two, I’ve turned to another snobbish stereotype: that somehow Britain’s green and pleasant land – it’s natural environment – is so much nicer than everywhere else: our climate is benign; there are no poisonous creatures that will kill you (unless you have an unusual, and frankly not very British allergic reaction to say a bee string); there are no tier one predators that can out do a domesticated Brit (sure, cows can trample you and there are a few dogs I’d not want to be alone with for long) and the risk of being eaten is very remote. Further more our indigenous fauna are cuddly and cute, made more so by the propensity to anthropomorphise them in children’s literature – Wind In The Willows even rehabilitated a rat for pity’s sake. Everywhere else you have snakes that kill with a toxic glance, mammals whose teeth fail all health and safety procedures and bird life that put the lie on the theory that the dinosaurs died out.
In the final verse, I turn to consider what it is that draws the Brit home and poke fun at our acceptance of our inadequacies because, well, they’re so much better than everyone else’s inadequacies. Essentially it’s a dig at the one British past-time at which we have no superiors: our ability to moan. In the last two lines, there are two allusions which you probably need to be British to get: ‘warm flat beer’ is a reference to the chief Brexit stirrer, Nigel Farage who would often be photo’ed in a British pub sipping a pint of the ghastly muck, to prove his domestic credentials. And ‘get me outta here’ is a cultural reference to the TV show ‘I’m a Celebrity; Get me Outta here’; we like to make a big play on our cultural superiority: Shakespeare and theatre, the BBC and TV dramas and comedies Nowadays our exports are of a more prosaic nature: The Great British Bake Off, Strictly Come Dancing and Top Gear. How far have we fallen.
2. In my experience, some people are afraid of writing poetry. What advice would you give a writer who feels timid at the idea of trying a poem?
Oh dear, that’s easy to say: just write. I think people expect poetry to be a special skill and they have to have the knack or they can’t do it. I like to think of poetry as structured prose anyway. If you can write a sentence you can write poetry and some poetry is just differently aligned prose anyway.
Your lesson to me [when I applied for some advice years ago] is a great place to start. Go outside, sit and stare and then write down all you see, hear, smell and, if you do, taste and touch. Then see if anything jumps out at you as an idea or thought you’d like to pursue. Poetry doesn’t have to be about imagery or emotion, it doesn’t need metaphor or simile. It can be glib and silly. The fact that I like form is my weakness rather than a guide to how it’s done. I often wonder if we fail our children by offering them so much in rhyme that they feel the need to rhyme their poetry and that carries through to limit them in adulthood.
3. What would you rhyme with ‘orange?’
Some say it is those on the fringe On whose votes this election will hinge; But despite all the chatter It’s skin tone that’ll matter: A grey face or one that’s orange.
On Geoff’s permission, I’ve included another of his poems that I enjoyed:
The Inner Musings of Clouds (Daffodils, William Wordsworth)
I wandered lonely as a cloud Which is pretty daft for a man of fifty, Cos, unlike a cloud, and I’m not proud To admit, I’m not, these days, so nifty As once I was. I’ve put on weight Through beer and pies, and grown a paunch That’s round and hard. I’m not the slight Young fella, who’d down a vat at lunch With space to drink the same at dinner. Clouds are lonely, so posits old Will, Like me, they’re seen as less saint than sinner Who’ll rain on everyone’s parade, until The fun stops. But we don’t care, cloudy and me; We are what we are: grey, fat, round and free.
To pick up your own copy, visit Tangental.com or Amazon. Stick around his blog for some great stories and some envy-worthy views of Geoff’s garden as well.
Geoff Le Pard started writing to entertain in 2006. He hasn’t left his keyboard since. When he’s not churning out novels he writes some maudlin self-indulgent poetry, short fiction and blogs at geofflepard.com. He walks the dog for mutual inspiration and most of his best ideas come out of these strolls. He also cooks with passion if not precision.
My Father and Other Liars is a thriller set in the near future and takes its heroes, Maurice and Lori-Ann on a helter-skelter chase across continents.
Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle is a coming of age story. Set in 1976 the hero Harry Spittle is home from university for the holidays. He has three goals: to keep away from his family, earn money and hopefully have sex. Inevitably his summer turns out to be very different to that anticipated.
In this, the second book in the Harry Spittle Sagas, it’s 1981 and Harry is training to be a solicitor. His private life is a bit of a mess and he’s far from convinced the law is for him. Then an old acquaintance from his hotel days appears demanding Harry write his will. When he dies somewhat mysteriously a few days later and leaves Harry in charge of sorting out his affairs, Harry soon realises this will be no ordinary piece of work. After all, his now deceased client inherited a criminal empire and several people are very interested in what is to become of it.
The third instalment of the Harry Spittle Sagas moves on the 1987. Harry is now a senior lawyer with a well-regarded City of London firm, aspiring to a partnership. However, one evening Harry finds the head of the Private Client department dead over his desk, in a very compromising situation. The senior partner offers to sort things out, to avoid Harry embarrassment but soon matters take a sinister turn and Harry is fighting for his career, his freedom and eventually his life as he wrestles with dilemma on dilemma. Will Harry save the day? Will he save himself?
Life in a Grain of Sand is a 30 story anthology covering many genres: fantasy, romance, humour, thriller, espionage, conspiracy theories, MG and indeed something for everyone. All the stories were written during Nano 2015.
Buster & Moo is about about two couples and the dog whose ownership passes from one to the other. When the couples meet, via the dog, the previously hidden cracks in their relationships surface and events begin to spiral out of control. If the relationships are to survive there is room for only one hero but who will that be?
Apprenticed To My Mother describes the period after my father died when I thought I was to play the role of dutiful son, while Mum wanted a new, improved version of her husband – a sort of Desmond 2.0. We both had a lot to learn in those five years, with a lot of laughs and a few tears as we went.
Life in a Conversation is an anthology of short and super short fiction that explores connections through humour, speech and everything besides. If you enjoy the funny, the weird and the heart-rending then you’ll be sure to find something here.
When Martin suggests to Pete and Chris that they spend a week walking, the Cotswolds Way, ostensibly it’s to help Chris overcome the loss of his wife, Diane. Each of them, though, has their own agenda and, as the week progresses, cracks in their friendship widen with unseen and horrifying consequences.
I haven’t felt like writing. My busy blog-posting indicates otherwise, except that I’ve mostly written about Real Life. The world of fiction is not a place I want to go now that it’s knocking on my door and popping into my e-mails and being re-posted on my social media.
Dystopia is one of my favorite subjects. I intend to write a science fiction and/or futuristic novel someday. Maybe I’ll do Skinwalkers or Since the Bombs Fell or “Open the Sky“… But, like I said, that future is here. It’s not so intriguing when I’m living it.
I think I assumed I’d not be alive during a post-apocalyptic scenario.
I definitely assumed I’d be fit, well-armed, well-stocked, and driving an army Jeep.
It’s not quite as awesome to be wearing pajamas, carrying around postpartum baby weight, caring for five children, and occasionally driving a minivan.
The day-to-day sitting around involved with Coronavirus is precisely why they never showed Jack Bauer using the bathroom in his 24 hour days.
Maybe if TP was in short supply in one of the episodes, they would have included a bathroom scene.
I do better in the midst of chaos; needing to grab that last Clorox wipe, save the child from uncertain school days, or stumble to the wall while the world shakes. When all is calm and all is bright, I stay awake as anxiety gnaws at my conscience. What if we get sick? Will the boys ever have school again? What, exactly, do we do in a stronger earthquake?
My husband says worrying does nothing. I say it’s all I can do. If I don’t remember to worry about it, then I am doing nothing. He then says something about the Serenity Prayer…
Which helps me realize that waiting may be difficult, but it may be what we all need to do right now. Realizing this helps me realize I need a plan besides buy, worry, panic. Realizing all of those things helps me realize I ought to accept the things I cannot change and write up a schedule for life and blogging.
It may be infrequent, but I’d like to include the following:
Interviews with my friends, especially those who have published and wish to share their work(s).
Book reviews of the books I will get myself to read, especially if I manage to read the work(s) my friends have published.
Bad poetry, of course. I think we need it.
Some creative projects outside of writing. I art on occasion. I could share more.
Favorite books, music, art, people, whatever.
I never have time for me when the children are home all day, so my chance of daily posts is not very high unless I schedule ahead. Still, I need this outlet. Twofacebook may have a lot more people on it now, but it’s mostly chainmails and reposts. No one likes my informational statistics on COVID for some reason…
If you have ideas of other things I could include on the blog, let me know. If you would like to be interviewed, let me know. As always, thank you for joining me on…
Well, thank you for joining me on my blog, anyway.
Here’s the past week: Wednesday, March 25: “Going Postal, II,” the second in my serial story about Ron the postman.
Friday, March 27: Wrote an update on the Coronavirus situation ’round here.
If that shocked you, you may need to spend more time plowing thru -okay, you’re right: I don’t mention it much. I mostly don’t bring up my location or religious affiliation because of The Box Phenomenon. People are so keen to categorize that they will automatically assume things about my character, things that are probably not true.
There are, however, many characteristics or behaviors or habits or lack of cuss words that are true because of my Utah LDSness.
I don’t drink alcohol. Never have, and I mean never.
I have not done recreational drugs.
I’ve never had a cup of coffee.
I have no tattoos. Never have.
I wear one set of earrings, in my ear lobes.
I lived a very clean dating life and my husband is the only man I’ve known.**
I don’t swear, unless it’s the morning after the children have not slept and they will damn well hear about how frustrating they’ve been after the umpteenth time -in which case, it’s still only “damn” and “hell.”
I attend church every week and (before I was pregnant) voluntarily worked a ‘job’ in our ward.
The list could go on, I suppose, but that’s why I’m writing this post. I am naturally curious about how other people live their lives, and assume others might be curious about mine. I specifically wonder if everyone else starts the day with a cup of coffee. Does everyone else flip off bad drivers on the freeway? Does everyone slip on a tank top and short shorts and call themselves dressed?
And so, what do you wonder about MY day-to-day life or views based on my location and religious leanings? Within reason, what questions do you have? Do you have any?
I’m no official representative of my faith and will not purport to be so, but am willing to answer what I can.
Try me. I’m curious.
*The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints has officially stated that its members are not ‘Mormons,’ but are ‘members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.’