Ancient nymphs and dancing girls
I will conjure thee
Helped by age old winds
Treasures held for far too long
Buried beneath the paths you walk
Ask and it shall be given
Dig and you shall find is better
Gold buries way back in time
By those who fled the battle royal
Buried beside hedgerows
Where morning glories greet the early riser
Treasures at his feet…
Image by Pixabay.com
Take a break, rest awhile
Put up your feet on snow white fur
Lean back your head, close your eyes
See the stories you might find
Elves and goblins, Kings gone blind
Fairy tales lay deep in mind
What good a King who cannot see?
Unless you find the magic well
Built by St Michael’s hand
All is well within his spell
Let the water cleanse all ills away
On crossroads built in ever changing time
One moment is all you need
For blind to see, lame to walk
When you wake, pick up your pen
Let us read the stories you found
From the magic of your mind
We will not judge with eyes still closed
Kind remarks will pen write back
For substance given to stir our minds
Old memories that come in time
For children who still stand and wait…
For so many reasons this week has been a nightmare.
I received a letter from the hospital summoning me for another look at my cataracts. This has imposed a deadline on my editing, for after that date, I may not be able to see what I’m doing, depending on when or if they decide to do something this time.
Seriously though, I am getting really fed up with not being able to see properly. Everything is blurred, and print is so small. And don’t get me started on the headaches!
Having a deadline is one hell of a way to buck my ideas up, that’s for sure.
Just when I was feeling positive about everything and things were moving along swimmingly, BT decided to upgrade their email site, resulting in the most awful balls up. If this is what passes as ‘better’, I must be a monkey’s uncle!
Not only is it poorly arranged, but the layout sucks, AND it keeps going wrong! I mean, I don’t ask for much, just that things work the way they’re supposed to.
Moving on to what I’m supposed to be doing, the editing of PayBack. Right in the middle of thinking I was doing a brilliant job, I realised that somehow I was out of my depth. This turned into what the hell did I think I was doing, so everything crashed right there!
I am beginning to think my brain has finally decided to be old and past it after all. All without consulting me, I might add. I keep forgetting where I am in the process of editing, and what I’m supposed to be doing. I spread all these chapters on my desk, trying to make sure the plot was running smoothly. I found myself staring at them, with absolutely no clue. My head was empty, and I had never felt so lost in my life.
I don’t understand what is happening, for I usually breeze through editing. Hell, I was an editor long before I became a writer and love doing it. The chance to polish your story until it shines is a glorious part of writing, and here I was, unable to organise a piss up in a brewery.
Editing, as you know, is a series of systematically checking everything. You must be methodical and do things in the right order, something I seemed to have forgotten how to do.
For the first time in my writing career, I might need an independent edit… Something I never thought I would ever say…
And if all of this wasn’t bad enough, I have eaten all the chocolate!
When advertising executive Erica Whittaker is diagnosed with terminal cancer, western medicine fails her. The only hope left for her to survive is controversial healer Arpan. She locates the man whose touch could heal her but finds he has retired from the limelight and refuses to treat her. Erica, consumed by stage four pancreatic cancer, is desperate and desperate people are no longer logical nor are they willing to take no for an answer. Arpan has retired for good reasons. casting more than the shadow of a doubt over his abilities. So begins a journey that will challenge them both as the past threatens to catch up with him as much as with her. Can he really heal her? Can she trust him with her life? And will they both achieve what they set out to do before running out of time?
Now part of a medical thriller…
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The following authors and bloggers kindly answered questions posed by Stevie Turner regarding significant life experiences they had undergone. These events include sexual abuse, a near death experience, alcoholism, being diagnosed with cancer, depression, losing weight, getting married, being a mother to many children, being the daughter of a narcissistic mother, and many more!
All proceeds will go to Cancer Research.
Thanks to:
Alienora Browning
Sally Cronin
Dorinda Duclos
Scarlett Flame
Bernard Foong
Darlene Foster
Janet Gogerty
Debbie Harris
Lucy V. Hay
Miriam Hurdle
Phil Huston
Pamela Jessen
Joe
D.G Kaye
Lynda McKinney Lambert
Jaye Marie
Clive Pilcher
Abbie Johnson Taylor
Beem Weeks
This collection of experiences, told mainly in the form of questions and answers, from twenty authors and bloggers, is a unique and emotional read. Each of the twenty participants has been through a traumatic time in their lives and each of them…
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She was that age, that ageless something
Between rose petal cheeks and silver waves of fascination
Where the foundations moved but the plans never changed
Where her eyes only ever shone brighter, more acutely than before
Piercing like twin stars set in her own personal heaven
A girl with a woman’s knowing, woman with a girl’s innocence
The sort of carefree soul who bought coral rings just to remember other people’s dreams
It was easier for her living through the dreams of others, I think
As she had no time to waste on her own
I’ve forgotten what they called her because her name never really mattered
Not to those who shared her timeline, her space, her place
A name, as with the asking her age, was pointless
For whoever took the time to speak to the wind
When the only thing that mattered was feeling it rustling their hair
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A friend at work came into my office recently, and was very angry. Her elderly mother, who lives in a warden-controlled flat, had been assigned a male carer. Her mother was aghast and quite distressed that he had taken off her clothes and washed her. I’m not sure whether he had asked her permission first, but surely anybody working for a care agency would have asked their client whether they agreed to them performing personal care before going ahead?
My own mother in her final years had a male carer. However, she would not let him do any personal care. He had been assigned 45 minutes early mornings to help her out of bed and help her to wash and dress herself, but all she would let him do was prepare her breakfast and wash up the dishes. She preferred to struggle and take 2 full hours to wash herself…
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The Arcade Market in the Commercial district is not the most prestigious of the markets in Port Naain. One will not find the truly exotic, but there again one will not find the grossly overpriced either. It provides decent quality produce. The price is higher than I would expect to pay, but if one uses a poet as one’s reference, one can easily be led astray.
I know one of the stallholders reasonably well. Jilliane Lanwaster is a regular at the market, selling vegetables. Now it has to be admitted that vegetables lack glamour. Spices and exotic fruit stalls hint at exotic places, with mysterious merchants passing hastily through fear shadowed lands to bring us their wares. Vegetables are somehow ordinary.
To be asked to write without blushing
On the romance of the carrot
The dark mystery of the parsnip
The wonder of the skirret
Shows that your patron knows…
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Writing a novel is tough. I don’t need to go into detail on that. For those of you who write novels you know exactly what I’m talking about.
We all have our different ways of approaching it. For me I have to see it and feel it before I jot down a word. I have to know these people, feel their emotions, but most of all see their world.
Do I say goodbye
There are times when I want to walk away. Sometimes an idea is impossible to write. Let’s face it, some things are not meant to be.
Sometimes we have better, stronger stories with deeper settings and believable characters. They are easier to write and that’s the simple truth.
A few weeks back I had one of those moments. A bad scene, a bad chapter and pretty much a bad idea. The setting was wrong and I knew…
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Nothing in life is more exciting and rewarding
than the sudden flash of insight
that leaves you a changed person —
not only changed, but for the better.
~ Arthur Gordon ~
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