Perception and emotion
Played on the screen of the heart
My youngest granddaughter was three at the weekend. Her parents hired a bouncy castle for the day; Imogen and her big sister dragged the Grandmasaurus and her companion into the depths of the pink inflatable to bounce, be chased and jumped upon. We still had time to sit quietly, with grass-stained feet, playing with the dinosaurs before the other children arrived. I wondered how much of the day Imogen would recall in later years. It set me off thinking… and remembering being three.
It is odd how memory works, sometimes defying logic. For well over half a century, I have remembered a TV programme, in great detail, from my very earliest years. It was one of the BBC’s ‘Watch with Mother‘ broadcasts and it was my favourite at the time. I just…
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In these times when the world is a mess, when I’m hardly able to write, when I can’t make daily trips to the ocean to get my world back in order and I’m not even painting much, the one thing I can still depend on is music.
Whether I need peace, need simple pleasure, need to wallow in self-pity, or need to boot my butt out of the chair and away from the computer, I can depend on music to do the job for me.
And I’m forever grateful to a wide range of artists–people, simple humans I have never met–who somehow manage to touch my soul.
Among a very long list of favorites are The Pentatonix, Il Divo, Streisand, Adele, Jennifer Nettles, Lady Gaga, Pink, Carole King, Bee Gees, Roberta Flack, Johnny Reid and many more.
Some of my favorite songs are: Sounds of Silence, Hallelujah, Imagine, Believe, Stay…
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Today, a random question shocked me. My colleague asked about my Labor Day plans. What? I grabbed my calendar and confirmed the distressing truth. Labor Day, summer’s death knell, is a few weeks away. In 41 days, we mark the Autumn Equinox. Where did summer go? I have noticed the daily sunsets are earlier, and sunrises are a little late. A hint of fall creeps in at unexpected moments. It stalks my verdant garden.
This year’s legacy is craziness, unanticipated adjustments, and boatloads of uncertainty. Caught in the whirlwind of making it all work, time has evaporated. Like it or not, summer must soon give way to crisp breezes and falling leaves. Summer is not lost. September yet lies on the horizon, and the opportunity to reclaim the expansive vacation hours I remember from my childhood, rest in the tip of my pen.
I won’t let September steamroll me, leaving…
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Image by Pixabay
Hi, SEers John here with you. Today I want to share some information I learned from Dave Chesson on pre-orders on Amazon. As you may know, Dave is the founder of Publisher Rocket, and he is one of the foremost experts on all things Amazon.
Used with permission
The question I want to answer is, do pre-orders help or hinder a book launch? Since I’m getting ready to launch Eternal Road – The last stop, I did some research on the idea of whether or not pre-orders are a good thing.
Here is what I learned. Pre-orders work like magic if you are an author with the following attributes.
- You are famous
- You have a large following
- You are a marketing genius with an iron-clad launch plan.
I don’t fit into any of those categories. So, I am subject to some of the facts of life of…
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Remember those four stories I unpublished a few weeks ago? They’ll be back soon, along with ten others, behind this cover.
Seven stories from the world of Audrey Driscoll’s Herbert West Series, followed by seven other tales of illusions, delusions, and mysteries from the edges of logic.
This collection of fourteen short stories will be available for preorder within the next ten days.
The Dawn Wind.
At two o’clock in the morning, if you open your window and
You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle, and the trees in the moonlight
And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Back comes the Wind full strength with a blow like an angel’s
Gentle but waking the world, as he shouts: “The Sun! The
And the light floods over the fields and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies…
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