To Write…

That is the question…

At the end of last week, I summoned up a ton of enthusiasm for my so-called writing life and the future of my current WIP. I say so-called, for it hasn’t amounted to much so far this year. There have been a few lively patches of activity, which I thoroughly enjoyed, followed by periods of other such business.

Commonly called life, although I really wish it wouldn’t bother me as I can do without it. This week, for instance, has filled up over the weekend with repairmen, doctor visits and a visiting relative, culminating in Milo’s vet appointment for the snip and chip.

It could be worse, I suppose, as the minute the weather gets warmer, I will need to show my face out there and go through the motions of being a gardener. It has to happen soon, I suppose.

All this lack of writing progress has happened because I have lost my early morning window. This was when I would be the only one awake, and for at least two hours, the writing world would be my oyster.

I have tried to cultivate an evening slot, but I am so tired by then that it hasn’t happened yet. It is beginning to look like I must choose between promoting and/or advertising to get the job done.

Of course, all of this is most distressing, as I have always managed to cope with as many irons in the fire as needed.

Added to all of this is the certain knowledge that time is definitely speeding up.

There used to be time to think, for a start…

We must wait until March 24th! #Fiction

I cannot wait to meet Jed. He reminds me of my long-time spirit dog, Jesse, who comes to me when I’m depressed…

From the bestselling Psychic Surveys series comes a full-length, standalone novel featuring one of its most treasured, formidable, and mysterious characters – Jed.

As soon as Ava Kent spots Jed in her local rescue centre, she knows, just as much as he does, they are perfect for each other. It’s love at first sight, and despite her husband’s misgivings, she offers him a home.

Not much is known of Jed, other than he is a stray picked up from the streets of Eastbourne, but he soon proves himself a loyal and loving companion – in fact, he’s something of a lifesaver. When Ava suffers the traumatic birth of her first child alone at home, it’s Jed that somehow escapes the house to find help.

Ava, though, is plunged into depression. She feels lonely and vulnerable as a new mother, an outcast. It’s as though a darkness has attached itself to her, when previously life was blessed. And it won’t let go.

She’s surrendering to it, bit by bit, almost willingly.

As loving and as loyal as Jed is, he’s just a dog.
Can he save again, someone who doesn’t want to save herself?

About Shani Struthers

Shani Struthers is the author of twenty-six supernatural thrillers (so far), some set in various locations in England, others in more far-flung destinations such as Venice and America. Having been brought up with an understanding of the Occult and alternative views on religion, she threads this knowledge throughout her books, often drawing on real-life experiences of her own, from people she has known and from well-known Occult figures. Her Psychic Surveys series has proved very popular, becoming global Amazon genre bestsellers. There is also the This Haunted World series – standalone books set in and around the world’s most haunted places. They too have topped the Amazon genre charts, along with the more romantic Jessamine and Comraich, plus the Reach for the Dead series. Standalone psychological thriller, Summer of Grace, is also set in America, in the dark heart of Kansas! For Christmas Ghost Stories, check out Blakemort, Eve, Carfax House, The Damned Season and Wildacre.

To keep up to date with new releases, hit the ‘Follow’ button on Amazon and/r subscribe to my newsletter via my website:

Jed will be released on March 24th 2023 ~ Get your copy HERE

A Half Remembered Nightmare… #Poetry

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay  ~ Poem by Anita Dawes

I thought this quite apt this morning, as our lives have become a bit of a nightmare lately…

Post will follow shortly…

At the Movies…

Today we are posting something from both of us with the same theme…

Going to the movies has always been a special treat, so long may it continue!

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay ~ Poetry by Anita Dawes

Now for my favourite!

John Luther is back!

We loved every second of the Luther detective series on TV. The one starring Idris Elba, no connection to Superman!

Idris Elba as John Luther ticked all my boxes, even some I didn’t know I had. When he severely blotted his copybook and was defrocked, or should I say de trench coated from his role as DCI, I was gutted.

Luther: The Fallen Sun

The film opens with Luther in prison, and without letting any cats out of bags, I can say that I was on the edge of my seat, chewing my nails from the get-go.

Totally brilliant and looking utterly wonderful, the film (and Idris) was brilliantly clever, menacing dark and breathtaking. Everything I could ever want.

This was John Luther at his absolute best!

A Game of Two Halves… #Poetry ~ MINDLOVEMISERY ~ Wordle #312

Image by Sergei Tokmakov, Esq. https://Terms.Law from Pixabay 

A Game of Two Halves

I sit in court looking at my hands.
Listening to the racket 
made by the official law giver.
Passing judgement on love
a game of two halves
There is more than 
a single string to the heart
Love goes where it is most needed
He tried to make his point
as to the fault of my crime
The forbidden touch, he called it.
A double back hand 
threw the score in my favour.
Boos and whistles from the public gallery
Shouts of ‘It’s a sin, the Bible says so!’
From early childhood
I have known I was different.
The heart wants what the heart needs.
Now I am free to love again…


Details of taking part in Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie can be found HERE

Saturday… Joy and Confusion…

I hoped to find enough Spring growth to do a Six on Saturday post today. Unfortunately, these were all I could find but such a joy to see.

I also hoped to create a post about my hospital appointment on Thursday. Sadly, the stuff they injected into my arm that day had a weird effect on my brain, rendering me incapable of coherent thought. I slept most of yesterday but feel like my old self today.

I had some amazing news which, although very welcome, created confusion and many questions.

The procedure went well; the only painful bit was putting the catheter in my arm. The lights in the room were lowered, and the machines fired up and stickers placed on my chest. Once the drugs were administered, my heart began to hammer as if trying to get out of my chest. This was only supposed to last a few minutes, but it felt much longer as different parts of my heart were watched and recorded.

So many questions were asked about how I had been feeling lately, and I explained my weakness and breathlessness. The doctor seemed puzzled, and then she said the most amazing thing. That my heart had managed to bypass the blocked artery! It had found another source and was performing beautifully. I couldn’t believe it. All this time, I have been suffering from painful angina, terrible breathlessness and lack of strength, which was all due (I thought) to the totally blocked artery. To be told that my heart was perfectly fine and happy seemed unreal and impossible. My doubts must have shown on my face because she tried to explain it better. There was no way that my heart was causing any of these symptoms; something else was wrong. She advised a full respiratory investigation, as this was where she thought the trouble lay.

So, despite the wonderful news, I had more questions than answers. Worrying questions. I am asthmatic, so well used to that, but it has never made me constantly breathless. And if this pain in my chest isn’t angina, what the hell is it?

Of course, I am delighted that I won’t be having a heart attack any time soon, but I face another long wait for this new investigation. Now that I know I will be around for a while, I have decided to pull myself together, exercise more, lose a few pounds and concentrate on my writing…

Thank you, everyone, for being there for me. Your support was much needed and very appreciated. Bless you, all…

#Throwback Thursday… The Ring… #Fiction

Image by sara graves from Pixabay 

I liked the look of the ring, it had diamonds around the edge and a large amethyst in the centre. Ten pounds, a bargain, I thought.

I decided to pay quickly and look closer when I got home.

The toothless smile from the vendor sent shivers down my back, the look in his eyes none too pleasant. As I hurried away from the stall, I had the feeling something was following me. I turned a few times, but nothing untoward could be seen. I would rather there have been; the unseen worries me more.

I always had a vivid imagination, my mother often said. I need a good imagination as a writer, so I didn’t knock it out. This feeling often brings on a new story.

I jumped on the 49 bus, half an hour, and I would be home. I sat opposite a very old woman wearing shabby clothes. She was staring at my hand.

I thought I heard her say, nice ring.

Again my mind skipped off on some speed dial imagination. It so often runs like water. Not all can be held in mind. It’s a case of catching what you can, writing it down or losing it.

I must have dropped the strange feeling on my doorstep, for I felt better once inside my cosy flat. Thomas, my ginger cat, welcomed me home. I scratched behind his ear and went to make coffee.  I checked my purchase to find that the ring had a nine-carat gold mark on the inside. I had found a treasure…

That night I placed it on my bedside table after writing down all I could remember about my day.

I hoped to sleep like a baby but awoke in a cold sweat. The old lady from the bus had stepped into my dream. She told me the ring belonged to her mother and wanted it back. It was the same voice I had heard on the bus. How could she have known the contents of my bag?

How could I give the ring back to her mother? I’m sure she must be dead, judging the old woman to be about eighty.

It was my day off from work. I would take the ring back to the vendor, hoping he could tell me more about it, but not looking forward to the toothless smile. I walked up and down but couldn’t find his stall. Maybe it was his day off too.

I asked around, but no one knew who I spoke about.

One chap said, ‘we have never had anyone like that working here, and I’ve been here for over ten years. I’m sure I would remember the person you describe.’

Now it seems I am stuck with the ring. Maybe I should throw it into the river, like some ancient votive gift to a God, hoping he or she could spare me from a ghostly visitor trying to retrieve her ring.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry. Ghosts can’t hurt you, can they?

It is gold, after all…