Just 5 days to publication, so just 5 days at 99p!
UK Link: amzn.to/2p4xxzg and US Link: amzn.to/2LXHgjO
I have also been busy creating a book trailer!
I didn’t think I would be able to manage a journal entry this week, due to my involvement with the WIP. The very helpful beta report seemed easy to follow, I originally thought, until I began to sort things out.
You know what happens, what seems like a doddle always seems to end up far more complicated than you first thought. I am past the half- way mark now, (I think) so quite pleased with my progress.
One of the points raised, was that my main character wasn’t expressing himself properly or enough. I tried to find the reason for this, intending to give said character a lot more to say and feel. It was while investigating this, that I realised what the problem was.
His point of view was all wrong.
He needed to be written in the first person, as this would allow him to think and feel far more than he was now. I changed the POV in the first few chapters, just to see if it worked.
At this point, I hadn’t given a thought to how much work this would entail, or that it would delay the launch procedure even more. But I really liked the result, so will just have to work harder!
Changing the subject completely, I have been watching the second series of Keeping Faith on a box set as a means of unwinding at the end of some very complicated days. I have been blown away by this mystery drama and all the emotion displayed by all the cast members in this series. I’m a sucker for beautiful theme music and FF has a good one, so I thought I would share it with you.
By the time you hear from me again, I hope to have some really good news for a change!
To enter here is to lose your mind, your life
The house is reforming, rebuilding itself
Moving rooms from one end to the other
Building new ones, losing others
Should you be in one when it is lost
There is no telling where you will end up
Or how you will return to your own world
The house does not like the door shut
It is jammed open by a strange slab of concrete
Wedged tight against the bottom of the doorframe
Another, sloping away wedged against the outer frame
Making sure the door stays where it is
The interior is dark, moody, full of menace
Some say this is due to the missing rooms
The souls lost in the vanishing
It is a soundless place, yet the air is full of wanting
The door jam quivers as if something below
Is trying to move them, to close the door
To keep all trapped inside
Moving them around, like living pieces on a chess board
Outside there is a board with names of the foolish ones who entered
And yet the rooms appear to be completely empty
If you ask the locals, why they haven’t pulled the place down
They will tell you they have tried
Hammers bounce off the walls as if they are made of rubber
A lit match has no effect, the flame blows out
Before you can touch the building
They stand outside yelling, let us know you are still there
No returning sound has ever been heard
Others will tell you it’s not true, just Chinese Whispers
An old building left to rot, nothing more
Would you enter to find the truth?
Would you walk through those empty rooms?
As I am not able to do much about anything bonsai this week, owing to being in the uneven and weird world of having one good eye and one that is frankly rubbish, I thought I would share the other part of bonsai that I love.
And this is watching someone else create a beautiful bonsai.
This video is from Graham W Potter and I must have watched him work so many times. To say he has been a constant source of inspiration would be an understatement!
While we are looking at an expert, I have remembered something I want to do next week, once the restriction on bending over is lifted. My neighbour has a sapling oak tree that is growing up against a wall in the front garden, and when I heard that she would be removing it and would likely kill it, I volunteered to rescue it. It has been there some years now, kept small by all the constant pruning and from what I can see, has developed a good trunk.
I will have my camera handy and will document the rescue somehow…
When I was seven, my mother bought me a black velvet dress for my birthday. It had a white collar with white cuffs on the small puff sleeves.
I felt like a princess, and couldn’t stop rubbing my hands over it. Mother told me to stop doing it, as I would ruin it.
My stepfather Joe said he would take me and my brothers to the park. As we left the house, my mother said not to give me any ice cream.
We played on the swings for a bit and then Joe brought my brother’s some ice cream.
I walked away, wondering if he would do as he was told. I didn’t go far, for I hoped I knew better than that and I was right. Joe handed me an ice cream, telling me to please be careful.
I said I would, but what child can eat an ice cream without getting it down themselves? Not me anyway. I kept rubbing at it, making it worse. The velvet was sticking up where I had rubbed it and there was no way to hide it.
All the way home, I wished Joe would run away with us, but he told me not to worry. He would say it was his fault, which in a way it was for buying it for me. I know that’s an unkind thought, but when we got home before he could say a word, mother ripped the dress from my body, leaving her nail marks on my back because the fabric was too hard to tear.
Joe got both barrels of her temper until I thought his ears would swell and drop off.
This memory has returned, because my daughter who lives next door, was playing a song I haven’t heard for a long time. It was one of my favourites, called Black Velvet.
It’s a funny old life isn’t it, the way old memories come back?
Anita Dawes 2018
Book Description for Let it Go…
You read about families where everyone is happy and life is wonderful.
That wasn’t my family.
My mother coped patiently with a drunken, obsessive gambler of a husband and a daughter with an insatiable sexual appetite. I loved my father, but he kept us one step away from the poor house. Loving my sister was harder, basically because she hated me and constantly brought trouble to the door.
Me? I couldn’t wait to grow up and live my own life.
Then everything changed. Unbelievably, Dad won a guest house in a card game and suddenly we were off to a new life in Cornwall. A beautiful place, steeped in legend and mystery. Would trouble leave us alone now, or was it merely biding its time?
On one of our trips to Cornwall, we decided to seek out St Nectan’s Glen.
Not realising there was a short cut, we took the long walk through the fields along a small path to get to the Falls. Single file small!
There were cliffs to one side, the other a sheer drop that was full of trees, nothing soft to break a fall. I moaned all the way there, to find the waterfall at the end, the most wonderful sight.
Jaye had stepped into her own paradise, her love of water. It was plain to see, her face lit up as if the sun shone where there was none.
We noticed people high on a ridge, at the top of the waterfall.
Jaye has a fear of heights, but that day she conquered it, to get as close as she could to the top of the Falls. I am not kidding when I say that there was barely room for a pigeon on this ridge. There we were, my entire family, along with any future grandchildren I might have, vanished in fear.
Squeezing past people coming down was the moment I realised just how dangerous this was. Even now, when I think about it, I remember the nightmares I suffered. I still believe we were fools to have climbed up there.
We found our way to the small hut where St Nectan lived out his days. We signed the visitor book. Back on the flat ground, I gave a sigh of relief. Never again, I said, more times than I can count.
The thing I remember most was the deafening sound of the water and how cold it felt. Would I go again?
Maybe, but taking the shortcut, and no climbing high…
(This was Anita’s memory of the day I posted about HERE )
This magical photograph is of an actual place in Cornwall. I know because I have been there. I have stood beneath it, getting soaked to the skin and I have climbed up the rocks and stood looking down at the majesty that is moving thundering water. The sight and sound of it put something in my soul that I know wasn’t there before. It was a truly wonderful experience, and if I had the money I would move to Cornwall just to be near it. And I would have to go and experience Niagara Falls! (mind you, I may never come home again if I ever get there!)
If you ever feel a little bit worthless or a waste of space, and I believe a lot of us do feel that way sometimes, you need a place like this. You need to be able to see and feel something that you just know is stronger and more powerful than anything you have seen or felt before. Once you find it, you will be a different person, believe me. I always love to be near water, any kind of water. I wanted to live on a boat when I was growing up and it still appeals to me.
The first time I went to Cornwall I was not really prepared for just how much that County had to offer. Apart from all the quaint old villages, there were magical forests, wonderfully rugged beaches and coves, dramatic rock formations and inspiring scenery everywhere you looked. I have had more inspiring moments in Cornwall than just about anywhere else.
I need some of that inspiration round about now as I am still trying to finish PayBack, my current WIP. Getting to grips with the editing, but I have yet to reach that moment when the end is in sight. This story is something I have wanted to do for a long time now, and I am determined to try and get it right. One way or another I will get it right and get it done, but where is my inspiration at the moment?
I think it is back in Cornwall without me…
This week the weather has been the least of our worries.
We were all too busy worrying about the imminent arrival of our new baby.
Tension had built to breaking point and all of our stress levels were on overload.
We knew the date he/she was expected to arrive, but it was beginning to look as though baby had other ideas. It became impossible to concentrate on anything else.
Somehow, the days passed but no work was being done. Nothing creative anyway. We busied ourselves with chores we could do with our eyes shut, trying so hard not to give voice to our concerns.
The day baby chose to arrive seemed surreal. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, but finally, she was here. Perfectly beautiful and content to sleep through the constant stream of family members, all eager to see her.
The release of tension left me drained, and instead of picking up my WIP to resume editing, I wanted to run and shout, go somewhere or do something to replenish my mojo. It was a sunny day, the wind was chilly, but I didn’t care. I needed to be near the sea, as nothing else has ever soothed my soul like the ocean.
For once I didn’t get an argument and we piled into the car and took off. Half an hour later, I stood on the shingle. The tide was in and a strong wind was creating dramatic waves that crashed on to the beach. My eyes filled with tears at the sight and sound of it, and I relaxed for the first time in days.
I had my camera with me and tried to capture the majesty of the moment. The wind had turned icy, and by the time I had finished, my hands were almost blue with the cold. But my mojo felt as if it had been born again.
Altogether, a very special day if you ask me…
I walk under a black and white moon
in fresh snowfall, soft and sparkling
as if made from fallen stars.
Shadows slide across the ground
Beneath snow-laden trees, lies Folcor
A beautiful white dragon, made from luck.
He sleeps, waiting for the first breath of spring.
Before he wakes, whisper your wish in his ear
he will carry it back to the beginning of time
opening new doorways
Letting new luck enter the universe.
The life you wished for circled back in time
to greet you under the snow-laden trees
where Folcor lies sleeping…
This is what I saw when I looked at Sue’s image…
For those of you who won’t know who Folcor is, I include the trailer from Never Ending Story…