Silent Sunday… Autumn in waiting…

Image by yoshitaka2 from Pixabay 

Today will be a good day… I am writing the new WIP!

Letters to a Friend ~ Part Two ~ #Fiction

My Dearest Anne,

After receiving your letter last week, I had a lot to think about and to tell you. First, I am so pleased that Jack’s landscape business is doing so well that he has employed you to do the books. I will take up your suggestion of checking the census to see if I can find out more about Flo and Albert.

However, I must tell you, I decided to check the attic as you suggested and under a loose floorboard by the round window seat, I found love letters to Flo from someone called Margaret. From the contents, I could tell they were very much in love. I cannot tell if Albert knew about this.

The strange thing is, ever since finding them and reading them, Flo has been quiet. Not a peep from her all last week. Albert, on the other hand, is haunting my dreams. He stands beside my bed, telling me to look under the step. I can only assume he means the front step.

Can you imagine what Richard would do if I started digging it up? I can already see the men in white jackets arriving.

Night after night, Albert is most insistent, so I have decided to ask Richard if we can have a porch built. In light of having parcels left on the doorstep, he thinks this is a good idea. The builders will be starting in two weeks’ time.

It may be nothing, but I am worried as to why Flo is being so quiet.

I loved your idea of writing a book about this, and I am giving it thought.

Richard is still wondering why I use pen and paper rather than email. I tell him that emails are too impersonal when talking with a friend.

Looking forward to your next letter,

Your dearest friend,

            Alice

to be continued…

another episode of Anita’s WIP… possibly a new book! what do you think of it so far?

Letters to a Friend… #Fiction #WIP

Letters to a Friend

My Dearest Anne

I wish you were here; America seems so far away. I am writing today as I feel I am losing my mind. Of late, I am hearing two voices clearly, in my mind. Florence and Albert Wilson, they say. Florence insists on being called Flo.

They tell me they are my parents. They tell me my soul belongs to the five-year-old son they lost. They have mentioned so many things that I know, such as the birthmark I have behind my right ear that their son also had.

Certain habits make me wonder, am I hearing them, or is it my imagination? I cannot be sure. One afternoon, I imagined them sitting in a small parlour tuning into an old radio, looking for their lost son. They tell me that is precisely how it is. The frequencies they can tune into, and somehow, they managed to find me.

If I am to believe such a thing, does that mean there are no new souls? That we are all second-hand, recycled human beings?

It made me wonder, could that be why I was such a tomboy? Why my mother had a hard time getting me to wear dresses? How I have always liked to beat the boys at any game? Especially climbing trees and collecting conkers.

Should I have been born a boy?

I must say, I never felt like a boy. I like being a woman and mother of two boys. My husband, Richard, tells me I am overworked. He doesn’t understand, although I am busy with my new commission. The author sought me out herself, as she loved the drawings I did for my last commission.

I do not believe that is the problem. They almost know what I think before I think it. Last night I had a strange thought. Could a person be born with two souls? That one soul being so much younger than the other? Could that be why I chose to be an illustrator for children’s books?

Maybe I have that wrong. If indeed I have two souls, I cannot know how old the other may be. I cannot help believing that Florence and Albert are real. They have told me so much about themselves. Where they were born, where they lived, so many places, until Albert’s father died, and he inherited three grocery shops. That, Flo, tells me, is when they settled down.

One thing that unnerves me a little is Flo tells me they lived in my house for three years.

My dearest friend, please don’t think me crazy. Please write back soon, as I know you will put my mind at ease.

                                  Your dearest friend

                                                     Alice

To be continued…

©AnitaDawes2022

WIP Wednesday…

I thought I would get to the end of my current WIP, Ghost of a Chance, yesterday…

BUT…

I expect many of you have reached this point, only to have the same thing happen to you.

In my head, one by one, each character had a but, and to be fair, they were legitimate buts.

Consequently, I spent the evening reviewing their ideas. I realised the story was nowhere near finished.

I eventually switched off my brain and went to bed after scribbling several pages of notes and detailed plans for at least three more chapters. As I fell asleep, I knew why this had happened. It had happened before with one of my earlier books. After staring at the story, day after day, I had become obsessed with coming to the end, as if this would magically be the answer. Of course, it never is. On that earlier occasion, the ending I came up with was rushed, and it showed. Badly…

Endings are so essential to get right. It’s a shame they came at a time when we wish we hadn’t started…

Is this bad habit just me, or have any of you had this problem?

Friday Follow Up…

There’s not much to follow up on this week, as it hasn’t been much of a week, to be honest.

Even with the increasing heat, we have tried to carry on as normal, but…

There’s always at least one but, isn’t there?

The biggest annoyance this week has been the way the internet is behaving lately. I blame the internet, for the want of something concrete to aim my wrath at, but in all fairness, I’m not sure what is happening, or who is doing it.

I seem to run into problems no matter what I try to do, these days. Quite reduces my joy in blogging, to be honest.

I have always enjoyed reading posts, making a point to share my thoughts, and liking and commenting where necessary. These days most of the like buttons I press don’t work and any comments I make are not accepted, so the poor recipient cannot appreciate my visit. Needless to say, this is most annoying.

Anyway, enough of the moaning.

Work is going well with the WIP, Ghost of a Chance. The end is in sight, just visible behind a mountain of loose ends.

We have a new cover for The Scarlet Ribbon and will be promoting it next week.

New Cover

We shall be taking part in #Six on Saturday tomorrow, as everything is growing like crazy at the moment.

See you then, and stay cool…

Jaye

WIP Wednesday… Ghost of a Chance…

I thought I had better update my progress today before my muse and/or madness put an end to my struggles.

I think I mentioned last week that there was a serious problem with the plot of my work in progress, Ghost of a Chance. Despite all the patience in the world and several brainstorming sessions, I don’t think I am getting anywhere. Fast.

In fact, the more I study it, I keep finding other problems too. Of course, none of this is supposed to be happening before the end is written, but probably better now than later. At the close of play yesterday (I am joking by the way) there seems to be three muddles. The major one, where a crucial moment seems to have happened far too late in the story, and second, I seem to have written the same conversation in at least three chapters. Added to this list is a character I seem to have forgotten all about.

I almost concluded that the bin was the best place for it, but luckily, my stubborn streak wouldn’t let me do it.

On a more positive note, I have managed to isolate one particular chapter, and if it can be sorted out, will point the way to a satisfactory outcome.

So, this is my target for this afternoon… and unbelievably, I am looking forward to it!

This is the working cover for Ghost of a Chance…

Jaye’s Week…

November first and winter is snapping at our heels.

Fed up with the pervading chill, we gave in and turned on the heating yesterday and the warmth was very welcome.

The leaves are falling in earnest, but I refuse to sweep them up every blessed day as it seems soul-destroying to see them gathering again the minute I put the broom away!

Maple, Fall, Multicoloured, Nature

The bonsai seem reluctant to shed their leaves, but as the temperature continues to fall, I know they will join in eventually.

Christmas lurks at the back of my mind, and I hope it stays there a while longer. Everything is changing so fast, I try not to make any predictions, hopeful or otherwise as actually having a Christmas of any kind is looking doubtful.

This year has been difficult, to put it mildly. Plans have had to be put on hold or abandoned completely while life continues to mess everything up. I continue to do what I can when I can. Any kind of movement is good, I think.

Finishing the WIP is foremost in my mind, as Ghost of a Chance (Book Four of the DI Snow series) is turning out to be the hardest story to write. Although I am enjoying it when life leaves me alone long enough!

This post should have been a newsletter, as we have been derelict in this department for a while, but until I finish (trying) to switch to MailerLite, there doesn’t seem to be any point…

Here’s hoping November will be a good month for all of us…

One Good Lie a Day ~ or Make Believe?

The following is a work in progress from Anita, possibly the start of a novel. We would welcome any feedback from our friends and followers as to its future…

Make Believe

I decided it might be fun to make up one good lie a day about my past.

So the next time someone asked me about my parents, I said they had died in a car crash when I was five years old. When in fact, they are alive and kicking and on holiday in Gibraltar.

Instant sad face.

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry…’

‘No need, it was a long time ago.’

That one lie led to many more.

‘So who brought you up?’

‘An aunt. Ancient I might add, so life was a little stale, compared to my friends. Old fashioned, I ran away when I was sixteen. I’m only back for the funeral and will reading. That old mansion of hers is mine. You must come to tea sometime.’

As I walked home, not to a mansion, I might add, I wondered how I could stop this rolling stone from gathering more moss…


Today’s lie has taken on a life of its own.

One minute I hear myself telling someone, ‘my father is an airline pilot.’ Next, ‘he’s a backing singer for the Rolling Stones. My mother is starring in a movie with David Tennant,’ when in fact my mother works in M & S, my father drives a black cab.

Is that more lies?

‘I have been married for three years. It’s our anniversary tonight. Mark, my husband has bought a new car for me. One I have dreamt about. Imported from the USA, a red mustang convertible.’ So I must rush home, ladies. I want to be there when it arrives.’

I heard a little voice in my head say, one of these days, you’ll trip over that tongue of yours.

I had to admit, the lies did explode that day, like a bomb going off but somehow, I managed to keep up with it and sound convincing. At least I could see no trace of doubt on their faces.

All that, and I had forgotten to tell them where Mark had taken me when he proposed. Never mind, there’s always tomorrow.

I’m not married, never have been.

One day, Mark or someone like him might come into my life. I could find myself driving down the high street in a red convertible mustang, don’t you think?


I have one of those faces people like to talk to. I sit in a café, before my coffee is half drunk, someone sits opposite me. I send them home with a story to tell their friends. That way my lies go further than my reach.

I have joined two book clubs, need to keep a check on which lies belong to which club. I know I can’t keep this up for too long, however you’d be surprised by how many people I managed to speak to. Some, in the strangest of places.

Ladies toilets for instance. Standing in a queue, I have found bumping into someone’s trolley in a supermarket to be good for a quick chat. Especially if you manage to make eye contact.

Apologies spoken, you pass each other in the next aisle, as if fate has thrown you together you end up at the same check out. I have even been lucky enough to snag a date on one of my shopping trips…


©anitadawes 2020

The Dying of the Light…

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The Dying of the Light

The trick is to avoid all the things she knows she cannot do anymore, but this is easier to do than keeping her hands out of the biscuit tin.

She is becoming an expert at ignoring the elephant in the room. She sees him, watching her with that wise knowing look in his eyes, but if she doesn’t acknowledge him or admit his presence to anyone, she can go on pretending that everything is fine.

Pretend that the painful, spiteful remarks don’t slice her soul to the bone, making her want to curl up and die in a corner, or scream louder than the pain, in an effort to keep her temper from overwhelming and drowning her.

Somehow, she maintains a humorous attitude, something she has carefully cultivated. Smiling at her tormentors, even laughing at their cruel jokes and the things they say. She has learned that to show the damage they do only increases their enjoyment at her distress.

She knows they are waiting for her to die, to be finally rid of her and the elephant in the room, the constant reminder that they too will grow old.

She must ignore them, for she cannot find the will or the strength to walk away from them. One of these days she hopes she will manage to summon some vestige of effort, before her time runs out. She dreams of spending her last days in peace and tranquillity, far from all the hatred and cruelty and the critical gaze of the large grey animal in the corner of the room…

Anita’s WIP, explained…

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In a land called Summer, lived a man named David.

Who sold his soul back to God to save the life of an angel whose wings had not yet formed.

Whose life had not yet been lived…

 

When we posted this last week, I had strict instructions.  Instructions I either didn’t fully understand, or promptly forgot!

However, this did not escape Anita’s eagle eyes…

She wanted me to ask all of you, (those who might like the idea) to add a few lines of your own to this snippet of an idea. And I was to run it again… getting it right this time!

If you would like to add something, jot it down in the comments and I will keep adding them to the post! I will be the first to admit this is one crazy idea, but Anita gets them all the time…and sometimes they create something really special.

It could be interesting to see what happens, don’t you think?