Can You Read This?

Can you read this?

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too.

Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe can.

i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, th e olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

The Grammarian

A businessman had invited his friend the schoolmaster for a trip on his boat. It was a hot day, and while the businessman attended to the steering and navigation, the schoolmaster relaxed on the deck.

After a while, the schoolmaster asked, "What will the weather be like?"

The businessman looked to the sky, sniffed the air, and checked the direction of the wind. "We's going to have a storm," he said.

The schoolmaster was shocked. "You can't say 'We's'! Don't you know grammar? You should say, 'We're ... We're going to have a storm.' My friend, if you don't know grammar you've wasted half your life."

The businessman merely shrugged his shoulders and carried on navigating the boat with skill and an eye on the horizon.

Some time later, as the businessman had predicted, a huge storm blew up. The wind was high, the waves were huge, and the little boat was swamped with water.

Over the roar of the storm, the businessman was heard to shout to the schoolmaster, "Have you learned to swim?"

"No," shouted the schoolmaster. "Why on earth should I have learned to swim?"

"In that case," said the businessman grinning from ear to ear, "you've wasted half your life, because we's going to sink."

Who says she can't handle this!!!

So where is she?

I heard...

(don't think it's a secret)

she received her first ever rejection today

Yeh ...

I brought her this gorgeous blue flower.

Sort o' thought it kinda matched her mood.

xxxxx She can share my favourite toy -

xxxxx But I want it back, later.

I've brought her

lots and lots

of pink roses.

I mean - PINK ROSES!

Who can fail to share

a smile over pink roses!

Naaah ...

You've all got it wrong.

She just needs some French bread

smothered in chocolate.

Just wait.

You'll see.

Back to writerly matters!

I may not be nipping in here for a while but - Hey! Hey! Hey! -
I've posted off my first three chapters to my favoured agent!!!
Let the dreaded wait commence ... Ooo eck (Gulp).

Just because...

Because it's Easter

And I like this!

On writing ... someone once said...

"Let my name stand among those who are willing to bear ridicule and reproach for the truth's sake, and so earn some right to rejoice when victory is won."
Louisa May Alcott

"You have a good many little gifts and virtues, but there is no need of parading them, for conceit spoils the finest genius. There is not much danger that real talent or goodness will be overlooked long; even if it is, the consciousness of possessing and using it well should satisfy one, and the great charm of all power is modesty."
Luisa May Alcott

"Talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great or nothing. I won't be a commonplace daubler, so I don't intend to try anymore."
Louisa May Alcott
(All sounds a bit contradictory to me)

"A novel invites digression and a little relaxation of the grip because a reader can't endure being held that tightly in hand for so long a time."
Tobias Wolff

"Writing is sweat and drudgery most of the time, and you have to love it in order to endure the solitude and discipline."
Peter Benchley

"A word after a word is power."
Margaret Atwood

"A ratio of failures is built into the process of writing. The wastebasket has evolved for this reason."
Margaret Atwood

"Just nipping out to buy some wastebaskets."
Fabia

Stranger than Fiction

I have been away - unexpectedly - in another place. I have really been away in another world, a world of which I never would have believed I would ever encounter, let alone carry it on my shoulder. Over the past few weeks I have experienced the meaning of the word 'surreal'. I have been living in a world 'stranger than fiction' and I have to return to this 'other' world (on and off) for an indefinite period (you are forgiven for wrongly thinking it's a hospital for the insane!!!). But ironically, I need to nip in here and keep in touch with my novel (which is not stranger than fiction) in order to maintain a sense of normality, if you see what I mean. I'm sure this post cannot make sense to any reader (other than all those who know what's happening) and it is April Fools Day here, but believe me, when all is revealed - and all will be revealed - all will be understood. And no it's not just another excuse for procrastinating with the book!!! Oh how I wish!

Any excuse will do!

In case anyone is wondering ...

'Cause I was wondering ...

I'm busy doing research on some legalities required in the story line.

Well, that's my excuse for the lack of increase in my word count.

Non-Fiction!!!

Jut popped in to say I've been spending some 'unexpected' though delightful 'non-fictional' time with my beautiful grandchildren - back soon!

Time for a Word

'Oh! Do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.' ~~~~~ Jane Austen ~ 1775 ~ 1817

'The great French Marshall Lyautey once asked his gardener to plant a tree. The gardener objected that the tree was slow growing and would not reach maturity for 100 years. The Marshall replied, "In that case, there is no time to lose; plant it this afternoon!" ~~~~~~ J.F.Kennedy

I did it!

I did it!

I did it!

I did it!

In one wild burst of creative enlightenment ...

I completed the end of chapter three ... Phew!

(Sorry about the mess)

Imprisoned in a Word

Here I am in my Ivory Tower. Do you see that Turret on the right - that's the one - well that's me (the recluse) by the window in the east wing. The light is fading.
Have I written any more of the novel? Yes I have.
Do I like what I've written? Well, yes ... yes I do, actually.
So am I ready to mail it off to the agent?

Oh Gawd...

That elusive last sentence for chapter three is all that falls between me and the slush pile.

Now this could take some time...

Does a Picture Paint a Thousand Words?

My novel is an inspirational story; a thought provoking observation of emotional conflict, consequential loss, and poignant acceptance. I am not ready to share a synopsis of the story (aspiring novelists can be quite precious - paranoid even - about revealing our work to anyone other than an editor or publisher) so I thought I'd illustrate a visual taste of the 'time and place' setting of the book. Of course the novel doesn't include any illustrations, but these are just some of the images that fill my mind as I write the words...


The story is set in the 'here and now' but at times we are transported back to the post war years of the mid forties and fifties.
We learn of the struggles of the residents in the declining city centre of Manchester, and the promise of a better lifestyle by relocating to the suburbs, where there are 'trees in the streets'.
In particular, we follow the remarkable aspirations of one little girl, born into this golden era, as she embarks on an inspirational journey of passion, grief and self-discovery...





We indulge in the opulence of prestige properties in Cheshire, the 'stockbroker belt of the north'
where the nouveau riche and the noble gentry nestle side by side in the established country houses and the tastefully converted, (though sometimes ostentatious) luxury penthouses.




And as we become more deeply engrossed, life's journey finds us soaking in the passion that is Spain. Not the Spain of the tourist. No. I speak of the Spain that captivates only those fortunate enough to recognise the very soul of its culture, the remarkable essence of its passion for life, and the endearing sincerity of its people.

As the slogan says; You think you know Spain?
Think again

This is the inner court-yard of an elegant house in Madrid where resides an elderly woman, Sophia, a feisty character in my novel. It is the setting for several passages of dialogue that have a disturbing effect on my main character, Beth.

The roses depict The Garden of One Hundred Thousand Roses - a beautiful park in Madrid which I have visited on many occasions in my life, many years ago, when I lived close-by. This park features in a poignant scene in the novel.

With ongoing choices between passion and compassion, a voyage drenched in grief takes us on a transitional journey of self-doubt and self sacrifice, to a destination of a true recognition of self worth.

For Beth; choices, decisions, consequences.

For Jonathan; suffering, selfless sacrifice, despair.

This is not a 'rags to riches' story, though that does feature as a backdrop. Neither is it a love story, though some may argue that.

It is an observation of grief.

I have written and polished over ten thousand words.

The first three chapters.

Ah well, just another eighty thousand to go ...

In Progress

As I said, I have written the first three chapters; I need to add another paragraph or so. The end of chapter three is fine, as is, and anyone reading the complete novel is likely to continue because the current ending, followed by the opening line to chapter four, facilitates this, beautifully. However, agents and publishers usually request a submission of the first three chapters only, and I feel there is something I could add to help ensure that they will want to read on; and thereby request the complete novel for submission.
This has been the cause of my 'Stuckness'. I will master this dilemma within the next few days and I will post off my submission to the agent. Then will commence the dreaded wait for my first experience of rejection. To those not familiar with the 'aspiring novelist' procedure, I want to say that I am not being pessimistic, just realistic. It's a sorry but well accepted fact that the majority of submissions are rejected time and time again. So, you ask, why bother at all? Because deep down we all believe that someone, somewhere, will recognise our little 'best seller'. Note, if I should defy all the odds and receive a request for the complete manuscript - then I'm really in the poo - the rest of the novel (although complete) has yet to transfer from my brain onto paper!!! What a glorious problem to have though!

About Time

There is a time for all things; now is the time. About time, is what I'm really saying. About time that I continued writing my novel. Note, I say 'continued' not 'started' because I drafted, wrote, and polished the first three chapters two years ago. I actually wrote the first page over twenty-five years ago ... and then, life got in the way. But the fiction could wait, for the real stuff was more important, more fulfilling, more rewarding, and - by far - more precious. The real stuff was my family, my business, and my personal development; each, in themselves, such things as novels are made of...
Now, as I find myself living in - what I sometimes perceive as - a sequel to the life I knew and loved, now is the time to complete the novel that has lay dormant for so long.
It will not be left to languish...