Sharon Kendrick's Blog, page 6
August 21, 2013
STRUGGLING WITH A SULTAN
I love this song. Sexy, tortured and struttingly outrageous. That twanging gee-tar! That soaring voice!It's been incredibly helpful while I've been STRUGGLING WITH MY SULTAN'S MOTIVATION!
So which song would you play if you were struggling with a Sultan?
So which song would you play if you were struggling with a Sultan?
August 19, 2013
SULTANS, SHEIKHS AND NEW BOOKS
People always ask writers where they get their inspiration from and the flip answer is: "look around". Seriously, there is always something to stir the imagination no matter where you are or what you're doing. A puddle on a dirty railway station can reflect the beautiful sky above -and every single person you talk to will have an interesting story to tell, if you ask the right questions.
I am still struggling with Murat the Magnificent, the very sexy and dominant Sultan of Qurhah and the man who has made a shadowy appearance in the first two books of my desert trilogy. I've recently discovered that his story is going to be called SEDUCED BY THE SULTAN which is my title, and which I love.
And here's a photo taken of me at a book-signing in Atlanta last month, just to remind me that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that books you sometimes struggle with DO get published!
A WHISPER OF DISGRACE (featuring red-hot Sheikh Kulal and the feisty Rosa Corretti) is out in the US today.
I am still struggling with Murat the Magnificent, the very sexy and dominant Sultan of Qurhah and the man who has made a shadowy appearance in the first two books of my desert trilogy. I've recently discovered that his story is going to be called SEDUCED BY THE SULTAN which is my title, and which I love.
And here's a photo taken of me at a book-signing in Atlanta last month, just to remind me that there is light at the end of the tunnel and that books you sometimes struggle with DO get published!
A WHISPER OF DISGRACE (featuring red-hot Sheikh Kulal and the feisty Rosa Corretti) is out in the US today.
August 17, 2013
CONTRAST & COMPARE
Next week I have a book out. It's being published on August 20th in North America and it's called A WHISPER OF DISGRACE.It features one extremely hot Sheikh, a feisty Sicilian beauty and the kind of bitter secret which tears families apart. It's been receiving the kind of reviews which make me purr with pleasure and I happen to love it.
This is the NA cover:
And this is the UK cover:
You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?
Which one do you like best?
This is the NA cover:
And this is the UK cover:
You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?
Which one do you like best?
August 6, 2013
FRACKING AWFUL
So. If ever I start moaning or grouching or worrying about fracking - I'm just going to look at this picture and take myself back there.
Bliss.
Bliss.
July 30, 2013
HE LOOKS LIKE PIERCE BROSNAN
but really, he's my super-sexy Sheikh Kulal. I hope you like him....
July 26, 2013
SUBLIME SUMMER & PEACOCKS
There are few things lovelier than walking through a field of ripening wheat. So here, for a taste of English summer - drum-role - I give you a view of the Hampshire countryside.
While weaving my way through the bosky lanes, I spotted something I hadn't seen for years....a peacock butterfly. Terrible to think I used to capture them and then put them in a jam-jar. Which was probably why this one kept flitting away - informed by the spirit of some long-lost relative.
Eventually, I managed to take a picture from a distance - which I didn't think was too bad for an iPhone. Isn't it pretty?
While weaving my way through the bosky lanes, I spotted something I hadn't seen for years....a peacock butterfly. Terrible to think I used to capture them and then put them in a jam-jar. Which was probably why this one kept flitting away - informed by the spirit of some long-lost relative.
Eventually, I managed to take a picture from a distance - which I didn't think was too bad for an iPhone. Isn't it pretty?
July 25, 2013
SOME ARE BORN FOR SWEET DELIGHT
Either nobody guessed or nobody worked their way through William Blake's long poem to find the title of one of Agatha Christie's books (and one of my more haunting favourites) in yesterday's blog. So I've given you a whacking great clue in today's title.
Today, I'm flagging up a book cover which arrived this morning. The very sweet man who delivered it said, "Sign here, girly" which I know would have infuriated some of my more radical feminist friends - but I am shallow enough to have smiled (particularly as I hadn't even washed my hair!).
Today, I'm flagging up a book cover which arrived this morning. The very sweet man who delivered it said, "Sign here, girly" which I know would have infuriated some of my more radical feminist friends - but I am shallow enough to have smiled (particularly as I hadn't even washed my hair!).
July 24, 2013
AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE
While out walking over beautiful St Catherine's Hill, I came across this thistle. As thistles go, it's pretty big - but when photographed against the panoramic view - it becomes enormous.
Like many things, it's all a question of how you look at things; of perspective.
It reminded me of the poem by William Blake - which talks about the beauty of small things, and of looking closely...
It's a gorgeous (and very long!) poem and includes some lines near the end which Agatha Christie used to title one of her haunting murder stories. Any idea which one I mean?
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day
Like many things, it's all a question of how you look at things; of perspective.
It reminded me of the poem by William Blake - which talks about the beauty of small things, and of looking closely...
It's a gorgeous (and very long!) poem and includes some lines near the end which Agatha Christie used to title one of her haunting murder stories. Any idea which one I mean?
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day
July 23, 2013
SHEIKS & SULTANS & MARGARET MITCHELL
I'm still on a bit of a high after this year's RWA conference which was held in Atlanta.
This southern city provided some amazing memories: fried cheesecake, the biggest aquarium in the world, unbelievably friendly people and some magnificent storms.
Oh, and the discovery that the legendary Margaret Mitchell also wrote about Sheiks - so I feel I'm in very exalted company!
Here's an article she did for The Atlanta Journal (which still exists today as ajc.com)
Don't you just love the illustrations?
Today I'm back at work, creating the story of Catrin and Murat.
Catrin is - or rather, was - an innocent from the beautiful region of northern Wales - before she fell in love with Murat The Magnificent.
And Murat?
Sigh. Where do I begin?
He's a Sultan. Actually, he's first Sultan I've ever written. He's ruthless, hard and utterly magnificent and no woman can resist him - Catrin included.
Many women have brought pleasure into this autocratic royal's life, but no woman has ever managed to tame him...
Like the sound of him?
This southern city provided some amazing memories: fried cheesecake, the biggest aquarium in the world, unbelievably friendly people and some magnificent storms.
Oh, and the discovery that the legendary Margaret Mitchell also wrote about Sheiks - so I feel I'm in very exalted company!
Here's an article she did for The Atlanta Journal (which still exists today as ajc.com)
Don't you just love the illustrations?
Today I'm back at work, creating the story of Catrin and Murat.
Catrin is - or rather, was - an innocent from the beautiful region of northern Wales - before she fell in love with Murat The Magnificent.
And Murat?
Sigh. Where do I begin?
He's a Sultan. Actually, he's first Sultan I've ever written. He's ruthless, hard and utterly magnificent and no woman can resist him - Catrin included.
Many women have brought pleasure into this autocratic royal's life, but no woman has ever managed to tame him...
Like the sound of him?
July 22, 2013
SWEET TEA AND CREPE MYRTLE
Just back from Atlanta - a totally rocking city of futuristic skyscrapers, whose streets are lined with beautiful flowering trees called Crepe Myrtles.
Their latin name is Lagerstoemia (which sounds like a small, fictional country) and they bring the place alive with colours of rose, cream, peach and purple. I loved them.
The city has the most amazing houses in the mid-town area.
Like this one:
Doesn't that look peaceful? Who wouldn't like to be sitting out on the veranda, drinking sweet tea?
Their latin name is Lagerstoemia (which sounds like a small, fictional country) and they bring the place alive with colours of rose, cream, peach and purple. I loved them.
The city has the most amazing houses in the mid-town area.
Like this one:
Doesn't that look peaceful? Who wouldn't like to be sitting out on the veranda, drinking sweet tea?
