Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 23

I am petit Roo

                Dearest you,

From my desk to you, my second cerebral palsy story. I think this is Roo’s 3rd book for the year.

I spent the day reading, oh my HOlly. How much do I have to read?
Like it’s actually torture, so much so I locked myself in my writing room then my husband walks in et says,

“You don’t  have to do this, you know that, go enjoy life.”

I honestly had this moment of thought, I cannot enjoy my life. Unless just send me to France, to live.

Forever. Provence. St Cap. With my Asistant. Like Sophie. Private jet?
Obviously I am gonna need Helene, Roe et I beg you no aunt Viv, she’s more ruthless than moi

Until then,

I have work to do. But gee thanks. Yah?
I am literally too busy to even answer my phone. Everyone’s wondering about me. Et truth is, guys I have had a life of grand luxury, a lot of time to do things like normal people, I have actually shopped so much I need a new house for my clothing

that was a tad much. Yah yah over privileged  blah blah. Whatevs. se déplaçant le long…

Hence, I spent all my hours in between mothering to read, et I beg please don’t try talking to me for  the next many months, let me just do my books et fall asleep in my tearoom drinking tea

Thats a real thing. A very real thing. Cannot help it.

So on with his hurrah…

 

inside this book:

I know, it’s so colorful Et roo, I think he loves me a tad more, because his Maman loves him tooo much’

My favorite page is this;

I think I look rather civil. For a writer, some of you on the best sellers list, i shall whisper this …

you like, really, terribly, sincerely, truthfully, youscare me.Gee. Golly. Heck.
But hey who am I to judge. I own 99,000 hats et I sip tea all day long whilst chasing rabbits. En loubottoms.

Do wish me bonne chance as this next publication is aging me et you bet the most exhausting bloddy read of my existence:

Yes, I have changed the cover 3 times, names three times et read it over 100 times. I cannot explain this book. It’s complicated like my diet

your over worked privileged writer,

Rianna K Shaikh

ps. Bonsoir

Because you can have manners, dearest

 

Dearest you, I often thought that bravery was a club I’d never be a part of. Surely gathering things is very different from living in moments et then capturing them for life.

 

I am not an adventurer.

i am a safe traveler, especially after my children were birth.  But I dare to say being a writer is the biggest pleasure of my life. Might I say to you, this my Portfolio is my hobby. I mean it. That’s why I haven’t sold my art. Just yet.

The thing is I find it to be the greatest release in my life, nothing will compare to it, et nothing will compare to the joie it gives me to pass by my writing room et look at my stack of accomplishments, my books. No amount of money, fortune, wealth, titles will ever be able to sit close to the Idea of loosing oneself completely in a story.

Especially one that doesn’t belong to you.

It’s equivalent to living many lives in one heart. That’s the beauty of being free to do whatever you like.

It’s a luxury to be free with papier et a pen et it’s also equally broken with a side of thrill to write from the heart, le coeur. I often get from people …

“that I am very pompous, i am so privileged, I think I am soooooooo genious, oh do you really want us to think you write all those books by yoursef, you write for the rich!”

Here’s the thing, I spend my time not jaunting the world taking photographs, rather writing emotions et getting lost in the heart et mind.

one word,

insanity,dearest there isn’t a bliss in this.

So if you think anyone would journey beside me to actually put all I feel into paper as I speak of, one word,

Impossible.Second to that, it’s no pleasure to be constant in a story daily, nightly, hourly, secondly, it’s an actually messed up thing, Emotion.“Because I couldn’t write pure shit to be paid.”Pardon the French.
Money does not Speak to me, people do.
Et besides, all the bestsellers put me to sleep. Maybe one didn’t, 50 shades of grey.

Grey is no longer a color, but a volume of things. Well done.

Hence,
I am a woman not a checkbook.
I am human, not a robot.
And I am so secure in my freaking work, it’s now a sin.Most important, Rianna Shaikh cannot be bought. Because, I have bought everything I ever wanted, now I work  for free. I write stories that no one wants to sell. I don’t care, at all. Thank you to my son, my darling, my heartbeat, my world, my breath, for teaching me the reality of humanity.I hope the clarity you seek is clear, but may you know that someone once said to me,“it’s not what you say, it’s the manner in how you say it.”

Unfortunately my darlings, money doesn’t buy manners but it could buy you,

an etiquette coach.

Mannerisms is the most important, so make yourself familiar with such, before you seek a literary agent.

Rejection  is the best thing that’s happened to me. Thank you to the writers house for that.

your writer,

Rianna Shaikh

ps. Doors are closed for a reason.

 

 

When night falls

Dearest rabbits, foxes, people, all, 

It’s been a few days, I fear I breathe to exist alone at times, I am busy. Et I actually force myself to do work. But then I end up looking at tele for hours. That’s all the adventure one needs, non?

Well I am sitting still, literally thinking I need to meditate, but then I have 2 hours of reading. I need to do so….

my latest page, golly 300 more to go. But I pause as my husband stops en to small talk, I scream

Bonsoir.
He laughs, because it means i am, well

busy, I cannot be distracted. After all I waited many years to complete this book. But then, can you guess, can you?

Gosh, I changed the name, because the more I read, the more I see, the more I feel, the more I sense, that this book it screams

Au revoir.

So, I kick myself silly, et read aloud, searching myself et my sensibilities for the answer. Et oui, I received 100 emails that I cannot check,

not yet.

So look at that, the problem With nothing. I cannot fathom that I have written this book. It’s daintily written of pain et hurt et angst et pain et disappointments et parental conflicts of a 12 year old, who becomes without a home.
This is her journal,

louise Amélie Kate Buron.

I was on the treadmill today for 90 minutes, thinking about the name over, et oui this book is darn sad. But are there

Roses without thorns?

I doubt, I mean I’m not exactly a gardener. I beg to never become one, I get very angry at my children if they ever walk on the greens, so unmannerly that is non?
Hence, I hope you are well et yes I’m still writing et yes I’m already screaming, and yes, I am officially locked away from the world. Glad I had days of jaunting around town.

Now I must work, there’s nothing but storms on the out, imagine that Newport, and I swear everytime I am out, I’m driving into a storm. I suppose God wants me in too.

Oh I wish you bonsoir,

RS

Ps. Don’t you feel like nothing too my darlings, that’s an awful way to live, trust me.

J’adore you.

 

Zur et Sophie

      Dearest, 

From the diary notes of Sophie Becks.

I am Rianna Shaikh

 

  Dearest,Today I was out in the world et lightning struck, the rains fell, the skies cried et I swear I stood outside a restaurant on its Tuscan bench, looking at a tree wondering if it were real.
Milly accompanies me like she were my little Kevin Costner, from the bodyguard.
Truth is if I were to have a bodyguard, I hope it would be like him, because the man rarely missed an arrow.

Ironically in my book, there are many bodyguards with Zur. I cannot say he was not of importance in life to her as to me.
So, it rained, I walked in the rains with my loubottoms et I was soaked. It made me feel like,

in order to be a writer all you have to do is feel. I did do. I did.I have never in my life seen storms so closely. I was aggravated really because I left my home 35 minutes before they closed the doors to a very important place. I thought today was the day I did major damage.Because I am Rianna Shaikh, I live once, I’d do whatever I want, I’ll be whatever I am et I Vow to let no one tell me anything different.

Also, also I’m writing an x rated novel now world, deal with it, will yah.The worse part is I have more people in this world that loathes me. Et I should be in a corner crying really, don’t laugh.

I have more fans than readers, I have more people reading my pages than my books, I have more followers than supporters. I tell myself worry not they are all

fans.

I know that this privacy i so like is almost down the drain. I guarantee you, all of you one thing, my critics will soon understand who I am. As will the world, who thought me to be a careless nothing.

As a writer, a woman, a mother, me.

And I vow by my next public production, I won’t hide from my reality. Oui, comprende?

Well I’m in almost print for orphan 1. Minor setback.

Your writer,

Rianna k Shaikh

 

What does it feel like?

    Dearest world,  I have been reviewing a lot of letters from my readers, et I have been lost in my response. Because there can only be so much one can feel et answer without loosing her privacy.

But altogether I shall try….

For the longest time I have truthfully been lost. As you see I am slowly in print for 25 private publications which as stubborn as I am, I will remain loyal to my art. Meaning, I don’t want to waste any agents time, I only want what I want.

Secondly as a novelist I am a rookie, a bloddy rookie when it comes to writing novels, I fear I ran so far from my third novel that I no longer can.

I may be a web page to a lot of you, but to many I am still a writer. I have now invested myself so much into my work that I literally must  complete my biggest project even with 5 books to print back to back.
Till December. 2021.
This is madness. But that’s what I’m in.

I Don’t give a damn if I don’t see the light of day for the next 5 months, I have to do this.  Not just for my loyal readers but for me. This love story has to be complete. So to all of you Zur et Sophie fans, et also Mr Chance, mr Wall Street hot shot fans, I am going to invest the rest of my yearly time for this.

Editorial back on, which means, absolutely so, I will be away from the world, for a great period. Because I respect the art of my emotional perfection. Now as a children’s writer it’s easier, but as a novelist, it’s much harder. wish me bonne chance?

Et soon I hope to complete a story that has been in limbo for so many years. You are never ready world, sometimes you need to know that there isn’t a perfect time for ready.

merci for your letters et inspiration,

RS

Confessions at tea

        Dearest you, 

Eight hours of reading this am, ugh my brain. It cannot. My attention span is craving a grande piece of

cake! 

I don’t eat flour, but it’s craving cake, imagine that.

I feel proud. And tired. Like rubbish. Like I ran a marathon. I need a nap. A 8 hour nap. If I fall asleep again in my writing room they will call me senior

Its like my new thing, I swear I’m working then I end up asleep or watching tick tock, or sending a million videos to everyone, which  I am so getting blocked, my little confession.

Like  to much productivity Is Terrible non?

They say too much work can make Jack a dull boy,
did anyone even care about Jill?

I think Jill said, to hell with this Merde I’m stealing my husbands Amex. Actually that’s my feeling. But the show must go on,

shall it? 
My best advice to you is, don’t write a kids story 400 pages long.Every month.
Of the year.I need to get into the Guinness world book of records. But I am sure if I ever did, they would say I paid someone, oh well I tried.

Carry on et whatever you do, don’t fall asleep c’est moi. In the middle of the day . Especially while eating dark chocolate et siping tea.
A very good way to ruin your reputation. 

Laters,

RS

ps. I don’t think Jill had a husband…

Your heart in

 

        Dearest you,

I start the day with a low temper. Not ever so often but I do, I shut my doors closed,

Locked.

I sit calmly in my velvet settee looking at the birds, the trees, listening to the still of nothing. Then I literally use my tele et I turn my music system on, et I do give everyone a headache.

i kind of enjoy that but don’t tell them.I think it must clearly be a lot living with a thinker but today I sit down et I exhale, because I cannot think, I don’t think that it’s wise lately.
I laugh.
I cannot understand the use of words abbreviated, like lol, fomo, yolo, I kind of like that one, Milly says it’s, you only live once.

Which is why I work soo hard with my productions. No one has to understand it really, it’s me et my stack of books. Hence, I am about to spend 6 hours reading.

“oh god, Why?”

I honestly feel that way. But I suppose looking  at my desk et the ridiculous amount of work that went into this stack is mind blowing et nauseating, equally.

That has been my productions since, January 2021.

I hope you understand, that nothing ever comes easy.

Though some of us make it look easy.

Off to my hot cup of tea et a stack of chocolats et the music of Enya. This is what Sunday looks like.

I hope you are out there living your life, so I can sit here, writing someone’s life.  
Forever your writer,

RS

 

Ps.Highly requested Music checklist:

1. orinoco flow, by enya

2. train wreck James Arthur, he’s a beautiful mess

3. Cello suite #1 in G Sebastián Bach4. Slimane, nous deux acoustic

“Même si c’est mort, même si t’as peur
Même si j’ai tort, si ce n’est qu’un leurre
Que dans le décor tout est cassé.”

 

5. 2cellos with or without you
(Favorite cellist)
• (Will do playlist in time)!
                      Merci beaucoup

The Blanc rabbit 1

my dearest you,

I think that I forgot to share one of my many publications of this daring year,

the Blanc rabbit.

Look at that, real words!

And real pages, I wonder what does that mean, do you think I can actually write  Alrighty then you get the sarcasm, but this book, It’s a world in its own. Didn’t I tell you I mean business?
I do. What kind however is the question!

Hence, I’m up cleaning  my desk, because that’s what you do at midnight. Especially when you are retired, non?

I shan’t bore you, for some odd reason I have nothing else to say. Well shall I bid you bonsoir, I shall.

bonsoir ,

RS

Ps,  welcome to my desk et to my writing room number deux. I know, so many rooms to write in et not a bloddy story . Being a writer means endless means of seclusion. I need a forest next!

            I j’adore you Blanc rabbit!I will make you fame mousses 🤨

Maman tell me a story…

dearest you,

 

“I’ll tell you one or two 0r 3 or 4. But tell me darling Roo, do you want more?”

He sat with his eyes full of glee but I wonder dearest  world if he could walk, oh

would he?

Et if he could talk

Oh,

would he?

I bet he would, why he’d scold the world if he could, because his Maman has an

incredible act of intolerance for foxes that allow her no privacy. Oh silly you can’t you see, I’m just like you, just like me, but darling world, I’m oh soo, terriblyBusy.Like doing things, like listening to the birds flap its wings, as the owl sings, et the fox who properly runs into spring, et the dogs, why they chase all my rabbits away,Oh I fret et I scream,

 

“ooooo Alice could you sparemad hatter today?” 

But there she goes scurrying away, down the maze oh I stand in gaze.
How I fear to say,

wake up world, it’s another hop of a day.Now won’t you scurry away?                    —So, I’m En the jardin staring at cake today!

your writer,

RS

Ps. An early  Cerebral palsy tale, et oui that’s from my book, roo et I et our friends, les lapins, yes rabbits, et those fellows utterly invading our story. Again, but hey

we sooooo fame mousse 

(in a kid voice)!