Anita Dawes's Blog: http://jenanita01.wordpress.com, page 10

#WordlessWednesday

Reversible poem takes web by storm…

 This poem was penned by a teenage boy a few years ago, and when it is read from start to finish, it paints a pessimistic picture about a world where a generation is obsessed with money and power.But by following the instruction at the end – “read from bottom to top now” – the meaning – like the poem – is reversed.The flipped poem paints an optimistic picture about hope for the future and paints a very poignant message – even more poignant because of the author’s age.After gaining attention for his younger brother’s poem, Derek Nichols said the poem took Jordan just half an hour to compose and said: “I don't get how he's so smart”.“His poem is nowhere near making this world a better place, but it's a step in the right direction,” he added.Here is the poem when read from top to bottom.Our generation will be known for nothing.
Never will anybody say,
We were the peak of mankind.
That is wrong, the truth is
Our generation was a failure.
Thinking that
We actually succeeded
Is a waste. And we know
Living only for money and power
Is the way to go.
Being loving, respectful, and kind
Is a dumb thing to do.
Forgetting about that time,
Will not be easy, but we will try.
Changing our world for the better
Is something we never did.
Giving up
Was how we handled our problems.
Working hard
Was a joke.
We knew that
People thought we couldn’t come back
That might be true,
Unless we turn things around
(Read from bottom to top now)And here it is reversed – with a completely different meaning.Unless we turn things around
That might be true,
People thought we couldn’t come back
We knew that
Was a joke.
Working hard
Was how we handled our problems.
Giving up
Is something we never did.
Changing our world for the better
Will not be easy, but we will try.
Forgetting about that time,
Is a dumb thing to do.
Being loving, respectful, and kind
Is the way to go.
Living only for money and power
Is a waste. And we know
We actually succeeded
Thinking that
Our generation was a failure.
That is wrong, the truth is
We were the peak of mankind.
Never will anybody say,
Our generation will be known for nothing.                         ~~~There may be hope for the next generation, after all…See you all next week…

The Ten-Minute Rule…

I have been blogging now for almost two years, and the amount of data I have had to learn simply astounds me.
In the beginning, I was incredible stubborn, still can be should the need arise. However, just lately, probably due to old age and some minor health issues, I have discovered that there is an end to my patience. This came as one hell of a shock, for I assumed my patience was infinite. It always had been, so why not now?
The last few months have been difficult, and this is me still downplaying the enormity of it. Discovering I had cancer was like being hit by a truck, one that kept coming back to do it all over again.
But it has gone now, and I am still having troubling believing how incredibly lucky I was. I thought life would just resume, and it has, sort of. I really don’t feel any different, no lasting ill effects. The small aches from the radiotherapy are fading, so where has all my get up and go gone?
It is still down to me to run the blogs and promote our books, as Anita and computers do not and will never get on. She helps with the posts and general ideas, and brainstorming is her speciality. She can take ‘what if’ to an entirely different level, and even though she tries to understand the finer points of marketing and promotion, I am basically on my own.
I know how to do most of it, so not exactly up a creek without the proverbial paddle, but there are still a few things on my to do list.
This is where The Ten Minute Rule comes in.
I have decided that in the future, when presented with something I want to learn, I will try to grasp the principles for about ten minutes. If I fail, I will walk away and forget about it. (That’s the hard part!)  I may relent and try again on another occasion, but the same rule applies.
For I have decided that with the best will in the world, there are some things I will never be able to do, even if I bash my head against the wall for ever. The frustration of these things removes me from the joy of writing, something that remains so important to me.
Something had to give… and it wasn’t going to be me!

#WordlessWednesday...

Don't ask?

An excerpt from Simple...

Simple is a nightmare story about the world of the abused. Of family bullying, and the violent and upsetting abuse of a mentally challenged man.
Ethan, or Simple as he is called, is a huge bear of a man, with the heart and mind of an innocent child. Leanne, his young half- sister, is the only person who tries to take care of him.
Set in the beautiful backwoods of West Virginia, far from civilisation, will they be able to escape from their vicious and uncaring family?
This story has it all. Love and caring, taking on fear and brutality. The terror of nearly being burned alive, of being hounded like animals.
And the overpowering triumph of love, defeating the evil of hatred.
Excerpt from Simple…
I walked for hours, and just when I thought I would never find them, I smelled wood burning and there was a hint of voices carried on the wind.  Why had no one grabbed me?  Jack would never have let an outsider close enough to smell our fires burning.  Closer, I could hear a fiddle being played and someone singing a song, not something I heard too often at Gran’s.
They let me walk right into their camp.  It had been built among the trees and the land hadn’t been cleared much at all.  The cabins were much the same as ours, made with logs cut from the forest. Only thing different was the moss growing on the outsides where not much light could reach. The cabins looked green, almost as though they were still growing.  It felt a lot colder up here, even though I knew the sun was still up. It should be setting soon, and Simple would be lying where I had left him, in the dark.
The sound of the fiddle stopped and a woman about Gran’s age stood up.  My feet suddenly felt about three sizes too big.  I stumbled, and then came to a standstill, unable to move.  What was I thinking of, coming here?  Going to town would have been better, would have changed my life, Simple’s too. Possibly for the better.
The woman spoke, her voice deep yet softer than Gran’s.‘What ye be wantin’ so far from home, young’un?’
I must have looked half beaten.  My dress was torn and bloody, filthy arms and legs, scratched and bleeding.  I hoped they didn’t think I was one of the crazy stories come to life. My thoughts finally slipped into my mouth and my words sounded like the damp dirt I stood upon.  The woman picked up a cup of water from the table, stepped forward and offered it to me.  She said, ‘They call me Belle Spiers hereabouts.’
The cool water tasted good.  Then all my words came out in a rush.  ‘I need help. Simple’s hurt, please you have to help me.’‘Slow down girl, your words are runnin’ together like my boys heads when I need to put them in their place.’I took another mouthful of water. ‘It’s Simple, his leg’s broke.  Uncle Jimmy left him back there in the caves.’
She interrupted me and called out for someone called Jimmy.  I felt my heart freeze, turn to ice, expecting Uncle Jimmy to appear.  The frozen waste where my heart sat, slowly melted when the older Man who had been playing the fiddle limped to her side, along with another Man who looked nothing like Uncle Jimmy.‘Go see what this young’un has got herself into.’
Suddenly I had the strangest feeling she knew right off who I was and where I came from.  Even the name Simple didn’t move her none.  A few other faces came to see what all the fuss was about.  One of them was a boy called Zach with yellow hair like the sun, older than me but not by much. The one called Jimmy told him to come with them.‘Gonna need more than old pa here to bring a log like Simple back up from the caves.’
It took a while, but his words sunk deep like the roots of a tree sucking at my brain.  He knew Simple!
Simple is just 99p on Amazon right now, and we would love you to read it and tell us what you thought of it!    
Universal Amazon Link   myBook.to/SimpleS

A Good Book...

Rain Fall  by Nicolas Jollty

"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song." Maya Angelou.
As much as I love a good book, I also love many other beautiful things. Like the picture above for instance, I think it is stunning. I wish I could create pictures like that. I do try, with my little camera and I quite like some of the images that come forth. I have dabbled with a paintbrush too but know I'm not very good. Which brings me neatly to my new project. ( Writing!)
 I am becoming a writer, inspired by all the books I have read and all of Anita's work that I have helped to publish. Whether I am any good remains to be seen, but I am determined to give it my best shot. After all, I think I am a good editor/proofer, and I always got good marks for English, so what do I have to lose?

Anita started writing when her life was at a low ebb. Losing herself in creating fictional plots and characters turned out to be very therapeutic- not to mention relaxing and soothing, the list of advantages seemed to go on and on. Also, knowing you are in control of this brave new world and control everything that happens must be a very special feeling.
Anita tells me that sometimes the characters take over and tell her what they want to do. That must be truly amazing!

As Anita's editor, the process worked for me too. It was bliss to immerse myself in this newly discovered world.
Mostly tired (or sick) of the way the ordinary world is, what better than to create a world where literally everything can be the way you want it? A chance to show the world that life doesn't have to be like that. A chance to experience what your heart desires, if only for a while.
But do it well enough and it will be remembered.

I can see a small similarity with what Anita does and my bonsai hobby. Some of them I have grown from seed and tended and cared for, trained, encouraged and celebrated as beautiful things. Some people laugh at my 'little sticks' but I can see the end result. Hopefully my efforts with the pencil will be just as rewarding for me...
© jaye marie

A boy called Rabbit…

“Evil’s comin’, boy…comin’ fast. Look for the man with eyes like winter skies, and hair like a crow’s wing. He’s the one you gotta find.”

The remote mountain wilderness of North Carolina swallowed up the ten-year-old boy as he made his way down from the primitive camp where his grandparents had kept him hidden all his life. His dying grandmother, gifted with The Sight, set him on a quest to find the Good People, and though he is filled with fear and wary of civilization, Rabbit is determined to keep his promise to her. When he crosses paths with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, neither their lives, nor his, are ever the same again.

The extraordinary little boy called Rabbit has the power to change the world for everyone he meets, but can he save himself from the one person his grandparents had hoped would never find him? His dangerous and bittersweet journey will touch you in unexpected ways, and once you've let Rabbit into your heart, you'll never forget him.
About the AuthorMarcia Meara is a native Floridian, living in the Orlando area with her husband of 29 years, two silly little dachshunds and four big, lazy cats. She's fond of reading, gardening, hiking, canoeing, painting, and writing, not necessarily in that order. But her favorite thing in the world is spending time with her two grandchildren, ten-year-old Tabitha Faye, and twenty-month-old Kaelen Lake. At age 69, Marcia wrote "Wake-Robin Ridge," her first novel, and "Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love." Her second novel, "Swamp Ghosts," set alongside the wild and scenic rivers of central Florida, was released in spring of 2014. "A Boy Named Rabbit," the sequel to "Wake-Robin Ridge," will be available on Kindle by January 26, 2015. And "Hunter," the sequel to "Swamp Ghosts," is scheduled for release in late summer, 2015. In the past year, Marcia has also had her poetry appear in four Silver Birch Press anthologies: "Silver," "Green," and "Summer," all Eclectic Anthologies of Poetry and Prose, and "Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology," which features a unique form of creating poems from prose. Her philosophy? It's never too late to follow your dream. Just take that first step, and never look back.
Our 4*Review
I fell a little in love with this book the minute I read the title and description. It wasn’t until later, I realised it was book two of a series, but I was already committed to reading about this lost and lonely boy, searching for another, better life after his last relative dies in the mountains.
But Rabbit isn’t a miserable little waif, he has a mission. He must find the one man who can help him, described by his Gran as ‘a man with eyes like the winter skies and hair like a crow’s wing’.
I adored the authors enchanting writing style, concise yet emotional. Rabbit’s story is sure to capture your heart as it did mine.
Rabbit is a very special boy, magically endearing. He cares so much about what living really means, gradually bringing this realisation to the people he meets. I have a special affinity to the Appalachian way of life, and loved the way Rabbit speaks, his emotions and understanding.
“A Boy Called Rabbit” is a beautifully crafted story. One of those stories that play havoc with your emotions.
One small annoyance that stopped this being a 5 star review was the odd chronology of the chapter headings. At first I couldn’t figure it out and found it confusing, but after a while I was enjoying the story so much, I hardly took any notice.

Reflections…

Last week there was a welcome chink in the awful weather we have been having. The sun made a stunning comeback and actually came out!A quick inspection of my bonsai revealed the emergence of tiny green buds and the sweetest of cherry blossom on one of them. This inspired me to do a bit of gardening for I am always surprised at this time of year at how much suddenly needs to be done. How can this be, I think, Mother Nature has been asleep for months and the minute she starts to wake up, everything needs tidying up?

Anyway, for a day or two I enjoyed myself. No writing was done; it was like having a mini holiday, sneaked when no one was looking. Sadly, it didn't last long. Soon the rain returned and brought cold cruel winds with it, so it was time to return to the keyboard, which welcomed me back like an old friend.
Mother's Day came and went, a day I'm not too fond of as I haven't been one for a long time now. I need no reminders of that time either, really I don't. But Anita is still very much a mother, surrounded by her offspring, so it is a ritual we solemnly observe, marked by a family get together and dinner for which I had planned a glorious roast, like always. Only to have a plaintive request from youngest grand- daughter, 'Could we possibly have a meat pie?'Well, I don't mind what I cook, and everyone else liked the idea, so it was humble meat pie for Mother's Day dinner.
Not much progress to report on the next book in the series, though I seem to have been doing a lot of work on it. It suddenly occurred to me that at least two of my characters were a bit one-dimensional and could do with more back-story. This involved an awful lot of backtracking, so thank God for the Windows ability to 'find' things, making names, sequences and dates so much easier to find.
Just when I was deep in the swing of things, the printer ran out of black ink, and guess what, every other colour in the box but not one black. Why had I not noticed that before? So no more printing until supplies arrive.

Against my better judgement, I have begun a sort of countdown to my birthday this year. Never thought I would make it this far and it seems significant, probably because fate has been busy conspiring of late to thwart my plan to grow old disgracefully, what with my recent cancer ordeal.
72 years I have been on this planet, years full of all those people and things I have loved and hated, endured and enjoyed, lost and found. Most of them all gone now and barely remembered.
Perhaps that's what is supposed to happen as you get older, things fade away or get forgotten. Can’t help the forgetting though, and before you get the wrong idea, my head is turning into a sieve.

My Tipping Point...

I have been doing a lot of thinking this week (as opposed to what, you might be thinking)  but I really need to be a little more organised before my brain finally reaches its tipping point.  Since we began this journey into the weird and wonderful world of electronic publishing, I have almost drowned in a sea of information, much of it incomprehensible I'm afraid.  On top of that, I find I am guilty of diving in, making copious notes and then forgetting about them. I have piles of helpful hints and ‘to do’ lists, but I’m not following up.This has to change, and soon.                                                     

I have tried my utmost to assimilate what I thought (and was told) was necessary to be successful in this new digital publishing world.  You know what I mean... you have to have an amazing blog to attract what they call 'content marketing'. You must be on Facebook, Twitter ... the list goes on and on.

Well, I have tried to do most of those things, but it doesn't help to discover you might be using the wrong website provider... and that Facebook keeps changing the rules (which I didn't understand the first time) and there was always that other sneaking doubt, you know, the 'I might not be good enough anyway' one.  Which, let’s face it, is probably the real reason this website doesn't attract many visitors, and our books are not flying off the shelves.
 


So I was gazing out of my window to where my bonsai collection live on their shelves, hoping for some divine inspiration when I noticed something odd. I just had to go and have a look, for my eyesight is not what it was and I sometimes see things that are not there. But not this time. It was real and I had to take a photograph to prove it.  On the shelf, nestled between a pine tree and a Ginko, I had placed a huge pinecone that we found in a forest. It must be about six inches long and it really does tell you about the weather. It closes up tight when it rains and opens wide when the sun comes out.

But what was special that day (as you can see in the photo above) was the fact that tiny mushrooms had sprouted from inside it. Don't ask me how... it just has. I think it is magical, and it got me to thinking differently about many things.

Maybe I was trying too hard on all the wrong stuff.
Because one of the things that has started to annoy me big time, was the fact that what with all this networking, blogging and searching, there seemed to be precious little time left for what is really important...writing. And as hard as I tried, I couldn't squeeze everything in. It was simply impossible.

Don't forget, I am still knew to the writing side of this business and I know there is much to learn about the craft. But I won't learn it properly if there is no time left to do it, will I?

So I have made a monumental decision. I will keep this blog going because I really do enjoy doing it, but I will stop worrying about it. But I am afraid the rest of it will have to take a back seat for now because I have another book to finish (and I am enjoying that too!)

I have it on good authority, that what you really need to be successful, is to produce brilliant books, so that is what we are going to do, and if along the way I can manage to reduce my pile of lists, so much the better...

#Wordless Wednesday...