Anita Dawes's Blog: http://jenanita01.wordpress.com, page 28

To sleep, perchance to dream...

The magic of autumn...
 Despite the warm weather we have been having lately, the early signs of Autumn are sneaking up on us. Little by little, my Bonsai are getting ready for their winter sleep and their leaves are gradually beginning to change colour as they start to close down. Imperceptibly at first, then some of them will turn a fiery red.
A wonderful sight, but a little sad at the same time, and I always miss seeing them in leaf.

It reminds me more poignantly that I am approaching my own Autumn (and hopefully I won't turn scarlet!) emphasised mainly by the fact that I am not at my best this week. Doc says its a kidney infection and I feel wretched to put it mildly! But this too will pass. (Anita's favourite quotation!)

I have been doing a lot of gazing out of my window this week (as I don't feel like doing much else) and just love the way Mother Nature goes about her business, come hell or high water. Maybe we could all learn from her example, especially me. But I'm afraid it is all too easy for me to find excuses for not doing what I ought. I find myself constantly using my age as the perfect excuse, and I really must stop doing that, it's pathetic and doesn't match how I have lived my life up until now.
The only thing I have always known for sure, is that you can do anything, provided you want to enough. So if you are breathing, get on with it!



a season of mists and fruitfulness...

It is easy to think of Autumn as the end of life as we know it, when in fact it is just part of the sequence. A resting, a time to reflect on how much better and brighter next Spring will be. And we need that slowing down, as working flat out all the time is unsustainable. We need to look back at the past year and really see what worked and what didn't.

You know, all those things you thought were important at the time, but turned out not to be. I have learnt such a lot this year, but the fact that I am still making colossal mistakes only proves to me that there is so much more to do.



 It would be easy to mimic the seasons, shut down and hibernate until Spring arrives; and I must admit that sounds incredibly tempting...

But we have a books to finish, Anita's busily scribbling away, so lots of editing there. I also have a pile of how-to notes to wade through. Some to digest, others to discard; time to clear the decks and really get organised, ready for a new year with all those lovely new possibilities...

And a big thank you to all those of you who have helped us this year, you know who you are...

See you all next week!

The Biggest Wake-up call...

The Norfolk Broads

 We are all on a journey, whether we like it or not, so we had better learn to like it.

Even love it.

But a lot of people never do. They think it's their life's work to hate and detest every single minute of it, ruining all the possible good stuff in the process. I suddenly realised that I was fast becoming one of them, the signs were all there. Increased depression, lack of committed concentration and the most important one, the inability to relax and enjoy what I did have.
I really had to do something about it this time.

How can you get to be seventy years old before you have such an epiphany?

I have been reading (and thoroughly enjoying) Valerie Poore's book 'Watery Ways' about her life on a dutch barge, and it made me stop and think about everything I used to love about living.
Despite how hard my life sometimes was, there were some of those simple moments mixed in there. You know the ones, where you feel 'right'.

It seems a long time since I felt like that, even for a second. But I came close this morning.

I always read for a while in the mornings these days, (gives my old brain a chance to get going - before I insist that the body follows suit. (and it's not getting any easier!)
For a blissful hour I was walking with Val in Rotterdam as she looked for a suitable barge to make her home and it was wonderful. I love water of any kind, rivers, canals and the sea, and I always wanted to live on a house boat. The closest I ever came was a holiday on the Norfolk Broads. (see above)

Two glorious weeks with the family on a large uncooperative boat, that never seemed to want to go where you did, but I loved every minute.


I have discovered that when most of us look back at our lives, you only remember the good stuff in small bits and pieces. That's what brought on my epiphany this morning.

I suddenly realised that I was guilty of trying much too hard, figuring that 'more effort - better results. But trying to force something to happen just will not work, not even with the best will in the world. (and mine is getting pretty worn out)

So, and I have said most of this before I know, I will stop frantically searching and studying for that one magic ingredient that will bring some measure of success  - and more importantly, I will stop worrying about it.

I vow to concentrate on what I know I can do (and enjoy), reading, writing and walking. And if I can get on a boat now and then, that would be my idea of heaven...

Best wishes and see you next week...

The Norfolk Broads We are all on a journey, whether ...

The Norfolk Broads

 We are all on a journey, whether we like it or not, so we had better learn to like it.

Even love it.

But a lot of people never do. They think it's their life's work to hate and detest every single minute of it, ruining all the possible good stuff in the process. I suddenly realised that I was fast becoming one of them, the signs were all there. Increased depression, lack of committed concentration and the most important one, the inability to relax and enjoy what I did have.
I really had to do something about it this time.

How can you get to be seventy years old before you have such an epiphany?

I have been reading (and thoroughly enjoying) Valerie Poore's book 'Watery Ways' about her life on a dutch barge, and it made me stop and think about everything I used to love about living.
Despite how hard my life sometimes was, there were some of those simple moments mixed in there. You know the ones, where you feel 'right'.

It seems a long time since I felt like that, even for a second. But I came close this morning.

I always read for a while in the mornings these days, (gives my old brain a chance to get going - before I insist that the body follows suit. (and it's not getting any easier!)
For a blissful hour I was walking with Val in Rotterdam as she looked for a suitable barge to make her home and it was wonderful. I love water of any kind, rivers, canals and the sea, and I always wanted to live on a house boat. The closest I ever came was a holiday on the Norfolk Broads. (see above)

Two glorious weeks with the family on a large uncooperative boat, that never seemed to want to go where you did, but I loved every minute.

I have discovered that when most of us look back at our lives, you only remember the good stuff in small bits and pieces. That's what brought on my epiphany this morning.

I suddenly realised that I was guilty of trying much too hard, figuring that 'more effort - better results. But trying to force something to happen just will not work, not even with the best will in the world. (and mine is getting pretty worn out)

So, and I have said most of this before I know, I will stop frantically searching and studying for that one magic ingredient that will bring some measure of success  - and more importantly, I will stop worrying about it.

I vow to concentrate on what I know I can do, reading, writing and walking. And if I can get on a boat now and then, that would be my idea of heaven...

Best wishes and see you next week...

A Guest Post with February Grace...

 This week we have our very first guest post by February Grace (Bru to her friends!)

Jera's Jamboree recently recommended her book, 'Godspeed'. When I checked it out I discovered that not only was it brilliantly written, but brilliantly written by a lovely inspirational woman.
When we read all about Bru and her life and struggles, all encompassed by her indomitable spirit, Anita suggested that we asked her to visit our blog to spread some of her inner strength and inspiration to our followers. You could have knocked me down with a very small feather when she said yes!
February Grace



Cheering Each Other On
by February Grace
There is no question about it: there is a lot that new writers can learn from hanging out with those who have been at it a while longer.
‘Hanging out’ might mean interacting with them on social media sites. It might mean watching how they handle querying (or don’t) how they travel the many paths to publication (or choose not to) or simply learning by reading what they’ve written. Just as in any field of endeavor, those who are newer at writing can definitely benefit by watching, listening to, and supporting writers who are further along in their journey.
What, however, about those who are already published and/or have been writing for years, if not most of their lives? Is there anything they can gain, or learn, by interacting with and supporting newer, less experienced writers?
My personal answer to those questions is a wholehearted yes!
I have been writing since childhood, but I didn’t seek formal publication of my work until just a few years back.
When I first started blogging, I was completely naïve about the publication process. I dove in and started doing research. Blog after blog, website after website. I read posts written by everyone from other writers in the same situation as I was, to agents, publishers and professional editors with decades of experience.
I read a lot of conflicting and confusing information and I’ll admit it was overwhelming at times. But I also read a lot of truly helpful things, and as I sifted through the sand I found nuggets of gold that I tucked away. Those pieces of information have helped me make decisions about the path I wanted to personally take toward publication, first as an indie then with a small but growing press.
The truth is no matter how long you’ve been writing, what level of education you have, whether you’ve been published once or a dozen times (no matter how you’ve done it) there is always going to be someone more experienced and knowledgeable than you are. I am truly grateful to those who put themselves and their stories out there every day on their blogs and websites— the good, the bad, and the ugly— and tell the truth of their experiences in life and in writing. In return I have tried to share what I have learned along the way whenever I am able, whether about life experiences or writing.


Every time I have interacted with a more experienced writer I have learned something. Each time I meet a ‘newer’ writer I come away feeling that I am the one who has gained the most. I am renewed by their excitement, their passion and their optimistic hopes for the future. I smile as they pass milestones along their journey, and I am happy to be there to see it, and to see them, in turn, become a more experienced voice to speak to someone else.
There is so much competition between people in any artistic field, but I try very hard not to view my path as being in competition with anyone at all. I personally feel that is a negative way to look at things, and it has never helped me do anything better. In truth I haven’t seen a negative spirit get a writer anywhere in the long run.
It is so much better to support each other, wherever we are on our writing journey, and celebrate with each other’s successes, genuinely and from the heart. What do we lose when something good happens to someone else? Absolutely nothing. We gain the joy of celebrating with them and then, most likely when our turn comes and we have news to share they will rejoice along with us. When we share the ups and the downs in a spirit of community, each of us becomes better for it.
Writing is a difficult and at times lonely pursuit. How much better it is if we have others who truly understand to cheer us along as we go, and how immeasurable the benefit to us when we are in the crowd cheering others on as well.
February Grace is a published writer, poet, and artist. Her debut novel GODSPEED was released by Booktrope in June of 2013 and her next novel, OF STARDUST, is slated for release later this fall. You can find her on Facebook www.facebook.com/februarygrace and on Twitter @FebruaryGrace. Her blog is found at www.februarywriter.blogspot.com

Thank you Bru, from the bottom of our hearts!

Paradise Lost and Found?

visions of hell?


 This week I have been read Andrew Pyper's new book, 'The Demonologist' and although it was the familiar story of man's struggle against evil, I found it fascinating.
Basically I think, because he quoted a lot from Milton's 'Paradise Lost' and I have been obsessed with that for most of my adult life. Reading it, I must admit is a bit of a stretch, seeing as it is a poem and antiquated to boot. But the premise is what drew me to it, as I have long been convinced that all this devil stuff is mostly propaganda.

It has to be, don't you think? After all, he was an angel. A very special angel if you ask me, for I don't suppose they give the title 'Bringer of Light' to just any old angel.

In 'Paradise Lost' Satan describes his exile from heaven and his regrets in such a way that you do end up feeling sorry for him. At least I did. I think that might be what gave me the inspiration for my (so far) unwritten book. Well, I have six chapters down on paper, so I'm getting there.

I have invented (I think) an entity that is supposed to advise and control us humans, mostly in devious and cruel ways. But as you read along you get to wonder if that is what he is really doing as it seems as if his primary mission is to torment us and make us lose our way. Possibly I will find out the truth of this as I continue writing.

Even now, in the early stages, I no longer feel as though I am in control. I know this is how its supposed to work, but because of the subject matter, it is more than a bit scary.

Maybe I will read a nicer, more genteel story next, or maybe not.

Hope this find everyone well, and I will see you next week...

Paper Paradise...

Stephen King - the master



I was a lonely child, and London was a lonely place to be when I was growing up there after the war. All around me, people were busily trying to put there lives and homes back into some kind of order.
I remember walking around the streets, confused by all the chaos that still had to be dealt with. All the piles of dusty bricks and rubble that was all that remained of so many people's lives.
This is probably what made me such a melancholic child and the reason I retreated into the world of books.
My favourite book was a copy of Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte and I would love to have that particular copy back in my possession. I remember it as being illustrated, full of hauntingly beautiful but tortured imagery that managed to scare the living daylights out of me (I was only eight years old)

I often wonder if my memory is at fault. Was this book really illustrated, or did the words simply conjure up what I thought I saw?
I do love a good book and I must have read thousands of them in my lifetime. Which brings me rather neatly to my favourite author of all time, Stephen King. (see above) He wrote everything from a crazy car to a tormented child and just about every scary subject in between. I have spent so much time in his company.
I heard yesterday that he has written a sequel to The Shining called Dr. Sleep, and I will be at the front of the queue when it comes out on Tuesday.

Which brings me to another of my favourite authors. You have met her here before, Anita Dawes and she is not yet getting the recognition I think she deserves, but I can see a similarity with King in everything she writes. Horrible things happen to her characters too, but you can't help but love them anyway.
What follows is an excerpt from Ruby, my all time favourite...

"Watching the truck coming towards us seemed to take forever, like Pa was going deliberately slow. We waited for Pa to get out of the truck and I could see from his dirt streaked face that it weren't good. Nathan's face looked worse.
Ma tried to stop me from running to the truck, but couldn't hold me. I climbed on the back and didn't see Nathan getting out. Suddenly he was there beside me. I remember kneeling and touching the blue check shirt that covered Josh's face. I remember the touch of Nathan's hand on mine and the gentle way he said, 'Don't look, Annie please. Just let Pa bury him.'
 But I had to see for myself, had to know if it was the tree falling on him that had killed him. My eyes were wet, but the tears wouldn't fall. I pulled the shirt back and a scream tore at my throat, trying to find a way out.
No sound came as I looked at what was left of his face, dark gaping holes looked back at me. Gone were his blue grey eyes, the very thing I had like most about him had been gouged away.
His face was torn and bloody. Dried blood matted his hair and dead leaves were sticking to him.
Nathan tried to take me away, saying I had seen enough. I felt myself being lifted slowly from my knees and as Nathan carried me away, that's when my mind registered what it had seen.
The torn flesh on his face hadn't been caused by the fall. The skin standing away from the bone and all the dried blood made it hard to read, that was why my mind didn't see it right off.
They had cut Pa's name down one side of his face, as if taking his eyes weren't enough.
The scream that wouldn't come before finally broke through and shut down my brain like an axe blow..."

See what I mean? See you next week...

Is there any more than this?

heaven on earth?I fell in love with this photograph at roughly the same time I finished reading Patrick Ness new book, 'More Than This' and between them, I got to thinking and it turned into an 'alfie' moment. (what's it all about?)

I have been told that that is a dangerous thing to do at my age, (thinking that is) It is possibly a dangerous thing to do at any age, if you think about it, for who knows where it may lead?

But I quite like thinking, and all the things that trigger it off. Like books and pictures for instance. What I could do with is some method of retaining said thoughts, as they usually evaporate like so much smoke, never to be seen again. I make notes on everything in a vain hope of remembering all the good stuff, and it works some of the time.

Then I am told 'what do you expect, at your age?'

But this is the difficult part. My mind does not feel old, even though it seems to have more holes in it that emmental cheese, and when I see or read something that stirs my imagination, I am back in my prime, having a sneaky feeling that this is not all there is for me.

Some of the time I must admit that I really don't want any more, I am too tired to even consider the possibility. But then there are the other days-- days when you forget just how old, and how stiff you are. That you have a job, just going to the shops and back.
Days when you choose to ignore the sands of time slipping through your fingers and find yourself considering the most amazing possibilities.

Of course, this may be what happens as you approach old age. I don't know, I have no experience or knowledge of it, not having done it before. But if you can think, you can dream. And if you can dream I believe you can do anything... at any age!

See you next week...

Finding inspiration in the strangest places!

Heather Jansch


 I was looking for some inspiration the other day, (my muse seems to have taken a few days off) and found one of my favourite people on the Internet. Or I should say, I saw a picture of what this woman does and instantly knew who it was. Heather Jansch, that's herself in the picture, with her beautiful friends Rara and Riverdance has been a source of inspiration for me for  a while now.  What she creates is truly awe-inspiring, and has the effect of pulling me up by my bootstraps every time!

Heather has twin passions. Drawing and horses. Mine are more like the sea, writing, bonsai and horses but I digress.

If I had a 'bucket list' (and I have thought about it, now I am getting older) horses would be on it somewhere. I would love to take care of, own and ride horses before I shuffle off, and maybe...

We should all have a wish list with every dream we have ever had on it. And now and again it would be nice if one or two came true, don't you think?

But at the same time it would be helpful if we had another list. One with all the things we have enjoyed, because most of the time we forget the good times and we really shouldn't. I have been in the doldrums this week, just a little bit it's true, and that was why I was looking for inspiration in the first place. Some times I will do almost anything but what I am supposed to be doing, and that is becoming a problem I must do something about.

Whatever mood I find myself in, dedication and steely determination must be my first port of call. And I just know that looking at what Heather creates will help me.

driftwood horse by Heather Jansch



 Truly inspiring, don't you think?

See you next week, and hopefully I might have substantial progress to report!

Magical pictures and heart rending books...

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just magical!


 
Saw this picture this morning and it really fascinated me. I know it's probably not real, there must be some jiggery pokey going on, but as I get older I kinda like the unreal, or at least, what seems to be, so I will keep on looking for new and amazing things...

Anyway, back to what I wanted to talk about today.
I have been thinking about one of Anita's books, Simple Says...  (see cover picture on the right)
it has long been my favourite and the picture at the top reminds me of the central character, a huge bear of a man called Simple. He loves to be in the forest and seems to be at home among all the towering trees, away from all the people who torment him because of his size, his slowness, and his stutter.

I thought I would print an excerpt to introduce you to him properly...

       Gran stormed across the clearing, bending to pick up a stick from the ground without breaking her stride.  Simple, sitting against the wood pile, was in for another of her beatings.  I yelled for him to run, but he didn’t hear me.  Lost in one of his daydreams I guessed.
          I watched in silence as Gran repeatedly swung the stick hard against the side of her son’s head.  There were no words to describe Simple’s pain, or the pain of watching.  He probably didn’t even know what it was for and I hated her for making me feel all the things he couldn’t say. He didn’t move or look her in the face, not until she let the stick drop from her bony fingers did he feel safe enough to close his eyes.  He slowly put his hands to his battered head, blood pushing its way through the gaps in his dirty fingers. I know I edited this book so you could say I am a bit biased, but I don't think so. I really love the story, even though it has savagely cruel elements, involving hatred and violence. But all of these elements are finely balanced with so much emotional determination and caring by Simple's sister, Leanne that you get torn every which way as you read it.This book is a roller coaster of a read but one that has been very hard to categorise. Mainstream publishers really couldn't figure out what to do with it. They loved it but... There always seems to be a but, doesn't there? Well, we always seem to find one. But if anybody wants to see if they would like to read Simple Says , it's on Amazon, and at the moment just 0.77p!Just click on the cover (on the right) and you go straight there. I would love to hear if you love it too...

Simple way to ease those horrible muscle cramps!

OWWW !!!


 Are you like me and suffer excruciating pain from cramp?

Then this post is for just you. I saw this picture and for some reason it reminded me of all those nights when I could not get to sleep, plagued by horrible muscle cramps!

Medical explanations are thick on the ground, everything from old age (this seems to be the favourite excuse for whatever ails me at the moment) to side effects from the Statins ( the medicine that apparently is keeping me alive since my heart attack two years ago).

There are also trivial excuses paraded for me to choose from, I sit too long at my desk, (don't know another way to write, sorry) to not enough exercise.

I do exercise as much as I'm able, but I have discovered that too much of it makes the cramps worse in the long run. I have also tried those little Magnesium Phosphate pills that you let dissolve under your tongue, and they did seem to work at first, but had to up the dose so much it was getting silly.

BUT THEN...

I read somewhere that Quinine was very good for cramps, but a dangerous thing to mess around with, especially at my age. I didn't care, I was getting pretty desperate. The cramps were getting so bad every time I moved, didn't matter what I was doing, and I was really fed up with being in knots all the time.
Then someone suggested tonic water. Apparently it has a small amount of quinine in it and was supposed to help get rid of the knots.
I checked with my doctor, and he just raised his eyebrows and said, 'Yes, that's good idea.'
Now if he knew all about it, why hadn't he mentioned it before?

AND THEN...

I found that Tesco had a bottle of tonic water with lemon, so I tried it...
I have a small glass of the stuff (it does taste horrible!) every morning, and I am pleased to announce...

IT WORKS!

It really does. Sometimes I still get very small twinges, but absolutely nothing like before. So if you suffer like I used to, PLEASE GIVE IT A TRY.

Not much works predictably on me, I am one of those stubborn people that drugs don't seem to work on. So I am delighted to be able to pass on this invaluable piece of information

There is so much that never seems to work, so I am thrilled to find something that does and just had to share it. Now all I need is to find something to make my brain work for longer than two seconds at a time, and I will have it made!

Best wishes!