Suzanne J. Wright's Blog, page 3

Turkey

In Fethiye market, which is full of English people, the predominant accent seems to be variations on London.  If you ever want to hear a Turkish market holder on the receiving end of the bartering process - this is the place.  Like the older lady at the honey stall, haggling, teasing flirting, calling the stallholder 'my darling', blowing him kisses; he's clearly enjoying every minute, and his wife, watching, is bemused. It's nothing to do with the price.  Everyone is laughing, and an audience collects before she knocks him down from 10 TL to 8 TL for a jar of honey.
A cockney couple buying drinks for their kids, 'Free, free for ten, not four each. Yeah, free.'
An ancient stringy man with fierce blue eyes is at the leather belt stall.
'It's fin. look, the levver it's fin. It's not werf firty, look it's fin.' His wife is sympathetic, and the stall holder is doing his best to ignore him.  He continues. 'Maybe firteen, but it's fin, the levver is fin, I ain't paying firty.'  
The stall holder is busy calling,  'Cheaper than shoplifting.'
Back at the villa, swallows are nesting in the eaves of the empty villa next door.  They're busy swooping soaring and returning to the nest every minute or so, because they have several chicks in there. They swoop low when it's hot, higher when it's cooler. It's now 6.0 pm, the muezzin has finished his song, at 5 pm. There is a strong breeze but it is very warm. The breeze carries sand, probably from the Sahara.  The swallows swoop low over the swimming pool, dipping for a drink in full flight.  A jay comes to sit on the fence, hoping for a tasty chick, and the entire population of swallows goes into a frenzy, sipping in and out of the porch like a squadron of Spitfires. The jay gives up and hops off - for now.
Monday 16th June 
A perfect day.  Picked up by dolmus and taken to Fethiye harbour. Beautiful new sailing boat, the Grand Barak. Seriously lovely ship. Only about 40 passengers, Checzs, Slovacs, Russians, Geordies, Yorkies, and us.
The plan is to sail round twelve islands, stopping four times for swimming, lunch, and a walk on the islands. 
Out into the bay the sails are unfolded, the engine cuts, and the motion of the boat changes from loud,  choppy and bumpy to smooth and fluid - and silent. 
We stop for a swim at Flat Island and the sea is so salty it must be impossible to sink.  You lie on your back, and your whole body just floats with no effort whatsoever.
The mountains fringing the bay are high, layer upon layer of blue. Breathtakingly beautiful.
On the way back the sails are put up and I lie on a mattress on the deck, the boat rocks like the cradle I never had, and I fall asleep.
Perfect.

Paperback heaven.

I am very pleased to say that my new novel will soon be available as a paperback.  I'm off to a warmer climate for a bit later this week, but when I get back, I just have to check the proof, and if it's okay, and I'm sure it will be, voila, it will be on Amazon in paperback. Thank you to Alan for his immense patience, fortitude, aptitude, and sheer kindness. If I ever get to be a famous author, it will be because he supported me, and thought it was worthwhile to put up with all the wailing, moaning and negativity associated with me and anything remotely technical.
Thank you Alan.
xxx

Talks and After Dinner Speaking

I am a retired English teacher and writer based in the west midlands with four ebooks on Amazon, and short stories in other publications.

My latest novel, Autumn Butterfly is now on Amazon, and a sample chapter can be downloaded to give you some idea of the content.  I have been on local radio in Sheffield, Redditch and Birmingham talking about my previous novels, and have given talks to Walsall Soroptomists, and Walsall Writers’ Circle.

My experience of writing is long-standing, and my ventures into electronic publishing are more recent and varied.  I think this may be of general inerest, particularly as many readers now obtain their books electronically.  I treat the subject in a non-technical way, and include several amusing anecdotes.

I will shortly be giving a talk to the U3A in Walsall. I would like to offer the same talk to other groups.

If you are interested I can be contacted by email or by phone.  I could be available at fairly short notice should you have a cancellation.

V

Disclaimers

It is always necessary to reassure readers that the characters in your books have nothing to do with them.
My favourite disclaimers:

If you think you are a character in this book you are wrong. It's not you.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent to them and those who know them, especially if the author has been kind enough to have provided their real names, and, in some cases, their phone numbers. All events described herein actually happened, though on occasion the author has taken certain, very small, liberties with chronology, because that is his right as an American.

From a film about a failed romantic relationship...Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental...especially you, Jenny Beckman...bitch.

Easter Sunday

It's Easter Sunday and my new novel, Autumn Butterfly, is live on Amazon.  If you could mention this to friends and family that would be wonderful. The Amazon link is:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/aw/s/ref=m...

What is it about?  Julia Campbell is left alone and probably destitute when her husband leaves her for a younger woman. Gradually, with the support of friends real and virtual, family, a smart solicitor, a dating website and a sharp learning curve she realises life is not over, it is just beginning.
Julia has learned to accept her husband's serial
unfaithfulness but when he leaves her she is left with nothing - children grown and gone, no partner, no money, no career, living in a house which must be sold, and desperately lonely.
From the secure but stifling shelter of a long marriage, she is suddenly left to find her own way in a world which has changed considerably since she was young and single.
Her daughter in Chicago, mother up north, and friends nearby, are all ready to nudge her forward. From this background of all-female support and encouragement, by means of a new laptop and a chat-room, Julia's experience of the male psyche is expanded. Her newly-identified need for a soulmate is taken into unexpected directions with the assistance of partners.com. New virtual men-friends online are ready to offer unexpurgated advice. Real menfriends from the dating web site are ready to help in many ways.



Julia's problems, new and old, seem to multiply, and then circumstances change.  Julia's longings and requirements are satisfied in an extirely unpredictable way.

I hope you buy it, read it, like it, and write a positive review for me on Amazon. 

Ps  If you think you are one of the characters in this novel you are wrong. It is definitely not you.

New Book Cover

My new book is almost ready.  
The first part of the job was to write the book...almost done.
The second job was to edit, revise, and change just about everything in it.
The third part was to choose a title.  After agonising over this since I first began writing it, the chosen title has evolved over several episodes, each more off the wall than the last.  Sixty Four was it's name for the last year. After this, Love, Sex and Propinquity was one of my favourites, but several people mentioned that they didn't know what propinquity was. Well, I did know, and I loved the sound of the word, but as my sister said, 'I wouldn't buy a book when I couldn't pronounce the title.'  Or did she say that about Love, Life and Lies? So feedback suggested the title had better be something else.
Finally I chose a short list of about ten.  Nine of these already had several books of the same title already on Amazon, so they were obviously good titles, and equally obviously could not be used. Further discussion.
Back to the drawing board, then suddenly - voila. Perfect.  Autumn Butterfly.
This title captures the story in two words, it allows a beautiful image on the cover, and I love the sound of it.
Done.

A New Personality in My Life

What can I say? Sometimes a personality enters your life which is like a force of nature. You cannot ignore it, and you cannot figure it out.  You just have to accept it is how it is, and get on with it.  Such is my new laptop, a Hewlett Packard which has - guess what - Windows 8.......da dah.
And I have no idea how it works.
Had it not been for Alan, I would still be sitting here looking at it, and then resorting to the old one, the much battered, finger-marked, scuffed Inspiron with the worn out keys and touchpad.
I have asked for and received a tutorial on the nuts and bolts of basics - what is Microsoft, what is a server, what is a browser, why has Microsoft swallowed everything on my laptop and refuses to give it back unless I have a zillion passwords, why, since I bought the HP have the passwords proliferated to the point of dizziness?  I now have a rough idea of how it goes.  But I still have a mental picture of a roomful of scary Computer Science graduates somewhere in California sitting round designing a new system which they think everyone can understand, based on what they think is common knowledge, because they were only born yesterday, and don't realise that there are users who were in their fifties when he internet emerged, and who do not have their background knowledge.
If you allegorised it, you'd be able to write a great fairy-story about wicked dragons, clever wizards, magic, crystal balls, castles in the air, and gremlins.

Real People

I have no time for real people.

Just got a new HP (not the sauce) touchscreen laptop and can now visit anyone or anywhere at the flick of a finger  .Machu Picu, Rio de Janeiro, San Francisco, Berlin, Prague - I visited them all in bed yesterday morning, in panorama.   The news is much more exciting now - didn't realise it was such a major industry, with video, photographs, and interviews with people all over the world; competing for consumers; I feel obliged to keep up.  Bing have gone to such a lot of trouble it's the least I can do.  

In addition to this I have facebook, letting me know minute by minute what a weird bunch the human race can be. Must keep up with that too, so I do, I use smartphone mostly for this. Smartphone also has Candy Crush which needs regular attention especially now I have reached level 60 - yes, I know that is an amazing achievement, but I worked hard for it. 

The old laptop, battered and without frills, feels left out, but hey, it's getting on a bit - five years old now. 
So - in the bedroom I have a telly, radio, books, smartphone, and laptop when required. Sometimes I even sleep in there. 
 In the living room a telly, a thing to play music on which I don't really understand, and two laptops, as necessary. 
 I have radios in the kitchen, car, bedroom and study - who has time for people?

It's amazing that I actually finished a book  - reading, not writing - last week.

When did I ever have time to go to work?

Rambling

I don't know if rambling is as popular in other countries as it is in the UK, but when we pulled into the car park at Ticknall, somewhere along the A50 in the direction of Derbyshire and Staffordshire, there were at least three other groups there, as well as the hoi polloi with dogs, in couples, with families and so on.  Ticknall is one of those brilliantly picturesque villages which you find all over England.   Walsall, where I live, is one of the Black Country Towns in the midlands, with an industrial past, but within one hour in any direction you can be out in the most wonderful countryside. You can drive through it, but if you really want to appreciate it, you need to get your boots on and walk. Today was a Leisure Walk, only 7.3 miles.  The main walks, on alternate Sundays, are about 10 miles but I have given those up because for the last three miles I tend to keep whining, 'Are we there yet?' and I think Its irritating to the other walkers.  So there you are,  walking, nattering, along a path by the edge of a hill and you look and there are about a dozen deer, peacefully grazing. Beautiful.They don't even look up as you pass, just keep on munching. This is what a well designed stile looks like.  It's low enough to climb over easily, and there are two 'handles' to grab onto, its well built, and solid.  Well done, someone out there in Derbyshire.  If stiles are badly designed and rickety it takes ages to get a big group over, and everyone has to stand about waiting, breaking the flow of the walk.  Some stiles are very badly kept, and some farmers put barbed wire across the top, can you believe. Morning coffee at Calke Abbey - or half an early lunch as it was for me. Thank you Tony for the lovely coffee. What's good about rambling?  Well, if you like walking, you get taken to places you never knew existed.  The walk leader with have reccied it beforehand, so you're not going to get lost.  It's always chosen because it's a nice place to be. Our system of car-sharing means that if you're lucky you can be a passenger and contribute to the petrol instead of driving back when you're knackered. You feel so virtuous when you're walking seven miles that you feel you're allowed to have a Mars Bar (this could be why I never seem to lose any weight as a result of walking). There are always interesting people to walk with and talk to.  Today we had a group of about 22, most of whom I knew, all of whom I really enjoy their company. Kevin told me about his new role with the Lichfield Players, Mark and I discussed world politics, John told me about the demise of his cat, I discussed implants (teeth) with Glenys, and the trip to Chester in May with Peter, Keith told me about the Scilly Isles and Molly told us about the notable landmarks as we passed them. Walkers are nice people. When you stop for lunch, it tastes fantastic.  And finally, when you get home and get into a hot bubble bath, the sensation is divine.
Today we stopped at Calke Abbey, and I had eaten half my sandwiches before someone reminded me this was just the coffee stop, and not lunchtime.  So when we stopped at Staunton Harald reservoir an hour or so later, I felt perfectly justified in buying a sausage roll. Now normally you'd think, yeah, ok, you had a sausage roll. But this wasn't just a sausage roll as we know it, it was the queen of sausage rolls, with real meal, tasting of pork and sage, hot and flakey, just out of the oven, and it was delicious.  Thank you, Penny's Cafe. As I said, walking makes you enjoy your food more, not that I could enjoy mine much more than I already do.
There are other ways to spend a Sunday - but this one is pretty good.  
My group is the Walsall branch of the Ramblers Association, but there is one near you, if you look online.

Cohabiting

It's like this. The Christmas before last, I was away for nearly two weeks. When I came back I found tea leaves scattered round my waste bin, and some more on the worktop.  When I had recovered enough from travel fatigue, I realised that I don't use loose tea, so it's not tea leaves.  Also, a banana in the fruit bowl had tiny little teeth marks all round one end. Immediate conclusion - a mouse has been in. Obviously.

Well, the weather was bitterly cold, and I thought I could kind of accept that a mouse was in my kitchen, and when the weather was warmer it would probably go outside again.  We could cohabit. After all, I had pet mice as a kid.

Just to be sure, I checked on the internet. Shock horror! Mice are incontinent; they wee all the time, including on your worktops.  They carry horrid pathogens on their feet from running about in the drains, and their fur is covered in greasy germs, which rub off on your cupboards and worktops.  

Before I had unpacked my suitcases I emptied all the kitchen cupboards, cleaned all them with disinfectant cleaner, emptied the bin and cleaned it, and put my stuff back in the cupboards.  Then, just to be sure, I put a piece of chocolate on a piece of kitchen roll on a cupboard shelf, and another on the worktop, and went to bed.  Next morning, the chocolate had gone. Both pieces. So it wasn't a passing mouse, it was one with serious intentions of taking up residence. I decided that if the choice was me or him, it had to be him.  I had to dispose of him.  Kill. Euthanase. Murder. Execute. Assassinate.  Commit mouseicide. It was a  phase in the evolution of mice - those who learn to stay outside can survive. 

Alan, the most pacifist, dedicated non-killer of anything living ever,  helped me to shop for a mousetrap.  The only one available was the old fashioned wooden one with a killer snap thing.  I got two. I tried to set them, and nearly lost my forefinger, they were so powerful, so he set them for me, baited with chocolate.  Then he went home. 

The next morning, sure enough, there was a dead body in the mousetrap. Really, really dead. It was either a very large mouse or a very, very small rat.  I prefer to think of it as a mouse.  And I had to dispose of it.  I toyed with the idea of just chucking the whole thing away, but the web site had pointed out that there is rarely an infestation of one mouse, it's usually a family, so I figured I might need it again.

I phoned Alan to tell him the good news, and he said, 'Oh dear, he was probably out looking for food for his family of baby mice, who are at home in the icy cold waiting for a father who will never return, starving to death.'  Well, that helped a lot.  In the end I realised I had a deeply ingrained streak of sheer survival instinct, and I disposed of the bod with a large wodge of kitchen paper.

However, in real life there is never a neat ending.  Not long after this my central heating system began to play up.  The plumber came out three times and changed various valves and other bits before concluding that there was nothing wrong with the boiler. The problem must be in the piping system, which is all under the floor, and he would have to start looking for it by taking up the carpets and the flooring underneath.  At £40 an hour.  

The first attempt uncovered a pipe  with little teeth marks in it.  It was repaired and the vermin man came to lay bait.  Next day - the pressure on the boiler dropped again, and the boiler cut out.  The plumber's second attempt, and more chewed pipes were discovered.  Repaired. Next day, again,  the pressure dropped, the boiler cut out.  Third attempt,,,more teeth marks and a repair. That was the last one, all within a short distance of the heat of the boiler in the airing cupboard, which was on the other side of the wall from an outside air brick with a tiny hole in it. The boiler settled down again, but by now I hate the entire mouse population of the western world.

In the end my uninvited guest had the last laugh from beyond the grave - my plumbers bill came to nearly £900. I hear ghostly mouse laughter and the sound of money being sucked out of my bank account every time I open the airing cupboard door.