Jo Robinson's Blog, page 117
May 20, 2013
A Story A Day In May 3 – Beyond The Blue Horizon
I used A Story A Day In May prompt #15 for this attempt – use this song title – Beyond The Blue Horizon. What fun!
Beyond The Blue Horizon
“I believe that it is nothing less than our duty to make contact with these beings.” Riblot peered at the screen. “They appear to be somewhat intelligent. We cannot leave without showing them that they are on a dangerous path.”
Zarble’s erect crest quivered, showing his distaste for the creatures scurrying across the screen.
“I cannot agree Commander. They bring to mind those that we eradicated on Arox-49. If we had arrived but a few centuries later they would instead have completely eradicated that most highly evolved species in the waters of their world. These beings are clearly a form of destructive parasite. I recommend that we cleanse this world of them. Considering that we are but two, our transporter and drive are damaged and not fully functional, and also, we are under specific instructions not to interact with new species. We know nothing of this planet other than what we have observed in one of their days. I say leave them be, or destroy them.”
Riblot uncoiled a tentacle from around the leg of his stool, and moved over to the window, staring at the planet below. He scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“Indeed,” he said in disgusted tones. “Those awful creatures on Arox ate their superiors. And it was not we who destroyed them, but your hasty tentacle! I merely took responsibility as your commanding officer. But, here I see hope. We cannot eradicate these beings! They are merely struggling to find their way to the higher knowledge of the cosmos. We can help them. Teach them. Show them the way.”
Zarble joined him at the window and sighed. “It is true that our great Queen was not pleased that we did not first take aboard a few specimens from Arox before destroying those disgusting creatures. She was angry that we might have made a mistake.”
He questioned the gentleness of his leaders. The dominant species on the planet below were clearly collectively insane, vicious, and apparently hell-bent on destroying not only themselves, but every other denizen of their world. His tentacle itched to release the missile that would rid the universe of them before they found a way to infest that too.
“Instead of contact, would it not be wiser to collect a few of these, er, to take home? We are not qualified to choose to include them into the universal community. We can beam down into the waters, assuming the transporter is working, and gather a few from among those that infest the seas in those floating contraptions, without making ourselves known to rest of them. Our suits are not visible, and our physical appearance should not attract their notice.”
Zarble watched his commander’s face light up at the thought of having company on the long flight home. It was boring with just the two of them, and the damage to the drive negated the possibility of their usual mode of travel.
“Yes!” Riblot’s beak trembled excitedly. “We so closely resemble those creatures we briefly spotted in the deeps of their oceans that we will not frighten any of them. We will go under cover of darkness.”
“Hmm,” said Zarble. “That’s another thing. That group appeared much more intelligent than the parasites, er, beings, you wish to meet. We could be mistaking what appears to be the dominant species here for the most advanced.”
Riblot irritably swatted Zarble’s eyeball with an extended tentacle. “Let us not forget who is in charge of this mission Lieutenant! Bring me my suit, and let us get on with this harvesting.”
*
They undulated through the warm waters of the ocean, unaware of what waited beyond the blue horizon.
“It’s wonderful being out of the vessel, and swimming free after all this time aboard ship, is it not Zarble?”
Zarble’s terror had begun to grow when he realised that the faulty transporter had deposited them in the warm, salty sea, twenty times reduced in size. He looked nervously at the myriad of creatures swimming around, inspecting them. He also was beginning to doubt the integrity of his invisible, protective suit. He felt sure that he had felt a nip when a strange looking finned thing had darted behind him.
“Commander! We must abort this mission. I feel unsafe!”
“Nonsense! Your cowardice is unfounded and embarrassing Lieutenant! Look above. Here is one of their floating devices now. Have the immobiliser at the ready. Prepare to board. Aaargh! My eyes! What is this bright beam that so attracts me?”
*
“Come on Jan. Have a bit!”
“Nah. Those two didn’t look right to me. Never seen a day-glo pink calamari with fourteen tentacles before.”
“Arr well. Your loss. Seems right enough to me. Not as chewy as the last lot.”
Ryder squeezed more lemon on the final morsel of tasty tentacle, and popped it in his mouth.
© Jo Robinson 2013
Till next time friends. xxx
A Story A Day In May 2 – The Right Thing To Do
I wrote my daily story yesterday, but couldn’t get online to open WordPress. Never mind. Today there shall be two. I used A Story A Day In May writing prompt #19. Start in the middle of the story, and use one of the choice of sentences, “So, will you marry me or not?” Here it is.
The Right Thing To Do
“So, will you marry me or not?” he’d asked.
She’d looked up into his eyes, wanting more than anything to shout “Yes!”. She couldn’t though. She could never steal another woman’s husband. Reluctantly she drew away, lifting her hands away from his chest, knowing that she would have to tell him not to come back here. Not ever. She couldn’t bear to see his face, knowing that she could never touch it again. Not even once a week.
“Forgive me sister, for I have sinned.”
Her reverie shattered, Naomi glanced around the empty church, then at the veiled woman seated beside her.
“Are you talking to me?”
Stacy irritably yanked the black lace veil from her head and glared. Naomi edged away slightly, startled at both the beauty of the face revealed, and the venom in the sapphire blue eyes.
“Yes, I’m talking to you. I don’t see any other preacher in the room.”
Self-consciously rearranging her vestments, Naomi stood up. She seldom took an instant dislike to anyone, but this angelic looking woman with the devil in her eyes made her hackles rise.
“I’m not catholic,” she said tautly. “Neither am I a nun. We don’t do confessions here.”
She fought the urge to walk away. As a minister of her faith, it was her duty to help any soul in need of succour. She forced more gentle tones.
“However. If there is anything you’d like to talk about, I’d be more than willing to hear you out, and—.”
Stacy nodded. “It’s my husband. Rick.” Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. “He says he’s leaving me.”
Naomi sat down again, trying to hide the shock from her face.
“I know he won’t go. No man dumps me. You wouldn’t understand I suppose.” Her gaze moved from Naomi’s mousy hair, lingered on her distinctly round middle, and finally focused on her comfortable black brogues, eyebrow raised in distaste. “It’s just that he keeps on mumbling on about vows. Wedding vows. That’s why I thought I’d come here.”
This was familiar territory. Naomi shuffled her feet as far under the pew as she could.
“What about wedding vows? Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Stacy. I’m Stacy Keans. Our vows. Our wedding vows. He says that I don’t love, honour, or cherish him. He says that I’ve broken my part of our agreement, so he’s going. Leaving me.” Her face twisted, self-pity and temper making it ugly, if only for a second. “I’ll take him to the cleaners if he does. Idiot! He won’t go though. I know what men want. He’ll soon get over whatever floozy he’s panting over. There must be a floozy somewhere.”
Naomi tried to make sense of this jumble of words. Of course she believed that marriage vows were sacred, and that leaving a wedded partner was the true breaking of those. A sin in God’s eyes. She’d tried to help struggling couples work through their problems, and stay together, no matter what. She’d heard of many reasons people gave for leaving a spouse, but never put as simply as this.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Do I what?”
“Love, honour, and cherish him?”
Stacy scowled. “What the hell has that got to do with anything? He’s my husband. He can’t just leave!”
Naomi’s mind was forming connections. This woman’s attitude, and that one sentence, had suddenly sent her thoughts in directions they’d never before taken. She said nothing, instead silently pondering the sanctity of the vows of marriage.
Stacy lost patience when a reply wasn’t instantly forthcoming. She attempted an answer.
“Nobody really means those words, do they? Old fashioned nonsense. What’s love anyway?” she said. “He’s a good looking guy. What’s not to like? He makes good money. I don’t see why I should break my back for him though. That’s what this is all about. I’m not cooking piles of food all the time and cleaning his messes. He’s big enough to look after himself. Why should I? I’m no man’s skivvy. I didn’t vow to do that!”
“I have to go.” Naomi stood up looking at her watch.
“But—. But what about my question? Is he allowed to leave me because of that? If the church says he can’t, he won’t. He’s always been a bible basher. Always moaning that I don’t go to church with him every Sunday. Why should I? I’ve got better things to do with my time. No offense. Anyway. What’s the answer? What would God say?”
Naomi looked at the people coming in for Sunday service, then down at Stacy.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I really have to go now. But maybe your answer will be right here today. The answer to saving your marriage. God works in mysterious ways. He always provides the answers. But it’s always up to us to see them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why don’t you stay for service? Stay right where you are, and your answers may become clear to you.”
Stacy snatched up her veil, looking with supreme disdain at the growing crowd around her. Once again her gaze ripped down Naomi’s body, but this time the minister didn’t flinch. Instead she turned to the pulpit, not bothering to see whether she stayed or not.
The murmuring and shuffling quietened, and she looked down on her congregation, finally focusing on the man who now sat where Stacy had sat. The man she had only yesterday told that they could never be together, even as her heart broke saying the words. Divorce was a sin in God’s eyes. No matter how much she loved him, the vows of marriage were sacrosanct. Now she knew that this was true. They were not meant to be broken. Their eyes locked, and her stomach lurched. She couldn’t wait till after the service to tell him. To tell him that she would vow to love, honour, and cherish him, for all the days of her life. A deal was a deal after all. And if you broke it—. Well. Then it was no vow at all. Of course she would agree to become Mrs Rick Keans. She wouldn’t be stealing a thing.
© Jo Robinson 2013
Till next time friends. xxx
Author Spotlight – Lucy Pireel
My lovely friend and author, Lucy Pireel is with me today, to tell us about her books, and a little about herself and her life too. Not only is she a talented author, she is also one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She selflessly helps and promotes other independent authors, showcasing their work, and featuring them on her blogsite – see Lucy Pireel’s Blog here. It’s an honour to call this lady with the heart of gold my friend, and to share her work here with you today. Let us begin with a short autobiography.
Lucy Pireel loves to write and read. She does not limit herself to one genre, but writes what she thinks would work for a story. At times this means writing Science Fiction, or fairy tales, while some are pure erotica.
She is happy to successfully have self-published her first three books, while editing her full-length, paranormal, erotic novel at the same time. Of course she writes more too; there are always new ideas for stories playing through her head, ranging from flash to full length novels.
Lucy enjoys long walks in the great outdoors, or twisting herself into a pretzel while doing yoga. All to unwind after a day of writing, or editing. At the moment she lives in the UK and enjoys the country and its people very much. She’s very much a people’s person. Should readers want to ask her a question, she’s easily found on facebook. Or visit her blog at WordPress. And for the really interested reader/fan, she even has her own author site (www.lucypireel.com)
And now, straight to the questions. Comfy?
1. What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Yoga, walking with the dog, trying to bake stuff, all sorts of stuff but mainly cakes and breads 
That is one cute doggie Lucy!
2. What do you like to read, and who are your favourite authors?
I like to read everything that is books, even scientific magazines. You know Jo? I don’t really have a favourite author. I like too many different genres to have one favourite. There is just too much good stuff out there and not enough time to read it all. Eeeps!
3. When did you begin to write?
Ah, when did it all began? I’ve always been a story teller, but only when my son asked me for a pirate story in which something really happened I seriously worked on writing. Not that that one will ever be published. My passion lies in the adult corner, dark and erotic. Not necessarily combined.
4. What music do you listen to, if any, when you write?
I don’t deliberately listen to any kind of music when writing. I kind of like the sound of my brain at work. But I do have a favourite song.
Kashmir by Led Zeppelin. But other than that I pretty much like all music from classical to … think of something and I might even like it.
5. What do you love?
Life, writing and having fun with my friends (like you).
6. What don’t you like?
Leeches, and people who try to get you down.
7. Tell us a little about your next book.
I’m working on a collection of dark tales, but I also have a pararom novel finished (John Cameron McClain has it now to beta-read), and I’m working on another erotic novella and then there is the … Oh, shoot, I just have so many WIPs some days I don’t know on which one I want to work most.
8. What genres do you write?
All of them, except YA and Dystopian.
9. Tell us about your published works.
There is Red Gone Bad, a collection of twisted fairy tales with murderous and in general not really nice heroines.
Bound, my pride and joy at the moment. A BDSM novella. One reviewer said it was a pleasure to read a BDSM story in which the guy wasn’t a jerk on a power trip. I was right chuffed reading that.
But I am also very proud of my sci-fi diptych which ran as cover story on issue #3 of Isotropic Fiction
May 18, 2013
A Story A Day In May – Stanley’s Review
I’ve just signed up for A Story A Day In May. I’m a bit late, but then, that seems to be my online brand anyway. The thing to do is to write thirty one short stories of between 50 and 5 000 words during the month of May. I try to post a blog every day, God, the weather, the electricity supply authority, my internet supplier, and of course my computer, willing, so I thought I’d have a little bash at it, and share my attempts here with you.
I’m planning on having fun with these stories. Pure fun, so I probably won’t be posting anything overly literary – for a change. Here goes number one – well – number eighteen to be honest. I’ll try to catch up the ones I missed.
Stanley’s Review
“Stanley. Where the hell’s my tea?”
Stanley flinched, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the glowing screen in front of him. The excitement of realising that someone had posted a review of his book, the book that had taken him ten years to write, had been quenched when he saw the single lonely star, and read the scathing words.
From George Witherall
Not only do I regret ever laying eyes on this appalling book, I also regret looking at this author’s profile to see what manner of fool could write so badly, and coming face to face with the ugliest man alive. Load of rubbish. The only recommendation that I could give for this trash would be incineration.
“Stanley!”
“Yes Mother. I’m coming!”
The cold shock of reading his very first book review had rendered him incapable of movement. The rage that now filled him as he clicked away, looking for more information on George Witherall, threatened to blow the top of his head off. What had he ever done to this person? What sort of thing was that to say about his book? Had he even read it? And how dare he comment on his appearance? In a few minutes he was looking at his foul detractor’s Facebook page. Scrolling down, he sneered at the smiling, handsome face. And then with a shock, he realised that he recognised it.
“Stanley. You bastard!”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, leaping from his chair and heading to the kitchen.
He looked around the immaculate room. His kitchen now. He’d been born in this very place forty seven years ago, he’d been told. Smiling, he remembered gleefully setting about scrubbing it from top to bottom on the day his mother had finally taken to her bed properly a few months back. Dirty old woman. He adjusted his red bow tie, still smarting from such terrible insults being so casually posted on an international book vending site, for all the world to see.
Scowling, trying to remember where he recognised that face from, he measured three spoons of Earl Grey into the teapot. He carefully placed four chocolate digestives on a side plate, and then it hit him. Of course! George Witherall’s face had lately been plastered on billboards all over town. He owned the new department store on West street.
Stanley rushed back to his desk and dialled enquiries. Soon, after a few short rings, a melodious voice answered.
“Mr Witherall’s office. How may I help you?”
“Is he in?”
“Yes Sir. Who may I say—.”
He hastily disconnected, and rushed to his room.
“Stanley. My tea. What’r you doing you bloody little shi—!”
The kettle clicked off and the tea remained unmade. Stanley was loading his .38.
©Jo Robinson 2013
Till next time friends. xxx
May 17, 2013
Wrong Ones Have The Rights
On the news last night was a bit about a middle aged Malaysian couple (Soh Chew Tong and his wife Chin Chui Ling) receiving twenty four year prison sentences for culpable homicide. Last year their maid (twenty three year old Mey Sichan from Cambodia) was found dead. Cause of death – acute gastritis and ulcers caused by lack of food over a long period. She weighed only 26 kilograms and was covered with bruises from injuries inflicted during the eight months that she worked for these people. They starved her to death. Another shameful murder of someone without the resources or “power” to help themselves.
This is one of the sorts of things that made me write African Me. Because of an accident of birth you’re rich or poor. Black or white. People have staff working for them all over the world. If you’re a posh butler for some lord of the manor in the first world, you’re likely to be treated with respect and paid well for your services. Lots of my friends went au pairing after school to see the world for free, and came back with mostly good reports of their overseas employers. This mostly isn’t the case when it comes to really poor people having no other options but to work as badly paid maids or gardeners in other parts of the world. The core of apartheid in South Africa was keeping the majority of the citizens uneducated and not able to ever rise above the “station” in life that they had been allocated. Even though African countries have gained independence now, so many years of this kind of oppression has created whole sectors of nations that are unable to drag themselves out of this.
Here in Zimbabwe today it is common for a gardener or maid to earn US $60 a month. This will buy you a bottle of oil, some maize meal and about six or seven other cheap items of food like dried beans. In exchange for this they get accommodation – not necessarily with electricity and very seldom with any sort of indoor plumbing. Working hours vary, but a lot of these people generally go to work most days of the week, often having to stay late into the evenings to sort out supper for their employers. I’ve known people that take their maids on camping holidays with them to care for their children and do any cleaning and cooking that needs to be done. These people are expected to do every little thing, while at the same time remain “invisible”. Not many of their bosses care about the things that happen in their lives. Deaths or difficulties in their families are of no interest at all, and often regarded as a nuisance or a cheek if mentioned. Granted, some employers are nicer than others and pay well, or give their staff extra groceries in addition to their wages, but not the majority that I’ve noticed. Some “madams” scream abuse at their staff, or “punish” them in the most small-minded ways. These must be the most hurtful, painful things in the world to have inflicted on you, when you’re helpless, have no money, or anywhere else to turn to.
There was an incident many years ago where a man, here in Zimbabwe, tied his gardener to the back of his truck and drove up the highway pulling the screaming man along the road, because he thought he had stolen something from him. Of course the gardener died. But those were still the days when that sort of behaviour was acceptable. Beating or killing black people wasn’t considered a big deal then. Maybe nowadays you won’t get away with actual killing, but people are still getting away with shocking abuses of others, purely because they’re hungry and desperate, and have no other recourse that they can see. This has nothing to do with politics or who’s in charge now. In post-colonial Africa the blame for this rests solidly on the hundreds of years of evil and twisted colonial rules. End of. Anyone on the planet thinking that they’re in any way “superior” to anyone else, and therefore have the right to abuse or oppress that person in any way, places them squarely below worm turd in my opinion. Twenty four years in jail seems a light sentence for beating a twenty three year old and withholding food for eight months till she died. Sometimes an eye for an eye just seems like a much better solution to me.
Till next time friends. xxx
Do you really wonder why they hate?
Photo courtesy of Johan Kuus – Apartheid South Africa
May 14, 2013
I Want A Salesman (or Lady)
Reality programmes could very well be a treasure trove for writers looking for characters for their scribbles. They can get you thinking outside the box too. Come Dine With Me is one of my favourites. Get five strangers to throw dinner parties for each other one night after another, throw in buckets of booze, a couple of strong-willed individuals, and you have a recipe for at least one disaster. I watched one where one lady was incredibly easily offended, while at the same time being incredibly offensive. She really made my skin crawl just watching her nastiness. It made me think of the few really dislikeable people I’ve come across in my time. Those people that will rudely respond to anything that you say, sometimes even twisting an intended compliment around, and taking it as a personal insult. With these guys it’s all about the “me”. I imagined for a minute trying to sell this woman a book. In the world of real salespeople, you should be able to find a method to do this very thing. Theoretically.
I remember back in the day when I was still a go-getting, career oriented yuppie, I went on a three day sales and marketing seminar at a casino resort. In between the required all night partying, and the costly discovery of a possible one-armed bandit addiction, I picked up a few tips. One of them was to “Know Your Customer”. What one person finds appealing in your bid to sell them ice in winter, another will find irritating – or worse still, see your pitch as an attack on their personal space or time. This could lead to not only an earful, but a character shredding of your worthy self to other potential customers, and subsequent loss of future sales. I think that this could apply to indie authors trying to sell their books also.
You have characters that are so soft that they are easily swayed (or sometimes bullied) into buying just about anything that a salesperson waves at them. You have people that are open to hearing what you have to say, and may or may not buy your product based on whether they actually want it. There are loads of different people out there who respond in different ways to marketing attempts coming their way. Some are genuinely just not interested, and tired of being constantly bombarded with products they have no interest in. They might get a little angry and say something harsh or at the least just totally ignore you. Then – at the dark end of the spectrum, you have the people who are just waiting for some bastard salesman to just try and sell their rotten stuff to them. They take pleasure in being offended, and often equal pleasure in trying to take said rotten bastard cheeky sales guy down and stomp on them as hard as they can.
With general marketing such as advertising in publications or on billboards the seller feels none of this, but with personal sales – as in one on one communication with a potential client – the innocent, untrained salesman of his lovely just published indie book faces a minefield of potentially being stomped on. Sales staff are often employed for not only their training and experience, but also on the basis of their charm and good looks. Not all indies are naturally charming, outgoing, or good looking. Some are painfully shy too. For this reason I’m still baffled as to the best way to market indie books. The more I see posts of nice people genuinely tired of having hard sell methods used on them to buy books, and posts of really nice author guys that have had their noses bitten off for merely mentioning their book to the wrong person, the more I come to the conclusion that I’m missing something here. If someone feels bullied into buying a book they’re automatically not going to feel the love and read it with an open mind. If you don’t try and sell your books nobody will buy them. Not a win win situation.
One thing I do know though, is that just as scribblers are very similar to each other with their creative, gentle souls, so are salesmen a particular breed of razor-witted individuals. Not many people get to be both. They also study for their trade. A three year sales and marketing course is not going to be replaced by guesswork. Why not ask the question of those who might be able to come up with an answer? Can’t hurt. I haven’t been in the world of salespeople for years, but remembering that tenacious bunch, I’ve decided to look online for a group of them, and put this indie book marketing problem to them as a challenge – What’s A New Way To Market Indie Books. So, if any of my friends has a salesman in the house, please give me a shout. It’s time to get the big guns out. We need to learn how to sell from those who know selling, and are as passionate about their jobs as we are about writing. I don’t think I’ve seen a single club or course for writers to learn about the job of selling. If they’re up for a challenge, we might come up with totally new strategies. And we can then give them free copies of our books to review…
Till next time friends. xxx
May 12, 2013
Author Spotlight – Jennie Orbell
Today with me, in celebration of her novel Mulligan’s Reach, is my lovely friend and author Jennie Orbell. I read and reviewed this book a while ago, and now I want to share it with you. It appealed to me on many levels, and is one of those books that you really don’t want to put down no matter how many jobs you have on your to do list. Apart from getting totally involved with the human characters, I especially loved the horses in this story. Jennie writes as many of my favourite authors do, and pulls you right in to her tales. So, wanting to introduce this talented author to you, I invited her to join me here today to answer a few questions, and she graciously accepted.
By way of a short introduction I can tell you that Jennie Orbell lives in the United Kingdom, writes romantic suspense, short fiction, contemporary fiction, and romance. Her likes and loves include positive people, cats with attitude, sponge cakes that rise, snails that stay in other people’s gardens and being a Scorpio extremist. She dislikes self-important/pessimistic people, broken promises and all forms of cruelty to animals. Her hobbies include; Tarot card reading, making home-made wine (although she rarely drinks it! No, really!) gardening, baking, and caring for the important things in her life. She shares her life with her partner, Richard, whom for some strange reason appears to accept all of the above.
Her life quotes are:
What doesn’t destroy you makes you stronger.
I will lay me down a while and bleed, then rise and fight again.
And, It is better to say nothing and appear stupid than to speak and remove all doubt.
And now straight in to the questions.
1. Why did you pick Australia as the locale for Mulligan’s Reach
For some inexplicable reason Australia was the natural choice. It gave me permission to delve into a land mystical and wondrous. I probably have to blame Paul Hogan a bit. His portrayal of Crocodile Dundee and that sound track appealed so much. I love the Australian accent and the words they use. I find it addictive and actually quite sexy. Opps. Probably shouldn’t have said that?
2. The horses in this book are very real characters in their own rights. Are any of the things that they did, or happened to them based on fact?
Ha ha – yes. I guess Alex sitting astride a bolting Holly is quite near to home. I was carted along a three-foot wide grass verge at the side of a dual carriageway on a friend’s racehorse. The horse was stabled across the dual carriageway, over the central reservation and across the opposite dual carriageway. I knew if I didn’t stop the horse it would reach the point opposite its stable and cart me straight across four lanes of heavy traffic. Fortunately I managed to haul it in or I certainly wouldn’t be here to tell this particular tale! I haven’t rescued a horse from the Pacific Ocean like Alex did – but I never rule anything out in this life?
3. What was the inspiration for the story?
I’m not sure I was ‘inspired’ in the true sense of the word. It was more like a manic interest to discover what might happen if I threw together an Australian boat captain, two American cowboys, two English women, a few mad-cap horses and an island paradise that became an island hell? I simply introduced the cast and they all played their parts.
4. Did you have to do a lot of research?
There was a certain amount of research regarding the Aboriginal content in the book. And it was also vital that I put the ‘imaginary’ island in the right area of the Pacific Ocean – a few miles in the wrong direction and I would have had an island nearer to New Zealand than Australia! Also the flora and fauna required a little checking up on.
5. Do you think you’ll ever revisit Mulligan’s Reach in another book?
I would love to revisit Mulligan’s Reach but I seriously doubt that I will. The story line was pretty conclusive, although I will admit that the idea has crossed my mind. And my mind is a dangerous place!
6. Can you tell us a little about your loves and interests?
Most of the things I love are very simple things. I love nature, or the kinder, softer side of nature. I’m not delirious about lions bringing down newly-born zebra or cats ripping birds to shreds but I do love dragonflies flitting over ponds, mist hanging low over fields, horses galloping, fruit ripening, the smell of warm soil and spring rain. I could never imagine not growing things. The garden with its seasons and its constant challenges appeals greatly. I love God’s flora and fauna and feel blessed that I have realised this in my lifetime.
I love country music above all other because each song is usually a story. Country songs, to me, are like shortened books or films and many an idea for a short story has been born from a country song. The fact that the odd song has wrist-slitting lyrics is just par for the course.
I read tarot cards and believe in ghosts and angels. I’m sure you are, at this point, laughing or tuning out but that doesn’t matter because I know these things to be true – and I have reached that knowing stage of my life where I feel that I don’t have to justify my beliefs. I have seen a ghost. I have felt the presence of an angel.
I think I actually enjoy being a little weird! It keeps the old Christmas card list to a minimum!
7. Tell us about your work in progress, The Sleeping Field.
Marrakesh Madder sees dead people – children mainly. Although many doubt her ability, D.I.Bart doesn’t and has, in the past, called on Mari to help. While some may call it a gift Mari calls it a curse and after finding a small child, Rosie Tucker, decides that she can no longer do it. Mari leaves London and the family home, bequeathed to her by her parents, and travels to Devonshire, to the home of her elderly aunts, Grace and Vi Madder.
The Madder sisters own and run Mill Cottage, a sanctuary for old and neglected donkeys. It is Mari’s intention to stay at Mill Cottage, to make it her home and help her elderly aunts, ploughing the money from her London house into the sanctuary.
Mari adores her aunts but swears to keep her secret from them. Little does she know that she has arrived at a place which has many secrets of its own – including the place that her aunt Grace lovingly calls the Sleeping Field.
Thank you for being here today Jennie, and for sharing your time with us. I can tell you that I’m really looking forward to reading your book number four. Now, hurry up and finish writing it!
Here’s where you can find Mulligan’s Reach.
Amazon.com Kindle Book
Amazon.uk Kindle Book
Amazon.uk Paperback
Amazon.com Paperback
My Review:
Riveting!, March 22, 2013
By Jo Robinson
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Mulligan’s Reach (Kindle Edition)
I laughed. I cried. I fell in love. This is the third book I’ve read by this author, and even though I expected to love it on the strength of my enjoyment of the first two, the power of this story took me by surprise. It’s a wild and brilliant ride all the way through. It is unexpected and intense from the first page to the last, and hard not to gush about and give the game away. There is murder, intrigue, and unexpected passion. Alex Mc Bride has been so deeply hurt that she doesn’t ever want a man again. Her life is wrapped up in her stud farm on an island off the coast of Australia. The arrival of Kane Mitchell seems to be the trigger of a chain of terrifying events, and Alex can’t figure out who is to blame for them. I loved the people in this book. I loved the horses in this book. They are the kind of heroic that makes you cry a little – sometimes quite a lot. I especially loved Aussie boat captain Arthur “Plug” Towers. I highly recommend this book. Once you start reading it you won’t be able to stop.
You can find all Jennie’s books on her Amazon author page.
Jennie Orbell on Amazon
Or look her up on:
Jennie Orbell on Facebook
Jennie Orbell on Twitter
Jennie Orbell’s Blog
May 10, 2013
The Hazards Of Writing
Unusually for me lately, I had a very productive morning. Until a couple of hours ago that is. Here I sat, minding my own business, and contemplating what gem of great knowledge or insight to share with my friends, as I do, when one of the horde scored a direct hit on my right eyeball with a chunk of extra spicy hot chilli beef. I don’t eat beef so I’m not all that keen on having a bit inserted into any sort of facial orifice anyway, but I can assure you that having a bit of Scotch Bonnet chilli adhering to your cornea is no walk in the park either. After much yelling, swearing, and pouring of milk into my by then raisin-like part, I had to hang around on the couch for a bit before I could see straight again. Obviously the solicitous horde stayed with me throughout before heading back to their carnivore lunch. I’m thinking now of having the rest of the evening off from computering today. There’s only so much you can do to an eyeball in one day really. So.
To those people who think that writing isn’t a difficult and hazardous profession I say… Well… Apart from the possible painful calluses to the buttock area, you have all sorts of writing related physical ailments that could come your way. If you don’t do at least twelve minutes (yes – twelve) of vigorous physical exercise every day, you could develop an unsightly protrusion around your naval area. Then you have the thing you get from fiddling with the mouse all day and banging away at your keyboard – where your thumb goes all dead for weeks on end. Then there’s frozen kneecaps, squished lower vertebrae and all sorts of other torments to dodge. There are many more dangers to innocent writers that my one tightly closed eyeball slightly puts me off from having to type right now. All I can say to my fellow scribblers today is – stay safe guys, stay safe.
Till next time friends. xxx
May 8, 2013
The Super Sweet Blogging Award
Thank you very much to Steve at Imagineer for nominating me for The Super Sweet Blogging Award. I gratefully accept the Sweetness! Not only is Steve a most talented author, but a great source of information and support for all of us indie writers out there. Pop over to his site and meet him – he’s a great guy.
The Rules:
Thank the Super Sweet Blogger that awarded you.
Answer five Super Sweet questions.
Include the Super Sweet Blogging Award image in your blog post.
Nominate a baker’s dozen (13) other bloggers.
Notify your nominees on their blog.
The Five Super Sweet Questions:
Cookies or Cake?
CAKE!! Chocolate coconut cake with ganache and cherries and drizzled dark chocolate.
Chocolate or Vanilla?
Both. And strawberry.
Favourite Sweet Treat?
Nougat, and Turkish Delight, and chocolate, and, and…
When do you crave sweet things the most?
When I wake up, after breakfast, and after lunch, and generally after pretty much anything. Before sometimes too.
Sweet Nick Name?
Georgie. It’s a funny thing with nick names. My name is Jo on my birth certificate, and not short for anything, so I guess the instinct is to make it longer, and more full-bodied. It means Beloved One by the way, for those of my friends who aren’t yet obeying the name.
And now to the best part of receiving this award. Announcing my nominees. Truthfully I have loads of brilliant blogging friends that I’d like to add, but thirteen is the magic number on this one, so here goes.
My Nominated Sweeties (and these guys are Sweeties indeed) Are:
May 7, 2013
Be Careful Where You Wander
There are some indie writers and bloggers that are really clever and knowledgeable about the world of IT. I’m not one of them. I’m thinking that there might be a couple of scribblers out there that also only came to the world wide web for the first time when they thought that they’d just write a little book or two. So I’m sharing my small personal Q&A, and then maybe something that you really ought to know.
Q. Your visibility. Are you seen everywhere on the world wide web and known “out there”? How do you think people see you?
A. Yes! I’m that strange woman who pops up in odd places, and disappears regularly and mysteriously. Um…
Points out of 10 : 10
Q. Your content. Do you supply great content to your readers?
A. How else would they have found out about the Banana Slicer? Really!!!
Points out of 10 : 10
Q. Are you consistent? It is important not to confuse or irritate your readers with wildly conflicting information.
A. Absolutely! I’m consistently inconsistent.
Points out of 10 : 10
Q. Are you sure never to bore your readers with rambling tales and blurry photos of your boring life and boring pets?
A. Who? Me?
Points out of 10 : 10
Q. Is your computer and the work that you have on it safe from cyber invasions such as malware?
A. Yes! Firewall in place. Latest anti-virus protection loaded, active, and regularly scanned.
Points out of 10 : ZERO!
Some of my friends might have noticed that even considering my usual disappearances, just lately I’ve been more absent than present on the good old internet. For a few weeks now I’ve been having problems with my desk top computer. It kept on rebooting itself for no apparent reason, and a window kept popping up telling me that I was out of Virtual Memory space. Even though an actual check of my available memory space showed that I had loads, I deleted things until there was hardly anything left. Still the rebooting and pop up message. I always do regular cleans on my computer, as well as running regular anti-virus scans. I went a step further and defragged the whole thing. Yesterday as a last resort I installed new malware software and, not expecting anything, ran a scan. And there it was. Malware on my computer. I removed it, re-cleaned my computer, and will be running scans for these things every day from now.
Reading up on this thing, I discovered the reason for my computer’s behaviour. These things enter your computer via a “back door”. I don’t know what this means other than the fact that it zoomed on in past both firewall and anti-virus programme without being picked up. Apart from the obvious methods of entry like clicking on one of those messages, apparently from someone you know, saying things like “Is that really you in this picture?”, or even something as harmless as uploading a picture from the web, they can also hop on board from any sort of innocuous seeming website that you open. Once in they can not only steal all your passwords, bank information, anything at all that you have on your computer, they can also “hijack” your computer, and use it not only for sending out spam to others, but also to host illegal sites. This would explain why you don’t have enough Virtual Memory. It’s being used by some weirdo on the web to get up to something that can’t be done legally.
My computer is now as anti-malware ninja as I can get it. I’ve also learned that if you are active on the internet, you not only have to install very good anti-malware software, you also have to update it EVERY DAY. This is how often new malware is being created and lobbed about cyberworld. You also have to run scans regularly. I’ll be doing this daily from now on. Maybe finding this was just a fluke, and my computer really is heading off to cyber heaven for some other reason, but for now it seems to be back to its normal happy self, and I’ve almost caught up again, but I thought that I would share this with my indie and blogger friends that might not know these things yet, and give them another little thing to add to the ol’ To Do list.
Till next time friends. xxx
