Ingela Bohm's Blog, page 22

Release (Pax Cymrica #3)

This post and the links in it contain advertisements for my book.

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Things are moving forward for Pax. At 35 miles per day, to be exact. Their new tour may be unorthodox, but they do have fans, tucked away in the backwaters of England. Besides, there are whispers about bigger gigs, maybe even another album. But there’s something wrong with Jamie. Michael doesn’t want to believe it, but on the eve of their big break, the truth threatens to destroy everything.

“Ingela Bohm did an excellent job with all her characters and this story but Jamie’s character in particular. I didn’t feel like I was just reading words on a page but I was actually in his head with as scary and as hard as it was to be there sometimes it made this series one of my favorites.” (World of Diversity)

“It’s almost impossible to read it with a dry eye … Ms. Bohm is such a lyrical, masterful writer that, at times, she takes my breath away. There are moments of unmatched tenderness, breathtaking first-love, depths of despair and betrayal, broken hearts and soaring hearts, evil, beauty and love – and above it all, music.” (Sinfully Addicted)

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The Road Taken (Pax Cymrica #2)

This post and the links in it contain advertisements for my book.

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When the only way to be together is to stay apart.

Michael and Jamie have one rule to follow in their new life as touring musicians: DON’T. Don’t share rooms. Don’t collaborate on the songs. Don’t even look at each other without permission from the powers that be.

But the music is suffering. The chemistry that made the band is gone, together with their happiness. It all seems hopeless, until they get an idea: what they need is an innocent front. In short, a beard. Sapphire offers to help, and while they get a little more than they bargained for, the price they pay seems worth it.

But when Michael has an accident, they have to hire a temporary bassist. The new guy may be a virtuoso on his instrument, but he also has plans above his station. Little by little, Michael’s place both in the band and by Jamie’s side is taken over by other people.

The question becomes, how much is he willing to sacrifice to stay in the closet?

“Ingela Bohm generated some really strong emotions in me, both about and toward her characters and their shitty situations. That’s the hallmark of a great writer for me … Bohm is a force to be reckoned with in this genre.” (The Novel Approach)

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Six months apart

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Petals in the sun

This blog post contains advertisments for and links to my books.

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Everything is reaching now – reaching for the light, the rain, the air. Me too. Today I finally felt like I woke up from my winter coma. Maybe it’s my thyroid meds that are working, maybe it’s the sun, but just like these flowers I feel rejuvenated and bright.

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I was at a press conference today for a radio show that I’m participating in this summer. I’m filling my slot with the tale of my PhD and a truckload of good music.

And when I sat there among all those accomplished people, I had this feeling: that I’d finally arrived, or at least got somewhere in my life. I listed the things I am, the things I can do, and I realized that it’s starting to become quite the list. Just as long as I don’t step back into the shadow and downplay it all. As long as I keep on reaching.

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(The above pictures are total rip-offs of this image, by the way. Tip of the hat to Pete Hillman for the idea to angle the camera so as to capture the sunlight pooling in the actual flower.)

Anyway, I can tell you that it was extremely liberating to suddenly feel that I was someone. You don’t really feel that when you shuffle around in a narrow, dark brick corridor from the sixties that smells of sweat and old wood. (I’m talking about my place of work.) But today was sunny, warm, and windy, and I wore a dress that fluttered around me as I walked, and – not to stretch the simile – I felt like a flower dancing in the breeze.

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Speaking of flowers, next week is Midsummer’s Eve, when local legend has it that if you pick seven flowers and put under your pillow, you’ll dream of the one you will marry. I’m already married, of course, so I don’t need to – but Christer and Henrik in The Seventh Flower, my Dreamspinner World of Love novella, definitely do!

Roman update

Work progresses slowly in the Roman room. Last night I surprised myself by putting in several hours of work – on a day when I’d promised myself not to budge the fraction of an inch from the TV sofa. But it turned out that scraping old floors was the perfect antidote to a goddamn aneurysm over the many stupid flaws of the education system. Win-win.

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I’ve been spicing up my videos with royalty free music, so you might want to have a look at my latest effort – tongue firmly in cheek.

Blushing blooms

This week has seen our national day come and go, and also the end of the school year. I haven’t blogged about it because I didn’t have anything to tell you about it (or couldn’t be arsed to), but these images can stand in for everything I didn’t say.

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The trees grow in front of the church where we always have our end of year ceremony with the students, and when they flower it’s absolute magic.

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Nights in white satin…

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I know ours are later than almost everybody else’s, but that doesn’t take away from the breathless beauty of these apple blossoms.

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Without a particular subject

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Tonight I just had to document the sky. I discovered the spectacle much too late, so I missed most of it, but there were loads of small, golden clouds towering over each other like spangled dollops of clotted cream.

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Never mind finding a subject and an angle, I just had to snap away.

And here, suddenly, this pink calm.

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If you don’t mind travel sickness, here’s a really shaky video of my walk.

The lure of the non-darkness

I can’t help it. When the moon comes out… so do I. I’m not mad. I want to see where it goes.

(The Moth, Catherine Cookson)

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Lord, I was tired last night after a whole day of working in the basement, but when hubby said that there was mist gathering down by the lake, I couldn’t stay inside. I had to document my first bright night of the season.

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It was half past midnight when I left the house, and these images are taken at around 1 am.

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To really capture the drifting tendrils of mist and the bird song, I made a video.

Deserted midnight road to nowhere – or to untold adventures? Maybe they’re the same thing.

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This old house

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I think I’ve only shown you pictures of pretty parts of the house, but believe me, it’s an ongoing battle to make this dump habitable!

Balcony life

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