We've had a fabulous few days with rellies visiting us in deepest darkest Devon. Quoting the delightful Caitlin, aged 8.
Caitlin - "Auntie Marg..." Me - "Yes, darling..." C - "You're weird." Me - "Oh?" C - "In a good way." Me - .....(speechless!)
Bless!
Onto RFWs...
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. To read more wonderful romance clicky here
Here's my First Love in 350 words NCCO (no critique,comments only)
Fedelma stood at the edge of the black lake. As still as an ancient oak, she waited. The water lapped over her feet, freezing and unkind, but she didn't move. Not yet. A night fish plopped some distance away; a tired bough shifted and settled. Woodland scents drifted around her, moving her heart to remember everything about him. A smile rose within her.
She had dis-robed in the forest and now prepared herself for the joining.
She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the full moon, letting the icy light infuse into her mind. 'Robin, my Robin. My first and only love, stolen from me. Know that I am here. Know that I come to you!'
She lifted the silver chain from around her neck and let the pendant swing in the moonlight. The ivy leaf, cast when their love was born, shone with enduring light. Fidelma threw it high into the night and watched it fall, penetrating the surface of the water. The ripples spread like fissures across the surface of an obsidian mirror. She stood still once more, waiting for the water to calm. The blessings of the moon drew peace from the tides and quieted the beating of her heart.
She stepped fully into the lake. The cold, seductive and compelling, enveloped her body, drawing her into a well of darkness. Each step opened more and more memories. Robin's golden body, his kisses, his love for her. Memories of the sunshine years. She imagined she could see his eyes dancing in the water. Laughing kindness. Her skin remembered longing for him, loving in the labyrinth, rolling together in the mysterious spirals. Their souls as one. First promises. She heard his voice rising up from the deep. Words of devotion lifting from the waves.
Tears fell at the memory of the boat with the black sails. The storm heaving the vessel against the rocks. Crushing life.
She felt her heart lose the pulse of love as the water reached her shoulders. The ache of desire frozen in her last breath. Her head slipped below the surface.
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. To read more wonderful romance clicky here
You already know mine will include food....400 words NCCO (no critique, comments only - yes, I'm a wimp)
Ned whistled to himself and watched the sugar and glucose bubble. After forty-odd years as a Master Sugar Boiler, he didn't need the fancy thermometer to tell him when the mixture reached three hundred degrees. He heard the rumble from the copper pot, a soft seductive purr, he knew.
“Charlie!”
Ned was as proud as a father could be watching Charlie march towards him. His son was a dedicated sugar man and Ned's happiness in handing over the reigns of Shapiro's Sweet Emporium made his heart swell. Charlie's lovely wife, Helen, reminded Ned of his own Susie, wrapping the sticks of rock in sparkling cellophane, finishing each end with a tight twist. Ned remembered how Susie's hips gave a enticing wiggle each time she completed the wrap. He had to force his mind back to the task in hand as he and Charlie lifted the huge pot of scorching toffee and poured it over the cooling table.
He left Charlie to divide the toffee into separate hills for the psychedelic colours to be mixed and went to the lettering table. Here he squashed and folded the soft confection that made up the inside of the stick – the magic! This party batch wasn't for the usual corporate do or wedding celebration. This was to surprise his Susie on the day of their retirement. To celebrate a small sweet factory in their seaside town, becoming the successful enterprise it was today.
His beautiful Susie! They had met in the summer of 1967, when she came to work at the factory where he was the apprentice boiler. Ned was smitten from the moment he saw her. Every evening after work, she would release her long straight hair from the hygiene bonnet and paint flowers on her face. She wore dresses who's patterns inspired the rock sticks of the day. Later they used every penny they had buying the place when old Mr Shapiro died. Their sweet dream.
It was Susie who saw the potential in moving into the bespoke business. She designed sticks of rock for local companies and Ned worked his talents in making logos appear down the centres. They were a hit!
Ned handed Susie a stick from his final batch. He held his breath as her eyes shone at the crazy swirls of coloured toffee. She read Ned's words, crafted for the last time. My Rock My Love
Well, it's been a long time since my last haiku and I am happy to be back partaking over at Jenn's blog (click the banner for her own haiku plus many others)
This week's theme is Flare
Flung from our own star Destroying power and voice Peace or anarchy
A bell-bottomed leg Please don't bring this fashion back Not on these short pins!
I had been back in blogland a few short minutes and my wonderful friend Michael Di Gesu awarded me this:
Thank you so much Michael! If you don't know Michael, do pop over to his blog. As well as being an extremely gifted writer, he produces sublime artwork and is the most suportive chum one could wish for. No one is more welcoming.
With this award I'm supposed to divulge seven things about myself. You chaps already know loads of daft facts about me but I will let you in on something I've discovered. A large bowl of dried fruit is currently steeping in brandy ready to make this year's Christmas cake. As well as the brandy (French, don't you know!) over the fruit, I add a good slosh or red vermouth....trust me, it's criminally delish!
I must also pass this award on and I nominate Sarah Pearson of Empty White Pages Sarah's blog is interesting and inspiring - plus she has fabulous taste in music, do check her out.
When I said I'd be back soon, I hadn't expected it to be over two months!....oops! Anyway, this little old Celt is scratching away and feels great to be back in blogland.
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
This week's theme is Fearful Heart - here's my rusty offering in 308 words NCCO
“Sold to bidder 134!” The gavel smacked a final time and Meredith heard the collective outbreath of the crowd sitting in the auction room in New York. She thanked the representative, affirmed his fee for the purchase and finalised the arrangements for the ruby to be collected. It was hers!
The Fearful Heart, an unassuming stone of two carats, cleaved into the shape of romance, had finally surfaced, as Meredith knew it would. She had felt the pull of the heart many times but, like a tide never quite finding the shore, the rhythm had faded and been lost. Her own heart thrashed and tore within her each time the ruby disappeared, punishing her for losing the pulse. Seven thousand nights of terror and pain. Screaming nightmares of unrelenting loss.
Meredith calmed her memories as she recalled the journeys the stone had endured. Locked away in boxes, sometimes steel, sometimes velvet. Set into rings, with gold, with diamonds. Forming the centre of a locket; a tie pin, a brooch. Never staying long. Flung across rooms in anger and betrayal, never belonging.
***************
Meredith held her breath. Her body trembled and the enchantments from her lips quivered through the incense. The ruby lay in the eastern corner of the star and Meredith called upon her ancient sisters. Her whole being filled with joy and desire as she sang the sacred words she had held in her heart for so long.
She closed her eyes and saw no darkness. Ruby mist rose and swirled through her mind. Her heart danced as another voice joined her song. Strong hands held her face, smoothed her tears. Nineteen years of waiting for the heartblood of her true love to be released from the stone. Long years, yearning for him.
The Fearful Heart opened, and there would be no more fear.
I've had to take a break from blogging as I'm currently overwhelmed with other work committments. The work is a Good Thing and I am writing, albeit therapy manuals!
I really hope to grab some time and pop in to see fellow bloggers and I wish you all a fabulous week.
Back soon x
Friday, 1 July 2011
Greetings Everyone!
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
The theme this week is Lies, Lies, Lies! I give you my offering of fibs in 391 words.
'...and forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?'
'I do.' Maeve's voice chimed with joy. David slipped the ring over her slender finger and kissed it, his eyes filled with love.
Her stomach flip-flopped through the remaining vows, anticipating, 'til death do us part. She hoped for a good forty years with this one. David was an exceptional mortal, her fifth from this realm and he melted her heart like no other. She glanced upwards to the church rafters and caught the Green Man winking. Her people were happy with this match.
David's people looked upon her as an eccentric eco-warrior but her gifts of patience, phenominal gardening, good cooking and love for David had won them over. Even his hard-to-please mother had accepted this whispy girl. This whisp was over 400 years old and would bury and mourn their earthly son in time, as she had the others.
Maeve hoped for a child with David. She had only borne one before, a daughter, two-hundred and fourteen years ago. Bluebell was too delicate to reside in the human side of the forest, the pollution too great for many wood spirits and Maeve had taken her back across the divide to save her. In the late 18th century, a missing infant passed virtually unnoticed. Easy lies.
Maeve was eager for the chance to help strengthen her race by birthing a son, even a half mortal could bring a strong elemental life-force and David was a fine specimen. There were few males in her land. That she loved David with the all the power of her world was a delicious bonus. She was prepared for future arranged heartbreak when a blessed babe would...disappear.
The stories came easily. She observed his upbringing and spoke of a similar background. His parents were professionals, a corproate librarian and an architect – hers became lobbyists for alternative energy, engineers for the future. Like Bluebell, they could only exisit for a limited time in the dirty world. Maeve told David and his kind that they 'travelled' extensively – extolling new frontiers in green energy.
Maeve wanted as many truths as possible in her life with David and evaded questions that would place her in a direct lie. She loved him completely and forever – his forever.
Last week, many of you took part in a blogfest where you asked your MC a few questions, covering fears, accomplishments, regrets etc. I didn't take part but read loads of fascinating posts and I felt I learned a great deal.
When I'm creating my own characters, I flesh them out with a birthday (and star sign) a secret and something they collect, as well as all the other attributes we give them - parents (or not) friends, enemies, hobbies....
I've recently read this lovely passage - 'He thought of himself as a person made almost entirely out of weaknesses rather than strengths.' (from Case Histories by Kate Atkinson)...and this got me thinking.
I don't believe I've ever fully asked my character what he/she thinks of themselves. The line above shows an enormous and honest insight into one's own psyche - it speaks of a maturity and acceptance for not just who we are, but who we aren't.
Personally, I tried for years to be the person I thought I should be and was in my 30s when I felt confident enough to accept that the world wouldn't collapse if I accepted and felt happy with the person I really was. A young MC may have a totally different outlook on where they believe they stand in the world. An older MC may have reached an accommodating wisdom that it's perfectly fine to be flawed.
I'm asking ALL my charactars now - 'How do you feel about yourself?' The honesty and wishful thinking is very interesting. I'm gaining resevoirs of information that I hadn't fully explored before.
I'm a novice writer - do you already do this? I would love to hear your thoughts on what your characters believe of themselves........
Necessary travels have put paid to blogging this week but I'll catch up with you all over the weekend. I did, though, cobble this together!
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
This week we look at Love Hurts I'm sure you all remember teenage heartbreak.....
I'm not in love, so don't forget it It's just a silly phase I'm going through...
Even after all these years, Rita winced on hearing the classic song. She had tried to love it, she really had, but it was hard when her body reacted with a physical stab of pain evoking teenage memories from the youth club discos of 1975.
How could that be? She was happy, healthy, comfortably off – yet, long ago lyrics propelled her back into the awkward thirteen year old with a well developed body and under developed confidence. Rita closed her middle-aged eyelids.
His name was Trevor Burdon. A fifth-former with acne, a swagger and a taste for double-denim that today's fashion pages hoot at. Rita imagined the Angel Gabriel to look like Trevor Burdon. Cheeky, but so golden.
Hiding infatuation in those years was impossible. It captured the heart with cruel passion. The early realm of love so terribly real. Hot blushes in the school corridor; dreaming of those eyes, cornflower blue, the laugh with a hint of dirt. Jill Nash saw. Jill, the tall girl, the prettiest girl – the naughty girl.
Saturday night youth club was a popular attraction in Rita's town and she remembered a boy, Ray, was it? A geek before the word exisited, assembling turntables - spinning chart hits and dance favourites. Those who didn't want to play table tennis or five-a-side football, gathered under dim lights and danced. Or rather, as Rita recalled, girls danced while a few boys looked on, occasionally stepping up to talk, to flirt.
Rita wasn't the most adventurous or fashionable of her friends; not like Jill Nash.
The youths were turfed out of the club by ten o'clock and Ray always played a couple of 'slowies' to wind down the evening, giving budding smoochers the opportunity to take that chance or withdraw and gird themselves for the following week. By late Spring of '75, everyone was smooching to that song.
Trevor had noticed her, once. He had called her 'kid' and laughed. She floated.
Her insides chilled when she saw him and Jill, faces together.
“Dance with Rita, she fancies you!”
Her dream....
“I'm not dancing with that!”
Did the world end? No, not the world, but something. A young flame sputtered.
Rita hated that song.
(A true story in 385 words)
For non Brit bloggers - a fifth former at school was 16 years old.
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
This week, Denise is off on fabulous travels, hence the theme Up, Up And Away
Here's mine in 388 words...
Kate and Andrew argued their way along a street banked with identical Georgian terraces.
“Here!” Andrew took her hand, more habit than affection. “Couples Mediation Centre. We're late!”
On the advice of a close friend, Tim, who loved them both, they had accepted their relationship was in trouble. She loved him, he loved her, but somehow in the last year, time together was short and work days were long. They griped, sulked and moaned through their waking hours, then made excuses to turn away from each other through the sleeping ones. She cried with Tim. He cried with Tim. They agreed to counselling.
“Welcome! Phones off please, pick your space.” The etherial woman floated before them, indicating the sunlit floor. Bodies lay in relaxed anticipation, heads here, feet there.
“A group?” Kate hissed. “Not one-on-one mediation?”
Andrew shrugged, resigned. They found a dappled corner and lay down.
Kate turned her head. Andrew's hair flopped away from his frown onto the dusty, wooden floor. She wanted to remember why she loved him. She was tense as she listened to the woman's voice coaxing, guiding the room full of minds. She tried to concentrate. The voice was saying something about a lake; of looking up towards the top of a tall tree. Whatever.
Kate let out a long breath as she opened her wings and let the thermals lift her. Heavenly suspension. London spread away beneath. Avenues curled around parks, traffic wove in labyrinthine splendour. Circles of life and delight. She flew over her home. Their home. An apartment block of matching boxes. Warm spaces of life, ideas and... love.
Her thoughts merged with her shadow on the buldings below. Two shadows. She looked along her wing and met another feathered tip. The touch at once familiar and safe, desire and trust filled her heart. A life complete. Two lives.
...and slowly bring yourselves back into the room.
Kate opened her eyes and felt Andrew's hand in hers. They stood, awkward smiles; back to the present.
Outside, Kate's bag snagged on the door handle and she caught her peaceful reflection in the tarnished brass plaque.
Couples Meditation Centre.
Andrew had seen it too. They looked at one another, ready to fume.
How many crime thrillers contain the near burned-out detective with a dodgy marriage, reliance on a liquid lunch, failure to abide by the rules, yet act on a hunch to catch the criminals and win the day?
I have just read (and thoroughly enjoyed) a Romance containing every stereotype imaginable - the wealthy but emotionally suppressed family versus the poor but wildly passionate one. We have the kindly housekeeper, the understanding cleric and the toddler who warms the cockles of the hardest heart to bring the warring factions together for a double tissue ending. The publisher obviously didn't have a problem with the concept, it's selling well and, although I had the tale pegged from chapter one, I loved it!
Our hearts beat furiously and hammer in our chests; our stomachs flutter; our nipples pebble (oh yes they do!) Clouds scud and boil, we roar with laughter and smile coquettishly....phrases like these appear over and over again.
What to do?
As an aspiring Romance author, I want my characters to experience all of the above (yes, even the nipple thing) and I go to great descriptive lengths to convey emotions without my reader groaning, 'yeah, yeah....'
A noob, two sci-fi/fantasy writers and a literary/real/YA fiction writer. We did not lack conversation!
Note - not a smidge of alcohol between us! (psst, it was wine o'clock when the Bensons got home!) It's great to meet up with fellow writers and those we know through the Blogosphere.
Every week a group of us, brought together by the awesome talents of Denise at L'Aussie Writing and Francine at Romancing The Blog provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read more romantic pieces and come and join us if you fancy writing in the Romance genre.
This week we have....
Beth stood, silent and still in the crowd as Alex crouched on the green, lining up his shot. He straightened up, towering over the ball. The putter swung a few inches and a muted clop sent the ball on a sweeping journey towards the hole. Four seconds of agony, Beth's fingernails piercing her palms..... it was in!
Alex was engulfed in an exuberant embrace from his partner, Bernie and accepted sporting handshakes from the losing duo. Beth lost sight of him momentarily as the crowd pressed closer to witness the presentation of the club cup. Then, there he was, running towards her, lifting her off her feet and burying kisses into her neck. She looked up at her husband, handsome and tanned in his scarlet golf shirt. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
Beth was delighted. For once she had remembered everything Alex needed for the match. The spare putter, the umbrella – both had been left behind on previous competition days. She had even forgotten to leave a casserole cooking once and, when Bernie and his wife arrived for a post match dinner, they had been served an impromptu take-away.
“My scrumptious scatterbrain.” Alex called her.
He kissed the top of her head. “Just have to do the indoor photos in front of the plaque, darling. If you get the car, I'll meet you round the front.”
Beth followed the line of cars leaving the club. She pressed the switch to open the window and pulled down the visor, blocking out the low evening sun. That morning she had prepared Shepherd's Pie with the leek and cheddar topping Alex loved so it only had to heat in the oven. She had trimmed fresh runner beans, ready to steam. She smiled as she drove under the canopy of trees in Summer leaf.
Her neighbour waved as she turned into the driveway. He wore baggy shorts and a bright red shirt, similar to her husband's. Beth gasped! Alex! She crunched the gears into reverse almost ramming a silver car pulling in behind. Alex climbed out and waved off a laughing Bernie. Beth sat in shock, her hands clasped to her mouth. Alex opened the door and drew her to him. He shook his head. “As long as you never forget how much I love you!” He laughed.
From a wild, windy and rain-lashed corner of Britain, I've been thinking about one of the aspects I adore about writing. Naming characters!
My notebook is full of first names, surnames, pet's names - gathered from all kinds of influences. Shakespeare is a welcome source (I have Miranda, Orlando and Ophelia) as are place and road names (Fitzpaine, Violetta Bungalow, Headley Chase) I've even named two villians from Blogger's word verification! In a short story Romance, I used the names of two beloved, late rellies. Their spirit living on somehow.
Something that I've found oddly therapeutic, is naming a rotter after a real person in my life. I don't consider myself particularly vindictive but I've found a couple of old ghosts well and truly exorcised. A former very close friend betrayed my family most cruelly and the hurt lingered for a long time. She actually has a very pretty name so I kept her first name and gave her a slightly comic surname, which means 'greedy' in Old English. She has a small role in my NaNo novel and I ended up treating the character quite sympathetically. An interesting exercise in archetypes and providing a DIY in Jungian therapy!
I'd love to hear your own naming dilemmas and experiences. What infuences you when you name your characters?
Every week a group of us provides a story, poem or an excerpt up to 400 words on a chosen theme. Do click on the badge to read the awesome work from some amazing Romance bods. Do come and join us if you enjoy writing in the romance genre.
This week's theme is I Remember
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
He held the door for me and I felt the faintest brush from his hand in the small of my back.
“You look....” We laughed together, embarrassed.
“Great”
“Lovely.”
The table was close to the fireplace, an ancient structure of misshapen stones surrounding a cavern. Vibrant flowers in a copper pot filled the space. I smiled as the waiter fluttered the damask napkin over my lap. My lips quivered, the muscles of my mouth betraying.
“I haven't been here since..”
“Neither have I.”
I watched as he stroked the side of his wine glass. The tattoo on his thumb, which mirrored the one on my ankle, had lost it's vibrancy. Our symbol now a bruise, a shadow.
Two embossed leather binders shut off our view of one another. The mass of culinary information, like a thesis! Which one of us had said that? Then the sleek red-covered one, for the wine. We would have the Chianti, we always did. Meat, fish or pasta, it was forever the Chianti. His hand hovered over the book before looking up at me. Of course. He smiled.
His eyes were brown but held a richness like a chestnut, as if another element had been added. At times they looked pale; chocolate and smoke. Kind. His hair only reached his shoulders now, not the middle of his back. Silver threads enhanced rather than aged. Was it contrived abandon? Probably not. Vanity wasn't a vice he recognised.
He reached across the table and took my hand and I squeezed his in return. I saw his gaze fall on my ringless fingers then swiftly move to my face. My soul. I held my breath, anticipating the ache in my heart, or was it simply the memory of expectation? Dull, dampness of pain had gripped my being for so long, a grim companion by my side.
Firstly I want to thank the wonderful Francine and Denise (L'Aussie) for awarding me this week's featured writer badge on Romantic Friday Writers. I am thrilled to have this as the standard of writing and quality of work from the RFWs is high indeed. I am excited to be meeting new friends in this genre and, if I haven't followed you yet, it's beacause Blogger is stil being a what-not! I'm on my way :-)
I have only been writing for seven months (baptism by NaNoWriMo!) and go through much agonising before putting my work out there. I adore writing and I'm learning something every day from you guys. Research
I am having a terrific time researching my latest work. My heroine is the head chef on a luxury yacht and I've been perusing and daydreaming about such awesome boats. I have contacted a couple of owner/charter companies for information and have been really touched by their enthusiasm and helpfulness - of course it would be lovely to be invited onto one.....as yet no offers!
Have you found research to be rewarding and fun? Do you find the expertise you require given generously?
Here we are with another Romantic Friday Writers do. This is the brainchild of Francine Howarth and L'Aussie where we write between 300-400 words on a given theme. This week is Glitz and Glamour and I've had a ball writing delicious decadence. So grab your Jimmy Choos, your Armani and a cocktail.....
Queenie D'Arbanville floated on her back, gently sculling. The coolness of the pool wrapped around her, soothing and relaxing her body and mind after the marathon that was last night's award ceremony. Dipping her head back , she luxuriated in the soft massage the scented water gave her scalp. The statuette for Best Actress dazzled in the sunshine, sending golden flashes across Queenie's Carrara marble pool steps.
After her swim, she'd indulge in a croissant, maybe two. With the awards season over, Queenie let her stomach muscles relax and looked forward to a few weeks respite from Hollywood starvation. She and Caleb left for their cottage in Wales this evening and she couldn't wait to live as Mr and Mrs Jones in that damp, windswept corner of the country. Caleb would work on his screenplay and together they would walk the miles and miles of unspoilt coastline.
Queenie adored their life here, a blessed variety of red carpet indulgence and carefully orchestrated privacy. If she laughed with the public and smiled at photographers she avoided those cursed 'Caught without make-up!' horror pictures the press was so fond of. The cottage, though, with her brooding Welsh writer, the temperamental Aga, the heavy, grey skies was how she counted her success.
Queenie's next role required an American accent again and she had already hired the dialogue teacher who had coached her through her award-winning part. “Our own LA Cockney!” Chat show hosts chimed. She wasn't a Cockney at all, the dropped vowels were pure Essex, but she was happy with the better known association and with a name like Queenie, her own, the image of East End pearly royalty was complete.
A tall shadow snatched the sun from her upturned face and Queenie looked at the silhouette of her husband. He stood still and silent, his hands behind his back. “My Dragon!” She cried. “My Queen!” He returned. She swam towards him and was met with his passionate kisses. “I picked up a little something for the trip. Close your eyes and hold your hands out.” Queenie did as she was told and felt velvet in her palms. “Open!” Cascades of diamonds and rubies glittered and sparkled. Twinkling drops shimmered around a central stone of fire. A tiara so heavenly, like a world of stars in her hands. “Thought it would go with your hiking boots.” “And perfect for the pool!” Her arms reached up and pulled him in.
Aren't they too scrumptious to be true? Written in a damp and windswept Devon in 414 words - hey, the bling required the extra words!
Do read the other glamorous offerings by clicking the piccie. Have a great Friday x
PS: Edited to ask where have my followers gone? Is Blogger holding them somewhere?
Way too much 'Other' going on this week,so haven't been around as much as I'd like. I am trying to visit as many of you as poss! Welcome to my new followers....this blog doesn't have a schedule (one day...one day!) but I hope you enjoy visiting.
I'll be here tomorrow with Romantic Friday Writers, so do tune in.
The wonderful Francine Howarth at Romancing The Blog has tagged me - a different set of questions from last week:
Do you think you're hot? Noooo.....just cool :-) (Honestly, I'm neither!)
Upload a picture or wallpaper you're using at the moment.
For my latest WIP....sweet, eh?
When was the last time you ate chicken meat? Last night - I made a marinade of honey, sherry, garam masala and herbs.
The song you listened to recently. ZZ Top - Sharp Dressed Man - it's on the radio right now.
What were you thinking as you wrote this? Following on from the song, remembering seeing ZZ Top in concert - excellent!
Do you have nicknames, what are they? Tiggy from Beatrix Potter's Mrs Tiggywinkle.
Thank you for all the comments on my 'Pronounciation' post - great discussion. Now another thought....
I have just finished a big fat epic, kind of fantasy. Now, I didn't know when I started that it was the first of several. The tale has a cast of hundreds and many, many storylines. Much of the writing is very good with stunning descriptions BUT... not one storyline is completed at the end of book one! NOT ONE! I feel I've sat through a marathon of soap operas (very little happiness for anyone)and that the writer has left me dangling mid season. I'm furious! Surely in any series of books, the writer owes the reader something per book, otherwise it's not really finished, is it?
I read this on Kindle so didn't sneak a peak at the 'Coming next' at the back of the book.
Am I expecting too much? I really do feel cheated - I'd love your thoughts on this.
Welcome to our 2nd Romantic Friday Writers, a new meme devised by L'Aussie and Francine Howarth. Each week we submit some work (excerpt, flash fiction, poetry etc) around a chosen theme, coming in under 400 words.
This week's theme is Lost and I have to say the Muse stayed resolutely silent until the 11th hour. I struggled with this one but eventually this flash piece materialised.....at 376 words.
Lost
A sigh rippled through Alan's body as the ventilator was switched off, releasing him from his broken physical self. He watched as the tubing and machinery were disconnected and wheeled away. He looked at his partly shaved head, his swollen face, bruised hands and thought he looked quite the rugged hero, actually. A doctor was talking to Tash.
“ He's in no pain, Mrs Marshall. His body will shut down over the next few hours and...”
“I'll lose him.” She finished.
And when did I lose you, Tash?
Alan looked at his pretty wife. Waves of love flowed from him and settled around her heart. He wondered if she could feel him there. She was holding one of his hands, stroking it with her thumb. Under the thumb, eh? Alan laughed and felt himself expand to the edges the room. His senses filled with glorious sensations. His whole being smelled grass and beer, every pore heard classic rock music, every hair squealing devotion from his boyhood puppies. He was standing on a road. Still. No tunnel? He had no need to turn to be able to see all around. Tall trees, their tops lost in mist, led away like an avenue of sentinels. Had it rained? Water dripped from leaf to leaf, slow tears. The mist engulfed him.
When did dissatifaction set in, Tash? Was it after meeting skinny, rich Jayne in Pilates?
Alan couldn't pin a time to the changes. Tash ate less, exercised more, lost her soft curves. Her strawberry waves became a shimmering sheet of pale honey. The tapestry bag he had bought her in Thailand was replaced by something called Prada. Then she started on him. His hair wasn't right, she bought him gel. She moaned about his jeans, his motorbike.
Doctors had cut away his jeans and his bike was crushed.
I was selling it, Tash. There's a holiday in St Barts bookmarked on my computer. Wasn't that where you wanted to go? To be seen?
I wanted a baby, you wanted botox.
He imagined the conversation with her brittle friend. “How awful for you, a widow at twenty-nine but look how thin you are!”
Let go love.
The mist lifted. Alan absorbed divine warmth and walked home.
Do click on the piccie to read everyone else's inspiring romantic work.
I am currently reading a fantasy novel full of names that are weird, wonderful, fitting and downright peculiar! The people sound vaguely Welsh/Celt and the locations are mystical and a touch Middle Earth.
Now, I 'know' how these should sound in my head, but does the author have other ideas? When you create a character or place, are you particular about how YOU want the name to sound? Do you sneak in phonetics?
When I was a child I knew a Hermione. So when the Harry Potters were published I simply thought it was nice to see a pretty unusual name have such prominence. When the films came out, many people exclaimed they assumed she was HERMY-OWN. That's how they 'heard' the name in their heads.
So, do you make sure the reader knows your pronounciation, or do you let them discover their own?
Many thanks to the wonderful Madeleine Maddocks at Scribble and Edit for tagging me! All I have to do is answer a few questions and Tag another three bloggers.
1. If you could go back in time and re-live a moment, what would it be? MrB's proposal!
2. If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be? Well, things are what they are but I would love my parents to still be around.
3. What movie/TV character do you most resemble in personality? Shirley MacLaine - I'm a former dancer with a keen interest in the paranormal and an irascible old broad!
4: If you could push one person off a cliff and get away with it, who would it be? I'm a passivist of Gandhi proportions, I couldn't do it.
5. Name one habit that you want to change in yourself? OTT contingency planning
6. Describe yourself in one word. Short
7. Describe the person who named you in this meme in one word. Superbwordsmith
8. Why do you blog? Answer in one sentence. For inspiration, knowledge and friendship.
9. Name three people to send this meme to and inform them. I receive tremendous support and advice from fellow bloggers and followers and I'd like to tag Lisa and Margo because I'm pretty sure they awarded me pretties just as as I was having to leave my blog for a while and Dorothy is a new writing chum who produces awesome stuff.
So, there you go! I have another post looming on a writing matter but I'll pop it up tomorrow as two contrasting subjecst in one post is too much for little me!
Here we are for the first Romantic Friday Writers, a wonderful idea from L'Aussie (Denise) and Francine Howarth. I had no Blogger yesterday so had a frustrating time waiting to post! I am working part of today and will read everyone's work over today and tomorrow. I'm so excitied to be a part of this. We are submitting work to a theme each week and it can be Flash Fiction, an excerpt from WIP, poetry...whatever as long as it's Romance and under 400 words.
This week's theme is Dire Moment.
My excerpt is from a very new, just forming idea, where Miranda is the head chef on a luxury yacht owned by Xavier Clichy. They are cruising the Western Mediterranean and Miranda has met and fallen in love with Xavier's nephew, Sol. Then.........
The voices sounded far away, sounds lost to the whispering slaps of water against the side of the boat. Miranda raised her head from the deck, pulling sticky strands of hair from the wooden grooves of the floor. Her ear throbbed and her cheek stung where she had been struck. The taste of sweet lemons in her mouth, so delicious earlier in the evening, now brought a chilly nausea rising from her stomach as she took deep breaths to halt the sickness she felt was sure to follow. Forcing herself to stand, she clung to a leather bar stool and fixed her gaze on the calligraphy of the yacht's name etched into the seat as dizziness threatened to swamp her senses.
The air was warm but her teeth chattered and her body shook as the chill of terror took over. She rubbed her frozen arms, feeling goosepimples prickle under the touch. A group of five or six people surrounded a prone figure. They had their backs to her and hadn't seen her stagger to her feet. Their voices were muted to Miranda's ears, the vicious pounding blocked out any clarity. She glimpsed a single white shoe, not Xavier! Please, not Xavier! Her breath caught in her throat as the group shifted enough for her to see her boss lying motionless, his linen suit spattered with stains, which Miranda prayed wasn't blood. Needles of pain pierced her head as she searched for Sol. She dreaded finding him laid out like his uncle. One of the group spotted her and alerted the others. Miranda swayed – they were armed! She counted five men and one woman. The woman was tall and muscular and the smirk she gave chilled Miranda to her core. The menace hesitated. Miranda sensed a presence behind her and turned. The agony in her head was excrutiating and she put out a hand to stop herself falling. Another hand caught her. She looked into the eyes she loved, the face that had lain close to hers only hours before. Sol! Here! Holding her. She melted into his arms. Those arms propelled her into the waiting mob. Rough bodies grabbed her as she stumbled. Her body slumped as the horror of her situation dawned. Sol, the man she loved more than anything glared at her with a gaze so cold she shuddered. He raised a gun, “Lose her!”
As I said VERY new and I have condensed to meet 400 words - I have, though, had a wonderful time researching Super Yachts! This is an story I wish to develop.
Do click on the picture above to read the other posts and I will be dropping in and catching up all weekend.
It's been too long, I know - and thank you so much for your kind messages regarding the absence of MrB and myself. The two sickly loved-ones are making great recoveries (one miraculously!) and our frantic to-ing and fro-ing should ease up a little.
Whilst I was away, I'm aware that I was given a couple of awards. I'm afraid that I was so stressed and vacant, I didn't fully note or acknowledge them and for that, I truly apologise. Awards are very special and I am grateful indeed to be the recipient of someone's thoughtfulness.
I am desperate to resume my writing and will start, tout de suite, with today's book blurb, courtesy of the lovely Lisa at Writing In The Buff where she posts a picture representing a book and everyone writes a blurb in 150 words or less. Fiction, Non-Fiction etc, whatever genre you feel goes with the piccie.
Here is my (rusty) entry. Do pop over to Lisa's and check out the others.
The Albion Falls
Meredith Lloyd has no room in her busy life for romance. As the leading light in bespoke landscape water features, her services are in demand. From film stars to footballers, her unique designs are world renowned.
When commissioned to create a tranquil lagoon for reclusive writer, Benedict Byrne, Meredith assembles her team and materials as she would for any other creation. Mr Byrne, though, has specific reasons for using only the unusual crystalline stones in his new garden design and Meredith is soon mesmerised by the effects of water cascading over the twinkling rocks.
What magic lies within the stones and will Meredith's ambitious heart be softened when she works closely with the charismatic author?
It's so good to be back....I've missed you all very much. Have a fabulous Friday! x
Is it me, or are the weeks coming around ever faster? Still, Fridays are great fun as it's the book blurb thanks to the wonderful Lisa at Writing In The Buff where she posts a picture represting a book and everyone writes a blurb in 150 words or less. Fiction, Non-Fiction etc, whatever genre you feel goes with the piccie.
Forgive me this week as the Muse of Daftness came to visit.....
Ancient Songs, Dances and Traditions from the English Countryside
Dr. Stephen 'Skip' Hoppe
The definitive guide to the rich culture and folklore from some of the darkest corners of England.
Enjoy the Medieval farming song 'Ere, Be That Yer Bull In My Field?' A rustic duet, culminating in the two singers punching each other in the eye; the rural lullaby, 'Throw Her In The Cow Pat' and the classic drinking song, where all forty-nine verses contain just the single word...'Beer'.
Follow rituals including, Burn the Squire, the Springtime festival of Child Rolling and learn how to Wurzel Waltz like a local.
You'll never want to leave the countryside after reading this book!
Do check out the other entries by clicking on the Lisa's link above.
Today is the day for the Harry Potter Blogfest hosted by the fabulous Michael at In Time The rules are:
"It's quite simple. All you have to do is choose which two characters would be YOUR best mates at Hogwarts. You can use any student characters from any book."
I had to think hard about this - the rules say 'student characters' which I have done - however I also think that as I am over 40 (!) I may also be chums with professors, such as Aurora Sinistra (Astronomy) and the awesome Professor Sprout (Herbology) and I also have a soft spot for Filius Fltwick, Charms Professor, as my Mum taught Warwick Davies (the actor who plays him in the films) when he was but an Ewok in Star Wars. I digress...here's my entry:
I come from a family of chaotic nutters, so I would feel right at home with the Weasleys and the Lovegoods. I'm a girly girl so, even though I'd get on with some of the boys, my two best chums would be Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Ginny would keep any unwanted attention at bay with her famous bat-bogey hexes. Luna scares folk with tales of Nargles and my own magic would be food related – I'd pass on my Singing Cheese Puffs: delicious and light Cheddar squeezes, which imbue the muncher with the voice of either a soprano or barritone for at least twenty minutes. We'd be a trio to be reckoned with; homework would be in on time with pretty good marks and we'd all adore Neville Longbottom. I'd fly my broomstick for fun as opposed to competitive Ginny, and Luna and I would support her with all our might. Ginny and I would perform a forked approach with spells with more flair than harm on those who steal Luna's shoes each term. I'd enjoy sleepovers especially at the Weasleys as I have a little crush on older brother Charlie.
So there it is - I think I'd live somewhere just off Diagon Alley, who wouldn't? (I was born in a London Borough) and would grow up to be something in the Ministry of Magic Food. Do check out the other entries by clicking on Michael's link above.
Other...
Blogging and commenting is a little erratic for the time being as we have family needs and concerns right now. I do read as many posts as possible - please bear with me, I'll be back to a 'normal' blogging regime asap. Thank you for your patience and indulgence.
Apologies for going AWOL this week, especially after all your generous comments for my 200 followers (lost one, gained one...but hey!) and Crusade challenge, wasn't that a hoot? The B houesehold is in upheaval (in a good but madly upheavable way) and I am flummoxed as to how it's Friday AGAIN!!
Anyhoooo....for this week's book blurb, curtesy of Lisa Ricard Claro of Writing In The Buff Every Thursday evening she posts a picture representing the cover of a book. In 150 words or less (the length of the average book blurb) you write the blurb that you think belongs on the back of the book. You create the story, decide the genre, fiction or non, etc.
Here's mine, I've attempted my own genre this week - do pop in to the other entries, it's amazing to read everyone's take on just one piccie (clicky Lisa's link above)
Suite Surrender
Hotelier Carrie Fitzpaine is in trouble. Her dreams of owning the luxury hotel with husband Hugh are in ruins after he ruthlessly betrays her. The costly refurbishment has taken every last penny and if the Summer visitors don't arrive soon, Carrie will have to close the doors of Bertram Beeches.
Her new cocktail bar manager, Jack 'Gin' Staple, has a plan that he believes will save the both the hotel and Carrie's fortunes. Can the pair of them pull it off? Or is Jack's outrageous idea purely mixing her business with his pleasure?
Word count 98 including title
So, would you buy the book, send chocolates....or simply vomit? I may have to write this one! Did you notice my homage to Agatha Christie?
I PROMISE to catch up somewhat over the weekend :-) Lovely Yous x
Edited to add..Hmmm...not sure how this posted when it was still Thurs but I'll blame sunspots...full moon...David Cameron....
Thank you all so much for dropping by, commenting and following...we've done it and hit 200....yippeee!!
I loved reading everyone's first lines, some I knew, some I have popped on my TBR list and some were also my favourites. We had everything covered from Dickens to Qwilleran and I thank you all so much for participating. I put all your names into random.org and out came....Michael Di Gesu at In Time as the winner! Congratulations Michael, the books will be winging their way to you pronto!
MrB is also hosting a 200 follower giveaway of a couple of excellent reads, so do drop in to Fireside Park and say hello over there.
Now for the 2nd Crusade challenge....
Write a flash fiction story (in any format) in 100 words or less, excluding the title. Begin the story with the words, “The goldfish bowl teetered” These four words will be included in the word count.
If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional, and not part of the judging criteria), see if you can write the story in your own genre (eg if you’re a horror writer, write a horror story; a romance writer, a romance story, etc).
I've attempted to stay in my Romance genre for this one - do check out the other entries at Rach Writes
The goldfish bowl teetered for a moment as Adrian's overcoat brushed the delicate hall table. His hands shot out to steady both the mock Chippendale and ornament, he laughed when they were stable once more. He looked down at the crudely painted green glass with the copper foil depiction of Pisces; two anatomically impossible marine creatures coupled, if one chose to look closely, in an act Adrian didn't believe fish capable of. He loathed the ghastly gift but Miranda loved it – and he loved her.
Crumbs! Is it only Monday?....We're decorating and we've already had pussycat paws in the white gloss windowsill :-)
So to this week's Book Blurb courtesy of Lisa Ricard Claro of Writing In The Buff. Every Thursday evening she posts a picture representing the cover of a book. In 150 words or less (the length of the average book blurb) you write the blurb that you think belongs on the back of the book. You create the story, decide the genre, fiction or non, etc. I am SO enjoying this meme.
Bar Bar Bijou
Twelve tales revolving around the exclusive nightclub in the heart of London's Mayfair; where no newspaper reporter has ever been granted entry. Celebrities, models, politicians and royals enjoy VIP treatment, secret assignations and the club's famous Bijou Blaster cocktails.
We meet Viscount Bosworth, middle-aged playboy, attempting to make money from his royal name. Dame Violetta Bungalow, the club's outrageous MC and choreographer of the all male Delicious Ducks dance troupe. The mysterious Leela Blue, a shy waitress who isn't all she seems and many more colourful and complex characters, whose lives are entwined with those of the notorious club. Overseeing his phenominal enterprise is the elusive Mr Zedepe, the black-gloved, rarely seen owner of Bar Bar Bijou.
Word count 110
The lovely Lynn at Present Letters has awarded me this fabulous award - isn't it gorgeous? I shall 'do' the tasks and the passing on next week but I wanted to say a huge Thank You! 200 Followers Giveaway
Don't forget my great giveaway of two fun novels when I reach the magic number, which is creeping ever closer. I'd be chuffed to pieces if any of you wish to give it a shout out on your own blogs :-) Please pop HERE for the full post and info. There are some wonderful entries so far...
Open honesty Within the planes of pure thought Forever truthful
Japan is in my mind with this one:
Unbreachable fort Shattered by nature's fury The planet in fear
Do clicky the banner to read the other entries over at Jenn's blog.
I'm almost at 200 followers! Thank you all so much for the support, encouragement and comments. I had a giveaway planned for 100 but with the Crusade and a couple of blogfests, the numbers shot up so quickly that I missed the landmark in a flurry of new friends - I'm thrilled to pieces!
To say thank you, I'd like to giveaway a couple of brand new copies of books that I adore.
Chloë by Freya North is my 'go to' read when I'm feeling down or ill. The blurb says:
When Chloë Cadwallader's beloved godmother Jocelyn dies, she leaves Chloë a letter instructing her to give up her job (lousy) and her boyfriend (awful) to travel the four countries of the United Kingdom during the four seasons of the year. As the seasons unfold, so too does Chloë's journey. From Abergavenny to St Ives, from the Giant's Causeway to the shores of Loch Lomond, join her as she discovers love, lust, life - and a man for each season.
Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen is delightful and enchanting. The blurb:
Welcome to Bascom, North Carolina, where it seems that everyone has a story to tell about the Waverley women. The house that’s been in the family for generations, the walled garden that mysteriously blooms year round, the rumours of dangerous loves and tragic passions. Every Waverley woman is somehow touched by magic.
Claire has always clung to the Waverleys’ roots, tending the enchanted soil in the family garden from which she makes her sought-after delicacies – famed and feared for their curious effects. She has everything she thinks she needs – until one day she waked to find a stranger has moved in next door and a vine of ivy has crept into her garden . . .
Claire’s carefully tended life is about to run gloriously out of control.
I love both of these stories and hope you will too! All you have to do to win them is:
1 Follow this blog 2 Post in the comments box your favourite opening line of any book.
That's all! I'm excited to read all your favourite first lines and to share them here. I shall draw a name with random.org when I reach the magic 200 and will ship anywhere.
Feel free to spread the word on your own blogs :-)
Finally...
I am very happy to have received this award from none other than my beloved MrB, Tony Benson at Fireside Park. We rarely visit each other's blogs as that would be twee in the extreme! We are, though, best friends and love sharing our writing hours together with our two cats.
I know you will all be with me in continuing to send all hope to Japan and those caught up in the terrible events of the weekend.
Dawn Embers at It's in the Book is hosting this blogfest from today until the 15th March. She says, "Show us the wretched emotions, the anger, depression, fear, whatever happens after the happy honeymooon lovey-dove V-day stuff is over and all that is left is a broken heart."
Here's mine:
Athena held her breath; the paper thin, romantic shape before her, so fragile, so brittle, slipped next to the forty-seven identical royal icing forms layered millimetre to millimetre, like a military manouvre. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Only three more to place. This masterpiece was her most ambitious yet. Deep red, slashed with gold leaf – is it a monogram? Or something, as Athena hoped, more subtle, classy - after all, less is more.
Fifty sugared perfections were waiting with expectation on glossy protective paper, befitting their status as the stars of the exhibit. Athena spoke gently as number forty-eight tilted exactly where she had dreamed. Her silver tongs reached for forty-nine.
Her mind drifted to the celebrity couple who would be photographed smiling, decorative blade in place, making their wishes in return for a million pounds. A spokeswoman had chosen the design. Would they even know, or care, that inside was a real cake? South American cocoa, brandy soaked fruit, organic, of course. Athena tried to envisage the skeletal diva licking flakes of golden chocolate from those enhanced lips.
Snap!
Athena swallowed. She felt a prickling in her armpits and a gauze over her vision. No! She swayed. No! The tongs held the evidence, two parts held only by the squeezing of her hand on the metal. No time – number forty-nine, both halves dropped into postion. Athena slotted the jagged edges together. Almost invisible...what else? She reached for number fifty, perfect. Or could she just make out the hairline fissure beneath? A wave of couverture sprinkles made the design more haphazard than she had wanted, but Athena was saved.
The media exploded with the demise of the glittering marriage six months later. Her heart was broken, she said.
I almost wrote of my teenage heartbreak when Trevor Burden didn't want to dance with me, but you guys know that any food related writing wins the day! Do pop over and check out the other entries.
How did it get to be Friday already? I had so much planned for my blog this week....ah, well!
So to this week's Book Blurb courtesy of Lisa Ricard Claro of Writing In The Buff. Every Thursday evening she posts a picture representing the cover of a book. In 150 words or less (the length of the average book blurb) you write the blurb that you think belongs on the back of the book. You create the story, decide the genre, fiction or non, etc.
The Field of the Four Winds
When Lady Elizabeth Fotheringay – Fairfax is thrown from her horse, her family's tenant farmer, the mysterious Martin Bellbrook comes to her rescue. His refined manners and gentle voice inspire Lady Elizabeth's curiousity and she intends to find out more about the handsome neighbour.
Her suspicions grow after she visits his farm with a token of thanks and sees him striding toward the spinney on his land. Thinking she will catch up with him in the sunny meadow beyond, she is alarmed to hear him shouting in a strange tongue, seemingly to no-one.
The discovery plunges Lady Elizabeth into a world far removed from her own 18th Century upringing and she has only the resources of her sheltered life to help her. Word count 122
Do join me in reading the other entries and seeing all the different takes on the picture, which, by the way, is taken by Lisa's talented daughter, Christina.
I am so thrilled to receive this gorgeous award from Michael Di Gesu at In Time. Michael, you a wonderful blogger chum and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
The theme this week is Hope. Just click the banner to pop over to Jenn's blog and read the other entries.
A new parent's wish In a world full of turmoil Long, peaceful living.
First romantic dates Hope over expectation Will he be the one?
Waving a big Hello to you all. Welcome to my new followers - I promise to nip over to your blogs asap. It's a busy time right now with non-writing life.....and it's only Wednesday!
First of all, thank you so much for all the kind comments on my first guest posting over with Charity Bradford at My Inner Journey and Rosie Connolly at East For Green Eyes. There was a little time blip but I hope you managed to find me! You are all gloriously kind. Now....Book Blurb Friday
Every Thursday evening I'll post a photo that we'll pretend is the cover of a book. In 150 words or less (length of the average book blurb) write the blurb that you think belongs on the back of the book. You create the story, decide the genre, fiction or non, etc.
So, for today...
Seven Days
Mimi is the beloved feline companion of Fenhanna of Chilraith. When Fenhanna accidently uncovers the secrets of the library of Raith-Tor the sinister Bitulet holds her in a suspension enchantment.
Before Fenhanna's mind is locked away she casts a powerful spell changing Mimi into a woman in the hope that she can find Linguaro the legendary master of words, the only one who can save her and the future of language.
Mimi has to adjust to living as a human and is thrust into a dangerous world of distrust, magic and terror. She has to rely on all her cunning and charm to save her lifelong friend. There is no time to lose, the spell only lasts for seven days..... Word count 122
Do go and check out the other entries by clicking Lisa's link above. That was fun!
Today I am guest posting about short stories over with Charity Bradford at My Inner Journey which will be linked to Rosie Connolly at East For Green Eyes so do pop over if you can, it'll be lovely to see you there. Charity is on EST for all of you visiting from the UK.
Now the Haiku:
The theme this week is Fantasy Do click the banner to read the other entries over at Jenn's blog.
In my childhood dreams Loving David Cassidy Winning an Oscar
Mythical pathways Leading towards fairyland Home of my Mother
Elves in my garden Brave dragons in the woodland Jewelled raven wings
Lisa Ricard Claro at Writing In The Buff has a great new meme starting this Friday, 4th March. She says:
Every Thursday evening I'll post a photo that we'll pretend is the cover of a book. In 150 words or less (length of the average book blurb) write the blurb that you think belongs on the back of the book. You create the story, decide the genre, fiction or non, etc.
Sounds fun! Here's a taster for this coming Friday.
I'm feeling super stylish as I and other crusaders sharing groups with Deniz Bevan have been awarded The Stylish Blogger Award....yay! Thank you, thank you!
Finally (phew!) I'm both thrilled and flummoxed to be a finalist in the #1 Crusader challenge!
Summer Ross Savannah Chase Charlotte McClain Liz Fichera Kerrin hearfield Nas Dean Hope Welsh Alyssa Fox L'Aussie Denise Gina Blechman Deniz
I'm excited to be in such great company and can't wait to know you all better. We're going to have a blast during this Crusade.
The wonderful L'Aussie Denise has made this heavenly badge for us Romance bods
Isn't it gorgeous? Do grab it and display on your blogs. An advance notice - I'm guest posting about short stories on Wednesday over with Charity Bradford at My Writing Journey. The post will also appear with Rosie Connolly at East For Green Eyes I'd love to see you there!
