Books We Love Insider Blog: I’m not a good blogger

Does anyone else out there have the same problem? I’m always in awe of the folk who find something interesting to say on their blog every day. I know, I’m a writer so therefore should be able to write about anything. But finding things to write about on my blog comes hard to me. Ask me to write a piece of fiction, a full length novel or short story, and I have no trouble whatsoever.

I don’t lead a vastly exciting life, so perhaps that has something to do with it. But others probably lead just as uninteresting lives, yet can make the most mundane happening sound unusual. I have no children so unfortunately have no grandchildren to tell you about. I have my two dogs but people would soon tire of hearing me waffling on about their antics, as most folk who possess dogs have just as many funny stories or disasters of their own that to hear about what my two get up to would probably sound dull in comparison. The many funny animal videos on the net prove that. I have thousands of pictures of my pets, past and present and have a few of these on my Pinterest page.

I dislike cooking so have no delicious recipes to write about. My evening meal is usually decided on at about 5pm when I am ready to switch my computer off for the day and start to think about what I fancy for my dinner. Living alone has some advantages as well as disadvantages. I have to admit that one of the things that took me quite some time to get used to when I first married was finding something interesting to cook for my husband each day. I ended up not a bad cook but when your efforts are compared, as a young bride, to your mother in law’s cooking it can be disheartening. But don’t feel sorry for me, my husband was not a cruel man just one who had been spoilt. My steak and kidney pie was deemed, “Tasty, but the pastry could have been crumblier,” or similar. I didn’t bake a meat pie for quite a few years after my first humble tries. My hubby loved my Yorkshire pudding though which always turned out a success and sometimes rose so high that it was hard to get it out of the oven. I excelled at toad in the hole, which for those who are not English and have no idea what I am talking about, is sausages within the same batter as Yorkshire pudding.

One of my early short stories is called, ‘The Meat Ball’ and was inspired by a true event in our lives. My mother-in law made really tasty meat balls and showed me how it was done. She was one of these really slow and precise cooks who stood there every moment and watched over whatever she was preparing. Well, she gave me the recipe and directions which I followed to the letter. But, impatient as always, I must have tried to hasten the process, for when the finished product was put in front of my husband, as he tried to cut into one it was so hard that it bounced off his plate and onto the floor. We kept one of those meatballs as a souvenir and it even came to Australia with us and moved from place to place until we were able to buy our own home. It sat in a small bowl on a shelf for a few years and one day as I was dusting I noticed it was gone. I calculated it was probably about fifteen years old by then. We surmised that one of our dogs must have found it and as it was as hard as rock decided it was a bone that had to be buried. We never saw it again. As a footnote to this story, I did learn to make decent meat balls (rissoles? burgers?) in later years.

My problem was that our mother didn’t really want us messing about in the kitchen while she was preparing our meals. That probably had something to do with the fact that I was the youngest of ten and she was likely better off in the kitchen alone, as she served up meals to so many plates. One thing I did love, was to be allowed to have the first slice off the roast meat as she cut it (I was the spoiled baby). There were five of us daughters and three of the others turned out to be excellent cooks. I still don’t know how as they were not allowed in the kitchen often either. Our mother’s recipes were all in her head. She never used scales, but knew exactly how much of the ingredients to put into the bowl. She liked to make cupcakes, and if they turned out perhaps not as soft as they should then they became her special ‘rock cakes’. I am practically a vegetarian now. I say, practically, as I sometimes eat meat when I am dining out, but never buy red meat for myself.

I like to potter about in my small garden and love my plants, but I am no expert so chances of me writing about that are out of the question. I do volunteer work which takes up what spare time I do have, but could not possibly write about some of the disabled clients I help with their computers. I don’t seem to have a lot of time left in my day to read as I used to. I read before dropping off to sleep at night and often only get to about four pages before I nod off. I envy people who can speed read as I have never been able to read quickly. If I am enjoying a book and find the author’s style great then I stop to savor the words and often read a paragraph that has appealed to me over again which slows me down considerably.

In the days before my passion became writing I painted for a while, but it was my sister who became a skilled artist, while I went on to write. That same sister also became very musical and could play her keyboard with expertise. I unfortunately can play no instrument at all and thought I could sing a little—but that was before I made a family video some years ago, and when I heard the playback of me singing along with my sister’s playing, vowed never to sing in company again. And sadly was also asked never to sing on tape again.

So, there you have it, my blog posts are few and far between for a very good reason. The only subject I have to write about is my books. And on that subject here is my latest release from Books We Love: