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:
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| Buy here |
Or you can go to my webpage which is a lot more interesting
than my blog:
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| Visit my Webpage |
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| Or my BWL Author page |
