Sunday, May 10, 2015
Magical Birthday Wishes by Cheryl Wright
I recently discovered a new technique for colouring backgrounds. It's very quick and easy, and is done using shaving brushes!
To try this technique, I went to my local $2 shop and bought a couple of brushes. The above card was my first attempt, and as you can see, the pink came out a little streaky. I have since come to discover you need a very light hand when doing this technique. Subsequent cards were much better.
This was an extremely quick and simple card to make, and after this one, I ended up making four more. All five will be going to Combat Cards in the very near future.
This card uses the following stamps:
Greeting: Gina K Designs (from a very old set)
Stars: Star Cluster by Lavinia Stamps
Main image: Mushrooms from Stamp-It Australia
I hope you've enjoyed this card. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time!
Links:
My website: www.cheryl-wright.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cherylwrightauthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/writercheryl
BWL website: http://bookswelove.net/authors/wright-cheryl/
Multi-published author, Cheryl Wright, former secretary, debt collector, account manager, writing instructor, and shopping tour hostess, loves reading. She writes romantic suspense, contemporary romance, and the occasional comedy.
She lives in Melbourne, Australia, and is married with two adult children and has six grandchildren. When she’s not writing, she can be found in her craft room making greeting cards.
Friday, May 8, 2015
I remember Mom
She was always there. All my life, no matter whether things were bad or good. Mom was always there. I'm one of the lucky ones, mom lived to be 94 and I guess I just got used to her listening to me. Sometimes I'd tell her the same thing over and over again, working through my pain, my disappointment, or celebrating some triumph that only mom could understand just how much it mattered.
Mom at my home in Kansas City with my girls and my brother's two boys, taken shortly before my husband died. I moved then, and moved again, and again, through it all mom was always there. She was there for my girls and she was there for me. Mom kept me going; it didn't matter how crazy my life got, mom was there.
A different life, another daughter, growing girls, and smiling faces, Mom was there, and when I left and went back to the youngest girl's father, mom was there. And when it fell apart again, mom was there. And when he died, she was there then too
Another life, girls all grown, and finally someone for me to trust mom loved that, loved my husband and the way the three of us shared our lives together. For 23 years that never changed, the three of us together. We shared so much, the three of us, the years came and went, in the fall she'd fly off to my brother's and while she was there we'd talk on the phone and she'd tell us about all the fun she was having in the sunshine, and in the spring she'd come back and life would pick right back up where it left off in the fall. Mom was always there - there when I cried and there when I laughed, always there was mom.
A daughter, so beautful, so full of life and laughter, so much love - it hurts so much, so much pain and so many tears, so much loss. Mom was there, always mom was there, she was there at birth when I said hello and she was there at death when I said goodbye. Always mom was there.
Then there was this, seemed like maybe my time was over - triple negative - the worst kind, lump the size of a golf ball, but mom was there. Always there was mom, she was there to listen to me and cry with me and laugh with me, always mom was there. And when I beat it all, and we went back to being us and I survived, mom was there, always mom was there.
The years kept going by and finally she was 94. Where did they go. She was weakening, we knew she was, but none of us want that, we didn't want the change. Mom knew time was growing short, and of course I knew, but she knew I didn't want to know and we pretended. She didn't want to eat, but I'd cook soup and bake biscuits and tempt her and she'd eat. She didn't want to, we both knew she didn't but she would, just because I made them for her. I'll never forget the last words she ever said to me. I'd made her soup and she didn't want to eat, and I left the room. I was hurt, and she knew it because I hated it when she didn't eat -- it made what was coming seem so close. That night, I went back in the room to see if she was ready for bed and she held up her bowl. "I ate it all," she said and showed me her empty bowl.
I hugged her, and helped her into bed. She'd taken the mild sleeping pill the doctor had prescribed for her and she was already falling asleep. I propped her up on the pillows and smoothed her hair. She was already asleep.
I miss you mom, so much. Love Judy
Mom at my home in Kansas City with my girls and my brother's two boys, taken shortly before my husband died. I moved then, and moved again, and again, through it all mom was always there. She was there for my girls and she was there for me. Mom kept me going; it didn't matter how crazy my life got, mom was there.
A different life, another daughter, growing girls, and smiling faces, Mom was there, and when I left and went back to the youngest girl's father, mom was there. And when it fell apart again, mom was there. And when he died, she was there then too
Another life, girls all grown, and finally someone for me to trust mom loved that, loved my husband and the way the three of us shared our lives together. For 23 years that never changed, the three of us together. We shared so much, the three of us, the years came and went, in the fall she'd fly off to my brother's and while she was there we'd talk on the phone and she'd tell us about all the fun she was having in the sunshine, and in the spring she'd come back and life would pick right back up where it left off in the fall. Mom was always there - there when I cried and there when I laughed, always there was mom.
A daughter, so beautful, so full of life and laughter, so much love - it hurts so much, so much pain and so many tears, so much loss. Mom was there, always mom was there, she was there at birth when I said hello and she was there at death when I said goodbye. Always mom was there.
Then there was this, seemed like maybe my time was over - triple negative - the worst kind, lump the size of a golf ball, but mom was there. Always there was mom, she was there to listen to me and cry with me and laugh with me, always mom was there. And when I beat it all, and we went back to being us and I survived, mom was there, always mom was there.
The years kept going by and finally she was 94. Where did they go. She was weakening, we knew she was, but none of us want that, we didn't want the change. Mom knew time was growing short, and of course I knew, but she knew I didn't want to know and we pretended. She didn't want to eat, but I'd cook soup and bake biscuits and tempt her and she'd eat. She didn't want to, we both knew she didn't but she would, just because I made them for her. I'll never forget the last words she ever said to me. I'd made her soup and she didn't want to eat, and I left the room. I was hurt, and she knew it because I hated it when she didn't eat -- it made what was coming seem so close. That night, I went back in the room to see if she was ready for bed and she held up her bowl. "I ate it all," she said and showed me her empty bowl.
I hugged her, and helped her into bed. She'd taken the mild sleeping pill the doctor had prescribed for her and she was already falling asleep. I propped her up on the pillows and smoothed her hair. She was already asleep.
I miss you mom, so much. Love Judy
Thursday, May 7, 2015
We've got Cows! By Tia Dani
Whenever we work at a restaurant, it means we're usually
creating a new book.
Beginning a new story, always fires us up, however, sanity also rears its annoying pointy head and sniffs, "Where
are you going to start?"
Since our stories are generally character driven, we
first like to know our characters inside and out. We talk about who they are
and what they specifically want. Once we've got their names and backgrounds, flaws,
and why they are driven, then we work on where we're going with the story.
Actually sometimes a plot line will come to us
first, but that's a topic for another blog later on. (Has anyone picked up we're always saving things for other blogs?)
Back to brainstorming. Our second step is who opens
the story in their point of view? Normally we gear our books toward the romance
genre (Dani's strong point), so we usually start with the heroine. Sometimes
the hero will protest and win the argument. We're really not gender driven.
But here's where it gets tricky. Once we know the
characters, know the underlying plot, we have to add flesh and blood to the
story…the stuff that not only draws readers avidly into the book, but ourselves
as well.
We rely on our handy dandy writing class rule. Every
scene needs three parts:
1. Goal. What
does the character want? CHECK. DONE THAT.
2. Conflict.
A series of difficulties characters must face on the way to reaching their goal.
CHECK…WAIT! HOLD ON…We're not exactly there yet.
Several minutes (actually hours) of discussion, heavy
research, and some wine, maybe a lot of wine, one of us (usually Tia) yells, "We
got cows!"
Imagine in the restaurant the looks we get are quite comical. "Cows? What cows?" Several people look around nervously. "Where?"
We grin at everyone and explain we're co-authors, Tia Dani, and Tia's yell, "We've got cows." is an expression for seeing difficulties (like in the movie where cows fly in the middle of a tornado.) Some nod and say, "I see." Others…look confused then go back to eating.
Now onto Rule Three:
The Ultimate Disaster. What keeps characters from reaching their goals?
By this time Tia is jumping up and down, waving her hands at a bunch of unseen
cows in her mind. (Remember how she loves
a great disaster.) Even Dani can't help but get drawn into the excitement.
She has her own cows. With rapid-fire description, she embellishes great love
scenes to go along with Tia's disaster(s).
By this time we have new people around us and we have
to explain all over again.
But the really funny thing is, our waitress, who's
gotten to know us quite well, strolls by and says with a grin, "Katie, bar
the barn door. Tia Dani has their cows!"
This is how we look by the time we've finished brainstorming a book.
© Graphixparanoid | Dreamstime.com - Mad Cow Photo
cow photos by @ElisaLocci/DreamstimeStockPhoto
To find out more about the writing team Tia Dani and our books visit us at:
http://bookswelove.com/authors/tia-dani/
https://tiadaniauthor.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/tiadani.author
This is how we look by the time we've finished brainstorming a book.
© Graphixparanoid | Dreamstime.com - Mad Cow Photo
cow photos by @ElisaLocci/DreamstimeStockPhoto
To find out more about the writing team Tia Dani and our books visit us at:
https://tiadaniauthor.wordpress.com/
https://www.facebook.com/tiadani.author
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Did My Kid Just SAY That? by Gail Roughton
You never know what’s coming out of a child’s mouth next. That’s one of the perks of having kids. They can embarrass you one minute, have you in stitches laughing the next, and occasionally, leave you open-mouthed and slack-jawed in sheer amazement.
All my
kids have done it to me at one time or another and my grandchildren do it to me
now. But the family did she just say what
I think she said prize goes to my daughter, Rebecca. She was eight at the
time, leaning back against the bathtub and savoring the feel of the hot water. Bath
time was one-on-one time, hard to come by in a family of three children and two
working parents, and I’d learned to grab it with each child whenever the
opportunity arose. Sometimes we’d just talk, sometimes I’d read to them. I don’t
know who looked forward to bath time more, me or them.
On this
particular evening, I remember I had a book in my hand. It was a rather special
one, at least to me. An edition of Tales of
Uncle Remus I’d had since I was twelve or so myself, purchased at the Uncle
Remus Museum in Eatonton, Georgia, home-stomping ground of the author, Joel
Chandler Harris, and the oral folklore that gave birth to the Uncle Remus stories. Okay, I was a nerd
even at twelve when computers weren’t even thought of, I’ve never denied it. We’d
been reading a story or two every night for a week or so. But Brer Rabbit wasn’t
on my child’s agenda that night.
She sat
straight up, fixed me with the amber eyes so large and gorgeous they’ve made
strangers stop and stare since birth and asked me, “Mama, are we ever born
again?”
Not a question
Mama was expecting, I’ll tell you that. I wracked my brain for its possible
source. Maybe she’d caught a telecast of a Church service on television? A talk
show, maybe? Or heard a radio show I wasn’t aware of?
“You
mean like — are we born again when we die and go to Heaven?”
“No, no,
no!!!” Her hand slapped the water. “I
mean when we die, are we ever born again, here, on earth? In another body?”
Eight, I thought to myself. She’s EIGHT! Where the heck is this coming
from?! I wasn’t so startled I didn’t recognize this as the most basic description
of reincarnation I’d ever heard, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out
why she’d have thought of it. I fell back on the best child-rearing advice I’d
ever gotten. No, not from my mother, or aunt, or mother-in-law, or best friend.
From Atticus Finch of To Kill A
Mockingbird. That fictional single parent and his major guideline of child-rearing got me through a lot while raising
my kids, especially Rebecca, to-wit: When a child asks you a question, you tell
them the truth. They don’t necessarily have to understand exactly what you’re
saying, they just have to know you’re telling them the truth. Because they’ll know if you’re lying to them.
So I
gathered my wits about me and took a deep breath. “Well, that is, in fact, what
many of the world’s religions believe, yes. That when you die you’re born again
in another body.”
“But
what do you believe?”
Great. Couldn’t
avoid that, could I? “I believe it’s a probability it’s a possibility, yes.” I
haven’t spent my entire adult professional life in a law office for nothing. “Becca,
what on earth made you think of this in the first place?”
“I don’t
know, I was on the playground the other day and it just seemed like I’d been
there before, done the same things before, just in another body.”
Ah! De’ja vu, I thought. I was, in fact,
rather relieved. A strange phenomenon, to be sure, but one pretty much
everybody’d experienced at some time or another. I should have left well enough
alone. But of course I didn’t. I just had to ask. “Well, then—who were you?” I
mean, she was eight, of course she’d
say, “A rock star.” “An Indian maiden.” “Cinderella”. Maybe even “An Alien
Princess”. Something exotic,
something dear to the imagination of childhood. Nope. Something utterly, completely, down-to-earth. Something realistic, and assuming that any universal recycling program called reincarnation does exist, completely possible. “I don’t know," she said slowly. "But I was black and had a lot of pigtails.”
From nowhere,
I remembered my mother laughing about the stories one of my older brother told
when he was small. Stories about “a long time ago when I was an old man.” So
let the academics and professors and religious leaders debate all they want. I’ve
never looked at reincarnation the same way since. I never will. Nor will I ever
forget that night when out of the mouth of a babe came that beautifully basic
and elemental description of such an extremely complicated and controversial belief,
stripped right down to its barest element. You know what they say about the sensitivity of children and animals. They know things. Things we don't. Or possibly...things we used to know but have forgotten?
Besides,
I’m a writer. I’ve told you before—we never waste anything. We just recycle it
into these things we call novels. Like my War-N-Wit,
Inc. novellas. Wherein my heroine Ariel Anson Garrett wasn’t so sure about that thing
known as reincarnation either. And boy, was she in for a surprise!
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Labels:
books we love,
Children,
Gail Roughton,
humor,
reincarnation,
War-N-Wit Inc.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
What movie would you watch again and again? By Jamie Hill
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Anyone on Facebook has seen the status game: "Name a movie you've watched over and over again". I can think of several, mostly they're ones that are being shown on TV. When I channel surf I'll stop to watch parts, if not all. Sister Act I and II were playing a couple weeks ago on Saturday and Sunday, and I watched parts of both of them again. We never miss a showing of Jaws, Pretty Woman, parts of Titanic and probably the favorite in our house, Jurassic Park. Our consensus is that the first movie was best, the second was so-so, and the third was pretty good, better than the second. I liked Sam Neill's character better than Jeff Goldblum's, and was tickled that they included him and Laura Dern in the third.
A while back word came out of a fourth Jurassic Park movie called Jurassic World. Chris Pratt is an up and coming Hollywood actor and seems to fit the leading character role just fine. From the little I've seen from the previews, it looks like there's a mother who allows her two sons to go alone to the Jurassic World theme park which is finally open. (Excuse me, didn't she watch any of the movies?)
Anyway, June 12 is just around the corner and although we don't go to the theater to see many movies, my family will be making a trip to watch this one on the big screen. Absolutely can't wait!
I got to wondering if this theory also applies to books. Is there a book you'd read again and again? I have a few that I've saved and reread over time. Go Ask Alice is one that I can start reading and will sit there until I've finished the whole darn thing. I'll reread parts of The Horse Whisperer. But generally, my reading time is short enough as it is, and my 'to be read' pile is too large to reread books when there are so many new and interesting ones out there.
I must admit, when I open my own books to grab an excerpt or something like that, often I'll get caught up reading and will follow thorough to the end. When I finish I get that happy feeling that readers get when they close a book, only it's multiplied when you're also the author of said book. That's one of the most amazing feelings there is.
If you're in the mood to reread, or perhaps read for the first time, some hot cop romantic suspense, why not start with book one of my series, A Cop in the Family? Jack and Crystal remain close to my heart to this day. Enough so that I wrote two more books which included them, so readers could see where they ended up.
I just love happy endings! (And watching dinosaur movies from the comfort of my chair.)
Find Family Secrets and my other titles at Amazon and other book sellers, also available in paperback by request at a bookstore near you.
Family Secrets: http://amzn.com/B004478IN6
Jamie Hill's website: http://www.jamiehill.biz/
Jamie's Publisher, Books We Love: http://bookswelove.net/authors/hill-jamie/
Monday, May 4, 2015
17th Century Recipes by Katherine Pym
http://amzn.com/B00I6KOKL6 |
From the book: Samuel Pepys' Penny Merriments, Being a Collection of
Chapbooks, full of Histories, Jests, Magic, Amorous Tales of Courtship,
Marriage and Infidelity, Accounts of Rogues and Fools, together with Comments
on the Times. Selected and Edited by Roger Thompson of the University of
East Anglia at Norwich, 1977.
Merchantman being attacked by Pirates |
Whew, what a mouthful. Our titles these days are much shorter, with less syllables, easier to remember. To remember this, I simply refer to it as: Penny Merriments, a tome I found in a used bookstore and considered it a great find. It has all sorts of wonderful information, like recipes to make one beautiful, or a recipe for the newest way to roast a hare. It sends me right back into the era of my choice...
17th century England started out with traders going to
far distant shores, but the cost was extensive. Spices were gathered through
the Levant Company (owned by noblemen and gentlemen of quality) and the
fledgling East India Company. As the century moved forward, their ships went to
places already taken by the Spanish and Portuguese.
First Anglo/Dutch War |
The Dutch East India Company (VOC) began at about the same time as England's, but they weren't hampered by the religious upheaval and civil wars England endured during the first half of the century. The Dutch VOC had a leg up on English merchant shipping until Cromwell decided enough was enough and went to war with The Netherlands. This is known as the First Anglo/Dutch war (1652-54), and fought entirely at sea. This war were over trade, who could monopolize which ports in the East and West Indies.
With that said, the recipes below show an inordinate
amount of spices, which were very costly. During the reign of King James I, a
fight to near death took place between VOC and English Merchantman in the South
Seas that decimated the nutmeg crops on Pulo Run Island, in the Banda
archipelago. A once rich source of nutmeg, it never fully recovered.
Citrus fruits, dates, pepper, cotton cloth, and other
fruits and spices were trekked across the desert sands to ports the Levant held
in the Mediterranean, then imported via ship to London. Once these commodities
hit the London markets, they proved costly for the middling English household.
Fleet of East Indiamen at Sea |
"To Roast a
shoulder of mutton with Oysters the best way. Take one not too fat nor too lean, open it in divers
places, stuff your oysters in with a little chopt pennyroyal (mint or basil),
baste it with butter and claret wine, then serve it up with grated nutmeg,
yolks of eggs, ginger, cinnamon, butter and red wine vinegar."
"To Stew a Leg of Lamb the best way.
"The Art of
Beautifying the Hands, Neck, Breast and Face: Harmless and Approved, with other
Rare Curiosities.
To make the hands arms white, clear and smooth. Take a
quarter of a pound of sweet almonds, blanch and bruise them, with a quarter of
a pint of oil of roses, and the like quantity of betony-water (plant of the
mint family): heat them over a gentle fire; and then press out the liquid part,
and it will serve for either hands or face anointed therewith."
"To take away
Freckles, Morphew (scurfy skin) or sunburn.
Steep a piece of copper in the juice of lemon till it be
dissolved (the juice), and anoint the place with a feather morning and evening,
washing it off with white wine." (Not sure how that one worked.)
"To take off
any scurf from the hands and face.
Take water of tartar, that is, such wherein calcined
(burnt to a powder) tartar has been infused, anoint the place, and wash it as
the former (with white wine)."
"To sweeten
the Breath, and preserve the Teeth and Gums.
Boil a handful of juniper berries, a handful of sage, and
an ounce of carraway seeds in a quart of white wine, til a third part be
consumed: strain it and wash your mouth with it morning and evening, suffering
a small quantity to pass down: you may whiten the teeth by rubbing them with
pumice stone."
So... who wants to try one of these recipes and let me
know how it works? I'd especially like to know the results of whitening your
teeth with pumice stone. Or should I do a disclaimer? Don’t do this at home!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many thanks to wikicommons for the pictures:
This file is
licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share
Alike 3.0 Unported license, &
Roger Thompson, Samuel Pepys' Penny Merriments, Being a Collection of Chapbooks, full of Histories, Jests, Magic, Amorous Tales of Courtship, Marriage and Infidelity, Accounts of Rogues and Fools, together with Comments on the Times. Selected and Edited by of the University of East Anglia at Norwich, 1977.
Labels:
17th Century,
1st Anglo-Dutch War,
East India Company,
Health & Beauty,
Pirates,
The Levant Company
Author of historical novels set in 1660's London with one novel of the French Revolution.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
A Great Sense of Humor...
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I believe it was Tommy Cooper, British prop comedian and magician, who once said "Always leave them laughing." Personally, I love to laugh and enjoy novels that make me laugh, think, and truly enjoy the time I spend absorbed in their pages. If you were to catch a glimpse into my house, my kids and I are always bantering jokes back and forth. My middle son usually wins - until his younger brother pipes up with a one-liner that stops us all cold and everyone ends up too busy laughing to come up with more jokes.
In every novel I have written, I always use humor to keep the tone light and the story flowing along when things are getting tense. This is a scene from The Bakery Lady that puts a little levity in the first meeting between Leo Blue and Christina Davidson:
Leo moved toward the
table for a better look, standing as close to Christina as he dared. She
smelled as sweet and spicy as her desserts. He should move away before he said
or did anything stupid. “Those look good.”
“I
hope you’re talking about the cookies.” She scowled. “They’ll look even better
after they’re baked.”
He
grinned, sitting on a nearby stool. “I hope we’re still talking about the
cookies.”
Humor keeps a good mystery from getting too dark,especially in the case of a cozy mystery. Even if it's just from that one character who is the foil for the serious detective. The sidekick who becomes a beloved character in his own right. Leo Blue started off has the entertaining sidekick in The Bookstore Lady, then took over until I had to feature him in The Bakery Lady. People seemed to love is quick wit.
Tonight I'm blessed with a houseful of laughter thanks to my youngest son's sleepover birthday party and a houseful of chatty teenagers. I'm bound to find fodder for another book in all the nonsense as they clown around. While not everyone may love a clown, who doesn't love a good chuckle now and then?
Keep Smiling!
Diane Bator
Wild Blue Mysteries:
The Bookstore Lady
The Mystery Lady
The Bakery Lady
Tonight I'm blessed with a houseful of laughter thanks to my youngest son's sleepover birthday party and a houseful of chatty teenagers. I'm bound to find fodder for another book in all the nonsense as they clown around. While not everyone may love a clown, who doesn't love a good chuckle now and then?
Keep Smiling!
Diane Bator
Wild Blue Mysteries:
The Bookstore Lady
The Mystery Lady
The Bakery Lady
Labels:
cozy mystery,
humor,
jokes,
The Bakery Lady,
Tommy Cooper
Prolific author, Editor, Associate Publisher, and Book Coach. Also mom of three grown ups and two fur babies.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
DE-CLUTTERING - TO DO OR NOT TO DO - MARGARET TANNER
For a short time only, 99cents/99pence - Kindle Countdown Deal.
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THE PERILS OF NOT DE-CLUTTERING – MARGARET TANNER
I am a clutter collector from way back. I figure why throw
anything out; you never know when you might need it. I inherited the hoarder
gene.
“Waste not, want not” was my mother’s motto and she lived by
it the whole of her life. Maybe it was because she lived through the great
depression of the 1930’s and World War 2, that she would use and re-use, save
and squirrel away stuff. Our house was never untidy, because most of the
hoarded items were well out of sight.
I should have learned my lesson after my dear mother died
about 20 years ago and my sister and I had to clear out her house. To say it
was a nightmare was an understatement. It took weeks. My mother had kept
receipts from the 1940’s, even her World War 2 ration book. And speaking of
books, she had hundreds of them. Then there were the ornaments, pretty little
knick-knacks that reposed on every shelf or level surface in the house. Boxes
of china. Well, you get the idea.
Now you would think that after all this trauma and angst, I
would have dashed home and gone through my own cupboards. I didn’t, but I did take a lot of my mother’s
stuff with me. Well, how could I let it
go? All those little treasures.
My mother-in-law passed away, same story, I kept a lot of
her things too. I was a hoarder. It came
as naturally as breathing or eating.
Well friends, retribution did come. The youngest of our sons
finally left home, so hubby and I decided it was time to downsize. We bought a
smaller house, and put our larger house on the market. “We’ve got a lot of
stuff here, we’ll have to get rid of it,” hubby says.
Over my dead body.
“No, we won’t do anything rash,” I said. “There’s plenty of time to work out
what we want to keep.”
A week before the auction of our house, my husband had to
have heart by-pass surgery, so I had to go on with the sale alone. After the
auction and hubby’s successful operation, I had to start packing, because when
he came home he couldn’t do anything for eight weeks. I really hit the panic
button because we had a short settlement. Forty days to clear out all our
stuff, that of my mother and mother-in-law (things I had kept, and shouldn’t
have). Well, it was a nightmare. I did most of it on my own. I don’t know how many trips I made to donate
all these “treasures” to the second hand thrift shop And I did help the less fortunate - big
time. The thrift shop manager must have
thought I was Mother Teresa re-incarnated.
It was terrible. I cried because I had to give away my ‘treasures,
mum’s treasures and my mother in-law’s treasures’. Worse still, was the time it
took to pack them and deliver them to the thrift shop.
With the clock ticking, I had to be ruthless – and I was.
If you are even contemplating moving house, start to get rid
of your surplus stuff early. In fact,
don’t collect it in the first place. A
lady once told me that if she didn’t wear a dress for a year, she was probably
never going to wear it again, and she got rid of it. Smart lady. Wish I had
such courage. I still cling to my
favourite dresses, hey I might lose weight and they will fit me again???
The moral of this story is - don’t hoard. De-clutter as much as possible,
because one day you will have to sort
it out, or your children will have to
sort it out.
The same goes for your writing. Be ruthless. If the manuscript you have expended
blood, sweat and tears over isn’t working, discard it. Temporarily cast it into your bottom drawer
is what I mean. Don’t destroy it, because you might be able to resurrect it at
a later date. Start on something fresh
and new. Once you get your writing tastebuds tingling again with a new premise,
a feisty heroine and a spunky hero, the words will start flowing until they
become a torrent.
Never give up. It is a steep climb to the top of the
publishing mountain, but oh what a view once you get there.
Margaret Tanner writes spicy historical romance set in Australia .
FALSELY ACCUSED
1820’s England.
Robbed of his birthright and falsely accused of murder, American Jake Smith, is
exiled to the penal colony of Australia.
I am an award winning multi-published Australian author. I love delving into the pages of history as I carry out research for my historical romance novels. I pride myself on being historically correct. Many of my novels are inspired by true events, with one being written around the hardships and triumphs of my pioneering ancestors in frontier Australia. Outside of my family and friends, writing is my passion.
Friday, May 1, 2015
IT'S MY FUNERAL, AND I'LL DO WHAT I WANT by Shirley Martin
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(Avador is on Amazon Countdown for a couple more days, don't miss your chance to buy this 5 book set for only $1.99)
Americans are living longer and healthier lives. Sixty is the new forty, and eighty is the new sixty. Still, by the time you reach your golden years, you should start planning for the time you will no longer exist on this earthly plane.
Many churches, and I suppose synagogues, too, conduct classes in funeral planning. My own church provides a form in which you can name the Biblical passages you want read and the hymns you want sung for your funeral service. After all, you wouldn't want to attend your funeral and hear the congregation sing hymns that are not among your favorites. On the church form, I've requested two of my favorites: "Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore" and "Here I Am, Lord."
The Bible contains many beautiful and memorable passages. Besides the Twenty-third Psalm, The Book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter Three, is among my favorites: "To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose unto the heaven...." From the New Testament, I especially like the Book of Revlation, Chapter Twenty-one: "...and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying...."
On a more practial level, you should consult a reputable lawyer and hire him/her to draw up a will. Be specific, so that there is no disagreement over who gets what. Name an executor and make sure he/she knows where all of your important papers are, such as your insurance papers and aforesaid will.
I even wrote my own obituary. All my sons have to do is fill in the blanks.
Funeral customs have differed among cultures and throughout the centuries. Think of the ancient Egyptian pharoah. His whole life centered around his death. Workers slaved for years for the construction of the pyramid that would house his prized possessions. It's obvious that the ancient Egyptians believed in an afterlife, one in which they could enjoy all of the objects that meant so much to them in their mortal lives.
The ancient Celts, too, believed in an afterlife. They were frequently buried with their personal effects, such as clothes, jewelry, and even food. Belief in an afterlife was an important aspect of the Celtic religion, although they apparently had no conception of reward or punishment after death. They also believed that butterflies housed the souls of their loved ones who had passed on.
For most Americans, a death in the family is a time of solemnity and grief. Not so with the Celts. For them, death was a time of joy, for the soul was returning to its home.
In parts of Indonesia, funerals are lively affairs that involve the whole village. These festivals can last anywhere from days to weeks. Families save up to provide lavish funerals where a sacrificial buffalo will carry the deceased to the afterlife. Until that time, which can take place years after physical death, the dead relative is laid in a special room in the family home and referred to as "one who is sick" or "one who is asleep."
Many Buddhists of Mongolia and Tibet belive that the soul moves on after death,while the body becomes an empty vessel. To return it to the earth, the body is chopped into pieces and placed on a mountaintop, which exposes it to the elements. This practice has been done for thousands of years and is still done today.
Especially in the West, more and more people are opting for cremation instead of burial for the simple reason that we are running out of space for caskets.
If Michael Crichton, author of "The Great Train Robbery" is to be believed, the Victorians placed a bell in the casket of the deceased, in case the "deceased" was still alive. That way, he/she could let the family know that the time for burial had not yet arrived. This isn't as far-fetched as it may seem. No doubt we have all read about a person being pronounced dead, a sheet thrown over him and taken to the morgue, only to throw off the sheet and sit up, scaring the bejeebies out of anyone who happens to be there.
Shirley Martin enjoys writing in different genres. If you like historical, paranormal, or fantasy novels, you have many of my romance novels to choose from. I have three books in print: The time travel romance, "Dream Weaver", and two fantasy romances, "Night Secrets" and "Night Shadows." Look for my books at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
htp://bookswelove.net/authors/martin-shirley
I was born and raised near Pittsburgh. Married for 44 years, now a widow.
I write historical, paranormal, and fantasy. . You can order my books from amazon.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Where the blue blazes did THAT come from? by Stuart R. West
Wish I had a good answer.
Usually, when asked this, I end up looking like Bambi at the barrel-end of a shotgun. I stare, stammer, try to be witty. Stomp my hooves for a bit. But honestly? No clue.
I suppose I look at it as gathering my supper at a salad bar. I pick and pull and consider various leafy plot ideas, pile them on the plate of my mind, garnish them with what I hope is tasty style, top it off with a heaping dollop of personality. My dressing of preference is humor, heart, and horror. Steaming hot jalapenos of plot twists really set it off. I know, I know, it's an unlikely combination of flavors, but hey! It tastes great at the time, even if it burns when it leaves.
Finally, I let my palate of imagination hunger for the best. I demand shrimp. I know it's hidden away in the refrigerator of my mind somewhere.
Not good enough an answer?
Okay. Most of my books start with an image that strikes me. Out of the blue. Then I take it from there. For instance, I turned bored men sitting on the "husband bench" at the mall into a serial killer thriller/black comedy. I came up with a question, what might these men REALLY be doing there? They certainly didn't have many shopping bags nestled between their stretched out legs.
But what do I know?
Think I'll print this off, keep it in my pocket. Because, as I said, whenever anyone asks me where I get my ideas? I freeze, anything interesting or amusing completely gone the way of the leisure suit. This'll be my "get outta jail card."
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