Merry Christmas and may 2025 be as interesting as 2024 but in a nicer way...

 Merry Christmas one and all. 

I'm not going to lie, 2024 has been a challenging year but then, haven't they all? There have been some real highs and some spectacular lows. 

I set up Filmmakers United CIC and Envisage International Film Festival which is already receiving lots of film submissions, and I have realised a tonne of things, both metaphorical and actual. I've watched some amazing films whilst hosting the Stratford on Avon Film Festival and the Birmingham Horror Film Festival and I've been nothing but impressed by the standard of the films and documentaries. 

Now that I'm watching and rating the submissions that are pouring in for Envisage International Film Festival, I'm humbled by the talent I see around me, so much so that recently whilst watching a much acclaimed film on TV by a globally-known director, I ended up comparing the new films to that older one. 

The acting in the old film is still phenomenal but everything else has suffered the curse of the passage of time. The dialogue was dated, the camera skills clunky and it was too heavy in close-up "dramatic shots". But more damning was the attitude and concept of the film which centred around the fact that a man had been imprisoned for rape but - and get this -  it was most likely wrongful imprisonment because the prosecuting lawyer "had buried" the fact that the "girl was promiscuous". Sorry, what? 

I'm not going to delve into societal changes which are now reflected on our screens - that's a whole different conversation. My point is that line would never have been written in a modern film - and the world is a better place for that shift. And yet I am jarred by the realisation that I have found myself emotionally back where I was in my twenties, striving forward, desperate to change the world for the better, but this time filled with less hope and more acknowledgement that I am but a minute speck in the universe. 

Recently having had Covid for the umpteenth time I missed a social event I was due to attend and afterwards I was told I was missed. I think the surprise on my face showed. I can't imagine anyone missed me at all. And yet this year has brought great validation for my work from both my peers and from those much more established and higher up the industry ladder than I. 

My little animation got five film festival nominations, one of which was from the Royal Television Society no less, and I have genuinely lost count of the amount of people who told me they were touched by it. TV commissioners have gone out of their way to tell me how much they love my scripts and people I have worked with have given genuine praise and  congratulations. I've been told over and over that I'm a joy to work with and that my work deserves success and yet I feel like a coiled spring inside. 

All my life I've aimed to make the world a better, kinder place. I've rescued animals, I've volunteered for charities, I've done a tonne of stuff that might have impacted one or two lives for the better, but never really made a huge difference anywhere. My plan remains to use the profits from my various companies to do the job better. But there is still so much cruelty everywhere. I turn on the news and am bombarded with sickening images and stories. Instagram and social media in general is a scroll through cruelty interspersed with vacuous people sharing pointless posts. 

I spent two days this week trying to find the owners of a very ill cat I'd found before it got put to sleep; I rescued lots of pigeons and birds which didn't make it and my soul aches with the seeming futility of it all. And then yesterday I saw the most beautiful, lush fox in my garden, and I was reminded that there is still so much beauty in the world. So much to still keep fighting for. 

Next year I shall be launching several new books and have a lot of exciting news to announce so until then I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and New Year. But if you are like me and not currently filled with the joys of the season, just remember you're not alone in feeling more than a little blue. 

Until 2025... x 

 

The Crown Series 4...

Let me start by saying that I'm not a huge fan of period drama. I watched quite a bit of it when I was in my teens and the choice of TV viewing was limited to what broadcasters decided to transmit, so up until now I have only dipped in and out of series 1-3 of The Crown. But Series 4 came with the promise of a period of history I actually knew about first-hand. I had lived though it, so my curiosity was aroused. I'd seen the sumptuousness of previous episodes of the show and the stellar performances of the cast in a variety of other roles so my expectations were high.

Any dramatisation of real events is made by merging the representation of the facts and the interpretation of them by the writer, the director and the producers. So in order not to be swayed in my judgement of the series by my memories of that time, I watched an episode and then the real footage before and again after, for comparison.

What struck me straight away was that The Crown has been made with the advantage (it could be argued, disadvantage) of very long-reaching hindsight. As such it represents key figures - Charles and Diana - as equally complicit in creating a fiction for the nation. In particular, it portrays Diana both as fundamentally dim and/or naïve, whilst also being manipulative and cunning. In truth it's difficult to see how she could be both dim and cunning simultaneously. 

I was a teenager when Charles and Diana married and these scenarios played out in real life. Whilst I've never been particularly interested in the monarchy, nor a fan of them in general or of Diana in particular, like every young girl of the time I followed the romancing of the Princess-to-be and watched the royal wedding. I saw the camera footage that captured Diana's doe-eyed gaze upon her future husband, the seemingly shy girl who was still willing smile for everyone she met. And I saw the way Charles seemed genuinely taken by her. 

In The Crown, Diana's coyness is over-egged. Forced even. She appears to already know her eventual fate of readily discarded and unloved wife, not to mention the legacy she will leave behind her with her premature death. Every scene is over-played for more than it's worth... and then some. 

For younger viewers or those who have no first-hand recollection of this period, and in particular for those not residing in the UK, it might seem that the writing was on the wall. Indeed in many scenes the viewer almost feels as if there must surely be a violinist waiting in the wings for a grand entrance. Whilst I am no real fan of the monarchy, I admit to feeling uneasy that  Diana is made out to be a simpering, cunning yet whimpering ingenue, whilst Charles seems torn between his heart and his duty. 

What is represented on screen is a duplicitous relationship where both parties seek only to fulfil their own needs and wants. And in that, perhaps in truth  it is no different to any real courtship. Except for one thing. Re-watching the real archive footage I couldn't help but believe both Charles and Diana entered into marriage in the belief that they could make it work. Yes, we all know in hindsight that Charles still had a dalliance (for lack of a better word) with the very married Camilla going on at the time, but let's face it, he wouldn't have been the first man to believe that he could get over one woman by getting under another...

The script has been well written, the dialogue realistic and all too plausible and I cannot fault the amazing performances by the excellent cast, which includes Olivia Coleman. Therefore I feel the fault is in the direction. The too-simpering coy looks of Diana, the hesitant, falseness of Charles, the almost tally ho attitude of Camilla's every scene. 

It's not the words they speak to one another that rings so untrue, it's the tilt of their heads, the arch of their backs, the tell-tale signs that they don't believe a word they utter. And that, dear friends is what happens when you already know the ending of a story. Charles couldn't fall in love with Diana because he couldn't fall out of love with Camilla. Diana died. The rest, very literally, is now history and Camilla is now Queen Consort. 

But did this little triangle of human beings know that's how things would turn out? Could they have had any inkling? Of course not. Sad to say that if the direction had been played differently I would be raving about The Crown Series 4. Unfortunately it wasn't, and I'm not. 

Jigsaw Girl

Today I'd like to tell you about Jigsaw Girl. 

It was a story that came to me via its main character - much the same as Split Decision did.  But that's where the similarity ends. Natalie, from Split Decision, was carried along by fate in many ways, whereas Scarlett Clarke (aka Jigsaw Girl) goes as far as to make her own fate. 

I've always been fascinated by the idea of consequence. And I think that comes out fully in most of my stories. It is, after all, the thing that's at the heart of every good tale. And it fills our lives, shaping the course of our individual destinies. 

Scarlett is a character who is taken to the very brink. She feels responsible for the death of the fireman who died trying to save her and unworthy of the sacrifice he gave - his life for hers. During the time I spent telling her tale I felt a voyeur to her pain. I understood her sense of unworthiness the fragility of her. But I was also proud of her, the way she found her strength, the fact that she dragged herself up in order to help her brother Charlie; that she refused to go down without a fight. 

So if you see yourself in her, please take what you can from this story.  We are all of us flawed. We just need to find a way to be the best that we can. 

BLURB 

   “Do you think we’ll get another dog?” he says. 

    I’m so shocked I stop in my tracks. “After Shadow?” Breath catches painfully in my chest and I have to force myself not to scream. “Is that what you would have done if I’d died, Charlie? Ask Mum and Dad to give you another sister?”

      It’s cruel and unfair, especially as the tone it’s delivered in is acidic. None of this is Charlie’s fault and he’s only nine after all. But he can’t be allowed to think that life – any life – is so easily replaceable. That like changing a lightbulb, the light of one life can ever replace the light of another, extinguished one. It doesn’t work like that.

      Not for me anyway.

      But what if the end, wasn’t the end at all? What if it was really only the beginning?

     Because that’s where my beginning started. At the end. 

TO VIEW THE FIRST SECTION OF JIGSAW GIRL FOR FREE CLICK here.

Happy reading, 

Carmen.  

Fiction versus reality

What a strange situation we find ourselves in: spring is here, summer well on its way, and we are confined indoors for fear of dying.

Meanwhile the very people we are counting on to save us, are packed like sardines into public transport, expected to do their jobs, exhausted, and without the protective equipment that could ensure their safety - the world really has turned on its head.

There are a lot of phoney soothsayers around, telling all and sundry that they or someone else they know, prophesised this, that it is God's will, that it's all in the great plan. Believe that if helps you - I'd personally rather stick to the science.

But whatever your beliefs, there are some things that are undeniable. One is that all of us are going to suffer some loss - a family member, a friend, a colleague... The other is that our world will be forever changed.

There are some fears that don't just ever go away - the bogeyman under the bed, the mad axeman in the woods... Covid-19 will remain in our collective conscience long after it's claimed its last victim. Like the bogeyman, it will alter our perception of what's safe and what isn't. Probably forever.

When I wrote The Owners series and in particular Storm Clouds and the subsequent volumes, it was this sort of scenario I had in mind.

Set in the almost present, it depicted a world in panic over a series of devastating superstorms and the damage to the whole structure of civilisation which ensued. But more than that, it was a tale of humanity - of the people who were elevated by their situation and of those who used it for their own selfish needs. Isn't that exactly what we're seeing now?

Of course Storm Clouds is an apocalyptic tale and the volumes which follow it therefore, post-apocalyptic, and I hope with all my heart we don't follow that into reality but the motives of the people in my stories and in real life are the same...

Keep safe everyone and please be respectful and considerate. And hopefully we'll come through this together.

Happy reading. xx

Editing!

Editing today...

The toilets are empty ,as I knew they would be. I find the cleanest cubicle and lock the door. For a long time I stare at the razor but do nothing with it. I am not afraid. Quite the opposite. I am excited. The anticipation of the calm serenity which I know will overcome me when I make a cut, causes my hands to shake with excitement.

I hold the blade up towards the electric strip lights. The bulbs are covered so the metal doesn’t gleam as much as it does at home, but it sparkles enough to entice me to turn it around and around in my hands.

I want to cut so badly. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Soon I can’t stand it any longer; the wait, the heady anticipation. I bare my skin and make a cut on my upper thigh, the one I’ve already marked. Blood wells and flows and I mop it up and flush the evidence of bloodied tissue away, watching it swirl around the white porcelain bowl like an unfurling flag.

It’s my flag. My banner. My proclamation that I still exist. Whether I want to or not.

Happy reading!

Sleep, perchance to dream...

I am sleep deprived. Seriously sleep deprived. During the last week I have had on average two and a half hours of sleep per night. I am like the walking dead.

And yet the creative side of my brain refuses to quit. What little sleep I do get is peppered with dreams, and not strange and near hallucinogenic ones, but indeed lucid, coherent and cohesive, fully-joined up dreams. A few of them have been exciting enough for me to have jotted them down in my 'ideas for future novels' book.

I can barely string a sentence together I'm so tired, and on more than one occasion I have attempted to make coffee without first boiling the water...and yet the creative side of my brain is awash with ideas. Now if only I could sleep enough to get the energy to start writing some of them up...

In the meantime, why don't you take a look at some of those I have already written, just click on the link to Amazon on the right.

Happy reading!

News update

I have just received word that my books will be available through Microsoft's new Digital Bookstore however, should there be a blip with this, as so often happens with new technology, please revert back to the other sales channels.

My latest works are coming along well. Currently I am writing another novel and also a series of animated scripts.

Here is an excerpt of today's chapter from the novel:-

I am a flower, a set of unopened petals which he unfurls with magnificent skill. The question of how and with whom he previously acquired that skill strikes at my heart for a nano-second, but I ignore it. He’s with me now. And that’s all that matters.

I would imagine you can see where that's going...

My other news is very mixed. My original publisher, P'kaboo has become the victim of a terrible tragedy. It's not my place to discuss the private matters of anyone else, so I won't. But please don't be discouraged from purchasing any of the P'kaboo books, either my own or any other author's. I promise you, you'll enjoy them. To those of you who are aware of the situation, thank you for your patience.

Here is the link on Amazon, as the more direct Publisher's Bookshop is currently suspended.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=p'kaboo+publisher&rh=n%3A266239%2Ck%3Ap'kaboo+publisher

I'm also including the link to my other publisher's blog, as they often have much more interesting things than me, to report on.

http://www.uncialpress.com/blog/

As I always say to people - I am the most average person you could meet. But my characters are exceptional and the stories they have to tell are riveting. If you don't believe me, try me.

Until then, happy reading!

My lips are sealed.

There's so much I'd like to tell you... so much about my newest character and the course of her life...

But as with all of my stories, the plots unfold darkly, leaving me breathless and anticipating the next twist in the tale - and exactly because of that, because of those unplanned turns, I am unable to enlighten you, other than to say that you are going to be swept away by it.

Being an author is a strange job. Your head is constantly filled with characters and plots, and often the mundane things in life either pass you by, or take on the greatest significance. Things people say, things they do - and more than that, the actual essence of their personality - gets squirreled away to be scrutinized over and dissected later, in order that it can inform and advise as to how any one of us would react in a given situation.

And believe me, at 50 I have had the benefit of many, many interactions. So don't be too surprised if you read one of my books and lose yourself in it. That's exactly what I'm here for.

Happy Reading. x

A little bit of poetry to soothe the soul...

Every so often you come across someone who strikes a chord with you. This poet/author is one such person.

With his permission I have posted his lovely poem here.

This has come from a great writer friend of mine from 'across the pond'. It's about October - the magical month of my birth [of course it is]. Enjoy. xx

My Quarrel With October
Look up from the rich, black soil....
Fatigue never felt so good to me.
Look up from blinkered garden toil:

There is beauty and wonder in all I see.

Feel the soft warmth of the autumn sun.
Breathe in the crisp chill of October’s air.
Number life’s virtues when day is all done.


The majesty of October reigns everywhere.
Clouds sail past in a feathery sky.
The chill foreshadows the coming cold.
The woods serve up a feast for the eyes:


A leafy mantle of crimson, scarlet and gold.
The flowers of summer all bow their heads
To the mums, now crowned in purple and gold.
Spikes of royal lavender stand up in their stead.


The rhythms of autumn never seem to grow old.
See the blood red flush of the burning bush,
Twilight colors the sky violet and shades of red.
The palette of autumn has come on with a rush.


Nature’s beauty has made me drunk in the head.
Listen closely and one will hear
A wedge of wild geese on the wing,
And the serenade of the lark so near.


Have you ever heard a more beautiful thing?
The early crickets have come out to sing.
They rub their limbs to ward off the cold.
They long again for the warmth of spring.


No one told them the year had grown old.
Hear the rustle of the tasseled corn,
As restless and wavy as the open sea.
The wind gently sighs of winters forlorn.


All the while, autumn whispers goodbye to me.
I wipe rich, black earth from my hands.
The day has grown old at a quarter to five.
Autumn work draws forth the joys of a man.


Sweet October makes it feel good to be alive.
I stack a cord of wood from the pile.
The apple tree blushes red with her fruit:
There’ll be supper and apple pie in a while.


First I’ll light the fire and kick off my boots.
Thoughts of winter make a man sober:
I’d invite October to stay on, if I could.
Let this be my only quarrel with October:


There’s too little of her to last us for good.
There is beauty and splendor in all I see.
The senses reveal what mere words cannot say:
The splendor of autumn is far too lovely for me.

Has the world ever given us a more beautiful day?

Richard Merli
Copyright Richard Merli

As ever - Happy Reading! xx

ELSA will not be challenged!

ELSA will not be challenged. Taken from Future Perfect.

I don’t give them a chance to answer. The guns are in position and ready.


There are seventeen people directly in the weapons’ lines of sight - eight women, three men and six children.


All guns fire simultaneously. Smoke billows into the air and bodies fall soundlessly to the ground, holes torn in their soft human flesh. One woman twists as she falls, probably dead before she hits the ground. But in perhaps that last moment of life, of awareness, she pulls a young child against her, shields his body with her own. She topples on top of him, saving his life with the sacrifice of her own. It’s to be in vain.

I roll the assignment vehicle over the dead and the dying, unable to hear the crush of bones, the wet squelching of ruptured organs, under its weight, but satisfied of the outcome nonetheless. This sector decided its fate the moment it did not comply with my demands. There will be no mercy. There cannot be.

Happy New Year!

The main reason for my recent visit to Glasgow was to see my elderly father but I also set time aside to catch up with friends. As we only meet once a year, it is fairly easy to keep up the pretence that I am always well-groomed and presentable and that I never, ever answer the door to the postman in my pjs.

But I knew the day was going to go badly when, sitting perched on her side of the bed in the Travelodge room that I was sharing with her, my two sons and two large dogs, my daughter asked through mouthfuls of cornflakes why I had chosen to dye my hair ginger.

Ginger? Really? I shot up and examined myself to find that she was at least a little right. What I had thought to be a pleasing shade of mid-blonde was indeed rather gingery… which proved that not only was my hair turning white, but my eyesight was failing!

The rest of the day turned out to be different to my expectations too. I had carefully researched where I could meet my friend in the centre of Glasgow to have a drink, as I had not only three children in tow but also two dogs. Finally the internet provided an answer and I arranged the meeting after confirming that they did allow dogs in.

So the appointed day and time came and we made our way to the pub, only to be greeted by two men carrying large bundles of wood into the place.

Horrified, I asked if they had suddenly closed for refurbishment. But they hadn’t. Phew relief! They eyed up the dogs. Equally nervously, I stated that I had already phoned them to check that they allowed dogs in. They assured me they did. We were halfway down the steps into the basement bar before they called me back.

“What?” I asked rather tersely by now. “Aren’t you open yet?”

“Naw hen we’re open,” he said in a broad Glaswegian dialect. “An we’re no doin’ any renovations. An aye yer dugs are welcome in. But ye cannae take yer kids in here.” [Translation: “My dear we are open. There are no renovations being currently carried out and your dogs are most welcome here. But not your children, unfortunately.”]

Would you believe it?

Equally as strange, was the pub we ate at that night which turned out to be a deconsecrated church. The pulpit and area for the choir was still preserved, as was the vaulted ceiling and the stained glass windows. The place was incredibly beautiful and somehow very wrong.

So one pub which was licenced to allow dogs but not kids through the door, and another that had once been the site of religious worship and was now favouring a worship of an entirely different kind altogether? Absolutely! Only in Scotland folks, only in Scotland.

Happy New Year!

Read all about it!

My newest book, is now out. Follow the link to take a look at it.

 http://www.pkaboo.net/splitdecision.html

Happy Reading!

Thank you!

Many thanks to the Stroke Association who hosted one of my talks today. Talking about my books never fails to excite me and it is always lovely to have such an appreciative audience.   


Writing stories is both the hardest and the easiest thing I have ever done. It is hard because it requires you to bare your soul and to commit yourself entirely to the story, but it is also the easiest, because for me writing is not a choice, it is a compulsion.


The one question I am always asked at any of these events is how do I find the time to do everything. The truth is that I don't. Like all of us, there are times when I am forced to make a choice between what I want to do and what I have to do. Mostly I am sensible with my time - but not always!


My point here is that I will notice if I haven't written a chapter that day, but the kids will never notice if I failed to vacuum. Life is short. And sometimes it's hard. Live it how your heart dictates.


Carmen x.

Faster, faster, faster!

I can't believe the speed at which I am working on my newest book - believe it or not I am writing two chapters a day!

It is such a darkly twisting plot that the words are flowing out of me almost faster than I can commit them to the screen. Not much of it is printable here though, as I am aware that children and adults alike read my blog and this particular book is suitable for the over fifteens only.

Here however is a little snippet :-

“What’s happening to you is wrong,” my mother placed her hand on the wooden door but did not attempt to push it open. “Through us you might manage to make sure that the same thing doesn’t happen to another girl.”

 

I will post a list soon for venues where I will be conducting book signings and author talks.

 

Until then - Happy Reading!

News flash!

Just a quick post to say a big thank you to my publisher. Split Decision will be out next year, hopefully early in the year. Details to follow.
 
Oh and I have thoroughly gotten into my latest book, The Ascension of Sarah Mallory - watch this space for updates and snippets.

Here is a little bit:-

I steeled myself for a bout of reminiscing. Normally I was more than happy to talk about my gran or my dad with him, but right then I had more pressing things on my mind.

“She told me a story once. I didn’t really believe it at the time – your Gran was prone to a little embellishment if she thought it livened up a dull tale – but later, much later, I saw that it was true. Well most of it anyway.”

Despite my urgency to help Sarah my interest was piqued. “What was it about?” I asked.

“Well you see that’s the funny thing. Because it was about your Great-Grandma, Emily’s mother, but it was also about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes Jess, you.” There was a note of such sadness in his voice that I almost wished he would come out with something ludicrous, something that would mark one of his rapid slides into dementia and I would be able to dismiss everything.

What's new pussycat?

Excuse the title for this post but it was literally the first thing that popped into my head for some reason. Over the years I have realised that to question the things that pop into my head is a. pointless and b. a little too self-analytical. Indeed, often there turns out to be a strange serendipity going on which is not evident until much later...so now I try to go with the flow. 

Today I am beginning a new book. I am so excited! This is a story I started a couple of years ago but had to abandon due to the pressure of continuing with The Owners books. Since I plan to start back on The Owners next year, I thought this would be a perfect time to complete Ascension. [I might have to change its name as I believe there has been a film of the same name brought out since I started this book.]

This is a very different type of book [yet again] to anything I have written before. It is darker than The Owners but has that same feeling of hidden malevolence to it, that sense that all is not how it at first seems, and indeed it isn't! The story comes under more of a fantasy genre than anything else and is about a girl who questions the way her world is.

Without giving too much away, there are continuous twists and turns and plot revelations that I hope will make the reader stop and think. This one is set to be a deep book with dark forces running through it and pinches of gothic-style horror.

So far this year I seem to be challenging myself to see how many different genres I can write in. It was never a conscious decision, however since Jan 2014 I have completed a dark young adult book [Split Decision - now with my publisher], another cross-over book set very much in the real world [The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons] and a chick-lit book [The Plan] ! PHEW!

And did you see what I just did there? :) I slipped in my biggest piece of news!

I now have a traditional publishing deal for Split Decision [I haven't shown them the other books yet] and negotiations are underway.

Up until now I have been self-published but whilst this is great in some ways, it makes things a lot harder in others, so I am pleased that I now have other people to help me produce and publicise my books.

Anyway better get cracking, hadn't I, or there won't be any new story! Look out for excerpts from Ascension as soon as I get into the flow.

Happy Reading.

 

This morning I met with my 'coffee ladies'. We discussed whether it was indeed possible to put your mind to doing something and achieving it even if it was beyond your intelligence level.

For me the jury is still out on the subject, however my character Lucas is finding that school work has a  new relevance for him now that he has a rescue pigeon in his care.

Here is today's snippet.

He had spent the Saturday morning doing his homework with Brighteyes watching him from the window sill. For maths he had work in fractions and decimal points to be done and he flew through the questions with ease, regardless of whether they were purely numerical or worded ones, reshaping them in his mind to have reference to the bird. Two and a half multiplied by 3.8 became two full adults and a baby bird requiring 3.8 mls of medicine each. Five and seven eighths divided by 2.9 became five adults and a teenage bird who had to share almost 3mls of water between them…suddenly everything had a relevance, a purpose that he understood.

Even his English homework had a significance now that it hadn’t had previously. In his freestyle assignment he chose to write an investigative report on how pigeons were maligned by society, vilified because of the erroneous belief that their faeces was harmful to humans. And to his surprise he loved every moment of the work.

 

Happy Reading!

Scottish Independence... Scotland The Brave or United Britain?

On the question of Scottish independence... as someone who was born and raised in Scotland, I have been asked over and over by my friends how I would have voted if I still lived in there and also how I ultimately think the vote tomorrow will turn out.


So here it is. I think it will be a 'yes' vote and indeed that is what I would have voted if I still resided there. But please let me explain. I love England. I have lived here for over twenty years and consider it my home; indeed I have no desire to return to Scotland at all.


However it cannot be denied that the English have had something that has been long denied to the Scottish - a sense that they are masters of their own political destiny; purveyors of their own fate. 


From the moment that devolution took place I think the writing was on the wall that Scotland, having had a small taste of political independence would hanker after the whole hog...


And so it has come to this. Will it be a divided Britain? Not necessarily. The intertwining of nations that is modern Europe will ensure that should the vote be 'yes' there will not be closed borders reminiscent of 'cold-war' Russia. What there just might be is a raised morale in Scotland with the Scottish no longer feeling the underdogs to the English.


And if it is a mistake, as so many predict it will be? Then at least it will be Scotland's own mistake, made by themselves, about themselves.


Either way, the fate of a nation is in it's people's hands and I for one am watching with baited breath.


On a lighter note:- a van with the slogan "Wrekin Removals" passed me on the road today. Honestly, would you entrust your furniture to a company with such an unfortunate name?


Happy Reading.

The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons.

Sometimes I wonder what you glean from all these little bits of storyline I post. Do you try to piece the story together? Does it whet your appetite for more? Does it give you an indication of how the characters are progressing? Feel free to write in and share your thoughts.

Here is the bit I have just written ten minutes ago:-

 

Lucas thought for a moment. The scene all around him was so beautiful, the few boats on the water quaintly painted with flowers and names embellished in flowing script. Here and there a few ducks swam serenely on top of the water, or dived momentarily beneath the still, glassy surface, their movements causing little ripples all around; ripples which grew wider and wider before fading to nothing once more.

Across from the towpath were fields of the lushest green grass where cows grazed sedately and gazed at him as if he were the oddest looking thing they had ever seen. Set against a blue sky which held only a hint of the darkness which would later descend, it was a surreal scene and he felt as if he were not witnessing it for real, through his own eyes but instead through the medium of oil on canvas.

It was somehow too perfect to be real.

 

 

Poor, poor Lucas is trapped in a situation that is not of his making. I hope he finds his way out!

 

Happy Reading x

Hot off my laptop screen here is today's excerpt from the chapter I am currently writing:-

Molly snorted. “I never said it would make you more popular, what I said was that I could help you be more normal.” She waved her hands in the air as if needing their help to explain her point. “I can’t make people like you Lucas, though I can’t see any reason why they wouldn’t once they get to know you. Under all that moodiness and stuff I mean.”

“Gee thanks!”

She laughed again. “Don’t take everything so personally,” she said.

“I’m sorry but you have spent the entire conversation insulting me and I’m not supposed to take it personally?” she really did take the biscuit, he thought.

“Exactly! It’s just a seeing thing, a whatdoyoumacaall it, a thingy…”

Lucas thought hard. The conversation was going off track and he was losing the thread rapidly.

“When you watch something and you see it!” she was getting annoyed with herself that she couldn’t remember the word.

“An observation?” he supplied.

“That’s it! That’s the thing I meant – an obstication! That’s what it was!” she was almost skipping with excitement now.

“Observation,” he supplied again.

“Whatever,” she waved the word off with her hands. “The point is that you have to let them get to know you before they can like you.”

 

 

Molly is turning out to be a more central character than I had anticipated but from the moment she bounced into the story I knew she had some important things to say...I wonder what she will do next?

 

Happy Reading!