Why I do what I do

Two weeks ago I released the family drama The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons. It was to be my third book release of 2023. (I wrote about my inspiration and reason for this book which you can find if you scroll down a few posts.)

Somewhere between releasing the dystopian science fiction novel Future Imperfect and The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons I realised I needed help. If you've been following my books, you'll already know that all my profits go to animal charities, animal rescues and children's charities, so paying for advertising has always been contra-intuitive for me. I wanted to be able to give money to the various global charities and rescues, and I couldn't do that if I was spending the money on advertising... But sales were less than great. And little money coming in meant that little money could go to good causes. 

And then a strange thing happened. The interest in The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons was obvious, even before I released the book. This interest has far outweighed any of my other books and the love that I have felt from readers and other authors has taken my breath away. Two in particular have been a great source of information on marketing and advertising, things I'd never really done before. Between them they have advised me on a variety of marketing approaches, all of which I'm trying out. Hopefully the money spent on advertising will generate more money that I can use to help save and improve animal and children's lives. 

So why do I give my profits away? Well I'm naturally frugal (some would go so far as to say tight), but I prefer the term careful. I'm not a shopper, I don't eat meat and I don't like fine wines. I'm generally happy with a Greek salad and a shandy. I don't often go on holiday as I have a low boredom threshold and I miss my pets too much and I have no expensive hobbies. Sounds boring, right? Well it probably is to most folks. 

But it serves my purpose. Back when I published my first few books, I stood in the middle of the Bromsgrove branch of WHSmith and sold signed copies and every penny of profit went to a charity to support a young, disabled local girl. Being able to help her and her family in this small way made me feel a hundred times better than any material possession could ever have done. So it's not an entirely altruistic one-way transaction. I get something from it too. If I can save one cat/dog/squirrel/pigeon or help a child, then my time on this earth will have had a greater purpose. And that's what drives me. 

Since I began writing, I've used my profits to help a number of other charities globally. I've never given more than £50 at a time to any cause, so we're not talking life changing sums of money for them, although I hope one day to be able to do that, but it's enough to help ease their struggle just a little. And sometimes that's the difference between an animal being rescued or not. A life being saved or not. 

Many of my books deal with social issues. Jigsaw Girl (currently reduced to 99p) deals with teenage peer pressure, guilt, self-esteem issues and cutting, Split Decision deals with coming of age insecurities, pressures and dangers, and The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons deals with isolation, lack of understanding, loneliness and a social inability to fit in. They are things that most of us will encounter in one way or another during our lifetime. Life can be tough. My books are not self-help manuals, they are compelling stories that I hope help people make sense of the world around them; that let readers see that they are not alone; and that have the power to make people really stop and think. 

So now that you know all about why and what I write, I do hope you'll take a look at some of my books. Your purchase will help change the world just a little. Doesn't that sound like a good enough reason to buy?

x

About the release of The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons

 A lot of people have asked me why it's taken me so long to release The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons. The answer is simple and yet exceptionally emotionally complex. 

I wrote the book back in 2009 or thereabouts and edited it ready for publication. But I didn't publish it. I couldn't. I wasn't emotionally ready. But I am now. 

The story centres around Lucas Reverential Pertwee - an unusual boy in an unusual situation. Lucas finds and takes in an injured pigeon and in caring for and helping to heal the bird, he manages to emotionally heal himself. The character of Lucas is based upon me and my eldest child, Ryan. We are both raw, bleeding hearts when it comes to animals. 

But the core of the story is actually about my dad. Or rather my step-dad, Gerald McCammick. He took me in as his daughter when I was six and strove to provide a physically safe environment for me. I make the distinction here because ours was not always an easy relationship. Both of us were emotionally scarred by life and there are things that regardless of how hard you try, you never fully recover from. So we trundled along with the occasional drunken rage on his part and teenage truculent slamming of doors on mine. 

I'm not seeking to trivialise these moments. They were part of our lives. A big part. But they also never really shook the bedrock that our made-family was founded upon. We both knew we loved each other. 

Of course there is much more to this story than I've put down upon this page. But that is for another time. Or perhaps never. 

When I wrote the book I told my dad that I was dedicating it to him. He just smiled and said, "Oh aye, very good Carmen." But I know how much it meant to him. It didn't matter that I couldn't bring myself to publish it for so long. We both knew the dedication was forged in each line of text I'd written. Publishing the book wouldn't give it any more validation than it existing in the first place. And when my dad died a few years ago, it didn't matter that I still hadn't brought out the book. The time wasn't yet right. 

So what made the time right now? I don't honestly know, except that deep inside I recognised the change. I'm 56... and six. I'm still that little girl. I still rescue pigeons. 

The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons is available from June 1st, in time for ordering for Father's Day. Take a look at all my books here.

x

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!

I am coming towards the end of The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons. I really feel for my character Lucas - I have been in his situation and it is hard on the heart at times. Here is the excerpt from today's chapter :-

Lucas felt a stab of guilt. Was he neglecting Brighteyes? He really didn’t intend to leave the bird alone for so long but then again was it in its best interests to make it too tame either? What would happen once it was released to the wild if it was too used to human company?

He worried about the rights and wrongs of the situation as he peddled to the park. Brighteyes seemed to be getting better, growing stronger every day. And that was a good thing – no, actually that was a great thing! But she also seemed to be becoming more accustomed to him every day, a little less afraid, a little more accepting of his sudden movements, less startled when he spoke… and sometimes recently he had noticed that she seemed to be paying more attention to him, almost as if she considered him to be part of her flock…

He was honoured by the bird’s acceptance but he was also more than a little worried. Would she pine for him when she was back in the wild? Would she feel betrayed? Abandoned? Alone? And him – how would he feel having to give her up to fate, not ever knowing if she was alright?


They say that if you love something you should let it go...I think that will be a hard lesson for Lucas. Keep your fingers crossed for me and for him.

Until my next post - Happy Reading!

Here is the latest snippet from The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons.
 
Lucas is growing closer to his rescue every day. But the bird is growing stronger and soon he will have to face that bittersweet moment all rescuers do - he will have to let the bird go back to the wild.
 
I know fellow resucers will all know that feeling well, the hope and the dread mixed together, it is a heavy feeling in your heart, like treacle seeping through it. Here Lucas is just beginning to feel it :-

 
The pigeon was coming along well and every day took more of an interest in the world outside the window. She would turn her head to watch other birds fly past but now, instead of trying to press herself through the glass as she had done the first morning he had placed her there, she would watch for a while and then turn to him as if to say, ‘that will be me one day, won’t it? You will set me free, won’t you?’


He always replied verbally to her look. “Yes Brighteyes, that will be you too one day.” His mouth said the words even as his heart tried to retract them. He could no longer imagine being in his room without his little feathered friend to keep him company. The pigeon was growing more and more comfortable with him every day and there was a feeling of teamwork between them, as if it was actively helping in its own rehabilitation
 
This book is now about 2/3 complete. I will let you know how I get on. In the meantime if you want to look at my other work just scroll down or click on one of the links.


And as ever - Happy Reading!

The end is in sight!

The summer hols are almost over and I am desperate to get back to my writing. I can't normally write whilst the kids are home but today I got up early whilst they were still in bed. I actually managed half a chapter before I had to stop.

The book is at the half-way point and I can see more clearly where it is going. It is a deep tale of a troubled boy and the act that ultimately saves him.


Here is the very latest excerpt from The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons. I hope you enjoy it.


Happy reading.

“I prepared some more food for your bird. There was some left over bits of meat and potatoes so I chopped them up really small and I did some more peas and corn.”


He nodded, relieved to be talking about the bird rather than Martin. “Will it eat meat and potatoes?” he asked.
 
Anna shrugged. “Out in the wild I guess they eat whatever they can find. They eat worms so that’s meat!” she said, pushing away from the table and taking the dirty bird dishes from him. “But the bird is your responsibility Lucas. I thought I made that clear. You need to look up on the internet what it should be fed and what it will need to make it better.”


He nodded. She was right and it was what he had been planning to do until…until he had had that message from Hugh Grant. He cursed himself for not getting on with his responsibilities. If he messed this up Martin or his mother would make him get rid of the pigeon.


Lucas sensed that this would not only be a death sentence for the bird but that in some strange way it would be the death of him too.

Hello again folks!
Just a quick post to let you know that The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons is now half-written. [Working Title]


 This is where Lucas is just about to rescue his first bird. I hope you like it.
Carmen x

It was an almost eerie experience, walking home along familiar roads whilst everyone else was still in school. With no reason to rush, he walked at his usual pace.

Had the streets been filled with other children he might not have seen it. Had he walked this particular path just an hour later, it might have been too late.

At first he thought it was a piece of rubbish on the road – a discarded crumpled up newspaper or chip wrapper – but as he approached it moved away, cowering from him, drawing its injured body inwards to shield its already broken and battered wings from further harm. A bright red crescent of blood bloomed around its neck and across the area between its wings where feathers and skin had been ripped away to expose the fine muscles beneath.
  
Terrified, it huddled into the side of the kerb as he towered over it, too terrified to drag itself away, too terrified not too. He saw the indecision flicker under its brightly beaded eye. But more than what he saw, it was what he felt that crushed his heart.

This bird had been beaten and savaged by life – just as he had been. It didn’t much matter who or what the perpetrator had been, a car, a cat or even another, bigger bird…what mattered was that life had dealt this creature such an unkind blow and left it abandoned here to die like a piece of trash, discarded and disposable.

With no awareness of what he was about to do, Lucas carefully scooped the pigeon into his arms, trying to avoid touching it where it was wounded. It tried to flutter away from him, chest heaving in frenzied gasps, beak wide open in a soundless scream. Inside his head Lucas heard its cry. It was a strangely human sound, full of sorrow and misery and desolation.

Only as he brought the bird to his chest, resting it against the beating of his own heart did he recognise the source of the scream. It was his own.

Tomorrow I will let you have a sneak peak of where I am at on The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons. I was going to update you today but the site has been down for most of the day. Never mind - tomorrow will soon be here.


Look out for my new recommendation page too.


Until then, happy reading!

Today I am frantically working on The Boy Who Rescues Pigeons [this is only its working title] and thought you might like a little snippet.

Here is the very latest bit:-

Anna didn’t respond with words. Instead she reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “She was an old lady Lucas. She had her time. And it’s far less a tragedy that she died than if you had.”

Lucas was shocked. “How can you say that mum? She was your mother?”

Anna nodded, not halting or slowing her stride in any way. “Because it’s nature. Because the old should always precede the young, because no mother wants to outlive her own child …and believe me your gran would have been the first to agree with that sentiment!”

In some ways this is quite a difficult story to write. My own grandmother, the late Margaret Saez has been used as a template for the feisty Valerie and whilst it is always nice to reminisce, it brings its own sorrows. I hope I do justice to her character.

Happy reading!

Pigeon Post!

I have been feeling rather ambivalent the last few days. Last Thursday I took the wood pigeon we have been looking after for the last six months to a permanent rescue centre.

It was hard to hand him over but as he had lost the very tips of one wing and seemed unable to grow back his flight feathers, it seemed the kindest thing to do.

In a terrible state when I brought him here after being savaged by a cat, it was very touch and go whether or not he would actually live. But he did and he coped well, eating until he was a huge barrel of a bird and eying up the dogs with no fear whatsoever....

But he was alone with no other pigeon company and so I took the decision to put him in a rescue centre where he would have the company of his own kind. Rightly or wrongly, it is my belief that this is important.

So whilst we were pleased for him, we also knew that we would feel his absence deeply.

We miss you Mr Fluffy but hope that you live a long and happy life with all your new pigeon friends . xxx

They shoot horses, don't they?

It is a strange world indeed. A world full of contrasts and complexities so deep, that sometimes I have to just stop and wonder at it all.

As you already know, the human condition perplexes me greatly and although I know I will never get to the bottom of its deep well of understanding, I do like to drink deeply of it every now and again.

I have recently joined a new Facebook group. Not having even previously known of their existence, I came across this group of random individuals, who dedicate much of their spare time to the
collection and care of injured birds, mostly pigeons.

And what a revelation! Big hairy, bearded men, the sort I would possibly have crossed the street to avoid, are pictured lovingly regarding a healed or healing bird, which sits perched on their shoulder. Heavily tattooed young women with neon hair, hold the injured birds up to the camera, to show their injuries and ask for or give advice on specific wound treatments.

And I realised something about myself in the process. Having come from Glasgow [albeit a long time ago when I was eighteen], I thought that I judged people by their actions, rather than their image. But I was wrong. I am just as judgemental as is the next person.

Now don't get me wrong. These lovely people are nutty as fruit cakes but in a lovely way. And I'm sure now that if they read this blog they will agree. Let me explain.

It's not what they do, the rescuing and caring for birds, which is the nutty part. No, that is the most commendable part of their characters. The care, the diligence and the concern they show for each and every one of their charges, is heart-renderingly wonderful.

The nutty part, is the bit that comes after, where they proceed to let the birds fly around their houses or nest up in the curtains! But it is a nuttiness born of consideration and love, a real ability to actually do what most of us can only say - to live and let live.

And of course, I am as nutty as the rest of them. I, after all, have an injured wood pigeon in my kitchen which flaps around the kitchen and the back garden. That's why the conversation I have just had with one of my children hit me so hard.

I was asked by my daughter why she had [in a film] seen a horse being shot after it had a broken leg. I had to explain that although the injuries would heal, that most people found the process too expensive. And that, added to the fact that the horse would never be able to be ridden as well afterwards, caused it to be condemned to a death sentence.

My eldest was mortified. Why were there no laws to stop this? Why were there no charities that would take in the horses? I explained there were charities but that they were most probably swamped with requests.

But awful as that situation is,  I was not disheartened by it as I once  would have been. Through this group I can see that there are kind and humane people in all walks of life. And that just because you can't instantly spot them, doesn't mean they don't exist. Because I know that somewhere, someone will be working with these horses just as my group is with birds.

You see what I am trying to say, is that these people have restored my faith  in human nature. They have given me back what was lost through countless news programmes or newspaper articles which report on only the horrors of the world.

There are good people out there...and not just a few. So stand up you strangely bearded men and neon barneted women, with your piercings and your tattoos, arise you quiet damsels or shy withdrawn young men and come forward all you others who look just like you and I.

Come forward all of you, for you are my heroes.

Pigeon Power

In Glasgow there is a place in the centre of the city called George Square.

When I was little and lived in Glasgow, my mother used to take me there with bags of corn to feed the birds.

I would sprinkle the seed on my arms and legs and sit with all four limbs outstretched, as the pigeons came and settled onto me to feed and strut about.

Last year I went there with my children. Light of heart and heavy of bag [containing pounds and pounds of corn] I was full of anticipation. I'm not the sort to go all teary-eyed at Christmas but I find the thought of communing with nature and all nature's creatures unbelievably humbling.

But the pigeons were mostly gone and the city itself was almost unrecognisable to me. Yet what hurt the most were not the new unknown shops and buildings that had emerged but the absence of the susurration of beating wings and the loss of the childlike sense of wonder as hundreds of birds flocked to my side for food and admiration.
 
So, come on Glasgow, bring the birds back and let your children have wonder in their souls again.

Pigeon racing?

Now let's see what is going on here...I have three children, two dogs and a pigeon.

The pigeon was supposed to be a temporary fixture but it's looking to me like he has had that conversation with someone, who has reliably informed him that children don't leave the nest till they are into their thirties nowadays...

Sorry Mr Fluffy but it's not in either of our interests for you to stick around that long! There are sunsets to cruise around, days of light and promise where warm winds will caress and gently buffet your wings as you stretch them and look to the horizon...go pigeon, go!

I'll let you know if he takes the hint.

Tonsil update.

Well it is now 9:50 pm and I'm afraid the self-medicational glass of gin and coke has now worn well-and-truly off!

My body is suffused with pain which I find difficult to comprehend as I only had my tonsils operated on but I feel as if an Olympic pole vaulter has used me as a landing pad over an extended period of time.

Every part of me aches and my throat seems to be peeling the flesh off itself much like a bad paint job, on a damp wall, on a hot day...the skin is bubbling and sloughing off.

I can't cough and I can't blow my nose. If I even try, the air seems to get caught somewhere up in the swollen regions of my throat and just pushes itself noisily out, accomplishing nothing.

I am utterly miserable ...but dear readers I can take some comfort in knowing you have had a laugh at my unfortunate situation.

I hope that I will be better both in body and mind when next I blog.
 :(

Failure to Launch!!!

I have just had my very own Failure To Launch moment!

Perhaps you remember the film? Its where Sarah Jessica Parker has a job that involves getting grown men to fall in love with her - so much so, that they decide the time has come to leave home and venture out on their own, in the process.

Now don't panic [I almost typed "Don't panic Mr Mannering" as for some reason Dad's Army sprang to mind], I am not talking about making my eldest leave home at the grand old age of 13.

What I am talking about is the pigeon. In fact what has happened since 4pm today has been so reminiscent of a scene from Dad's Army that has been strangely combined with an episode of Faulty Towers, that it is no wonder the apt phrase sprang immediately to mind.

You see, I had decided that today was the day! Today the pigeon would fly free! So after a quick examination, I released it into the garden. Where it proceeded to sit on the grass and regard me as if I was insane [it may have a point there, granted].

Unlike every other bird I have rescued and rehabilitated, this one did not want to leave! So I went indoors and watched it through the window.

It wasn't long before next door's cat had realised something unusual was afoot. Stealthily, it wound it's sleek, black, lithe body along the fence, watching the pigeon with beady eyes. The pigeon flapped its wings, fluttered and failed to fly off. It seemed that its flight feathers were not quite long enough.

Now normally I would have waited till they were equal in length to the ones on the other side but recently the bird seemed eager for the off, so I took it at its word, as it were. But clearly it could not gain momentum or enough height to scarper quick-smart. 

Well what's a girl to do? I couldn't let the cat have Fluffy [yes, I know, stupid name for a bird] for its tea. I hadn't looked after it for nearly three months just to fatten it up for the cat...

So there I was, chasing the cat off and racing round the garden in my crocs playing catch the pigeon, whilst the dogs watched me from the conservatory, huge grins on their faces, wondering what the game was and why they couldn't join in...

I tore around the garden, heart thudding in my chest, talking to this bird and telling it that it would just need to stay a little longer, for it's own sake. Luckily it listened and believed me and was easily caught once more. If anything, it seemed relieved when I deposited it back in its cage!

So if you are reading this and wondering if I am completely crazy, I have to tell you that sometimes, in the very darkest hour of the night, I wonder that too!

Anyway, for now the pigeon is back in its cage...let's hope the next time brings success ! If not, I may well be signing its name under all of ours on the Christmas card list this year....

The sun is shining and I'm optimistic...

but one thing I have learned in life, is never to put myself down...there are plenty of other folk more than willing to do that job for me!

If you are feeling low today, take some time out and think about the positives in your life. They are often the little things that we take so much for granted.

The pigeon is doing well and enjoying the sunshine which, is doing its very best to brighten the room. It's able to fly to the higher perches now, so I'm hoping it can be set free soon and I will get my space back!

Changes are underway still, slow but sure but wasn't there an old tale about that - something to do with the tortoise and the hare? I'll let you figure out which one I have always been and which one I am now striving to be.

I'll keep you posted ;)

Pigeon Pie!

I forgot to tell you how the pigeon was getting on. This is the wood pigeon that my daughter and I rescued from her school playground, after it had been attacked by a cat or a fox [or maybe a small ferocious child -I've seen the kids at that school!!!]

Anyway, the pigeon had lost a lot of blood and feathers and its one wing tip was torn off. It also had wounds around its neck and on its chest but with a lot of love and attention, these have healed and its flight feathers are finally growing back now.

Sophia insisted on calling it Fluffy - the most ridiculous name for a pigeon, I know but that's kids for you. It started off its recovery in our conservatory but as the days have warmed up, it has been moved out of there, lest it end up as a rather unfortunate pigeon pie...

I let it out when I have to clean its cage and it walks around having a look at everything, then when I am ready, it hops back in as if the cage is the best home its ever known and maybe indeed it is!

The dogs don't bother about it and it has learned to ignore them too so at least that's a blessing!

But in about three weeks I think it will be ready to be returned to the wild. I have spoken to the school and they are happy to have the children in the playground whilst we release it and it flies off to wherever pigeons fly off to.

Perhaps if it is true about karma then it will make up for the time I had to pluck what remained of a pigeon out of the radiator grill of a car I was in...remember peeps - what goes around comes around...