Living Each Day and Enjoying It

The most fascinating people have crossed my path since I started blogging less than a year ago. One of them has faithfully dogged my FaceBook footsteps from the beginning, and I am delighted to introduce George Polley, who has discovered one of the secrets of life.

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George, we met on Authonomy, and I have known you for a while. I see that you came from Seattle, and are now living in Japan. Why did you move there, and would you like to tell us something about your former life?

My wife (Aiko) and I moved to Sapporo, Japan after I retired because she is from here. After 29 years in the US, she wanted to come back home. We met in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1979, married in 1980, and moved to Seattle in 1984 to be near my parents (and closer to Japan).

I’ve had a dual career as writer/author and mental health counselor since the 1960s, when I wrote my first of several never published novels (isn’t that something we all do?), then wrote several short stories and poems. Things took off for me when a short story (“Jonah’s Birth”) was published in The South Dakota Review, followed by “Requiem for Blue” (about an elderly ex-convict) and a story about a beautiful young woman who is spirited away into the sky by hundreds of Monarch butterflies (published in “The Lake Street Review”). Now I write full time (meaning however many hours in a week I devote to writing). I also blog. Hmmm . . . seems I’m rather taken by writing.

And what is life like in Japan?

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The snow photo was taken this past winter in front of our condominium building.

Very enjoyable. Sapporo, the capitol of Hokkaido Prefecture, a city of one and a half million people, has all the conveniences a person needs: excellent public transportation (bus, subway and rail), excellent medical services, is in a broad valley between two mountain ranges, and is 30 minutes by rail to the Japan Sea. The weather reminds me of Seattle and the Pacific Northwest of my country, with a lot more snow in winter (but not as cold as Minnesota). It was, however quite an adjustment for both of us, as Aiko had spent half of her life in the US, and I had to get used to finding my way around without being able to read Japanese. Fortunately, most streets, directions in subway and rail stations are in English and Japanese.

You have published several stories, some short and some long; one of your reviewers state that you like to nudge people towards a kinder and more spiritual approach to the world around us. Would you like to tell us more about your objectives?

My objective in writing is to tell interesting stories about interesting  people. Some of my characters are easy to get to know, some are not. I try to find something in a character that people can connect with. I love humorous people, too, and humorous situations, which are easy to find in “The Old Man and The Monkey” and “Grandfather and the Raven.”

Seven short stories about Sherlock Holmes that include a big orange and white  Scottish Fold cat named MacTavish, published in “Sherlock Holmes in a Flash: New Short Holmes Stories,” published by Abbott ePublishing in 2010. I have a few more of these lurking about in my mind and my notes. MacTavish isn’t about to let me ignore him for too long.

 Tell us about your current work in progress, and when did you start writing it.

 This makes me smile, Jane. Forty-one years ago I went to Mexico City for a visit and stayed for two months. I fell in love with that great city, so unlike anything in my experience. Returning to Minneapolis, I began writing a novel about it, which I revised, revised again, got nowhere and quit. A year ago, I dug out my notes and began again. This time I used a different approach. Instead of using one character to tell his story of life in Mexico City, I use multiple characters to tell the story of this great city and its people. Some of the characters appear only once, others come back again and again. Together, all of them make up “The City Has Many Faces,” set in the early-mid 1970s, creating a living feel of being there experiencing this most fascinating of cities. Unconventional in its approach? Yes, because Mexico City demanded it.

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My beta readers love the novel and its characters, one of whom is a 103 year old elementary school principal. I’m looking for a publication date later this year or early in 2015.

That makes me smile, George. Did you know that I took 40 years to get my book to publication! Would you like to describe for us your journey to publication.

I began by looking for an agent. After several tries, I gave up, and began self-publishing in 1997, with Tortoise and Hare Publications as my trade name. For the next several years I published mental health booklets, a book titled “Living and Working in the 21st Century”, a short story collection, a poetry collection and a book titled “Things I’ve Learned from the Old.”

In 2009, I wrote several stories about a Sapporo grandfather, which was published by Abbott ePublishing. Writing more of them, they developed into “Grandfather and The Raven”, first published by Night Publishing, then by its successor Taylor Street Publishing. When it went under at the end of May, I decided to publish them and “Bear, the story of a boy and his very unusual dog”, using Tortoise and Hare. So, I’m back to self-publishing again.

What are your writing aims for the future?

A book about addiction and recovery, a novel (or novella) about a serial killer named Arla (I’ve written a flash fiction story about her that readers tell me is really scary, so I’ve done something right), and a novel about a Tokyo artist who survived the firebombings on 1945. I’m sure other ideas will emerge from there.

I’ve read snippets of poetry on your blog – how long have you been writing poetry, what inspired you, and have you published any?

I’ve written and published poetry from the mid-1970s. What inspired me? Believe it or not, it was as simple as this, published in my first poetry collection.

Poem in Gratitude to my Typewriter

Well . . . you know, you funky old machine,

if your N hadn’t broken off,

I probably never would have

started writing poetry.

 

You know damned all I can’t write more

than a page or two without your help,

so what else was I to do?

Now I go around spit ting images from

between my teeth like melon seeds

& calling the results poems.

 

If your N hadn’t broken off, I’d have

continued writing my book, & all these

poets would’ve been spared seeing

 

me come along dressed like a thug

with a sack full of four-legged words

pissing on every lamp-post & shrub

& daring to call myself

  

                   A POET!

What can I say, Jane, that really is the way it happened.

 You’ve written short stories, poetry, humour, novels and non-fiction. Which comes most easily to you?

 All of the above. I’m an eclectic, the kind of person that likes most everything (except for boredom, which is too boring to like).

If there were no barriers, what would you like to do / be / have?

My wife and I would buy a neighboring condo to give us more space; and to be able to travel more than we do, which a limited budget doesn’t permit.

 Love the snippet on your blog about the limping man and the rock in his shoe which prevents him from changing direction in his life. Apart from writing and guiding people into peaceful directions, what are your favourite interests?

Music (world music, jazz, classical, popular); reading, spending time with my wife; going to the ocean and gazing out over the sea (I grew up doing that), talking with people; sitting at Starbucks listening to all the chatter while reading and letting my thoughts drift where they wish; justice; talking with friends and family on Skype; living each day and enjoying it.

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George’s Books: http://www.geogepolleyauthor.com/ 

George’s Website: http://georgepolleywriter.wordpress.com/

 

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Like a Giant Turtle I Crawl Crabwise

Gnarabup.  Is it really a fortnight since I last walked? I have been to a couple of bird hides in Busselton and Bunbury in the meantime, though.

It is 9km from Gnarabup down to Redgate. The weather has turned cool and I’m not sure of the time it will take, so I decide to go in the morning, starting with a long uphill hike to the tanks and towers above Prevelly Park south of the Margaret River.

I march 3 km along an undulating 4WD track in the middle of a wide firebreak, the bush always just that little bit too high to allow wide sweeping views. Large shoe prints in the soft sand going the opposite way make me wonder what giant of a man has taken such enormous strides. A discreet cough from behind makes me turn in surprise and a lanky long-distance runner lopes past.

“I didn’t want to frighten you!” he says with an apologetic smile and no alteration in his stride. Comparison of the two sets of prints confirm that it is indeed he who is the giant.

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Once off the motor track, hoof prints and horse droppings accompany me on an attractive path along a ridge overlooking fields of pasture and vineyards on my left, and thundering cliff tops to the west. A couple of viewpoints allow me to stop, marvel and take a rest. Then a very steep path, punctuated by comforting solid round logs as steps, plunges downwards in a spiral to Boodjidup Brook.

I pause below the canopy, surprising a delightful number of twittering fantails, silvereyes and a lizard or two.  The brook below me is stagnant as I cross a high metal bridge (Click here for a panoramic view!), to follow the faint path along the south of the water course to the sea. It seems I will never get there.

The wind is full of sand and fine granules mixed with spray whip into my face. For a short stretch I am protected by the soft dunes, but I can find no track markers. The prickly bush is impenetrable in places and the notes tell me to follow the beach for three km.

Fearful lest I should get lost in the dunes, and already behind schedule for meeting Roy, who is never good at waiting, I decide to brave the beach. I am rewarded by a great sighting of an osprey soaring over a tidal pool, then landing for a leisurely bathe. But I dare not linger for too long. The wind hits me as I flounder in the soft slipping sand above the high tide breakers. I think of goggled mountaineers tramping through deep snow while a blizzard rages about them. Fine sand sticks to my face, my sunglasses steam up, and leaning heavily into the wind, I come towards a sheer bank sloping steeply upwards into a dune. The waves crash hungrily a meter or so away. No occasional tufted grass here to provide a precarious foothold.  I remember warnings in Albany about notorious king waves. No way am I going straight on. Above me towers the bush-capped dune.

I turn inland, my boots submerging in the deep sand as I struggle upwards. A large clump of grass gives way under me and I land back to where I’d started. There is nothing else for it: I drop to all fours and, with my pack on my back like a giant turtle I crawl crabwise, floundering up the sliding sand. It takes me an age, and panic is not far away; but I reach the ridge, where I empty my boots of sand. The firmer going allows me past the obstacle until the prickly bush forces me again onto the beach.

A final laborious trudge round a rocky point, and I see Roy’s Ute move away from the car park on the cliff high above me. Ten minutes and a hard upward slog later, he is still not back, but at least I have time to drain my water bottle and gather my breath.

It has taken me nearly four long hours.

 

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You Need to Learn How to Give Speeches…

Great minds think alike (No … we’re not fools)! – Or rather, I’m a greater fool than Miriam Drori, as it’s taken me more months to get around to joining an amazing Institution. It’s great fun, and you learn sooo much. Let Miriam tell you about it.

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2nd February 2014. I was in a state of euphoria when the news came. Crooked Cat was going to publish my novel. Everything I’d been working towards for ten years. A dream come true.

Other Half was more practical. “You need to learn how to give speeches and interviews,” he said, somewhat dampening my euphoric state. You need to appear on programmes like “Open Book” and “Woman’s Hour” he said. My mood took another downturn.  Before depression set in, I took myself in hand. Speeches – OK. I’ve given presentations before. I should be able to write and present speeches. Interviews – a different kettle of fish altogether.

You see, I have this problem. It’s called social anxiety, which I like to define as: a fear of people and especially of what those people think of me. I’ve written more about it elsewhere, but just want to mention here that if you think most people are like that then you’re right, but most people don’t have social anxiety because that depends on how much it affects your life. And if you think someone with social anxiety can’t enjoy giving speeches, then I’d say you’re confusing social anxiety with shyness. That’s easily done because most people with social anxiety are also shy.

So… interviews. How could I learn to do them? I posted on a local forum and received lots of replies. All the respondents wanted to tutor me privately on the art of interview- and speech-giving. None of them mentioned fees, but I expect they would have been considerable. One response said something else: “I wonder if there’s a Toastmasters club in Israel.”

I had a search and discovered one Toastmasters International Club in the whole country, which happens to be in Modi’in – half an hour’s drive away. I could manage that. I went along to a meeting and liked what I saw. The meeting consisted mostly of planned speeches and shorter impromptu talks. Some of the members were very adept at speech-giving; others less so. I didn’t feel too intimidated.

Toastmasters Award

About four months on, I’m a member, I attend regularly and I’ve given one prepared speech, which didn’t go quite as well as I’d expected. The date of the speech was brought forward and I didn’t have enough time to prepare. But I got through it all right. The impromptu talks, called table topics, are much harder, I find. I haven’t got the hang of those yet, but hope I will. At each meeting, there are various tasks. I have told a joke, quizzed members to check they’ve been listening and will soon be the grammarian. The last role involves introducing the word of the day (which members try to bring into their talks) and reporting on ums and ahs (which are considered not good).

All the long-time members have said how much Toastmasters has helped them and I’m hoping it’ll help me, too. “Open Book” here I come!

Bio

Miriam Drori was born and brought up in London, and now lives in Jerusalem where her daughter has left her to hold the female fort against three males.

Following careers as a computer programmer and a technical writer, Miriam has been writing creatively for the past ten years and has had short stories published online and in anthologies. Neither Here Nor There, published on 17 June 2014, is her first published novel.

Miriam began writing in order to raise awareness of social anxiety. Since then the scope of her writing has widened, but she hasn’t lost sight of her original goal.

Links

Miriam’s website: http://miriamdrori.com/

NeitherHereNorThereCover

Neither Here Nor There is available from:

Crooked Cat Books

Amazon

Smashwords

 

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No Room to Dodge the Kangaroos

No pictures this week. The scenery is so vast, so dramatic, it is difficult to capture in a photograph. I prefer to walk, letting my thoughts come and go at will, as I commune with nature.

World traveller

February 2002 Wilyabrup.  This time I start early in the afternoon and head south to Gracetown, making the 12.5km in just over three hours – I’m getting fitter.

A lovely varied walk, behind the Wilyabrup cliffs through undulating grass and woodland with a steep dive to the beach; I ford the trickle of Biljedup Brook, and scramble up the other side. Impenetrable bush, shoulder high, encroaches on the path to scratch my arms and legs, but allows glimpses of the sea to my right. The thunderous sound of invisible waves dashing against the rocks far below, fills my ears.

A large incongruous Asian-type house with flat roof looms ahead and another steep trail – this time conveniently stepped with thick logs – takes me down to the beach. I flounder in the soft sand of a broken dune, behind which the ocean thunders menacingly. A lone surfer appears to sit on the sand and ponder the scene. We exchange pleasantries. It’s always nice to meet someone, who might remember should disaster strike and a search party want to know… there are many kangaroo tracks and droppings along the cliff path, and no room to dodge should we come face to face. What would I do? Throw my backpack and hope it lands white side up on the prickly bush to mark the spot. (I am later told they just run away).

The path is very overgrown but marked with intermittent cape-to-cape posts. In my preoccupation I almost tread on a fat blue-tongue lizard lying doggo beneath a knee-high overhang of bush. Ugh.

I join an unused 4wd track which winds through lower bush. It must look beautiful when in spring flower.  Birds chirp and flit in the evening air – mostly honeyeaters. I disturb a quail of sorts which quickly disappears into the bush. Opposite some tumbled rocks where cormorants perch in silhouettes against the sea, the path leaves the road.

Welcome markers, each visible from the one before, guide me in devious wobbles as I negotiate rocks, wet mossy cracks, and small crevices below some low cliffs. Boulders of all sizes, weathered through the ages, lie in tumbled layers. Against them the breakers continuously crash, at intervals throwing up a gigantic spume of spray.

Two surfers clamber down through the boulders, hugging their boards as I approach. Further on, I turn to watch them catch the waves unerringly every time. They stand upright with triumphant shouts and zig-zag in front of the curl as the surf thunders down. Just before it seems they will be dashed against the treacherous rocks, they submerge, float out behind the wave, and head seawards again to look for another.

A short stumpy walk over yet another headland, and the sound of traffic heralds the road into Gracetown.

In the evening Annette and I go to a friends’ house for a ladies’ get-together while the men stay at home to do their thing (watch cricket and drink beer). We give each other foot massages and foot baths; I sleep well that night.

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I Don’t Feel Like a Writer..

You soon will, Lisa!

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Lisa Dyer is another find on the fast-growing list of successful Crooked Cat authors, and after reading this story of her journey to publication, I can’t wait to get my hands on her book, which was published last December. The links to stop-off points on her journey may well inspire others with leanings towards script-writing.

book cover

I’m still getting used to the idea of having a book published. It’s just over a year now since I got the email from Crooked Cat saying that they wanted to publish Since You’ve Been Gone and it’s been a rather strange experience.

Firstly, I had to get used to the idea that my ‘baby’ was not mine any longer. Others would see it and have opinions, good, bad, or indifferent on it. I was never very good at explaining the plot to people. The moment you (or you big mouthed mate) blurts out that you are getting/have been published the first question – generally – is ‘what’s it about?’ Natural curiosity, of course, it is just I usually shrivel at that point and get rather embarrassed. And there’s good reason for this – I don’t feel like a writer!

I’ll tell you a story…before Since You’ve Been Gone (the novel) I wrote scripts. That sounds far grander than it is…I’ve yet to sell anything! My logic went like this. I wanted to tell stories but I had a rather nasty experience with a so-called ‘book doctor’ who savaged my first attempt at novel and sent me scuttling for cover. So, once the wounds were licked I turned my attention to the matter of script writing. I thought it may be an easier way to express my inner story teller.

My first attempt at writing a script was on the subject matter of wolf rehabilitation in the US. I think I stumbled upon the idea through an article on the subject and wove a story from there. This first script managed to get through several rounds of a prestigious international screenwriting contest.

Buoyed by ‘success’, I set about writing a pilot for television. What I really, really wanted to do was look at the Arthurian legends, use Mort D’Arthur as a basis but set the story in a true historical context. I wanted to create a real landscape; the landscape of sub-Roman Britain. A time when order has broken down, factionalization is beginning to happen once more, hill forts are being re-established and war-lords are rising up. I complete the script and then I read about the Red Planet Prize.

The Red Planet Prize was set up by Tony Jordon (Life on Mars/EastEnders/Hustle to name but a few). I entered (the first round meant just the first ten pages). Out of 1100 entries, the judges discarded 1000 and asked just 100 entrants to send in the full script. I made the cut. From those 100 entries, 20 were selected for the final….I made the cut. I didn’t win but it didn’t matter because Tony Jordon invited all 20 finalists to his production office and offered us mentoring, a way in, an unlimited access to his team.

It was an interesting experience but it didn’t really lead anywhere. One of the finalists, Rob Thorogood went on to have his script commissioned by Red Planet Productions. You may know it…Death in Paradise.

I turned my attention to writing another full-length script and chose a subject matter close to my heart…going home. I moved from my home town of Dover in 2000 and I often found that when I went back the sense of belonging, of memories, of comfort, overwhelmed me and I wanted to try and capture that. The story of Hal and Abigail went through many changes. The original ending was very different from the one that it has now. I entered it into Prequel to Cannes and to my surprise, it won second place and a cheque for £100.

Shortly after that, I entered it into the BAFTA/Rocliffe New Writers Forum, a heavily contested event due to the association with Bafta. They pick only 25 scripts from those submitted to go into contest and Since You’ve Been Gone (the script) was one of them. It was an amazing achievement.

It was then I decided to adapt it as a novel and the rest, as they say, is history.

Currently I am working on a new story The Winter Rose. This indulges my love of history and archaeology by featuring an archaeologist. I’ve dubbed it a supernatural romance time travelling murder mystery and I’m having a whale of a time writing it.

I also have a YA novel which is languishing on the computer but is about ten chapters in. I’m hoping to finish this off very soon. It’s a ghost story of sorts.

Lastly I have notes galore for another novel which is set in a museum. This is very, very embryonic at the moment.

I don’t really have any plans to write any more scripts. The main script I have that I would love to sell is called Fifty-Five and tells the story of Florence White who headed one of the largest women’s social reform movements of the 30s. My dream is to see Imelda Staunton in the role of Florence! Sadly, this may remain a dream for a while!

 ***

Lisa was born and raised in Dover but moved to Colchester in 2000. Most of her adult life has been spent lurking in castles – firstly Dover Castle as Senior Custodian and then at Colchester Castle as part of the Colchester and Ipswich Museum Service.

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My day job when I was on secondment to a project called Unlocked with the Colchester and Ipswich Museum Service.

Lisa is working on a degree in archaeology through the University of Leicester.

Please feel free to visit her website and find out more about her writing at

 http:// ticklebellyalley.weebly.com

or find her on

Facebook at www.facebook.com/pages/Lisa-Dyer

Twitter at https://twitter.com/lisadyerauthor

 

 

 

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Crooked Cat at Edinburgh Bookfest 2014

Stephanie Patterson's avatarCrooked Cats' Cradle

Are you in Edinburgh? Are you planning to visit the Edinburgh Book Festival?

If you’re not, you should! The Cat is there! 🙂

In the bookstore at the Bookfest, you will find three shelves with a selection of popular and best-selling Crooked Cat books! Romantic and historical fiction, crime novels and thrillers. Take your pick!

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We also have a shelf with exciting books for kids and young adults. Adventures await.

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Please let us know what you think. And if you can’t make it this year, why not spread the word!?

The Cats would be a very grateful bunch…

Happy reading!

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I Still Manage to Swallow Two Flies

It is New Year 2002, and I am enjoying the solitary freedom of my coastal walks. The family are planning a visit to Ellensbrook House, a WA Pioneers’ Museum, so I get them to drop me off at the north point of Cowaramup Bay (I love these names).

Ellensbrook House

I follow the beach, then climb up behind south point, past Gracetown, and along a long inland path with great views of the surf and surfers in several places below. It is not easy finding Ellensbrook House, 7k and two-and-a-half hours later, but after a bit of bundu-bashing (swahili for bush-pushing), I avoid walking right past it.

A thunderstorm looms, but luckily blows over. A thankful rest and lunch at this simple historic place, then an amble with the kids to Meekadarabee Cave.

The following week, Roy and I visit Cape Leeuwin while the family make camp up the Blackwood river. I walk the uneven rocky path northward for 3k (one hour) to Skippy Rock and see oyster catchers and curlews for the first time. It is a lovely scramble in the cool of the evening.

Very different in the heat of the midday sun is the 7k walk the next day from Hamelin Bay to Cosy Corner. It is a spectacular view to Hamelin island from the rocky point, consisting of soft pancake rocks cordoned off for safety.Then a challenging trudge for 1k through soft sand and a laborious two-steps-forward-one-back off the beach to join a faint 4-wheel drive track inland through wild shoulder-high bush full of flies (thank goodness for my Christmas present from Col & Annette: a fly-veil).

Cosy Corner Walkway to Cosy Corner Beach, Torbay

Cosy Corner Walkway to Cosy Corner Beach, Torbay

Heat, maddening undulations and no view until just before the lighthouse where I sit on a bench to munch some lunch. I still manage to swallow two flies.Then down again to meet Roy on the road to Cosy Corner. Heat, sweat, and little breeze.

Starting at 4 p.m. this time from Sugarloaf Rock, I walk along a pleasant cliff-top path with great views to the “Three Bears” (popular coves providing varying levels of waves) where I meet a couple of surfers who don’t think much of the day’s waves. Thereafter it is a tedious trudge along an inland 4wd track with brief glimpses of the sea. The going is soft sand throughout and black dirt clings to my feet and legs.

Three hours later I arrive in Yallingup, ending with a long trudge along the soft beach to meet the family for fish ‘n chips in the sunset. Afternoon walking is most definitely the answer in the increasing temperatures of the Australian summer.

Another most enjoyable evening is a 9k walk along a 4wd cliff-top track from Cape Clairault to Moses Rock with the ocean thundering below. Towards the end, I paddle through Quininup Brook as it trickles down the beach where large waves heap and break in deep basins creating mighty undertows. Then atop the cliffs again I go among bulrush-type banksias in red-soil marshland to the Moses Rock car park.

46ks walked out of a possible 136!

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Around and About on Ailsa’s Birthday

This is a great birthday present from Jane. I always like coming to visit on her blog and as tomorrow is my birthday she has let me run mad with my imagination. The Birthday Fairy is going to grant me whatever I want as long as I tell you all about it…well that’s my night of unbridled wossit with Cap’n Jack Sparrow dismissed then! This is a respectable blog site.

What I’d really like is an open ticket to go travelling for the next year. That won’t surprise most of you.

What might surprise you is where I want to go and that is BACK. I don’t just want to travel in space, I’d like to go to the time that I was there too. There is a wonderful word my friend Nettie has used for “homesick for a place that no longer exists” and that I think we have all experienced through the passage of time. For Jane it might be the Africa of her younger days…

Mousehole

My idyllic childhood in Mousehole, Cornwall, would be my first stop, where it seemed to be endless summer and we water-babies scared the be-hoozus out of tourists by leaping off the end of the harbour wall with whoops and yells, only to bob up laughing, climb the steps and do it all again.

STag

Were I allowed to cheat and time travel outside of my own lifetime I would write a book but I’d obviously have to go back to Scotland, the homeland. Land of my Mothers (we’re a matriarchal bunch, we clans) and wish that when I lived there I wasn’t such a sickly kid. Tramping through the hills that started at the back of my garden and taking in the views as a grown up, but in those pre-thundering traffic days would be a treat.

GOANNA

Australia jumped to mind. I was lucky enough in my twenties to be with Shell Tankers and pay fleeting visits to undreamed-of countries. Tantalising tasters of places to return…like Port Hedland in the North West Territories. A meat packing station at the end of a railway line with the shops and houses that had grown up around it. How it was in the very early 80s. To the extent that as a “stranger in town” I got well known in two days. I want to go back but I don’t want it to have changed. My china mug should still be in the fabric shop and maybe this time I’ll buy both cotton prints…. yards and yards of both of them!

Think of Singapore and you get entirely the wrong picture of my dream. Bukum Island was owned by Shell and housed a refinery, berths, two clubs and a few shops. That was MY Singapore. “John” at the shop knew that if he gave Europeans an ice cold 7-Up as they went in, they’d be honour bound to buy something. He taught me to haggle. I didn’t have any money on me at all, so when I told him, wide-eyed and truthful, that the happy-coat was worth every cent of the 25 dollars he wanted for it, I wasn’t kidding. It was beautiful. We got down to 5 dollars and eventually, in tears, he wrapped it up and gave it to me as a gift because he’d never met anyone who could haggle that well. I couldn’t have done it if I’d had a single dollar in my pocket.

Camden market

I’d end up the age I am now and in London. Although I’m a country girl and don’t “do” cities, I love London. As a student there for three years I was too broke, young and homesick to appreciate it and Camden Market, my spiritual home, wasn’t what it is now. I’d throw the biggest birthday party there, steam-punk and outlandish dress obligatory and finish off my year-round travel where I’d like to be most in the world. Back where it all started when I was 18.

 Riga

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AILSA!

Ailsa Abraham, author of Amazon best- seller, Alchemy and award-nominated Shaman’s Drum
Click on links to buy in eBook or paperback format.

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Back-pack On The Ground Please, Ma’am

Colin and I travel on different flights from Sydney to Perth because for some reason Quantas refused to change our tickets – all the more annoying as there is a vacant seat beside me.

When checking in, the Xray “tings” my back-pack. I forgot to transfer my scissors into my suitcase, so have to surrender them. Arrived in Perth and waiting at the luggage carousel, I notice a dog sitting at my side, and lean over to give it a pat. An official approaches.

“Will you put your back-pack on the ground please Ma’am.”

The beagle literally lies on top of the bag, rolling over on her back and rubbing luxuriously.

“Any plants, soil or food in there?”

“No . .. Oh yes!”

I draw out two old muesli bars in plastic, somewhat crumpled, but still the beagle bends onto her shoulder and rolls over.

“Have you had any fruit in there in the past?”

“Not really,” but about two days ago, I tell her, I’d put a banana there before eating it.

“That’s it, then; no problem. Good GIRL!” The official enthusiastically pats her dog, clips on the lead and walks away.

I wake up the following morning, and from my bedroom balcony in the Nichol’s home, the rising sun shadows Perth’s skyscrapers across the still waters of the Swan River.

Peace and tranquility (except for someone’s lawn mower below me). In the bosom of my family, now, I dont expect to be writing a dairy for a while, for Roy and Dennis have arrived for Christmas. But I’m a very proud mum when Kathy and her five year-old grey mare come third in the West Australian indoor Novice Dressage Championships in Perth one weekend.

Perth & Gem (640x393)

Kathy on Calgan Calypso

By the first week of January I feel I am at last beginning to get to know my grandchildren (didn’t realise how difficult that was going to be: ages 2 up to 8 year-olds still cling to Mummy’s apron strings, and “strange” grandparents don’t come naturally). However, a few days here and there completely alone with the kids work wonders. And we’re re-familiarising ourselves rapidly with dodgem cars, children’s train rides, playgrounds and swimming-pools, not to mention sandy beaches and sea-water (brrrrrr .. Even in summer). And I see the first Harry Potter film.

Perth Xmas 2001 (640x393)

The family, Christmas 2001

I go on some enjoyable walks. West Australia really is a great country, especially in the summer, and the walks are easy to find and follow with maps and descriptions available in the information centres.

I am here for three months and my goal is to cover most of the Cape (Naturaliste) to Cape (Leeuwin) track – 136 ks comprising the little straight jutting-out bit of south west Australia coastline from Dunsborough to Augusta. There are five well-designed and informative guide maps for this track.

But to acclimatise, I walk southwards from Colin & Annette’s home in Busselton along the beach path (spiders’ webs, flies, a tarmac path the only alternative to soft going on the sandy beach). That, and northwards to the Busselton pier are good warm-ups. The two mile walk along the pier and back does my back no good at all. I must keep away from hard ground in future, if that’s possible.

A seven kilometre hike from Dunsborough to Eagle Bay – not part of the cape-to-cape track – provides a good mix of beach, points, and inland paths. Roy drops me at the start, but then gets lost in the car and is late collecting me in Eagle Bay, so I have lunch in a little roadside café and wonder what has happened to him. We don’t yet use mobile phones.

The first leg of my target – Cape Naturaliste to Sugarloaf Rock – lasts a gentle, uneventful hour on inland paths with good views to the sea. This time, Roy is at our meeting place on time.

The track from Yallingup to Wyadup (6k) takes me behind Torpedo Rock, along the 2k stretch of beautiful Smiths Beach (good for the calves) then a scramble over the Canal Rocks and cliffs where I lose the trail several times; then up through thick bush to the Rotary look out and down, along more cliffs and a steep rocky path to Wyadup.

(I really recommend you click on the links to these places: the pictures I took were few, and the scenery is amazing).

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Children of All Ages Will Enjoy Maretha’s Books

An exciting new author is visiting me today. Maretha Botha has recently moved from Africa to the UK and I can relate so much to the great upheaval she has experienced.

MarethaBotha

Maretha – I just loved your children’s book “Flame and Hope, An African Adventure”, which gained Gold Medal status on Authonomy. Please tell us how this peer review website has helped / hindered your career as a writer.

The best advice comes from experienced writers who are interested to help “newbies” like myself.

My love of description caused me to stumble – telling too much and showing too little.  Thinking about the setting and background of my story, I had an endless list of descriptions – early morning noises, midday siestas, incredible sunsets; animals walking by, birds twittering and flying in the sky. This thing which I loved so much often became a big stumbling block. So I had to learn how to integrate my love of description into the story itself, making it part of the plot.

Of course, to do this is not easy, but when two authors on Authonomy pointed it out to me – very tactfully, I might add – I accepted the challenge and moved all descriptive sections to a special file until I could find a useful setting, integrating description with monologue or dialogue or some sort of action; that sometimes meant letting go of a beloved chapter.

Another positive aspect coming from such websites is making friends with writers from all over the world who support one another through thick and thin when it comes to marketing and publishing one’s book, as well as give positive encouragement in a very competitive field.

But Authonomy is no exception to downsides. We have to spend significant time reading, commenting and writing reviews on other authors’ work.  If you don’t get involved, there isn’t much opportunity to move towards the coveted Editor’s desk, get reviews or gain a better ranking for your book.  I spent the best part of two and a half years doing just that, which meant less writing, editing or proofreading of my own work.  Once I reached the editor’s desk in September 2013, the real wait began as I have not received a review yet.  So my aim to get an unsolicited manuscript through the “slush-pile” to be read by a reputable children’s editor has not materialised!

When I moved to the UK 13 years ago, I thought it would be a good opportunity to write, and to try and find a publisher for “Breath of Africa”. I suffered 72 rejections (and that’s not counting no-replies) and it took me 12 years to succeed. I wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone. What are your plans for your book?

Firstly, I’ve shortened the title to “Flame and Hope, an African Adventure” after seeing dozens of books with ‘African Adventures’ in their titles on-line. My book will appear on Amazon this week.

Congratulations, Maretha! And are you working on another children’s book?

The second in the series is called, “Friends and Foes, an African Adventure” and the action begins where “Flame and Hope” left off. I hope to get it ready for publication in the New Year.

Would you consider trying another genre?

I have two novels in the pipeline, one called “From Cape to Cairo”. I find it useful to take a break and live in another time frame. I do research, write a chapter or simply jot down points to do with developing a scene or a new character. The other is a Young Adult, short romantic novel with some mystery and mountaineering.

What are your most / least favourite things about being a writer?

Being a writer gives me the opportunity to daydream, get lost in the world of a character and manipulate things the way I want them to be.  I like sitting at my desk – these days I’m trying to stand – shut out the noise and get on with creating an unforgettable moment in time.  When a story is completed and it all makes sense, it gives me great satisfaction and a sense of achievement.

My least favourite thing is the necessity of marketing my own work and learning about the time consuming aspects of the publishing process. These are essential but unavoidable, like a final exam.

Please tell us about your profession, and how it relates to your love of books.

I studied Library and Information Science as well as Bibliology (knowledge of books and libraries through the ages), English and Italian, at the University of South Africa.  I have worked as a research librarian for an oil research facility, but my most enjoyable post was working at a private school in Gaborone, Botswana. Associating with and teaching children aged 5-18 helped me to find my “inner-child personality” again.  It meant getting down to serious writing, not just an odd short story here and there.

During the past two years I’ve researched the habits, needs and territories of birds of prey and smaller birds in southern Africa, using this information as a background for ”Flame and Hope, an African Adventure” – stories with a specific main plot throughout – based on fact and personal observation.

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We saw fish eagles almost every day near Mmokolodi Game Reserve.

Caring for the environment, protecting the habitats of so-called “lesser” birds and smaller animals is important to me. Seeing domestic animals neglected and left to their own devices is something I detest and I tried to impress these sentiments on the minds of students and readers without preaching to them.  Change must come from the heart.

Based on that, I think I’ve written something children of all ages will enjoy.

Living for so long in Africa, I’m not surprised you’re a lover of nature. Please describe for us something which has filled you with wonder and inspiration – and send a picture if you can?

 

There are many incredible places to visit in South Africa, whether you go by car or decide to put on your hiking boots.  I love the mountains in the Western Cape.  They have this hazy, blue, misty look early in the morning and during winter they are covered in snow – our own little Switzerland.  This area also provides beautiful vistas of vines, orchards and natural land- and seascapes.  Table Mountain itself remains etched in my mind forever.

capetown

Sunset over Table Mountain as seen from across the bay from a place called Blouberg (literally Blue Mountain)

There were good reasons why we couldn’t live in Botswana any more, having gainful employment for one. We stayed on longer than intended and saw a miracle. Believe it or not, there are modern miracles which leave the recipients in awe and dead silence. This miracle lingered for seven days. Each morning, just as the sun lit the crest of Kgale Hill, the first snowflakes – perhaps not an appropriate name to use in such a hot part of the world – appeared, bouncing effortlessly across the air waves. Sometimes they slipped across the rooftop and at other times they lightly touched the grass sprouts, shimmering in the rays of the early morning sun. So perhaps I should call them cotton buds or early plum blossoms. It’s a difficult thing to describe – seeing the wonder of thousands of butterflies fluttering about all at once. I could only feel it, standing among them as they lightly fluttered from one little yellow veld flower to the next – opening  and shutting their dainty, quivering wings – getting enough solar energy to keep moving east. At night they rested in nearby trees and when the moonlight shone on their wings, the trees looked as if they had grown white flowers.

What a wonderful description! You moved to the UK comparatively recently. Might you share some of the challenges and the good things about your move? I’m sure I will relate well to what you have to say!

The challenge lay in making the decision to move, then to sell up and pack up.  It took serious effort to complete all necessary documentation. After our arrival, we faced the big wait for National Insurance Numbers, going to numerous appointments whether to have a screen test, blood test or going for work interviews and filling in countless applications.  For about eight months we lived on tenterhooks, hoping that the money we expected from the sale of our small business would be available. We found a small one-bedroomed flat. To go to smaller accommodation and decide what to keep and what to discard was another big challenge – and where to put everything.  We are just very grateful, that despite our South African accents, everyone seems to understand us, so that in itself helps me not to feel too much like a foreigner!

The weather has been a good thing – believe it or not.  In Botswana it’s mostly hot, dry and dusty.  I grew up in the Western Cape, South Africa where winters are cold, wet and very windy, with snow on the mountains.  Therefore the Lancashire weather makes me feel right at home.

Please tell us about your interests apart from writing

I’m a keen gardener and animal lover – especially dogs, cats and wild birds – and I spend hours watching them from my kitchen window. It’s a real pleasure to plant things which have a good chance of growing well and not dying on me, because of extreme heat.  I’m an ardent environmentalist and strive for a bee- and insect-friendly garden.

I used to love rock-climbing and mountaineering.  Nowadays I’m confined to hiking on the moors, but I’m not complaining. The strong winds out there quickly clear cobwebs and the vistas provide food for thought.

We have two grandchildren and spend much time with them reading and listening to their stories.  So there’s always hope that they might take up writing or illustrating one day!

I’ve had to revive my love for painting and drawing, as my book needed a few illustrations.

Flame & Hope - Skewed Top BoxI’ve only recently managed to find my way around cyberspace without getting lost too often. “Flame and Hope An African Adventure” can now be bought from Amazon http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00MNKNI04

Thank you for inviting me to be interviewed on your blog, Jane.  It’s a grand privilege!

It’s a pleasure meeting you, Maretha, and may the rest of the world enjoy your lovely children’s stories.

Maretha’s blog: http://marethabothablog.wordpress.com/

 

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