Getting Into People’s Heads

Posted on April 22, 2014 by jbwye

I am delighted to introduce authonomy friend, Rosalind Minett today. I have always admired her dogged perseverance with her writings; she is an example to us all.

Image

Thank you, Jane, for inviting me to be a guest on your blog. Nowadays I think of myself as a writer. It’s how I spend my time, reviewing, blogging, writing and above all, re-writing. I would really have liked to be a character actor. At university level, I wanted to read English Literature but another career as a chartered psychologist intervened. It has influenced my writing as I’m told my strength is being able to get into peoples’ heads.

I worked with adults and children over their learning, behaviour, and/or understanding, their parenting and their career aspirations. I was frequently in the Crown Courts, work that involved direct contact for psychological assessment (sometimes in odd situations), research, copious reading of documents, writing of lengthy reports and finally, appearance in the witness box (not to be recommended for those of nervous disposition). Altogether, a rich experience of a multitude of characters, from barristers to rogues to the vulnerable in distress.

It’s true that as a reader, I can’t really enjoy a book unless the characters are fully evolved. Despite the wonderful plots of Jeffrey Archer and Dan Brown, their cardboard characters leave me unsatisfied and uncommitted by the novels.

Because I prefer to read and write character-driven fiction, my writing blog is called Characterful Writer.  Although the posts may include various topics, such as about other art forms, I always have character development in mind. Whether writing fiction or non-fiction, I like to be entertaining and thought-provoking, to leave readers questioning their previous understandings. I particularly enjoy writing the sub-text of what people say or do. It’s quite difficult to let the reader ‘notice’ subtle clues, but it’s a challenge. My middle son always used to say I was ‘smiling behind my (unsmiling) mouth’, i.e. that I had a sub-text. If anything does characterise my writing, I suppose it is that.

Image                         Image

With my novels, I research any factual sections in a library or online.  E.g. How many years might it take a scientific officer to become a senior scientific officer. The first one to see the light of day, very soon now, will be A Relative Invasion, a story about boyhood rivalry, set in WW2. The second is about adult male twins caught up in a domestic mystery (The Parody). The third is about a favoured family whose child inexplicably stops talking (Speechless).

Although it is my three novels that I am keen to get fledged, I have published a collection of short stories as my way of dipping my toe in the writerly waters.

Image

Me-Time Tales: Tea-breaks for mature women and curious men, ironic short stories with a dark edge. All kinds of women unlocked and revealing their different situations and dilemmas.  Middle aged Mrs W. makes a strange theft in a well-woman clinic, teenaged tattooed Jess risks losing a date because of her insistence on the shape of his legs, Elaine faces a moral dilemma but is no push-over.

Me-time Tales were written at different times and in different places over a long period. Three years ago I saw that I could group certain of my short stories under one heading to make a collection. I thought about a title that encapsulated something that the stories had in common. I decided this common factor was self-absorption and ‘Me-Time’ popped into my head – mainly because of my irritation over seeing this ‘need’ perpetrated everywhere. The book became Me-Time Tales, and I wrote a few more stories with that theme of self-absorption in mind to make the collection of a suitable size.

To market the book, I began its blog.  http://fictionalcharacterswriting.blogspot.com

The characters took over straight away and they determine its content.  They run well beyond their original stories, I’d say. I didn’t want the usual style of blog, so instead of an author photo I have an avatar. This refers cheekily to my interest in Art (forgive me Picasso) and also to my serious versus quirky self.

The best piece of advice I read before publication was this: After finishing writing the book, the hard work begins. As others have found, managing this blogging seriously cuts into writing time.

I’m glad to appear on Jane Bwye’s blog before my historical novel is even published, but I hope readers may be tempted to try Me-Time Tales meanwhile, whether they are women, or curious men.  Here are the links:

Paperback  http://amzn.to/1g4A22H       

KINDLE http://amzn.to/1fsSPtW KOBO http://bit.ly/1gmSlkh      

E-pub  http://bit.ly/1ePueza

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18808493-me—time-tales

Posted in Authors | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

An Untidy Mixture of Ancient and Modern

Posted on April 18, 2014 by jbwye

Image

Turkey is a strange untidy mixture of ancient and modern, which at first glance appears to work better in Cappadocia than on the South Mediterranean coast. Our trip was a chapter of misfortunes, but contained some amazing highlights.

After a late session at the bridge table the night before our journey, my phone rang. It was midnight. Mustafa told me our pickup time was 6.30 and not 7.30 am, and would I please notify the five other travellers in the hotel…

Riding in a brand new VW coach, we picked up another eight passengers from different hotels along the coast before finally embarking on the 6-700 km trip. Konya was the first major stop. We joined hundreds of pilgrims shuffling through the reverent atmosphere of the Mevlana Museum where many forms of the Koran were on display – parchment, scrolls, books and cameos. The allocated forty-five minutes sped by, and we were hustled back on board.

Akman, an excellent guide, got over the awkward bits in the beginning. He bullied us into buying all the extras of the trip, one of which was an “upgrade” to our hotel in Cappadocia, by recounting a sorry tale of one former customer who insisted on sticking to the original agreement and sorely regretting her decision. We all had to cash more Lira, which was of course no problem for Akman to arrange.

Image In Akseray, about an hour’s drive from our destination, things went wrong. The bus broke down, fittingly facing an open dustbin, and we waited on the roadside for an hour while Akman and the driver helplessly lifted the bonnet, and then called for a replacement.

We were bundled in haste into an ancient but serviceable replacement and driven at speed to watch some Whirling Dervishes performing their trance-like dance in a tiny circular theatre.  The haunting, wailing music brought everlasting scenes of sand dunes to my mind and the guttural chanting voices of the instrumentalists sounded like wind in the desert. Now I know the meaning of bible verses which refer to men “groaning” as they pray.

Image

At our hotel (a pleasant contrast to Bogaskent) there was further argument, over rooms this time. They had booked three double rooms for our party, even though we’d ordered one double and four singles. Kate and Jenny were travelling companions and Kelvin and Ann were married, so that was easy. Chris and I were left. Akman eyed us both with raised brows. He wanted an extra 7 Euros a night each if we insisted on separate rooms. That was outrageous. Well….? The implication was unmistakeable, and we snorted with indignation at even the suggestion of us sharing a room.

“Kate – are there three beds in your room?” I shouted as she headed off with her room key.

There were.

That was me settled.

But Akman still demanded 7 euros from Chris, despite the fact that three rooms now accommodated six people.

The supper was good, but the hotel did not even have a whole bottle of red wine for us to share.

The initial “all inclusive” cost of the trip was 85 Euros (260 Turkish Lira). We had to pay extras: 3 lunches – TL90; dervishes – TL75, Cultural evening TL75, Hotel “upgrade” TL18 (by the end we suspected this was the ultimate con, but what could we do?). We were cash cows being milked dry and felt like kicking back, if only because we had not been warned up front of the extras.

Image

Image

The next day was full. Akman whizzed us from viewpoint to viewpoint and we wandered through the amazing rock dwellings and castles.

Image

We even visited a rock church with its ancient frescoes at Gureme at the end of a pleasant walk along a path through the rocks. Akman retrieved a rusty key from its hiding place and opened the door. It was densely black inside.

“Come,” he beckoned.

We stepped blindly over the threshold and crowded in the tiny space.

“Dont worry, it will get brighter if you wait. Look up at the walls.”

We waited in silence, and watched while light filled the place, gradually revealing amazing colours. I took the photo without a flash.

Image  We crossed the Red River twice and were treated to a feast of beautiful Turkish decorated ceramics and watched the potter form a sugar bowl.

Image

We took pictures of “penis town” in Love Valley., and saw stones of many hues in a gemstone shop before an excellent lunch in Goreme – traditional Turkey beef casserole cooked in a clay pot, then yoghurt drizzled with apricot honey.

 

Image I had booked a horse-ride along a stream through a green valley; there were many rock houses, and I noticed one with a modern glass door set into the rock. We passed a tiny patch of wheat and a pocket-handkerchief vineyard. My bay pony was a willing and comfortable ride, the saddle new from Germany. But my guide’s father was ill in hospital, and when we got back, in his haste to get away I forgot to ask him to take a photo of me! But I was treated to delicious fresh baked bread stuffed with cheese, apricots on grape sauce and some apricot tea. Turkish hospitality is amazing (away from the tourist rat-race).

Image I caught up with the others at a carpet factory where beautiful silk carpets were twirled in a pile one after the other for us to admire. We did not buy.

We enjoyed a civilised start at 8 am the following morning. We’d missed our visit to an underground city the first day because of the transport problems, so Akman took us to a small one at Kirkgoz for a forty minute dash round.

Image

Chris and I tailed behind a noisy tourist group, and savoured the cool silence and peace. We spotted several fascinating round stones to seal off the tunnels against marauders. They had spy-holes in the middle and were far too heavy for us to budge.

I was still looking for a pair of peasant Turkish trousers, and found something at the shop, but they were too small. An irritable Akman collared me outside and marched me back to the coach; I was keeping everyone waiting.

ImageAt a nearby Karavanserie on the Silk Route (a caravan has to consist of at least one donkey and two camels – camels follow donkeys) I found a pair at TL30, and changed into them in the toilet.

This tickled Akman, who said tourists used to buy them, but no longer.

The driver raised his thumb at me in approval, and the market teller where I bought Roy some Turkish delight couldn’t stop giggling at the sight of me.

They are most cool and comfortable, and were my constant apparel for the remainder of the holiday.

 

Posted in Travels | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Making Journeys

Posted on April 15, 2014 by jbwye

Nancy Jardine is a most welcome return visitor to my blog. As I have been on my travels again, she suggested that her topic should be one about making journeys, especially as many long journeys were taken in her new book, which I am looking forward to read.

For CC (420x627)

In my latest novel, Book 3 of my Celtic Fervour Series of Historical Romantic Adventures, After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks, my characters make what would have been considered very long journeys for the era. To keep all straight in my own mind as I wrote the novel I also created maps, maps which though simply made, have been printed along with the novel for reader use and clarification

.Front cover

At the beginning of Book 3, my main Celtic character Brennus of Garrigill, who has been living away from his home hillfort of Garrigill for a couple of years, decides the time has come for him to return home to his brothers. At this point in the story, he has only been living at a distance of perhaps 100 miles at the Celtic roundhouse settlement of Witton but, in AD 73, that was a long trek from home. It was an especially dangerous trek since the area was infested with Roman patrols. Closer to Witton he would have encountered more Roman soldiers as Roman forts and fortresses were built in southern and mid Brigantia. Garrigill being closer to the northern border areas of the Brigantes and the Selgovae, meant a smaller Roman presence as the Roman Empire’s soldiers had not yet settled so far north in large numbers in AD 73.

After Whorl Donning Double Cloaks map (542x640)

The lighter Roman occupation did not last, though, and as the story of Book 3 progresses through the years to AD 78, more and more Roman forts sprang up in the northern areas and more and more exploratory Roman forces surged further north. In Book 3, After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks, Brennus continues to spy against Rome (under the guise of Bran of Witton) and becomes the pivot of the spy network when his King of the Brigantes, Venutius, is defeated. He regularly makes journeys around Brigantia and its neighbouring tribal areas but the time comes when he has to venture even further.

When the Roman legions under Agricola, Roman Governor of Britannia and Commander of the armies, march northwards in AD 78 Brennus is mostly one step ahead of the main troops as he seeks the one leader who will rally all the Celts of the north together and lead them into battle against Rome. Brennus finds he treks the length and breadth of present day southern and central Scotland but still does not find the man. He then journeys even further, all the way to the north-east, to present day Aberdeenshire, before he finds the man he seeks. Calgach, a Caledon tribal leader gathers the northern Celts and leads them in battle against Rome at the distinctive range of hills named Beinn Na Ciche (tip/breast of the mither).

Tribes in After Whorl Donning Double Cloaks

Whilst Brennus is making his own journeys, meeting up in places with his displaced Brigante family members who have also fled from the yoke of Rome, so, too, do my other main characters in Book 3 – Ineda and Gaius – make northwards treks.

In Book 2 After Whorl: Bran Reborn, the reader is introduced to Ineda of Marske, a young Celtic Woman who is a worthy accomplice of Brennus in spying against Rome. It is unfortunate for Ineda when she and the man she calls Bran are set upon by a Roman patrol. Ineda is taken prisoner and becomes the personal slave of a tribune of the XX Legion, Gaius Livanus Valerius.

As Book 3, After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks, progresses through the years between AD 73 and AD 78 Gaius is given different assignments by his Roman superiors and changes fort locations a few times. Ineda is given no choice and is forced to accompany him and when Gaius becomes charged with supplying the advance forces of Agricola during his northern campaigns, they also trek northwards. Ineda eventually finds herself in the lands of the Taexali, having finally been able to escape from the clutches of Rome. She’s seeking a group of fellow Brigantes that she has heard have already trekked northwards and are gathering with other Celts for battle at Beinn Na Ciche.

Dangerous journeys and dangerous times for all in Book 3 After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to describe my journeys today, Jane! It’s always a pleasure coming to visit you from my own base in north-east Scotland.

 

After Whorl: Donning Double Cloaks is available from:

Amazon.com    Amazon UK   Smashwords Barnes and Noble P/B   Crooked Cat Books 

Nancy Jardine’s novels can be found in paperback and ebook formats from:

Amazon UK author page   Amazon US author page Crooked Cat Bookstore; Waterstones; Barnes & Noble; Smashwords; W. H. Smith; and other book retailers.

Nancy can be found at the following places:   Blog  Website  Facebook Goodreads   About Me   LinkedIn  Twitter @nansjar Google+

Nancy’s writing time is shared with regular grandchild minding duties, tending her large garden, ancestry research and leisure reading. She’s currently writing a family saga based mainly in Scotland, and Book 4 of her Celtic Fervour series. She’s delighted to be able to share that Topaz Eyes (Crooked Cat Publishing) an ancestral-based mystery, is a finalist for THE PEOPLE’S BOOK PRIZE Fiction 2014.

Blurb:

Pursued by Rome.

AD73 Northern Britannia

After King Venutius’ defeat, Brennus of Garrigill – known as Bran – maintains a spy network monitoring Roman activity in Brigantia. Relative peace reigns till AD 78 when Roman Governor Agricola marches his legions to the far north. Brennus is always one step ahead of the Roman Army as he seeks the Caledon Celt who will lead all tribes in battle against Rome.

Ineda of Marske treks northwards with her master, Tribune Valerius, who is responsible for supplying Agricola’s northern campaigns. At Inchtuthil Roman Fort Ineda flees seeking fellow Brigantes congregating on the foothills of Beinn na Ciche.

Will the battle against the Romans bring Ineda and Brennus together again?

 

 

Posted in Authors | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

I Feel Like a Trapped Bird in a Cage

Posted on April 11, 2014 by jbwye

It’s such a long time since I told you of my visit to the Grand Canyon, I’m sure you won’t mind if I keep you waiting even longer for further Round-The-World excerpts…

…I’ve just been to Turkey. Must admit I had my misgivings about spending two solid weeks in the same hotel, and they were justified a hundredfold. Don’t get me wrong: it was a bridge holiday, and the bridge was great. But –

I feel like a trapped bird in a cage. The Siam Elegance Hotel – NOT in Belek, but in a new developing area called Bogazkent – is enormous and brim-full of package tourists (and the surrounds are certainly not pleasant green pastures).

Meals are a mayhem of cacophony, and the queues when the dinner doors open are horrendous. It is all self-service buffet, and the food is excellent, full of variety and exotic tastes. The choice is bewildering, but I soon learn to head for the counters with the shortest queues. Why oh why don’t they have several buffet outlets at different corners of the vast dining area?

But I’m going to enjoy experimenting, and expect I’ll be at least five pounds heavier at the end of the fortnight. One saving grace is that the salads are very good indeed.

Image

Pat is heaven-sent. She tells us not to jump at the tours on offer – she will look for more interesting, cheaper options, and three of us go with her to explore the “village”. An ordinary collection of shops, where we stop to enjoy delicious fresh pomegranate juice. I discover I won’t be able to visit Ephesus from here: too far. I buy myself some culottes; I really want ordinary Turkish trousers, such as the peasant women wear, but can’t find any. Nor can I find a cashpoint for Euros. Oh well, I’ll have to use Turkish lira instead.

I walk through the pleasant hotel gardens with many nooks for solitary sitters. The beach is clean in front of the hotel, grainy sand leading to pebbles under the washing waves, but lines and lines of loungers hold greasy sun-worshippers. I take off my shoes, but beyond the hotel beach it is not so clean, and an off-putting drain gurgles down the sand into the sea. The heavy sand scattered with pebbles plays havoc with my calf muscles as I trudge the mile or so towards a point which marks a slow moving river. I spot a couple of sparrows. Hotels are banking up their supply of brown sand, ready to spread over the trash in time for the approaching summer season.

Decades ago when we used to pad along the beaches of Kenya, scrunching our toes into the soft white sand and avoiding the scuttling crabs, we would look askance at the enormous luxury hotels which cropped up along the coast, catering for the myriads of package tourists from Europe. Their thick slimy bodies oozing with oil lounged on the terraces round fancy-shaped swimming pools and spilled onto the beaches. Why use a pool, when there was a wealth of sea around? And small businesses complained that these people from far off never spent their money locally – they had paid their all up front.

Now I’m seeing the other side of the picture, for I am one of those millions. But I shy away from the loungers lining the meagre sands three deep, facing the flat expanse of the gently moving sea. There seem to be no tides in the Mediterranean. And I feel hemmed in by people and their noise.

Image

I can’t get away from it soon enough, and hurry into a decision to join a tour. We visit a waterfall at Mavganet, and wander through the bazaar. More “shopping” at Side. In a carpet shop, Kate purchases an exotic hand-woven cushion cover and hands over her money, only for the proprietor to cast it to the floor with a flourish. I gasp. Is it a fake note? Is there going to be trouble in this intensely Muslim country? Hussein our guide turns to us.

“Do you know what this means?” he says. “He is passing down blessings – “  It is a symbol of rejoicing at the first buyer of the day.

Image

We stroll through some ancient ruins. My Rough Guide warns there isn’t much here: many broken boulders with bits of carvings. Hotchpotch  attempts at “restoring” the columns on the temple of Apollo. Our guide clearly doesn’t think much of the ruins, and tries to hasten us past the state agora, but we insist on entering it. We are late, and don’t reach our lunch venue until after 2pm.

CIMG1639 (359x640)

Aspendos is grand and imposing, with a beautiful view of the Taurus Mountains through the main gate. But renovations forbid us to enter the theatre and we climb the hill to view it from above, looking towards the back stage area.

CIMG1644 (640x359)

In the bright afternoon sunlight the restorations stand out in a motley picture of old and new and I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to leave the place in its naturally decaying form. But then, high profile operas and ballets are performed here in season, and maybe it all looks better at night when the new bits are not so easily spotted.

It was good to get away from the hotel for a day, but an excruciating sound invades my ears as I enter my room. The air-conditioning plant in the next door hotel lies just outside my window.

But hope is at hand, for there is a scheme afoot to go to Capadoccia.

 

Posted in Travels | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on I Feel Like a Trapped Bird in a Cage

I am delighted to host fellow-kitten, Catriona King once again – I have enjoyed every one of her Craig detective series, and await her venture into a new genre with interest (although I must admit I’ve been guilty of packaging espionage thrillers and crime novels together in my mind in the past). I’m looking forward to meeting you in the flesh at last, Catriona – in London on the 30th May!

Image

‘Why New York?’ might seem a strange title for a guest blog, but it’s very relevant to my next book, ‘The Carbon Trail’. After releasing five books in the Northern Ireland set Craig Crime Series, it would be natural for people to assume that I was a writer who would ‘stay put’, in terms of book locations, if not personal geography, and that my next book would once again be set in the country of my birth.

Image

But having decided to write a standalone novel, unrelated to the Craig Series, I wanted to challenge myself. Not only by writing in a different genre; espionage thriller as opposed to crime novel, and creating completely new characters; but also by choosing a location far away. So ‘The Carbon Trail’ came to be set in New York City and Long Island.

North America and Ireland have of course always had strong links, not only because of the large number of American citizens of Irish descent and strong communication links, but also in terms of America being a location that has  featured strongly for years on both Irish and British television. I grew up watching American movies as a child, as well as British. But that wasn’t the only reason why I chose New York as the location for ‘The Carbon Trail’. It was more personal than that.

My first knowledge of America came from watching television, and of New York in particular from watching ‘Cagney and Lacey’ chasing criminals through its skyscraper-ed streets. Every little girl in the 1980s wanted to be the intrepid lady cops, especially the glamorous Christine Cagney.  But it was the American links closer to home; tales of mysterious aunts and cousins who’d left Belfast long ago to seek their fortune in America, that really started my curiosity about the United States. And then, of course, there was Father Joe.

‘Father Joe’, as he was known, was a chaplain in the American Airforce who travelled far and wide, bringing comfort to the troops wherever they were posted. He was a friend of my mother’s and he visited my grandmother’s house on his trips home to Ireland when we were young. I remember the day I met him as if it was this week. Father Joe wore a smart brown-green uniform with ribbons on his chest, but most of all he wore a peaked cap.  That cap encompassed all the bravery of the movies and all the glamour and swagger of a casual salute. And I got to try it on!

I remember putting it on my little-girl curls and marching around the room with it on my head, hearing his words, words that I can still hear as clear as day, words that made all of us children adore him. “Give the kids some cookies, Katy”. Katy was my grandmother. I never saw Father Joe again after that day, but I hear that he’s still alive.

After that, America as an image, with its myriad stories and new things, was well and truly stamped on my brain. Even more so on one of my brothers’; he now lives outside San Francisco bringing up his children in the American way. San Francisco is beautiful but for thrillers and adventure there was only one place that I could set my thriller. New York City, New York State.  So good they named it twice. New York’s urban grit and realism was there in the 1980s for Cagney and Lacey and it’s still there today for Jeff Mitchell, my main character in ‘The Carbon Trail’. It provides the perfect backdrop for the espionage, murder and love that are about to touch his life.

THE CARBON TRAIL: THE MIND HAS NO LIMITS. Released in paperback and e-book on April 15th.

The Carbon Trail on Amazon.com: http://tinyurl.com/ngkpq95

The Carbon Trail on AmazonUK     http://tinyurl.com/pfz5gqj

The Craig Crime Series on Amazon.com http://tinyurl.com/os44kzq

The Craig Crime Series on AmazonUK http://tinyurl.com/p435ro4

Catriona’s website: www.catrionakingbooks.com

Catriona on Twitter: https://twitter.com/CatrionaKing1

Image

Posted on April 8, 2014 by jbwye | 2 Comments

2014 A to Z Challenge: B

Posted on April 2, 2014 by jbwye

Sue Barnard and I have been tagged in Miriam Dori’s blog!

Miriam Drori's avatarMiriam Drori, Author

AuthorsPair 1

Bill Bryson

Wikipedia says,

William McGuire “Bill” Bryson, OBE, FRS (born December 8, 1951) is a best-selling American author of humorous books on travel, as well as books on the English language and science. Born in America, he was a resident of Britain for most of his adult life before returning to the U.S. in 1995. In 2003 Bryson moved back to Britain, living in the old rectory of Wramplingham, Norfolk, and served as chancellor of Durham University from 2005 through 2011.

Bryson shot to prominence in the United Kingdom with the publication of Notes from a Small Island (1995), an exploration of Britain, and its accompanying television series. He received widespread recognition again with the publication of A Short History of Nearly Everything (2003), a book widely acclaimed for its accessible communication of science.

Sue Barnard

Crooked Cat says,

Sue Barnard lives by the…

View original post 649 more words

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on 2014 A to Z Challenge: B

Grand, It Certainly Is

Posted on March 14, 2014 by jbwye

ROUND THE WORLD WALKABOUT

Diary Excerpts.

Part 9. The Grand Canyon.

 15th September, 2001

America is vast, and after a long tedious drive we reach the Grand Canyon. Perhaps I’ve seen too many awesome sights, or have looked at enough pictures of this world wonder. It is a bit of a let-down, I suppose because I prefer to look upwards and admire high mountains which dominate the landscape. We arrive at a tourist centre and pitch our tents in a crowded camp site; long queues wait for turns at the showers. There’s nothing to titivate my anticipation and prepare me for what is to come. I’m reminded of the time I first approached the Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe: there was nothing to see but some wisps of vapour in a dreary flat landscape of scrub…

Image

Grand, it certainly is, but the people and cars scurrying about on the rim spoil the aura. We’re assured that because of the Twin Towers attack the crowds are nothing compared to usual, so I suppose I must be grateful. It is hazy. The sunset hides behind trees to the west. But the highlight of my evening are two California Condors circling majestically round a point just below us, creating midgets of the turkey vultures, which dart in and out of their path.

A variety of birds swoop over us, and I enjoy two peaceful morning hours sitting out on an exposed point with a couple of hawk watchers monitoring the migrating raptors, which fly southwards from Canada. Flimsy plastic chairs are chained to an even more flimsy bush growing out of the rock. I can’t understand it, and picture both bush and chair complete with hawk watcher disappearing over the edge in the gusty gale which buffets us on the rim. But I am assured the chain is merely to hold the chairs and prevent them from falling into the canyon below when the occupants stand up to get a better view of a passing hawk.

We spot half a dozen red-tailed hawks, and peregrin falcons come at us fast over the canyon, then rise to clear the rim and disappear southwards. Another condor soars above. Moving cloud shadows pass from west to east along the canyon floor. A shower develops, then falls towards the north rim. A thunderstorm threatens from the south, but passes us by.

Image

We look forward to the hike down the Keibab Trail to the valley floor as a grand finale to our energetic tour. We’re fit, and anxious to escape from the trappings of civilisation. But Jane only allows us to walk for forty minutes down, and we have to turn round and trudge back up the same trail, which takes over an hour. I hate going back the way I came, and feel I can go much further down, especially as the weather is unexpectedly cool. Jane commiserates with us, but says her hands are tied by head office – they don’t want any more mishaps to mar our travels, and we’re lucky the whole trip hasn’t been cancelled. However, my new Zion walking stick is put to good use, and I experience a taste of the awesome size of the place when I look up to see how far we have descended.

Image

Our afternoon helicopter flight is going ahead after all, as the authorities have lifted their embargo on all flights over the US, and six of us enjoy a luxurious ride. Canned music pipes soothingly through our headphones, and a pre-recorded voice describes the scene below as we smoothly speed at 110 mph over the pine-tops towards the 5000 foot drop. Not a bump do we experience as our pilot manoeuvres over the rim, and suddenly the vast expanse of the ten-mile wide canyon lies below us. The Colorado River is a small brown snake winding into the distance. We reach the north rim, 1000 feet higher than the south, turn round Dragon Point, and make our way back to base. Twenty-five minutes of wonder.

Image

It is almost too good to be true.

Posted in Travels | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on Grand, It Certainly Is

An Example to Us All

Posted on March 11, 2014 by jbwye

What an honour it is to host Tammy Robinson from New Zealand today. Proactive, daunted by nothing, she just gets on with it. And she lives in a beautiful part of the world.

20140208_120921 (640x480)

Tammy – you self-published three books last year. That’s an amazing feat. Tell us a bit about them, how long are they, what genre, and how do you manage your writing time?

Image

Hi Jane, thanks so much for having me here! Yes last year was a bit crazy for me. In January I published Charlie and Pearl, a contemporary romance set in New Zealand with an unusual ending. It’s a relatively short book (around 45,000 words) I actually wrote it in 2011 and for a year tried the traditional publishing route. Then for personal reasons I had a rough year so the book was abandoned. At the start of last year I lost a dear friend to cancer and decided to make my own destiny and take publishing into my own hands. Charlie and Pearl immediately starting receiving great reviews. In April I tragically lost my mother suddenly, and not long after I started writing When Stars Collide. It helped as a distraction from the grief, and a lot of the feelings I had at the time were poured into it.

Image

At 60,000 words long it was published mid last year and I immediately started writing A Roast on Sunday (approx 65,000 words) After the serious subject matter of the first two books I needed some light relief and A Roast on Sunday and its eccentric characters provided that. All three are contemporary fiction with a romantic streak.

Image

I’m currently working on my fourth novel, Lessons from Ducks. I hope to have it published end of April. I have a gorgeous 16 month old baby girl and another baby due in July. I write while my daughter naps (around 1 ½ hours a day). It helps that I go over the book in my head while doing housework/looking after her, so when it comes time to sit in front of the computer the words usually flow pretty easily.

What is the hardest part of producing your books and have you sought any help?

I struggled with formatting the first one for Kindle. It was all new to me and I’m not technically minded at the best of times! Luckily for me, my husband is, and he was a huge help. I’ve got it down pat now where I actually write the books in the format needed for publication; less work at the end! I’m lucky to have some great beta readers who edit for me, and my husband is a graphic designer so I tell him what I want for the covers and he whips them up.

You’ve had some experience with free promos. Can you tell us about the advantages / disadvantages of using this form of marketing, and does it end in sales?

When I first published Charlie and Pearl I ran a few free promos, with varying results, but not really culminating in any extra sales. In December last year I ran a free promo on all three books. 11,000 copies were downloaded, and in the hours directly afterwards I sold another 100 or so. But after that it was business as usual. I did get some new reviews on the books directly afterwards, which supposedly helps with sales. But no, I probably won’t run any more free promos. I’ve just done a Kindle Daily Countdown deal on all three books and sold around 100 books again. I would do this promo again as you are still actually making money as opposed to giving away books for free.

What other marketing methods do you use?

I blog and have a facebook author page but I don’t really utilize them as much as I should. With a 16 month old daughter and another baby on the way I just don’t get the time! As soon as she naps I start writing. I’m hoping that when the new baby comes they somehow nap in tandem otherwise I’ll never get any writing done.

Have you ever tried to find a publisher for your books, and would you consider an offer from one – or not? And why?

I tried the three publishers on offer in New Zealand (!) and received polite rejections from all. I haven’t tried any overseas publishers although I have submitted to a handful of agents in the past (also rejected). I find self publishing easy and have no plans to submit to any publishers/agents at this stage. However, if one came knocking I wouldn’t necessarily say no! It would depend on the publisher. I have friends with publishers (e-book only) who seem to have given up all control (covers etc) and yet still have to do all the marketing themselves for only a teensy cut of the royalties. As far as I can see they’d be better off self publishing and retaining all royalties.

What books have most influenced your life, or your writing?

Hmm, too many to choose! I read across most genres, and all teach me something about the craft. I do prefer the old style storytelling, with rich characters.

You live in a beautiful part of the world. Care to tell us what you especially like about New Zealand?

I grew up here and even though I’ve travelled extensively and lived around the world I still came back here as it’s always home. Where I live is a geothermal area, so we have lakes, bubbling mud pools and geysers around the place. In 45 minutes one direction you can be at some stunning beaches, an hour and a half the other way you can be on snowy slopes. We have gorgeous redwood forests for biking/walking, and lakes for swimming. It’s all on offer and it’s all nearby.

Image

Before you settled there, you worked your way round the world on a cruise ship. (I went round the world, too, Tammy: but I “walked”!) – check my website: Did you keep a diary, and are your books in any way a product of those times?

No, unfortunately I didn’t keep diaries and that’s one thing I regret. I’m sure there are a lot of places/people/experiences I’ve forgotten, so if I could do it over I would keep a written journal. Probably those experiences have influenced my writing in terms of descriptive places and characters, but only in the broadest of ways.

What is the best thing you have done in your life?

Hands down it was having my daughter Holly. I had three miscarriages before I was lucky enough to be blessed with her and she is everything to me. I am thankful every single day to have her in my life. She is 16 months and her personality is emerging more and more every day (cheeky, happy, stroppy, strong willed, determined, ever-so-slightly-bossy) and she makes me laugh with her antics, openly and loudly, which is wonderful. We had another miscarriage after Holly but I am now 21 weeks through this pregnancy and everything is going well. We are keeping the gender of the new baby a secret (as we did with Holly) so check back in July to find out if I have another girl of a boy this time.

Do you have a wish list – what would you love to do / be / have if there were no barriers?

Build my dream home by the sea. Travel the world and take my family with me. Spoil my dad. My mum passed away last year with so many things still on her wish list, so if money were no object I would take my dad to Egypt, where he’s always dreamt of going.

You can contact Tammy on Facebook.

Posted in Authors | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

ROUND THE WORLD WALKABOUT

Diary Excerpts.

Part 8. Canyonlands

We broke camp and headed northwards, east, and then south to Moab – a long eight hour drive through varied scenery. Farms, rolling prairie, forest beginning to turn into autumn colours, mesas creating fortress after giant fortress on the skyline. A geologist’s heaven.  We lunched at a small restaurant with sunflowers poking their heads through the windows. I bought a neckerchief there, depicting cowboys and horses in a sunset; and there were many beautiful trinkets for sale.

The Moab campsite was crowded. I did not have the energy to explore this one-street town, and the others only ventured out for supper before coming straight back to bed. The life had gone out of us.

Image

In Canyonlands we gazed over vast acres of darkly gashed terrain disappearing into the distance, and we wondered at the incredible arches and holes in the rocks contorted into weird shapes and angles in  Arches National Park. I even managed to conjure a complete map of Africa within one formation.

Image

Afternoon thunderstorms

Image

Sunset colours

 

In the afternoon there was “white water” rafting on the Colorado River, with a stop for a picnic lunch half way. Our river guide entertained us with tall tales and jokes; and at one point he had to skull mightily against a gale. The river was low, so there was minimal white water. However, I managed to justify putting on my swimsuit by being at the wrong end of the raft as he guided it into the roughest bits he could find on at least three occasions.

Here, they have opposite ideas to those in Africa. You must not pee on land because it attracts ants, snakes, and other reptiles.  However, you may pee straight into the river, which is so vast it processes everything. They say the Colorado is affected by the volume of underground salt in the area, which heaves up the landscape, causing the weird mesas, arches and windows.  So maybe the river can’t be polluted; but they could learn a thing or two from Africa about toilet practice in the rough. Their “long drops” are nauseating. I did gently hint to our Navajo guide that perhaps a spade and a pile of sand near the holes in the ground would be less unsavoury, but he looked at me askance, and perhaps it would have been better coming from a man.

Image

…Which brings me to Monument Valley, home of John  Wayne, Roy Rogers and Trigger. We rode our horses past massive rock formations and pillars, familiar from western movies.  Our guide issued blood-curdling whoops, which echoed weirdly back to us, and we tried to mimic him. The horses, though rough, were sleek and tough and raring to go.  My camera and binoculars hitched round my waist became a nuisance, especially with the high-pommel of the western saddle. So when we met up with my party in the pick-up half-way there, I handed them over, complete with bum-bag. That was better.  But I still had to remember not to lean too far forward in the saddle.

We rode into camp and corralled the horses in the fast-falling dusk. In a huge natural sandy basin surrounded by mesas and pinnacles, our Navajo guide and his family produced a magnificent Mexican-style meal with special Navajo “bread”: tacos thick and soft. Children costumed with fantastic colourful feathers entertained us with rhythmic dances, insisting that we, too, should shuffle around in circles for several minutes. Finally, we collapsed on logs around a campfire to the strumming of a guitar. I slept soundly that night under the stars.

8. campstars

Our Navajo camp, where we slept under the stars

A hasty start to greet the rising sun; a quick breakfast and break of camp. While the others jerked and bumped back to the valley entrance in the pick-up, I remounted my steed and rode out into the morning, ending in an exhilarating gallop, Indian style (on cowboy saddles) up the sandy road back to the viewpoint.

Yeeeee …….. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

Posted on March 7, 2014 by jbwye | Comments Off on Wanted – A Spade and a Pile of Sand

We Are as Tiny Ants

Posted on February 28, 2014 by jbwye

ROUND THE WORLD WALKABOUT

Diary Excerpts.

Part 7. Bryce Canyon

September 11th, 2001.

Disturbing news is quietly filtering through on the bus radio.

Explore have a policy not to allow broadcasts through the vehicle because it leads to disagreement among the passengers. But Manu has surreptitiously turned the radio on, and he is fiddling with the dials now. Jane is half-heartedly trying not to let us hear it. I happen to be in the front seat. Others behind me are listening intently to their walkmans.  Every station is broadcasting the same story.

We arrive at Rubys General Store in Bryce Canyon shopping centre, and people are crowding around a TV listening to the radio, or talking urgently on their mobiles and in phone booths. The pictures on TV are like scenes from a thriller film as America reels under the shock of the four-plane hi-jack bombing of the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon. There is no more light-hearted cheeriness; only subdued, sympathetic half-smiles and expressive eyes saying it all. Nothing will be the same again.

Image

We are immediately affected, because our planned helicopter flight over Bryce Canyon is cancelled, as all aircraft over US airspace are grounded. We make camp and then drive into the Park.

Image

What an extraordinarily wonderful place! We walk halfway round the rim of the canyon, marvelling at the castles in the rock created by enormous red hoodoos, shading into oranges, pinks, browns, yellows, and translucent purple, depending on the light and the angle.

Image

Tall pines between the hoodoos try in vain to compete in height. It is a faery place. Well-defined horizontal layers of rock create uniformity throughout the vast basin of this other-world city. We conjure up all kinds of shapes among the pinnacles; there is the Titanic, sinking, and Queen Victoria with her stately crown; fairy castles and fortresses fade in the distance, and on the far side we make out an outsize table with fluted edges.

Image

Two turkey vultures flex their wings high up on a pinnacled hoodoo, which rises above the level of the rim

There are a surprising number of people here. I chat to one who does not have the heart to go to his office as usual, but wants to touch base somewhere beautiful, which does not change and which will always be there for him.

“Why do they hate us so much?” he asks.

Then we descend along a closely winding path, which makes a serpentine into the basin floor. It is different world. The enormity of these amazing towers of layered red rock broods over us. We are as tiny ants as we stride down the serpentine and through minute man-sized tunnels worn at the pinnacle bases, until the path levels out on the canyon floor. We amble among tall trees and bushes and more rocks before ascending  gradually to another part of the rim. Ants we are, and these hoodoos the anthills, tens of thousands of times larger than Kenya’s tallest termite mounds.

Image

It is a cold night. At dawn, we return to “Sunrise point” on the rim for another feast of colour, and manage to catch the brief moment of light across the pinnacles with our cameras before the sun disappears behind looming clouds.

The fascination of America’s canyon lands awaits us, but all my life I will never forget this place, where I first witness the end of an innocent, trusting world.

Image

My solar hat

Posted in Travels | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on We Are as Tiny Ants