Tag Archives: blogging

.., Woof! Woof!…is Author, David Robertson barking mad?… or just being a writer?

…this ‘ere blog caters to Guest Posts in most languages, even Doggiespeak… as witness this canine contribution from my Chum, (see what I did there, Mabel?), Author David Robertson… enjoy…

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Oh hello, nice to see you again.

No, that’s very perceptive of you, I’m not Seumas.

But he has kindly lent me his blog because I have a bit of news.

Pardon?

I am, yes. That bloke who wrote DOGNAPPED!

I’m pleased you remembered.

Well I have that trouble myself to be honest, can never remember a name – but at least you remembered the book, so that’s a start.

What?

Oh, it’s on the tip of your tongue. O.k. I’ll leave it until the end – see if you can dredge it up from the depths of your memory in the meantime.

I’m exactly the same, I like to try to figure these things out for myself. And don’t get googling it either – that’s cheating.

Anyway, where were we?

That’s right, thanks – my bit of news.

A new Misty book came out at the end of November!

Yay!

That’s what I thought too.

This one’s called IN THE DOGHOUSE!

Well I’m not going to tell you the whole story am I now!?

Suffice it to say it concerns Rascal – yes that’s right, the big cowardly German shepherd – and the rest of the gang in their quest to get him a new kennel because he’s outgrown his old one.

And the crazy spaniel, One-Eyed Rose, knows of a kennel shop on the other side of town.picture1

I mean how much trouble could they possibly get in to?

You’re right – loads!

And once again the illustrations by Ian R Ward are fantastic.

Oh you did? Well it’s nice you remembered someone’s name!

No, I’m not miffed.

Just something in my eye, that’s all.

So if you have a child, grandchild, nephew, niece or you just know of a kid somewhere in your town around the age of 7 to 11 you have an excuse to buy it, because let’s face it it’s not for them is it? You want to read it first!

And this is the ideal time – buy it now, read it (you won’t forget the review, will you?) and then you can give it at Christmas as a stocking filler.

Think how popular you’ll be!

No, you don’t need to thank me, just grab the book, that will be praise enough.

Say that again.

Oh, DOGNAPPED!

It’s done very well, thanks for asking.

In fact, if you’ll allow me to blow my own trumpet for a minute.

What do you mean, ‘you were going to anyway!’

How rude!

But you’re right, come over here a minute – let me whisper. Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was getting a bit big-headed would we.

Not again we wouldn’t, no – have it your way.

Listen – DOGNAPPED! is in the final of The People’s Book Prize 2017.

How about that then!

I know, I know! My level of chuffedness is off the scale of the chuffedometer!

Well, since you ask I don’t think that there’s a prize as such. Probably something to prop up on the mantelpiece I suppose, but me and Kate get to go and have some posh nosh in London I think and perhaps even a mention on the old Sky telly box.

Not bad that, eh!

For a bloke whose name you can’t even remember.

No, I’m not going to tell you now.

Here’s the link to my author page – http://amzn.to/2e0GyRe

And my blog – https://mistybooks.wordpress.com

And my website – www.mistybooks.net

You can look it up on one of those!

And come May when the third book’s out and I tap up Seumas again for a bit of a plug, perhaps you’ll remember who I am then!

I’m not bitter!

And no, I’m not David bloody Walliams either!

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…thanks for this tail-wagger of a piece, that man, David… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

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GoReadMe! Campaign – Susan M. Toy’s books

…here we go  with this month’s GoReadMe! Campaign, featuring the terrific novels of Susan M. Toy… I’ve just finished reading Susan’s latest, ‘One Woman’s Island’, and enjoyed that immensely, so if yeez wanna be part of this worthy campaign, why not pledge to read one or more of m’Lady, Susan’s masterpieces… thanks for yer support … see yeez later…LUV YEEZ! 

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ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

Books: Publishing, Reading, Writing

In August this year, I had a great idea … and the very kind Seumas Gallacher allowed me space on his blog to not only write about the GoReadMe! Campaign, but also offered to be the first to have his books promoted using it.

He’s a brave man! While we may not have reached the target of readers we wished to attract within the time period we allowed, there were a fair number of new readers who discovered Gallacher’s books through this promotion, so I was pleased with the response.

I’m back now to do the same for my own writing, since I recently published a new novel in the Bequia Perspectives series. Here’s the background to the idea:

First, let’s go back a little way in time to a blog post I published in March of this year on the perennial subject that’s of interest to all authors…

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…a remarkable offering for lovers of real poetry… from Jo VonBargen

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…every now and then, this ol’ Jurassic Scots scribbler gets a vicarious buzz from the adulation accorded to others… for a while now, I’ve been acquainted with the LUVLY Jo VonBargen, whose poetry has attracted the following review from another notable writer, Stephen Woodfin...

“A Review by Stephen Woodfin

It is difficult for me as a journeyman writer of prose fiction to do justice in a review to the exquisite collection of poetry found in Jo VonBargen’s FROM THIS FAR TIME.

FROM THIS FAR TIME chronicles the human saga from time immemorial to the present and hints at things yet to come. VonBargen’s poetry is reminiscent of the writings of the famous French Jesuit paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin when it speaks of the processes that have brought the human race to this point in its history.

But, her book is far more than a poetic treatment of evolutionary theory. It is an expose of the human soul, that ephemeral critter capable of such love and cruelty. It is a book about the yearning of the heart for justice and fairness and its ages-long acceptance of so little less.

Take this section from “The Legend,” a chapter about the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico. “This is the story./ The sin of a nation is a/ Moaning of wind/ In bloodrock canyon-/In the neck of a bottle-/ In the heart of a placeless/ Soul. But Earth beats a pulse yet/strong/ And unstuttered,/ The unavenged rage of/ Wetted-down wings snuffed/ To the ether for no / Good reason save covetous/ want. Covetous want!/ I saw blood on the hands/ Of our Fathers and/ Fathers./ They, who passed down/ The Fool’s-Golden rule!/ Something was lost in/ omission, / Translation./ Yet, something was found.”

This poetry grabs you by the throat and won’t let go. It sweeps nothing under the rug, pulls the skeletons out of the closet, parades them in the polite parlor. It does not shy away from atrocities. “A counterfeit savior, glib of /tongue-/What witness would tell it?/ Baked in ovens,/ Six million!/… Where was an obdurate,/slow/Jehovah/ when those bone-thin/ Corpses piled up/Into one great global/ Putrefaction?”

VonBargen’s writing is full of religious symbolism, but not a white blue-eyed Jesus. For her, the power of such symbols lies in their misuse on the one hand and their other-worldly essence on the other. She does not trivialize Golgotha.

But I would do Jo VonBargen a great disservice if I left the impression that FROM THIS FAR TIME is a bowl of despair served cold. Rather, the words she has strung together vibrate with a power to transform the reader, to urge her to reach deep within herself and find the best parts of her spirit.

FROM THIS FAR TIME is a remarkable read, a tower rising out of the plains to guide soul-weary travelers home.”

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https://www.amazon.com/This-Far-Time-Jo-VonBargen/dp/1491221003/

…now THATs a review!… from an accomplished wordsmith, reflecting on the elegance of craft of Jo VonBargen, a literary sculptor of poetry, a medium that often exposes the work of its owner as self-indulgent ‘maudlin’Jo VonBargen‘s poetry is of no such ilk… powerful, coherent, and possessing that most elusive of qualities – originality… my thanks to the reviewer and the reviewed… see yeezl ater… LUV YEEZ!

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…Authoress, Joy Lennick shares the story of an amazing man…

…my dear friend, Authoress, Joy Lennick, was approached by Graham Knight, the grandson of a remarkable man, Fred Knight, with the request to adapt his grandfather’s autobiography, FROM THE PRAIRIE TO PASSCHENDAELE…  and what a life story it is… but let Joy tell yeez…

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I recently “adapted” the autobiography of a worthy man: Frederick Alfred Knight (Fred), born in  the late 1800s  to a family of twelve children in  Kent, UK. Those were “the good old days”…and Fred left school at fourteen to be apprenticed to a cobbler. Hearing of an opening in Canada, he dreamed of being a cowboy, borrowed the fare and sailed there alone, aged seventeen. Instead, the hard role of a farmer greeted him and he quickly became a man!

Despite the arduous work and severe highs and lows of temperatures in  summer and winter, he took to the wide open prairies and simple life, until World War I broke out and rearranged his future. Bravely fighting in the much lauded 10th Canadian Military Unit in several battles, including the one at Passchendaele, he nearly died and eventually lost his right arm from wounds received then.  Fred Knight  was awarded the Military Medal for bravery, but at such a high price!

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EXCERPTS: “FROM THE PRAIRIE TO PASSCHENDAELE”

Born in the late 1800’s: one of twelve children, Fred Knight’s story is of one man’s fight against the odds.

Where Fred lived… “ A lot went on in  my home village of Elham in those early days. …Ale was brewed in an old building behind The King’s Arms and The Rose and Crown public houses for the ever thirsty men; flax was grown locally, which was made into string and rope of all thicknesses, and we had a  blacksmith’s forge. Iron smelting was another occupation and the brickworks was down by the railway station….Prior to 1906, when a Liberal government was elected, destitute people were sent to the dreaded Workhouse and had to ‘break stones’ for road making, or ‘break bones’ for making into fertilizer…  After 1906, poor children were given a free school meal and old age pensioners were paid five shillings a week.”

Where Fred worked…”He (my father) obtained an apprenticeship for me with a shoe repairer in the town…I felt exploited and also underpaid – having to ask for my money!”(His father was a ‘fire and brimstone’ preacher and engineer.)

What Fred dreamed of… Becoming a cowboy! He was offered a job on a farm in Canada, and, having very little money, managed to borrow the fare and sailed there, alone, aged seventeen. Bitterly disappointed, because the promised job didn’t materialize, Fred was offered work by a Homesteader, and became a farmer – working 320 acres of land! – and a man in a very short space of time! It was hardly the cowboy fantasy he had, but he had a debt to honour and his hard graft soon earned the respect and friendship of the tough men and women in the scattered towns and farms. He surprised himself by growing to love the stark simplicity of the Canadian prairie.

What life decided for him…Despite 45 degrees below temperatures in winter and soaring ones in  summer, Fred ploughed on, until World War I arrived and led his life in another, tragic, direction. He fought bravely with the 10th Canadian Infantry unit in various battles, including the bloody one at Passchendaele. The Canadians  seized Passchendaele on November 6th, 1917 . They were awarded nine Victoria Crosses, but the cost was terribly high.  There were 15,000 wounded and dead for a few square kilometres of mud, and the battle had lasted three months. What mayhem and madness! Fred was awarded the Military Medal for his valour, for which he paid a terrible price. Severely wounded, he eventually lost his right arm and suffered continuous pain in the stump for many years. When peace was declared, it didn’t come for Fred…Being a formidable character – no longer able to farm – he retrained as an accountant, and with his then wife and four sons, returned to work and live in  Kent. He prospered, and on retirement, at the age of 83, he decided to write his life story. Sadly, Parkinson’s disease had robbed him of the use of his left arm. Never one to give in easily, he purchased a device so he could type it with his head!

For someone who just wanted “To be a cowboy!” the grueling life on the Saskatchewan prairie came as a rude awakening, but one which Fred fully embraced. By today’s standards, the sheer hard work involved in working a farm is the 1910’s/20’s and 30’s, is mind-boggling.

I felt privileged at being asked to adapt Fred’s book and salute the memory of a worthy man.

Note. Next year, 2017, is the 100th anniversary of The Battle of Passchendaele.

Amazon buying link:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Prairie-Passchendaele-Soldier-Canadian-Infantry/dp/1537252917/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1480791479&sr=1-1

…thanks for that fabulous insight to splendid man, m’Lady, Joy… see yeez later.. LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

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…Authoress pal, Sherrie Lowe, takes a flyer with her book, OVER A SPITFIRE…

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…I absolutely LUV it when writers get themselves speaking directly to camera, which really means speaking directly to us… my Guest Blogger today, Authoress, Sherrie Lowe, has a lot to tell about the genesis of her book, OVER A SPITFIRE… have a wee listen first to her video.. it takes less than a minute… smashing stuff, m’Lady…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CEYy7Wfb-g
The Germination of OVER A SPITFIRE
Summer 2011
“I’ve got a great idea for a book for you,” my son Mark stated as soon as I’d got my bum on their settee, “it’ll make you a fortune.” (Ha, we wish!) He continued. “You’ve got a couple, he dies, then comes back reincarnated and they meet again.”
“I’m not writing that!” I said aghast. “It’s tempting Fate.”
“You can’t think like that or you’d never write anything.”
“They’d be different ages.”
He shrugged. “Well think about it.”
I did. My stories have a habit of happening. I’m very wary of killing characters off. I wrote about a car accident, it happened to Mark, although fortunately the outcome wasn’t as bad as in the story. My village was called Willow’s Dip. Some years later Mark and Harriett moved into Willow Drive. I wrote about breast cancer, a friend told me she had it.
“I can’t tempt Fate,” I said to Ellis as we lay on the lawn one sunny Saturday and I told him of his brother’s idea.
“You could make it a gay couple,” he replied drowsily, “we don’t know anybody gay so that wouldn’t be tempting Fate.”
I didn’t know anyone gay at that time but I’ve known a few people since. Thankfully they are fit and well and untouched by my scribings.
When Ellis left I set about a plot. What era would it have to be for a realistic relationship into a subsequent life? I thought about World War Two. I’d recently seen a programme called Spitfire Women about pilots in the Air Transport Auxiliary and it fascinated me.
I’ve always loved Spitfires, proud to be Stoke-on-Trent born like Reginald Mitchell. The first one I’d actually seen was in The Potteries Museum and Art Gallery in Hanley, my local town many years ago when the boys were small and we’d gone for a visit in the school holidays. I thought it was such a marvellous machine as I climbed the steps and looked at the cockpit from the viewing platform. I always felt very patriotic on Remembrance Sunday when one flew over the Cenotaph at 11a.m even though the war ended ten years before I was born. I used to see my dad there and Remembrance Sunday always reminds me of him. It was my parents’ stories of the war years that I grew up with.
I always had a notion to fly when I was young but sadly it was a dream that was never realized, I’ve not even flown as a passenger but the reason why is another story. Perhaps I was Will, my character in the book in a former life. Maybe that’s where this story has come from. Who knows? It is neither a lesbian nor a heterosexual romance, more a story of two souls connecting across time and realm regardless of their gender.
As I progressed I reported the regression idea I’d had to Mark and Harriett.
“I’d start it on the hypnotist’s couch,” said Harriett, so I did.
Two years later Ellis met Holly, who told her pupils that she didn’t like the word ‘said,’ there are many more interesting words to use, so I’ve kept it to a minimum.
I knew I wanted a Spitfire for my cover and a young woman of that era, preferably in ATA uniform, but I’m paranoid about breaching copyright so I decided to use a photograph of my mum. I’d followed The Cover Collection on Twitter and they’d followed me for some years so I contacted them and Debbie created this fabulous cover for me. I hope you can see why I love it.
I’m also thrilled to bits with the fabulous promotion video done for me by Rachel McGrath. It really captures the essence of the story.
If you download the book, a huge thank you. If you like it could you just take a few moments to review it on its Amazon page please, it will be a massive help. Can I ask you not to do the review as invited by Amazon at the end of the book as they don’t appear on the Amazon page for some reason, they vanish into cyberspace, but instead use the link I’ve added which will take you straight to the page. Many thanks.
…and here’s a special bonus reading by the Lady herself…
…m’Lady Sherrie‘s written a sequel, titled, strangely enuff, OVER A SPITFIRE II THE SEQUEL… she says that’s for ease of finding it, as it’s a little sum’thing extra for readers of the first book…
…she’s written written six other novels, three of which are a series – The Willow’s Dip Series, two memoirs and two short story collections. …here is the link to her website, which I’m sure will be of interest to yeez…
…thanks for sharing with us , m’Lady, Sherrie… see yeez later … LUV YEEZ!
ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

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…from the slums of Docklands Govan to the Opera Houses of the World… the magic of music…

…as this ol’ Scots Jurassic scribbler heads into dotage, it has always baffled me why sum’thing responds in me when I hear music… real music… not the noises which often pass for that from so many supposed ‘mega stars’ and reality-television-produced ‘celebrities’ … this You Tube piece which has been doing the rounds for a while came across my ear again this morning, and a wee mem’ry thing clicked in my mind… the guy in the clip is a trained operatic singer, with an excellent voice, and the piece he’s chosen is superb… with we Scots and Irish folks, I’m not sure if it’s a Celtic or Gaelic thing but there’s certainly sum’thing in the plaintiff resonance of certain soulful passages which touch us like no others… listen to the opening strings in the video… right there it had me… and I confess a touch of a moist-eyed mem’ry I mentioned above is flooding back even more now as I type this… back in the slums of Docklands Govan in Glasgow, the back-courts area of the tenements most of us lived in were often the sparse stage for men who needed work but could find no employment… dressed in their work jackets or trench coats, with cloth caps, and usually a neck scarf against the biting cold, they would stand in these back courts in the mornings and sing… usually ballads… and man, some of these men could really sing… the stuff of magic for all we families who lived in stretched circumstances… ‘Danny Boy’, ‘I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen’, ‘Rowan Tree’, and others of that sort… thrown down from the various tenement windows would come a few precious pennies, wrapped in bits of newspaper so they wouldn’t spill when they landed… and often, also a wrapped sandwich or a few homemade biscuits… and even now, I understand my mixed emotions about my deep-rooted hatred of the scourge of poverty that had these men sing/beg for pennies, and yet marvelling in the pleasure their singing brought us… in an all-too-frequently drab existence, their voices gifted us all a bit of much-needed colour… from the slums of Docklands Govan to the Opera Houses of the World… the magic of music… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

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…two gracious ladies embellish my blog… Miriam Drori and Emma Rose Millar…

… a couple of days ago, I featured a post with two Authors… today we go even better… two Authoresses! my dear friends , Miriam Drori and Emma Rose Millar (she’s the one holding the book)… and some launch news to impart… get ready to receive the impartation…

THE WOMEN FRIENDS: SELINA

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How do you like to find out about a book? Do you

  • read the blurb?
  • look at the cover?
  • listen to a reading?
  • read about the author(s)?
  • read about the setting – geographical or historical?
  • go to the launch party?
  • simply buy the book and get stuck in?

All of those choices are available for The Women Friends: Selina, due out on Thursday, 1st December.

**FINALIST: The Chanticleer Goethe Awards for Late Historical Fiction**

Who is the young woman with the haunting gaze in Gustav Klimt’s 1917 masterpiece, The Women Friends?

Selina Brunner is running from the demons of her past, cut off from her family in a sleepy Tyrolean village, and lost in the soulless city of Vienna, where everything – even one’s very existence – is a lie.

When, amidst growing fear of sinister developments in Vienna, an exotic stranger comes to town, Selina finds old passions reignited and her whole world turned upside down.

The Women Friends: Selina is the first in a series of fictional tales about the women who inspired this great artist.

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READING

Listen to the beginning of The Women Friends: Selina here.

THE AUTHORS

Emma Rose Millar was born in Birmingham – a child of the seventies. She is a single mum and lives with her young son who keeps her very busy and very happy. Emma left school at 16 and later studied for an Open University degree in Humanities with English Literature. She has had a variety of jobs including chocolatier, laboratory technician and editorial assistant for a magazine, but now works part-time as an interpreter.

Emma writes historical fiction and children’s picture books, winning the Legend category of the Chaucer Awards with Five Guns Blazing in 2014. She is currently working on her third novel, Jezebel, a dark tale of obsession and opium addiction set in the roaring twenties.

Emma is an avid fan of live music and live comedy and enjoys skating, swimming and yoga.

For more information, please visit https://emmarosemillar.com/ or follow Emma’s author page on Amazon: http://author.to/EmmaRoseMillar.

Miriam Drori was born and raised in London, but has lived most of her life in Jerusalem, where she married and gave birth to three now grown-up children. Following careers in computer programming and technical writing, Miriam turned her attention to creative writing. Her first published novel, Neither Here Nor There, is a romance set in Jerusalem, a story of two people drawn to each other despite their very different backgrounds.

Miriam began writing in order to raise awareness of social anxiety and never fails to mention this common but little-known disorder when the opportunity arises.

You can find out more about Miriam and connect with her on her website/blog: https://miriamdrori.com/ or follow her author page on Amazon: http://Author.to/MiriamDroriAtAmazon

SETTING

We’ve written several articles about the setting of The Women Friends: Selina. Here’s a list of them.

LAUNCH PARTY

You are hereby invited to the launch party for The Women Friends: Selina on Thursday, 1st December at 3 pm (UTC+1). Just pop over here and click on Going. On the day, there will be a competition to win a beautiful prize and lots more.

BUY THE BOOK

Wherever you are in the world, whether you want the ebook or the paperback, this is the Amazon link to buy The Women Friends: Selina. You don’t have to wait for the day. It’s available for pre-order now.

***

Seumas, thank you so much for hosting us on your delightful, though occasionally baffling, blog. I haven’t lost hope that we will, one day, meet in person.

…and thanks, m’Ladies for adorning my wee blog today… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!

ALL MY BLOG POSTS ARE FREE TO SHARE OR RE-BLOG SHOULD YOU SO WISH—BE MY GUEST!

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