Posts Tagged ‘publishers’

For those who have read THE PEBBLE travel is clearly a key theme throughout the book. So with the help of friends and readers Alex, our female flawed hero, takes to the streets of Europe’s cities and key buildings. 






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I was twelve when my class at school began a post Christmas reading of ‘The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty’. Little did I know that it was a quite famous book, and I ran home to tell my mother I had ‘discovered’ the most amazing world of imagination and although I did not use the word deluded, hey I was twelve, I am sure I used something similar to tag onto the imagination of this guy Walter Mitty. 

In fact it made me feel kind of, I don’t know, normal. Here was a man, an adult, who like me traveled off in his head to stories, scenarios and characters and I dived head in, stuck myself into the pages and visions for years. I heard from my Grandmother there was a movie, and indeed there was.

Magical, but alas I got older and the books became darker and more heavy, I blame Jim Morrison and his lizard king antics. I told myself to put away Walter as it was “not for the adult world I was going into!”.

And so it remained, Walter and his incredible world of made up mania and fame was gone forever. Well gone forever until I joined Facebook, and found the world of adults do indeed still write tales of magical made up existence and create a palace from their 6 x 10 bedrooms. I found Walter alive and well and living in social media!



People who have a part time job cleaning up the local vets have suddenly become international spokesperson for the cause of ……. and as an author I have to say, suddenly we have all become international famous bestsellers.

The share your status request that screams for text on the top of your Facebook page it seems asks you to say “Share your hopes and dreams of who you want to be”.

I have no beef with Facebook, or it’s endless supply of dreaming typists telling me to buy this, ban that, join it or look at. Dreaming and hope is all that some have, allow them to be a Walter because you know what, the only thing stopping them from being what their status is screaming to say is circumstance. And if you follow quantum physics, then circumstances are just an illusion.

So today, revisit your Walter and fill that status bar, post that picture because Walter lives in all of us really!!!!!

I am off to write my next bestseller……

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Inspired by Nat King Cole…

Here is a little story that popped in my head while listening to this song…..


New York City Dec 1942

“Cold,mam I am cold!”

Rubbing her floured white hands on a red apron that had seen many a kitchen escapade, frayed as it was into tassels, his mother answered as she walked across the fourth floor room-come-apartment. “I know, I know George pet, I know.” Swooping up the hair licked, ginger mopped, eight year old and embracing hard, she continued. “But come away from the window and get ready for bed. It’s Christmas Eve and soon Santa will be here.”

A container of rumbling excitement, balancing cliff edge style on the back of a tattered arm chair, George forced his button nose squashed flat against the watery window pane. “But I have to be awake when I get my present mam. It is what I asked Santa for.”

Not that it made much difference, toys were low on his twenty something year old mother list, but Louise was curious about this top secret Santa list. George had given it into a store Santa. War time had not stopped the ritual visit to Santa just the resources to meet them. While there George slipped it into Santa’s hand, said not a word, no lap sitting either. Just a drop off and it left Louise wondering and with two weeks to Christmas she thought she would have got it out of him, but no, silence!

And here we were on Christmas Eve and he still kept his list to himself.

“But I will do you a deal”, George chirped, lips whipped into a cheeky grin. “I will put on my night shirt and do my teeth, eh!” Jumping off to his room, Louise ruffled his hair, sighed a half laugh, and went to cut him off from a return to the living room.

Cut off at the bathroom, George was detoured to his bed and persuaded to have a slight rest before Santa arrived with the mysterious gift.

Within minutes he was off in snooze land and Louise wiped a tear away as she shoved some fruit into an old stocking and carefully hung it by his bed. So little, but war is war and metal was precious and so was money.


Heavy footsteps on the hall outside the apartment ran through George like a volt of lightening and woke him with a start. Santa had brought his present. He knew the sound of heavy boots so well. He had heard them rumble through the hall ways for months now, and then float off in the distant sounds as he watched an untwisted door handle. However, this night was different. This night, Santa was sorting things out, so George sat up, rubbed his eyes and confidently awaited the front door to open. He listened and peeked through the barely open crack of his bedroom door as his mother remained dozing on the couch.

“Oh she is going to love this!” George said, hardly able to whisper. His voice breaking into a squeak.

True to his letter, the boot stomps were coming nearer and nearer. And then the thrill!!! Army green. Santa had done it…..

George knew the colour of an army uniform and he could see it as his mother, awakened by the knocking, opened the front door. The arm stretching in and then, so strange, it retracted and Louise closed the door.

“Santa?” asked George, watching bemused as Louise slumped to the floor crushing the card in her hand…..

“No George, it ….it ” Louise replied through snot and bubble tears.

“I know he got it wrong”, George stammered. “I should have been more clear it my letter, but I couldn’t spell and I wanted it for a surprise for you.”


“Daddy to come home, my Christmas list”, George wrapped himself around the bundle of sobbing mess that Louise had turned into. He was only eight, but he knew when mammy needed hugs. “And Santa just brought a card from him, I am sorry mammy!”

Daddy never did come home, like so many others that Christmas he just sent a card…


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Day Zero– eBook launch is ..NOW and the world and Winter Solstice has passed over….

Ok, we are all still here. Oh wait! We are all here aren’t we? I am not just frantically looking at my stats and wondering about the ‘deathly’ slow rise in those mesmerising bar graph things. I will assume no zombie, flesh decaying fingers are struggling over the keyboards of the world and so I will carry on.


I got up quite late for a nerve filled launch day, at 8.00, and then it dawned on me. The world is still here, the clouds have blocked the Winter Solstice and my book is launching…TODAY.

So, what is THE PEBBLE really about, and why did  I bother to write it at all? (a question I often asked myself in a manic author fueled rage).

Really it is about discovery. The drive for all of us to find an identity and a place of belonging. Now that sounds all fluffy and wool hats, so the story is..

A girl is orphaned at birth and trundles through her life, with some very strange events tagging along behind her. And then….identity and angel wings. That is just the start……. with ancient tri-spiral prophecies, Winter Solstice, Angel Blades, huge deception and many a twist and turn. I am excited, I am nervous and now time to get back into the promo stuff and posting simple things on my blog

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Countdown to Winter Solstice, Mayan Calender,End Of The World and my book release!.

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6 Days To Go!

How could I forgot about the End Of The World?

So sloppy of me!

Now I have a massive flaw in all my planning. You think I would know better. Living beside Newgrange in the midst of the mysticism of The Winter Solstice and all things celtic myth and romance, I should have know that 21st Dec and the Mayan Calender could have been a fly in the ointment in the release of my novel The Pebble on ‘end of the world day. ‘

The inspiration started in July, a novel with a message and a cracking fantasy twist that leaves the reader thinking and wondering. The long nights, the impeccable timing to hit the sales while the fever of Mayans and sun rises was tipping the scales, all seemed so perfect.

Why do people now have me raked with worry?

Can it be that my readers will just reach chapter 10 and the whoosh……world ends!

Where will my reviews go, how will I rattle with nerves at each notification on Facebook…..

Though maybe I was right and there is more to sun rises and hidden chambers than Hollywood blockbusters and people chanting in a field. Maybe people will finish The Pebble and find it asks them even more questions… oh my brain is swelling…Time for sleep, well half sleep until tomorrow and the voyage of writing and wrangling thoughts continue to sail.


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Now this is the big one, The Mother-In- Law (caps intentional), the forever-hanging pendulum of criticism. If you are going to crack this nut of married life, then the wife and her mother are a package you need to unwrap……very carefully.

Ok, so you know why your new house has a broom cupboard. No, it is not to store utensils or the new ironing board, but as a parking bay for the mother-in-law. It is where she will park her mode of transport for visiting your house for the rest of your married life. Her broom!

Now, the mother-in-law has some disabilities that need to be recognised. Mainly, she has very poor eyesight. Don’t agree? Well you just watch the next time she visits during the summer months. The conversation will go something like this.

“Is he not going to cut that grass…(fill in wife’s name)” quite oblivious to your tired-only-on-from work ass.

Or when you are heading out to the boys for a ball game.

“Is he gone out AGAIN” as you stand two feet away. “And you sitting in, huh”

But the good news is…..they can be trained. Turned into a lesser model of your own perfect mom. It will take time and stealth but it is achievable.


Watch out for the things that your wife does that annoys her mother. This weakness is your strength. Call over for coffee and ‘cry on her shoulder’ because (insert wife’s name) has just done (insert annoying thing here) and hey presto you have found holy common ground. The benefits are amazing. Extra babysitting visits and a comrade in arms in the inevitable squabbles of married life among many.

I will finish with an old joke.

“I have to say I am so lucky. My mother-in-law is an angel”

“You’re lucky, mine is still on earth!”

Disclaimer. None of this resembles my own mother-in-law in any manner. She is a saint who agrees her daughter is very annoying when………….

Keep the faith men. You can make it!

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