Bonjour, Kalimera and welcome,
And so another week passes and, I am pleased to say, it’s been productive. Two reviews and an interview up on my various social network sites, future blogs and interview questions sent off and the mastering of PowerPoint {ish}. My greatest week’s achievement, however, is that I have managed to steam ahead on my work in progress. It really was beginning to drag me down. This work is a tad out of my comfort zone; still romance but with certain plot twists that had me struggling. All I can say is hats off to all you suspense/mystery writers out there. I will not be giving up my day job anytime soon.
Ah, what a nice lead in to my next topic. Writing – career or hobby. Recently the question was put to me, am I reaping financial benefits from all my hours of slog? I had to answer, not yet but I do hope to in the future. My friend’s response to this was, so really, your writing is just a hobby. This wasn’t said in a disparaging way but it made me think, is it a reflection of modern day society when success is judged on financial gain? As a writer, I feel far from unsuccessful. I have written and had four novels published with plenty more, I hope, to come. For me, I feel such a thrill when I received a positive review, perhaps more than if I receive news of a sale. I never went into this game expecting to come out JK Rowling rich, although it would be nice. In fact, I was so not into financial reward, I let all my friends read my manuscripts for free. That, I no longer do. Hey, they can buy the book like everyone else. Do I give my books as gifts? I have done on occasion and usually to a special few close friends. I know they probably won’t read them {these friends tend to be guys and not really into romance} but it was more about finding a personal gift. What can be more personal than my thoughts, feelings expressed on paper?
And so on to Valentine’s week. Needless to say, I received the same gift I receive every year; a big fat nothing. I think Rafa would have gone out and bought me something but he’d spent all his pocket money on sunflower seeds. Being the week of love, it got me thinking it was time for one of my Top Tens. I thought, this week, I would post what I consider to be the top ten most romantic love songs of all time. A daunting task because I could list a hundred. Let’s face it; everyone has a personal favourite, one that will evoke memories of one’s first love, first kiss, their wedding day. Some of my choices have been covered by many different artists, in some cases well and some disastrously. Where I can, I will include a cover version that I feel did a fairly good job. So, I think I will make this interesting. The songs will be listed in no order of my personal preference but, anyone who can list what they think is my own top three {in order of my preference} will win a free download copy of Dreamweek – the prequel to Fragile Dreams. Closing date will be tomorrow 2pm est. time. Please listen to all the songs first and then post a comment with your answer. I would love to hear your thoughts. Til next week, get out the tissues and let’s have a good romantic weep.
1} Run Snow Patrol : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AOBs8dU4Pb8
Run Leona Lewis {cover} http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iL_SmIjlg3s&feature=related
2} First Time Ever I saw your Face - Roberta Flack http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Go9aks4aujM
First time Ever -Leona Lewis: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYrt7coJE5Q&feature=related
3} Electricity – Anathema: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LwN_J88-Nc
4} I Want to know what love is – Foreigner: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loWXMtjUZWM
{A footnote here. I know Mariah covered it but so badly I refuse to post the link. Some things should be left alone.}
5}Is this Love ? – Whitesnake: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoJMLBWTkrw
6}Tu M’ Aime Encore – Celine Dion : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7RzWQqcIfA
Tu M’aime Encore – Il Divo {purely coz they look so GOOD}
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCn3hsrBKgA
7}Knights in White Satin – Moody Blues: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rkgm1yGgbM
Knights in White Satin – Matt Cardle: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OgPTL-_wnCM
8} It’s Over – Roy Orbison: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjMfQG4DejQ
9}Unchained Melody – Righteous Brothers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6xb_ddP4nM
Unchained Melody – Il Divo {again coz they’re hot} http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FVtrPwxpeJw
10} Sara – Fleetwood Mac:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHJb87nNsGY
Welcome to the world of a grecophile romance author
Thursday, 17 February 2011
Thursday, 10 February 2011
Wanted - Personal Assistent
Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day….tra la….
Good morning, happy campers. I really shouldn’t rub it in. I know, but the weather, here, in Corfu has been beautiful for the past week; brilliant sunshine, crisp air, snow-kissed mountains shimmering in the distance. I think I should be out there walking or swimming or something…which leads me nicely on to a question posed by my dear friend over at Alternative Read – what does an over-worked, stressed author/mother/chief cook and bottle washer do for exercise? Answer? Not a lot – although I hasten to add my typing fingers are extremely toned. There just does not seem enough hours in the day to fit in a measly one hour work out {which my spreading pc chair bum desperately needs}.
To be fair to myself, I have tried. I did begin on a workout program two weeks ago. I managed at least four sessions but all the while, my gaze strayed to my screen, the constant messenger ping of mail received tugged at my heart. Oh how I long to go back to four years ago when I was so focused and devoted to exercise. {Blame Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance floor –} Two one hour sessions daily of a routine I put together, followed by the lifting of small weights, not to mention the ballet plies whilst washing up or cooking. And with the arrival of summer, top this up with one-hour morning swim before work. Also, I had been known to perform butt squeezed while standing in the bank queue. Needless to say I was very popular with the old boys waiting for the pensions behind me.
I had never felt or looked so good in all my life – or so I believed. Apparently, I was too thin. I ask you – when can a girl be too thin. Ok, at a mere 43 kilos I was a tad skinny but, hey, did I look good in jeans. Where am I going with this? I have a question – Why is it when someone has been on a diet, lost a lot of weight, up goes the nagging cacophony….oh…..you have lost too weight BUT…who ever comes out and says…hey I think you’ve piled on the pounds and, yes, you do look like a fat f***ck. No-one, is my answer.
And I fear I am straying from the topic. So what do I do to maintain some form of exercise while writing? Ok, it’s confession time. When I am alone, I shove on my disco/ funk play list and boogie on down until my heart is content and my legs give out. Rafa, my rabbit is rather impressed by all of this. He joins in by running around the coffee table.I have this dilemna. I would love to grow old gracefully and not care about my appearence but I do. I want to be slim and wrinkle free but, at the same time, life is too short to give up on life's little pleasures. How can one live without freshly baked chocolate croissanr, pitas, mythos beers and nights out at a favourite taverna? What is the answer, I ask? Easy -money. That way, I could employ a personal trainer,have botox and throw in a bit of lipo suction for good measure. Otherwise I may end up like this...
So what is new in my life this week? Ah yes, a little brag or two. I have received some great reviews for Fragile Dreams.
http://onehundredromances.blogspot.com/2011/01/review-fragile-dreams.html?showComment=1296566146188#c1610128398814922795
http://www.manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=6829
I am waiting on a couple for Written in stone to be posted.
It’s always a great feeling for an author when all their blood sweat and tears is rewarded. I also have a couple of interviews coming up. Oh I feel quite famous. Unfortunately, promoting takes up a huge part of any author’s time. Sometimes I am tearing my hair out because I just want to get back to working on my w.i.p but I know I have promo commitments to fill. What I need is a personal assistant. I think I will advertise. How about…
Wanted. Young, handsome, sexy male between 25 and 30 to assist struggling, gorgeously hot, witty and intelligent author, in a very personal manner, in their goal to topple JK Rowling from her perch. C.V nor references essential. I only ask that all candidates bear more than a passing resemblance to either Enrique Iglesias or Rafa Nadal. The successful applicant will be required to escort me to social functions as well as performing daily duties of cooking, cleaning, shopping, typing and any promotional work I deem necessary. Must have a working knowledge of Heavy Metal, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Big Bang theory.
There, I shall post this in the Times. I wonder if I will receive any applicants.
Good morning, happy campers. I really shouldn’t rub it in. I know, but the weather, here, in Corfu has been beautiful for the past week; brilliant sunshine, crisp air, snow-kissed mountains shimmering in the distance. I think I should be out there walking or swimming or something…which leads me nicely on to a question posed by my dear friend over at Alternative Read – what does an over-worked, stressed author/mother/chief cook and bottle washer do for exercise? Answer? Not a lot – although I hasten to add my typing fingers are extremely toned. There just does not seem enough hours in the day to fit in a measly one hour work out {which my spreading pc chair bum desperately needs}.
To be fair to myself, I have tried. I did begin on a workout program two weeks ago. I managed at least four sessions but all the while, my gaze strayed to my screen, the constant messenger ping of mail received tugged at my heart. Oh how I long to go back to four years ago when I was so focused and devoted to exercise. {Blame Madonna’s Confessions on a Dance floor –} Two one hour sessions daily of a routine I put together, followed by the lifting of small weights, not to mention the ballet plies whilst washing up or cooking. And with the arrival of summer, top this up with one-hour morning swim before work. Also, I had been known to perform butt squeezed while standing in the bank queue. Needless to say I was very popular with the old boys waiting for the pensions behind me.
I had never felt or looked so good in all my life – or so I believed. Apparently, I was too thin. I ask you – when can a girl be too thin. Ok, at a mere 43 kilos I was a tad skinny but, hey, did I look good in jeans. Where am I going with this? I have a question – Why is it when someone has been on a diet, lost a lot of weight, up goes the nagging cacophony….oh…..you have lost too weight BUT…who ever comes out and says…hey I think you’ve piled on the pounds and, yes, you do look like a fat f***ck. No-one, is my answer.
And I fear I am straying from the topic. So what do I do to maintain some form of exercise while writing? Ok, it’s confession time. When I am alone, I shove on my disco/ funk play list and boogie on down until my heart is content and my legs give out. Rafa, my rabbit is rather impressed by all of this. He joins in by running around the coffee table.I have this dilemna. I would love to grow old gracefully and not care about my appearence but I do. I want to be slim and wrinkle free but, at the same time, life is too short to give up on life's little pleasures. How can one live without freshly baked chocolate croissanr, pitas, mythos beers and nights out at a favourite taverna? What is the answer, I ask? Easy -money. That way, I could employ a personal trainer,have botox and throw in a bit of lipo suction for good measure. Otherwise I may end up like this...
So what is new in my life this week? Ah yes, a little brag or two. I have received some great reviews for Fragile Dreams.
http://onehundredromances.blogspot.com/2011/01/review-fragile-dreams.html?showComment=1296566146188#c1610128398814922795
http://www.manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=6829
I am waiting on a couple for Written in stone to be posted.
It’s always a great feeling for an author when all their blood sweat and tears is rewarded. I also have a couple of interviews coming up. Oh I feel quite famous. Unfortunately, promoting takes up a huge part of any author’s time. Sometimes I am tearing my hair out because I just want to get back to working on my w.i.p but I know I have promo commitments to fill. What I need is a personal assistant. I think I will advertise. How about…
Wanted. Young, handsome, sexy male between 25 and 30 to assist struggling, gorgeously hot, witty and intelligent author, in a very personal manner, in their goal to topple JK Rowling from her perch. C.V nor references essential. I only ask that all candidates bear more than a passing resemblance to either Enrique Iglesias or Rafa Nadal. The successful applicant will be required to escort me to social functions as well as performing daily duties of cooking, cleaning, shopping, typing and any promotional work I deem necessary. Must have a working knowledge of Heavy Metal, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and Big Bang theory.
There, I shall post this in the Times. I wonder if I will receive any applicants.
Thursday, 3 February 2011
BUSY, BUSY BUSY
Busy, busy, busy.
It’s been a hectic week over here in sunny/snowy/rainy what the hell is going on with the weather Corfu. I am delighted to say Written in Stone was released on the 1st of the month. Also great news from my publisher. They did extremely well over at the Predators and Editor awards for this year. Congrats to all who carried off a prize.
Great personal news. I received, not one but two very nice reviews for Fragile Dreams
http://onehundredromances.blogspot.com/2011/01/review-fragile-dreams.html?showComment=1296566146188#c1610128398814922795
http://www.manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=6829
I hope these links work.
It is actually quite difficult having two works released so close together. It’s a bit like trying to divide your time fairly between two children. You love both but who has priority?
Also, this week, I achieved the nigh on impossible. I managed to cut an earlier work of mine from 140, 000 words to just over 90, 000. It took a while and lots of heartache over losing some favourite chapters but I am pleased with the end result. I believe I have created a improvised version. This novel was previously released under the title of Letting Go but will now be re-released with MuseItHot under the new title of Cold, Cold Heart.
AND – I am finally getting to grips with my w.i.p, Past Undone. More info on this later. It is still in creative early stages.
So that’s my news, I think. I am sitting here, slurping at a cup of tea, wondering what I can blog about this week. The previous two topics have been somewhat heavy. I believe it is time for a little frivolity.
Time for another look at ten years out of my life…..but first I want to discuss my favourite kind of hero.
For those of you who have been kind enough to read my books, you will notice one thing my handsome stable of men has in common. They all cry quite a bit. That is not to say they are weak. Au contraire, they are emotionally strong and not afraid to show their feelings. They will, if necessary, die for their loved ones, sacrifice what is most precious to them, maybe even kill…..They are warm, funny and possess boyish charm. They are all kind to animals. They have to be or I would kick their arses from here to eternity.
Example: let’s meet Michael from Fragile Dreams
“You didn’t eat much.”
“Oh you know how it is.” She feigned detachment although her heart raced. This was not the time to ruin the evening. She was having too much fun. “It’s just when I cook… well I tend to taste everything and then….well I’m not hungry and…I have been ill.” Oh God, why had she said it? The words had slipped away from her like a slippery eel on the end of a rod, out of her box of pride. She had no desire to court sympathy, especially his.
His quiet I know caught her square on the chin.
“How?” Her defensive comeback betrayed suspicion.
“I just know.”
Breath froze her lungs. He reached across the pale lilac damask table-cloth and covered her hand with his, touch electric, cool fingers caressing her too-warm skin.
“No one told me.” His tenderness made her head swim. “I can read it in your eyes.”
It wasn’t the answer she’d expected.
“You’re so sad,” he continued, words cradling her senses, soft as goose down. “Tired of life.”
Ellie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.
He went on, tone seductive. “I understand, you see. I understand because my sister had the same look. She suffered but, like you, she was a fighter. She had strength. I know you too have that strength. Use it. Don’t give up. You will be ok.”
And still he cradled her hand in a cool clasp, thumb tracing snowflake patterns on her palm. It was too surreal and yet his intensity didn’t frighten her. He breathed sincerity.
“She died, didn’t she?”
Pain flickered in his eyes, giving her the answer.
“She did.” His return was unfaltering. “But you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” She held his gaze, challenging him to reassure her.
“Because…” He smiled. “I won’t let you.”
Crickets chirped out their symphony, piercing the emotionally layered air. Ellie was all out of logical words. Logic had no place in this dream conversation. “Em….cheesecake?”
The tension fragmented around them, their shared laughter giving Jiminy and company a run for his money. Ellie felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was light-headed, free as a bird because….she believed him. He was her salvation.
So, my dear readers, this is the kind of guy who is my hero. Someone who is caring, sensitive – a real man.
And now for a walk down memory lane.
My Top Ten Twenties Moments.
Mmm – this is difficult. So much upheaval in my life: marriage, divorce, moving to Corfu, losing my sister to cancer, another marriage, falling pregnant. I cannot remember exact dates. But let’s concentrate on the fun parts {sorry – pregnancy is not fun}
1} Going to see Superman the Movie in Leicester Square. The moment I lay eyes on Christopher Reeve, I was in love. Kinda weird, seeing I was on my honeymoon.
2} My beautiful black masked silver-blue Afghan puppy, William, winning three championship firsts on his first outing. For any of you who think dog showing is easy, it is not. A lot of hard work and dedication goes into it. Ring craft training, daily exercise to make sure your pooch is in tiptop shape because what is under that magnificent coat is very important. Did I mention the two-hour weekly bath and grooming session? The endless hours on the road? It was great though and the one thing I miss about my life in the UK.
3} Watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller video for the first time. What can I say that has not been said before? Even today, I am enthralled by this dance routine. Will never be one to top it.
4} Watching that historical Borg/McEnroe Wimbledon final. I adored Bjorn and never thought I would find another player to love as much as him but now, of course, I have my Nadal.
5} Fleetwood Mac live at Wembley Arena. Superb. What else can one say about the incredible Stevie Nicks and co?
6} Torvill and Dean winning the gold medal for Ice Dance at the Sarajevo Olympics. Sixes across the board and still one of the most spine-tingling routines ever to grace an ice rink.
7} My first view of Pontikonissi {Mouse Island} from my hotel window. I knew there and then Corfu was the place for me. The Oasis Hotel was where I landed my first job and where I met my hubby to be. Incidentally, 26 years later, I am back working there as receptionist. What can I say? My disco dancing days are over.
8} Hiring out a moped and touring the island with my friend Sara. Back then, Corfu still had many undeveloped beaches, Glyfada being one of them. We arrived there just as the sun was setting. I remember to this day, bathing in that glorious sea, laying after on the warm sand, thinking I was in paradise.
9} Staying up all night with friends and then breakfasting on toast and hot chocolate on the famous Liston of Corfu. We would sit there all day and just watch the world go by.
10} Running around Corfu with my dear friend Wendy Thompson, playing at the Famous Five. How we avoided a term in Corfu’s notorious Psycho ward, I don’t know but then I have come to realize, the inmates of Corfu Psychiatric Hospital are the sane ones. All the nutters – like me – are running loose on the outside. I had a wonderful summer with Wendy, probably because she is on the same wavelength as I am. Crazy! Can’t remember if she was George or Dick.
That’s it, folks. Another insight into my oft-wacky world. Next top ten will my thirties. Oh dear, serious motherhood time. I am sure I will find something nutty to discuss. Live long and prosper, keep the faith and may the force be with you.
Viviane
Wendy and I in Famous Five mode doing our synchronised swimming routine.
<
And here I still am....27 years on.
It’s been a hectic week over here in sunny/snowy/rainy what the hell is going on with the weather Corfu. I am delighted to say Written in Stone was released on the 1st of the month. Also great news from my publisher. They did extremely well over at the Predators and Editor awards for this year. Congrats to all who carried off a prize.
Great personal news. I received, not one but two very nice reviews for Fragile Dreams
http://onehundredromances.blogspot.com/2011/01/review-fragile-dreams.html?showComment=1296566146188#c1610128398814922795
http://www.manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=6829
I hope these links work.
It is actually quite difficult having two works released so close together. It’s a bit like trying to divide your time fairly between two children. You love both but who has priority?
Also, this week, I achieved the nigh on impossible. I managed to cut an earlier work of mine from 140, 000 words to just over 90, 000. It took a while and lots of heartache over losing some favourite chapters but I am pleased with the end result. I believe I have created a improvised version. This novel was previously released under the title of Letting Go but will now be re-released with MuseItHot under the new title of Cold, Cold Heart.
AND – I am finally getting to grips with my w.i.p, Past Undone. More info on this later. It is still in creative early stages.
So that’s my news, I think. I am sitting here, slurping at a cup of tea, wondering what I can blog about this week. The previous two topics have been somewhat heavy. I believe it is time for a little frivolity.
Time for another look at ten years out of my life…..but first I want to discuss my favourite kind of hero.
For those of you who have been kind enough to read my books, you will notice one thing my handsome stable of men has in common. They all cry quite a bit. That is not to say they are weak. Au contraire, they are emotionally strong and not afraid to show their feelings. They will, if necessary, die for their loved ones, sacrifice what is most precious to them, maybe even kill…..They are warm, funny and possess boyish charm. They are all kind to animals. They have to be or I would kick their arses from here to eternity.
Example: let’s meet Michael from Fragile Dreams
“You didn’t eat much.”
“Oh you know how it is.” She feigned detachment although her heart raced. This was not the time to ruin the evening. She was having too much fun. “It’s just when I cook… well I tend to taste everything and then….well I’m not hungry and…I have been ill.” Oh God, why had she said it? The words had slipped away from her like a slippery eel on the end of a rod, out of her box of pride. She had no desire to court sympathy, especially his.
His quiet I know caught her square on the chin.
“How?” Her defensive comeback betrayed suspicion.
“I just know.”
Breath froze her lungs. He reached across the pale lilac damask table-cloth and covered her hand with his, touch electric, cool fingers caressing her too-warm skin.
“No one told me.” His tenderness made her head swim. “I can read it in your eyes.”
It wasn’t the answer she’d expected.
“You’re so sad,” he continued, words cradling her senses, soft as goose down. “Tired of life.”
Ellie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.
He went on, tone seductive. “I understand, you see. I understand because my sister had the same look. She suffered but, like you, she was a fighter. She had strength. I know you too have that strength. Use it. Don’t give up. You will be ok.”
And still he cradled her hand in a cool clasp, thumb tracing snowflake patterns on her palm. It was too surreal and yet his intensity didn’t frighten her. He breathed sincerity.
“She died, didn’t she?”
Pain flickered in his eyes, giving her the answer.
“She did.” His return was unfaltering. “But you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” She held his gaze, challenging him to reassure her.
“Because…” He smiled. “I won’t let you.”
Crickets chirped out their symphony, piercing the emotionally layered air. Ellie was all out of logical words. Logic had no place in this dream conversation. “Em….cheesecake?”
The tension fragmented around them, their shared laughter giving Jiminy and company a run for his money. Ellie felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She was light-headed, free as a bird because….she believed him. He was her salvation.
So, my dear readers, this is the kind of guy who is my hero. Someone who is caring, sensitive – a real man.
And now for a walk down memory lane.
My Top Ten Twenties Moments.
Mmm – this is difficult. So much upheaval in my life: marriage, divorce, moving to Corfu, losing my sister to cancer, another marriage, falling pregnant. I cannot remember exact dates. But let’s concentrate on the fun parts {sorry – pregnancy is not fun}
1} Going to see Superman the Movie in Leicester Square. The moment I lay eyes on Christopher Reeve, I was in love. Kinda weird, seeing I was on my honeymoon.
2} My beautiful black masked silver-blue Afghan puppy, William, winning three championship firsts on his first outing. For any of you who think dog showing is easy, it is not. A lot of hard work and dedication goes into it. Ring craft training, daily exercise to make sure your pooch is in tiptop shape because what is under that magnificent coat is very important. Did I mention the two-hour weekly bath and grooming session? The endless hours on the road? It was great though and the one thing I miss about my life in the UK.
3} Watching Michael Jackson’s Thriller video for the first time. What can I say that has not been said before? Even today, I am enthralled by this dance routine. Will never be one to top it.
4} Watching that historical Borg/McEnroe Wimbledon final. I adored Bjorn and never thought I would find another player to love as much as him but now, of course, I have my Nadal.
5} Fleetwood Mac live at Wembley Arena. Superb. What else can one say about the incredible Stevie Nicks and co?
6} Torvill and Dean winning the gold medal for Ice Dance at the Sarajevo Olympics. Sixes across the board and still one of the most spine-tingling routines ever to grace an ice rink.
7} My first view of Pontikonissi {Mouse Island} from my hotel window. I knew there and then Corfu was the place for me. The Oasis Hotel was where I landed my first job and where I met my hubby to be. Incidentally, 26 years later, I am back working there as receptionist. What can I say? My disco dancing days are over.
8} Hiring out a moped and touring the island with my friend Sara. Back then, Corfu still had many undeveloped beaches, Glyfada being one of them. We arrived there just as the sun was setting. I remember to this day, bathing in that glorious sea, laying after on the warm sand, thinking I was in paradise.
9} Staying up all night with friends and then breakfasting on toast and hot chocolate on the famous Liston of Corfu. We would sit there all day and just watch the world go by.
10} Running around Corfu with my dear friend Wendy Thompson, playing at the Famous Five. How we avoided a term in Corfu’s notorious Psycho ward, I don’t know but then I have come to realize, the inmates of Corfu Psychiatric Hospital are the sane ones. All the nutters – like me – are running loose on the outside. I had a wonderful summer with Wendy, probably because she is on the same wavelength as I am. Crazy! Can’t remember if she was George or Dick.
That’s it, folks. Another insight into my oft-wacky world. Next top ten will my thirties. Oh dear, serious motherhood time. I am sure I will find something nutty to discuss. Live long and prosper, keep the faith and may the force be with you.
Viviane
Wendy and I in Famous Five mode doing our synchronised swimming routine.
<
And here I still am....27 years on.
Thursday, 27 January 2011
If I were you……
Morning all from a frosty Corfu. Yes – yesterday -1. Hey – for us, this is positively Arctic.
So, today I thought I would rant about that one little phrase that drives me crazier than any other. I wouldn’t put up with that if I were you. Well, you are not me, are you? In the words of Mr. Bond…never say never.
In a way, this rant is a follow on from the last blog post in so much as it touches on another issue raised in my novel, Fragile Dreams.
Why did Lisa always feel it necessary to remind her of her husband’s iron-rod of control? But that was women; secretly delighting in even their friends’ less than perfect marriage. It drew the spotlight away from their own miserable existence.
Ellie is a women trapped in a loveless marriage. Worse, her husband is a psychological bully. Before I go any further, I must stress I am not going to discuss domestic physical violence. I am not qualified to do so. It is a whole different ball game. No – I would like to focus more on the subtle mind games many men play on their partners. It was a comment made by a friend of mine that led me to consider this topic. We were discussing a mutual acquaintance who, for want of a better word, is controlled by her spouse. His wants always take first place in their household. She bends to his will. My friend’s comment was….how do these women get themselves in that situation…..if that were me, I wouldn’t put up with it. Stop right there, I said. How do you know what you would do? Second, who the hell are you to judge?
I am sure no one sets out for this to happen but that is the thing about control freaks. They are clever, they know what buttons to push and before they know it, their victims are sucked in, seduced maybe by a sweet smile and deceiving words…it’s because I care about you. I can understand how seductive it is in the first throes of romance to believe your man is so possessive because he adores you. A pattern is set, one that is hard to break and once the children come along, it is often too late to change it. More often than not, a woman will put up with the verbal abuse, the constant nagging to try and keep the peace. Of course, for those foreign women there is the added problem; if they were to leave, were can they go? Back to their home country? Not always feasible. One has to look at it from the children’s point of view. In their hearts they are Greek. They do not want to leave everything familiar to them.
My point – do not be too quick to judge. In fact, by coming out with this rubbish, all you are doing is making this person feel even more inadequate. It’s added pressure. If you know someone in this situation then try to be supportive and understanding. What they need is a friend, not a jury.
But what is it about women? Why do we always have to judge? If it isn’t about relationships, it’s about how we raise our kids? Judging, judging – always judging. You don’t let him/ her do that do you? I wouldn’t put up with it. If he was mine blah blah. Oh please – we all have our ideas on child rearing and while we are on the subject of child rearing, what is it with this competitiveness? You know the parent I am talking about. Whose sole conversation revolves around her children’s achievement and begins every conversation with and what is such and such up to, purely so they can ram down your throat what a band of budding little geniuses they have stashed at home. Please – let your kids breathe. Let me breath. Life is not a battlefield. There are no winners or losers. And – I beseech you, less of the…if I was you…
Let’s move on to a happier topic. Music. Where would we be without it? It certainly rocks my world. It is the inspiration behind most of my work. I hear a song and – whoosh – it gives me the mood and atmosphere I am seeking. Do I play music while I write? Not initially, while I am scribbling out my first draft. I am too immersed in my story for any distraction. If I were to play my favourite artists, I would lay down my pen, pick up my air guitar and burst into song or worse – leave my desk completely and jump into disco mode. However, once my tale is down on pc and I begin the tweaking process, then it’s no holding back. The music blares from all speakers. My play list? Depends on my mood. For those who know me, Savage Garden and Darren Hayes are at the top, closely followed by anything heavy metal and rock. I do confess to being a huge Gaga fan. There is something about that feisty, talented, arty young woman that appeals to me. What I do have is particular songs to fit the mood of each one of my stories; a set of lyrics which helped me form the characters.
Cold, Cold Heart – Daniel: ‘Mine’ by Savage Garden http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwjWfal3v4Y
Actually, Daniel has two songs: Electricity by Anathema
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LwN_J88-Nc
Dreamweek – Izzie: ‘Pour Que Tu m’aime Encore’ by Céline Dion
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDkPWd6B7rU&feature=related
Fragile Dreams – Ellie: ‘In Your Eyes’ by Darren Hayes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFTmt27R4K4
Written in Stone – Cassie: ‘I Just Want You to Love Me’ by Darren Hayes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHN4EQxyf5Y
Class Act – Rebecca: {still looking for a home} ‘Name of the Game’ by Abba
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ90ZqH0PWI
Past Undone {wip} –Lily: ‘You Can Still be Free’ by Savage Garden
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AQuiYPUBiE
Spin – Sara: {ongoing project since…ever, really} ‘Sara” by Fleetwood Mac
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHJb87nNsGY
Class Act – Rebecca: {still looking for a home} ‘Name of the Game’ by Abba
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ90ZqH0PWI
Well, I hope you have enjoyed my little selection. If I had to pick an all-time favourite? It has got to be Sara – Fleetwood Mac.{Well I always wanted to be Stevie Nicks}. See you next week. Back to frivolity and my Top Ten Twenties Moments.
Viv
So, today I thought I would rant about that one little phrase that drives me crazier than any other. I wouldn’t put up with that if I were you. Well, you are not me, are you? In the words of Mr. Bond…never say never.
In a way, this rant is a follow on from the last blog post in so much as it touches on another issue raised in my novel, Fragile Dreams.
Why did Lisa always feel it necessary to remind her of her husband’s iron-rod of control? But that was women; secretly delighting in even their friends’ less than perfect marriage. It drew the spotlight away from their own miserable existence.
Ellie is a women trapped in a loveless marriage. Worse, her husband is a psychological bully. Before I go any further, I must stress I am not going to discuss domestic physical violence. I am not qualified to do so. It is a whole different ball game. No – I would like to focus more on the subtle mind games many men play on their partners. It was a comment made by a friend of mine that led me to consider this topic. We were discussing a mutual acquaintance who, for want of a better word, is controlled by her spouse. His wants always take first place in their household. She bends to his will. My friend’s comment was….how do these women get themselves in that situation…..if that were me, I wouldn’t put up with it. Stop right there, I said. How do you know what you would do? Second, who the hell are you to judge?
I am sure no one sets out for this to happen but that is the thing about control freaks. They are clever, they know what buttons to push and before they know it, their victims are sucked in, seduced maybe by a sweet smile and deceiving words…it’s because I care about you. I can understand how seductive it is in the first throes of romance to believe your man is so possessive because he adores you. A pattern is set, one that is hard to break and once the children come along, it is often too late to change it. More often than not, a woman will put up with the verbal abuse, the constant nagging to try and keep the peace. Of course, for those foreign women there is the added problem; if they were to leave, were can they go? Back to their home country? Not always feasible. One has to look at it from the children’s point of view. In their hearts they are Greek. They do not want to leave everything familiar to them.
My point – do not be too quick to judge. In fact, by coming out with this rubbish, all you are doing is making this person feel even more inadequate. It’s added pressure. If you know someone in this situation then try to be supportive and understanding. What they need is a friend, not a jury.
But what is it about women? Why do we always have to judge? If it isn’t about relationships, it’s about how we raise our kids? Judging, judging – always judging. You don’t let him/ her do that do you? I wouldn’t put up with it. If he was mine blah blah. Oh please – we all have our ideas on child rearing and while we are on the subject of child rearing, what is it with this competitiveness? You know the parent I am talking about. Whose sole conversation revolves around her children’s achievement and begins every conversation with and what is such and such up to, purely so they can ram down your throat what a band of budding little geniuses they have stashed at home. Please – let your kids breathe. Let me breath. Life is not a battlefield. There are no winners or losers. And – I beseech you, less of the…if I was you…
Let’s move on to a happier topic. Music. Where would we be without it? It certainly rocks my world. It is the inspiration behind most of my work. I hear a song and – whoosh – it gives me the mood and atmosphere I am seeking. Do I play music while I write? Not initially, while I am scribbling out my first draft. I am too immersed in my story for any distraction. If I were to play my favourite artists, I would lay down my pen, pick up my air guitar and burst into song or worse – leave my desk completely and jump into disco mode. However, once my tale is down on pc and I begin the tweaking process, then it’s no holding back. The music blares from all speakers. My play list? Depends on my mood. For those who know me, Savage Garden and Darren Hayes are at the top, closely followed by anything heavy metal and rock. I do confess to being a huge Gaga fan. There is something about that feisty, talented, arty young woman that appeals to me. What I do have is particular songs to fit the mood of each one of my stories; a set of lyrics which helped me form the characters.
Cold, Cold Heart – Daniel: ‘Mine’ by Savage Garden http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwjWfal3v4Y
Actually, Daniel has two songs: Electricity by Anathema
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LwN_J88-Nc
Dreamweek – Izzie: ‘Pour Que Tu m’aime Encore’ by Céline Dion
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDkPWd6B7rU&feature=related
Fragile Dreams – Ellie: ‘In Your Eyes’ by Darren Hayes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFTmt27R4K4
Written in Stone – Cassie: ‘I Just Want You to Love Me’ by Darren Hayes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHN4EQxyf5Y
Class Act – Rebecca: {still looking for a home} ‘Name of the Game’ by Abba
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ90ZqH0PWI
Past Undone {wip} –Lily: ‘You Can Still be Free’ by Savage Garden
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AQuiYPUBiE
Spin – Sara: {ongoing project since…ever, really} ‘Sara” by Fleetwood Mac
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHJb87nNsGY
Class Act – Rebecca: {still looking for a home} ‘Name of the Game’ by Abba
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJ90ZqH0PWI
Well, I hope you have enjoyed my little selection. If I had to pick an all-time favourite? It has got to be Sara – Fleetwood Mac.{Well I always wanted to be Stevie Nicks}. See you next week. Back to frivolity and my Top Ten Twenties Moments.
Viv
Thursday, 13 January 2011
Life is Fragile
Kalimera. Long time, no speak. I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year and I wish you all the best for 2011.
Ah – 2011. One year to go til the fated year – if you believe in all of that. Who knows? The way the world is going there could be something in it. But for now, let’s all stay positive.
Today is a good day for me. My second novel in the Dream series is released through Red Rose Publishing. Once again, I take you on a Grecian journey to the imaginary island of Kuros {yes it is inspired by my own beloved Corfu}. We meet up with some of the characters from Dreamweek, Isabella and David Wells. Once again, the tale is set against the backdrop of the tourist industry but, more important, Fragile Dreams tells the tale of Ellie Rouva, a young woman recovering from Breast cancer; a woman whose life has been turned on its head and doesn’t know where life may lead her – until she meets Michael.
I originally intended this blog to be a follow on from the last; my ten top moments….but with the release of Fragile, I thought it might be a good idea to touch on the subject of breast cancer. I am somewhat of an expert on the matter, having been through it twice. Expert isn’t really the correct word; everyone’s experience is different, everyone copes in a different way. I would like to give you my take on it.
First off, it’s a topic usually I steer clear of discussing. Why? To be honest, after ten years of the disease being part of my life, I am a little bored with it. I hate all the drama surrounding it; the endless magazine articles, the survivors being wheeled out on chat shows, the hushed tones when folk find out what I have ‘been’ through. Yes, I have been through a lot but hey, so have lots of folk. What is it about the word, Cancer, which evokes such reaction? Someone says…. I have heart problems, liver disease and folk say – oh, that’s sad. But say Cancer and people pale before your eyes.
And that is what I hate most. It is an illness like any other and certainly not the hopeless situation folk have been led to believe– which brings me back to the endless MGM produced magazine articles. Listen up, folks. It needn’t mean a death sentence. Great strides have been made and positive mindset plays a huge role. Again, this is why I hate the Hollywood take on it all. Please, less of the drama.
One moment has stayed with me. It was my first time round. I was in hospital, recovering from a full mastectomy and reconstruction {now that was a barrel of laughs. Pain? Never again}. It was a Sunday evening. All the ward new intakes were scheduled for surgery the following morning. I knew they were scared; who wouldn’t be but what did we do? We set up a card ring and got drunk on laughter. I think, when the consultant came round, he thought we had all lost the plot. {He was bloody gorgeous, btw. Daniel Craig eyes and boyish charm. Bloody good doc too. Wherever you are, Mr. Drabble, we salute you}
A friend of mine constantly says to me. You are/were so strong. Strong? I had no choice. Once over the initial shock, I just had to get on with it. I was too preoccupied fighting the fight and looking after my kids to think about the outcome. As a mother, it’s just what I had to do. First time round, my children were young and probably scared. They knew I had lost my elder sister to the disease so there was no pulling the wool over their eyes. There was no way I could not be upbeat.
Going through both times, one thing struck me. The people around you often find it harder to cope. A word of advice to anyone who has someone close to them coping with Breast cancer or any life-threatening illness. All we want is to be treated as normal. I know that’s all I wanted. I only wanted my life to get back to normal. I hated the disruption – never mind the joys of Chemo and surgery. I wanted to be me again but the folk around me kept reminding me that I couldn’t be. Oh but you shouldn’t go back to work. Why the hell not? Better to be occupied than to lie around at home all day, feeling sorry for myself. I was going to throw up anyway so might as well get paid at the same time. I know the concern is well meant but please give the patient credit. We know what’s what. We know what we have to do to fight.
And please, don’t tell anyone losing your hair doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, and that we should just focus on getting well. Duh – a tad condescending, I believe. And, sorry, losing one’s hair is a big deal initially but it gets better. Quite fun wearing different hats. And don’t tell us we look fine when we know we look like an extra from MJ’s thriller video. We prefer honesty.
But there is a plus side to everything, even Chemotherapy.
1} No more leg shaving needed for months.
2} best diet known to mankind
3} You save a fortune on hair conditioner.
4} You can act crazy and blame it on the drugs.
So that is my rant for the day. I am sure there is a lot more I could say on the subject but I wanted to give a little more insight to the character of Ellie. To quote a line from Fragile Dreams.
“Thing is…well, the way I see it, everyone flirts with death. Every day of our lives we take risks. I am no different. My time just came around sooner.
I am not sure if this has helped or maybe will help someone in the future. As I said at the beginning, it’s a personal battle. No one handles it in the same way. What I can do is a little bit to help in the research so that, perhaps, in the future, there won’t be a need for a blog like this. I have asked my publisher, Red Rose, to donate any royalties I may make to breast cancer research. So, my dear friends, I leave you with a short excerpt:
“But, Michael,” Leaning forward, Ellie brushed his cool cheek with nervous fingertips. “We have no control over our lives. That’s one thing I have learned from all of this.” Embarrassed, she shrunk back in her chair. “I think that’s what annoyed Pavlos so.”
“Annoyed.” Honey eyebrows drew together.
“Oh yes.”Ellie failed to keep her contempt at bay. “For the first time in his life, Mr. Pavlos the Omnipotent lost control of me. To him, my illness was an irritation, a hiccup in his well-ordered life.
“Seriously? I find that so hard to understand. Surely he was afraid for you. Perhaps it was his way of dealing with his fears?”
Ellie laughed. “Maybe. Granted, he made all the right gestures, spouted forth with meaningful phrases but his words were empty. Actions do speak louder and his clearly stated I was a disappointment and I’m sorry. I’m putting you in an awkward position. Pavlos is your boss.”
“He’s not my boss; I only work for him.”
His forcefulness surprised her. His eyes held defiance. Ellie surmised that his outward tranquil nature disguised a vein of steel.
“Please...” The glint dispersed. “Go on. What do mean by disappointed? Surely he didn’t blame you for being ill?”
“No.” Ellie rummaged in the fruit bowl and pulled out a ripe strawberry. Biting into it, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s how I handled everything that he took issue with. You see, when the doctor told us I would need a full mastectomy I thought Pavlos was going to throw up. The thought of it horrified him. His perfect wife — flawed? He wanted me to have reconstructive surgery but I refused. He begged, actually. First time he’s begged me for anything but I didn’t give in. And why should I?” The words scraped at her too dry throat, a stockpile of resentment clawing up and out of the depths of her months of despair. “It’s my body, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He covered her forearms with comforting hands, making the hairs there stand to attention. His touch, again, threatened to release those tears. How long had it been since Pavlos had shown such sincere affection? Too long. She couldn’t cry. It would be too awkward. “And then,” she pressed on, fighting against waves of emotion. “When my hair fell out, I refused to wear a wig. I don’t know why really. It seemed…well it was the ultimate insult. My body was in enough pain without having that added discomfort. Can you believe losing my hair upset me more than anything? Silly isn’t it, to be so vain when one’s life is hanging in the balance. At least that’s what my dear mother in law told me.” She didn’t need to hear his answer; gut instinct told her he understood. “As for my friends, they said that it didn’t matter in the scheme of things and that I should focus on getting well. As if being pumped full of poison every three weeks isn’t ‘focusing’ enough. People can be so patronizing.”
“I agree.”
“Thing is…well, the way I see it, everyone flirts with death. Every day of our lives we take risks. I am no different. My time just came around sooner. They told me I should stop trying to be brave. I’m not brave, only realistic.”
“You won’t die.”
“I know.” She fashioned what she hoped was a convincing smile. “You won’t let me.”
“You won’t die.”
Silence engulfed them, a cotton wool cloud blanketing reality.
“How can you be so sure? Ellie whispered, almost too afraid to ask, wanting it so much to be true.
“I just am. I…I feel things. Here.” Capturing her trembling hand, he brought it up to span his chest. “Here….in my heart. You’re afraid, Ellie. Don’t be.”
Ellie drew in her breath, holding it until she felt faint. It was as if a whirlpool sucked her down. How did he know that? She’s never admitted it to anyone; not even herself.
Fragile Dreams – purchase link
http://redrosepublishing.com/books/product_info.php?products_id=836&CDpath=2
Viviane
Ah – 2011. One year to go til the fated year – if you believe in all of that. Who knows? The way the world is going there could be something in it. But for now, let’s all stay positive.
Today is a good day for me. My second novel in the Dream series is released through Red Rose Publishing. Once again, I take you on a Grecian journey to the imaginary island of Kuros {yes it is inspired by my own beloved Corfu}. We meet up with some of the characters from Dreamweek, Isabella and David Wells. Once again, the tale is set against the backdrop of the tourist industry but, more important, Fragile Dreams tells the tale of Ellie Rouva, a young woman recovering from Breast cancer; a woman whose life has been turned on its head and doesn’t know where life may lead her – until she meets Michael.
I originally intended this blog to be a follow on from the last; my ten top moments….but with the release of Fragile, I thought it might be a good idea to touch on the subject of breast cancer. I am somewhat of an expert on the matter, having been through it twice. Expert isn’t really the correct word; everyone’s experience is different, everyone copes in a different way. I would like to give you my take on it.
First off, it’s a topic usually I steer clear of discussing. Why? To be honest, after ten years of the disease being part of my life, I am a little bored with it. I hate all the drama surrounding it; the endless magazine articles, the survivors being wheeled out on chat shows, the hushed tones when folk find out what I have ‘been’ through. Yes, I have been through a lot but hey, so have lots of folk. What is it about the word, Cancer, which evokes such reaction? Someone says…. I have heart problems, liver disease and folk say – oh, that’s sad. But say Cancer and people pale before your eyes.
And that is what I hate most. It is an illness like any other and certainly not the hopeless situation folk have been led to believe– which brings me back to the endless MGM produced magazine articles. Listen up, folks. It needn’t mean a death sentence. Great strides have been made and positive mindset plays a huge role. Again, this is why I hate the Hollywood take on it all. Please, less of the drama.
One moment has stayed with me. It was my first time round. I was in hospital, recovering from a full mastectomy and reconstruction {now that was a barrel of laughs. Pain? Never again}. It was a Sunday evening. All the ward new intakes were scheduled for surgery the following morning. I knew they were scared; who wouldn’t be but what did we do? We set up a card ring and got drunk on laughter. I think, when the consultant came round, he thought we had all lost the plot. {He was bloody gorgeous, btw. Daniel Craig eyes and boyish charm. Bloody good doc too. Wherever you are, Mr. Drabble, we salute you}
A friend of mine constantly says to me. You are/were so strong. Strong? I had no choice. Once over the initial shock, I just had to get on with it. I was too preoccupied fighting the fight and looking after my kids to think about the outcome. As a mother, it’s just what I had to do. First time round, my children were young and probably scared. They knew I had lost my elder sister to the disease so there was no pulling the wool over their eyes. There was no way I could not be upbeat.
Going through both times, one thing struck me. The people around you often find it harder to cope. A word of advice to anyone who has someone close to them coping with Breast cancer or any life-threatening illness. All we want is to be treated as normal. I know that’s all I wanted. I only wanted my life to get back to normal. I hated the disruption – never mind the joys of Chemo and surgery. I wanted to be me again but the folk around me kept reminding me that I couldn’t be. Oh but you shouldn’t go back to work. Why the hell not? Better to be occupied than to lie around at home all day, feeling sorry for myself. I was going to throw up anyway so might as well get paid at the same time. I know the concern is well meant but please give the patient credit. We know what’s what. We know what we have to do to fight.
And please, don’t tell anyone losing your hair doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, and that we should just focus on getting well. Duh – a tad condescending, I believe. And, sorry, losing one’s hair is a big deal initially but it gets better. Quite fun wearing different hats. And don’t tell us we look fine when we know we look like an extra from MJ’s thriller video. We prefer honesty.
But there is a plus side to everything, even Chemotherapy.
1} No more leg shaving needed for months.
2} best diet known to mankind
3} You save a fortune on hair conditioner.
4} You can act crazy and blame it on the drugs.
So that is my rant for the day. I am sure there is a lot more I could say on the subject but I wanted to give a little more insight to the character of Ellie. To quote a line from Fragile Dreams.
“Thing is…well, the way I see it, everyone flirts with death. Every day of our lives we take risks. I am no different. My time just came around sooner.
I am not sure if this has helped or maybe will help someone in the future. As I said at the beginning, it’s a personal battle. No one handles it in the same way. What I can do is a little bit to help in the research so that, perhaps, in the future, there won’t be a need for a blog like this. I have asked my publisher, Red Rose, to donate any royalties I may make to breast cancer research. So, my dear friends, I leave you with a short excerpt:
“But, Michael,” Leaning forward, Ellie brushed his cool cheek with nervous fingertips. “We have no control over our lives. That’s one thing I have learned from all of this.” Embarrassed, she shrunk back in her chair. “I think that’s what annoyed Pavlos so.”
“Annoyed.” Honey eyebrows drew together.
“Oh yes.”Ellie failed to keep her contempt at bay. “For the first time in his life, Mr. Pavlos the Omnipotent lost control of me. To him, my illness was an irritation, a hiccup in his well-ordered life.
“Seriously? I find that so hard to understand. Surely he was afraid for you. Perhaps it was his way of dealing with his fears?”
Ellie laughed. “Maybe. Granted, he made all the right gestures, spouted forth with meaningful phrases but his words were empty. Actions do speak louder and his clearly stated I was a disappointment and I’m sorry. I’m putting you in an awkward position. Pavlos is your boss.”
“He’s not my boss; I only work for him.”
His forcefulness surprised her. His eyes held defiance. Ellie surmised that his outward tranquil nature disguised a vein of steel.
“Please...” The glint dispersed. “Go on. What do mean by disappointed? Surely he didn’t blame you for being ill?”
“No.” Ellie rummaged in the fruit bowl and pulled out a ripe strawberry. Biting into it, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s how I handled everything that he took issue with. You see, when the doctor told us I would need a full mastectomy I thought Pavlos was going to throw up. The thought of it horrified him. His perfect wife — flawed? He wanted me to have reconstructive surgery but I refused. He begged, actually. First time he’s begged me for anything but I didn’t give in. And why should I?” The words scraped at her too dry throat, a stockpile of resentment clawing up and out of the depths of her months of despair. “It’s my body, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He covered her forearms with comforting hands, making the hairs there stand to attention. His touch, again, threatened to release those tears. How long had it been since Pavlos had shown such sincere affection? Too long. She couldn’t cry. It would be too awkward. “And then,” she pressed on, fighting against waves of emotion. “When my hair fell out, I refused to wear a wig. I don’t know why really. It seemed…well it was the ultimate insult. My body was in enough pain without having that added discomfort. Can you believe losing my hair upset me more than anything? Silly isn’t it, to be so vain when one’s life is hanging in the balance. At least that’s what my dear mother in law told me.” She didn’t need to hear his answer; gut instinct told her he understood. “As for my friends, they said that it didn’t matter in the scheme of things and that I should focus on getting well. As if being pumped full of poison every three weeks isn’t ‘focusing’ enough. People can be so patronizing.”
“I agree.”
“Thing is…well, the way I see it, everyone flirts with death. Every day of our lives we take risks. I am no different. My time just came around sooner. They told me I should stop trying to be brave. I’m not brave, only realistic.”
“You won’t die.”
“I know.” She fashioned what she hoped was a convincing smile. “You won’t let me.”
“You won’t die.”
Silence engulfed them, a cotton wool cloud blanketing reality.
“How can you be so sure? Ellie whispered, almost too afraid to ask, wanting it so much to be true.
“I just am. I…I feel things. Here.” Capturing her trembling hand, he brought it up to span his chest. “Here….in my heart. You’re afraid, Ellie. Don’t be.”
Ellie drew in her breath, holding it until she felt faint. It was as if a whirlpool sucked her down. How did he know that? She’s never admitted it to anyone; not even herself.
Fragile Dreams – purchase link
http://redrosepublishing.com/books/product_info.php?products_id=836&CDpath=2
Viviane
Monday, 20 December 2010
My Top Ten Teen Moments
Winter is here and I don’t like it. Those of you who did me the honour of reading last week’s blog post will know I spent the first 4 years of my life in Singapore. I still maintain this is why I have such low tolerance to the cold.
People often ask, do we have snow in Greece? Oh yes, is my answer. While not much will fall on Corfu {apart from the northern mountains}, just across the narrow stretch of Ionian sea, the mainland mountain ranges resemble a winter wonderland. Greece is more than sun-kissed islands. The terrain is mountainous, with some of the last remaining virgin forests in Europe. Anyone who watched the devastating fires of 2008 will attest to this and understand why the fires were such a tragedy for the country. Anyway, I digress……
Last week I shared with you my top ten childhood moments and, as promised, this week I will attempt to list my top ten teen moments. When I got to thinking about this, I realized I had bitten off more than I had bargained for. The reason – my teen years were not always that great. Age 13, my family hit some rough times. My father, in an attempt to better our lives, made some decisions that ultimately resulted in a vast change of life style for us all and a complete upheaval from all we knew and loved, a fact which contributed to my mother having a breakdown. Suddenly, I was forced to grow up and become the buffer between harsh reality and my younger sisters’ childlike confusion. Looking back on it now, as a parent myself, I do not blame my parents. I have learned from experience, as parents we are human and thus all make mistakes. We are not infallible. To cut a long story short, we left Glasgow to try and make a life in France. It didn’t work out. The UK was not yet a member of the EU and it was tough to find work. After 6 months, we left the continent, ending up in Huntingdon, Cambs and this is where I remained til I married my first husband {oh how Liz Taylor} at age 20. Anyway, life was not all bad and I did experience many high moments. Here is my list…
1} Glasgow age 13 – singing a duet with my best friend, Allison, at my brother’s wedding. We really thought we were the bees’ knees - a female Simon and Garfunkel. I remember it to this day. There we were, up in the balcony, decked out in our best long frocks, minister announcing us, congregation as serious as hell and what did we do? We broke down at verse two of Morning has Broken and collapsed into giggles. My sister-in-law hasn’t forgiven me to this day.
2} Writing my first piece of descriptive prose for an English assignment. My teacher read it out in class and it was then I realized I just may have a talent for this writing lark.
3} No man’s land Age 13 – driving to France with sisters and parents. The whole trip was a blast. Exciting for us. France is a beautiful country. The most memorable day was stopping over in Fontainebleau. We stayed in a very old hotel, across the road from the palace and slept in the same room as one of Napoleon’s artists. It was amazing. In the morning, we breakfasted in a beautiful walled garden. I can still taste the aromatic bowls of steaming café au lait and the melt-in-your-mouth freshly baked croissant.
4} Spain – age 13. My first sight and smell of the Mediterranean Sea, golden sands and warm, balmy evenings strolling along Cambrils pier, sharing a plate of fresh sardines with my parents, French uncle and my beloved Grandmother. For me, it was a dream come true.
5}Spain – age 13. Taking my grandmother to the local Spanish fiesta. It was wonderful. We danced and drank sangria and she wore my big sombrero.
6 {a, b and c} Huntingdon, UK – fast forward to age 15. New life, new school, new friends – and falling in love with Donny Osmond. I have made this a 3-part answer because Donny was the root of three most memorable episodes
a} After a bout of tears and tantrums, when my mother refused to allow me to camp out on the streets of London overnight in order to secure a ticket to the Osmonds concert, I set off the next fine morning with my friends, resplendent in our Osmond badge encrusted coats and Donny caps for London. Of course, being 12 hours too late, there weren’t any tickets left. A riot quickly followed. Thousands of disgruntled teenage girls went crazy. Looking back on it now, I sort of feel sorry for the police. In our 70’s wedges, we all got a few lethal shin kicks in. Still ended up with no tickets but great fun nevertheless.
b} Heathrow airport. Joining thousands of other screaming, hysterical Osmond fans, I waited with my friends for the boys’ plane to arrive. When it did, I clambered up to stand on the 5in wooden railing of the viewing terrace wall. To this day, I can feel it bending under the weight of too many of us. I later found out that another section of the wall had collapsed and several fans were hurt. Of course, guess whose mother rung the airport and asked if Viviane was ok? Very emotional time but an experience. Kids are no fun these days.
c} Well what do you know? Fighting police again. This time in Glasgow. My friend and I followed the group up there, found out where they were staying and proceeded to follow their trail around the city. Finally found the right hotel and proceeded to scream our heads off. The boys obviously approved because they threw little notes to us from their window. When they finally left the hotel, I got within inches of the limo – only by shoving and kicking a policeman’s shins. I remember I knocked off his hat. He retaliated by shoving me back til I fell and landed on my arse in a puddle. Police brutality or what!
7} Glasgow – age 16. Visiting my elder sister and her husband in the city of my childhood. By then I had ditched Donny and discovered the joy of the electric guitar. Status Quo {the metal head starter pack} were paying at the Apollo. I desperately wanted to go but no one would go with me. So – I went on my own; the only female amongst 4,000 denim jacketed, tattooed longhaired guys all air-guitaring as if their lives depended on it. What could I do? I joined in, of course. One of the greatest experiences of my life.
8} Huntingdon – age 16. I became the proud owner of my first Afghan Hound, beginning a love story that has lasted until this day. Her name was Tara, a two-year-old dark blue brindle rescue bitch and she was the founder member of my subsequent household of this elegant and fascinating breed. Only one downside. My steady boyfriend was insanely jealous. Men are weird.
9} Huntingdon – age 16. Start of Sixth Form College. Two years of fun {and hard work} followed. It was here I learned so much from two of my teachers who, to this day, I thank for sharing their knowledge, for their patience and for their genuine interest in their pupils. Their lessons were a revelation. I have no idea if these two men are still alive today but where ever they may be, Mr. Daniels and Mr. Hurst, I salute you.
10} Huntingdon – age 17. A level year. Oh the stress, the angst but I did it. I passed with the grades I needed and set off for Sheffield University. Time for the next stage in my life – or so I thought but that is for another day…….
Well, I hope you have enjoyed this tiny peek into my teen life. I look forward to reading yours. Take care and a merry Christmas to you all.
Viviane
People often ask, do we have snow in Greece? Oh yes, is my answer. While not much will fall on Corfu {apart from the northern mountains}, just across the narrow stretch of Ionian sea, the mainland mountain ranges resemble a winter wonderland. Greece is more than sun-kissed islands. The terrain is mountainous, with some of the last remaining virgin forests in Europe. Anyone who watched the devastating fires of 2008 will attest to this and understand why the fires were such a tragedy for the country. Anyway, I digress……
Last week I shared with you my top ten childhood moments and, as promised, this week I will attempt to list my top ten teen moments. When I got to thinking about this, I realized I had bitten off more than I had bargained for. The reason – my teen years were not always that great. Age 13, my family hit some rough times. My father, in an attempt to better our lives, made some decisions that ultimately resulted in a vast change of life style for us all and a complete upheaval from all we knew and loved, a fact which contributed to my mother having a breakdown. Suddenly, I was forced to grow up and become the buffer between harsh reality and my younger sisters’ childlike confusion. Looking back on it now, as a parent myself, I do not blame my parents. I have learned from experience, as parents we are human and thus all make mistakes. We are not infallible. To cut a long story short, we left Glasgow to try and make a life in France. It didn’t work out. The UK was not yet a member of the EU and it was tough to find work. After 6 months, we left the continent, ending up in Huntingdon, Cambs and this is where I remained til I married my first husband {oh how Liz Taylor} at age 20. Anyway, life was not all bad and I did experience many high moments. Here is my list…
1} Glasgow age 13 – singing a duet with my best friend, Allison, at my brother’s wedding. We really thought we were the bees’ knees - a female Simon and Garfunkel. I remember it to this day. There we were, up in the balcony, decked out in our best long frocks, minister announcing us, congregation as serious as hell and what did we do? We broke down at verse two of Morning has Broken and collapsed into giggles. My sister-in-law hasn’t forgiven me to this day.
2} Writing my first piece of descriptive prose for an English assignment. My teacher read it out in class and it was then I realized I just may have a talent for this writing lark.
3} No man’s land Age 13 – driving to France with sisters and parents. The whole trip was a blast. Exciting for us. France is a beautiful country. The most memorable day was stopping over in Fontainebleau. We stayed in a very old hotel, across the road from the palace and slept in the same room as one of Napoleon’s artists. It was amazing. In the morning, we breakfasted in a beautiful walled garden. I can still taste the aromatic bowls of steaming café au lait and the melt-in-your-mouth freshly baked croissant.
4} Spain – age 13. My first sight and smell of the Mediterranean Sea, golden sands and warm, balmy evenings strolling along Cambrils pier, sharing a plate of fresh sardines with my parents, French uncle and my beloved Grandmother. For me, it was a dream come true.
5}Spain – age 13. Taking my grandmother to the local Spanish fiesta. It was wonderful. We danced and drank sangria and she wore my big sombrero.
6 {a, b and c} Huntingdon, UK – fast forward to age 15. New life, new school, new friends – and falling in love with Donny Osmond. I have made this a 3-part answer because Donny was the root of three most memorable episodes
a} After a bout of tears and tantrums, when my mother refused to allow me to camp out on the streets of London overnight in order to secure a ticket to the Osmonds concert, I set off the next fine morning with my friends, resplendent in our Osmond badge encrusted coats and Donny caps for London. Of course, being 12 hours too late, there weren’t any tickets left. A riot quickly followed. Thousands of disgruntled teenage girls went crazy. Looking back on it now, I sort of feel sorry for the police. In our 70’s wedges, we all got a few lethal shin kicks in. Still ended up with no tickets but great fun nevertheless.
b} Heathrow airport. Joining thousands of other screaming, hysterical Osmond fans, I waited with my friends for the boys’ plane to arrive. When it did, I clambered up to stand on the 5in wooden railing of the viewing terrace wall. To this day, I can feel it bending under the weight of too many of us. I later found out that another section of the wall had collapsed and several fans were hurt. Of course, guess whose mother rung the airport and asked if Viviane was ok? Very emotional time but an experience. Kids are no fun these days.
c} Well what do you know? Fighting police again. This time in Glasgow. My friend and I followed the group up there, found out where they were staying and proceeded to follow their trail around the city. Finally found the right hotel and proceeded to scream our heads off. The boys obviously approved because they threw little notes to us from their window. When they finally left the hotel, I got within inches of the limo – only by shoving and kicking a policeman’s shins. I remember I knocked off his hat. He retaliated by shoving me back til I fell and landed on my arse in a puddle. Police brutality or what!
7} Glasgow – age 16. Visiting my elder sister and her husband in the city of my childhood. By then I had ditched Donny and discovered the joy of the electric guitar. Status Quo {the metal head starter pack} were paying at the Apollo. I desperately wanted to go but no one would go with me. So – I went on my own; the only female amongst 4,000 denim jacketed, tattooed longhaired guys all air-guitaring as if their lives depended on it. What could I do? I joined in, of course. One of the greatest experiences of my life.
8} Huntingdon – age 16. I became the proud owner of my first Afghan Hound, beginning a love story that has lasted until this day. Her name was Tara, a two-year-old dark blue brindle rescue bitch and she was the founder member of my subsequent household of this elegant and fascinating breed. Only one downside. My steady boyfriend was insanely jealous. Men are weird.
9} Huntingdon – age 16. Start of Sixth Form College. Two years of fun {and hard work} followed. It was here I learned so much from two of my teachers who, to this day, I thank for sharing their knowledge, for their patience and for their genuine interest in their pupils. Their lessons were a revelation. I have no idea if these two men are still alive today but where ever they may be, Mr. Daniels and Mr. Hurst, I salute you.
10} Huntingdon – age 17. A level year. Oh the stress, the angst but I did it. I passed with the grades I needed and set off for Sheffield University. Time for the next stage in my life – or so I thought but that is for another day…….
Well, I hope you have enjoyed this tiny peek into my teen life. I look forward to reading yours. Take care and a merry Christmas to you all.
Viviane
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Top Ten Childhood Moments.
A nearly merry Christmas to you all. Corfu is doing its usual so-you-think-you-have-the-weather-sussed thingie. Yesterday it was mild and probably in the 20's. Not quite festive mood weather but it beats freezing.My tree is up - thank goodness.I know some folk get a real kick out of decorating their tree but, while I do enjoy it,I do get stressed. It's the Virgo thing. I want perfection.
And so this is Christmas, as the wise and great but, sadly, late John Lennon said and what have we done? It got me thinking back to my childhood. After all, Christmas is about children and the birth of one very special child. As I lay in bed last night, I scrolled through my vast collection of childhood memories. Some happy, some sad but mostly zany. I was an eccentric child from the day I was born - or so my mother tells me. "You are a non-conformist" I heard this from her most of my life.
Now married, with two grown up kids of my own, I believe I still am. But that is for another time, another blog. Today I thought it would be fun to put together my top ten list of my childhood escapedes and dreams.
1}Reading UK. Age...not sure but I was still a baby. All I remember is waking up in my cot and seeing this huge plastic monster grinning down at me. She was called Bella. Bella my arse; more like Chukky. I have hated dolls ever since. From that day, my toy box was filled with guns, cowboy hats and airfix models.
2}Singapore. Age 3 Running away, with Gary and David, the five year old twins from down the street. At this time in my life, I was living in Singapore. My father was in the army and we had a Chinese maid called Pok. I remember hiding in the twins' room. We locked the door and threw the key out the window while Pok stood outside screaming Missie Missie!. My poor brother had to climb up on to the balcony.
3} Age 3. Still in Singapore. Going butterfly hunting with my elder brother in the jungle. I was barefoot and scantily clad in a pair of white undies that always managed to end up somewhere around my knees. I wasn't known as droopy draws for nothing. I love my big brother. He was my hero and partner in crime. His favourite trick was to wait until all of poor Pok's weekly wash was dry and then spray it down with the garden hose. But I digress. Back to the butterfly chase. He could never understand why his collection didn't grow. As fast as he put them in the tin, I let them go.I have remained a staunch animal rights activist ever since.
4}Age 4 Singapore. Jumping off the top diving board at Changi swimming pool only to find my rubber ring had burst. Luckily for me, older brother saw me floundering and saved me. Later on, when I pissed him off, he used to say it was the biggest mistake of his life.
5} Age 6 Glasgow. Climbing my first tree, much to my mother's great fear. She so desperately wanted me to be princess in a pink dress. I just wanted to be a boy. From there, I progressed to running along 12 foot high walls and jumping from buliding to building. When I think of it now, I feel sick at the thought of the danger I put myself in. Those back garden walls were Victorian and far from stable.
A word about Glasgow. I grew up in this wonderful city. I lived in an area called Hillhead. A place full of beautiful parks, museums and art galleries. It became my adventure play ground. 20 minute bus ride and you are in the countryside. Stunning scenery, lovely people and great food. I had the time of my life.
6}Age 8. Glasgow. Reading my first Enid Blyton Famous Five book. My world changed. I now KNEW I wanted to be a boy. I wanted to be George. I became George. Out went the frocks and in came the blue shorts, welly boots and t.shirts. I formed my own little gang and we lived out our own adventures in my back yard well into the long northern summer evenings. And yes - I got into a few scraps. I loved fisti cuff fighting, always trying to prove I was as good as any boy on the block. I did have one dilemna though. I was madly in love with Manilito from the High Chaperal. I was going to marry him but didn't I have to be a girl for that?
7}Glasgow. Age 9. Discovering Santa Claus did not exist. I was gutted and also furious with my parents for making a fool out of me for all those years.On the plus side, I received my first 'big' bike. It was blue and gold and I adored it. Again, I flirted with danger. Telling my mother I was just cycling around the corner to my friend's house, I would whizz off to the clyde tunnel and cycle under the river to the other side of the city.
8}Glasgow Age 9 .I discovered my passion for horses. Blame Champion the Wonder Horse. I was desperate for my own pony but I understood it was never going to happen. I did, however, save my pocket money and enrol for weekly riding lessons. First time I got on a horse, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. During the week I practised perfecting my mount and dismount. Resplendent in my Oxfam jodhpurs and hard hat, I tacked up the back yard railings and rose off into the sunset - much to the bewilderment of the neighbours who finally thought that 'mad, half-foreign girl from upstairs has lost the plot". Not content at this, I turned my spacehopper into a trusty steed named Thunder and set up spacehopper gymkhanas in the garden. Lucky my parents couldn't afford therapy because I am sure I would have been in it.
9}Glasgow. Age ten. Joined the Girl Guides and discovered the performing arts. Actually, I had always been a bit of an actress, a fact to which my long-suffering family will attest but under the inspiring guidence of our wonderful pack leader, our little troop put on numerous plays and pantomines for the local community. We were all crap at the usual friend to whatever badge stuff but we could all belt out a tune. Highlight of my career? Playing Buttons in our version of Cinderella, and so excited because Adrian Laine, the boy from school on who I'd had a major crush since year 4 was coming to watch me. Unfortunately, he feel instantly in love with the girl with long blonde hair who was playing the part of Cinderella. Teach me to cut off all my locks.
10}Glasgow. Age 11. My final year at Primary school. Encouraged by my teacher,I put myself in for the Glasgow High School for Girls entrance exam - and got in! This was the year when I truly did discover boys and thought, perhaps, it was time to ditch the George image. I think it was playing postman's knock in my living room closet that did it. Kissing boys was much more fun than punching their lights out.
To be continued.....
Next week... My ten top Teen moments.
Ok, your turn now. Would you like to share your top ten childhood moments?
Viviane.
And so this is Christmas, as the wise and great but, sadly, late John Lennon said and what have we done? It got me thinking back to my childhood. After all, Christmas is about children and the birth of one very special child. As I lay in bed last night, I scrolled through my vast collection of childhood memories. Some happy, some sad but mostly zany. I was an eccentric child from the day I was born - or so my mother tells me. "You are a non-conformist" I heard this from her most of my life.
Now married, with two grown up kids of my own, I believe I still am. But that is for another time, another blog. Today I thought it would be fun to put together my top ten list of my childhood escapedes and dreams.
1}Reading UK. Age...not sure but I was still a baby. All I remember is waking up in my cot and seeing this huge plastic monster grinning down at me. She was called Bella. Bella my arse; more like Chukky. I have hated dolls ever since. From that day, my toy box was filled with guns, cowboy hats and airfix models.
2}Singapore. Age 3 Running away, with Gary and David, the five year old twins from down the street. At this time in my life, I was living in Singapore. My father was in the army and we had a Chinese maid called Pok. I remember hiding in the twins' room. We locked the door and threw the key out the window while Pok stood outside screaming Missie Missie!. My poor brother had to climb up on to the balcony.
3} Age 3. Still in Singapore. Going butterfly hunting with my elder brother in the jungle. I was barefoot and scantily clad in a pair of white undies that always managed to end up somewhere around my knees. I wasn't known as droopy draws for nothing. I love my big brother. He was my hero and partner in crime. His favourite trick was to wait until all of poor Pok's weekly wash was dry and then spray it down with the garden hose. But I digress. Back to the butterfly chase. He could never understand why his collection didn't grow. As fast as he put them in the tin, I let them go.I have remained a staunch animal rights activist ever since.
4}Age 4 Singapore. Jumping off the top diving board at Changi swimming pool only to find my rubber ring had burst. Luckily for me, older brother saw me floundering and saved me. Later on, when I pissed him off, he used to say it was the biggest mistake of his life.
5} Age 6 Glasgow. Climbing my first tree, much to my mother's great fear. She so desperately wanted me to be princess in a pink dress. I just wanted to be a boy. From there, I progressed to running along 12 foot high walls and jumping from buliding to building. When I think of it now, I feel sick at the thought of the danger I put myself in. Those back garden walls were Victorian and far from stable.
A word about Glasgow. I grew up in this wonderful city. I lived in an area called Hillhead. A place full of beautiful parks, museums and art galleries. It became my adventure play ground. 20 minute bus ride and you are in the countryside. Stunning scenery, lovely people and great food. I had the time of my life.
6}Age 8. Glasgow. Reading my first Enid Blyton Famous Five book. My world changed. I now KNEW I wanted to be a boy. I wanted to be George. I became George. Out went the frocks and in came the blue shorts, welly boots and t.shirts. I formed my own little gang and we lived out our own adventures in my back yard well into the long northern summer evenings. And yes - I got into a few scraps. I loved fisti cuff fighting, always trying to prove I was as good as any boy on the block. I did have one dilemna though. I was madly in love with Manilito from the High Chaperal. I was going to marry him but didn't I have to be a girl for that?
7}Glasgow. Age 9. Discovering Santa Claus did not exist. I was gutted and also furious with my parents for making a fool out of me for all those years.On the plus side, I received my first 'big' bike. It was blue and gold and I adored it. Again, I flirted with danger. Telling my mother I was just cycling around the corner to my friend's house, I would whizz off to the clyde tunnel and cycle under the river to the other side of the city.
8}Glasgow Age 9 .I discovered my passion for horses. Blame Champion the Wonder Horse. I was desperate for my own pony but I understood it was never going to happen. I did, however, save my pocket money and enrol for weekly riding lessons. First time I got on a horse, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. During the week I practised perfecting my mount and dismount. Resplendent in my Oxfam jodhpurs and hard hat, I tacked up the back yard railings and rose off into the sunset - much to the bewilderment of the neighbours who finally thought that 'mad, half-foreign girl from upstairs has lost the plot". Not content at this, I turned my spacehopper into a trusty steed named Thunder and set up spacehopper gymkhanas in the garden. Lucky my parents couldn't afford therapy because I am sure I would have been in it.
9}Glasgow. Age ten. Joined the Girl Guides and discovered the performing arts. Actually, I had always been a bit of an actress, a fact to which my long-suffering family will attest but under the inspiring guidence of our wonderful pack leader, our little troop put on numerous plays and pantomines for the local community. We were all crap at the usual friend to whatever badge stuff but we could all belt out a tune. Highlight of my career? Playing Buttons in our version of Cinderella, and so excited because Adrian Laine, the boy from school on who I'd had a major crush since year 4 was coming to watch me. Unfortunately, he feel instantly in love with the girl with long blonde hair who was playing the part of Cinderella. Teach me to cut off all my locks.
10}Glasgow. Age 11. My final year at Primary school. Encouraged by my teacher,I put myself in for the Glasgow High School for Girls entrance exam - and got in! This was the year when I truly did discover boys and thought, perhaps, it was time to ditch the George image. I think it was playing postman's knock in my living room closet that did it. Kissing boys was much more fun than punching their lights out.
To be continued.....
Next week... My ten top Teen moments.
Ok, your turn now. Would you like to share your top ten childhood moments?
Viviane.
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