To Talliston we go!

Just a few more weeks until the Murder Mystery party at Talliston.  With a Roman theme, I've been busy making Roman jewellery and costume (Ignore the stripy shirt under my tunica lol).

It has been very long since my last blog, but to be fair, I've had to hold back in regards to what's going on with my writing.  And I've been busy with Seadrake Creations, my jewellery business (https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=676296549101105&id=376134102450686&aymt_tip=1#!/SeadrakeCreations)
which has been keeping my hands from typing (forming, soldering, hammering silver is pretty amazing and fun).

On to writing.  So much has changed.  Faeries will be on hold for a little longer as the publisher is still setting things up and making sure all legalities are in order.  It's going to be a good company, I can feel it, and I'm very excited for the new director and owner... it brings back memories of when Wyvern Publications was new. It also gives me some breathing space to finish my other projects because as soon as she takes on Faeries, I'll need to crack on with book two.

Blood Tide is still with Springbok Publications and I've just finished reviewing the e-proof.  I can't believe how much it's improved since the manuscript was left with them... I truly am blessed to have great indy publishers!!!  It will be released as soon as it's ready - I know myself how long these things can take and I'll post links to the book as soon as it's up.

My third publisher (really, three??? I'm either doing something very right or very wrong) has taken my last children's stories for the anthology and is reviewing the changes now.  It's been a boon having a dedicated children's e-publisher, and now these stories are going into their own dedicated anthology with an emphasis on my Cornish storyteller collection.  It will be out when it's out and I'll post those links too.

As for random anthology contributions, I think I'm finished with those.  I've lost count of the number of collections I'm part of and although I loved doing it, it takes time from my larger projects.

Write, write, write, make jewellery, prep the house, create the Tudor style garden, work on the putting together the natural looking playground, blog, argh, it's all a spin. Some big changes are about to take place and when I'm at liberty, I'll write about them.  But for now, it's all work and very little play.  Oh, and some good publishing :-)

New Books and Doomy Weather

I'm in a new anthology!  Look, here is the cover as it looks on amazon:

It’s the second day of official summer and it’s been pelting it down with rain (it takes me a bit of time to get round to posting these blogs).  I don’t mind – it just adds to more writing time.  And there has been a dramatic increase in writing time which I hope does not wane.  The new regime is this: an hour in the loft huddled on a pillow under the roof window while I write fiction until my battery runs out.  There are no internet, TV, child or food distractions.  No cat jumping on my keyboard, no little nips to my phone.  Just pure writing with the occasional play on mahjong while I think about plot and structure between chapters.

            I still have editing and my nonfiction to write during the day but once the evenings draw in, I smuggle my laptop upstairs while hubby watches an action film (I catch the end or beginning with him).  1000 words a weekday, means in 60 working days, I’ll have a 60,000 word novel.

            Well, it’s not everyday, I admit.  And there are some days when I just stare at the screen and try not to succumb to the pull of the internet, which is like a black hole for my time.

            Over the past few weeks I’d been stuck in a lull – my motivation was a bit down and I was thinking of properly giving up Seadrake, even without waiting until the end of the financial year.  I’d had a rejection too.  Funny thing is, I don’t even remember what it was for.  But then I got payment for one of my knowonder stories and I realised that I just needed a little spark of hope to keep me going. Now my writing is back in full force, Seadrake is back into play (and with a whole new business plan and the new, shiny, revamped website will go live before the end of the year which will focus more on cast sterling rings and necklaces) and all is right in the world.

            I think it’s that way for most writers (not to mention jewellers).  It’s hard times for fiction writers and even the most established of writers are wondering if they’ll have to look for new work and put down their pens (or just use their laptops for solitaire and candy crush).  Nobody seems to know the way forward anymore, and it’s certainly not the main publishers – anyone who’s attended the London Book Fair in the past five years would have noticed a worrying trend of empty stalls.  Nobody seems to be buying books much anymore (unless it’s celebrity slush).

            I’d love (like all authors) to get a fab contract.  A three-book contract with six digit royalties… and it might even happen to someone.  I’m fairly certain it won’t be me; I’m not mainstream enough.  But I can produce some beautiful reads.  They might be with indie publishers, they might be popped up on kindle or nook, but they’ll be out there.  Which I suppose, for now, is enough. And on that note, I’m pleased to announce that Downtrodden is very near the end and near completion.  My aim is to have it out on kindle before the end of the year and the cover is being worked on too.

            I am wondering about having the book separated into quarters and having the first as a free download, the second ‘instalment’ as a basic £1.50 download, etc.  If it does well, it can continue as a series.  More things to think about.

An Inky Edity Month

Hello all again!  It’s Friday – aka blog catch up day. 

So much has happened.  I’ve started by Seadrake blog: http://seadrakecreations.wordpress.com/ and be prepared – it’s dire. The situation, not the blog.  I’m very close to throwing in the towel, so the posts will be giving a true to life view of what it’s like starting a small jewellery company in an age where there is virtually no disposable income.  That said, I think it’s got potential to spin out a bittersweet ‘tried and failed, but hey, at least I tried’ book.

Books, that brings things home.  So many books to work on this year, why did I allow myself to get distracted with Seadrake in the first place?  Ah yes, I was after some sort of income for a stay-at-home mum.  So far, writing has been my real income for the last two years.  Yes, a very meagre income too, but I’m blessed to have been given the post of ‘staff writer’ for knowonder.com which brings in the bulk of my literary earnings.  I’ve sold about three copies of Blood Tide in three months and one copy of Faerie Conspiracies.  The tax man is going to give me that look again – you know, the one where disbelief and frown mingle?  The, ‘what are you smoking??’ expression that means, ‘creative endeavours have no place in this day and age, and will definitely not bring you enough income for me to tax you.’

With little to no sales for my novels this year, I’m not going to be thinking about income or even hoping about it.  Instead, I’m going to be editing the Isabella anthology for Springbok Publications, the small press that is also going to publish Three Victorian Women in Asylum, of which I’ve only written two chapters and seventeen pages of notes.  Due this autumn, I will be buckling down as soon as the Isabella book is edited.

And… I’m still writing for knowonder.  Suite 101 is on the out – they don’t pay anything anymore and seem to be lost at sea…  With the knowonder stories, I’m compiling my own anthology of faerie lore based on a mixture of Grimm’s tales retold and expanded for modern understanding (but still in a fairytale ‘ancient’ setting) and Cornish tales, along with my own slant on the basic fairy lore formula.  It’s going to be pretty thick, and have illustrations throughout.  In two years, when it’s ready, I’ll publish it hardback, paperback and e-book and it’s the hardback copy I’ll be loving the most as fairy lore should be hardback, folio and ready to pass down the ages.

 I’m probably just repeating myself – so I’ll just add one of the fairy stories I’ll be putting in the book J

 

The Willow and the Whispering Woods

Deep in the woods in a land far across the ocean grew a huge willow tree. The people in the village just outside the woods knew it was a magical place but were too freighted to go there and told their children to stay away.

But of course, some children would sneak out to the tree anyway…

 “You’re not going into those woods, you’re too scared. And… you’re a… you know, a GIRL,” said one of the village boys to Tanya.

 Once again, she bristled, ready to shout back. But she couldn’t. She was holding her baby sister in her arms and didn’t want to make her cry. “I’ll go to the woods,” she whispered in the most menacing voice she could muster, “and I’ll bring back a piece of the tree to prove it.”

 “Yeah, right,” another boy said. They seemed to all be ganging up on her now. The other village children smelled a fight and started wandering towards them, their knees showing through tattered skirts and trousers.

 They all started jeering at her and calling her ‘coward’ until she furrowed up her brow and said, “I’m going right now, let’s see which one of you is brave enough to follow!”

 Her little sister Rose woke up and started crying, but as Tanya walked towards the woods, the baby fell back asleep in her arms. The dust kicked up at her heels, but she didn’t look back. She knew they wouldn’t follow and she was confident they’d never tease her again if she brought back a twig from the wood.

 Soon she was at the edge of her village and the road which was once well looked after and smooth, now became broken with potholes and weeds. Eventually, it disappeared under long grasses and elder trees. The air became cooler and she held Rose closer to her shoulder. “Not long now, and then we can go home for some lunch.” It was only partial truth as there was enough milk for Rose, but only a few berries for Tanya. Her mother was working hard to keep the food coming in, but times were hard since their father was sent to march with the Royal Army.

 The trees started to get closer and darker the further in they went, but Tanya wanted to see the ancient willow tree that held everyone in fascination. “Just one look and then, if I’m lucky, a fallen branch,” she whispered. But not seconds before she’d finished, the woods whispered back, “if you’re lucky, you’ll meet the lady of the tree and satisfied forevermore you’ll be.”

 Tanya clutched just a little tighter to Rose and slowed her pace. But she didn’t turn back. If anything, she was now more curious. The wood became even denser, but instead of having twigs and branches claw at her heels, they seemed to peel back away from her as if letting her pass. Soon, she could see a mound of earth, topped with the biggest willow tree she’d ever seen. Its branches opened up to the sky and its trunk was wider than both her arms stretched out. Its roots were half out of the ground and twisted round small boulders, spiralling up and around themselves. “Wow,” said Tanya. “Rose, look up – it’s the willow tree of legend. And we’re standing under its beautiful boughs.”

 Just then the birds stopped singing and a low wind rustled the leaves towards them. A soft, gentle whispering, almost like musical chimes rose up around them in the leaves. “Then welcome here my little friends, now come in peace and do defend, the reasons why you’ve come to me, I lift my boughs now you shall see…”

 The wind dropped and the two lowest branches of the willow tree lifted like welcoming arms; below, a gnarled root stairway twisted down. “Enter, if you dare,” came the whispering voice.

 Not wanting to put Rose in danger, Tanya left her wrapped safely between two roots of the tree and went below. Inside was glorious. The roots rose up around her to form the ceiling of a fairy palace. “Welcome,” said a tall woman with long flowing robes, “I am the spirit of the Willow. You may ask me one question or request one gift.”

 Tanya, previously brave, now felt shy. “I… I just need something to prove I’ve been to the woods,” she said in a meek voice.

 The lady laughed. “Would you not prefer a feast?” She waved her hand and a table filled with delicious-looking fruits and roasted vegetables appeared.

 Tanya was tempted, but she shook her head. “I must get back to my sister and go home,” she said. “But your offer is very kind.”

 The lady smiled. “You are very polite. Let me gift you this,” she said, holding out a wand made of the tree itself. “It will protect you in time of need.” Then, she and the room vanished and Tanya found herself outside the tree with Rose in her arms as if the last ten minutes had never happened. But in her left hand was clutched a willow wand. She pulled Rose in closer and noticed that she too had been given a gift by the lady of the tree: a small star no bigger than a pinpoint was on the baby’s forehead.

 Tanya left the wood in a daze and when she made it back to the village, the other children looked at her warily – partly with respect and just a hint of suspicion. Nobody went to the Whispering Woods.

 Odd hushed whispers spread around her and when she went to her home, she saw her mother with her head in her hands.

 “Tanya, I’m so sorry. I cannot pay the rent on the house and I cannot feed you. I have to go find work elsewhere and old Myssa has said she will look after you if you work for her.” At that, her mother broke into heavy sobs and wouldn’t be consoled.

 Once again pulling the sleeping Rose tightly to her shoulder, Tanya now knew life would indeed be different. That night, Tanya was taken to Myssa’s home on the edge of the village. There was a splintered cot for Rose and just a thin blanket with no bed for Tanya on the front room floor next to the fire.

 “You can start by scrubbing the floors,” said Myssa, “and then collect firewood from outside.”

 Tanya worked hard for Myssa, but both she and Rose were given food and milk – enough to live from. But Rose was cold and unhappy and cried too much for Myssa. So, one day when Rose was crying louder and longer than normal, Tanya was asked to bring a huge pot from the stables.

 “What’s that for?” asked Tanya. Myssa had never cooked enough food to need such a large cauldron.

 “Your sister is a menace and we don’t need the extra mouth. You work too hard looking after her when you should be looking after me.” Although she didn’t tell Tanya exactly what the pot was for, Tanya was filled with fear for her sister.

 So, when Myssa was out gathering herbs and berries from the edge of the wood, Tanya wrapped up her little sister, took her willow wand and escaped from the old witch’s house.

 “Stay quiet, little one, or I think we may be done for,” whispered Tanya to Rose. But Rose just smiled up at her, and for a moment, it looked like the star on her forehead started to glow.

 Just then Tanya heard Myssa stomping furiously through the house. “I know you’ve run off and taken our evening meal with you! I’m coming to get you both!”

 She burst through the back door and before she could see Tanya, Tanya whispered, “If only we could look like two stones…” In a heartbeat, Tanya and Rose turned from being human children into a large standing stone and a small boulder. Myssa didn’t recognise them and hunted the area until it was dark.

 When the first star shone down on the stones, the girls changed back into their normal forms but it was too dark to travel and so they curled up together in the barn and waited for morning.

 At dawn, Tanya and Rose were woken by the sound of Myssa’s angry voice. “I’m coming to get you now, I’ve found your footprints! You won’t escape this time.”

 “Please,” whispered Tanya, “let us be like mice in the hay.” Instantly, the two girls were once again changed. And again, Myssa didn’t recognise them.

 When she was gone, they changed back. “Come Rose, now we really must flee to the woods…” But as they left the stables, Myssa caught sight of them and chased after.

 Tanya’s legs were not as long as Myssa’s but she was younger and fear made her fast. She ran with Rose in her arms, jumped over roots and ducked under brambles, until there was a little distance between them and the witch. “Please,” she whispered again, “let us be like two rich princesses that the witch won’t recognise.” And with that, the two girls turned into finely dressed princesses with a white horse to guide them and a royal escort to follow behind.

 Tanya smiled and looked down at Rose. No longer wrapped in tattered old blankets, Rose now had silks and ribbons with pearls on her cap and a silver bell on her wrist. She giggled when she looked back at Tanya. “Now,” she said in a bold voice to the escort behind her, “there is an old witch following us who means us harm. Please take her away so we’ll be safe.”

 The escort nodded and in seconds, Tanya heard Myssa’s voice pleading for forgiveness. “What shall I do with her exactly?” asked the escort with a slight smile. For just a brief moment, Tanya was reminded of the lady of the willow tree.

 “Put her to work at the castle’s gardens,” Tanya said, surprising herself. “She may not like children, but she can still tend her plants well. Just don’t let her cook anything.” Tanya remembered with a shudder the large cauldron meant for Rose.

 Just then, a soft breeze from deep within the Whispering Woods carried to them light musical laughter, “Well chosen, my darlings…” As the Royal Escort left with Myssa, the two girls changed back to their own selves.

 Tanya sighed. She wished she could have stayed in the silk dress for longer. It would certainly pay the rent on her mother’s house. But not a moment after she’d made the wish in her head, Rose’s giggling laugh made her look down in surprise. Both girls were once again dressed in finery and there was a weighty purse dangling on her arm where there once was a wand. Tanya noticed that Rose’s little star was glowing brightly.

 Hunger made her go back to the village and buy bread and cakes from the bakery, but nobody recognised her when she entered. She pulled out a gold coin and handed it to one of the boys who hadn’t called her a coward the other day. “Find the woman known at Sasha and tell her she can move back into her house.” For Sasha was the name of her mother.

 Then she found the landlord in the tavern. “I wish to purchase the property formerly rented by Sasha,” she said in a serious tone.

 The landlord put his tankard of ale down and glanced over to her. His face changed from annoyance to wonder and he quickly stood up and bowed. “Y… yes, of course my lady, anything you wish!”

 Tanya smiled kindly and handed him three coins. “There, this will more than cover such a hovel. Now, can you please tell the builder to fix the roof and adorn it for a royal visit.” She gave him another coin and left with a smile on her face.

 By the time her mother returned to the village and her old home, the house looked like a small palace. Tanya, Rose and their mother lived comfortably there for many years and every spring, Tanya and Rose would go into the Whispering Woods and lay a wreath of roses for the lady of the willow tree as a thank you.

 

Inky Drakey Plans

 (Oyster Fayre 2012)

 

All’s quiet on the Wyvern for sale front (if I’ve not yet mentioned, Wyvern Publications might have a buyer, but we’ll see how it turns out – I’m very excited about it! It means authors will have a chance to have their work back on the market and Wyvern itself still going).  Which suits me fine at the moment because it’s all about Seadrake in two days.  I never had a chance to finish the two brass leaf brooches – there were too many other things to do and my knuckles were aching in the cold, damp workshop (someday, after a lottery win, I can have the workshop insulated and have proper double glazing).  Today I’ve got to finish painting my Seadrake Creations banner for the Oyster Fayre.  I’m on plot A6, which is a big move up from last year and exactly the opposite far end of where I was before.  It’s going to be so much fun regardless of the weather.

 

Sales, however, will suffer if it rains… which brings me to the question I’ve been nagging myself over.  Is it all worth it?  This is the beginning of year 3 for Seadrake and I’ve struggled with it (as most new businesses will).  The difference is that I don’t really know if it’s worth the struggle anymore.  Goodness knows I’m not charging enough for my time or even enough to cover basic tools let alone PLI and pitch rentals.  There has been a renaissance in hand made traditional crafts but nobody outside London wants to (or can afford to) pay for the time and money it takes to produce something handmade and beautiful.  Something whacked out of the factory in the third world can give a similar effect for a fraction of the cost.  Let’s face it, we’ve all been belt pinching which is what brought on the handmade revolution in the first place.

 

And curse this whole issue of needing sleep and getting tired.  WHY can’t I get up at 5am all chipper and work and play with my toddler, get dinner on, bake fresh bread every Friday, grow fresh flowers and veg in the back, juggle Wyvern Publications, tackle the hedge, write two non-fiction books and one novel, keep a jewellery business going and still have time to write the blog without falling asleep or feeling like a zombie?  Okay, I get up at 7… but if I could, I’d wake up fresh at 5.  Can I pull the teen thing and say, “it’s not fair”?  It really isn’t.  My body can’t keep up with all these life plans I’ve got.  I’ll do the usual of working like mad, getting ill then having everything fall to a standstill for three months.  I know many people who struggle to get up in the morning just to face the day, so I am being greedy with wanting to do more.  Sorry peops, I’ll stop griping.

 

I do need to streamline again.  The allotment (you remember, the thing that was going to be my priority this year after family?) is on my axe list.  Every time I get on top of it, something happens to set me back months and not just the weather.  It’s time to move on and use the backyard as my growing space.  It will be after the season finishes, so I can harvest the last of the berries and rescue all my berry bushes and the shed and tools, water butts and composter.  The rest can stay there for next year’s grower. Shed BTW is going to be toddler’s own outside playhouse.  I’ll paint it up brilliantly for her.  The front is going to have a mini bridge over water plants (not real water plants, but plants that I feel represent water) and she’ll have her very own mini garden in front of her house to tend.  It will take some time (like, a year) but it will be good and I won’t have to worry about… well the things that have been helping me make the decision about dropping the allotment.

Now to bring on the Oyster Fayre and then I’ll only do Seadrake work for special orders for the next month as I’ve got to hammer out the draft of Three Victorian Women in Asylum and edit the Isabella anthology for Springbok Publications.  Forget the fact that I spent yesterday writing three new business plans.  Maybe I should just relax for a bit…

To Boot or Not to Boot…

I’m going to be much better at blogging.  This time.  Truly!  I’ve got a new resolve and it’s going to be blogging and representing Seadrake better.  So it may be that I keep blending my two careers onto one blog or I may start an independent blog just about jewellery (or if you’re in the US – jewelry).  Not to be traitor to blogspot, but I’ve seen some amazing blogs on Wordpress and WOW.  It acts like their main jeweller’s website and blog with links to their Etsy shops.

 

BTW here is one of my etsy listings: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/111646849/fine-silver-999-with-dichroic-glass?ref=shop_home_feat

 

Here is the main question: do I start selling smaller, less expensive items at the local car boot sale or do I focus on the larger and more expensive markets?  My experiences so far of vintage and craft fairs is that they cost so much (along with the public liability insurance) and it might lead to one or two commissions afterwards and is a lovely place to meet artisans, but there is little to no financial gain at the end of it. 

 

Enter the car boot sale.  It conjures up visions of broken high chairs, rusty old tools, rotting books rejected from a charity shop… but the car boot sale has some amazing finds, stalls, and regulars who, upon chatting to, say how slow the market has been and they only take X amount, which happens to be triple of what I make at a craft stall on a good day (and without the need for public liability insurance AND with about a third of the setting up price).  But the trick is to get the right items out and keep an eye and strong nerve for those who are out for either a freebie (ie 5-finger discount) or extreme haggling (which I’ve never had a problem dealing with).

 

Another bonus about car boot is that you pay on the door on the day.  No pre-booked stalls that don’t get refunded if the weather is too poor for the public to show.  And it’s a good day out with the opportunity to get some amazing bargains on tools (see the photo up top?  That was a £3 car boot find – a rusty old jeweller’s vyse.  It took me only 3 hours to refurbish and now it’s invaluable in my workshop).

 

It will be (my plan at this time anyway) some Roman sterling twisted wire rings, pearl and gemstone earrings, leaves range and a photo album display for people who might want to commission bigger items.  The footfall for car boot is pretty amazing and what a great place to advertise!

 

After the Oyster Fayre I’ll keep an eye out for the right Sunday morn and then, BAM! out I’ll go to the car boot at 6:30 in the morning to get my ideal position before 7am opening and see how things go.

 

I may have just answered my question – To Boot!!!

April Escapes and May Showers

 

It’s been a while since my last blog (the usual… life got in the way again) but this time I have a slightly better excuse and yes, it is the weather.  The relentless winter got me (and I know even hardened individuals suffered this year) down, my light box was still ‘missing’ since the move to the new house, and the new house was/is an icebox with freezing cold air pouring off the outer wall.  Even paying outrageous fees in gas and electricity kept us wearing double to quadruple layers indoors, which frankly, I found rather offensive.

 

So, with a bitter feeling of cold despair, I begged for an escape home to sunny CA and my supportive husband readily agreed.  Two weeks of sunny bliss, family gatherings, meeting up with old friends (at one point it felt very ‘Housewives of Orange County’ except we weren’t bitching, it wasn’t Orange County and well… let’s face it, I was the only ‘housewife’ in the group).

 

On the trip, I had my e-mail account hacked – typical timing and I spent some time trying to fix it on my mother’s computer which felt a bit like wearing someone else’s underpants (the keys responded differently, screen alien, and well, it just wasn’t my computer).  I’d meant to abandon all computer-related activity so it was just by chance that I checked my e-mail and received a mass of informants.

 

But when the two and a half weeks were up, I was ready to go back to reality – it was even warm for the weekend before plunging back down to the gloomy weather we’d left.  Two weeks in and I’m still reeling over the catch up I’m trying to do.  And balanced with recovering from jet lag, an excited toddler and growing lawn, my workload is feeling a bit overwhelming.

 

Writing – I’ve got my short story for the Springbok anthology to do – well, I’ve just finished the draft and need to change a few bits before sending it in – it’s due at the end of the month.  Then after the Oyster Fayre, it will be ‘all systems go’ to get this non-fiction drafted in time (Three Victorian Women in Asylum).  I’ve also been compiling a fairy anthology of retold ancient lore and new tales with an ancient feel.  It will be illustrated by my fabulous mother and talented artist, Linda Gunn.

 

Wyvern – There are still two books on the lists – then will close.  Or it was going to (I had no time for my own writing whilst running a publishing company).  I’ve got a potential buyer, hoorah!  So authors might have a chance to receive new contracts, which I’m thrilled about if it all goes through.  I’ll keep posting updates as they happen.

 

Seadrake – Gulp!  Only a few weeks left before the big weekend of Oyster Fayre – the market that sums up Seadrake perfectly and the event I look forward to every year… I’ve got all my stock put together, but there are some final bits that have been giving me trouble (combined with a toddler who keeps trying to break into my workshop means I can only work when she’s asleep… which is usually when I crash out too).  I have to brass leaves to saw and finish into beautiful medieval brooches – they are all etched beautifully and are ready for the wrist and knuckle breaking moment of hacksaw (which takes forever).  There are costumes to drag out of the closet – I’m selling off as much of my historical wardrobe I can this year, so if you need a Tudor/Renaissance/Saxon/Arthurian gown, drop by for a steal.

 

Fab, so it’s all systems go until June 1… Bring on the Oyster Fayre!

 Seadrake pure silver and moonstone ring

 

 

 

I miss the chickens.  I miss their morning clucking, the sound they made when they were laying, the boasting that happened afterwards and the crooning when they found their favourite patch of grass in the sun.  I also miss their eggs.  Each chicken laid differently – at different times of the day, yes, but they also had very distinctive eggs too.  Poppy’s eggs were renown for having light yellow yolks, thin membranes and HUUUUGGGE shells.  Ruby’s were medium, had darker yolks, Speckled Gemima’s were small, spreckled and firm.  They were ideal for poaching, whereas Poppy and Ruby’s eggs were best fried. 

 

Someday I’ll get chickens again.  I certainly don’t miss de-icing their water every morning in the winter, or finding red mites in the summer (evil things).  The darkest part of hen keeping is when they get ill.  Commercial hens have been bred to produce eggs at a high rate – an unnaturally high rate.  It takes its toll on them and their life span is lucky to be three years.  I know some keepers who’ve got chickens that last 20 years and up, but this is not the norm… those are superchicks!  The cost of feed has also hit the roof, making hen keeping more of an expensive hobby rather than a slice of the good life.  That, has got to be all this rain that keeps threatening crops…

 

Which brings me to the allotment.  I’ve got my seeds ready, the ground is prepped… it’s time soon to start work.  Just as soon as this cold weather lets up and this heavy drench peters out.  Icy swamps are not good for growing!

 

And despite having promised life a slowed down pace… I ended up sending a mass of submissions out and am getting acceptances!  It’s amazing and I’m so excited, but it also means more work and manic writing.  I’ve re-started my non-fiction writing as it’s nice to have a trickle of income (even though the per-hour rate is about 10cents an hour).  But it’s nice to have a reconnection with other writers and post interviews of their successes. 

 

So on to my accepted submissions… Firstly, I’m working on and with an amazing charity anthology for Springbok Publications – the new small press that will be highlighting the plight of the African Black Rhino and all proceeds will go to that charity.  I’ll have a teen fiction slant on my story (I’ll also be submitting a poem) which brings me to the fact that I’ve had a lightning moment and I KNOW MY GENRE.  I’m a teen fiction writer (hear my friends say, ‘duh!’) although I do also write for children (and the child at heart).  No more horror, no more steampunk attempts, no more random submissions for women’s magazines.  It’s all about children’s and YA fiction with a slant on the edgy and dark side.

 

Okay, okay, I’m rambling again.  Back to accepted submissions.  My non-fiction Three Victorian Women in Asylum is also being taken on by Springbok and I’m going to do my darnedest to help promote it by writing a series of articles and sending them out to (don’t groan) women’s magazines (so, I may not be writing fiction for them, but a good article is different ;)  I still have to finish the draft and pay for the photos of the women (in archive at the moment) but I expect to have it ready by October this year (not the release date, but the date I send it to my publisher).

 

Next on the list (whew! getting tired already and there is still much more to cover) which is I’ve had my stories accepted with provision to bookstogonow.com which is a fabulous small press that helped my friend and fellow writer Tim Reed reach bestselling proportions.  As they no longer publish individual short stories, I’ve sent them a collection of teen dark fiction – two have been previously published so they might want fresh new ones and I don’t want to chuck my ‘wrong genre’ unpublished stories in with the goodies I sent them earlier.  So we’ll see.  The real up note on this is that I think they’ll be interested in Downtrodden, my latest teen (well 15+ due to some graphic scenes – I’ve posted snippits of this book on previous blogs) fantasy novel.

 

Did I say I missed the chickens?  I could use their calming company.  Aside from all the writing tasks I’ve given myself, I also am developing a line of wedding and engagement rings for Seadrake Creations.  I’ll start them from cast silver and have prices up for gold and platinum if people would prefer one metal over the other.  Then, and here is the exciting bit… customers can choose their stone so they know exactly what they’re getting (unless they want me to pick one out – oooh like a dark, dark ocean blue brilliant cut sapphire… drool).

 

I’ve found that working with my hands keeps my head from spinning new stories and is the most relaxing thing around.  That, and going to craft fairs is a wonderful day out which involves being computer free.  Bliss.

 

Well, I think that right about wraps things up.  I’ve got my suite101 articles going again, but I may jump ship to helium as suite is yet again changing things and is very vague about whether writers will be getting any money at all for their work.  Ah well, at least I got a few goodinterviews in ;)

 

ttfn!

 

 



Digging up the year...

I’ve decided that I should no longer be that manic girl… the one chasing her own tail and running herself into the ground with a million and one different projects on top of the normal everyday duties that life brings.  This year is going to be all about growing.  Not personal growth (although I’m sure a bit of that will happen) but vegetable and herbs. 

I was going to give up the allotment – with my little girl too young to not in danger on the plot (there are a lot of poisonous weeds and stinging nettles), and with moving house, I knew I wouldn’t have any time for it anymore.  I was gutted.  The allotment was, ironically, really the only thing that kept me truly rooted in the UK, even in the winter.  But having thought things through (mostly not wanting to dig up our apple trees and relocate our berry plants) it’s staying. 

Last three seasons were horrible to veg – if anyone grows their own vegetables, they’ll know exactly what I mean.  From drought to floods; frost to heat wave and back again, those little plants have a hard time surviving, let alone producing fruit or tubers (my first earlies crop of potatoes were mini and most of my lates had rotted themselves in the ground after having lain in permanent puddles despite the well draining soil).  But the berries… oh, the berries loved it!  They could handle the dry weather and still bring fruits, the heavy rain just made the produce more.  Even the birds couldn’t get their fill of those amazing blueberries and raspberries.  The strawberries did okay… I’ll work on those too.  But for the next season, the allotment is going to be about raspberry canes and blueberry bushes.  I can never get enough of them anyway and being low maintenance and easy to grow, they’ll keep the allotment producing until my little girl is big enough to go to school. Then maybe this horrible extreme weather would have settled a bit and I can get back on to growing the basics.

The new house has got some amazing potential too for a herb garden in one area, a potted veg patch in the other, and space for a cob nut tree and couple of apples.  There will be… a lot of digging going on in the next few months.

That said, I still have been very busy with writing and jewellery.  I’ve been lucky enough to be asked back as a judge for the Paws n’ Claws competition for children’s fiction stories, I still have to edit and complete my fantasy book, Downtrodden (might even have a chance to upload it before the new year), and of course, writing for knowonder.com.  And sending out to agents… but that’s a given rather like breathing.  And I’ll keep it all low key.  Even now that I’m part of a new publishing group, Springbok Publications, I’m staying low key for a while and asked to only be assistant editor due to time constraints.

As for Seadrake Creations, I’ve got my etsy shop all pretty and will be working on new lines casually and adding them when I’ve got a moment to do so.  This year for Seadrake will be less focus on selling and publicity and more time spent on learning new techniques and skills.  Rather like an extended internship.

So, whew!  Bring on those long days so I can get back to digging over the allotment…

Balancing with Two Inks...

Does anybody remember Robert Pattison pre Twilight?  Aside from being Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter films, he was a talented musician.  If you saw Twilight, you would have heard his song, and his talents as he played (yes, it was him, not dubbed over) the piano.  So what happened to his music career?  It could have developed alongside acting right?  Or no?

My point is that I must be barking mad trying to balance two difficult careers.  My writing is doing very well at the moment and despite my having developed my jewellery making skills and photography (pics for the jewellery) it’s just not going anywhere.  I love it.  I really, really love it.  It also keeps me sane when I’m battling it out with editing.  But it’s not making anything.  Do I keep at it or focus just on writing?  I’ve just registered my maker’s mark with the Assay office – expensive, but a legal requirement for the UK if I’m making larger items of precious metal.  I don’t want it to just be a hobby.  I don’t do hobby-level crafting; it’s usually all or nothing.

So how does Pattison deal with it?  Does he moonlight as a musician under an assumed name, hoarding off the adoring vampiric fans?  Or will he wait until the acting career has fizzled into a comfortable level and then do a bit of band work on the side (thinking of Adrian Edmondson and The Bad Shepherds - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Aulos-NGsk)

Getting paid for my writing today and not for any of the rings I’ve made this month is probably the sign that I’ve been putting off.  The problem is that I can’t STOP.  So… if you’ve read this, thought, hmm… I need to wear some pirate rings to put me in the piratey mood while I read Blood Tide… http://www.amazon.co.uk/Blood-Tide-Promise-Freedom-ebook/dp/B0099POPGW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1359111765&sr=8-1 please visit my etsy shop and knock yourself out with a 10% discount (type in NEWCUST10 in the discount code box) http://www.etsy.com/shop/SeadrakeCreations?ref=si_shop

Because balancing the two is what I do best :-)

January inklets

So much to do and so little time.  I’ve been working on more rings and other jewellery for Seadrake Creations.  My photography has certainly improved, but I’m still struggling to be seen and found on etsy (http://www.etsy.com/shop/SeadrakeCreations?ref=si_shop) as there are so many millions of people selling there.  I do very well at the craft fairs, so this year, I’ll be looking for more fairs to sell at.

I loved doing the bat ring for Berni.  She’s going to wear it to the next Dracula Society meeting – a perfect setting for such a goth ring.  Other jewellery projects have been doing more rings, working with traditional sterling bezels (look at the etsy moonstone ring which blends fine silver with sterling https://www.etsy.com/listing/120699333/beautiful-6mm-moonstone-in-fine-silver).  My wax ring is looking beautiful with celtic spiral and trinity knots, but it’s too expensive to have cast just now. I’ll have to wait until I’ve sold more work.

As for writing… I suppose I needed a break.  I’ve not written anything new for knowonder save for the forward to the next anthology coming out soon.  The ideas seem to be bottlenecked in my head but come out as dark teen fiction – probably because I’m still editing my YA 16+ fantasy book, Downtrodden.  Blood Tide was swept up in the free offers after Christmas – over 400 readers downloaded the book internationally in three days, but only one person left a review.  Thankfully, it was a five star review, and that did make my day.  After years of toil, research and rewrites, it has come to pretty much nothing. Yet I’m happy I wrote it.  It is, in my opinion, my best work – something that I may never top, which is a scary thought.

The days are passed wondering what else I can do to promote my work.  There is always more to be done, but there is danger in just throwing out cash for google-ads only to find your time and efforts would have been better off spent on something else.  So what on earth to do next?  I really want to get this fantasy edited, dusted and kindled.  A wonderfully supportive fellow author has shown me the path to Smashwords – an online resource that allows authors and publishers to upload to most retail outlets for little to no cost.  So I suppose I’ll continue to slog forward, blinded by the icy headwinds, recklessly delusional in the hope that someday, someone will pick up my work and hand it to someone who might send me a good contract.

 

The California visit was lovely; I got to wear short sleeves again and wear sunscreen and sunglasses while playing at the beach in the mornings and having fun with family in the afternoons.  Claudia loved getting her feet splashed by the sea and chasing the waterline as it rushed and receded (well, I did lift her when it rushed at us, but she did the chasing right afterwards).  As always, there just wasn’t enough time to do everything and see everybody, especially as afternoon naptime interrupted the usual routine we’d do during a visit.  Sorry to all my friends I didn’t have a chance to contact.

Writing has slowed to an invisible crawl this month – but will be renewed with a ferocious vigour with the work on my non-fiction book, Three Victorian Women in Asylum.  Well, it may be a booklet, rather than a book.  I want it to have a good impact without being too heavy for general public reading. 

Another rejection from Highlights Magazine.  Apparently, my writing was spot on but my timing was out and they couldn’t use it.  As prompted, I’ll keep trying! 

There is just not enough time to work on all my projects, but after my non-fiction book, this winter will be all about creating new works of art in the form of rings, polymer clay dragons, and other Seadrake Creations.  After talking with a designer in Long Beach who made the most amazing sea-inspired jewellery, I’ve fallen in love with lost wax casting.  I have a few other works to polish off and sell before I can buy any more equipment, but I’ll be posting my new items on the Seadrake Creations etsy shop, so do keep an eye out.  I’ve also obtained a beautiful morganite stone and two small pink diamonds that I’m planning on designing a gold ring around.  I can’t wait!



some random updates

http://www.knowonder.com/?s=holly+stacey is my latest children's story for knowonder, and my favourite so far :)

Ah, the baby is out with husband shopping for food, the cinnamon rolls are rising in the oven, I’ve done the washing up, put on the laundry, managed to brush my  hair and pour a coffee.  I’ve not drunk the coffee… it’s now stone cold, and I expect I’ll have the baby and husband come in any second, put a stop to my writing, and any chance of updating my blog (until baby has afternoon nap in which I’m actually meant to be tidying up the allotment).

Things have been manic.  As my friend Kirsty says, “Yes, it has everything to do with having children.”  So it’s not just me being disorganised (is that me relieved or worried?)  But I just can’t help myself.  I’ve been doing more writing now, having given Wyvern Publications a limited amount of time while I focus on my own work (after three years of helping other authors, editing other manuscripts, and learning things about PDF that I never knew I’d need to know, I’m now looking at getting my own work out and about).

We’re also mid-move.  Still waiting on one mortgage (or re-mortgage) but the company changed the rules half way through our application and have asked us to re-apply and pay more fees (which I am assured by our financial advisor he’ll get back for us).  I’m sure everything will pan out fine, but home isn’t home anymore, it’s become a building site.  Not to mention, I can’t get over how much builders make.  On a per-hour basis, it’s looking mighty fine – I think doctors get less!  So, maybe I’ll stop this writing lark and pick up some tiling equipment (as that seems to need less start up items than the rest of the building choices, lol).

Oops, rolls out of the oven now (nearly missed it!) and coffee still stone cold but now half finished. 

Right, where was I?  Ah, just a writing update (curses, the door is opening and I’m needed for baby-pushchair retrieval)…

Okay, now, where was I.  Writing.  That’s it.  I’m halfway done with the latest edit of Blood Tide (followers will know I’ve been reworking this novel for the past two years) and I’m hoping to (truly) get it up on kindle before Christmas.  It will be my first time using the kindle upload pages, although I’d like to do the same with The Faerie Conspiracies.  I’m not even going to look for an agent for Blood Tide – it has dialect and therefore is risky.  Agents aren’t taking any risks.  Main publishers aren’t either.  There is a revolution in the publishing industry and it’s been easier than ever to self-publish.  Agents are in dire straights, but still need authors, who no longer need them.  The average self-published author makes $10,000 a year from their writing (this is an average, about half will not, according to recent survey, make more than $500, many won’t make their money back if they’ve paid someone to do it for them).  But have a look at the kindle book Memory of Snow by Kirsty Ferry – you’ll find some excellent fiction just at a click of a button.

Aside from editing Blood Tide, it’s been all about keeping up with the quota of stories needed for knowonder.com, who’ve been amazing to work for.  It may have taken a few months longer for the re-launch, but the wait was well worth it.  Lillia and Rose, my latest children’s novel is going more slowly than I’d anticipated, but I don’t mind.  I’m enjoying taking my time over it.  I’ve also been sending some submissions out to various paying anthologies.

With the house move on hold, most of my jewellery making has been on hold too.  But I have got a workbench sourced (second hand kitchen top) and some more tools for cutting and soldering.  I’m keen on working with some traditional techniques for a set of medieval rings that I can take to the next Oyster Fayre. 

Rabbit Ink

Goodness, where does the time go? It’s been a year since I boldly stated that I’d be sending in one submission every two weeks and would, hopefully, bag an agent.  I sent three submissions to large agencies last year and got no love back.  It was nice to get a few things in anthologies, but I was so hoping to reach a wider audience.

Which brings me to the new endeavour – Seadrake Creations.  It’s doing okay, I’ve got a new fair to set up for 21 April and it should be interesting to see what sort of things sell this time (at the Christmas fair it was only the children’s things that sold out).  I am getting more interest in my silver leaf pendants, but as PMC costs so much, I’m not really making money off it, just having a bit of fun.  I’ve secured the domain www.seadrakecreations.co.uk but have yet to transfer my seadrakecreations.googlesites website over to it.  After the debacle with google recently, I should do it quickly before its gone forever (Google was about to delete my account for being 8months old… I was setting up a youtube account and put the age of my business instead of my personal age.  Seems obviously silly now!)

I am trying hard to think of ways of working from home and staying self-employed – I’m going to be running craft workshops, but until I get my level 1 PMC certification, I’ll not have any access to discounted PMC and supplies (curses!) so that’s another thing to save up for (and getting a second hand camera that has a manual focus).  I’ll also be putting up demos on youtube and some project downloads will be put on the website (maybe even a kindle book with a load of projects).  There is always so much to do in the few spare hours when Claudia sleeps.

As for WIP – there are too many things to even count.  I know I should just stick to one, but my writing is in limbo until the last few things I sent in to knowonder are published.  So far, I’ve been writing story after story and have been biting my fingernails, checking their website to see if anything is ever published.  I’m guessing March will be when things are up, but that’s such a long way off considering the team has been putting stories in the pot since New Year. Patience has never been my strong point - the stories will go up when they are ready!

That, and I’ve been looking at new places to have fiction published.  Paying places *big grin*.  Highlights Magazine is my next port of call (even though I must post my work via snail mail overseas WITH a SAE; how expensive will that get?) and a few others of similar ilk. 

Here is a bit of one of the works I’ve been sneaking down – it’s been in my head for years and it’s a bit different from the usual stuff.

The Rabbits of Carrot Wood

(a series)

book 1: Into the Wood

Ostra looked up at the bright stars through the clearing of trees and thumped on her hind paw.  Her thick grey fur looked silver in the moonlight, but soon, she knew, it would appear golden when the fires began. 

In seconds, the entire forest floor was quaking with the thumps of several rabbit’s hind paws.  Tall ears popped up from holes in the ground, followed by long, sleek bodies.  More hind legs joined in the warning and soon even the birds in the trees had taken flight in the night.

“Is the council gathered?” It was Freya who asked Ostra, one of the rabbits to whom the next role of leadership would fall.

Ostra bowed her head.  “They are gathered.”

Freya nodded and raced off, her hind legs flashing like lighting to the summit.

An owl flew low, his talons out, searching for any small prey.  He too, must have sensed the change in the air and was taking advantage by finding food.  Ostra dove into one of the warren’s holes, knowing full well that she was just small enough to be taken by those sharp talons.  A few moments later, she heard his frustrated scream – her den-mates were safe.  Surfacing again, she watched the wings flap towards the plain and away from the colony of rabbits.

She pulled the rest of her body out of the hole and shook off dust and soil.  She’d have to do a proper wash later – after this council business was sorted; after the fires had passed.

Many latecomers rushed past her to get to the gathering point; a large oak stump in the centre of the clearing.  Already, the four council elders sat in their honoured positions, each facing outward in the cardinal directions. 

“Hush”, Elder North called.  The crowd of rabbits settled down.  The crowd was managed by the guardians; twelve strong warriors to keep their eyes on the skies for predators and behind them for sly foxes.  Each was armed with a spear ending in a stone point, their backs covered with a long, blue stripe of paint to mark their position as protectors.

Elder South nodded to Elder North and raised his front paws.  “We are gathered here this late night to witness the passing of the moon’s shadow as foretold by our seers.  In honour of this spiritual event, we shall light the fires as is custom.”

There was a hiss of breath as the crowd took in the knowledge. There had not been any fires lit for the past twelve generations.  Legend was strong in the tribe, but the

marks on the earth told the tale more solidly than any storyteller.

“Firedancers!” called Elder West.  “Now it is time to put to use your years of training! Prepare the cinders.”

Two small rabbits with patches of red on their heads came forward, eyes wide and frightened.  They brought with them a basket of smoke.  Behind them followed four young females, each carrying a bundle of twigs.  They dumped the twigs in the centre of the elders’ oak stump and scurried away on all fours like wild rabbits.

The four elders hopped off of the stump, allowing the two firedancers to approach.  They placed the basket gently in the centre and stripped off their woven robes.  The black and red flame patterns heaped onto the earth below them and each of them took deep, slow breaths before opening the basket.  It was apparent to Ostra that they had spent hours in preparation for the eve.

“Begin! Begin! Begin!” The four elders started the chant and were soon joined in a cacophony of others as the crowd opened their mouths to add to the chorus. It wasn’t long before those rabbits who had been wary, became fevered with the need to see flames – and the result of those flames devouring both flesh and flora.

Ostra felt the need to look away, but something held her attention captive as the two dancers reached into the basket with their bare paws and, screaming, threw the live embers into the pile of sticks.

“More, more, more!” The crowd and the elders’ voices were one now, like a hive of bees with only one thought for the many.  Even Ostra found the words seeping from her tongue when all she really wanted to do was run. 

The dancers’ screams turned from fear into screams of maniacal joy – they threw more embers into the air, letting them catch the sky and form arcs of light.  Yet, despite their fur touching all the flames, they didn’t burn.  The glowed.  The fire seemed to come from inside them now and each of the dancers, inflamed with magic of the dance, began to swallow the coals and embers, belching out long flames then leaping over.

The ground began to shake, this time without the aid of any rabbits’ thumping.  The dancers stopped leaping and began digging.  They bored into the earth like worms, their bodies glowing under the patches of turf and soil.  Long pathways of steam showed the crowd were the dancers were moving; each of them in perfect harmony with the other to form first a perfect circle around the crowd, and then spirals.  Rabbits jumped high as the dancers burrowed under their feet, but still nobody left.

This is madness, thought Ostra.  But she too, could not escape.  The sky then seemed to be falling – the stars streamed in the sky and the moon, covered by an invisible cloak, disappeared slowly into the night.  The dancers surfaced, exhausted, but untouched by fire.  Except, perhaps, the fire in their eyes, observed Ostra.  They had a new life in them that hadn’t been there before.  But they seemed spent and almost hobbled to the centre oak.  Satisfied, the elders covered each with a flame-coloured cloak and looked up to the sky.

“Prepare yourselves!” said Elder North.  “For now we shall see the vision.”

****

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there were three rabbits.  One was grey and one was brown.  The other was pure white.  The white rabbit wanted to lead, for he felt that only he was closest to the gods; why else would they keep him as pure in colour as the snow?  The grey rabbit felt that he should be in charge, for was he not the very colour of a fallen star – which everyone knew was the physical body of an angel.  The brown, however, said nothing.  For he knew that the gods would give to them what the gods would give.

The white and the grey rabbits quarrelled.  They bit and tore at each others’ ears.  Soon, they had lost their sight.  Soon after that, they had lost their ability to hear the gods’ whispers.  But the brown rabbit prayed.  He prayed that his two aggressive brothers be spared; that they live in peace.

The gods heard his prayers and granted them.  The grey and the white rabbit were made one – every winter the rabbit would be white and every summer, the rabbit would be grey, each blending in harmony with the land around him; never meeting each other or overlapping.  But they had become simple.  They could not speak.  They could not plan or think.  They could live, but live simply.

Happy that his brothers could live, but lonely, brown rabbit then asked the gods for a mate.  And once again they granted his wish.  A beautiful female rabbit came to his den one morning.  She could speak the language of the flowers and knew healing spells.  She too could communicate with the gods and her name was Ostra.  She gave the brown rabbit a name, so that he too could be remembered in song.  His name was Oak.  Together they had many children and became the founders of our way of life.  They kept the forest and woods tame and knew that their needs would always be met; using their minds and skills granted to them by the gods.  But they also knew too, that if they did not keep the law of the earth, the gods would punish them in the same way they did to grey and white rabbit.

****

Ostra woke in her warren, her familiar blankets firmly tucked in around her.  It had been a long time since she’d dreamed; and this dream was beautiful. It was full of colour – blues and greens and a huge mass of water.

“No,” she said aloud, “it wasn’t a dream…” It had been the firedance – they had seen a vision.  She knew, though she couldn’t pawpoint how, that each of them had seen something different.  Hers had been of a place far, far away – there were white birds with black tipped wings, heavy winds, and no trees.  It made her feel exposed, but she felt inexplicably drawn to it nonetheless.

It was very early – she could smell the dew in the earth and hear the deep breaths of the rest of the warren.  Creeping out as quietly as she could, she popped her head above the ground and sniffed the air.  Fresh.  Clean.  She opened one eye, a little frightened of what she might see.  It was green and lush; without any scarring from the night’s ritual.  But when she hopped to the clearing, she could see the markings in the ground where the dancers had burrowed – instead of scorching there was moss. 

What does it mean?  She scratched her left ear with her hind leg and hopped onto the oak stump to take in the entire pattern. She hadn’t remembered going back into the warren – just a vague knowledge that she did see a vision when she looked up to the stars.