I live with hubby on the South Coast of England. I often write in the beach hut gaining inspiration by walking along the beach with Lily my golden retriever.
I have a B.A. Hons in Psychology, B.A. Hons in Eng. Lit and Creative Writing. M.A. Religion and Mysticism; Hon.Dr.Sc.
Writing is actually a fascinating concept. I often ponder on
how and why it evolved. Why did we start writing? Was it to facilitate trading?
Did authorship develop from that same source? Or, was it an entirely different
avenue? How did the two separate avenues of vocalization and sign language
evolve? Did people listen to the trickles of a steam or the raging of a volcano
and try to mimic them and in so doing build up a language. Did signs, the
separate consonants and vowels evolve from vocal sound of a whistling wind or a
When I was writing my latest novel it began as an historic
suspense romance but changed to comedy which I’ve never aspired to write but
did when faced with illness. The point is, in my story; an Immortal appears in the
later chapters. As authors know full well, characters have a habit of just
springing into a novel without any prior warning and the writer if being true
to his or her muse, does not delete it. So I came to the point of this
character’s language. Yes, he did have one, but how would it sound?
How would immortals or even our earliest ancestors exchange
goods or ideas? Would they vocalise the sound of a raging wind, the crackle of
thunder, the howl of a wolf? Further, how would they put it down in writing? Would
they use signs that literally describe the wind? If one looks at the letter ‘W’
it does actually give the initial sound of the wailing of the wind. Now it’s
the same interpretation in German – interesting.. So in portraying the language
of an immortal, I imagined how he or she would vocalize the sound of space, nature,
the elements and animals. It was thought provoking and made for interesting writing but then I realised my
reader would be nonplussed with the variation of description and use of vowels.
I know I was. So I deleted hours of the
painstaking adaption of our language to the renderings of the Immortal.
I do appreciate the system of writing varies; the Egyptian
symbology is different to the Chinese, and so on.
So I thought maybe if I did a little research on each
writing system I might glimpse the source of writing if not vocalization. Maybe
with a fleeting thought might come some enlightenment? So for starters. The
letter ‘O’ simulates the howling of a wolf, the ‘o’ has facets of the howl as
does the ‘w’ as it carries on the wind. How did these vowels come about?
Thereagain did singing come first? The high notes of the
soprano emulating birds or raindrops or the base/baritone vocalizing the
thunder of the storm. If I was just starting out I might have opted to research
these fascinating concepts.
Another reason for the above is my interest in the history
of the evolving presentations of the modern novel. I was fascinated with the presentation
and language of the first novel in our literary history, entitled ‘Pamela
‘created by Samuel Richardson, 1740. He used the epistolary style form which
was quite absorbing.
At university, amongst other
subjects, I did study the etymology and formation of our modern language from
two main roots of our Western language, the soft poetic lilt, of Latin
languages and the harsh pragmatism of the Teutonic; of course there are the
softer tones in the Germanic language, but that is another area of debate. We were instructed to write one short story
using the Teutonic roots and then another from the Latin. I had to work through
dictionaries for nearly every word. It
was not tiring at all, it was fascinating.
It appears a crime novel benefits from the use of the Teutonic – Germanic
languages whilst a romance needs the Latin.
I see I’ve written enough for now but will
return next time with more ideas and hopefully you will have some as well, I
would welcome your input and comments
Zach’s dream of opening his own veterinary practice seemed
out of reach. He could just about afford
the rent on his one bed flat above the Co-op. Then he received a phone call
from the local solicitor.
He’d inherited a decrepit manor. There were holes in the
roof, some walls had caved in and there were only a couple of habitable rooms.
That was enough for him after his tiny flat. He was delighted to learn he’d
also inherited a small fortune, but only enough to renovate some of the manor. That
was fine by Zach; he had time to restore the place, room by room. He could even
hope to open a small practice.
But, the solicitor did not warn him about the complications
– the strange inhabitants and the strange importance of the chickens – lots of chickens.
Only a week or so after moving in, there was a car crash
just outside the manor. Zach became a hero, saving a young woman’s life. He promptly fell in love with her. But how could
he win her heart? Her infant son was in danger – how could he save him? Then
there were the chickens….
Listen to the Chicken came as a surprise to me. I was writing a supernatural novel but then things began to happen. Bad thingx – tragic things – good things and then I ended up chucking the supernatural and writing comedy. The result is the birth of Listen to the Chicken. Oh yes and a warning – a message that I hope will save others unneeded fears and grief.
So this is a longer post but one I needed to write.
I love good health – banal statement but true. Never had a really bad day for years. Okay the normals – flu yep – kidney stones yep – Raynauds yep, all very common. But I own to a gritty determination and some brain cells to help me on my way.
When three lethal illnesses knocked on my door, I battled
through. I’m not very brave, but I made it. Then one day, I went to the optician. I couldn’t
see the subtitles very well on the TV. I thought nothing of it and just looked
forward to an eye test and some ‘glam’ new frames.
The first optician said I had tiny cataracts, but nothing to
worry about, only I did need stronger glasses. I was pleased to choose some ’glam’ frames. But,
I wasn’t happy, even with these new glasses; the sub-titles were still fuzzy. I went to another optician, who said I had
medium cataracts; I just needed my new glasses adjusting. So I thought I’d have
more ‘glam’ frames with tiny crystals on the rims. After two weeks of wearing them, I could
hardly see the TV sub-titles I was also seeing halos. So my gritty
determination raised its head; I went to another optician; this guy’s office
was in an old house tucked away in a side street. But he’d treated pilots in the Royal Air Force
– he was brilliant. After an hour long examination he said quietly
‘I’d like to send you to the hospital – see a consultant.’
I still didn’t think too much, nothing could be as bad as my torn oesophagus, which still isn’t good but it’s okay. I can still eat.
Could it? Could it be as bad as a torn oesophagus? Oh yes it could. I went along to see the consultant at the hospital eye clinic. Nice guy, about sixty years old, brilliant and brutal. So after an hour long examination, two nurses suddenly entered the room and stood either side of me. The Consultant drew up his chair into the middle of room and sat facing me. It looked like an interview with the Godfather. He said. ‘Look I’m going to give it to you straight. I want you to understand this is serious.
I nodded. He said, ‘you have Chronic Acute Angle Glaucoma.’ I raised my eyebrows – never heard of it, but I waited.
He said, ‘you need treatment immediately. I’m not going to beat about the bush; you have a serious condition – very serious. I want you to know – you need treatment now.’
I nodded, still not worried really. Why was he talking to me
like this? Did he think I was a moron? Of
course I understood what he was saying, yes, I needed treatment. Then he took a
breath – this is true – absolutely step by step.
He said, ‘it’s like this, if you don’t get this treated, you
will go blind. It happens in seconds. One moment you’ll be talking to me and in
the next thirty seconds you’ll be blind. If you don’t have treatment you will
go blind – everything will go black. We
won’t be able to get it back.’
I just sat still – couldn’t react, couldn’t think – just listened.
I felt the nurse’s hand on my shoulder. I knew then why the nurses were in the room.
But I didn’t have fit of hysterics; I went still – silent.
I looked at him. Silence.
Then he spread his arms wide. ‘I mean this, you must have treatment, you can’t not have treatment. I’m going to give you a list and I want to you study it. You’re now an ‘Emergency’. Until we start treatment, if you have any of these conditions – nausea – headache – blurry eyes – see halos you get to a hospital fast, we’ll only have six hours to operate to save you going blind.
I nodded – numbly and left. Hubby was downstairs in the
waiting area when I appeared. He walked over to me and I whispered. I don’t
know why I whispered, ‘got some news – tell you outside.’
I didn’t. Riding back in the car with Brian I was mainly
silent, – very unusual for me. I just said, ‘tell you when we get back.’ He could
tell I didn’t want to talk. How could I? We were on busy main roads; I just
didn’t want a car crash. I’m, sure he’d have been okay, but that was the way I
was thinking then.
Two minutes away from
home I saw the daffodils on the central island of the roundabout. Beautiful –
yellow – bright yellow daffodils. I drank it all in. I wanted to remember them.
I wondered if I would be able to see them in my mind if I went blind. Anyway, once
back indoors, I actually made some coffee, then sat down and said, ‘‘Brian, I’m,
going blind. ‘
There’s no good way to say it.
The next morning I sat in front of my PC and thanked God I
was a touch typist. At least if I did go blind, I could type. I could still
write. But my typing wasn’t that good. I wouldn’t see the mistakes. Could I
afford an editor? But my passion wouldn’t die just because I was going blind –
would it? I’d find a way, maybe dictate it? Would I be able to tell a story
instead of writing it? I now have tears
in my eyes writing this. I haven’t cried, up until right now – four months
after the verdict.
So anyway, I realized as I waited for treatment, I could laugh or cry. If I got all morbid, my family would cry, my friends would cry, my cockapoo would cry. And she wouldn’t know what she’s crying about. No – I had to laugh. Yes – laugh. Not hysterical laughter, just laughter – I desperately needed that in my life right then. That very morning I scoured the TV for comedy films. I was half-way through writing a chilling novel on haunting, I decided to rewrite it as a comedy – laugh at the blackness to come. Yes that’s it, I would write comedy. I’d also watch comedy films, and read comedy books.
Short history: as a child, I wrote comedy spats at school –
even the headmistress came to see them; they were ridiculous and childishly funny.
Then I wrote jokey little stories to my sister ill with TB in a sanatorium. But
then things happened; my life changed. I
was ten and I grew up fast. I turned to poetry – more and
more. Later, I turned to psychology. I came from an abused childhood, with
a social phobia – crippling, but in a way it gave me direction. Now I’m just so
glad I studied to be a psychologist. To
keep it short, I had twenty years of love, sadness, tears, laughter and
incredible clients whom I loved and who loved me back – we still do.
I decided to ‘change direction’, as I call it – I turned to
writing; back to my first love.
So that brings me back to that first morning, when I decided
to face the threat of blindness with laughter in my life.
I turned to Amazon and picked up a book by Nick Spalding, ‘Checking Out’, seemed appropriate, a comedy. I was laughing in minutes but before that, I didn’t like comedy books, wouldn’t touch them with a barge pole and here I was alone in my study, reading Nick’s book laughing and in stitches –true!!!, This guy was my saviour, brilliant. I didn’t think anyone or anything would pick me up so fast. Thank you Nick. You don’t know me, but I’m thanking you. I thought the comedy might just break the morbidity of the dark world of blindness. It did more, Nick’s book, picked me up, swung me around in whirl of laughter, and saved me. I love him – always will. I love Ricky Gervais too, I watched his films – all that were on TV and his stand-up comedy shows.
So just to finish the tale, back at the hospital a few days later after the diagnosis, they realized I had raging blood pressure – who wouldn’t after that sentence? They couldn’t do the operations – boring a hole in my irises and other things. So the race was on to get the blood pressure down; I was on the verge of a stroke now and spent two days in hospital. Thank God the meds kicked in.
I had moments of terror, why – why were they waiting to do
the op’ when it was such a lethal condition? But, I had to leave it to them.
We won through; it took twelve weeks of A & E treatment, drops, waiting and laser operations – twenty minutes long. I had to stay still whilst they did the laser. I did I was terrified.
Now the good news – four months later. The good doctors and nurses, saved forty per
cent of my sight. They can’t restore it, but Lord, I can see. That’s all I want, I don’t care if I wear
pebble glasses, I don’t care if I still can’t
see the subtitles on the TV. I don’t
care if I can’t see that car on the road racing towards me and Lucy – my cockapoo.
There’s always someone there to see me across the road. You know, I never realized just how kind and helpful
strangers can be. So many good hearts holding out a hand.
Writing this four months later, after treatment, I’ve finished my first comedy book, ‘Listen
to the Chicken.’ By the way, I can still see those daffodils in my mind. Of
course my eyes are deteriorating but the doctors tell me they can control it
now. But – oh yes, but, they can’t promise. Maybe the condition will outlive
me, I don’t know, I don’t care – I think. Right now and for some time I can
see. I can get on with writing – comedy.
So dear friends, I’m sitting here today and for the very
first time I’m writing about it – I just couldn’t before. But now, I’m listening
to music – the golden beat of Magic Slim and the Blues Jeans Blues Band – bliss
and writing another comedy.
I feel good and I want to say to all of you dear readers out there, that have this bloody condition, there is hope – experts who can save or prolong your sight, you just have to do all they say, have the lasers, the operations, take the drops and laugh – yes laugh – read a comedy book!!! Of course there are fears, I’m not a robot, but just read the book.
So now I realize the reason why the doctor was so darn blunt. He was trying to save my sight. There must be some sufferers who haven’t listened to him or other doctors, some patients who haven’t turned up for the treatments and then one morning woken up blind. So please, don’t waste any time – have your eyes tested regularly. Two opticians didn’t pick up my condition, the third one did – thank you God. So don’t accept blurry sight. Just keep searching for the optician that agrees – there’s a reason why you have blurry eyes.
Acute Angle Glaucoma
is very rare, only 2 percent of the population have it. One more thing, if you
have the gene, make sure your family are tested too, the consultant told me I
had to warn each member of my family to have regular eye tests.
So back to ’Listen to the Chicken.’ It saved me during those months. I loved doing the cover too. I also love to paint; the paintings sold all over the world. But I’m just sticking to the writing and digital art right now!!
Love you all.
P.S. As I said, just writing the second comedy book. Haven’t
got a title yet. I think it might be ‘Follow the Cockapoo!!
Do pour a cup of tea, I have the cakes. We can have a nice chat together.
Due to illness over the past eighteen months, I have not been able to post my usual articles and images. Happily, I am now recovering and the energy is flowing back again.
The illnesses which thankfully are not the lethal kind, but nevertheless impeded any interesting activity on the blog.
I will, however, have some interesting news on these three ailments which I think will be able to help others suffering from the same debilitating experiences.
Actually, two ailments are really interesting which led me to explore a whole new diet and a loss of two stone in weight which I managed to accumulate over the years. I was not obese but at 5ft. 2inches or let’s say 63 kilos, I had to take the next size up from what was once my normal size, to be able to zip up a dress or pull on a pair of leggings and another size up to hide those nasty little tyres!! Like any other lady, I like a sleek fit but that was proving impossible. I dislike cardigans or jackets to cover dresses or jeans. But, however much one can find some delightful cover-ups, they are still that, coverups. So what’s the point of buying a gorgeous outfit only to hide it with a cardigan!!
I wouldn’t recommend the illnesses but definitely, the diet is really healthy and a delightful way of losing the odd pounds. Mind you, you can say goodbye to fudge covered in chocolate and mouthwatering double cream raspberry ripple ice cream, lemon meringue pies, etc., My mouth is watering writing this so although the new diet is exciting I would like to indulge now and then, but it just isn’t possible, not unless I want another endoscopy, you know – the operation where they push tubes down your throat that wind down into y our stomach and stretch your esophagus – and no anesthetic!!! Well they do offer a sedative so no pain is involved just my own cowardly terror. I cannot imagine why some people refuse to have sedation. I wanted – begged for a general anesthetic but they refused and I must say, the sedative did work. But I would suggest you have the throat spray as well which freezes the throat so you don’t feel anything going down your throat prior to your gut. I have to say this just in case someone just has the sedation and feels something, then you might come back and tell me off. So yes you’ve guessed it, GERD is involved but for some of us with that condition, other ailments jump on the wagon.
Let me explain. I was thoroughly enjoying life, the children had grown and flown the nest so I was free to indulge in my passions, writing, painting, blogging and even selling books, quite a lot actually. But then one sunny day I opened a tin of salmon. One of my favorite foods to have alongside a fresh green salad with beetroot. I couldn’t resist having a forkful. Within seconds, I felt this lump in my throat. Well, it was lodged in the chest area. I didn’t think anything of it, after all, I was having trouble swallowing tablets as well. But to my annoyance, this bolus like lump wouldn’t shift. I ran around the garden literally but still couldn’t budge it. So I had to forcibly get it up and I won’t go into that. Anyhow this happened on another three occasions when I was eating,
Hubby said I should go to the doctors but I wouldn’t hear of it. It was just a glitch, nothing to worry about. A week later I had to attend my local surgery for results of a blood test. As the nurse was finishing typing up my notes I said, ‘Umm, I hope you can help me, it’s nothing really, but I have this lump in my chest whenever I eat.
The nurse swiveled round to me, a vacuous smile on her face and said. ‘I’ll just ring doctor.’
I sat back. ‘Oh – but it’s nothing really.l’
She smiled kindly and phoned through. To cut a long story short within days I was in the hospital. I would have been in before that but it was a weekend. So Monday morning I was on the operating table having an endoscopy.
Oh my God. I had a dreadful two days waiting for this blessed procedure, by which time my blood pressure rocketed even though I tried meditation, breathing exercises the lot, but it went even higher.
Before the operation, the surgeon kindly asked me why was I so afraid? To which I replied, ‘well I can’t stand the thought of having things down my throat, in fact, it’s one of my worst nightmares.’
He replied ‘But you won’t feel it.’
I replied, ‘I asked for an anesthetic and was told I could only have sedation.’
He smiled and said. ‘You won’t feel a thing. Really.’ he took my hand gently. ‘Really, I promise.’
I looked down. ‘It’s not that so much it’s something else as well.’
He smiled ‘Tell me.’
I said, ‘I might punch you.’
He sat back, ‘Why?’
‘Well because I’ll see those tubes coming towards me and I’ll just start punching. I really don’t want to but it’s a kind of natural instinct you know? My grandfather was the boxing champion – knocked out the reigning champion during the war.’
Seriously, I said that I’m not kidding.
The surgeon laughed, ‘I promise I shall be putting you out. It’s one of those drugs where you forget the instant I do something.’
I frowned. ‘I have an excellent memory. What if I remember and I start swinging.?”
He creased up laughing, ‘I promise you, you won’t.’
I still didn’t believe him, but I see I’ve written enough for today. I don’t know how much I can write in one on these blogs. So I shall tell you the rest next time.
Have a lovely day folks.
I will be putting on my new book images and details, as well tomorrow or the next day.
Forgive my absence from here. I have now recovered from two bouts of illness and am feeling good, stronger and raring to go again.
I thought I would share this great offer from two sets of authors offering delicious bites from their new novels. This gives you a chance completely free to taste and decide which box appeals to you. It could be you are hungry for both. Great appetite for the cordon bleu of the book world. I know spicy bangers and buttery potato mash can be tempting, and beefburgers topped with red hot chilies tongue tingling, but the taste bomb explodes with mouthwatering delight on biting into these enticing 3-star cheffy morsels.
Sssh – I have to whisper this, they’re free – YES – FREE from http://bit.ly/2BB12mg
Have fun dear readers. I will be back soon. The Voice will be on again on Saturday and I cannot wait to see Will.I.Am Been a fan of his since the Black Eyed Peas. I have two choices, to get out the Sharaz or knitting. I think he deserves the Sharaz!!!
Hi there. I hope you are well. I try not to write at night as I seem to be a different animal than the morning. The vocabulary is different, and a wicked sense of humour appears. It is especially different after a late dinner and red wine, Shiraz preferably. After imbibing, I scoot off to the study, my head full of exciting news to share. My fingers fly across the keys and the words flow. I finish with a satisfied smile. The next morning, I read the words, shocked and biting my lip, I couldn’t possibly put that on the blog. With a sigh, I delete it.
So what to write? Googling and scrolling across the Net, I came across an article by the renowned Richard Ridley on writing blurbs and bios. I was so impressed and copied it into a folder to read often. It is full of tips and advice that are like fresh daisies in a jaded lawn. I really got caught up – inspired with his tips on bios and things. Gritting my teeth, I decided to take the plunge. I ripped out my biography on Author Central. It was kind of boring really, four hundred words of my life history. If I was bored, then my readers must be bored to death. I mean who wants to know about my grandmother ‘s teeth, or that I soaked my sons’ nappies in a bucket. Those were the days before you could throw them away. Pegs for noses came in handy. It was a mess I can tell you.
Anyway to continue, I looked into a wide empty screen and asked my inner writer for the words to appear. What could she write that would inspire people. Richard wrote his bio in three lines – I was delighted to read it. Yes! Mine shouldn’t take any more than that. So here it is:
‘Katy lives on the South Coast. You will find her dragged along the beach by a frenzied dog, all of seven stone, whose main aim in life is to lick everyone.’
Actually, first of all, I wrote, ‘Katy lives on the South Coast with a husband mesmerized by grave stones, and a frenzied dog whose main aim in life is to drag her along the beach licking everyone.’
I thought that maybe I was being unkind talking about hubby like that. But actually it is true. For instance. when we went to Greece, I was on the beach deciding whether or not I would actually join the other sun worshippers and go topless. Meanwhile hubby was in the nearest cemetery looking at Greek grave stones. That was a glorious holiday. I remember hubby came back from the graveyard with some of the Greek wine from one of the beach cafes. He was legless by the time he reached me. Wine is definitely stronger out there.
I am overjoyed with my new short bio’, since taking off the other three hundred words, I feel naked – free – light and ready to take my frenetic dog down the beach. Actually, it is true about her licking everything. I did take her to training classes but she’s been expelled twice. Not for being naughty, but because she loves people to death, one of her things is licking men and women’s bottoms. clothed of course. Honestly, it’s embarrassing for hubby. I can get away with it as the men usually turn around and give me a beaming smile. But poor hubby does get some alarming reactions from ladies – poor man. By the time he’s finished explaining it’s Lily who’s doing the licking, and not him, she’s nowhere in sight. Well, she’s in the bushes flirting with the black labrador.
We’ll that’s the bio, but I will have to come back to write the blog. But now it’s late and as I explained above, I can’t possibly write in the evening, as my alter ego takes over – wicked woman. So I shall do some night reading. I wish you all a wonderful good night and sweet dreams.