Romance writing…

…is often dismissed by ‘serious’ writers, yet it is a huge industry loved by millions of readers, including me. That is why I am loudly and proudly declaring myself a lover of romance writing; after all, don’t we all deserve to have a bit of romance in our daily lives? If you haven’t picked a title up for many years give them a try, I’d forgotten how much I loved the genre! I’m currently devouring Mills & Boon books at a great rate and loving them! I’m even writing my own romance novel and enjoying it greatly! Perfect escape on a beautiful summer’s day; it’s just a shame I’m at work right now and can’t get my book out for fear of being caught reading rather than working!!


I am buzzing with excitement…

…about the Historical romance stories I am in the process of writing. I am going to submit them to Mills & Boon as I’ve always been a fan and keep my fingers crossed! Then when they’re complete I’ve got a M&B modern to finish. I’m so glad I’ve got my writing mojo back, sometimes all it takes is to admit where your inner voice is telling you to go and embrace it!

Daily Prompt: Realize (realise in my UK case!)

via Daily Prompt: Realize

Taking a train journey makes you realise very quickly how important it is to select the right seat. Sitting next to someone when there are spare seats elsewhere will often reward you with a look¬†that betrays¬†murderous thoughts, or at least a desire to move far away. However, as this would only be possible if they could gather their possessions and slink to another part of the carriage without having to engage the usurper, let’s be honest, that’s never going to happen. So instead they’ll try their best to concentrate on their book, newspaper or mobile device, but will¬†actually¬†be seething at the total bad luck they’ve incurred at being joined on their journey by that train’s (albeit sociable) resident¬†nutter.
Then there’s the very bad move of selecting the seat located nearest the toilet. You may have joined one of these trains; the ones with the roomy toilet carriage that has only one or two single seats at each end with¬†copious¬†room for push-chairs, bicycles¬†and wheelchairs and thought, ‘Ah! A single seat. I’m feeling unsociable today so I will take that gift with both hands.’ However, what quickly becomes apparent when sitting on the seat nearest the facilities is how you inadvertently take on the role of Toilet Guardian, whether¬†you want to or not. Some people may love the prospect of wielding power over hapless mortals with full bladders (or worse), but for me I just want to sit and read my book without feeling obligated¬†to tell every caller that ‘there’s someone in there.’ The scenario follows a little like this.
Someone approaches the toilet and presses the ‘door open’ button. (This is the moment when I pray that¬†the user has¬†remembered to lock the door.) Nothing happens. They press it again. Still nothing happens. To avoid them standing alongside me with a hapless expression of angst on their face¬†any¬†longer, I feel duty-bound to utter ‘I think there’s someone in there’. (I¬†think¬†there’s someone in there? Why do I doubt the fact? I just saw them go in less than three minutes ago and unless they’ve squeezed themselves down the pan to avoid buying a ticket I’m¬†pretty¬†sure they’re still in there.) Anyway, the poor individual mutters a thanks (if I’m lucky) and either waits in vain for about twenty seconds, hoping that their business¬†will be finished rapidly, or scurries away in search of another loo, or more likely to sit crossed legged until the train reaches their destination.
There¬†are¬†moments of levity in the Toilet Guardian’s duty though. Mostly these come about as someone¬†is caught¬†unawares¬†by¬†the door gliding open exactly¬†six¬†seconds after they were convinced they’d locked it, but thankfully usually before they had begun to disrobe. There are also those who think they can hide in the¬†cubicle¬†as the guard approaches with his ticket machine, wildly¬†oblivious to the fact¬†that¬†it’s worth buying a cheap single to frankly¬†anywhere¬†just to escape¬†the toilet’s pungent aroma for the next hour and a half. Yes, I think I may have remembered why it’s probably worth tolerating the other carriage fodder for ninety minutes or so, otherwise you end up doing an unpaid role that frankly is appreciated by no-one and garners you strange looks for voluntarily choosing a seat right outside a toilet. However, if my next¬†shift as Toilet Guardian¬†does¬†materialise¬†this weekend¬†I shall of course be taking notes (as I pretend to read my book), just in case someone forgets to¬†lock¬†the door release…

How much time do we really waste thinking “I really should…”

I just re-read something that coincidentally I wrote exactly four years ago today. I didn’t intend to read it because of the date; it was in an old file and I just happened to see it. However, after finishing it, it struck me that I was saying the same things about making change etc back then that I’m still saying now and was probably saying twenty years ago, so why have I not done it yet? Will I still be saying the same things in another twenty years, having made not the slightest inroad towards accomplishing my goals? Or perhaps they’re not really my goals after all? Perhaps I tell myself as such, just to reassure me that I’m on society’s pre-defined path, although to be honest, I’m not sure I really fit that mould anymore either.
Consequently, where should ‘trying to be a better person’ end and ‘trying to be the best version of me’ begin? I guess it’s time I found out as like everyone, I’m not getting any younger. However, this is one journey of discovery that I don’t believe can be rushed and the older I get I learn a little more about myself. Hopefully when I read this back in four years’ time I won’t still be thinking “I really should…”

Daily post prompt: Nightmare

I wake, trying to slow my racing heart.
It was a noise, definitely. Someone’s downstairs.
I grab my hairdryer (the only thing to hand) and slowly pull open the¬†bedroom door. I can’t hear anything now but that doesn’t mean they’ve gone. Or did I imagine it? I was having a pretty intense dream when the noise woke me up so maybe it wasn’t in the house at all? Maybe it was in my head.
I exhale slowly, not realising I’ve even been holding my breath and head back from the landing into my room. I feel a bit foolish, although I’m sure to switch on the light before¬†I get back into bed, just in case.
It’s only when I’ve pulled the duvet up to my chin and decided to read for a few minutes that I notice my wardrobe door swinging slowly open. I can’t see inside but I’ve got this horrible¬†idea that there’s someone hiding there.
As I try to decide whether I should have a look or just call on a neighbour, the door springs open and he’s in the room. I don’t even have time to scream before it’s over. Then I’m standing over myself watching the scene unfold.
He’s trying to make it look like a robbery gone wrong and I want to shake him by the shoulders and tell him it’ll never work. The detectives have witnessed¬†this sort of thing all too often and they’ll see through it straight away.
I bend down and whisper in his ear that he’ll never get away with it and for a second I’m sure he hears me, but then he’s tipping the contents of my handbag out on the bed and taking ten pounds cash from my purse, along with my bank card. I can read his thoughts; I’m inside his head as he wonders what my PIN is, but he’ll never figure it out. He’s none too smart this one.
To be honest, it kind of makes me wonder why I ever went out with him in the first place.

Daily Post Prompt: Childhood

So I haven’t been doing too well keeping up with the daily prompts, however when I saw today was childhood, I really thought that was one I could get on board with.

Childhood for me was a mixture of emotions and experiences, some happy some sad and some forgettable; just as it is for every other person on the planet. However, the prompt also made me think about how we¬†define childhood and how we decide when it is over. For instance, I consider myself¬†a forty-one year old big child. I love soft toys, watching cartoons and laughing at farts and fortunately for me my husband is just the same (not so much the soft toys, but there you go.) Perhaps it’s because we don’t have children that we have not felt the need to grow up and act responsibly, (although we know plenty of people who do have children and don’t act¬†the way¬†they probably should either) so I’m not convinced that’s the only reason. We also met when we were barely out of childhood ourselves and have been together since we were eighteen, so maybe that is a contributing factor too.
I’m not suggesting that I see the world through a child’s eyes as that probably wouldn’t be a healthy outlook for someone of my age, however I also don’t think that there’s any harm in trying to look at everything around you with a child’s wonderment, hopefully as yet¬†unsullied¬†by adulthood’s cynicism and weariness. It’s admittedly¬†hard to do at first; we’re taught that adults should behave a certain way which usually doesn’t include standing in wonderment with your mouth open or jumping up and down clapping your hands, but once achieved it’s then remarkably easy to let yourself be carried along on a child’s enthusiasm for something new and incredibly rewarding too.
So that’s my thought about childhood; who says it has to be over once you grow up?


Daily prompt: Solitude

I’m not always a fan of responding to prompts as I somehow feel I should be able to draw inspiration from everything around me via my own imagination. However, all writers sometimes need a little bit of help and that’s why I decided to try writing a response to the daily prompt.

Solitude conjures up a multitude of different reactions for me; I imagine standing looking out to sea and feeling the overwhelming sense that there is so much more to our existence than we can imagine in our earthly forms and that one day it may (or equally may not) be revealed to us, probably when we leave this life. I can equally feel solitude in a room full of people which is not necessarily such a pleasant experience as having suffered from anxiety and depression for many years, it can be a knock-on reaction to how I am feeling that day. Finally, I frequently long for solitude in these overpopulated isles of ours and wish, just occasionally, that there were still enough places free of people to get truly lost or avoid seeing another soul for days or even longer. However, when I’m feeling in such an unsociable frame of mind I have to sometimes remind myself of the old adage ‘be careful what you wish for’, as was I suddenly to find myself truly alone, without family, friends or even strangers to pass the time of day with, I feel I would be more unhappy than I could ever contemplate. Yes, people can be annoying and I certainly see plenty of those during my days at work, however I can’t imagine I would be happier suddenly finding myself¬†totally devoid of human company either.
Solitude will mean¬†something different for everyone; whether it is being away from total strangers or getting time apart from those whom we’re meant to hold dearest to us, however we should all bear in mind that one day we may all wake up and find ourselves completely alone and I for one would not relish that thought at all.