So where's the snow?

Muddling through in Austria; God, life and a small black dog


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Chik-Lit for Foxy hens


 

I am loath to write a negative review, but was so disappointed by this collection of short stories, I feel I must.  The title had me expecting something funky for ladies who are technically a bit too old for the real Chic lit generation.

I’m afraid I didn’t get into past the first few pages of the third story.  Those I did read seemed formed from a wealthy, complacent ideology (I could do a literary analysis of why I think this, but don’t think I have any insomniacs reading this).  I try to be aware of my own as I read and of course this coloured my reaction.  However, the first story just didn’t work, the man who walks into the heroines life is unbelievable and that a dying man would accept his man as his replacement (that’s the presumption), just didn’t gel.  Likewise  in the second story when a woman is going to leave her unfaithful husband and then sleeps with him for several weeks before she leaves, even setting a date to go,  just didn’t read plausible. In her new life,she conveniently takes up with the help. This and the unbelieveably unfaithful husband had me binning the book before I got any further.

I didn’t need to know about the writer and their achievements before  I read their story either – that smacked of self-satisfaction.

This was such a chance to write some funky love stories but it was all the dreary round of divorce/death and meeting  a second love , what a shame. I  do apologise if I did miss something new and original and funky, but I think not.

Lady writers, being in love in your forties and fifties doesn’t always involve infidelity, death and angst.  Think and get our of your boxes!


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Tom’s success

Another view of the house from Tom

I fully admit that I’m staggered by the number of downloads of Tom.  As I write its over 1,400 – maybe in the next few days I’ll actually get some stars and feedback!    So many people have my book!  Mostly in the USA as expected.  I hadn’t really been thinking about the money, until my brother pointed out how much I’d have made if this was sales.  I hadn’t even gone there till then.  The greed monkey then pointed the figure out, and it would mean I wouldn’t need to look for another job this year.

Until then, I’d just been rejoicing.  Some time ago when I was desperately trying to get published, I offered God all the profits from the book, just so it would be published, and that stood.  I did ask God when all this was in the offing, what should I do but had no clear direction,  so I just priced it and left it. I was also thinking with it going out free, how this would satisfy us both.  Now I keep on dreaming of earning enough from Tom to live.  Then I think of how God has prospered us since we’ve been here, we’ve never been so financially secure, we have more than enough. I just think of having the extra to print Tom in hardback and pay for our trip to the UK this autumn. It’s my guilt with Dave working so hard and me not for once that’s driving me.  Then again, as Andrew Wommack says, let your inaginaton pray for what you want.

At the moment, I only have a vague idea for a new book, but I do have a collection of short stories, which surprisingly I find still a lot available and popular on Kindle………………


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Cobwebs

Not a cobweb

As I’ve said we’ve just been clearing out the flat a bit because of the arrival of a new three piece suite – the first we’ve ever bought. Thanks God for your blessings!  Anyway, I found behind some of the pictures and in the corners, cobwebs beginning to grow. It reminded me of when we were clearing Mum’s house when she died.  In the cupboards the cobwebs we found were dark brown, I suppose due to the smoke and the dogs. It felt to me like they were like some sort of evil that clung to her, although she cleaned her house it was never clean, if you see what I mean. Like something creeping around the edges of her life.  She’d had a difficult life in many ways  but had fed on her own bitterness and anger.   So it was a bit like sin always hovering around us in temptation and dark thoughts.  Yet as a Christian I have a spiritual broom that sweeps them away without any effort, if only Mum could have seen that.


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Routines

Our place - Snowtime!

I’m still trying to adapt to being at home so much and there do seem to be compensations.  I’ve cleaned and sorted the flat and chucked so much stuff that we’ve already accumulated in the last three and a half years. The relief of not actually having to get up the following morning is great.  Nethertheless, I don’t linger in bed, I like to be up and about the flat.

The first thing I like to do is go around and open the windows and the blinds, a sort of claiming the day. Then a good view out of the kitchen window to see what the weather is doing.  I can see if the river is running high and brown with rainwater and what sort of clouds on the horizon, meaning rain or snow or sunshine.  And of course, checking how many vultures are lurking around the bird table!  There are so many beautiful birds that do visit the table – pink and blue Jays, black white and red Woodpeckers, red Bullfinches, not to mention the Chaffinches, Greenfinches and all the family of the Tits – the mostly lovely being the long tailed Tit.  But my most vigorous visitors are the sparrows and I remind myself I’m helping an endangered species!  Field sparrows in noisy, messy groups, who sit in the feeder flicking the seed onto the ground with great abandon (not allowed to say gay anymore!). I’ve spent ages trying to get over their waste and the right mix of seeds.  But I’ve given up, I buy a bag a week from the co-op and mix it all together.  The other birds who wont sit on the table do benefit from their activities.  My next job is to go out and feed the vultures and quite often they’re sat in the bush shouting, to just fly off as I approach, returning within minutes to feast.

This week I’ve been then sitting with Bible to do some study, to find some answers.  Just what should I be doing?  There’s like a huge wall in front of me.  Maybe I’m still in my wilderness time, needing to be made usable, maybe some issues he still needs to resolve with me.  I’m more at peace now than the last week where I was unable to face a day without  a task on my to do list.

Quiet time over, its Facebook, emails and a scan of the Mail online. Then household jobs and pottering on the aforesaid jobs that goes on. At best with some audio teaching on followed by some music at full blast. Thank heavens for our thick stone walls! Evening includes preparing the fires, then supper, Andy and Joyce on the TV, and then bath with a book.

Am I allowing these routines to become my life so I’m trapped by them?  After a day doing stuff and work, the idea of a day doing just this seems so sweet.  Or is it a start of an obsession?  Or is it a way to order my life?  I’m doing loads of writing, so maybe God has fulfilled my original dream of a quiet place to study and write and paint (though not doing the painting yet). I’m starting to write my autobiography, and its surprisingly hard work. Reading my diaries takes me back to their time and place and emotions, as if they’re just happening.  I’m praying for a revelation form God as to how to create it to help people. I’ve thought of an interactive online form where people can add comments and their lives too. Can I take the negative stuff?  What would I do if someone found me who I didn’t want to meet again???? Yet, I still can’t see the use of a life to him where there’s so few people.  Where I used to crave solitude (and still do on a day off as a way of de-stressing), now I need people so I can witness and love them.  Ah well, just over four weeks till we go to Blighty……………….


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Autobiography

Dawn, me, Mum and Emma, my pony. 1974

Now that I’ve just a little time on my hands, I’ve thought about writing an autobiography.  So much has happened to me, but God has healed me of the damage which was done to me, so mabe my story might inspire others – or am I just being big headed and navel gazing?

I’ve kept a diary since I was 14, with a few gaps. So I’ve been back and read the first two of 1974 and 1975.  It’s been the most extraordinary experience of returning to myself at that time.  There’s enough in these two years enough to be the basis of a couple of chapters. I’d completely forgotten how often I fell off my pony! Out of this reading I looked up my first two boyfriends on the internet.  One I found and it was really strange to see his picture.  Its difficult also to remember that all I’m reading happened 35 years ago, and that he’s not the hunk he was then and probably doesn’t even remember me.  The other emmigrated to Australia and there’s no sign of him.

I’ve already written one book, which really needs re -writing, having never been published, and now I see its faults.  I know how difficult it is to be published so I’m thinking of an online book which I’ll write over the next couple of years. Money doesn’t interest me, its getting it to readers. The other quandry is whether to fictionalise it ir write it as it is.

What do you think folks??????

Oh and the permafrost has arrived, and its snowing.