My Very First Drum

In 2005 I lived for a few months with Charmian and Darryl, my sister and brother-in-law in Glentham, a tiny village in  Lincolnshire, England, with a population of just over 250 people.  

For me it was a perfect time.  I loved the country life and helping out in the village store which Darryl and Charm owned.   The village store comprises everything from bank and post office, to grocer and even the off licence.

My favourite pastimes included walking through farmlands with the dogs; going for bicycle rides and just getting back into the nature of life.  

It was also a time during which I wrote so many wonderful poems. 

This little children's poem was one of the poems I wrote during that time and I'm delighted that I found a picture which so suits the tone of the poem.  I do hope you enjoy it.

My Very First Drum

Grandad said

He knew where to find

An empty pepper tin

To make me a drum

My very first drum

So we climbed

And we climbed

The wooden stairs

Right up to the attic

A very large room

Grandad said

It’s the granary

Where the salted bacon’s kept

Where the ham is kept as well

It’s all stored here

On huge great big hooks

Hanging and ready

To be hauled downstairs

For dinner or lunch

Made by your Mum or Gran

Grandad found

The empty tin

Up on the shelf

Where he’d put it himself

In the corner of the room

In great excitement I took off the lid

And my nose took off as well

I sneezed and sneezed

Grandad chuckled and wheezed

Well it was the pepper tin

Grandad polished

Until the tin sparkled and shone

Made a hole in the top

And the bottom

Then he threaded some string

Clean through the holes

And there it was

A beautiful thing

All shiny and bright

My very first drum

Tiger Art

For something completely different.   Here's a drawing I did as a gift for a family member who loves tigers.  Just to clarify, I'm not an artist but I really love the effect which can be created using the technique I used which is called 'pointillism'.

Pointillism was introduced to the art world by Georges Seurat during the latter part of the 19th Century.  According to http://www.incredibleart.org/links/pointillator.html, 'the concept of pointillism is to create solid space of colour by using dots of two or more colours in an area'. 

In my drawing, I used 10 different grades of lead pencil to give me the desired effect.  This is not the best picture as it was taken with my mobile phone but the use of dots is quite distinct as is the pile of books underneath it...  :)

Of course, the post wouldn't be complete without a poem.

ABSTRACT SYMMETRY

I stared down at the fabric of the road ahead of me

Hypnotised by the stitches binding the tarmac into one

Mile after mile my eyes were drawn along

The stitch upon stitch in a perfectly straight line

My thoughts converged with my vision for a time

As before me ran the perfectly formed stripes of the tiger

Converging at points and fading at others

The line upon line in an abstract symmetry

I raised my eyes to the distant streaming lines

Blinked twice or thrice to clear my errant thoughts and mind

Back to the ever present winding road ahead of me

The black upon black of wheels on newly laid tar

Faith Reflection Day

My reflection post for the A-Z Challenge is complete and posted.  Hooray!

Today is Sunday and my reflection for today focuses on my personal walk with Jesus, who is most definitely My Lord and without whom I would be a very lost soul indeed.

When I began writing The Daighacaer, my life was in a bit of a mess and I honestly believed that if I lost myself in my writing, my life would somehow improve.  I loved the world I was creating but I was still a lost soul and, although after the first burst of enthusiasm, I dabbled in writing for months and months, I always felt that something was missing.

About two years ago I rededicated myself to The Lord and had the surprise of my life.  When I sat down to write my story, words flowed far more easily and the pleasure I got from writing it was (and still is) incredible.

So, although my work has already been dedicated, as of this Sunday, I formally dedicate my blog to The Lord and Sundays will be my Faith Reflection Days.

To start off the process, each Sunday during the months of May and June, I'll post a few verses of the story of Joseph - told in poetic form but also from a little bit of different perspective.  Nothing I've written is meant to contradict the Bible but is simply a look at the story from how I view Joseph's personal perspective as the recipient of all that occurred and, hopefully, to bring a lighter side to the story while not detracting from the message at all.

JOSEPH, SON OF JACOB

The days were short when I was young

And the nights so very long

I suppose every child feels that way

Not wanting to sleep, waiting for day

I knew each evening with my very first yawn

That there was an awfully long wait until dawn

My father, Jacob, had many children indeed

Twelve sons as well as some daughters to feed

We travelled the desert as many did before

With goats and sheep, pots and pans galore

Ever aware and listening out for our God's command

Waiting for Him to reach out His Holy Hand

I knew I was special and as I grew older

My boasts became louder, my actions bolder

My father loved me dearly, set me apart

And I traded on that love from the start

Today I'm not proud of the taunts I threw

And I understand my brothers' point of view

It was the cloak which upset them the most

"How many colours, what style" I'd boast

Then I started on those fateful dreams

They as the stars, bowing to me it seems

I knew it was a vision from The Holy One

And I know now that what was, had to be done

[to be continued...]

A - Z Reflections

First and foremost - a huge thank you to the A-Z Challenge Team for a fabulous event:
Arlee arleebird@gmail.com; Tina tndowney@gmail.com; Shannon thewarriormuse@gmail.com; Stephen  stephen.tremp@yahoo.com; Konstanz nothought2small@gmail.com; Alex alexjcavanaugh@earthlink.net; Damyanti atozstories@gmail.com; Matt mattmrush@gmail.com; Jeremy jeremy@jmhdigital.com; Nicole Contact Page; Livia lpmoviegoer@gmail.com; and Diane wolferock@earthlink.net. 

Without you, what a boring April we might have had... :)

To you all, a bouquet of cosmos

The beautiful, appropriately variegated flower which graces our South African fields and roadsides over the Easter period to herald in autumn days

This was my first A-Z Challenge.  What a well organised and delightful event it's been, although not without personal challenges of its own.  Ten days into the Challenge, I changed to Blogger and had inordinate difficulties trying to export everything from my previous blog.  In the end, I simply copied everything into Word (a mammoth task as I had a lot to copy) and put up my first 10 A-Z posts in order.  From there, I wrote a post each day.  I did consider writing a whole bunch and scheduling them so that I would have more time to visit other people but I was happy with how things worked out in the end.  As I didn't want to disrupt my Challenge, all my other work is still waiting to be moved over.

Apart from the delight of rising to the Challenge, I have discovered a whole new world of writers and have linked to many, although not nearly all, of those I wish to follow.  It's very difficult to single out special people because everyone's help and support is so appreciated but, having said that, there are a few people who need a mention.  For all your assistance, comments and advice, my special mentions and thanks must go to:

Julia, of Just Jules  http://adoseofjules.blogspot.com/ 

Nick, of Scattergun Scribblings http://nickwilford.blogspot.com/

John, of The Bathroom Monologues http://johnwiswell.blogspot.com/p/about-john-wiswell.html

My theme focused on excerpts from the fantasy I'm writing and I hope everyone enjoyed the glimpses...

Best wishes for the year ahead.

Felicity

COLD ID BY DOZE

One of my favourite pastimes, other than living in Faeré with my band of heroes, is to write poetry.  So, as we're headed into winter in our corner of the playground, here's a poem for the occasion.  It's best read aloud. :)

As an added bonus, I've linked to a delightful site for a recipe.  If you don't like cider, add some crushed ginger and use a ginger drink such as ginger ale or ginger beer.  Actually, the ginger would be good in any toddy.

COLD ID BY DOZE

(to be read aloud)

I’ve a cold id by doze

Id by head

Id by toes

I wish it would go away

I hate talkig fuddy

Add havig a doze that’s ruddy

With eyes that water all day

Takig lebod add braddy with huddy

Seebs to be worth the muddy

Better thad pills

With less to pay

So if you have a cold id your head

Take a toddy

Add go to bed

You’ll sood be ready

For work

For play

Add you’ll have do bore cold id your doze

Critique Group

What new and delightful experiences I've had over the past month.  I was introduced to the A-Z Challenge; The Insecure Writer's Support Group (a gem of a find); Blogs aplenty; and after sharing glimpses of my story and receiving so much encouragement from new friends, a lot of anxiety about how to go forward now that my first novel is almost complete.  

I'd really appreciate any help I can get from the Group.  

I previously gave my very rough and incomplete draft to an English teacher to critique but, although he had a few good points which I incorporated, he has never read fantasy; doesn't like the genre and; although he's written numerous contemporary stories, none has been published.  I think he may be the wrong type of critic.

Then, there are my family members.  They read with a jaundiced eye - either positively or negatively.  After all, these people know me and I've had comments like "I don't read fantasy but I can't understand how you can write about those horrors - you're a Christian, you should write something uplifting"; "your bad guy is too bad"; "I need to teach you how to write a novel"; "I didn't read the whole thing but it's great"; "I like it very much".  So - I've decided that asking the opinion of family members is probably also not the best idea.

I should be finished the whole story within the next two or so months - there are perhaps four or five chapters to go.  Do I wait until it's complete before I ask people to critique it?  How do I find the right critics?  What kind of feedback can I expect from them?

Oh Dear!  The list goes on and on...

Zero and other Zeds

Thus arrives Day Zero of the A-Z Challenge.  Thank you so much to all the organisers and to those who kept chivvying us along to complete each day’s blog.  I actually found the zest to write each day as opposed to writing a whole lot of entries and scheduling them.  I will do the same for the next Challenge, God Willing.

Thank you for travelling this journey through my book with me and I do hope you have enjoyed the glimpses of my heroes’ story.  Through the excerpts I’ve shared with you, I’ve taken you to almost the end of Book I, ‘Escape from Mount vilipend’.

At this point, where I and my band of heroes leave you until all is revealed on publication, all I can say is that everything and everyone (and that includes proponents for both sides of the spectrum) remain subject to the zeitgeber principle.  [World Book Dictionary – German – zeitgeber, literally means ‘time giver’:  ‘any time indicator, such as light, dark, or temperature, that influences the workings of the biological clock’]. 

Incidentally, have I left any loose ends?  Let me know what you think. 

Here are some of the aspects which need to be tied up that I can think of off the top of my head.

• Caliginor, the Darkenighte for The Darke, in his mortality, was vanquished by The Lighte.  Was his Darke essence conquered and despatched once more into the Underdarke or does it still linger to cause more trouble?
• It was intimated that Mount Vilipend was destroyed but is this simply wishful thinking on the part of the travellers?
• Mǽgema has disappeared.  Did her crystalline essence simply travel too far from the rest of her essence, still in the tarn in Mount Vilipend, so that she was unable to continue; did her essence disappear when Mount Vilipend disappeared; or is there something more sinister at work?
• We know that Tirǽche was abducted by The Order of The Watchers – a guardian order for The Lighte - but why? 
• What is the ‘pivot’ and ‘crossing’ The Watchers keep speaking about with regard to Tirǽche?
• Sinuthe, the Blade Dragon, the eldest son of Senthe and Suthe, has formed a mind-bond with Shaíne but Blade Dragons form mind-bonds only with their appointed Royals.  Is the mind-bond between these two the unlikely outcome of aeons of living under the rule of The Darke, or is there something else at play?
• Shaíne,  Tirǽche's daughter, was the first of the young girls to disappear from the group.  However, each and every young girl was ‘spirited’ away leaving families devastated by grief.  What has happened to all the girls?
• Are the Fai Berth actually The Watchers and what would make The Order of The Watchers hide as a mortal colony instead of living in The Realm of The Lighte which is their rightful home?
• Has the Pretender to Caliginor’s position been destroyed or is he still going to be around to cause more trouble?
• Who are and what is the purpose of the three Yldryf who attacked Weda’Sel?
• Will they, as a group, continue further together or will they perish because Weda'Sel will not be able to protect them?
• Where is the odour-darzim which needs to be destroyed by Weda’Sel and how will it be possible for Weda’Sel to do so in his weakened state?
• Where is the home to which the group travels and will they, in fact, ever reach it?
• Will all the loose ends be tied together before the end of Book I?

That’s all from me for this Challenge.  It’s been a delight and I am so very happy that I managed to complete it.  I have made so many new friends and found so many wonderful Blogs to enjoy over the next year.

Here’s a final poem to end the A-Z.  One is never too old to work at what one loves and when one does what one loves, it is never work.

OLD HABITS DIE HARD

Old! 

Too old! 

They told me I was too old!

Habits of a career

Embedded within my soul

I

Die a daily death

As I tread the familiar

These

Hard concrete corridors

Of my discounted memories