Saturday, 11 November 2017

Creating My Odyssey: FUN & INTERESTING! DO & SEE!THIS WAS THE MAGAZ...

Creating My Odyssey:
FUN & INTERESTING!
 DO & SEE!

THIS WAS THE MAGAZ...
: FUN & INTERESTING!  DO & SEE! THIS WAS THE MAGAZINE I FOUND  IT ON THE PLANE GOING TO PRAGUE - INTERESTING ITEMS... http...

FUN & INTERESTING!
 DO & SEE!

THIS WAS THE MAGAZINE
I FOUND  IT ON THE PLANE GOING TO PRAGUE -
INTERESTING ITEMS...
http://www.easyjet.com/en/easyjet-magazine

SOUNDS INTRIGUING

YOUR CHRISTMAS MARKET 
WOULD LOVE TO SEE THIS!
YES!
https://www.ballieballerson.com



Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Monday, 6 November 2017


NOVEL ANGST

Much angst over Alias Jeannie Delaney, my epic, five part novel charting the life of a devastating cowgirl who's the fastest gun in the west and also bisexual. Because it's taking so long to get it out - Husband is dutifully and brilliantly critiquing each chapter - I decided to work on an anthology I've been working on for a while. Shorter. Workable. I have current anecdotal articles  and I think I'm happier with it. But - as Husband maintains - it's all connected with my novel writing and my mental health.

So, more angst today, almost dreading coming to the keyboard in case I become really depressed over either. Husband did his cognitive behavioural therapy thing, which invariably works, bless him. If he makes me cry, we've hit the source of the problem!

Over the years, my mother was less than supportive towards me in many ways, which contributed hugely to my thirty years of depression. Don't get me wrong, I loved both my parents dearly, but she had no idea how to raise an ultra sensitive, creative daughter. She was the 'pull yourself together' sort. My older brother described my dad's approach as benign neglect. He was aware of what was happening, but did nothing about it. However, once, when mother told me over the phone that she 'never took my jobs seriously', my dad ripped her off, telling her that she'd gone too far this time! She did ask for my forgiveness.

To get to the point, years of drip-drip negativity and neglect left me with enormous desires to please the parents. That included desire for approval over my writing, particularly in latter years, my novel. I knew they wouldn't like my subject matter - that's purely subjective - but a simple 'Well done for writing a novel.' would have gone down well, but I was always reticent over talking to them about it. Most of my family have no idea what I've been doing, although my older brother has also been writing a novel, but whether or not he discussed it with the parents, I don't know.

My parents have been gone for around two years now, so no reason for the need for their approval now, and that's what my subconscious needs to realise, because I've had nothing but great responses to it from Facebook and other friends. So - brain - yes, I'm talking to you - enough! You're good. You're fine. Buckle down and finish, dammit! Okay? Okay.

Image result for novelist images copyright free




Sunday, 5 November 2017

Creating My Odyssey: TwoGun TessTwoGun Tess were a very bad gal,Rode...

Creating My Odyssey: TwoGun Tess

TwoGun Tess were a very bad gal,
Rode...
: Two Gun Tess Two Gun Tess were a very bad gal, Rode into town and gave ‘em hell. She spun them irons and hollered: ‘Yee-ha...
Two Gun Tess


Two Gun Tess were a very bad gal,

Rode into town and gave ‘em hell.
She spun them irons and hollered: ‘Yee-ha!’

Thumbusted, gunsmoked near and far.

Spurred her hoss into the saloon,

All them fellahs gobbed at the spittoon.

She slapped down her bits, ordered a beer,

Gave some to her mount and stroked his rear.

Turned to those men, grinned: ‘Whose gun is fast?’

I’ll wager ‘gainst mine no man will last.’

Got off her hoss and looked around,

One boy rose, there was not a sound.

She laughed her head off, slapped her thigh,
You? Don’t make me laugh – you wanna die?’
No problem,’ said he, ‘I’m as good as any.

The men I’ve shot have been so many.’
He wore a bowler, dressed like a dude,

Except for his gun, made ready to feud.
They face one another, legs far apart.

Stood silent and still, he didn’t look smart.
She grinned a grin. He’d never last.

Her hands by each Colt, pondering her past.
His eyes narrowed and so did hers.

All was silent ‘cept the faint jingling of spurs.

He made her shake. Why was that?

A kid with a gun and a bowler hat.
They drew, she was down, flat to the floor,

Hell – this had never happened before.
He blew his smoke, stepped over Tess,

Left the bar, the men yelled: ‘Yes!’

Tess was done for, her guns were too.

The Kid Billy rode out (he had a girl to woo.)

He’d killed twenty and one, same as his years,

Tess made one more, he could boast to his peers.
Two Gun Tess against Billy the Kid?

Now she was gone, out of town he fled.
So it was done, the town could rest,

This is – don’t forget – the ol’ wild west.