And when I went through my box of projects finished and almost finished, this is what I found:
One blue cushion cover with bird (unfinished).
One stumpwork of snowdrops (almost finished. See below).
Alex Martin, author of the just released, beautiful story Daffodils (as well as the best seller The Twisted Vine) is one of the bonuses of my writing life. We connected in one of our online writing groups and found we had many interests in common. Just before Easter we decided to get together virtually (because Alex lives in the UK and I’m in Australia) over a cup of tea, and discuss our commonality. This was the wonderful result. I hasten to add it was quite a few cups and even more biscotti whilst we chatted.
Welcome to the Historical Novelists’ Four Day Book Fair
How fantastic to be able to roam from one pavilion to another, all 50+ of them … all just FULL of hist.fict novels from every timeframe one can imagine. Load your kindles, your Nooks, your Kobos, your i-books. Or be a real devil and buy the print version of any novel you see if it’s available.
As the end of the first draft of Gisborne: Book of Knights rapidly approaches, space appears in the mind for new novels. I have three little rooms slowly filling and occasionally, when time permits, I hop on my flying carpet to travel from room to room to investigate the ideas.
Sometimes, even though I’m a writer who should send her readers into the most astonishing worlds of history and fantasy, my blog posts can cover the most banal things.
Thanks to a likeminded blogger, Faux Fuchsia, I was prompted to think on how much I too like ironed goods in my cupboards and drawers.
I belong to a group of kayakers who have been paddling on and off for 10 years. As we reach various ages and various levels of decrepitude, our numbers are shrinking and so last year we decided on a Grand Memorial Kayak once a year at the very least.
In times past, the agricultural show was always tremendously important.
It showcased the region’s produce and provided a grand day out for the locals. Then the meaningful agricultural part of shows faded a little, sideshows almost took over and city entertainment became the be-all and end-all of life. If local shows didn’t die, they limped along in a poor state.
Went away 2 weeks ago on a light aircraft to spend a day in the remote southwest of Tasmania in a world heritage area.
Please understand the term ‘remote’ – 6 days walking to get to civilisation through rugged and dangerous mountains and bushland. Or by boat, sailing in inhospitable waters. And please also understand that I HATE flying and suffer from claustrophobia causing acute anxiety!