tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26639846446458386452024-03-13T03:41:18.481+00:00BLUESTOCKING MUMHow I manage to write between flare-ups and domestic duties.Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-24657010663547714192015-08-11T15:37:00.002+01:002015-08-11T15:40:15.068+01:00I DID IT!<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I'm on <a href="https://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/life-cycle-of-a-writer-theres-no-such-word-as-cant/" target="_blank">The Romaniacs blog today,</a> in </span><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">celebratory mood. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><a href="https://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/life-cycle-of-a-writer-theres-no-such-word-as-cant/" target="_blank">https://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/life-cycle-of-a-writer-theres-no-such-word-as-cant/</a></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">It's taken</span><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> four years and four re-write but my first novel, 'Living in the Past,' (Formerly known as, 'Mother's Love') is finally FINISHED and was posted off to the RNA NWS yesterday! Hurrah! I'm talking about ho</span><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">w tough it has been. But no looking back now. Only forward.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I DID IT! Thank you everyone for all your support and encouragement.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Until another day </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Bye for now</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">xx</span></div>
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<img height="400" src="https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10919047_10153673899173012_6190303089421245482_n.jpg?oh=d5d2e30764b0edaf690c845ec5fba140&oe=563CC3A3" width="300" /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-16193942683872006812015-02-03T16:31:00.001+00:002015-02-03T16:31:19.535+00:00My Battle with Black Crows<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sir Winston Churchill was plagued by the black dog. For me, it's black crows. I'm over on <a href="https://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2015/02/03/life-cycle-of-a-writer-getting-in-the-write-mood-debbie-fuller-white/" target="_blank">T<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">he Romaniacs</span></a> blog with t<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">he next in our, '</span><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Life Cycle of a Writer series,' talking about my continuing battle with getting in the 'write mood.'</span></div>
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Hope to see you there</div>
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xx</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-50553038674315327472014-05-20T18:28:00.001+01:002014-05-20T19:31:08.660+01:00Heard of Behcets disease?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JinJRzjCHXs/U3uWlmFQ_kI/AAAAAAAABh0/el1F55yXy54/s1600/behcets4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JinJRzjCHXs/U3uWlmFQ_kI/AAAAAAAABh0/el1F55yXy54/s320/behcets4.jpg" /></a></div>Not many people have. And so I thought, seeing as today is Behcets Disease Awareness Day, I would share my story in the hope that it might help others, especially anyone who's struggling health wise and looking for a diagnosis...<br />
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I was ten or eleven when I first started with growing pains. Or that was what they told my Nan it was. But when the pain in my knees and legs became so bad that Nan had to push me around in a wheelchair she fought to get me to see an Orthopaedic consultant. He accused Nan, who’d adopted me when I was three, of being neurotic and over protective. When she denied this, he suggested it might be <i>my</i> neurosis – perhaps I was just trying to get attention. Either way, he thought we were both wasting his time. <br />
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Undeterred, Nan didn’t give up and argued with every doctor who would listen, refusing to believe that a young child could suddenly go from being active, enjoying gym, dance and life to being reduced to shuffling up and down stairs on their bottom, screaming in pain when getting in and out of the bath and unable to dress themselves.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aqhLwT7zXwc/U3toNyqyWfI/AAAAAAAABgM/kWd6qCQ8PQc/s1600/23872_10151537654537086_231776258_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aqhLwT7zXwc/U3toNyqyWfI/AAAAAAAABgM/kWd6qCQ8PQc/s200/23872_10151537654537086_231776258_n.jpg" /></a></div>Her tenacity paid off. Another consultant, with a much improved bedside manner and convinced the problem was with my back, tried me on traction for four weeks. It didn’t help but he referred me to a Neurologist. After many tests, between them, they discovered a defect with a disc in my spine. They operated and it improved. At the time there was nothing to suggest there may be an underlying condition. It was thought the operation had been a success. I was discharged and didn’t have any further leg or back problems for many years. Oh, there were many other symptoms over the years but nothing to link them and it's only now as I write this I see the connection and realise those early problems were the beginning. <br />
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Many teenagers develop Glandular Fever. It’s debilitating and can take months to recover so when I got it and around the same time started with clusters of severe mouth ulcers, we thought it was connected. A few months later, a new problem developed. On first appearances it looked like flea bites on my shins but they felt hot to the touch and hurt like bruises. Some grew so big it felt as if a horse had kicked me. A couple of years on, I woke one morning with the most terrible pain in my right elbow. Because I’d dislocated it when I was eight we presumed it was rheumatism but the pain was excruciating, almost as if it <i>was</i> dislocated and didn’t sit correctly in the socket so when I could bear it no longer, I went to the doctors. <br />
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He did some blood tests but they came back normal. However, he started to link the joint pain and the erythema nodosum (the lumps on my legs) together and sent me for a chest X-Ray to eliminate Sarcoidosis. It was clear. The lumps and mouth ulcers continued, along with the joint pain which had moved from my elbow and started flitting to various parts of my body. After continuous tests the GP drew a blank and said he couldn’t find anything wrong with me.<br />
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By the age of nineteen I should have been having the time of my life. I lived for Friday nights, to go to Cinderella Rockerfellas and Madisons in Leeds with my friends but by then the joint pain was becoming more frequent and when it flared, I found the pain so unbearable, I would cry myself to sleep at night. Yet to look at me, nothing seemed wrong. No redness. No swelling or hot joints. Normal blood tests. By the time I was in my early twenties the GP's had done everything in the way of tests and I’d tried many of the standard anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAID’s) and painkillers. Nothing helped. Even I started to wonder if it was all in my head.<br />
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Somewhere in the middle of all this I met and married my ex-husband and developed a promising career with Lloyds Bank. Life was good for a couple of years. And something even better happened when I got pregnant; all my symptoms – the ulcers, joint pain, lumps on legs - everything disappeared.<br />
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The euphoria was short lived. Within three months of having my first son, the symptoms came back with a vengeance. At last, with a different GP, I saw a Rheumatologist. He found my symptoms baffling too. He had heard of many cases of symptoms going into remission when women got pregnant and started to wonder whether my problems were hormonally linked. Or whether it was some form of arthritis. Or maybe Lupus or some other auto-immune disease.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h7jiaoFDx-8/U3t4oRJCDgI/AAAAAAAABhQ/UVL40kkm6tA/s1600/imagesICSQ3OBR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h7jiaoFDx-8/U3t4oRJCDgI/AAAAAAAABhQ/UVL40kkm6tA/s200/imagesICSQ3OBR.jpg" /></a></div>As my symptoms worsened and he resorted to drawing fluid off my knees and injecting my joints with steroids and cortisone, the only thing that kept me going, as well as my family, was the reassurance of that Rheumatologist, and knowing I wasn’t going mad. At last, I’d found someone who believed me. <br />
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The effects of the injections were remarkable. My Consultant and GP prescribed a mixture of NSAID’s and prednisolone (Steroids) and for the first time in years I could dance. We went on a couple of wonderful holidays. I progressed in my job and had three promotions in two years. Whatever had been wrong with me, I was cured! <br />
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That was, until my son became seriously ill. Whether it was the stress or co-incidence, I don’t know, but my condition deteriorated rapidly. For a couple of years thereafter, my symptoms were out of control. Higher and higher doses of prednisolone were needed to get on top of my symptoms. But as I developed painful nodules around my joints and my eye sockets, even 60mgs of steroids didn’t help. With every new flare up, it seemed the pain worsened until it became all-consuming. I had to change my car to an automatic as I could barely drive. My ex-husband had to lift me in and out of bed, fetch painkillers in the night and help bath me and wash my hair. He made me a makeshift frame for the bed as I couldn’t even bear the weight of the bedclothes on my legs and feet. Looking back, I remember one day - it was ridiculous – I had injections in both feet then went to work afterwards for some meeting or other. I remember him saying he couldn’t keep ‘patching me up’ like this. But I couldn’t give in. Desperation and sheer determination were all that kept me going. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2j534zJY94/U3tolS6T6II/AAAAAAAABgU/WYeF1bDTImY/s1600/behcets2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K2j534zJY94/U3tolS6T6II/AAAAAAAABgU/WYeF1bDTImY/s200/behcets2.png" /></a></div>In the midst of this misery, by chance one day my usual GP was on holiday and I saw a new one who had an interest in Rheumatology. She had worked with a leading authority in Rheumatology at the leading <a href="http://www.rjah.nhs.uk/">Royal Orthopaedic Hospital, Oswestry</a> and suggested he might help. I paid for a private consultation and met him two days later.<br />
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I’m a big believer in things happening for a reason. For the first time in my life I knew as soon as I met him that I had found someone who I could truly talk to and who understood my problems. He didn’t profess to have the answers. Whatever I had was complicated. My symptoms weren't typical of any of the obvious rheumatic ailments. He weighed up my symptoms and how I presented; the mouth ulcers, the erythema nodosum on my legs which was now attacking my joints and the severe joint pain but he was puzzled because other than an occasional bout of stomach ache, there didn’t appear to be any significant bowel problems and also, whilst I had mouth ulcers, I hadn’t had any vaginal ulcers. If I'd had these, he thought he could definitely say it was Behcets disease.<br />
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I was thirty-two years old and it was the first time, after <b>twenty years of problems,</b> anyone had mentioned the words, <a href="http://www.vasculitis.org.uk/about-vasculitis/behcets-disease"><b>‘Behcets Disease.’</b></a><br />
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***<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ec5FOT6FAOU/U3t5b8fDrQI/AAAAAAAABhY/JuccjZwG3Os/s1600/behcets5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ec5FOT6FAOU/U3t5b8fDrQI/AAAAAAAABhY/JuccjZwG3Os/s320/behcets5.jpg" /></a></div>It’s almost fifteen years ago that I found my lovely Consultant Rheumatologist. Since then, he’s seen the best and very worst of me. The toughest times were the year I spent ten weeks in the <a href="http://www.rjah.nhs.uk/">RJAH</a> with <a href="http://www.niams.nih.gov/health_info/osteonecrosis/">Avascular Necrosis</a> of my left hip and subsequent surgery. As a result, I had to retire from my job in the bank, aged only thirty-two. Then following a miscarriage and subsequent surgery, I stayed in for a week with acute diarrhoea stomach pain and profuse bleeding. At first they thought they had perforated my bowel in the procedure but I’ve had flare ups of ulcerative colitis ever since. And vaginal ulcers. I get regular crops of them now along with everything else. <br />
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For my Rheumatologist, this was the last piece of the jigsaw. The onset of colitis and genital ulcers convinced him this must be Behcets. Life continued with a weekly cocktail of Methotrexate, Sulphasalazine, Celecoxib and analgaesics, alongside intermittent injections in whatever joint flared and things were as good as they could be until 2009. That was when I started with jaw problems. A year later, following a first bout of surgery, I had bilateral Total <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/progress.html">Jaw replacement surgery</a> in October 2010. It turned out to be <a href="http://www.niams.nih.gov/health_info/osteonecrosis/">Avascular Necrosis</a> in both jaws.<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4Rrw-fK0Do/U3tyAhHkhtI/AAAAAAAABgg/nS_z7FrkXkQ/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C4Rrw-fK0Do/U3tyAhHkhtI/AAAAAAAABgg/nS_z7FrkXkQ/s200/1.jpg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l0R9QNIkWRQ/U3tyEY0FQKI/AAAAAAAABgo/oew43vm-jpU/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l0R9QNIkWRQ/U3tyEY0FQKI/AAAAAAAABgo/oew43vm-jpU/s200/3.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JWeBbcHMmFM/U3tyIaR7RuI/AAAAAAAABgw/PaTuI93PU9A/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JWeBbcHMmFM/U3tyIaR7RuI/AAAAAAAABgw/PaTuI93PU9A/s200/2.jpg" /></a>It was tough, really tough, but following the surgery, I felt I had my life back and the nine hours of surgery and months of rehabilitation had been worth it. <br />
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But here’s the rub. You see the thing with Behcets; just when you think you’ve turned a corner, or believe things are looking up, something else happens, and BANG! - it smack's you round the chops – and before you know it, there’s something new to deal with. Some other battle to fight. Over the last year my condition has deteriorated again. Last October I did a swim challenge for Arthritis Care with my son and raised £730. Yet now, I wouldn't be able to get in and out of the pool, let alone swim, the pain is so severe in both shoulders, my chest and neck. Hip and feet pain means I presently need a stick to help mobilise. Oh, yes, and my jaws are failing. The pain is back – not quite as severe as it was before my replacements but it's worsening and my mouth opening is down to just over a centimetre. The worry is, the Avascular Necrosis may be spreading further in my jaw/skull. <br />
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There’s no such thing as a good day. There are no long periods of remission as there used to be thirty-five years ago. Since last July the flare-ups of ulcerative colitis and the vaginal ulcers have been much worse. Sorry, we British don’t like to mention the word, 'bowel,' do we? Or think about vaginal ulcers. But please imagine the scenario I faced a few weeks ago when everything was flaring and I couldn’t dash upstairs to the toilet quickly enough. How, with the pain in my shoulders and hands, I struggled to pull my trousers down and couldn’t clean myself and found it difficult to even get into the bath to shower. Sorry to be so graphic. But people don’t see that. No-one can truly understand unless they have Behcets disease or some other chronic auto-immune condition and live with the range of symptoms day in, day out.<br />
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But I'm lucky. Following these recent problems my Consultant referred me to the new <a href="http://www.behcets.nhs.uk/">Behcets Centre of Excellence in Birmingham.</a> Wow, what a set up. Anyone with even the slightest mention of the diagnosis, Behcets Disease, <i>please</i> insist on obtaining a referral from your GP or Rheumatologist. There are only three in the country. It’s a wonderful facility. I saw four different Consultants in one day along with two specialist nurses. And I'm pleased to say, <b>thirty-five years </b>on I have (she says, almost crying at the emotion of it all) a definite diagnosis of Bechets Disease. My Rheumatologist was right. And I wasn’t neurotic after all.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5QLPH8AhPtY/U3uPajMXmeI/AAAAAAAABho/zTjdw_Y66dg/s1600/untitled1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5QLPH8AhPtY/U3uPajMXmeI/AAAAAAAABho/zTjdw_Y66dg/s320/untitled1.png" /></a></div>The plan is to start a clinical trial of anti-TNF medication - probably intravenous Infliximab - every six weeks for a year to try and 'dampen’ the Behcets and reduce the need for more joint replacements. However we can’t go ahead with that until I find out if it’s Avascular Necrosis in my shoulders and whether they need replacing or if my jaws require more surgery. The MRI is booked for a couple of weeks so hopefully, I’ll soon know.<br />
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I’m forty-seven years old now. Some days I feel like an eighty-seven year old. When you live with a chronic condition the future is always uncertain so I’ve learnt it’s no good looking too far into the future or trying to plan too far ahead. Tomorrow I should have been going on holiday to Italy but had to cancel due to my health. Hey, remember what I said about hindsight? If I’m honest, it was always a little ambitious. <br />
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Perhaps for the first time in many years I’ve learned to ‘embrace’ my condition. I have a lodger – Behcets disease – I can’t change it. I can only accept it and try to manage the best I can. Oh yes, and stop being so proud and accept my limitations! People don’t see pain. You look alright. You try to smile through the pain. What’s the good in moaning? No-one likes a moaner. So you get on with it. What else can you do? <br />
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One thing for sure, anyone out there with Behcets disease or any other similar chronic auto-immune condition, don’t give in. And if you're looking for diagnosis, don't take no for an answer. Take it from one who knows. Stay strong if you're suffering. Be kind to yourself and try to find others in the same situation. There are plenty of on-line forums and support groups for various ailments and diseases. And for those of you with Behcets, Arthritis or suffering from chronic pain, I'm always here. You are not alone...<br />
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Until another day<br />
xx<br />
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ps - I've given as much information here and detailed as many links as I could but if you need any further info or contacts, feel free to ask. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-83891451820593733582014-02-17T10:29:00.000+00:002014-02-17T10:29:36.464+00:00Woohoo, welcome, Catherine Miller!Shhh… while her twin baby girls are having a nap, new mummy, <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4akDX2gkZzA/UvuQendN_HI/AAAAAAAABbI/o9y7L_aPXpM/s1600/IMG_0188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4akDX2gkZzA/UvuQendN_HI/AAAAAAAABbI/o9y7L_aPXpM/s320/IMG_0188.jpg" /></a></div>Catherine Miller, AKA Katy Little Lady and one eighth of my lovely Romaniacs Group is making the most of a few moments to herself. She's going to have a little well-deserved time out and some tea and cake so why don’t you join us?<br />
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Catherine, thank you for not joining the twins and catching up on your own sleep! (I knew the lemon drizzle cake would work) It’s good to see you here. We’ve met in quite a few places and chat most days in cyber space but never interviewed each other. Let’s start at the beginning with how you started writing …<br />
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<b>Where did your interest in writing come from and what inspired you to start writing?</b><br />
I've loved it since my teen years. I was an avid reader and started my first novel attempt at about age 14. I also wrote terrible poems at that age.<br />
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<b>What (or who) brought you to the RNA and the NWS?</b><br />
I joined a local writing group - Southampton Writing Buddies - and the founder of the group, Penny Legg, told me about the RNA NWS and encouraged me to join. I'm very glad she did.<br />
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<b>I never have enough time in the day and I don’t have twin baby girls. How on earth do you manage to brush your hair and teeth in a day, let alone manage any writing?</b><br />
I've become the queen of multi-tasking! I don't think there are many times in the day when I'm doing only one thing. I've found returning to pen and paper a great way to write. When I find myself with a spare few minutes I scribble and type up in the evenings when I have the energy.<br />
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<b>In the Romaniacs anthology, ‘Shorts,’ I really enjoyed, ’Flights of Fancy.’ Where did you get the idea? </b><br />
It's based on a real shop nearby. The shop is vacant and one day I noticed there were only pigeons on that one roof, none of the other shops. I instantly thought there was a story in it. <br />
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<b>How do you find writing shorts as opposed to a novel?</b><br />
Some ideas don't have the legs to be a novel so I try and turn them into short stories. I think I'm stronger at novels, although have less of them published at the moment!<br />
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<b>The Romaniacs are donating half the money raised from their, 'Shorts Anthology' to go to the Dyslexia Institute. I know it’s a cause close to your heart as I understand you have Dyslexia. When did you discover you were dyslexic?</b><br />
I was diagnosed when I was young. It was classed as brain damage associated dyslexia caused by a complicated breech delivery when I was born. Thankfully there were no other problems. <br />
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<b>Can you give us an insight into the kind of difficulties writing poses to you?</b><br />
I had excellent one on one teaching when I was young which helped me overcome most of my problems. I was taught everything by sound so these days words that are similar in sound cause the most difficulty. Things like brought/bought, except/accept. The more I write, the more aware I've become of the things that trip me up.<br />
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<b>Well, there are several famous writers with dyslexia such as F. Scott Fitzgerald, Agatha Christie and Lynda La Plante so you’re in good company. It didn’t stop them and I’m sure it won’t affect you in achieving your writing goals. What advice do you have for a wannabe writer who may have dyslexia or another learning difficulty?</b><br />
I'd say go with my motto: Nothing is easy, everything is possible. I think the things that are most worthwhile are the things you work hardest for. <br />
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<b>Since Baby Number Two was shortlisted for the Festival of Romance New Talent Award in 2013, what have you done with it?</b><br />
Not as much as I'd like given the amount of time the twins need but I think cuddles are more important for now. I hope to complete the full first draft this year and have started making headway. <br />
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<b>Aside from a good night’s sleep, what would you most desire/want at this moment in time?</b><br />
My life is pretty complete at the moment. The only thing that would really be the icing in the cake would be to get an agent/publishing contract by the end of the year. Any year. I'm not specifying which one ;) <br />
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Well, somehow I see that happening sooner rather than later. It's been lovely to spend a few moments with you, my lovely friend. I wish you well with all your writing, and that you might get a good nights sleep before too long.<br />
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You can follow Catherine on her blog <a href="http://blog.katylittlelady.com">HERE</a> and read her stories in the Romaniacs Anthology, 'Romaniac Shorts,' available to download as an e-book from Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Romaniac-Shorts-Fashionably-Celia-Anderson-ebook/dp/B00I9CAS62/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_Q4YN">HERE</a> for just £1.00! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8ml8TaTZqg/UvuQEV-KNjI/AAAAAAAABbA/IO93BfO-PFA/s1600/969095_10202836845217726_1890243343_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8ml8TaTZqg/UvuQEV-KNjI/AAAAAAAABbA/IO93BfO-PFA/s320/969095_10202836845217726_1890243343_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Until another day<br />
xx <br />
Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-78292291643473390722014-02-15T08:55:00.000+00:002014-02-15T08:55:15.633+00:00Bluestocking Mum - Published Author!No, you’re not seeing things. I’ve dusted off the knick-knacks, removed the dust sheet from my sofa and desk and shaken the cobwebs off this poor neglected blog. And what’s brought about this phenomenon I hear you ask? Well, in case you haven’t heard, I’m celebrating becoming a published author! Yes, you heard right. To mark the two year anniversary of our <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">blog,</a> those splendiferous Romaniac girls and I have put together an anthology of short stories and flash fictions, aptly named,‘Romaniac Shorts.’ <br />
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For anyone who hasn’t heard of <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs</a> we are a … errm … how do I describe us? … a once seen, never forgotten bunch of writers and members of the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/">Romantic Novelist's Association New Writers Scheme</a> We met at the Festival of Romance and RNA Winter party in 2011 and instantly clicked. As individually different as a tin of Quality Street, common values and goals have united us and helped create our tight bond and unit. We laugh together, we cry together, but most of all we support one another and are even known to kick each others butts if the need arises! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x4Xku4YKVFc/UvirOKm1zAI/AAAAAAAABaU/o3azNkii2Sg/s1600/tinqualstreet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x4Xku4YKVFc/UvirOKm1zAI/AAAAAAAABaU/o3azNkii2Sg/s200/tinqualstreet2.jpg" /></a></div>Several of our group are now published authors in their own right and have found agent representation so it shows the ‘power of eight,’ and that anything can happen if you believe, work hard and never give in. Dreams can come true. <br />
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Thanks to the girls I’m still plugging away with the novel and my non-fiction book proposals and until such time as I secure myself an agent and publication, I’m thrilled to be able to see two of my stories published in Romaniac Shorts. So, why not grab yourself a cuppa and a couple of digestive biscuits? Or cake(We Romaniacs are rather partial to cake)Take an hour or two out to pick and mix your way through the range of different styles, viewpoints and moods that reflect our inimitable characters. Laugh and cry with us. And help us raise money for two good causes close to our hearts. We're pleased to tell you that ALL money raised will be shared between <a href="http://dyslexiaaction.org.uk/">Dyslexia Action</a> and the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/join/new_writers_scheme">RNA’s New Writers’ Scheme fund</a>. If you'd like to support us and download our E-book for just £1.00, click <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Romaniac-Shorts-Fashionably-Celia-Anderson-ebook/dp/B00I9CAS62/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1_Q4YN">HERE</a> for the Amazon link. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWHrmJa4Xqg/Uvz6eFA8-pI/AAAAAAAABb0/s9_orGwtkEE/s1600/969095_10202836845217726_1890243343_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWHrmJa4Xqg/Uvz6eFA8-pI/AAAAAAAABb0/s9_orGwtkEE/s200/969095_10202836845217726_1890243343_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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In the meantime, I’ll be back again in a few days when one of my lovely Romaniac friends,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLorDutuj5I/UvipEjdYp6I/AAAAAAAABZ4/nMhyIwGGnuQ/s1600/greenqualitystreet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLorDutuj5I/UvipEjdYp6I/AAAAAAAABZ4/nMhyIwGGnuQ/s320/greenqualitystreet.jpg" /></a></div>Catherine Miller, AKA Katy Little Lady will be joining me here on the sofa. <br />
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Until another day <br />
xx<br />
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Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-68783807261520280022014-02-13T16:46:00.000+00:002014-02-13T16:46:40.395+00:00I'm Celebrating!See why over on <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">the Romaniacs blog</a>.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9uYset5UG98/Uvz2jqAb1SI/AAAAAAAABbo/F2FpISswrRI/s1600/the-roms-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9uYset5UG98/Uvz2jqAb1SI/AAAAAAAABbo/F2FpISswrRI/s200/the-roms-logo.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I'll be back here tomorrow with more details.<br />
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Until then<br />
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xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-28288146582654610062012-12-12T13:01:00.001+00:002012-12-12T13:14:59.087+00:00The Next Big ThingYes, I have blogged! <br />
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And we can thank lovely Irish writer, <a href="http://www.writernomad.blogspot.com">Johanna Leahy</a> for this auspicious occurrence as she’s nominated me for ‘The Next Big Thing,’ a blogosphere initiative where bloggers reach out to new readers, introduce you to some of their favourite writers and reveal a bit about their own writing before passing on the baton again… You get the gist? <br />
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In her own words, Johanna describes herself as a <i>"Serial-expat, ambitious writer, living in Kuala Lumpur with 3 kids, 4 guinea pigs, and a Danish husband. Obviously not in order of importance."</i> She's currently working on her second novel, “The Stolen Child”, a story set in two time periods – the 1960s and contemporary Ireland. It's about a young woman forced into a Mother & Baby Home to have her baby, the child ultimately taken against her will to be adopted in the US. Forty years later, her son, whom she has kept a secret, turns up on her doorstep. His appearance has far-reaching consequences for the two sisters who didn't know he existed and for their mother who has never recovered from losing him. It sounds just my cup of tea! <br />
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Johanna also invited our mutual friend, <a href="http://www.thesistersofgin.com/">Sharon Naylor</a> (talented writer and very funny blog alert) <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.co.uk/2008/11/meet-totleigh-16_7677.html">whom we met on an Arvon course</a> a few years ago so we're blogging alongside each other today. Sharon is working on her debut novel, Legal Ade, the story of Adrian Pritchard, a hapless man who has long suspected that life as he knows it might well be over. He is overweight and hypertensive, the family business is teetering towards bankruptcy and his wife has run off with a biker. After a disastrous break at a French spa he forms an uneasy alliance with two women. Carol and Angie are temporary exiles from a tough London estate. They have many secrets, not least those large men with violent tendencies on their tail. After being mistaken for their accomplice Adrian is forced into events he doesn’t understand, and it all seems to hinge on exactly who and where is the mysterious “Frank”. As the differences and similarities between he and his companions emerge, Adrian realises with dread that it might be up to him to save the day. But he`s not sure he`s up to it… <br />
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And so now on to my questions:<br />
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<b>What is the working title of your book?</b><br />
Ahh, straight away I’m smiling. This novel started off as ‘Living in the Past’ but following a couple of adverse comments about the title I changed it to ‘Mothers Love.’ However, this year I sent it on the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/index.php/join/new_writers_scheme">Romantic Novelist's Association New Writers Scheme</a> and my wonderful reader said it wasn’t strong enough. It needed to convey the long-held family secrets and maybe have the word, ‘past’ in it. So guess what? Yep. ‘Living in the Past’ is back. It just shows you should trust your gut instincts, although don’t be too surprised if an agent or publisher changes the title anyway ;-)<br />
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<b>Where did the idea come from for the book?</b><br />
Can you believe, Nicky Campbell! I’ve always been fascinated by people and their lives; where they’ve come from, what shaped them, and the paths they have taken. Having a very complicated family set up and past myself.(For more see <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/mothers-love.html">THIS blog.</a>)I’ve enjoyed watching the series ‘Long Lost Families,’ hearing the tales of how families are torn apart and how sometimes people keep secrets from even those close to them to protect them, and themselves. And I’ve always wanted to write a ‘gritty’ novel. I adore the writing of the ‘Angry Young Men’ – the likes of Stan Barstow, Allan Sillitoe, Nell Dunn etc and anything that resembles kitchen sink dramas, and so the two aspects gelled together well.<br />
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<b>What genre does your book fall under?</b><br />
Commercial Women’s Fiction. A section of the book is a war-time romance but it definitely isn’t romantic fiction. It has the theme of love running throughout but it’s about many kinds of love; the love between mother, daughter, father, lover and the nature of truth and the fierce drive to love. I’d like to position it as a Book Club read. <br />
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<b>Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?</b><br />
I’m afraid I don’t see Hollywood actors in any of the roles. My main character would be easy to cast if the wonderful Dame Thora Hurd were still alive. I can hear her voice narrating the story of the old lady as she lies in a hospital bed looking back over her life but Maureen Lipman would be my second choice. The ‘young' Maggie just wouldn’t work with Anne Hathaway’s version of a Yorkshire accent (sorry – I loved her in ‘One Day’ but the Yorkshire accent was none existent) so I’d want authentic, spirited, feisty Yorkshire characters like Helen Baxendale for the lead and seeing as her husband, 'Bertie,’ is from Sheffield I reckon Sean Bean would be perfect. Well, any excuse for a photo.<br />
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<b>What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?</b><br />
Living in the Past is a love story but it’s also a human story about how families can sometimes hide the biggest secrets from each other; the lies they tell to protect others and themselves and how secrets, however well intentioned, bring only pain but how forgiveness transcends all hurts.<br />
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<b>How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?</b><br />
Three months. Trouble is that was three years ago and since then it’s had three further re-writes and I’ve ground to a halt over the last eighteen months since I’ve been crippled by writer’s block. <br />
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<b>What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?</b><br />
Hmm. I’m not sure. I would like to think if you like Louise Voss or Elizabeth Bucan, you’d like this but in all honesty, I think the reason this novel is different is because I’ve found my writer’s ‘voice’ and simply written the kind of book I enjoy to read. So I’d probably best let the reader decide. <br />
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Easy. My Nan - the most formidable, difficult, but kindest, biggest-hearted lady you could imagine. Oh yes, and a very complicated past. Also I spent my formative years in Pudsey, Leeds, so everything about the novel lends itself to a Yorkshire setting – wartime, life in a small town, textile mills, back to back terracing, and Yorkshire people and how they call a spade a spade. <br />
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<b>What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?</b><br />
Nostalgia. Life in the Second World War. Growing up in the sixties and seventies. Yorkshire folk. And making you think about people and what makes them do some of the things they do.<br />
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<b>When and how will it be published?</b><br />
One day. I hope. I’m fortunate to be over the first big hurdle and already have an agent waiting to see the finished MS. How lucky am I? I met Jane Judd <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/we-interrupt-this-blog-with.html">when I came second at the Festival of Romance Convention New Talent Award </a>in 2011 but as I mentioned earlier, since around that time, writer’s block has hindered progress due to personal circumstances. <br />
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Well, I think that completes my questions. Sincere thanks again to <a href="http://www.writernomad.blogspot.com">Johanna</a> for enabling me to talk about Living in the Past. It’s a rather special novel and I still get a huge buzz writing about it so the hunger isn’t lost to see it through to fruition once my head has cleared. And to <a href="http://www.thesistersofgin.com/">Sharon</a> for keeping me company today (and sometimes in the wee small hours on Facebook!)<br />
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In the meantime I’ll keep working on my other novels and non-fiction ideas but for now, pass the baton to my chosen writers who all have the potential to be 'The Next Big Thing. We are all sisters in words. And so it goes...<br />
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Check out their blogs and watch out for their ‘Next Big Thing posts:’<br />
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Where to start with fellow <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">Romaniac, </a><a href="http://www.lauraejames.co.uk/">Laura E James?</a> Rock. Kindred Spirit. Dear friend(even when she gives me a kick up the butt!) Laura is knocking on the door of publication and I don't think she'll be long until it opens. <br />
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Next is the gorgeous <a href="http://nikkigoodman.wordpress.com/">Nikki Goodman,</a> a fellow member of the Romantic Novelist's Association New Writer's Scheme who I've become friends with and is an extremely talented writer. Oh yes, and we share a mutual love of wine too!<br />
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And last but by no means least is a cyber friend who I haven't yet had the pleasure to meet - <a href="http://www.flowerpotdays.blogspot.co.uk/">Sue Jackson.</a> Sue's a writer and journalist and has written several novels which she is seeking representation of. However her latest novel, FOUR LEFT FEET was awarded Highly Commended in the New Talent Award at the Festival of Romance in November 2012 and is currently being read by a literary agent so she really could be The Next Big Thing!<br />
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Until another day<br />
Bye for now<br />
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-83614947704093826332012-10-17T13:37:00.001+01:002012-10-17T13:50:31.188+01:00Through the Wilderness II - Life as a singletonI know there’s no need to make excuses for my sporadic blogs but it’s hard being a single parent, trying to juggle everything, especially with my health limitations.<br />
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The best way to describe life is domestic chaos, although that hasn’t changed much from when the ex was here as he spent all week in London and I had it all to do then. But in addition to the housework, washing, ironing, mum's taxi duties etc, these days there's also house and car maintenance, re-cycling trips to the tip, lawns, hedge cutting, getting the wood in etc, and I’ve yet to master how to put up a curtain pole!<br />
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Having main parental custody of my sons I confess there are times when I crave to sleep for a hundred years or run away – perhaps to somewhere spiritual like India. Of course I can’t. This is my lot and I wouldn’t have it any other way.<br />
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And it’s only as I write this I see the progress over these last eighteen months. I no longer play sad songs or go through old photos, crying and wailing. In fact, I’ve found it helps not to look back too much. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I’ve learnt from the experience but refuse to dwell. Feeling sorry for myself or being bitter won’t help. Living in the past is corrosive and every minute spent picking at the scabs of old wounds is time wasted on ME and my life and plans, and moving forward.<br />
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There are no regrets that I gave my ex his first chance six or seven years ago when he had his first affair. I have no anger or bitterness towards him or his girlfriend. Any tears I shed are not over him. Best of all I feel free; happier than I have for some time that I no longer have to look over my shoulder or play second best. There’s no more feeling insecure or as if I’m going mad. I see the positives - I’m in charge of the remote control, can keep the electric blanket on all night if I wish and eat what I like when I like. My ex wouldn’t let me have a second dog so guess what I did when he left? <br />
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Yep, I got a second dog, courtesy of my dear friend, <a href="http://snailbeachsheep.blogspot.co.uk/">Snailbeach Shepherdess</a>,and he’s the best thing we've done. Meet 'BRUNO'...<br />
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Perhaps it’s the indecent amounts of red wine I still consume (some things never change) but I don’t seem to beat myself up anywhere near as much as I used to. I accept I’m only human, even though on occasions I’ll put my knickers on over my tights and don a Wonder Woman top! The house isn’t a show home. The lawns may not be perfectly coiffed like they were in the ex’s day. I might not be a good mother but I’m good enough. I do my best. <br />
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I manage my days by keeping busy and focused. I have personal goals - something to work toward and to look forward to. <i>Just for me.</i> You might have seen the challenge for World Arthritis Day I just completed (click on the Arthritis Care avatar at the top of page for details.) After all, a dream is just a wish without a plan. Most of my goals concern being published, especially the hope that one day when my novel makes it through the slush piles, the first thing I’ll do is hire myself a gardener and I'll force him to work so hard, he'll need to take his top off ;-) <br />
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Anyone reading this, facing the same predicament I found myself in eighteen months ago, please be reassured, it does get better. It’s not always easy manoeuvring the path of the singleton but if you stay strong and determined (and maintain your sense of humour,)and take every experience as a lesson from which you can learn, you will get there. As I’ve said before, the best revenge in life is to live well. Do the best you can. Be a fighter. You <i>can</i> survive. And you <i>will</i> come through this all the better, wiser and stronger. I promise.<br />
<br />
Until another day<br />
<br />
xx<br />
<br />
Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-47563460573497003922012-09-13T12:09:00.000+01:002012-09-13T12:09:01.498+01:00Through the wilderness - part oneI know. I know. I haven't posted a blog for so long.<br />
<br />
Guilty. But I also know you'll forgive me... <br />
<br />
At last, almost eighteen months on, I think I'm getting there. I actually catch glimmers of the girl I used to be... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KtXISm42wfk/UFG9CK5nBVI/AAAAAAAABTw/OVDJ7U26NQs/s1600/debspinacoladagirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="286" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KtXISm42wfk/UFG9CK5nBVI/AAAAAAAABTw/OVDJ7U26NQs/s320/debspinacoladagirl.jpg" /></a></div>I knew she was there. Somewhere.<br />
<br />
<br />
Next week I'll do a post about the trials and tribulations of being a singleton again after twenty-two years, how I'm faring and pushing onwards and upwards. But today, I've posted over on <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2012/09/13/through-the-wilderness/">the Romaniacs blog </a> All about how I'm progressing through the wilderness with my writing and managing to battle the writer's block that's crippled me for these last months...<br />
<br />
See you again very soon<br />
Until another day (next week) <br />
Bye for now<br />
<br />
xx<br />
<br />
ps - click on the highlighted Romaniacs word in the text or the gravatar on the side bar to visit the Romaniacs!<br />
Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-59104547301305265612012-06-29T08:00:00.000+01:002012-06-29T11:20:49.123+01:00Finding 'myself' on-line datingI've given myself one hundred lines as punishment for neglecting my blog:<br />
<br />
I promise to write a blog soon. Life has rather got in the way but I'm getting there.<br />
<br />
I promise to write a blog soon. Life has rather got in the way but I'm getting there.<br />
<br />
I promise to write a blog soon. Life has rather got in the way but I'm getting there...<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm sorry. I will write a blog soon. I know you understand. <br />
In the meantime, I've managed one over on <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs Blog </a> telling all about my experiences of on-line dating! <br />
<br />
Why not grab yourself a cuppa and come over and see us. It <i>is </i>Friday after all, and the chocolate digestives will be waiting, if my Romaniac buddies haven't got to them first!<br />
<br />
<br />
Until another day<br />
Bye for now<br />
<br />
xx<br />
<br />
(click the link above or the Romaniacs gravatar on the side bar to head over...)<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9-4GWsvOkUs/T-1NyLorSPI/AAAAAAAABTY/0PytabhSixI/s1600/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9-4GWsvOkUs/T-1NyLorSPI/AAAAAAAABTY/0PytabhSixI/s320/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</a>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-37254568849386074002012-03-30T08:29:00.000+01:002012-03-30T08:29:16.634+01:00Dear Writers. Can you Help?It appears I’m suffering a huge dose of writers block.<br />
Any advice or inspiration you could give would be most welcome over at <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs Blog </a><br />
<a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/"></a>(Either follow this link or click on the Romaniac avatar on the right.)<br />
<br />
Thank you!<br />
<br />
Until another day<br />
<br />
Bye for now<br />
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-63772544874846432332012-03-17T19:06:00.000+00:002012-03-18T11:01:44.064+00:00Mother's LoveThey say truth is stranger than fiction. If I wrote the novel of my life, no one would believe it. <br />
<br />
About ten years ago, I had a letter out of the blue from two sisters which threw me into emotional turmoil. They had discovered from my mum that I existed and were desperate to let me know they cared and wanted to keep in touch. They went to extraordinary lengths to track me down. <br />
<br />
However for me, pursuing contact with them meant considering a relationship with my mum and, at the time, Nan was still alive and it didn’t feel right. I didn’t bear my mum any malice. I knew she must have had her reasons for giving me up, but I had my own family and didn’t want my happy, secure life unsettled. Eventually I decided it was best not to open any ‘cans of worms’ and chose to leave the door on the past firmly closed, and turned my back on them all.<br />
<br />
Nan brought me up from the age of two as neither my mum nor dad wanted me. Or that was what I was led to believe for forty years anyway. It wasn’t until Nan died eight years later and I saw my dad for the first time since I was a teenager, that I discovered things were not quite as I’d thought… <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uh4cbGw44qY/T2SyxHPhkII/AAAAAAAABSQ/viuoaIaSz1U/s1600/debchildhood%2B009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uh4cbGw44qY/T2SyxHPhkII/AAAAAAAABSQ/viuoaIaSz1U/s320/debchildhood%2B009.JPG" /></a></div>Mum gave me up because they’d split up and she was very young, and couldn’t cope. She thought I’d have a better life with Nan. And something else I didn’t know was that a couple of years later, when my mum wanted me back, a big custody battle started which made Kramer versus Kramer look like a walk in the park! Both my mum and her new partner, my dad and his new wife all went to court to fight for custody. In the end Nan won and legally adopted me. After that, she stopped my mum's visits as she thought it unsettled me. A few years later, Nan told my Dad I didn’t want anything to do with him, and that we were moving away to Leeds.<br />
<br />
Hearing these revelations from my dad were devastating. All those wasted years. All that time of thinking my parents didn’t want me. But it was my sisters I couldn’t stop thinking about...<br />
<br />
I'd always known about them. When I was about nine years old I remember visiting my other Nanny and Granddad and my mum being there with a toddler and a baby in a carry-cot. She hugged me to her and cried and cried, and I wondered why she had given me away yet she’d had two more daughters. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8AemKkqS8SQ/T2SzNmAaO1I/AAAAAAAABSc/2jV31NUJ0Zw/s1600/debchildhood%2B012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8AemKkqS8SQ/T2SzNmAaO1I/AAAAAAAABSc/2jV31NUJ0Zw/s320/debchildhood%2B012.JPG" /></a></div><br />
My sisters were innocents in it all too. I dug out their letters which I’d kept from all those years ago and found their children’s names and my sisters married names, and I started to imagine what they were like and if only I could see them through a one-sided mirror, like in a police station. After about a year of obsessing about them, I decided to try and look them up. <br />
<br />
Oh, the power of social networks. It didn’t take long to find them on Friends Re-united and Facebook. Then my best friend persuaded me to send them a message. A couple of hours later, their simple two line response came back. They were so pleased to hear from me and would LOVE to keep in touch. Within two weeks of being FB friends we spoke on the phone and less than a couple of months later, they travelled to South Shropshire to visit just a couple of weeks after I had <a href="http://www.gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/progress.html">major surgery</a>. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1WH1ytqakok/T2TKYqXXX-I/AAAAAAAABS0/TaWvzaAEB-Y/s1600/girlsMAIN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="185" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1WH1ytqakok/T2TKYqXXX-I/AAAAAAAABS0/TaWvzaAEB-Y/s320/girlsMAIN.jpg" /></a></div>Having met the girls, I wanted to contact my mum and ask her some questions. We only wrote one letter each before we spoke on the phone. A couple of months later, I met her for the first time. We laughed. We cried. Mostly she kept hugging and kissing me, unable to believe we'd found each other again.<br />
<br />
That was last February; just over a year ago. Since then, mum and my sisters have been over to stay. I’ve been back to Hull (where I originated from) to see them and met their families. We speak every week and text each other most days. <br />
<br />
When I discovered my ex’s second affair last June, they gave me unbelievable strength and support. His first affair, seven years ago nearly destroyed me emotionally and some of the decisions I made then to stay with him then were based on all my old insecurities. Pain and knocks to my self-esteem were preferable to rejection; my Achilles heel. But second time around, the old demons are gone and now, as well as having the best friends in the world, I have a mum and my sisters (as well as my dad, and a half-brother and sister and their families.)<br />
<br />
I consider myself truly blessed and know I’ll never feel loneliness again. Part of me regrets that I missed out so many years of having them in my life but hey, it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? Our relationship is natural. It feels as if we were never apart. Perhaps having children of my own helped me understand why mum made some of the decisions she did and understand how difficult it must have been for her. It’s taken a couple of years to come to terms with Nan’s actions too, but I've forgiven her. I owe Nan everything and had so much love and attention, I never felt disadvantaged for not having a mum or dad. Life would have been so very different had she not taken me in and adopted me as children’s homes in the 60’s or 70’s were not the best of places. Nan simply protected me, (and herself, of course.)<br />
<br />
My sisters tell me mum has changed over the last year or so too. She is happy and carefree. Her eyes smile when she laughs these days because she’s free of the burden she carried for all those years, overjoyed to have me and my boys in her life again. Her family is complete. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lhIyKNpRZyE/T2TLyWItq5I/AAAAAAAABTA/I06ocIJCV7s/s1600/Mam%252Bhergirls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="216" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lhIyKNpRZyE/T2TLyWItq5I/AAAAAAAABTA/I06ocIJCV7s/s400/Mam%252Bhergirls.JPG" /></a></div><br />
There is nothing like a mother’s Love, and my Nan’s. How lucky I am to have had both. <br />
<br />
Happy Mother’s Day to them, and to mother’s everywhere. <br />
<br />
Until another day<br />
xxx<br />Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-61757274660037174992012-03-09T07:23:00.000+00:002012-03-09T07:30:30.208+00:00I'm looking for Mr RightAll is revealed on <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/2012/03/09/hero-or-anti-hero-help-me-find-mr-right/">The Romaniacs blog</a>.
Come and help me find an ideal man there, will you?
(Click the link above or on the Romaniacs gravatar on the side bar)
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ULIdaqL1Q3s/T1mvh6h4MkI/AAAAAAAABSA/pGTblBiJOII/s1600/Mr%2BRight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="221" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ULIdaqL1Q3s/T1mvh6h4MkI/AAAAAAAABSA/pGTblBiJOII/s320/Mr%2BRight.jpg" /></a></div>
Until another day
Bye for now
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-59314769202847622682012-02-24T08:11:00.000+00:002012-02-24T10:08:29.527+00:00It's me, me, meI have the pleasure of being the last of <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs</a> to reveal myself today.
The Romaniacs are a fab, supportive group of aspiring authors and we're all members of the Romantic Novelist Association's New Writer's scheme. So please come and check us out if you haven't already, and give me some moral support ;)
I'm blogging about dreams and determination...
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TP-rBkKK6ZU/T0ZNMdHMjfI/AAAAAAAABRo/Vb62V4FsjO8/s1600/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TP-rBkKK6ZU/T0ZNMdHMjfI/AAAAAAAABRo/Vb62V4FsjO8/s320/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" /></a></div>
Bye for now
xx
PS - Here is the link for <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs</a>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-52124766126573372772012-02-18T15:32:00.001+00:002012-02-19T10:20:51.442+00:00Apologies for my absenceI am still here, albeit positioned somewhere between the rock I crawled under a few months ago and the girl you now see frenetically waving above the parapet, trying to keep afloat.
Ok. So I could give a hundred reasons why I haven't blogged for such a long time, but for those who follow me (is there anyone still out there? lol) you will know I'm a positive kind of person and I'm not going to blog and moan and depress you all with my woes of the last few months.
Suffice to say I survived my youngest and my birthdays, the divorce process, various flare-ups, Christmas, New Year, my wedding anniversary, our old Labrador being put to sleep, my eldest being finished at work, three weeks out with some variation of the flu, and Valentine's day...
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Monday 20th February is Decree Nisi day. Six weeks and one day thereafter, I will be a divorced woman.
I am back! Almost.
In the meantime, if there is anyone still out there who gives a jot, or anyone who's found this blog because you're a wannabe writer, check out my band of merry, rookie RNA writers - <a href="http://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/">The Romaniacs</a>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-orHTs1vP9x4/Tz-_RTJ3W1I/AAAAAAAABRM/-fDz8_9kAxA/s1600/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-orHTs1vP9x4/Tz-_RTJ3W1I/AAAAAAAABRM/-fDz8_9kAxA/s320/the-romaniacs-heart1.jpg" /></a></div>
As well as my friends and wonderful family, these girls have got me through the last few months. So if you are in need of some inspiration or support, check them out.
I WILL be back...
Until another day, (hopefully not too far away.)
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-63156616597789816552011-11-04T10:45:00.000+00:002011-11-04T10:46:29.175+00:00Check this out!Fellow aspiring author and RNA Member, the lovely Laura James, starts a new feature - <a href="http://www.lauraejames.co.uk/page8.php">'Find out Friday' </a>on her blog today, and I'm her first guest interview!
It's my first interview too, so go and see what I have to say!
Until another day
Bye for now
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-78097744519646140642011-10-25T10:04:00.003+01:002011-10-27T14:13:13.360+01:00We interrupt this blog with an announcement...Apologies for anyone expecting to read the 'coping strategies’ I promised in my <br />
<a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2011/10/its-battle-of-heart-and-mind.html">previous blog</a> but I have an announcement to make, a rather significant announcement for a wannabe writer…<br />
<br />
Last weekend at the inaugural <a href="http://festivalofromance.co.uk/">Festival of Romance International Convention</a> I was awarded runner up in the New Talent Award. As someone who doesn’t normally like to sing my own praises, I’m sure you’ll allow me, just for this once to bask in the glory, especially given the year I’ve had. <br />
<br />
Only a few weeks ago I didn’t even know whether I’d attend, having booked the weekend on a whim during one of my fight back moments. For aspiring author's to attend, one of the conditions was entering the New Talent Award. Back in August when I (somehow) managed to complete my first novel, 'Mother's Love' for the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/index.php/join/new_writers_scheme">RNA New Writer’s Scheme,</a> I received some excellent and encouraging feedback, but with everything else that has gone on over recent weeks, I haven’t got round to starting the suggested revisions. And so I duly emailed the required first chapter and synopsis of ‘Mother’s Love’ to <a href="http://www.kateallan.com/">Kate Allan,</a> delightful author and organiser of the Festival without another thought.<br />
<br />
And what a Festival it was! Superbly organised and executed by everyone involved, it was a joy to mingle with, and learn from established authors, agents and publishers, and to get to know better some of my AA (Aspiring Author) counterparts. What a lovely bunch of Romantic Novelists. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-zJtUrjEBI/TqZwxNNy3xI/AAAAAAAABPU/CN_GtBqKuHw/s1600/299637_172939882794426_100002352466043_372126_1580194366_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-zJtUrjEBI/TqZwxNNy3xI/AAAAAAAABPU/CN_GtBqKuHw/s320/299637_172939882794426_100002352466043_372126_1580194366_n.jpg" /></a></div>The backdrop of <a href="http://www.deverevenues.co.uk/locations/hunton-park.html">Hunton Park</a> couldn’t have been a better setting, and I almost expected Mr Darcy to come romping across the lawns in my direction. He didn’t, alas, but I got my kicks elsewhere; in particular the session on Erotica versus Erotic Romance, which I’d never dared to even think about but now, especially as I’m a singleton, I may consider ;)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDQguPDkE8I/TqZ36RwGPVI/AAAAAAAABPg/ArTWpMUPOjE/s1600/festival1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="166" width="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FDQguPDkE8I/TqZ36RwGPVI/AAAAAAAABPg/ArTWpMUPOjE/s320/festival1.jpg" /></a></div>Dressed in my best Audrey Hepburn style posh frock, by the time of the evening dinner, Ball and award ceremony, the residual nerves and lack of confidence were banished by the half bottle of red wine I drank before going out. Thank you to all who kept me company throughout the weekend, and for those I didn’t manage to meet, we’ll hopefully get together at the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/index.php/activities/event/winter_party_2011">RNA Winter Party</a> <br />
<br />
The awards ceremony commenced – a glitzy, glamorous affair with top talents in the Romantic Genre and Historical being recognised. Then it was onto the Festival’s New Talent Award, with agent, Jane Judd presenting the awards. (I’ve long had my list of top agents and Jane features in my top three.) Looking round the table of talent, I wondered which of my fellow rookie writer’s names might be called. And the first name out… <br />
<br />
‘Debbie White receives the commended award for her novel, "Tough Love."’ <br />
<br />
I don’t know whether it was the fact that the title of the novel wasn’t mine, or that I was so stunned to have a 'commended' that made me freeze in the chair. <br />
<br />
‘Go on, that’s you.’ <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/CeliaAnderson1">Celia Anderson</a> gave me a little shove, encouraging me to get up and shake hands with my heroine agent.<br />
3rd place – the lovely <a href="http://sarahcallejo.blogspot.com/">Sarah Callejo</a><br />
2nd Place – <a href="http://www.rosemarydun.co.uk/">Rosemary Dun’s</a> name was read out but the title of her novel was mine, ‘Mother’s Love.’Poor Rosemary had had to go home early with dreadful earache. <br />
1st place and winner of the coveted New Talent Award - went to <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/henrigyland">Henriette Gyland</a> Congratulations Henri!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tc1OEgLyKHk/TqZ4GPWkv4I/AAAAAAAABPs/EAFUkVD8uIU/s1600/festival4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="258" width="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tc1OEgLyKHk/TqZ4GPWkv4I/AAAAAAAABPs/EAFUkVD8uIU/s320/festival4.jpg" /></a></div>There was evidently some kind of a mix up with the author’s names and titles but it didn’t matter to me. I’d been commended, and for the next hour or two my emotions leapt somewhere between giddy excitement and pure emotion at how I’ve never given up my dream, and at last, irrespective of the eventual outcome with my first novel, I’d had some ‘proper’ official recognition that I can write. I DO have potential. The reason I attended the weekend was to kickstart my badly neglected writing career after events of the last few months and health problems, and this couldn’t have been better incentive.<br />
<br />
Late in the evening I saw Jane Judd and her husband look as if they might be making a move, and fuelled by yet more red wine and the knowledge that if I didn’t properly introduce myself I’d always regret it, a wave of courage suddenly gripped me and catapulted me into her path, blocking her exit. <br />
<br />
I shook hands nervously, bumbling that there had been a bit of a mix up with the titles, but thanking her for giving me the commendation for 'Mother’s Love.’ <br />
<br />
‘Is that the one about the Grandmother?’ Jane asked. <br />
<br />
‘Yes that’s mine.’<br />
<br />
‘No, that was definitely second,’ she said. ‘And it was a close second. I voted for yours to win…’<br />
<br />
Second, fourth, I genuinely don't care. I'm sure my fellow AA's will agree, to be able to reach the top four in any kind of contest when you crave publication is massive achievement and big boost of confidence. For me, hearing Jane's comments and to get the opportunity to submit to her is prize enough. Needless to say the rest of the evening passed in a bit of a blur, not only because of the red wine. <br />
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Indeed I’ve been pinching myself ever since. I emailed Jane yesterday, saying it was good to meet her, and thanking her for the opportunity to submit the full MS which I will do once I’ve made the RNA NWS suggested tweaks. (I was also trying to prove that I could be professional and not a complete drunken buffoon.)Twenty minutes later she emailed back, not only confirming that I hadn’t dreamt Saturday night, but also giving me her feedback and the constructive feedback from Donna Condon, Senior Editor at Piatkus publishing. <br />
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With that invaluable advice, the hard work really starts for me, but bring it on. Everything happens for a reason. I always knew writing would be my salvation, and as I look back I see that booking the Festival of Romance weekend on a whim was not just a fightback moment, it might well be a defining moment. Life will get better from this point onwards, I just know it…<br />
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Until another day<br />
<br />
Bye for now<br />
xx<br />
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PS - <a href="http://festivalofromance.co.uk/#/awards/4549309129">Click here</a> - for full details of the nominees and winners of Festival of Romance Awards. In particular, splediferous well done's to:<br />
<a href="http://www.suemoorcroft.com/">Sue Moorcroft</a> - winner of Best Romantic Read<br />
<a href="http://www.jeanfullerton.com/">Jean Fullerton</a> - winner of Best Historical Romance Read<br />
<a href="http://twitter.com/#!/henrigyland">Henri Gyland</a> - Winner of best New Talent <br />
<a href="http://www.carolematthews.com/">Carole Matthews</a> - Outstanding contribution to Romantic Fiction<br />
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PPS - All photos are courtesy of the <a href="www.liz-crump.blogspot.com">wonderful talented Liz Crump</a> - thanks Liz, and great to meet you!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SqSgpWoqDvU/TqZ4b6ELsMI/AAAAAAAABQE/kAkxNoyT-0Y/s1600/festival2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="166" width="205" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SqSgpWoqDvU/TqZ4b6ELsMI/AAAAAAAABQE/kAkxNoyT-0Y/s400/festival2.jpg" /></a></div>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-71024445239588622202011-10-10T12:41:00.005+01:002011-10-10T14:14:13.099+01:00It's a battle of heart and mind...<i>"It’s hard to tell your mind to stop loving someone when your heart still does."<br />
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</i> I’ve read some great quotes lately, and another which particularly resonated was, <i>"The pain of having a broken heart is not so much as to kill you, yet not so little as to let you live.."</i> <br />
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<b>Image-kateshudsons.blogspot.com</b><br />
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When the main holidays were over and the children went back to school, I was smacked in the face by reality, hence the lack of posts. I know you'll understand. Thank you for your lovely messages. They are a huge comfort, even if I don't always reply promptly ;)<br />
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Much of my limited free time I've wandered aimlessly, daydreaming, over analysing, and in between devoured the occasional <a href="www.runawayhusbands.com/healing_place.html">self-help book</a> as I tried to pick my way through the mess which had become my life. <br />
<br />
But here I am, <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2009/10/we-all-have-our-cross-to-bear.html">The Queen of fightback,</a> sticking my head above the parapet to write this. As I type, outside there's a solitary swallow – probably the last of the summer, balancing on the telephone wire in the garden as it prepares to leave for a different climate. And as summer wrings its last few weak rays from the sun I’m struck by the parallels between the swallow and me. The summer has gone, and now it's time to move on to the next stage...<br />
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I’ve accepted my marriage is over, as surely as I concede that autumn means that most trees and plants die off to preserve their energy for the long winter months and to re-generate in the spring, anew. Start afresh. After the baby step progress I’ve been making, my epiphany feels like an empowering leap into the abyss that is the future. No more numbness; clinging and fighting, stumbling through the memories that are the past, searching for answers or to turn back time. It’s time to stop. Enough. I’ve had enough.<br />
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Six years ago, when it happened first time round I thought it was the end of my world but now, in between the emotional turmoil, I know it’s not. And occasionally I glimpse the fun-loving girl I used to be. <br />
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I realise I want to look forward, and grasp the future.<br />
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It doesn’t matter whether or not I still love him. I love myself more, and actually, if I’m being honest, I don’t love who he is now. The love in my heart is for the man I thought he was; the man he used to be. I’m tired of fighting for something that doesn’t exist any more; of analysing and second guessing what my ex is <i>really</i> thinking. With this realisation, I also see I’ve been clinging onto the past and to things that are out of my control. Any wonders it felt like I was trying to clutch for water flowing down a river. It's impossible to hold onto. The only control I have is over myself and my own actions, and its time to get a grip. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLR01EI6-0I-2YE3eEfeOuGKv46zKSGMdNjZmcQZdbWshfYn8VeRXbCwMnPMcwRPFBMu7gfx2BQ7FsMRUIR_qN035wXQLq0hSnU4d64QYix7wI6h8D856bTcvugbI7gVqN7q4Owr0SuB5/s1600/Let+go.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="171" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLR01EI6-0I-2YE3eEfeOuGKv46zKSGMdNjZmcQZdbWshfYn8VeRXbCwMnPMcwRPFBMu7gfx2BQ7FsMRUIR_qN035wXQLq0hSnU4d64QYix7wI6h8D856bTcvugbI7gVqN7q4Owr0SuB5/s200/Let+go.jpg" /></a></div>I still understand him, despite everything. Whether it’s just a temporary interruption – that normal service will be resumed soon – or whether he’s lost forever, I don’t know, and I can’t waste any more time waiting to see any more.I don’t want a man who lacks integrity, who isn’t as loyal and loves as unconditionally as me. I want inner peace and happiness back in my life. Its been missing too long. Every moment spent stuck on the past and him, trying to figure it all out is time wasted on re-building my life and future. No one else will do it for me. I need to champion my own cause, for me and the boys, so we can all strive to live, and move on. <br />
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We’re getting divorced. End of. I've filed the petition. I had to admit defeat. An unknown future is unnerving, but I'm not frightened of it any more, and I'd rather be alone forever than spend my time constantly looking over my shoulder, being second best, or waiting for it to happen again. It probably would. The best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour, and having been here twice now, the chances of him changing and doing the right thing are pretty slim. <br />
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I'm brave enough to face it and who know's, it may even be exciting. In a few days when I have more time, I’ll share the coping strategies that I’m learning along this rocky path. Hopefully they may help someone else who may be in the same position as me if they are stumbling the same route and find my blog. <br />
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Until then I’ll leave you with a few more of my favourite quotes about moving on and letting go:-<br />
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<i>"If someone you love hurts you cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it."<br />
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"If you can’t save the relationship, at least save your pride."</i><br />
<i><br />
“When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.</i>” — Alexander Graham Bell<br />
<i><br />
“Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.”</i> ~ Hermann Hesse<br />
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One final one:-<br />
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<i>"No matter who broke your heart, or how long it takes to heal, you’ll never get through it without your friends."<br />
</i><br />
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Thank you all for being there.<br />
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Until another day<br />
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Bye for now<br />
<br />
Xx<br />
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<b>Image <a href="http://kateshudsons.blogspot.com/2011/09/quotes-about-letting-go.html">Kate Hudson Blogspot</a></b>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-64679858881946940262011-07-27T16:29:00.002+01:002011-07-27T16:48:16.431+01:00I want more than this...It’s been a tough few weeks of firsts and facing things alone. <br />
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One of the hardest aspects is fronting people but it has to be done. It’s sad - terribly, unbelievably, gut wrenchingly sad - but as the old saying goes, “Life moves on,” and I have to do it some time. The boys need me to keep going. There’s no chance to curl up under a stone to hide away, however tempting the prospect so I have to overcome these events and push through the pain. <br />
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When things first kicked off I managed to keep a distance from the bus stop parents by dropping off and picking up whilst remaining in the car, waving and forcing a smile. However, the school summer show was less forgiving. Only a couple of days after I'd found out, I had to brave the other mums and dads, and watch them walk around hand in hand with their eyes twinkling and smiling faces, I couldn’t help comparing their happiness to my life a few months ago, wondering what might be going on behind closed doors, and whether any of them were betraying their partners. <br />
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Walking into the school hall to see the judging of the Home Entries was tough. Neither Quiet Mousie nor I had entered anything this year. Despite our good intentions, we didn’t feel like it once events took over. Child sized tables displayed the categories; best home produce, best half dozen eggs, best teatime fancies, best flower arrangements etc… <br />
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I glimpsed the entries for the men’s cookery section but couldn’t bear to look at the scones on display remembering the hysterics of some of hubby's attempts over the last six years and the caustic criticisms from the judges; “Lacked presentation,” “Too much butter,” “Should have been placed on a doily instead of straight onto the tray…” His cookies were sublime and I'll never forget how we all cheered when we went into the hall and spotted the gold 1st rosette next to his entry. He feasted on his success for weeks but there will be no more domestic chaos on the weekend of the summer show in future with our family stressing and rushing to pick all the flowers, do the displays, bake the cakes, make the jams and finish all our entries to get them to the hall for the cut off for judging in time. And Quiet Mousie only has one more year of the summer show before he goes to secondary school. <br />
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Despite the emotion and spending all day with my sunglasses on to mask my eyes, I did well considering, and lasted an hour and a half then slipped away and left Quiet Mousie to go home with our lovely neighbours.<br />
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Two days later, sports day was slightly easier. I only cried three times and lasted the duration, although I chose not to partake in the refreshments afterwards.<br />
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A couple of weekends ago was the first time of facing the other mum’s and dads from QM’s footie club. I couldn’t let him down as he’d been looking forward to a night camping with all the kids and parents. <br />
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If I'm very honest, it was horrendous and I spent most of the weekend trying to keep my face from crumpling, especially when someone’s sincere words and good wishes touched me, or as I watched QM stop playing with his pals to check his mobile phone and see if he’d had a message from his Dad. A year ago I would have abhorred the thought of my ten year old having a mobile phone but hey, he’s over the moon with it and is in more contact with his dad now than he was before with him being in London through the week. QM is doing remarkably well, considering. <br />
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To him the weekend was a huge success and that's all that mattered. The people were wonderful and protected me throughout, and as they detected my fargile mood, they left me to my thoughts and solitude and let me continue to gaze into the flickering, leaping flames of the camp fire. And they understood when I chose to sleep in my car alone rather than in the dorms with two of the other mums.<br />
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Last weekend was the hardest hurdle so far. The annual village party, the one time of year when everyone in the village gets together, we all hire a marque and bouncy castle, each bring food and drink and have a merry time. News had travelled through the village grapevine apace and I’d had many sincere offers of support and help, but so far I’d managed to avoid people (other than my nearest and dearest neighbours) by simply driving through the village, giving a wave and a weak smile as I passed them in their gardens, walking their dogs, or in their cars. <br />
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As I pulled up at this year’s host’s garden and saw the melee of people and children, the kids on the bouncy castle, I felt physically sick and wanted to turn on my heels and run but my neighbour, who had followed me down in her car so we might arrive together geed me up. <br />
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‘Come on, or I’ll grab your hand and drag you in!’ she said, guiding my arm with her hand. Then Quiet Mousie spotted me, beamed and waved frantically, happy to see me and there was no choice but for me to go through the gate to join them all... <br />
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I’d planned to stay an hour then go and collect Idle Jack from work, drop him there and make my excuses to go home (knowing my neighbours would bring the boys back up the lane.) But once I was there and felt how my wonderful community wrapped me and the boys in their warm blanket of friendship and care, I actually ended up being one of the last to leave. <br />
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Along with me at the end of the evening were three good male friends who sat at a table, merrily tittering, drunk, cracking their juvenile jokes as their wives stood opposite, smirking at the state of them, knowing they would suffer in the morning and rolling their adoring eyes in feigned annoyance. If recent events hadn’t happened, my hubby would have been there, ‘one of the lads,’ his humour more juvenile than them all, and I would have been crying with mirth at the scene. <br />
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As I sat there smiling at their antics, I remembered the words that he said to me when I first discovered the affair; <br />
<i>“I don’t know when, but at some point in the last year I realised I wanted more than this…” </i><br />
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I can’t tell you how many times, I’ve replayed those words in my head over the last couple of weeks. And I wondered, how could he possibly want more than this?...<br />
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Until another day <br />
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xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-85882307578068743612011-07-12T23:58:00.011+01:002011-07-17T17:05:28.737+01:00Farewell...my love...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dheHo-A_MDs/ThzN8UnHFgI/AAAAAAAABNM/PZ0UK5yBLCg/s1600/getmetothechurch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="228" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dheHo-A_MDs/ThzN8UnHFgI/AAAAAAAABNM/PZ0UK5yBLCg/s320/getmetothechurch.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<i>"Living well is the best revenge,"</i> according to George Herbert.<br />
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I’m not there yet. It may take some time, but I will, one day, before too long. I hope. <br />
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Those of you who know me know I've been here before, and from a <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2009/10/we-all-have-our-cross-to-bear.html">previous post</a> will see I’m rather a master of resilience and overcoming adversity. Thankfully, this time it doesn't feel quite so much like it's the end of my world. I know I'll survive. It’s what I do best, and boy, after everything I've had in the last year - in the words of Monty Python, 'Tis but a meagre scratch.'<br />
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I jest. Oh, that what I’m going to go through in the next few months would be quite so painless. I’m all too aware, after twenty-two years with someone, this is going to hurt. <br />
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I don’t want to put on the worldwide web the innermost details of my personal life. You'll understand and read between the lines. Suffice to say; over the last two weeks my life has crumbled, and it’s nothing to do with cancer… <br />
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But hey, I have the best friends and family a girl could wish for - and you good folks - although I know you'll forgive me for saying that despite all this wonderful support, I can be in a roomful of people, yet still feel like the loneliest person in the world.<br />
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The reason for this is because I lost my truest, bestest friend about six or seven years ago. We never truly recovered first time round. It's not all his fault. I played my part, and I appreciate I've never been quite the same since. Then last year, with my jaw problems, I know I was a grumpy bitch being in pain. And this year with the cancer scare (although happily it turns out I'm simply a menopausal old bag.) What I'm trying to say is I know all the things I did wrong. It's just that I always believed we had a love that was so special, it would conquer anything. <br />
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But I see now, sometimes, love alone is not enough. Naively, I believed the amazing friendship we’d had (and overcome everything thus far) would win through every time. I presumed it was a deep bond that only soul mates have. I took that for granted. Our friendship wasn’t enough. <br />
<br />
<i>I wasn’t enough</i>…<br />
<br />
I’m not often wrong about affairs of the heart. I was this time. However, I gave it my best, for the sake of me, and my children. Even writing this I'm pricked by the knowledge that if I hadn't have had children, I might have made different decisions a few years ago and been through to the other side, onto a happier life by now. <br />
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I doubt it. I have no regrets. I truly loved my husband, with all my heart. I/We tried. It wasn’t to be, and perhaps, the one crumb of comfort I have to keep me warm at night in the vast space of bed beside me is that having been there before, I know I <i>will</i> get through this time even though it feels as if part of me has died. I don't have to go through the pain of giving him a second chances this time, no begging him to stay, fighting for him - none of the endless months of torture and heartache. Once I’m through the shock and initial panic of sorting out and unravelling twenty two years of marriage, I will bounce back in my usual, inimitable fashion. That doesn't stop me finding writing this hard, feeling so very sad, knowing how final things are and that my future will be alone. It's a good job I like my own company ;) <br />
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I’ve had so many people asking where I am. Thank you for caring. Those who knew what has happened have sent wonderful messages of support, and reading your comments on my last post, I felt I had to post this. <br />
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I’m not sure when I’ll surface again. I know I’ll miss the deadline for the RNA New Writer’s Scheme now. But I will most definitely be back…<br />
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Here's a quote <i>I made up </i> which maybe I should enter into the google archives:<br />
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"Don't despair when the person you love leaves you. The truth is, it's not <i>your</i> loss, but theirs, for they have left the only person who loves them unconditionally, and wouldn't have given up on them..." <br />
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See you when I see you<br />
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Until another day<br />
XxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-19766241046848832872011-06-06T15:27:00.015+01:002011-07-13T00:43:46.030+01:00Positive vibes welcome. PleaseTomorrow, Tuesday,7th June,I find out whether I have Endometrial cancer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcHd_Smcqk/TezlCal1WlI/AAAAAAAABNE/kH1wSLKepHM/s1600/worriedwoman1" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcHd_Smcqk/TezlCal1WlI/AAAAAAAABNE/kH1wSLKepHM/s200/worriedwoman1" /></a></div>I tell you this because earlier this week, I watched a documentary about Joseph Merrick, better known as Elephant Man, and how he lived for his short twenty seven years with the terrible affliction of Proteus Syndrome. Speculation still surrounds his death and whether it was accidental or deliberate on his part. And as I listened to the programme it struck me how his infirmity must have affected him, living with it day in, day out, and I found myself empathising, understanding if he did stage his own death why he might have done so. <br />
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Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never encountered anything like the physical difficulties or prejudices Merrick had – in fact, the outsider would never know from first glance anything was wrong with me. But living with <a href="http://www.behcets.org.uk/Medical/informationforpatients/whatisbehcetsdisease">Behcets,</a>an auto-immune disease means there’s always some new health hurdle to contend with and I can totally understand how someone who lives with terminal illness, or chronic pain or illness might decide they’ve had enough. <br />
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Pain has been my lodger, my cross to bear (or ignore) for the last twenty five years. There's always something. Usually it's arthritis but I also experience colitis, ulcers (mouth and vaginal,) or some other aspect or by-product of the treatment for my condition. I've had septicaemia, avascular necrosis, miscarriages. The latest development is some sort of <a href="http://vasculitisfoundation.org/files/Vasculitis_Patient_Information_Handbook_4.22.08.pdf">vascular problem</a> with my hands, feet and head which I'm seeing my Rheumatologist about in a couple of weeks. Six months ago, I thought I’d tackled the <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2010/10/progress.html">biggest obstacle with the jaw replacements</a> and hoped there might be a little respite for a couple of years. However, it seems Mother Nature has other ideas. <br />
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I’d ignored ‘women’s problems’ (constant, heavy bleeding and niggling stomach cramps) for months and put it down to the stress of the surgery, perhaps my system lashing out, or maybe being forty four years old I was simply a menopausal old bag! Eventually, I relented to hubby's badgering and went to see the GP. As a result, for the past few weeks I've had all sorts of investigations which have found an enlarged uterus, abnormal blood and smear tests, and in between, <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2011/03/another-holiday-bites-dust.html">you may recall</a> we had to cancel a trip to New York in March because two days before we were due to travel, I ended up in A & E with crippling stomach pains. As I lay in that A & E bed, I turned to my hubby and meant it when I said, ‘If it is cancer, I don’t want to have treatment. I’m weary. I’ve had enough.’<br />
<br />
To be fair the hospital has moved quickly and after more delving, a couple of weeks ago I had a biopsy to test for Endometrial cancer, the most likely cause for my symptoms. In my heart, I don’t think it will be and even if it is the ‘C’ word, the prognosis is good if I have a full hysterectomy and chemo/and/or radiotherapy. But do you see what I mean? I thought I’d come through one big, bad lot of surgery; of life being on hold, cancelling holidays and experiencing pain so bad, I literally used to writhe in agony on the sofa. If it's <i>not</i> cancer, months of treatments may lay ahead and if none of them work there could be the same end result - a hysterectomy. And what really peeves me is whatever the outcome, as sure as night follows day, something else <i>will</i> come along. It's the nature of the beast that is 'auto-immune disease.'<br />
<br />
Hubby and my boys have years ahead to enjoy their lives. Do they really want to carry this sickly, relentless burden around for the next thirty, maybe forty years? And am I not entitled to decide when I've had enough? <br />
<br />
<i>NO.</i> As one of my best friends pointed out, I’m a mother and with that role, there is obligation and responsibility to my children. There isn't just me to think about. I have to carry on doing what I do best - fight - whether this is cancer or just another manifestation of the Behcets. <br />
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I’m in a perfectly lucid and rational mood - I promise - so please don’t think this is me being depressed or feeling sorry for myself. I don’t want tea and sympathy, although some positive vibes for Tuesday might help ;) <br />
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I suspect only those who live with chronic pain or illness will truly understand what I’m alluding to in the above. Perhaps if you read this and it means something you might leave a comment so that those close to me don't think I've gone completely bonkers, and that I know I'm not the only person who wishes in today's modern world we had the right to choose when and how we might turn the lights out. <br />
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We all deserve to be able to say, <i>'Enough is enough,'</i> don't we?<br />
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Until another day<br />
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Bye for now<br />
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com71tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-16228848152635881962011-05-19T14:46:00.009+01:002011-06-06T19:27:53.517+01:00My name's Debbie, and I'm an alcoholic...<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/deed.en_GB">Photo: Jocelyn Durston </a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkXKjAxZeuA/TdUXMMvveOI/AAAAAAAABMo/P-8O2miR2To/s1600/httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkXKjAxZeuA/TdUXMMvveOI/AAAAAAAABMo/P-8O2miR2To/s320/httpcreativecommons.orglicensesby-nc-nd2.5.jpg" /></a></div>Or at least I will be, if I keep drinking wine like I do. <br />
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What’s the big deal I hear you ask? It's only a couple of glasses of wine at night. Where’s the harm?<br />
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I’ve been drinking at least two or three glasses of wine every night for maybe a year, and what I don’t like is that my <i>little habit</i> has turned into a battle of wills, with wine winning more often than not. <br />
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Like most women, I'm always trying to shift a few pounds. Following my recent health <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2010/10/progress.html">problems and surgery,</a> in January I made a decision to get back in shape and thought giving up alcohol for a few weeks was bound to help the waistline. Easy enough, yes? <br />
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No. I made the decision mid-week but by Thursday my resolve was weakening.On Friday when hubby poured himself a glass and asked if I fancied one, I found myself justifying the craving. <i>"It's only one glass. It’s your only vice. You deserve it”</i> ‘Oh, go on then.’ The words were out before I could stop them and I caved. A few weeks later in March I tried again. I lasted two weeks, and actually, every day since, I’ve told myself I won’t have a drink, or I’ll only have one glass, but every evening my willpower ends up round my ankles, not to mention the guilt, the castigating, and disappointment with myself.<br />
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This realisation of my unhealthy relationship with fermented grape juice has crept up on me. I don’t remember exactly when the penchant began. Like many people, when I worked, I liked to come in from work at night and pour a glass of wine while preparing dinner. After the kids came along, it was "wine o'clock," that magic ‘me’ time after the little blighters had gone to bed and calm was restored chez nous, and I’d sit and watch TV, or read, with a glass of wine clasped firmly in hand. When I retired from work on ill health grounds, I carried on the habit. Hubby would come in from work - I’d already have a glass on the worktop as I prepared dinner - I’d get him a beer and pour myself a top up as we chatted and ate dinner. After clearing up, I’d pour another glass as the family sat down to watch TV. Three or four glasses said in context doesn’t sound excessive, does it? <br />
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The trouble is, then there's the occasional glass of Dutch courage I need if I'm going somewhere and feel unconfident, like one of hubby's work parties. Or the habit I've developed of having one while I do the ironing in an evening. And there's nothing like sitting on the patio, admiring the view and watching the swallows while sipping a cold glass of white...<br />
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These little associations to alcohol aren't healthy. Don’t get me wrong, drinking doesn’t affect my day to day life. I’m not out of control or a binge drinker. I rarely get drunk. Two or three bad hangovers in my early years of drinking are deterrent enough to stop a desire to get blotto. And unless we’re having Sunday dinner or on holiday, I can't stomach a drink before tea-time. <br />
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But am I the only woman, who around the time of 'The Weakest Link,' finds themselves watching the clock, waiting for the magic moment when it will be six o’clock somewhere in the world so I can get the corkscrew out and open the next bottle?<br />
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Evidently not. When I speak to my friends, some of them share the same habit. And according to several <a href="http://www.nhs.uk/Livewell/women4060/Pages/Dyingforadrink.aspx">articles</a> there's a growing trend for middle-age women to hit the wine bottle in the evening, not falling down drunk, but a glass or two at the end of the day. Every day. <i>That's me</i>. Who would have thought about the 35+ units it adds up to. <br />
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<a href="http://www.everystockphoto.com/photographer.php? photographer_id=44815"> Photo:Luis Rock</a><br />
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As many as 1 in 6 has a problem with alcohol dependency. More than <a href="http://www.alcoholsubstanceabuse.com/alcoholism/middle-age-drinking-among-women-a-growing-problem/">1 in 3 women </a>over 35 drinks more than they did in their teens. And 1 in 5 women over 35 admits to regularly binge drinking.<br />
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It’s a standing joke in our house about "Mum and her wine." <br />
Even the kids see the association. It was funny at first but now I’m starting to feel it’s all a little sad. I don't want to turn into a bag lady. I started buying boxes instead of bottles. It didn’t look quite so desperate (or was it because it hid how much I was drinking?) But then I realised I could get through a box of wine in three to four days. It’s too easy to keep topping up with a box. And it was even more of a shock when I calculated how many units are in a box. Mum’s psychological crutch had increased to a bottle of wine a night. How shocking is that? <br />
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The fact that I've been able to stop in January and March without any ill effect shows I’m not <i>physically</i> addicted as such. However, I don’t like the thought that <i>psychologically</i>, my drinking habits are hooking me in, as alcohol insiduously teases me towards the slippery slope. It might be a way of helping me to wind down, but is the increase because it takes more and more alcohol to achieve the same effects, as your body becomes used to it. Because eventually alcohol might become the <i>only </i>way to wind down...<br />
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Am I over-analysing? Do I have a drink problem? I should be the one in control, not the wine, so I guess that makes it one, if it’s a problem to <i> me.</i> <br />
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I'm not addicted, but it's a habit which is starting to make me unhappy, and therefore one that needs breaking. Besides anything else, I take a lot of medication already for my <a href="http://www.arthritisresearchuk.org/arthritis_information/arthritis_types__symptoms/behcets_syndrome.aspx">Behcets disease</a> – Methotrexate (an anti-cancer drug,) Sulphasalazine, (an anti-rheumatic,) Celecoxib, painkillers (sometimes morphine based.) I won’t bore you with them all, but you can see the amount of toxins my system has to cope with. I really shouldn’t punish my body by adding more. <br />
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And also, I have a new set of health worries to contend with - more about them in another post - but I need to make sure I’m strong and able to cope with whatever the outcome. Time will tell. Perhaps it's this scare which has given me the jolt I need, and to this end, I’ve stopped drinking. No wine has passed my lips for...err... forty-eight hours... but it's a start, and giving up for one night was the first psychological hurdle. <br />
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I won't set myself up to fail by declaring I'm going teetotal. For the time being, I’d like it to stop for longer than the two weeks I managed earlier in the year and to show I’m serious, I’ve posted this blog for the world to see and that I can re-read it as a reminder to look after myself better.<br />
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Right, it's your turn to be honest. Do you drink more than is good for you? And if so, have you tried to stop? Or if it's not the booze, what habit would <i>you</i> like to break?<br />
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Until another day<br />
Cheers!<br />
xx<br />
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Above statistics and information obtained from: <br />
<a href="http://www.drinkaware.co.uk/">Drinkaware</a><br />
<a href="http://www.nhs.uk/livewell/alcohol/Pages/Alcoholhome.aspx">NHS live well </a><br />
<a href="http://www.alcoholsubstanceabuse.com/alcoholism/middle-age-drinking-among-women-a-growing-problem/">Alcohol Substance Abuse</a><br />
<a href="http://www.britishlivertrust.org.uk/modules/news/StoryViewer.aspx?pid=281&intextraid=2547&fid=2460">The British Liver Trust</a>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-64026625988150920642011-05-11T17:28:00.015+01:002011-05-15T19:53:35.196+01:00Have I got news for you!No, I didn’t make it onto the <a href="http://www.therichest.org/nation/sunday-times-rich-list-2011/">Times Rich List</a>. In fact, not many other writer’s made it, except the Great JK Rowling (and her literary agent, Christopher Little,) Jeffrey Archer, and Jamie Oliver (Chef, author, restaurateur. But most writer's I know are realistic, and don't expect to make much from their chosen profession. For me, I have something far more valuable. While I was away I was awarded another three blog awards! I am honoured. A thousand thank you’s to:<br />
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<a href="http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/2011/04/z-is-for.html"> The super Elizabeth Mueller</a> for recognising that I’d finished the A-Z challenge.<br />
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The lovely <a href="http://readywritego.blogspot.com/">Cherie</a> for the Blog on Fire award<br />
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And, the splendiferous, <a href="http://authoraghoward.blogspot.com/">Anita</a> who has awarded me an Inspirational blog award.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbGD_ZuLrEI/TcqqaoArAZI/AAAAAAAABLw/TB50CMkcJag/s1600/blog%2Baward%252C%2Binspirational%2Bwonderland.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="170" width="195" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jbGD_ZuLrEI/TcqqaoArAZI/AAAAAAAABLw/TB50CMkcJag/s200/blog%2Baward%252C%2Binspirational%2Bwonderland.png" /></a></div>Oh yes, and not forgetting, I won a prize - a free 2000 words critique from writer, <a href="http://flettleglag.blogspot.com/">Jeffrey Beesler.</a> Cheers Jeff!<br />
Thank you all for your support and encouragement. It has been great to make your acquaintance over the A-Z challenge, and beyond…<br />
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Well, I’m back from the caravan after waving my little arm off flying the Union Jack flag for the Royal Wedding. And what a glorious and memorable day it was for me (hopefully the happy couple enjoyed it too.) I cried, I laughed, I ate salmon and strawberries and sipped Bucks Fizz. And that frock… (sorry, that’s a ‘dress’ for American reader’s) was divine! I thought everything was spot on – just the right amount of pomp, ceremony, and intimacy, considering millions were watching around the world. Most of all, it wasn’t too ostentatious. <br />
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Now I’m home, it's time to knuckle down to the WIP for the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/index.php/join/new_writers_scheme">NWS,</a> but not before I post this newsy, finger on the pulse blog. <br />
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Unfortunately, a <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-13344514">gagging order</a> prevents me from disclosing the latest line up of celebrities who have been caught, metaphorically speaking, with their pants down and in flagrante. But the question is, do we <i>really</i> care? Or am I the only old fart to ponder where the insatiable feeding frenzy for celebrities and the interest in their prurient, trashy lives comes from? I don’t give a stuff who’s made it big, despite their poor, troubled upbringings. I have no interest in vaguely famous people's stretch marks, their unsightly facial hair or latest drug,booze or shag-fest? Premier league footballers and their antics - pah! - I couldn't care less!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_WvtZVGBwkk/TcrKbBD_5zI/AAAAAAAABMI/2n2Az0vYPoM/s1600/Nickcleggage1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="194" width="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_WvtZVGBwkk/TcrKbBD_5zI/AAAAAAAABMI/2n2Az0vYPoM/s320/Nickcleggage1.jpg" /></a></div><b>Photo: P A Wire</b><br />
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I don't do politics in my blogs and won't go on about the <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1384060/Local-elections-2011-Lib-Dems-Nick-Clegg-crisis-AV-No-vote-set-hit-70.html#ixzz1LwTIWYZy">Lib Dem massacre in the local elections</a> but I had to mention that it hasn't been a good week for Mr Clegg, seeing his electoral reform dream crushed. And it will be even worse if he happens to spot my blog because seeing a photo of him last week, I couldn't believe how much he's aged. They say a week is a long time in politics. But it's only been a year...<br />
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<b>May 2010 - baby-faced and handsome Photo:Angela Harbutt</b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o2VXcZ1o_CI/Tcqr6fWvE2I/AAAAAAAABL4/yV5ndTa5zAo/s1600/nickclegg10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="202" width="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o2VXcZ1o_CI/Tcqr6fWvE2I/AAAAAAAABL4/yV5ndTa5zAo/s320/nickclegg10.jpg" /></a></div><br />
You wouldn’t catch me being a politician or Prime Minister, not for a squillion pounds! What a thankless job. And it wouldn’t be much better if I were still in banking. <br />
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I see in the last few days Lloyds Bank has set aside 3.2 billion for claims likely to arise from the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-13291640">incorrect selling</a> of Payment Protection Insurance (although City analysts think the actual figure will likely exceed £10bn!)<br />
Conditional selling, mis-selling - how underhand and unethical, I hear you shout! And you're right. There is no denying today's sales culture is about greed; banks make bigger profits, shareholder value etc. But having been on the 'other side,' I also understand <i>why</i> it's happened, because I have to admit, the news didn't surprise me. <br />
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In the early/mid 90’s before I joined Lloyds Bank as a Manager, I was Sales Manager then Regional Training Manager for Lloyds Bank Insurance Services – a wholly owned subsidiary of the bank. In essence it was my job to sales manage (and train) branch staff, from counter and enquiries staff to Senior Managers, how to sell insurance.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5dZdJoHiWwm44Hy42xODHfHNSxAjvKpCxG2WH-fOxXuj7fbhWfWsYKojSO33h0V6LxZfGBzE_OpedXVujZX_u4SBDyKDoZy1Jk8W0RxI7YfFUMdeEKD1otJxmszOPsELDQxhUmh3PDBz/s1600/lloydstsblogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="120" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd5dZdJoHiWwm44Hy42xODHfHNSxAjvKpCxG2WH-fOxXuj7fbhWfWsYKojSO33h0V6LxZfGBzE_OpedXVujZX_u4SBDyKDoZy1Jk8W0RxI7YfFUMdeEKD1otJxmszOPsELDQxhUmh3PDBz/s200/lloydstsblogo.jpg" /></a></div>Branches had targets for <i>everything</i>; Overdrafts, lending, mortgages, numbers of personal loans, amount of loans, insurance take-up for mortgages and loans, freestanding insurance products, credit cards, bad debts... I won’t go on - you get the message. <br />
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Much time and training went into maximising every customer interaction, face to face and phone call, or ‘opportunity.’ Monitoring of leads, interviews and results, making sure staff didn't miss anything and were proactive. I observed interviews and coached. Staff sat in my interviews so I could demonstrate techniques. What I’m trying to show here is how sales and revenue were part of the culture and way of life. Back then, it was a struggle to get some of the old dinosaur staff to sell, especially the Senior Managers but slowly it dawned on people that working in a bank was no longer a ‘job for life.’ <i>Everyone</i> had to share in the sales effort, including cashiers and enquiries clerks who were expected to pick up snippets in conversations with customers, to identify leads, introduce them to an 'advisor.' There was constant resistance from staff who walked the fine line between providing customer service and giving help and advice, whilst at the same time increasing sales. Many staff hated the changes but their jobs depended on it. If you didn’t adapt to the changing ethos, you wouldn't survive. <br />
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As the pressure to grow sales revenue increased, targets got higher and higher, and everything and anything was tried to improve results; Competitions, rewards, tickets for sports events, holidays. Other gimmicks like ‘points made prizes’ (the more you sold, the more points you got, the bigger the prizes.) Clever incentives introduced a competition element, playing people off against each other. Successful individuals were hailed saviours; talisman of success, to be admired, and to aspire to. Branches were revered as the chosen ones, their methods studied, simulated, and best practise ideas spread across the network.<br />
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Nowadays, there can't be anyone who works in a branch who doesn't accept sales and targets as part of the job (even if they don’t like it.) In some cases branches have been de-skilled to the point that there are few skills left at all, only sales people. And I'm not knocking this. Being of this 'new breed' was the reason I was recruited all those years ago. It hasn't got any easier over the years for staff in branches. It doesn’t matter that times are tough in the economy, jobs are insecure, money is tight, customers don't have the disposable income etc etc. Branch targets are still there. In fact, more than ever there is <i>huge</i> pressure to increase sales revenue. Overdrafts and financial worries facilitate loans, and ‘talking up’ loans to increased amounts. Further advances may need to be secured against property, and re-mortgages. With an increased chance of redundancy and stress-related illness, there’s never been a more necessary time to have insurance. So the demand for loans won’t diminish. However people must see that when jobs, careers prospects, salaries, bonuses are inextricably linked to performance and achieving targets, it's <i>going</i> to be open to mass mis-selling. If a failure to meet targets means bank staff lose take-home pay, is it any wonders misconduct is widespread, and systemic?<br />
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The debate will continue to run but I wanted to show you a slightly different perspective and that you might see how hard it must be, trying to do what’s best for the customer, selling to their needs, when you have to balance reaching targets and surviving in a dog eat dog world. <br />
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I don't see obvious solutions. The above is the reality and unless banks stop the hard sell culture and have a major about turn on targets, bonuses, prizes and other incentives for staff to meet sales targets and shift the emphasis back onto customer service, I don’t think it will ever improve. <br />
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Sorry, I’ve got on my soap box a little there but with the recent revelations it gives a chance to voice something that's been glaringly obvious to me for years! I won't say any more as I have some very dear friends who still work for the bank;)<br />
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Anyway, I hope you liked the newsworthy blog. Let me know <i>your</i> news. And for now, I'd better get back to the novel...<br />
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Until another day<br />
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Bye for now<br />
xx<br />
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<i>PS - As most of you may know, Google's Blogger platform went down for a day. It erased most of my Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning comments to this post - at least twenty of them, and I can't remember for the life of me who you all were. Sorry ;)</i>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-61191481845575868532011-04-28T12:39:00.003+01:002011-07-13T00:42:53.409+01:00'X' is for ... eXcuse meI deliberated how to do this; my final post of the A-Z challenge. I’m sorry fellow bloggers, but I have the chance to go away to the mother-in-law’s caravan in Wales today, and after two weeks of kids and Easter Holidays, and ongoing health problems, I need a few days out. <br />
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<i>‘Me’ time.</i> I've been likened to a hermit in the past. It's a good job those close to me understand. Hubby is home for the double bank holiday weekend and able to manage the boys, domestic chores, and animals. I shall be tucked away at a quiet caravan park that nestles between the Welsh hills, somewhere between Devil's Bridge and Aberystwyth and has no internet connection or mobile reception. <i>Peace and quiet. Solitude.</i> Most importantly, there's a TV set, squidgy sofa and no interruptions so I may watch the Royal Wedding coverage to my little hearts content without fear of depriving the boys of SpongeBob SquarePants or playing the Wii! <br />
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In between waving my Union Jack, I have plenty of time to reflect. Plan. Write. I’ve hardly done anything on my current WIP and time is running away until the deadline for the <a href="http://www.romanticnovelistsassociation.org/index.php/join/new_writers_scheme">Romantic Novelist's NWS.</a><br />
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For those who may have been interested in my last three A-Z posts:<br />
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<b>X … was going to be for - X rated.</b> Is it just me, but I blush at the mere thought of writing sex scenes? Notoriously difficult to write, I have managed a few saucy lines in my current WIP although I'm not brave enough to share them with you at the moment. I may post them when I return, to see what you think ;)<br />
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<b>Y ... was for YOU. </b><br />
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It’s funny how you meet people. I’ve said it many times over the years. A few weeks ago I was lethargic and struggling with confidence, motivation and health problems. Feeling particularly lack lustre, and defunct of mojo, I made my usual visit to the lovely <a href="http://talliroland.blogspot.com/">Talli Roland’s blog</a>. She always cheers me up! I saw the A-Z challenge was starting the following day and from somewhere, someone enthusiastic (and a little bonkers) whom I recognised as me in a past life waved madly in the background, and urged, ‘Yes, I can do that!’I dared myself to do a blog every day, to get me back in front of the laptop every day, focusing instead of drifting aimlessly day to day, achieving nothing and increasingly frustrated that my novel was not progressing. Writer’s write. It’s as simple as that. I see that now after meeting all of you; listening to your tips, ideas, work ethic, and receiving your words of support and encouragement have made me feel alive again. <i>Seriously.</i> I can’t tell you how glad I am that I did the A-Z challenge.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QvCoC_9pgrs/TblPCEAgP8I/AAAAAAAABKA/avxLtxARrqs/s1600/A-ZApril.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="190" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QvCoC_9pgrs/TblPCEAgP8I/AAAAAAAABKA/avxLtxARrqs/s200/A-ZApril.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Thank you to <a href="http://tossingitout.blogspot.com/">Arlee Bird</a> and all the other hosts for your efforts.<br />
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This brings me to...'Z'<br />
<b>'Z' is for … Z end…</b><br />
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It wasn’t that I couldn’t think of 'Z' words. I could think of several, but when I considered that this would be the last blog in the A-Z challenge, nothing made the grade for ‘Z’ - the final letter, the end, the finale - and so seeing the significance, it seems appropriate that’s how I finish. <br />
I got to the end. <br />
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I had a little goal when I started to get over 100 followers… and hey, look at me. That’s not <i>really</i> important. What I love about this challenge is that I've met some new and really diverse, versatile, funny, thoughtful, quirky bloggers, and some cyber friends to remain with me as we continue our journey, together, to publication.<br />
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So there you are; one post that covers the last three letters of the A-Z post. I may be bending the rules to suit myself but I don’t consider I’ve failed the challenge by posting my last two days in with this post. Looking back to a month ago, I wasn’t sure then I would even get past the first couple of days. Who’d have thought it, eh? <i>You can do anything if you set your mind to it.<br />
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I'll be back very soon but in the meantime, think of me, dressed in red, white and blue on Friday. The rain will no doubt be banging down on the roof of the caravan, and sheep bleating away in the distance, drowning out the trumpeting of the Blues and Royal Dragoons. But I’ll be waving my flag madly, and toasting a mug of British tea to you all…<br />
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Until another day<br />
Bye for now<br />
xxBluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2663984644645838645.post-31381301553605514642011-04-27T05:35:00.005+01:002011-05-06T09:55:51.909+01:00'W' is for ... writer, and whether I'm oneI don’t suppose I’ll be the only blogger participating in the A-Z challenge that will post ‘W’ for ‘Writer's,' but am the only one who has a slight niggle inside about calling myself a writer?<br />
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It's hard to call yourself a writer when you don't have anything published. <br />
If we're going to be precise, I suppose I'm a wannabe writer. I write, that's what writer's do (granted, I might be doing more blogging than writing at the moment - lol) but as a rule, I write every day. In fact,my family will tell you I'm a full time writer and sit at the laptop 24/7. That's not strictly true. I sleep in between. And eat. I just don't get paid for writing, yet, although I can't think of a writer I've met yet, who does it for the money. <br />
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I've written a novel. It wasn't good enough so I've re-written it. Three times at the last count. And I've started another. Well, I have the first couple of chapters. Then there are the jotted ramblings, characters, settings for another, I don't know how many, novels. <br />
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I can't tell you how frustrating it was when I had my <a href="http://gonnabepublishedoneday.blogspot.com/2010/10/progress.html">latest flare up and subsequent surgery </a>and couldn't write. There were times when I thought I might go seriously mad! I have to write or I become irritable and grumpy, and bored, and my brain won't shut down when I go to bed. <br />
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There’s nothing I prefer to do than write. If I was shipwrecked on a desert island, I'd need my laptop. <i>Me and my best friend</i>. <br />
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But then I can never be lonely while I have an internet connection, and the company of all of you lovely people, and most of you, other writers. You're the only people who really 'get' me. We get each other. <br />
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Writing is not just about being published. It's about a way of life - living, breathing, and sleeping writing. That's why I was up at 4.30am this morning, typing this. Sometimes, you have to give in to the inspiration for the next blog, or the next few paragraphs of the book. <br />
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Whenever I meet anyone and they ask me what I do for a living I rush to tell them that I had to retire because of ill health and I don't work. Sometimes I add quietly that I write, I'm working on my novel. I usually have two responses. 'Oh, I've always wanted to write a novel,' is quite common. I smile inwardly when I hear this, and ponder whether they've ever sat, day after day, night after night, typing, editing, crafting, toiling, all for a few sentences, which if they're still not good enough will be cut anyway. <br />
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The other comment I get, fires my belly, and spurs me on. <br />
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'Good for you,' they'll say. 'I wish I could write. Let me have a copy when you're published, will you?'<br />
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At this point, I'll relay the tale to hubby.<br />
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'Well, I'm not a writer, yet,' I say.<br />
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'Yes, you are,' he responds, then he rolls his eyes at the dishes stacked up on the kitchen worktop, and turns the oven on to make his own tea...<br />
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Until another day<br />
Bye for now<br />
xx<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEnyjfEvXFY/Tbed9z8ogMI/AAAAAAAABIw/I4VLy5G8Lv0/s1600/mock10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="369" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QEnyjfEvXFY/Tbed9z8ogMI/AAAAAAAABIw/I4VLy5G8Lv0/s400/mock10.jpg" /></a></div>Bluestocking Mumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01502764742097142372noreply@blogger.com33