Jarmara's Update on Novel

These pictures were taken in 1970's from the top of the water mill where I grew up

As you can see by the progress I’ve made with my novel it’s on the slow side of slowly. This is mainly because I’m writing a science fiction, which is set in Victorian England.

When your novel is set in the past it makes sense to try to get as close to the true facts as possible within the boundary of fiction as many readers are very knowledgeable these days. If something is too unbelievable the reality within your story then falls apart and your reader may lose interest in your book.

I like to keep the basic elements of my work true to life. Real things within their natural timeline i.e. telephones were in use within my timeline, though, they were still in their infancy as well as the motor car. The concept and understanding of my storybook people to such items are well within their understanding, thus allowing you to bend the rules and elaborate on such things. So you could have your character inventing mobile phones without taking it to far out of their understanding, but they might not understand Ipods.

Science fiction allows you to look into the future, where Steampunk allows you to look into the past with our technical understanding on what the Victorian/Edwardian scientist's minds would've make of our modern day inventions.

Now you can understand why it is taking me so long with my research into when things were invented, and whether I can use them in my story or not. I was lucky enough to pick up a wonderful book called ‘The Inventions that have changed the World’ from a charity shop. The lady in the shop said when I went to pay for it. ‘It’s such an interesting book I’ve had trouble trying to put it down.’ I know exactly what she means. Every time I pick it up to check up on something I find myself losing track of what I was looking up, as I’m drawn into other far interesting facts. Did you know….

Air-conditioning was developed in the USA in 1902

Antiseptics was first used successfully in surgery by Joseph Lister in Glasgow in 1865.

Battery, the first electric battery invented by the physicist Alessandro Volta in Italy 1800

Blinds were first used in Britain in 1769

Blood Transfusion the first success in Britain in 1825.…

Oh dear, I'm sorry about that now... It’s all right, I’ve closed the book now. So, what else was it I was going to tell you… Oh yes, there is, at the moment, an exhibition at the Oxford Museum of Science of the Steampunk concept for those of you who haven’t heard of Steampunk yet.

And now for my naughty little white lies.... Joise guessed right.

1)I’m not that fat though like most women of my age I’m not the weight I once was, and I’ll say no more. Only I wish I was size 12 again instead of 14.

2)Wow, I wish I could read ‘War and Peace’ in an hour just think how many of the other great books I have on my ‘must read before I die’ list I could get through in a day…;-)

3)Yes, it is true… all True! In the late 1970’s my mother, sister and I lived in the centre of a town in an old watermill cottage, near a main road. On one side the river ran with a wide stretch of open fields on the other a football field then the main road and roundabout. At night the mill was quite dark though in the distance you could see the lights on the main road which went up over the bridge which crossed the river. The bridge was high because the land is well- known to flood after heavy rain.On this particular night, my mother had gone out of the back of the house to collect wood for our open fire. We heard her scream and then she came running into the living room shouting about everything was covered in glowing green light.

Together, my sister and I crept out the back of the cottage and saw nothing. My mother kept on insisting that there was something out there, when the bright light lit up the front yard.

We all rushed outside and looked up to see the whole of the mill, the cottage and the big house bathed in an luminous green light, but we couldn't see where it was coming from as there wasn’t any airplane or helicopter insight. As we stood staring up into the night sky, my sister's boyfriend and mine arrived on their motorbikes followed by a police bike.My first thought was that our boyfriends had been racing on their bikes, but when the policeman got off his bike and came over, he said, “I’ve been watching from the bridge and wondered if you were aware that your house and the other buildings here, have been glowing bright green.

I said ‘we didn’t know what was causing it.’ When it happened again, and we all stood there bathe in the green light for about a minute and then it was gone. The policeman never said another word, he just got on his bike and went. We all went indoor and never spoke about it again. BTW.. The light was never reported in any of the local newspapers at the time.

Some twenty-five years later, one Christmas, I was taking my mother over to my sister for the Christmas holidays when my mother and I saw some strange lights in the evening sky. My mother commented on them and I told her just to get into the car and forget about them. Two days later, while we were all sitting in my sister’s living room. My sister’s friend read a piece from the local paper about a UFO sighting over our town on the night I had picked up our mother. Mum said 'that’s just what we saw, wasn't it.'

The friend said, Why don't you phone the paper tell them what you saw?'

I said, No way... I wasn't going tell anyone about UFO or anything else like it. That evening was the first time, my sister, mother and I spoke about our close encounter back in the 70’s and the mystery of the green light.

The way I see it, if the policeman never wanted to talk about that night, why would I…. I swear on my much beloved’s life 'the truth is out there'.... Only this one, keeps it to herself.

4)Britney Spears isn’t my best friend. I’m sure she's a lovely girl, but I wouldn’t shave my head to let the world know I’ve lost the plot and need help.

5)I’m sure I have Fairy Folk at the bottom of my garden, but they are very secretive creatures so I can’t put my hand on my heart and swear to that one.

6)My middle name isn’t Agnes, though the name Jarmara is linked to the name Agnes Waterhouse.

Best wishes,

J

And now for something completely different

First, I would like to thank Debs for kindly awarding me wonderful award.

The rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you.
4. Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself and at least one outrageous truth.
5. Nominate 7 creative writers who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.

As with all awards I have to name names to who I would love to pass this award onto:

Colette For being there and being a great online friend.

Diane For believing one can if you keep on believing.

Susan For know what it's like to have your book in print and wait at a book signing for your fans

Rare Lesser Spotted For his outlook on the most interesting time in our lives.

Alan For his insight in to life across the water

Akasha For her dark and interesting ways.

Reg For being a Welsh freind to an English woman, when she needs one...;-)

So here we go with my interesting facts about little olde me....

1) I’m in the Guinness book of records for being the fattest woman still alive.

2) I once read War and Peace by Tolstoy within a hour.

3) I’ve had a close encounter with the alien kind when I was in my late teens which was witness by a motor cycling policeman.

4) My shoe size is fourteen and half but I don’t like to talk about it when out walking.

5) Britney Spears is my best friend.

6) I have a family of Fairy folk living at the bottom of my English garden.

7) My middle name is Agnes…

I look forward to reading your comments on this one.

Good luck and I hope can you guess which one is true…..lol

J

Where is Home?

This may seem like a strange question to you, dear readers, but let me explain. I live in England and I’m English.

Sorry, if you already know that, but when you have someone question your knowledge of your own birthplace you are left feeling that you should explain yourself to others.

I had an insurance man come to call. He had taken over from my own insurance man, who had left the company. This new man was nice enough but after introducing himself and realising he couldn’t sell me any more insurance we got chatting about where he originally came from.

“From Nigeria.” Then he went on to explain that his family still lives there and mother runs a school. When he goes home, his mother always asks if he has been to church lately. “If you ever come with me to visit my mother you must tell her that I go to church every Sunday.” He laughed. As we chatted on about the difference between our two countries. I made a comment about the English people are too frightened to comment on other people from around the world who come to this country as it might be seen as being racist.

He laughed, “But, you’re British.”

“No, I’m English… I was born in England and I live in England.”

“No, you live in Britian.”

I took a deep breath and said, Britain is the collective name for the island in which I live, but I’m English.

This made me wonder just how the English are viewed by others, are we seen as being only as British and nothing more now. Are we only recognised as a language spoken by others.

At work, we had a large number of Polish workers, though many have left now, I’m not sure whether they have returned to Poland or moved on. One of the workers who has been with us for about three years and who I have spoken to often, came into the stores while I was waiting to be served. “Hello, how are you?”

“ So, So, doing a s**ty job, for low pay.”

“Oh,” I laughed, “glad to hear your English has improved greatly. Well, that just goes to show the streets of England are not paved with gold.” I laughed, “You could look around for another job and who knows, you could become a millionaire in no time at all. ”

He grimaced and said, “I never wanted to come to this country in the first place when I have a decent country of my own.”

I was lost for words… What do you say when someone has knocked not only the place where you work, but the country you were born in. I asked another Polish worker, if he felt the same. I explained that I can understand the loyalty to one’s own country, but to come to work in a country you don’t want to be in, why?

The 2^nd one explained he found our two cultures to be very different, and found the English to be very insincere people. He said, we say things we don’t mean like I love you, I’m sorry and I hate you etc.

The words ‘I love you,’ he would only say to his wife and family. And as for the word, ‘Hate’ the English don’t know the real meaning of the word. Then he went on to talk about what had happened to Poland in the 2^nd World War and how the world had forgotten about Poland when it was under Russian rule even in the 1990’s. I know the Polish people suffered during the War, but this is a man in his mid-thirties. I just found it amazing that he should still be marked by something that happened sixty-five years ago and before he was born.

I find it hard sometimes to understand how my small country should be called on by larger countries to make huge sacrifices by our young men and women. Even now, the price this country is paying for by the lives that are torn apart by the wars around the world, it’s our men and women who are the first to step up to the firing line and lay down theirs lives for others.

As you are all aware the small country of Madeira is suffering the worst wet weather in a hundred years. My dearest friend, who I have worked with for fourteen years is from Madeira. Both her and her husband were born on the island and came to this country in their early teens when they met and married. A’s husband ‘L’ had gone over to stay in their house on Madeira about a month ago and ‘A’ with two of her other friends and our work colleague. They had all gone for a long weekend and returned a weekend ago, leaving her husband there. I rang ’A’ on Sunday to make sure her husband and family were all okay. The good news was she had heard from her husband, but found it hard to get hold of her brother and sister who still live on the island. On Monday, she told us everyone was fine and the weather had knocked out the power and communication, but a message had been passed among her family in England to her that everyone was fine.

Today, at work, while working together I asked ’A’ if she would be taking her spade with her and going over to Madeira to help her country get back on it feet.

“No I won’t.” she said sharply.”

“Oh, but surely, you should not ask what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country.”

She laughed, and said. “This is my country, not Madeira.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Our other colleague, ‘C’ who had spent the weekend with ‘A’ brought some work to us and I asked her, ’Would you take your spade to Madeira and help them repair the damage.’

‘Yes, of course I would. Fight them on the beaches.’

I laughed, ’Spoken like a true Englishman,’ said I.

‘C’ turned to ’A’ and said, “You would go home to help your country, won’t you, A’.

Sheepishly, ‘A’ said, ‘No, my country’s here.’

This makes me wonder, when the chips are down and England’s back is up against the wall. Just how many of the people who come to this country to live would remain when the going gets tough.

I'm not shy about being sincere in standing

up for my country.

I'm proud to be English.

It's True! Slush Piles do have bottoms...;-)

Today, I had a surprise in the post. You know how it is when you see a self-addressed envelope. Your heart holds a beat and you rip it open in some vain hope that this is the one. This one will be the bearer of good news.

As I tore madly at the envelope, I paused for a moment trying to rack my brains as to when I last sent anything out with a self-addressed envelope.

I sent the last two short stories via email as well as my letters to magazines. As I pulled out the contents it was the synopsis and first three chapters to my novel.

No, not my new novel, that's still work in progress, Silly, my first novel.

Yes, I can tell you I was surprised and even more so when I looked it up in my records book and found out I sent it on the 9^th June 2008.

My first novel has gone through a few changes since then, including two title changes and three big rewrites.

So all I can guess is the publishing company has just finally hit rock bottom of their slush pile and decided to put me out of my misery.

Only I wish they could have seen the bewildered look on my face when I saw what it was and said, ‘hmmm, I can’t remember sending that to them.’

It just goes to show you when forget about what you have sent out and move on to your next project it makes rejection so much more easier even after one year and ten months later.

Good luck with all your writing project for this weekend.

J

A Slice of Life..

It’s funny how some people’s logic works, how they rationalise things… I shall give you an example. As you all are aware it is illegal to make copies of films or music DVD or CD to sell on. This is theft, and so too is buying them knowingly, which is also an arrestable offence.

So what is the point of my posting?

Well, where I work, there’s someone who makes and sells illegal copies of films at £3.00 a copy.

I won’t buy them, no more than I would stick my hand into someone’s pocket and help myself to their wage packet at the end of a working month.

That’s stealing, in anyone's book.

But that’s what happens every time you buy a fake copy of a film or music CD or DVD. You are stealing money from the writers, producers, actors, musicians etc. everyone making a living from the film and music industry.

Yes, times are tough for us all, we all want to save money, but at what cost to the enjoyment of all.

And the guy who makes the illegal film DVDs does he worry that it is stealing… Obviously not, but he does worry about theft though as he never leaves the discs in their boxes in case someone steals them.

Now that did made me smile ;-)

Have a great weekend, my dear readers.

J

I'm in Print!

Okay, calm down now and hold back on the celebrations. Please put that champers bottle back in the cupboard, it isn’t my novel, nor the short story. It’s just another letter.

I know, I shouldn’t knock it. You know the saying from small acorns…. Mighty oaks and all that, but I find it hard to get excited about another letter. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased. It shows me, I’ve something interesting enough to say that the magazine editor has chosen to publish it. Maybe, I should see it as a sign I can write non-fiction as in the past, I’ve had five articles published in mainstream magazines, or I could take up photography as my dream job with the large number of pictures I’ve had published.

So could I give up my dream of writing a novel.

Oh no, I couldn’t.

I’ve put too many hours in to writing a novel to take the easy route out. I sent the letter to the magazine after writing a posting for my blog and thinking, ‘hey, this is quite good, I think I’ll try sending it to such and such magazine.’

Having the letter published has gives me a much needed lift and that’s wonderful.

Good luck with your writing project this weekend.

Thank you, Diane for letting me know my letter was published.

J

Book Madness in our Household

Every year my much beloved and I go to the Essex Book Festival Launch to meet the authors and, at least, one or maybe two of the evening talks.

This year we are looking forward to meeting up with the author of 21 family saga books set in and round the East End of London, the lovely Elizabeth Lord. We have met her twice before as well as chatting with her on the phone. I find it very interesting to be able to talk with someone who is so well established in the business.

At the launch, the authors, we are looking forward to meeting are Penelope Lively, Francis Wheen, Tony Klinger, and Nick Ardley, and two Dutch authors, Otto de Kat and Tommy Wieringa. For the meeting the author evening, we have selected to go and see Joanne Harris who wrote the Whitbread-shortlisted book, ‘Chocolat’

As the Essex Book Festival is on the 4^th March, my much beloved has been busy collecting together all the books by the different authors to take along to get them signed. As much as I love my Beloved I do feel one should have read the book before you ask the author to sign them unless they have only just had the book published. I have a collection of books beside my bed, which is my normal pile of the next-to- be- read books. These are made up of books I have bought from all sorts of different places, online, charity shops, car boot sales and friends or family have given me and tend to be books I’m looking forward to reading. My pile is growing rapidly everyday after our post lady has delivered the post as the books my Beloved has ordered arrives and he adds them to my bedside pile for me to read. I wouldn’t mind as much if they were books he was looking forward to reading, but I need to explain here. My beloved isn’t a reader, he will read one book every two years if I’m lucky so for him to read eighteen books by 4^th March is madness. It normally takes me a week to read a book, but as you know, I’m busy writing my own novel and hoping to hit my deadline of 90k for the first draft by the end of June, which means I’m not doing as much reading at the moment.

So dear readers, may I ask, do you think it’s only right you should have read the books before asking the authors to sign them, or is it okay to have the books signed and read them at your own leisure?

J

A Thing of Such Beauty.... Maybe?

It’s funny how names of certain things can conjure up such wonderful pictures in your mind.

A rose by any other name is still a rose. But is it, I wonder?

You could call a child, Rose and still see the beauty of the flower within the velvet touch of the child’s cheek. The sweet perfume of its freshly washed hair. The pink flush across the child’s brow and maybe the thorniness of the child’s bad mood.

But what if I said the word butterfly? What image is created in your mind?

A thing of delicate beauty. The lightness of its flight around your summer garden. Bright summer days with clear blue skies and the magic of childhood as you chase the butterflies between the roses in your parents’ garden.

To me, a butterfly has never been a thing to be feared, but something to marvel and be in awe of as it goes through its life cycle. From a small egg to a caterpillar and then finally into a beautiful butterfly in such a short lifetime. A butterfly is a fragile thing, which can be easily crushed between your fingers…

Never could I, in my wildest dreams, imagine that the word ‘Butterfly’ could fill me with such dread and horror as it did today. When we were told the news about our dear colleague who was taken ill just before he completed thirty-two years working for our company. He didn’t have a stroke after all, but has been diagnosed with a brain tumour known as a butterfly tumour.


Now I understand the power and strangeness words can play in our lives.

May your life bring you much joy and happiness always, my dear, dear friends.

J