They say that life is what happens when you’re making plans. It is true indeed. I’ve made lots of plans in the last couple of years and life happened anyway. What is fabulous about life is that it is always guaranteed to change, so if something feels a little rotten, you can rely on the fact that it won’t always be so—just try and keep your nostrils shut for a while.
As has been glaringly obvious to followers of my blog, I’ve been more away from it than not for quite some time. After blogging almost every day when I started, to panicked zoom throughs a couple of times a year, I apologise for my lengthy absence and comment neglect. Most of my writing plans had to be put aside for a while in favour of learning how to live again, but now it’s time to rejoin the world of blogging and the world in general. I’m going to start in easy with one post a week, and catch up again with the bloggerverse slowly and enjoyably this time.
I have a little pile of completed books that I intended to publish before, but life was too busy happening. It still is very busy happening, only now I’m enjoying it. So I’m going to see what they were all about, edit them, and let them loose soon. Can’t wait to get stuck in. The urge to scribble never leaves no matter what in the world is going on, so a couple of paragraphs were added or changed while those books languished. Writers can’t stop writing, and in the case of my big non-fiction book (which finally seems to be happy with its tenth title), I’m glad that I never published it when I wanted to. It’s grown and morphed as I’ve grown and morphed, and I think that it will be much more helpful to the people out there that it is intended to help. I also have some great projects on the go, both for others and myself, and can’t wait to launch them all.
Anyway—hello again online friends and family. I’m looking forward to hearing all your news again and getting back into writerly chats.
Exciting times ahead as the gorgeous and wise Myrtle returns with her fabulous friends. In the meantime they’ve all learned French and are about to share their new adventures.
The little purple turtle returns!
Myrtle — who lived in our family’s hearts for 28 years, captured the imagination of S. African illustrator Jo Robinson, then, in the last year, charmed thousands of children and adults around the world — is on the move.
First, she returns this autumn as “Vertu”, in French. The text was translated by Myrtle-lovers Jean Long and Jessica Charnock, that creative duo whom you’ve met on this blog.
Here’s Jo’s draft of the cover:
Then Jessica emailed: Would Jo and I permit her to make a wall hanging of Myrtle?
Jo and I were giddy with excitement, of course, and Jessica proceeded to hook the Myrtle the Purple Turtle rug.
And what-do-you-know? Her wall hanging won “honourable mention” at the huge show and conference of the Ontario Hooking Craft Guild last May in our nation’s capital! Congrats, Jessica!
In the just-released Autumn issue…
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It’s a term of respect around here apparently. I’m fine with children calling me Tannie (that’s Aunty in Afrikaans), but I object to anyone who is already grown up aiming that moniker at me. Unless I am their actual aunty. Apart from the fact that writers are ageless—that comes with the territory—there is something deeply insulting being called Tannie by anyone with more wrinkles than me.
Any time anyone over forty says Hello Tannie to me they’re unwittingly heading onto dangerous ground. It will instantly jar me from my semi-permanent mental state of communing with those fabulous folk who populate my books, and elicit a malignant stare, at the very least. I tend to want to inform these elderly but apparently younger than me people of our distinct lack of similar DNA. So far I’ve (mostly) managed to control myself, but it has had me peering in the mirror and wondering what it is about my looks these days that makes me come over as venerable enough to be considered their Tannie. Should I be swopping my denim shorts and purple toenail varnish for a purple hair rinse and twin set jerseys?
Nope. I’ll just do what I do and put it in a book. My very interesting journey of the past couple of years hasn’t left me much time for personal writing, but when the urge does hit too strongly to be ignored I’ve been zooming off to bang out a paragraph or two of my “interesting journey” inspired new fiction book, Mopani Mansions. Even though quite a bit of this trip has been painful or fearful to the max, it’s also taught me to fear less, learn from pain rather than wallow in it, and it’s inspired my weird writerly mind and sense of humour rather than squashed it.
The whacky, weird, precious, or just plain wonderful people who have come into my life in one way or another lately have mostly found themselves arriving in Mopani Mansions, and now of course we will have the coolest, sexiest, and most fabulous Tannie there too. She will be allowed to do all of those terrible things that occurred to me to do every time any aged and arthritic fellow had the temerity to assume I would be honoured to be called Aunty.
I have a couple of launches for my fabulous author clients coming first, but around June this year I’ll be letting Mopani Mansions loose on the world, and also my long ago finished but yet to be edited non-fiction work about living, dying, reality, and all the bits in between. That’s the fabulousness of being a scribbler. You can’t keep us down, and we NEVER get old, no matter how many times we get called Tannie. We can be unicorns forever, and so we will be in our worlds. Read the rest of this entry »
Image Courtesy Pixabay
An ellipsis is three or four dots with spaces in between . . . and an em dash is a long dash, usually made by typing two single (en) dashes — next to each other, usually with no spaces between them and their adjoining words. They are called en or em because of their lengths, m being longer than n. En dashes are usually used as hyphens within particular words, and em dashes are used either within sentences or at the ends of them.
Not all authors have formal degrees in English, and most certainly, not many readers do either. Readers and book clubs that aren’t also writers are very unlikely to have lengthy debates about the correct use of em dashes and ellipses. Unless something is particularly jarring to a reader, they aren’t going to care whether any particular use of an em dash is grammatically…
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Myrtle the Purple Turtle made The List!
Surely, The LIST is the best collection of ‘must-read’ indie books anywhere.
Each book listed here has been recommended, commended or selected by CQI Magazine or the publications respected and trusted literary connections.
The LIST is one publication you will want to constantly refer to when looking for a new book for yourself or as a wonderful and unexpected gift for a friend, colleague, or family member.
I suggest you bookmark The LIST to make re-visiting and reading a sinch in the future.
Got friends… how about sharing The LIST with them?
For notifications about future great publications likeCQI Magazine, and The Gift Collection ‘follow‘ this blog 🙂
Click on the cover image above to read The LIST now
Looking for a darned good short story?
Then check out the Electric Eclectic novelettes, great reads and the perfect way to find your next ‘favourite’ author.
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Wishing all of you a fabulous 2018!
Fabulous TAIL from Jack. 🙂
In the world of the domestic cat, the one thing that is guaranteed to get you in trouble in the neighbourhood is the name your human owner gives you.
Hobson opened his eyes, yawned, stretched and sat up before meticulously grooming his fur and licking his battle wounds.
Since he and his human Geoff had moved into the neighbourhood six weeks back, Hobson literally had to fight for his life almost continuously. His battle scarred ears and the missing fur on his back, along with the severely bitten end of his tail bore testament to the daily scrapping Hobson had to endure.
“Breakfast, come and get it,” Geoff yelled above the noise of the food-blender, which was mashing up his daily liquid energy diet before his morning run.
Hobson scampered down the hallway to the kitchen from where he slept on the end of Geoff’s bed. As usual his human…
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