Old soldiers never die...
It seems like deja vu. I had to take another cat to the vets today to put him to sleep. Smudge was a wiry old black cat, who had appeared one day at my back garden in MK as a mangy stray, stealing scraps out of the bowl.
Never accepted by the others, but adored by me as a tough old cookie and one of life's fighters. Three years ago, I was told that he was on the way out and he hung on gamely checking out other gardens, lashing out at my outraged other mogs and settling on my lap, tearing holes in my trousers as his claws began to stop retracting, with his motor running so loud. in fact, he used to purr so loud I had to throw him out of the bedroom, as I couldn't get to sleep.
He has been slowly fading and over the last few weeks his roaming area has decreased as he lost hi ability to jump. Today I found him spreadeagled in front of the food bowl, the old boy's legs had run their last race.
He was a deaf old cat and had a crinkly cauliflower ear where him and panther had bashed each other once and the blood hardened. He was a real old character. I miss you old boy
Yahoo Thoughts
Got the blog onto Yahoo, it's very easy! My wife thought I'm mad, but if I do manage to get something published it is a form of communication and publicity.
I'm miffed with Aile actually as I managed to sneak in a 'BRAWN' t-shirt, commemorating the stupendous Welsh win over France this year. She loved it so much, it went straight into her wardrobe. I should feel it is a compliment, Aile has already started shouting at the TV like me at these games. I think she particularly likes the wingers... We'll get her voting Plaid Cymru yet!
Friday runs slowly
Friday does sometimes... Sitting in a stuffy office waiting for a fire to fight. Waiting for miracles, it would seem.
Just finished typing Chapter 2 of book2 and it's hard work. Also a bit emotional, I look forward to the plot developing and the son begines to grow up. I have 10 ideas in total for a saga. 3 novels for each generation, plus a prequel. Each generation has a different focus, employment and location. It's a case of taking in the research when you find it, I studied a book on WW1 memories the other day and it generated some ideas which would not come to use until book 5. However, you have to note them as they go on. Dreams fade and daydreams are a good source of drama.
No news from the publishers. I feel pessimistic, don't know what I will do next if it comes through as a rejection. Try another? Oh well, we'll see.
My good friends Mark and Gerlinde are on the verge of emigrating to Austria. It is sad to see them go, but a wonderful opportunity for them to start afresh and make a new life away from the rat race of the South east of England. My novel is set in 1880's, where the lead industry was in decline. Faced with mass unemployment and limited chances of being hired at another mine, many looked to emigrate. it must have been daunting, the community was such that moving away was hardly the norm. Communications were also more difficult. Travel was cost prohibitive and slow and not everyone could write. Internet? Yeah, right... Good luck to them anyway.
My fiercest critic!
The Turn of the Wheel - A synopsis
Synopsis - first crack at it...
I remember my first day down the mine. 1873 it was and I’d been four years working in the dressing mill before Dad decided I was ready.
In late nineteenth century Cardiganshire, the changes of the Industrial Revolution have been slow reach the many lead mines. Here, horse is still king and water powers the heavy machinery that run these grey operations that form grey scars on the sides of the
rolling hills and valleys.
Owain Lloyd is fourteen, when he starts a new life as a miner at the Frongoch mine, working in a team with his father and a Cornish father and son; Ben and David Treveglos. Owain’s dreams of finally achieving manhood are swept aside by the harsh reality of the lot of a working man. He finds a world of darkness, bad air and dust and the ever present nightmares that are the miner’s lot.
He befriends Ceridwen Hughes, daughter of a local pariah who was blamed for a mine accident and has nothing but bitterness remaining in his heart. This friendship leads to Owain having to make choices as to who, where and how his life will unfold.
Weaving fiction with history and told in his own words, the first tale of the saga of Owain Lloyd paints a picture of the changing way of life during the late nineteenth Century and the human aspects of a forgotten industry and the people who lived and died in it.
Lazy typing issues
Maybe I'm a bit of a lazy sod, but I am having trouble typing this up. I have typed Chapter 1 of the sequel and have written longhand up to 1,000 words of Ch 3. It's the way I do things, the typing up represents the first edit. What I write isn't exactly what gets typed. Some things get picked up or changed. I also then do a read through and then at the end a continuity read or seven...
But then I spend all day on the computer, typing e-mails and my typing skills go no further than my two index fingers, so it is hard work. Maybe the sun is shining and I'm dreaming of sitting in a sun chair sipping Sangria.
Actually, that is a funny one. When you are in the writing 'zone' you can disassociate yourself from your surroundings. The characters were working deep in a mine about 1,000 ft underground. It's hot, the air is stale. They are stripped down to the waist and one of them has to fan the time candle to keep it going in the stuffy atmosphere. Meanwhile, I'm sitting by the pool in 31 C. Some similarities there heat, stripped to waist, water. But Owain Lloyd never sipped Sangria in his life. It was a hard life in them days...
By the way, a quick tip from Slovenia - the bambus. chilled red wine with orangeade. Simple and yet so effective. Others try Cola. But none of this helps me type. AAAAARRRRGHHHHH!
Here we are again
Just returned from a week's sojourn in tenerife. The weather was remarkably similar to Cardiganshire. 30 centigrade, constant sunshine... sorry, wrong script.
Anyway, managed to gpolish off first two chapters of book 2 and am beavering away on Ch.3
Feel quite recharged now and the ccol cloudy weather back here is almost a tonic! it's a strange world.
