Monthly Archives: May 2023

Which author (famous or not) is your greatest writing influence?….hmm…

“Which author (famous or not) is your greatest writing influence?”

That’s the question I stumbled across when I was scrolling through Facebook recently. (Yes, I know I should have been writing and not wasting time scrolling!) I paused to think…

I went and stood in front of my bookshelves and gazed at the familiar titles, remembering scenes and characters from many of them fondly.

After a few minutes, I realised that I can’t single out just one author’s name in order to answer the question.

I drew up a list.

Here it is along with my reason for choosing said author.

Paulo Coehlo -for his encouragement via The Alchemist to chase my dreams.

Stephen King – for his encouragement to be a “storyteller” first and foremost.

Anita Shreve – for showing me the importance of a good house in the story. She has written several novels set in the same house at different points in time. Great books.

Diana Gabaldon – for teaching me that a story will be as long as it will be and a series will last as long as it needs to in order to tell the whole story.

John Irving – for teaching me its ok for your characters to have flaws, obsessions, bad habits and personality quirks. Love his books!

JRR Tolkien– for showing me the beauty of the use of language itself to tell a story. Lord of the Rings is the best written book I have ever read.

Kathryn Stockett– for inspiring me to write and develop characters you can hear in your head as you’re reading. If you’ve read The Help, hopefully you’ll have heard Aibileen talking to you.

There are countless others whose word has touched me in so many ways. At the heart of this creative path I’m walking is my fundamental love of books and a good story with good characters.

One other author I would mention here is Gregory David Roberts, for reminding me to persevere with writing the story, to keep going no matter what adversity you face and not to give up on yourself. If you’ve not read his debut novel Shantaram, I’d encourage you to add it to your “To Be Read” list. It’s a tome at around 900 pages but it’s a fabulous read! I first read it about 15 years ago and am currently re-reading it, something I rarely do with books.

If the books you’ve read haven’t inspired you or touched your soul yet, perhaps you’ve just not stumbled across the right storyteller. Keep searching. Keep reading. Or even better, try writing.

The world needs more storytellers.

And , yes, I know my bookshelves are chaotic! Ha Ha

Spend Memorial Day weekend with a free ebook

An early morning mist had rolled in off the ocean creating an eerie atmosphere along the beach. It had been early when Lori had crept out of the house to go for a walk. She did some of her best thinking alone down on the sand. Over the months her confidence and her physical strength had grown allowing her to walk along the shoreline without a constant nagging fear of falling. With the broad base plate attached, she still used her cane for support, psychological as much as physical. She had left Jake snoring loudly in bed, his long limbs spread out over more than his fair share of the mattress. When she had come down the hall, she had found Rich asleep on the lounge floor, his leather jacket serving as a blanket. As she wandered The last two revellers hadn’t even made it indoors. Gary and Scott were dead to the world on the sun loungers outside. Someone had had the good sense to cover them with the fleecy blankets from the sun room. Images of the sleeping rock stars made her smile as she strolled along the sand. This early the beach was deserted, and the pockets of morning mist created her own small private thought bubbles.

This holiday weekend you can download Impossible Depths, book 2 in the Silver Lake series for FREE using the links below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

The Measly Jar of Motivation – Writer’s Block (flash fiction)

 Staring at the writing prompts lying on the desk in front of her, the writer’s mind was blank…totally blank. No stories. No paragraphs. No sentences. No words. Not even any letters. Blank…totally blank.

Was this what writer’s block felt like?

The silence in her mind was eerie. None of her imaginary friends, her characters, were whispering to her.

Had she done something to upset them?

Tiptoeing slowly, she explored the dark corridors of her mind, searching in all the dusty corners for any signs of inspiration.

Nothing….

A noise behind her caused her to turn round. It was the sound of a door closing. There were footsteps scurrying through the dark.

Then she spotted it. Inspiration was hurrying back to her along with two new faces. New characters? As they approached, she could hear them chatting animatedly.

When they reached her, she wrapped them in a huge welcoming hug.

Smiling, the writer picked up her pen and began to write.

An Acrostic Poem for Mental Health Awareness Week 15-23 May 2023 – Anxiety

Another sleepless night

Nausea sweeping through me

Xanax sitting untouched on the nightstand

I will beat this

Every movement’s an effort

Teeth even ache in my jaws

Yesterday still torturing my mind

If you can relate to this short poem, please don’t suffer in silence. There are numerous resources out there to support. I’ll list a few below.

Everyone has mental health, the same way, everyone has physical health and like your physical health, sometimes its in better shape than others. It’s ok not to be ok.

Useful links :

https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/our-work/public-engagement/mental-health-awareness-week

https://www.mind.org.uk/get-involved/mental-health-awareness-week/

https://www.rethink.org/get-involved/awareness-days-and-events/mental-health-awareness-week/

Ten Years Ago Today The Creative Journey Began…

Ten years ago this week, I stopped at the local mall on my way back from work and bought a new A4 notebook and some pens.

Ten years ago today, I sat down on my front doorstep in the early evening sunshine with that notebook and one of the pens and began to write.

It would be weeks…months…before I told anybody what I was attempting to do.

At that time in my life, I knew I had to do something just for me and I decided, after a lot of soul searching, that the time felt right to put pen to paper once more.

As a child and a teenager, right into my twenties, I wrote. I wrote short stories, poems, even the first “book” but marriage and kids came along, and I put the lid back on my pen.

A series of events in both my work and my personal life took its toll on me emotionally, mentally, and physically and I recognised by early 2013 that I needed to do something just for me, something that gave me pleasure, something that relaxed me (that’s very hard to do) and something no one could take away from me.

What I sat down and began to write ten years ago today was what went on to become my debut novel, Stronger Within. The first book in the Silver Lake series. My first born “book baby.”

Now, I’ve written and blogged about this a few times over the years, so I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here.

Through losing myself in the pages of that notebook and countless others over the last ten years, I found myself too.

Writing is one of my key coping mechanisms in life. I journal extensively but writing my book babies is my escape from reality. Over the years, writing has become like oxygen to me. I need it to thrive!

Yes, there are days/evenings when my characters don’t want to play and that’s when I turn my attention to a short story or a poem or a piece of flash fiction.

There have been many occasions when I’ve read over the words that I wrote the night before and scored through them because I wasn’t happy with them.

I’m not a big planner, preferring to write from the heart and go with the flow. I always have key scenes in mind but there’s no detailed chapter plan (in fact splitting the tale into chapters is one of the last things I do), no storyboard, no character profiles. There are numerous post-its and scribbled notes and a handwritten calendar. This “pantser” approach did bite me with Book Baby 3, Bonded Souls, when I realised that I was too far through the timeline for one key scene. I wrote the scene and tried to slot it in where it was meant to be but that fundamentally didn’t work. There was no alternative…I scrapped circa 40k words and re-wrote it. Lesson learned!

Even with my current work in progress, Book Baby 8, I scrapped about 5k words and started it again.

I never actually “throw out” those scrapped words. I neatly put a line through them and start a fresh page.

I’ve kept every word I’ve written for the past 10 years and that includes blogs, short stories, gig reviews, poems…everything! That’s a lot of notebooks!

I’m not big on giving writing advice. Partly because I don’t feel qualified to do so and partly because if you are setting out on your creative journey, it’s YOUR journey so, explore and find your own path that suits your style and your story. Just because one approach works for me doesn’t mean it will work for you or anyone else. Trust in the story.

It’s been a surreal ten years. I can’t actually believe it has been ten years. Where did they go?

It’s also been an incredible ten years. I couldn’t have kept going without the encouragement, love, and support of a group of very special people. (You know who you are.)

My mantra has been a quote one of them shared on social media a long time ago.

Dreams get you started.

Discipline keeps you going.

And dreams do come true!

If you’d told me ten years ago as I sat on my front doorstep with that new notebook and pen that I’d see my name on the cover of a real book, that my words would earn five-star reviews on Amazon and that people from all over the world would read my books, I’d have laughed in total disbelief, but it’s happened…

If reading this is tempting you to pick up your own pen and start out on your own creative journey, DO IT!

There really is no feeling like making that dream come true.

Here’s to the next ten years and beyond!

Flashback Friday – have you met Ellen Lloyd?

Flashback Friday….. meet Ellen Lloyd

The cottage garden was sheltered from the breeze and, with the chimnea blazing, the patio felt cosy and intimate. Lit tealights in old jam jars were scattered around the boundary of the paved area, their flames flickering in the darkness. Plucking a gentle melody, Taylor watched as Nana and Jen brought out bowls of crisps and dips and some beers and cider. He smiled over at Ellen, who was sitting on a pile of cushions beside the fireplace.

“You ok?” asked Taylor, noting that she was staring intently at the flames.

“Never better,” she replied with a relaxed smile. “I was just daydreaming.”

“Ghosts in those flames?”

With a wistful smile, she nodded before confessing, “A year ago I couldn’t have sat here. Couldn’t stand to see flames. My dad helped me over those ghosts. Calmed my fears.”

“Shit! I never thought!”

“It’s fine, Tailz,” assured Ellen warmly. “In fact, it’s more than fine. This is perfect.”

Want to know more? Check out Ellen on Amazon today.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FYHKR44

Continue The Story – Storm (flash fiction)

This is a continue the Continue The Story moment. I wrote and shared the first part way back in November 2021. Here’s the link to jog your memory  – Continue The Story – Fact Or Fiction? (flash fiction) | Coral McCallum

Now to Continue The Story….

“It’s good to see you,” she said after a while.

They’d left the bookstore almost half an hour before and walked a couple of blocks to a bar that Luke had suggested. He’d bought her a large white wine then directed them to one of the few empty tables.

“It’s good to see you too,” he replied with a smile. That smile… her heart melted just a little bit more. “How’ve you been? Looks like the books are doing well.”

“Busy. Books are doing great. Still feels surreal to see them on the shelves,” she replied, trying not to gaze too deeply into his dark brown eyes.

Noticing a lack of rings on her left hand, he reached across the round table to touch the back of her fingers

. “What happened?”

“I found the courage to leave,” she replied quietly. “Been two years since the divorce came through. He’s remarried now.”

“And you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No one,” she half-whispered.

“Ditto,” replied Luke, still holding her hand. “My heart still belongs to…” The sentence petered out unfinished.

It had been five years since they had last met but the chemistry was still there.

“So, why did you base Storm on me?”

Laughing, she replied, “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” His voice was soft. He held her gaze.

“I wanted to fantasise about what might have been,” she confessed openly. “Writing about Storm was the only connection to you that I had left.”

“And, if what might have been, could be?”

The question hung in the air.

She knew her answer could change everything…