Tag Archives: #amblogging

It’s Been So Long That My Hearing Has Fully Recovered…….

It’s been seventy two days since my last fix. I’m growing twitchy!

Having checked the calendar, there’s still seventy seven days to go until my next scheduled fix. Tragic!

If my maths are correct that is one hundred and forty nine days without a fix!

Far too long! Far FAR too long!!!

I’ll have completely forgotten my way to the 5.25 train to Glasgow by the time 12 November comes around.

Some of you are possibly scratching your heads and muttering “What’s she wittering about now?”

Those of you who follow this blog and those of you who happen to know me or even on occasion accompany me will have guessed.

I’m suffering from a severe drought of gigs! It’s quietly killing me. My hearing’s been almost perfect for weeks now!

The last was Tremonti at my favourite O2 ABC on 15 June.

My next scheduled gig is Crobot at The Cathouse, Glasgow on 12 November.

Daily I’m keeping my eye on the various social media sites for updates on long hoped for tour news.

I’ve scanned my O2 Academy app looking for potential shows.

I’m scouring the music magazines for tour news on a weekly basis.

(Yes, I know, there are countless bands out there touring and playing fantastic shows but a night out at a gig isn’t a cheap night out and I am perhaps being a little picky on economic grounds.)

My diary where I store concert tickets for up-coming shows is very, very empty. There are only my Crobot tickets for November and my Carnival of Madness tickets for Glasgow for February 2016 (still waiting for the Manchester ones to arrive)

Sighs sadly…….

So until things pick up on the live show front, it’s time to plug in the iPod (ok, ok, it’s always on), attempt not to download too much music (Can you actually have too many tunes?), explore new bands/albums and reflect on the memories of shows gone by.

Here’s a few of the special moments that are keeping me going.

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Yes- Rehoboth Is A Real Place

One question I’ve been asked on numerous occasions since unleashing my Book Baby on the world is – Is Rehoboth a real place?

Yes it is and it’s one of my favourite places on earth.

( https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rehoboth_Beach,_Delaware )

I first visited the small city in the exceedingly hot summer of 1980, during my second family holiday to visit family in the USA. I was only ten years old but the town captured my heart. Little did I know then but it would be twenty four years before I’d be back.

The first time I’d visited the States, I’d been four years old and we’d spent a few days near Ocean City, NJ. Among other memories that stood out for me from that first trip were memories of walking in the cold sand under the boardwalk and of walking on the boardwalk itself. Aged ten, I was keen to see the ocean and the boardwalk again.

During that first trip to Rehoboth, we stayed in a rented house for a week, splitting our beach time between Dewey Beach and Rehoboth Beach. My recollections of the beach near the town of Dewey Beach are that it was beautiful but it reeked of dead smelly horseshoe crabs. There were piles of them at the back of the beach. The smell was awful! My memories of Rehoboth smell much sweeter!

The town beach at Rehoboth was fabulous to the ten year old me. I loved playing in the ocean swell, “jumping waves” with my aunt, and later in the day, visiting the shops up on the boardwalk. A couple of times we came back into town after dinner and walked the boardwalk as the sun set.

Memories of salt water taffy and fudge and of T-shirt shops selling souvenirs and hermit crabs filled my beach dreams for over twenty years.

Roll on until 2004 when I returned to America to visit my relatives but this time I arrived as an adult (well, as close as I’m going to get) and the mother of two small children. I made a special request to visit Rehoboth while we were there.

My memories from 1980 were of clear blue skies and blistering sun. When I returned to town in July 2004, the skies were over cast. By the time my cousin had parked his beaten up old van (there’s a whole story about that van that I’ll save for another day) and sourced the obligatory quarters for the parking meter (yes- they still have parking meters in the centre of town), the heavens had opened and we were all soaked to the skin by the time we sprinted into Hooters for lunch.

It didn’t matter to me in the slightest. Even under the black rain clouds, Rehoboth still looked exactly as it had in my mind for all those years. Whew!

The rain had eased up by the time we’d finished lunch so we strolled down the main avenue and along the boardwalk. Bliss! All the shops looked and felt the same, right down to the hermit crabs in their brightly coloured shells.

Since then it’s become a family pilgrimage, when we are lucky enough to be in the States, to spend a day at the beach then come into town for dinner and a stroll along the boardwalk.

Even the drive down from Philadelphia, down the Coastal Highway, to reach Rehoboth Beach and nearby Cape Henlopen has been a ritual. Dover Downs race track is the first major sign, signalling that you are past the half way point in the journey. Each of us has our own personal landmark that we watch out for as we head towards the ocean. There are numerous, now familiar, landmarks apart from Dover Downs. There’s a particular house with its own hangar and, I believe, its own airstrip, there’s a surf-style shop miles outside town selling all sorts of beach inflatables, there’s the first road sign that says “Beaches”, there’s the sign that says Slaughter Beach (that one always makes me smile. I need to visit there someday) then there’s the Rehoboth Beach water tower.

I can see each and every one of these in my mind’s eye as I type this even though it’s been three years since my last visit. Too long!

A day at the shore usually means hitting the sand south of the town where my cousin can drive his truck down onto the sand (after letting a lot of the air out of the tyres), finding a good spot to sunbathe, fish and play in the ocean swell. A good spot to watch for dolphins. After a day in the sun, we pile into the truck and, after re-inflating the tyres, drive up to the bath house a couple of miles up the road for a shower. The bath house is all part of the experience! Sand- filled luke-warm showers. Black biting flies and mosquitos by the dozen and screaming, whining, tired, sun-burnt kids. It’s a great facility but definitely not one of the highlights of the day! However, it gets all the sand, well most of it, washed out the bits that sand should never be in and freshens you up so you look semi-respectable when you arrive in town.

Every time there’s the same scramble for quarters…you’d think we’d learn! Somehow, between us all, we always find enough. At Boy Child’s request, it’s pizza for dinner with a bowl of cheese fries on the side – sinfully delicious! As for the pizza – well it’s worth travelling 3000 miles for!

I try to steal a few moments down on the beach, imprinting the place in my mind until next time round.

We walk the boardwalk, play tourist in and out of the shops, visit the arcade then head back to the truck as the sun disappears and the quarters run out.

Happy days and precious memories.

My high school English teacher once said to me that one way to make my stories more believable and realistic was to write about places and things that were close to my heart.

When it came to choosing a location for my Silver Lake series, there only ever was one choice – Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.

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Book Baby aka Stronger Within – book one in the Silver Lake series can be found at-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stronger-Within-Volume-Silver-Series/dp/151176709X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1436461771&sr=8-1

My Own Personal Creative Mess

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I stumbled across the above statement on Facebook a few days ago and it raised a smile as I visualised my “creative corner” of the house in the family kitchen.

I’ll hold my hands up, as the photo below shows, my desk aka the kitchen table currently looks like a bomb has gone off on it! (I will tidy it up after I finish this post…promise!)

The layout of the family home and garden doesn’t afford me the luxury of my own study or a summerhouse out in the garden to allow me to work in cluttered tranquillity. I have contemplated clearing out the cupboard under the stairs and hiding out Harry Potter-style but it would be too claustrophobic.

So, for now, my “desk” is the kitchen table. I’m fairly flexible about where I will park myself to write though. At the first glint of sun, I’ll head outside. Much of Book Baby was written while sitting on the front doorstep in the summer sun. Numerous blog posts and music reviews have been penned out there too.

My serialised story The Imp has largely been written during wet and windy lunch hour’s at work. (It currently lurks in my work bag waiting on a suitably wet spell of weather around midday)

I frequently de-camp to the conservatory too but it gets SO cold out there once the sun goes off it and in winter it’s like a freezer!

Most evenings find me settled at the kitchen table.

True, it’s right in the heart of the house and my train of thought is regularly de-railed by various family members passing through (Pause here- gets up and assists Girl Child peeling an apple- I rest my case!) but it’s become “my space”. Well, in my head at least. Everything is to hand, including the fridge and the kettle. Sometimes this is too handy!

So what makes up the “creative mess” scattered across the table? Apart from the obvious –laptop, phone, iPod docking station and TV (Not sure when it was last switched on), there’s my camera, my stationary supplies, a growing pile of notebooks and a pile of junk mail. (Really must sort through it…..)

The pile of notebooks are my work in progress. Book Baby 2 in its raw state is there while I devote time to typing up the first draft (yes, I’m old-fashioned and write everything longhand first). Book Baby 3 lies half-written in the middle of the pile. The omnipresent “Photoshop Elements 13 for Dummies” is lurking there as a constant reminder that I’ve failed so far to master masking and layering images…..GRRRR (Anyone want to offer to explain the black magic mysteries of this software to me?)

And there’s my To Do list which is slowly being ticked off as the week passes.

So, yes, it is a creative mess but tidy idleness just doesn’t compute!

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So, what motivates you? A simple thought provoking question.

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One question that keeps cropping up just now centres around something we all have and something we are all capable of doing.

In a work sense, I was asked recently to name three things that motivated me.

In a personal (mad mad world) sense, I’ve been complimented on my motivation with regards to this blog and my book baby.

It’s got me thinking…..or should I say, it’s motivated me to think a bit more about this. (Seldom a good thing!)

My first port of call, as it is frequently for any topic up for discussion, my rather battered Collins English Dictionary. It says-

Motivate –     to give incentive to

Motivation –  the act or instance of motivating

Incentive of inducement

Desire to do; interest or drive

The process that arouses, sustains and regulated human and animal

behaviour.

Interesting…..

I’ve been mulling this over for a while, trying to establish what actually motivates me.

When I was asked the question in a work context, I was like a rabbit in the headlights. With only a few seconds to come up with my answer, I mumbled a rather bog standard money, recognition for a job well done and the satisfaction of seeing the job completed to a high standard.

If I’m honest, on reflection, two out of the three definitely motivate me at work. One less so. I’ll leave you to work it out.

At the time, most of my colleagues answered along similar lines – money, success, achievement, the thought of retirement on a reasonable pension.

In my own mad, mad world out of work, what motivates me? This has required more thought. A lot more thought!

Seeking inspiration, I consulted the Big Green Gummi Bear to determine his motivators in life. As expected I got a rather succinct three word answer. (For fear of incurring his wrath I won’t share them here.)

I consulted Boy Child, who looked at me blankly at first before saying he’d been motivated to get a summer job to get save enough money to buy a PRS guitar (and pay your way through university for a while, I hope) So I guess from his answer, I can deduce that money motivates him because it allows him to buy nice things. Most folk would struggle to argue with that.

I consulted a friend, who I consider to be one of the most motivated people in my circle of friends, and got a pleasant surprise in the midst of their answer. Family. A highly commendable motivator.

Over time I’ve discovered different things can trigger motivation in me. There’s no one single thing that motivates me. It’s a complex combination of things.

Books can motivate people to change their behaviour. After reading two books by Dean Karnazes, author and ultramarathon man, I was motivated sufficiently to get up off my butt and partake of some regular exercise. (To those reading this who know me – please stop laughing!) If you’d told me a year or so ago that I’d be sufficiently motivated to get out of bed an hour early to go for a run before work, I’d have sworn you were insane.

News articles/social media campaigns can motivate people. Remember last summer’s ALS Ice Bucket Challenge? – were you motivated enough to take part? Or is that inspired? Hmm…. The perfect example harks back to my blog of a few weeks ago. A BBC news item in 1984 motivated Sir Bob Geldof to get up off his couch and come up with Band Aid and subsequently Live Aid. The rest, as they say, is history.

With regards to my creative writing, what motivates me to keep going is the moral support of others, especially my Infamous Five. My motivation to keep going after the launch of Stronger Within went through a serious dip a few weeks ago. A chance comment from someone ,who had read my book baby, was enough to re-fill my motivation tanks for a good long while. They quite frankly told me that, while they’d enjoyed my book, it wasn’t really their thing (fair enough) but that it had inspired them to keep reading other books. Job done! Hearing that I’d inspired someone to read books was certainly motivational for me!

When I’m writing out my weekly To Do list, currently there is a weekly word target to be met. Seeing this number steadily increase week on week helps to motivate me to keep going. (Exceeding the week’s magic number and the resulting buzz I get from it has proved to me that I am more competitive than I thought I was.) Typing for hour after hour several nights a week, especially after a long day in the salt mine, can be quite draining so my simple numbers game is the ideal motivator here.

Another motivator is a sense of accomplishment. With the undying support of a close circle of wonderful people, I’ve made a lifelong dream come true and am on the way to repeating it. I don’t have the words to describe how that feels but, every time I reflect on it, I smile to myself and feel warm and fuzzy inside.

So on reflection, what are my personal motivators? Accomplishment, satisfaction and the determination to keep going.

What are yours?

When did you last look up?

How often do we charge through our days without really looking at the world around us?

When did you last go for a walk and look up?

It’s amazing what you notice!

On my daily drive to work I pass a statue of James Watt, the famous Scottish engineer who was born in Greenock (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Watt)

It would appear he enjoyed gardening from the flora and fauna adorning the beautiful building beside him!

Seeing these pretty wild flowers- ok weeds to some folk- made me take a closer look at some of the other buildings along the route.

Here’s the result – the informal roof gardens of Greenock!

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So next time you’re out and about, look up!

Habit? Routine? Me? …eh……perhaps….

I sat as usual on Sunday morning, coffee and cinnamon raisin bagel to hand, to write my blog post for the week. After a bit of deliberation, I wrote a reasonable blog. The coffee was done. The bagel was long since gone. I packed away my stuff ready to type it up and post it on Monday.

Monday arrived and I stopped in my tracks…….

When I started this blog it wasn’t meant to become routine!

I am an incredible creature of habit. No point in even trying to deny the fact. Anyone who knows me knows that you can almost set your watch by my habits!

I certainly never intended and or intend this blog to become habit!

So I binned the planned post! (Well, it is still handwritten in my notebook so I reserve the right to revisit it another time.)

So now I have no blog to post.

Perhaps this is all reflective of a slight crisis of confidence that I’ve been working through over the last couple of weeks.

Perhaps not……

So while I seek some inspiration for my next “proper” blog please enjoy a few photographic moments from the last few days.

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30 Years Ago Today ….music changed the world

A colleague at work this morning reminded me that today marks the 30th anniversary of the Live Aid concerts in London and Philadelphia.

30 years!!!! Where did they go?

I remember quite clearly settling myself down on the saggy beanbag in the family living room in front of the TV just before midday to watch the opening of the show. Status Quo were the first act on the London stage and I sat transfixed, watching my musical idols of the day “rockin’ all over the world”.

Throughout the afternoon I barely moved from my viewing spot as the pop heroes of 1985 strutted their stuff on the Wembley stage in among rock legends. Everyone an equal on the day.

As we reached late afternoon/early evening, the music improved (in my humble 15 year old self’s opinion). Never a U2 fan even then I had to concede that Bono had the crowd eating out the palm of his hand. Dire Straits played two of my favourite songs.(Still two that can be found on my playlist) and then there was Queen!

What more can I say?

They were incredible. For the first time I truly wished I was part of the 72000 strong crowd clapping along in time to Radio Ga Ga. (It would never have happened – I have zero sense of rhythm and cannot clap in time to music or anything else) One of my biggest musical regrets to this day though is that I never saw Freddie Mercury live.

By eight o’clock my long-suffering mother had had enough and I was evicted from the living room and despatched to my parents’ bedroom to continue my viewing alone. I didn’t have a TV in my room so I curled up in their bed and kept watching.

I remember a video clip of “Drive” by The Cars reducing me to tears as viewers were poignantly reminded what the music was all in aid of. The clip really hit home and even now when I hear that song I can recall it as if it was yesterday.

The Who, Elton John and Paul McCartney all played their part until the London proceedings were wound up with an all-star band singing “Do They Know Its Christmas.” (I was allowed back up into the living room for the finale after much begging and pleading)

I have to confess to not having particularly clear memories of much of the US leg of the event. Probably because I got chased back to my own bedroom as my parents wanted to go to bed. (I’m sure they were watching it with the volume down low!) I fell asleep for the night with the radio on.

Looking back down the list of artists who took part on that memorable day 30 years ago (eek!) is now a nostalgia trip but it is impressive to note that most of the “oldies” on the day are still going strong now.

If you were to re-create such an event today for another worthy cause I wonder how many of the same stars would be among the first to sign up to play?

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Superbikes, Nostalgia and a Large Inflatable Man….

It was my birthday at the end of last month and, as is his usual want, the Big Green Gummi Bear bought tickets to an event for us. Much to my enormous surprise these tickets came inside a birthday card! I don’t think I’ve had a birthday card from him since my 21st– a long time ago! (He did confess to having to ask a work colleague where you went to buy birthday cards!)

So what event had he chosen for us to attend?

My face lit up in a huge smile when I saw the tickets. We were off to see the British Superbikes race at Knockhill Race Circuit in Fife.

I love watching motorcycling. In fact, I love almost all motorsport but bike racing is my favourite. My all-time hero is the late great Barry Sheene. This is a love that goes WAY back – even further than when the Big Green Gummi Bear last bought me a birthday card!

Visiting Knockhill was also a bit of a nostalgia trip. Pre-children we used to go there a couple of times a year to watch the likes of Formula 3 or the British Touring Car Championship. Somehow we’d never gone to a bike event before.

Both of us share fond memories of Sundays spent trying to shelter from the wind and rain at various corners round the circuit. Treasured memories of being soaked to the skin and frozen to the bone as you watched the drivers battle it out on track. One vivid memory of getting myself locked in the ladies loo – that’s another story.

Yesterday was race day. We headed off just after eight o’clock to drive through to Fife. Much to our great amazement it was warm and sunny!

We timed our arrival nicely (by design or default – who knows!) and were directed by the parking attendant to head up across the hill to park at an obscure angle on the grassy hillside above the circuit. (Cue the Big Green Gummi Bear panicking a tad about how he would get his rear wheel drive car back out if it were to rain heavily.)

With the sun on our backs we walked back down the hill to the circuit, grabbed a coffee and made it to trackside for the start of the first race.

This was the start of eight leisurely hours of wandering round the track, watching each race from a different vantage point and enjoying a fair amount of people watching as we went. You’ve never seen so much leather in one place! It was more of a family affair than I’d expected with lots of little kids around and older ones hurtling around on pushbikes. One little girl caught my eye as we walked up past the hairpin. She had to be about three with her hair neatly up in a bun with a glittery pink scrunchie round it, her little leather biker jacket and tight black leggings set off with purple glittery pumps. A little biker princess in the making! Too cute!

Knockhill is a short undulating track with many good viewing points. It was all a bit of a nostalgia trip as we reminisced about previous days at the different corners but we both agreed we preferred to watch down at the hairpin or at the dip just after the first corner.

Our tickets included access to walk the pit lane during the lunchtime break just before the first of the two scheduled Superbike races but when we saw the length of the queue we opted to give it a miss, heading instead across the bridge to watch the race from the mound in the centre of the circuit.

The sun shone down on us for most of the day. Wandering round Knockhill in t-shirt and jeans instead of being wrapped in about five woolly jumpers and a thick anorak with the hood up was a bizarre experience. There were a few short showers of rain later on in the afternoon – well it wouldn’t be Scottish racing without them!

Rain stopped the second Superbike race part way through which led to a re-start a few minutes later and a cracking 11 lap dash.

We meandered round the back end of the circuit for the final race of the day, the juniors (13-18 year olds) before being allowed access to walk the circuit in the early evening sun.

For some reason, we ended up walking round the course counter clockwise, spotting tear-offs from visors at every corner and noting the chunks of half-melted race tyres (marbles) that were scattered about. It was incredibly peaceful. No PA. No engine noise except a dull throbbing thrum from the surrounding bike parks as most of the crowd headed home. Down at the hairpin, a Blondie tribute band were playing. Least said about them the better. Suffice to say, the huge inflatable Dainese man was attracting more interest as spectators posed for photos in front of him. (Yes I did too)

Having completed our lap, we walked wearily back up the hill towards the car. As we passed the campsite some folk had their BBQs lit and the cooking smells reminded me just how hungry I was.

Finally we reached the car, sank down into its sumptuous leather seats and headed for home. As we drove home I began to notice something. It was a completely alien concept in relation to a trip to Knockhill.

I was sunburnt!

No, definitely not frost bite or wind burn as you’d usually expect. Most definitely sun burn!

Our day had been fabulous. Great racing. No serious crashes. No major injuries to the riders. Good weather. Rounded off with a huge pizza and a nicely chilled beer. Happy Days!

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Calming The Troubled Waters Of My Mind

Sometimes you need to find an activity that calms your mind, gives you that break from reality and allows you a few precious moments to re-group your thoughts.

What works for one person won’t necessarily work for another. For some people it may be going for a ten mile run. For others it may be a long walk in the countryside. Some people prefer to seek out an alternative therapy treatment. You get the picture, right?

Personally, I use a few different things to calm the waters in my mind. Usually a walk with my iPod, preferably along a beach, does the trick. If I’m planning complete and utter relaxation and require to re-charge my inner soul then my solution is a Reiki treatment.

Sometimes though you need to be more spontaneous and the relaxation source has to be close at hand.

Yesterday morning, my mind was buzzing when I awoke at the crack of dawn. (Sleep has been a luxury that’s been denied for the past few nights thanks to a sickly Big Green Gummi Bear. It’s been like sleeping alongside Darth Vader in his death throes! Sorry, honey)

Anyway, long before seven o’clock I gave up even trying to get any sleep. Apart from the snoring and groaning that was going on to my left, my brain had gone into overdrive. The “To Do” list for the day was spiralling round-

  • Laundry
  • Ironing
  • Housework
  • Set up the Facebook fan page that I co-admin for the day
  • Photos to downloaded from my camera
  • Photos to be edited and published
  • Blog to be written
  • Promotion of Stronger Within aka Book Baby
  • Typing up of Book Baby 2
  • Writing of Book Baby 3
  • Continue Photoshop tutorials
  • Track down the Rival Sons set from Glastonbury on TV/pc or in fact anywhere!!! (found part of it on Periscope)

By eight o’clock, the photos had been dealt with (and turned out not too bad even if I do say so myself) and the fan page had been half done.

The “thoughts” over load continued while I was in the shower as I mentally tried to squeeze it all into the rest of the day and still have time to cook meals etc.

“STOP!” screamed my inner conscience. “Time out, girl!”

For once, I listened to myself.

So what was the relaxation fix of choice to clear and calm my frazzled state of mind?

I spent a very calming hour on my own, in the warmth of the conservatory, colouring in. I re-connected with my inner child. Art Therapy, if you want to be grown up about.

Nothing complex. Just a quiet simple period of time alone, focussing on one simple task.

It was bliss!

By the end of the hour, I felt calm and relaxed once more.

The “To Do” list had been shortened into something achievable. And, despite the lousy weather outside, the day was looking brighter.

Oh and I had three brightly coloured butterflies on the page in front of me!

Happy days!

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Dream Come True! …….it’s real!

On Thursday 11th June a parcel arrived for me. (Huge thanks to my neighbour across the street for taking it in for me).

Instantly I knew what it was.

Secreted in cardboard packaging, I was holding something I’d only ever dreamed of holding in my hands.

Trembling, I carried it into the kitchen and sat it on the table, not trusting myself to look at it never mind open it!

Once I’d turned on the over for dinner and put away my bits and pieces of shopping, I carried my package upstairs to the bedroom and laid it down gently in the middle of the bed.

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I stood staring at it, still not believing that it was real.

I changed out of my work clothes then sat on the bed beside it, running my hand over the cardboard. Yes, I even took its photograph.

This was a never to be repeated moment in my life.

My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. My throat felt dry.

Slowly I tore off the strip across the back of the package and caught my first glimpse of the contents.

A lump now filled my throat and unshed tears were stinging at my eyes.

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It was really real now.

Lovingly I slid the contents out of the cardboard sleeve.

I was holding it in my hands!

A huge smile of pride spread across my face as I tenderly caressed it.

What was I holding in my shaking hands?

The first ever paperback proof copy of my Book Baby – Stronger Within.

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Since its release on Kindle, there have been many emotional Book Baby moments that I’ll treasure forever- seeing it on sale on Amazon’s website for the first time; selling my first copy in the UK; selling my first copy in the USA and in other countries around the world; reading the first  5* reviews. It’s been an emotional creative roller coaster over the last few weeks.

Nothing however prepared me for the overwhelming emotion of actually holding it in my arms as a real “live” Book Baby!

The last piece of the dream was becoming a reality.

Book Baby sure has come a long way from the four tattered handwritten A4 notebooks that it began life as.

I know I’m biased but it’s beautiful. (Thank you so much to my Photoshop fairy godmother)

So after eleven days, has the feeling worn off?

No!

I’ve painstakingly re-read it from cover to cover, taking extra care not to break its spine, slotting in post-its at pages where the layout requires to be tweaked. I corrected one glaring spelling error. I corrected one “writing” error (I got left and right muddled up). I made one minor tweak to the wording of one section following a reviewer’s criticism of my non-USA language.

Even when it was brimming with post its, it still looked amazing to me.

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Corrections made, I submitted a second draft and ordered another proof copy.

I arrived home this evening expecting it to be waiting for me. No sign of it. A wave of disappointment washed over me. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

However as I sat on my front doorstep in the early evening sun, my neighbour handed me a cardboard package. (Huge thanks to next door!)

My heart began to pound and a smile began to grow.

I carried it indoors and laid it on the kitchen table then returned to the doorstep to finish off this post.

I guess I’d better go and open my parcel!

***The paperback edition of Stronger Within is available on Amazon now. ***