Tag Archives: #amwriting

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

motivation

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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Glowing Report from Karen’s Book Haven forStronger Within

Had to share this folks.

http://karensbookhaven.com/stronger-within-by-coral-mccallum/

This has given me a warm fuzzy feeling inside – proud book baby mummy.

Huge thanks to Karen for her kind words

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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Make A Wish

Sometimes you don’t need a whole string of words to reflect the moment.

Sometimes you just need something simple to wish on.

Go on …..make a wish

 

dandelion tagged

The Imp – part twelve

Here’s the next, long overdue instalment of The Imp. Enjoy!

The Imp – part twelve

In a room, illuminated only by a small oil lamp, Jem sat beside his tiny daughter’s cradle, singing softly as he rocked her to sleep. The baby wriggled restlessly until she had turned onto her side to face her father then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Loathe to leave her, Jem sat on, watching her gentle breathing with his hand resting on the carved edge of the crib.

High up in her tree top prison Amber was pacing the floorboards with her fractious son. Nothing seemed to settle him at this point in the evening. Night after night he cried himself to a standstill. She had tried everything but to no avail. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t need changed. He didn’t have wind. He just wailed, a heart wrenching tortured cry. Whispering softly to him, the fairy/elf delicately reached out with her elven magic and probed into his mind. Up until now Amber had resisted the temptation to use magic on the baby but she was rapidly reaching the end of her tether. She was startled to see a clear vision of her sleeping daughter. The baby girl looked to be wrapped snuggly in a soft wool blanket. A hand rested on the edge of the wooden cradle. An adult hand. Jem’s hand. The sight of his signet ring and his long fine fingers brought tears to her eye. Instantly she understood her son’s distress.

The baby boy was missing his twin sister. While she slept, their telepathic connection was severed. It was the unbearable loneliness and the separation that was causing him to wail inconsolably.

“Hush, little one,” she whispered in his mind. “You’ll be together again soon. I promise.”

In his study Urquhart was pouring over the leather bound book. He had read it from cover to cover four times already, desperately seeking more clues about the witch and her sisters. So far he had determined that each witch was tasked with acquiring a gemstone- one from the elves, one from the fairies and one from the mortal men. The last fable in the tome suggested that a fourth stone was needed to connect the three gems. Despite reading and re-reading the six tales, the wizard still had no clue as to what this mystery gem was and not the slightest hint as to where it may be.

Muttering to himself, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and brought out an ancient elven manuscript. His master had gifted it to him when he completed his apprenticeship, saying he would have need of it in troubled hour. Perhaps this was that troubled hour? The aged elven manuscript was badly faded in places but with a subtle rejuvenating spell, the wizard soon had it restored to its former brightness. Beside him the candle began to splutter as it reached the brass candlestick. Quickly he used the dying flame to light a fresh candle then returned his attention to the manuscript.

As the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, Urquhart found what he had been searching for. After trawling through centuries of elven history he had found a description of a theft that had rocked the gentle race to its very heart. The parchment told a strikingly familiar tale. A beautiful raven haired elf had wooed the newly-crowned and unwed king. He had been completely besotted with her and married her in a lavish ceremony in front of the High Council. Two days after the celebratory feasting ended, the king was found dead in his bedchamber. Poisoned. His new queen was nowhere to be found. Nothing in the room had been disturbed and the door had been locked from the inside. The only item missing was the king’s ceremonial chain of office. It was a heavy ornate gold chain that he used to hold his official royal robes in place. The clasp had been forged by the original elves and at its centre they had set a large emerald in a bed of gold carved oak leaves. Nothing else was annotated in the manuscript as being out of the ordinary apart from the unexplained presence of black crow feathers on the chamber’s window sill.

“Damn and blast,” hissed Urquhart, placing the elven history back in the drawer.

As he stared out of his study window, the wizard recalled a song he had heard the fairies perform at the annual fayre. It was a love song that told of the death of one of the first fairy kings. He had died from a strange malaise after the mysterious disappearance of his queen, following the birth of their twins. The babies, a boy and a girl, were left orphans and deprived of both their parents’ love. One verse of the ballad made mention of a missing sapphire ring that had been the king’s gift to his queen following the birth of their children. The last verse contained a reference to a giant mythical bird carrying the queen away to its eyrie. More feather references.

Suddenly it became obvious to Urquhart that the witch, masquerading as the Lady Karina, had had her black heart set on the ruby that was the centre piece of the king’s crown.

With a flash of inspiration, Urquhart realised that the fourth stone had to be a diamond. Not just any diamond. A mythical stone that had perhaps been connected with all three races in the past; a stone that had long since been lost.

A week had passed since Karina’s return to the family home and she was still trapped in the form of a crow. Her sisters had discarded the cage but her movements were restricted to her own suite of rooms, deep within the mountain. She hadn’t seen daylight for days. Captivity was doing nothing for her humour and she had already bitten three of the household servants as they brought her meagre meals of grain. The last serving girl had apparently lost her finger as a result of a particularly vicious bite.

“Sister, dearest.” Greta’s sharp greeting startled her. “We may have found a solution.”

“You have? About bloody time!”

“Yes,” snapped the elder witch, extending her hand. “Step on and come with me. I’ll trust you not to fly off.”

As she hopped onto her sister’s outstretched hand, Karina felt a gentle tingle of magic round her feet as enchanted shackles held her firmly in place.

“So much for trust, dear Greta!”

“Well, perhaps if you had exercised the same caution, you wouldn’t be in this predicament!”

Silently Karina was carried through the keep’s torch lit corridors until they arrived at a small ornately carved door. It was the door to their brother’s private study. No one had dared to venture inside since his untimely disappearance over a century before. Greta snapped her fingers and the door opened. Once inside the small chamber she released the binding spell and allowed Karina to hop off onto the back of the only chair in the sparsely furnished room. On the desk sat a small dish of seeds and beside it a smoking vial of bright green liquid.

“We consulted the family physick and Isabella found an entry with a potion recipe that should solve you bodily problem,” Greta explained as she poured the smouldering contents of the vial over the bird seed. “Eat, Karina.”

Without a murmur of complaint, the cursed witch flew over to the desk and, perching on the edge of the silver dish, began to eat the sodden seeds. She had expected them to taste foul but was surprised to discover they were sweet, deliciously sweet. Soon the dish was empty.

“Now, we wait,” stated Greta coldly.

Gradually Karina felt a tingling sensation begin to spread through her feathers. She felt as though she was starting to swell. Just as she was on the brink of calling out in fear, there was a flash of blinding green light, followed by a cloud of vile smelling smoke.

When the smoke cleared, Karina stood, naked as the day she was born, in front of her elder sister.

“Welcome back, Karina,” purred Greta as she handed her a dark green velvet robe.

When Amber awoke, her senses told her immediately that someone had been in the room while she had slept. A small package lay on the table, wrapped in a leather cloth. Beside it lay a large bunch of wild flowers and a plate of fresh fruit.

“Blain,” she whispered to herself. No one else would have brought her flowers.

Her son was still sleeping soundly in his plain wooden crib. With a quick check to see that he was alright, the fairy/elf slipped out of bed, crossing the cold damp floorboards in her bare feet and unwrapped the package. In the middle of the leather cloth lay a silver thimble, a long thick needle and a small leather pouch full of soot. Her heart sank. The rowan twig was missing. Without it she couldn’t make use of the other items. Suddenly something in the centre of the bunch of flowers caught her eye. In typical Blain fashion, he had disguised the twig amongst the colourful blooms.

Now she had everything she needed.

Carefully she hid the items under the mattress of her son’s small bed. As she folded the piece of leather, Amber noticed there was a message written in tiny lettering in one corner.

“The portal opens in two days. It will be open for eight days and nights. I will bring you a visitor in three night’s time. Be ready to do what you plan. Time will be short. B.”

Bank Holiday Monday – a household chore that nobody wants to tackle

Bank Holiday Monday – oh what to do?

Yes, there’s the usual list of chores that could be done, the compulsory trip to the nearest DIY superstore or a venture to the local garden centre.

It would be nice to go out for a leisurely family lunch. ( A girl can but dream)

If the sun stays out, I could venture out later, camera in hand,

If the rain comes on, there’s one task that should be undertaken.

This is a task that any of the four of us who live in this house could do. We all know and agree that it needs to be done. Once it has been done, we will all benefit from its completion.

Will it get done today?…….well, the day is young……but I’m making no rash promises here!

So what is this dreaded chore that desperately requires attention?

The family CD collection needs to be put into alphabetical order. (The DVDs and Blu Rays are already done- the books are a lost cause!)

Considering the amount of music played in this household, there’s not an unmanageable amount to sort out.

In the dim and distant past, when we only had about 50 CDs, they were all neatly stacked in a small black storage unit from Argos and were in strict alphabetical order.

Then two things – well three technically – happened.

We had children, both of whom loved to tip the CDs all over the living room floor as toddlers.

And we bought more music so the original storage unit rapidly became too small.

The end result is, that over a lengthy period of time, law and order has long since vanished from the family music collection. I hasten to add, my treasured box of vinyl is in perfect alphabetical order.

Bearing in mind the diverse musical tastes of the household, if you randomly select a CD, Lord knows what you may find in your hands.

When attempting to agree on which CD should provide the background music over dinner, we’ve resorted on many occasions to selections such as “middle shelf, second column from the right, six discs down.”. Then you pray it doesn’t result in the soundtrack from High School Musical or Bob The Builder.

Suffice to say, there’s an eclectic mix lurking on those shelves.

We also have a size issue to consider when one of us finally gets around to restoring law and order. Some albums have come in presentation boxes of non-standard size. Others are CD/DVD combinations in boxes of a non-standard width. There’s some in cardboard gatefold sleeves. And don’t get me started about the number with cracked and broken boxes!

Throw in the countless Now CD’s that will require numerical sorting too, is it any wonder that no one wants to tackle this labour of love?

Well, I suppose I should stop procrastinating and bite the bullet and get on with it.

 Oh wait! I’ve just remembered I need to go to garden centre as a matter of urgency to purchase some plants for the patio!

I guess the CDs can wait a while longer….

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Stronger Within —-the dream’s come true!

Well, the day is finally here! The wait is over!

(My hands are trembling a little with nervous excitement as I write this.)

Book Baby has been born!

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Stronger Within, my debut novel (eek!) is live in the Kindle Store on Amazon for the all the world to see. (Takes deep breath…..)

Actually seeing it on there, with my name and a price tag beside it, has stirred a plethora of emotions within me – a bit like childbirth does, to continue with that analogy.

The last few days have been an emotional rollercoaster. Despite my best laid plans – I had the whole week off work to complete the final edit and preparations – Mother Nature threw a spanner in the works. For the first time in almost twenty years, I was ill and spent two days in bed and another under a blanket on the couch – flu! It cost me three precious days of calm, organised preparation time. Easter Monday was a write off too as I spent most of it in floods of tears, mourning the loss of my beloved white cat, Gandalf. One of the toughest days of my life but at least he’s not suffering anymore.

By Tuesday I felt semi-human again and, four days later than planned, the final edit began.

This final spelling, grammar and punctuation check truly was a long, laborious process (yes- pain relief and Lemsips were required – no natural birth for Book Baby I’m afraid!) Finally with one almighty push, I had my completed word document.

It was stark naked but Stronger Within was ready to be uploaded onto my Kindle Direct Publishing account.

This proved a little tricky and fiddly. It was a bit like trying to wrestle a baby into an all-in-one sleep suit. Bits kept wriggling free! Some of the legal disclaimer page didn’t sit quite right. Some of the title fonts were too big. My author’s note and biography pages (the two hardest bits to write, by the way) also tried to escape. However, like all new mothers, I persevered and soon had it all snuggly dressed.

I sat in the kitchen, on my own, music blaring as usual, staring at the screen before reaching out to hit submit.

There were no fanfares. No fireworks. No party streamers. No champagne corks flying.

Just me, a half-drunk glass of Lucozade and Myles Kennedy singing in the background.

I’d done it! I’d really done it!

Book Baby had become Stronger Within.

The four handwritten A4 notebooks had been transformed into a Kindle e-book.

Even now, several days later, it’s still not quite sunk in.

As a child, I was always scribbling stories in notebooks, seldom finishing any of them.

As a teenager, writing was my escape from the bullying I was subjected to in school. Most lunch hours were spent huddled in a quiet corner, safely lost in my own creative bubble.

Marriage and children came along and for years I never wrote at all. I still kept my diary but that was about it until five or six years ago. I found myself with an hour and a half to myself once a week while Girl Child was at dance class. While she pirouetted and tapped upstairs, I sat in the local theatre’s café writing poetry. It was a start.

Almost two years ago I couldn’t keep the characters in my imagination quiet any longer and, in true Coral fashion, bought a new A4 notebook and a new pen and began to write. The end result is Stronger Within.

Some of you are possibly wondering – “Why launch a book on a Wednesday?”

The 15th April was chosen as Book Baby’s birthday a few months ago. It’s a date that means a lot to me personally. It was my Wee Gran’s birthday (she would have been 113 today if she was still with us). She discovered the joy of reading late in life. Like most of us, she began with Enid Blyton. The only difference was that she was in her late seventies at the time! My mum suggested that she join the local library and my Wee Gran soon developed a love of a good doctor/nurse romance. I wonder what she would have made of Stronger Within?

There’s a second reason for choosing the 15th April. Twenty one years ago today the Big Green Gummi Bear asked me to marry him. Yes, I’m a romantic fool at heart!

So what’s next?

Well, there’s no rest for the wicked! I’m planning to spend the next few weeks writing, promoting Stronger Within and trying to re-charge my batteries then I’ll start typing up Book Baby 2. It’s already written (well the first draft is) and fills another four A4 notebooks.

None of this would have been possible without the support and encouragement of my “infamous five” alpha readers. (Have you each worked out who the other four are yet?) Without their love and friendship, Stronger Within would still just be a story in four notebooks in a box under my kitchen table. Thank you just doesn’t seem enough here.

A huge thank you to my beta readers who arrived like the cavalry a few weeks ago to read over the final drafts.

To my artist friend who gifted me the Celtic dragon design – thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s perfect.

And a final thank you to my “writing fairy godmother” for waving her Photoshop magic wand for me!

So all that’s left to say is make yourself a coffee or pour a glass of wine, sit back, relax and enjoy Stronger Within.

Love and hugs to you all

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Stronger-Within-Silver-Lake-Book-ebook/dp/B00VXDSC1M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428994193&sr=8-1&keywords=stronger+within