Tag Archives: #IndieAuthor

World Book Day 2023 – Your World Book Day

Today is World Book Day and this year’s theme is “Your World Book Day” with the aim to prove that books are inclusive and fun for all.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to grow up in a book filled world as I’ve mentioned before in this blog. There have always been books in my life from a book about Henny Penny when I was a toddler through all the usual childhood tales to the Virginia Andrews books of my early teenage years.

My kids were brought up in a book filled world too, including many of the same books although Henny Penny has been lost over the years. Both of them were in their late teens though before they really began to appreciate reading. Better late than never.

In my humble opinion, books are a personal thing- a personal choice. A bit like music, there’s no bad ones, only books that aren’t to your taste.

Much as I love reading, I hate being told to read a book. Recommend one to me by all means but don’t tell me to read it. My heels dig in and it puts me right off the book in question. This made English class in high school a bit of a challenge. I’ll confess, I rarely read the books we were told to read. I answered my O Grade English paper on a book I’d barely skimmed through. When I came to my Higher English, I knew I needed to knuckle down and actually read the prescribed text. It was book called Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon, the first book of A Scot’s Quair. It’s written in broad Scots and isn’t the easiest read for anyone, never mind a stubborn 16-year-old.  I actually bought a copy years later on a whim thinking I’d read the remaining books…hasn’t happened yet.

I “bribed” myself into reading Sunset Song. Every Friday evening, I would shut myself away in the family lounge room for an hour or so, play my records and read at least one chapter of the book. I really had to force myself to read the damn thing! Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet album will be forever associated with that book!

Over the years there have been many memorable reads for many different reasons. Some of those I still associate with specific times or places. I link Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil by John Berendt (a great book!) with my honeymoon in Mauritius many many years ago.

My bookshelves are an eclectic mix as I do tend to read a wide variety of genres and authors. My kindle is overflowing with unread books (more than 100 the last time I checked). For the past few years, I have consciously been reading books, mainly e-books,  by fellow indie authors. There are so many talented indie authors out there waiting to read, reviewed and shared.

Out of all the hundreds, probably thousands, of books I’ve read over the years, there is one that will forever hold a very special place in my heart and on my bookshelf, where it nestles with its siblings, and that is Stronger Within, the first book I wrote and finally self-published in 2015.

That book has taught me so much on so many levels since the very first evening when I sat down on my doorstep with my new notebook and pen and began to write. The first step in a dream come true moment.

Not every book is for everyone but I firmly believe that there is a book out there for everyone. You just need to search for it.

Happy searching and happy reading.

There just aren’t enough hours in the day…..

Ok, we’re at Thursday evening and I’ve been chasing my tail all week, trying
to get myself up to date and organised to write and post this week’s blog.

Not happening…. there are only so many hours in a day. There are only so
many post-work hours in a day too. (Yes, I work full time in the “salt mine”.)

Some of you may recall that this blog has a baby sister – my music blog-  the525toglasgow (wordpress.com)

It’s this blog that has been stealing my time for the past week…sorry.
Call it research for future book babies. 😉

Confession…I’ve been to three gigs in the past week which meant three lots
of photos to edit and three gig reviews to write and type plus for two of them
there were videos to upload to You Tube too.

Yes, I have a You Tube channel as well
CoralMcCallum – YouTube

So, having been out three times in a week and then spending the remaining
time writing up those shows, I really haven’t had time to come up with a proper
blog for on here this week.

I’m sure you’ll forgive me 😊

 

Tranquility…..

Sometimes in this busy world, you just need to hit pause for a few minutes and reset.

For me connecting with nature, especially water, is my space of choice to pause, rest, reset and refocus, even if its just for a few moments at the end of a long day.

So, excuse me while I enjoy the tranquility of the view.

From The Measly Jar of Motivation – Keep Quiet (flash fiction)

And the prompts were….

There she was in her usual seat in the corner by the window. Sun shining in through the glass was catching on the dust motes in the air. They sparkled around her like stars. Her waist length blonde hair was catching the light too, causing the silky strands to fall like liquid gold onto the desk in front of her.

It was four o’clock on Monday. His favourite after school study period. True, he saw her in class every day and in the hallways and school cafeteria but here in the library for an hour on Mondays was his chance to watch her unobserved.

“Keep quiet!” boomed the librarian, chastising a noisy study group on the far side of the room.

The blonde girl never looked up at the noise. As always, she had her ear buds in.

“What’s she listening to?” he wondered and not for the first time.

She wasn’t like the other girls in school. Her spirit was free. There was no conformity to the fashion dress code. She blatantly shunned this in favour of her own simple style. Most days she wore black skinny jeans, Converse and band tees. The bands were seldom anyone he’d ever heard of but he’d note the names down in his planner then listen to them later on Spotify. Even her choice in music was non-conformist. He liked that. He was less sure of most of the music her t-shirts introduced him to.

He felt a familiar twitch in his boxers as his gaze fell on her breasts, perfectly outlined thanks to the thin tight cotton.

He’d been watching her all term, ever since she’d arrived in school after the Christmas holidays. There were only three weeks until summer break then two long months would pass before he would see her again on a regular basis. Somehow, he needed to find the confidence and the courage to speak to her. If he couldn’t speak to her without tripping over his words, how was he ever going to ask her out on a date? As far as he knew, she didn’t have a boyfriend. He’d never seen her with anyone else, even when he occasionally caught sight of her at the mall or the cinema.

There were only ten minutes left of the study hour.

On a brave whim, he tore off the bottom corner of the page he was attempting to solve a maths problem on and hurriedly wrote, “What are you listening to?”

Before nerves and shyness got the better of him, he slipped out of his seat on the pretence of fetching a book from the shelf behind the window table. Checking that the ever-watchful librarian wasn’t looking his direction, he slipped the torn piece of paper under one of the girl’s text books, grabbed the first book his hand found on the shelf and scurried back across to his seat.

His heart was pounding.

His palms were sweaty.

His boxers suddenly felt very tight.

He glanced down at the book he’d scooped off the shelf – “A History of 19th Century Romantic Poets”. Now, that was something he’d never be!

He stared down at the faded cover waiting for his heart rate to drop and the adrenaline surge to pass.

Trying to act casual, he lifted his gaze and looked across towards the window.

She wasn’t there! Her books were still scattered across the table along with her coffee cup.

A movement to his right caught his attention.

She was standing at the bookshelf beside his table with her back to him. He stole a surreptitious glance at her butt in her tight jeans. His boxers tightened again. As she turned to return to her seat, he watched as she left a small folded square of paper on the corner of his table.

He unfolded it with trembling hands.

“The Sound of Silence by Disturbed. Fancy a coffee? Starbucks in the mall tomorrow after school.”

Hardly daring to breathe, he looked up and turned to look across at her. She was watching him.

Time seemed to move in slow motion.

She smiled.

He smiled back and nodded.

She smiled again, packed her books into her backpack and left the library.

Conquering the world one word at a time LOL

Sometimes you have to pause and look around and reflect back over the ground you have travelled so far.

I did that a few minutes ago as I was looking at my WordPress stats and thinking “what the heck am I going to blog about this week?”

I pulled up the stats map that shows the “all time” view of where in the world my blog has been read. (Yes, I know that some of these could quite easily be bot pings but don’t burst my bubble please).

The very fact that most countries around the globe are pink and some are red, indicating a lot of hits, blows me away.

Why would someone in Australia or Japan or Brazil even find my blog in among the millions of blog posts out there?

The very thought that people in all of these countries have taken time out of their busy lives to even glance at my blog fills me with warmth and pride.

An indie author/blogger’s journey can feel quite lonely at times. Seeing the “likes” notifications and the occasional comment on my blog posts helps to make it much less lonely so thank you to those who have taken the time to hit like or comment. It really is appreciated.

I do try to keep the content on here varied. It was a conscious decision when I started this blog that I didn’t want tied down to one genre or theme. It would have been all too easy to fill it each week with photos of my cats but so far I have largely resisted that temptation.

So I guess that this week’s blog is really just a simple thank you to each and every one of you who read my ramblings each week and keep coming back for me.

Something that would really make my day …my week…my months…even my year would be if someone from Greenland stumbling across this blog…..oh well, a girl can dream 😉

Page

Page

Blank…

What are you hiding,

In those empty lined depths?

New worlds waiting to be revealed.

Old worlds waiting to be revisited.

Young love ripe to for exploration

Relationships that bloom,

Then wither through time.

Goodbyes to be said.

Laughter to light up the world.

Tears silently being shed.

A myriad of possibilities beckon

As I pick up my pen.

The writer’s blank canvas awaits.

My Measly Mason Jar of Motivation

Deciding what to write each week on here can be tough, especially if the “real “ world has been encroaching on the creative one.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been taking part in an online writing sanctuary. (I mentioned it last week  Fragments | Coral McCallum ).One of the takeaways from the workshops was this…

My Measly Mason Jar of Motivation. It’s filled with writing prompts that were kindly provided by the course facilitator. (Thanks, Beth) It’s a mix of words, phrases, and questions to ponder.

I thought I’d give it a try for this week’s blog.

Here goes…..

And the words I have pulled from the Measly Mason Jar are OBLIVIOUS and A SMALL BOY……hmmm

A vast expanse of monobloc driveway was his Jurassic world. Dinosaurs from all eras roamed freely across the terracotta plains. In their midst was a small boy, hunkered down as he acted out battles and adventures with his plastic companions. Lost in the innocent world of a child’s imagination, he played contentedly while his dad was busy mowing the lawn.

As the dinosaurs traversed their terracotta plains, they encountered an obstacle…Two Step Mountain. Only the biggest and strongest and the small boy’s favourites made it to the plateau on top of the mountain. Once up there, the herbivores grazed on an undisturbed coir field, feasting until their bellies were full.

Oblivious to the fact that anyone was watching, the small boy played on.

Hours later, as darkness fell, the driveway and doorstep lay silent. The colourful dinosaurs were scattered all around. Indoors, the small boy was no doubt sound asleep.

With a weary sigh, the small boy’s dad herded the dinosaurs into their plastic crate ready for their next adventure.

Fragments

Over the past few days I’ve been taking part in an online winter writing sanctuary. There are still a few days to go but the assignments have been fun. I thought I’d share this one with you.

Snuggling into the sanctuary of my fur-lined hood, I set off on my early evening meander. Thoughts, some more random than others, flit by as I walk. Slowing my breathing, I calm my frazzled mind by whispering my Reiki precepts to myself as I walk down the hill at a leisurely pace towards the river.

It’s blue hour. It’s quiet. The tree at the foot of the hill stands tall, its branches bare. It reminds me of the cover of Shinedown’s Leave A Whisper album. Good album that.

My mind wanders to an unanswered What’s App from earlier…. wonder what my friend is doing right now? I wish they were walking beside me. Been a while since I’ve seen them. Need to sort that…

The patches in the tarmac pavement trigger imaginative thoughts. What if each separate patch led you into an alternative world? ..a bit like worlds that Will cuts into with the subtle knife in His Dark Materials. I’ll need to find time later to watch the final episode of that…. The books were better.

The pampas grass that grows beside the pavement catches in my hood. I trail my gloved fingers through the leafy fronds. I wonder if the pink pampas grass I’ve lovingly tended from seeds to mature plants will ever bear pink fronds? Time will tell, I guess…

A queue of cars lines the road. The drivers impatiently wait their turn to enter the crowded ferry terminal to catch the boat across the river. Where are all these people going? Where have they been? Have they had a long day? A good day? Or are the just desperate to get home for dinner? Dinner…what to cook? Not much choice left in the fridge. Breaded chicken, chips and beans? Sounds like a simple plan.

Turning for home, I feel the wind in my face, its icy chill stinging my cheeks. Dodging the puddles on the pavement, I gaze upon the Christmas lights that twinkle in the houses to my left. Some white. Some colourful. Some tasteful. Some…well, let’s leave that thought there.

When I reach the turn off to head back up the hill, my steps falter and I sigh. My heart’s heavy. I take my time walking up the long drag of a hill, wondering if there are any deer watching me as I pass by the small area of woodland. Drops of rain are falling now. Nature’s tears. Home beckons.

Warmth envelopes me as I step inside. My meander complete for another day. Each walk is a kaleidoscope of thoughts, hopes, regrets and dreams…the unspoken colours of the day.

On this day in 2013, it all began….

Happy 9th birthday to my blog!

As I step cautiously into its 10th year (eek!), I thought I’d reflect on 9 lessons learned so far during this creative journey.

  1. It is possible to write and self-publish that novel that’s been living inside you for years. (I wouldn’t have believed that back in 2013 but I do now- 7 books later)
  2. There’s something to be gained and/or learned from each and every review and comment on your creative work. (Yes, even from the less than positive experiences.)
  3. Despite my initial fears, it is possible to find something to blog about once a week every week. (So far so good!)
  4. Embrace technology and social media. Back in 2013, I never for a second thought I’d have .co.uk after my name, stars after my books worldwide on Amazon or have a podcast (Ok its an electronic voice reading the posts not mine – one step at a time!)
  5. Believe in yourself. (Friends- stop sniggering! Yes, it took longer than it should have done for me to learn that lesson.)
  6. Be curious. Blog topics over the years have come from all manner of sources, including the label on the wine we had with dinner one night ( This one – just in case you were curious 19 Crimes…. and a glass or two of wine | Coral McCallum)
  7. Don’t be afraid to experiment with your creativity. I’ve used this blog as a proving ground for many diverse ideas, genres and characters over the years.
  8. Support other creative souls. It takes a certain amount of courage to expose yourself creatively to the world so show your support for others who have taken that leap of faith. Guests are always welcome here.
  9. Have fun! Creativity should be fun (well, most of the time)

I couldn’t have made it this far along the way without your love and support. Every blog you’ve read, every book you’ve bought, every person you have told about the books and/or blog – every single word helps to fuel the fires of creativity and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Another year is drawing to a close so I’ll seize this opportunity to wish you all the best for the new year when it arrives. May 2023 be kind to us all.

Love n hugs

Coral xx

(image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

Continue the Story… at the end of a long hard journey

With her backpack on her shoulder, she pushed open the café door with a sigh of relief. She’d made it! It had been a long arduous journey. Her bare feet were weary after trekking along the beach for days, following her natural instincts to reach her destination. Feeling the tiled floor deliciously cool under her hot feet, she made her way to the only remaining empty table then lowered herself down onto the pine chair.

At the next table, there was a young girl sitting nursing a latte looking as exhausted as she felt. The girl’s clothing was caked in mud and there were twigs and leaves in her tangled ponytail.

Beyond her sat an agitated middle-aged man who was staring down at a map muttering, “This can’t be right “ over and over again.

To her left an old lady sat primly drinking a cup of tea from a bone china cup, complete with matching saucer, her finely wrinkled face awash with relief. At her feet, a small white dog with a blue collar lay curled up asleep.

Over at the table in the corner, a man sat heating his hands on a mug of soup. Beside him were skis and boots, both leaving icy puddles on the tiled floor.

In the opposite corner sat a runner, sweat running down his forehead into his eyes as he drank thirstily from a sports bottle.

They had all made it to the café, no matter what route their journeys had taken them.

Setting her backpack down on the floor, she let out a low groan of relief at the removal of the weight from her slender sunburnt shoulders.

Glancing up, she saw a waitress approaching, her welcoming smile melting away her exhaustion and warming her heart.

“Honey,” she began as she turned to a fresh page in her notepad. “What can I get you?”

“A lemonade would be good, thanks.”

“Anything to eat? You look like it’s been a tough trek to get here.”

Suddenly realising she was ravenous, she said, “Pizza, please. A pepperoni pizza.”

“Coming right up,” promised the waitress, noting the order in her pad. “Oh, where are my manners! Welcome to There. Everyone gets here eventually.”