My latest story in My Weekly Is called Pennies In Fountains. You might be able to guess what I was looking at when I got the idea for this story.
I’ve written before about wishes coming true, but this time I thought about the actual coins. What happens to them once they’ve helped the people who threw them to make their wish? If they made a wish come true maybe they’d remain lucky – or perhaps they remain just money with exactly the same powers as that always has?
I love the illustrations used in the magazine. It’s always interesting to see how the story will be interpreted in the artwork.
When I checked my dictionary to see if standardise should be spelled standardise or standardize I found that both versions are acceptable. Either way it means to make something fit in with a standard. Have you noticed that standardisation often seems to involve bringing everything or everyone down to the lowest common denominator rather than trying to raise them up to the highest possible level? Standardizes, standerdizing and standardized should all have a z according to my dictionary, although not the spellchecker on my computer. That’s helpful.
A standard is a level of quality, principles of good behaviour or a type of flag or lamp and the way some plants are trained. It can also mean the accepted norm or average.
One of my stories, A Game Of Conkers, is currently available to read on the My Weekly website. It was published in the magazine last year and it’s nice to think they feel it’s worthy of another outing..
We’re currently sheltering from the wind and rain in the mobile writing retreat (campervan) and making good progress on the first draft of the second book in my cosy crime series. Hopefully, in around 1,000 words time, it’ll dry up and we’ll get to see some of the beautiful Peak District.
Plash can mean a pool or puddle, or a splashing sound. It’s usually used in reference to water and I feel it suggests something gentle and refreshing. A fountain plashing water into a large basin where weary tourists stop to rest. A beach being plashed by the tide. The sound of oars plashing into a sunlit river overhung with willows.
It’s the kind of sound we’d enjoy hearing on a hot midsummer’s day.
Here’s what this writer’s life was like on the hottest day of the year.
6.30 Too hot to stay in bed, so I got up and made tea (it’s never too hot for tea). I’d hit a snag with the ending of book 2 in my cosy crime series, but woke with part of the answer and wanted to get it typed before I had to go out.
9.15 Breakfast eaten and more tea drunk, I picked up the box of books and things I’d packed the previous day. I’d done that before we realised Gary would have to stay in for a vital delivery and therefore couldn’t drop me off. The box didn’t seem that heavy when I left home…
10.00 – 2.00 Barbara (left) Mandy (centre) and I talked to people about writing (and the heat) and tried to interest them in joining Solent Writers’ Circle. I think we did pretty well. Several people took our leaflets either for themselves or others they thought would be interested. One of the other groups in attendance is interested in some of our members going along to talk to our, and in having me give a reading / talk.
The photo (thanks, Christine) gives away the fact we drank tea, but at least I hid the large wedges of home made cake (which Mandy actually resisted!)
2.30 – I didn’t have to carry my box back! (Thanks, Gary)
The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to cool down, drinking tea, a little more writing and research into the make of car my character Cameron would drive. Thanks to the many people who answered my query on Facebook. That was an interesting and fun exercise.
6 ish – A cup of tea and then a walk looking at cars. Thanks again to Gary who told me what I was looking at. I spotted a couple of Jaguar XFs actually in our road, which seem perfect. (I’m not as unobservant as that might suggest, I’m just not a car person.)
7 ish – Had dinner and switched to wine. Wondered how weird it would be to knock on the door of a person I don’t know and ask if I could sit in the driver’s seat of their car for a moment and then take a quick look at the boot to see if it’s big enough to hold a body.
To go lickety-split means to rush headlong towards something, or travel at full speed. To me, it rather suggests one should be heading in the direction of a couple of frightfully nice chaps, serving lashings of ginger beer.
We don’t generally go lickety-split in our van (it doesn’t half rattle if we do) but we expect it to go where we want when we want. The other day it wouldn’t go anywhere. Fortunately the RAC where able to coax it back into action.
We visited this castle with our van. I climbed the first turn of steps lickety-split, but by the time I reached the top it was more … Let’s say sedate, shall we?
The September issue of Ireland’s Own contains one of my short stories. Although Ethel, the lead character, has my mother-in-law’s name she’s not really based on her. When I write about people I know, I change the names!
This Ethel has embraced some modern technology (as has my mother-in-law) but isn’t a slave to it and thinks the younger generations might be better off looking up from their screens now and then. OK, so that could apply to my mother-in-law too! Maybe it’s an age thing?
The changes that people now in their 80s and 90s have seen in everyday living have been incredible. Most of those people have adapted to those changes, and now make use of modern technology. I wonder if those who are teenagers now would cope so well if the world wide web was to fail, satellites lose their connections and most modern technology cease to work.
An aphorism is a short statement of fact or opinion. They’re often catchy and quotable. If you snooze you lose, All for one and one for all, Forgive your enemies but remember their names, Little strokes fell great oaks. Actually oaks feature quite a lot, From little acorns grow mighty oaks, Storms make oaks grow stronger roots, Today’s oak is yesterday’s nut which held its ground, The only cure for sea sickness is to sit with your back against an oak tree.
Even when aphorisms are opinion and/or wrong they’re stated as facts eg Lightning never strikes the same place twice, Posession is nine tenths of the law, All things come to he who waits.
Sometimes they’re designed to encourage better behaviour or spur us to action, If you’re not part of the solution you’re part of the problem, Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, Nothing ventured nothing gained. They can also suggest a deeper meaning, All that glitters is not gold, You can lead a horse to water but can’t make it drink.
Aphorisms often contradict each other, Oil and water don’t mix, Opposites attract, You’re never to old to learn, You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
One of my favourites is, Keep your powder dry. It’s good advice.
I have a story in the current issue of The People’s Friend Special. Just in case the title and beautiful illustration haven’t given it away, I’ll tell you that it involves sunflower seeds.
Quite some time ago I’d written a different story about sunflowers. That’s set in Little Mallow – the same fictional village as the cosy mystery series I’m working on, and due to be published in My Weekly very soon. As often happens, I had more ideas on the theme than would fit into one story.
Very soon afterwards, my editor at The People’s Friend forwarded me a lovely email from a reader saying how much she’d enjoyed one of my stories. The lady’s name was Olive and she mentioned that she’d been a teacher. I immediately decided to write about a kind teacher called Olive, and to have her use my sunflower seed ideas to help her pupils. I don’t know if the original Olive will ever see the new story she inspired, but I hope so.
Thank you to the kind people who contacted me after my last post, to tell me the new name of my story in the People’s Friend 2024 annual, and to share the illustration. The mine blurb used by The People’s Friend goes like this ‘Diane loses her beloved climbing rose, and struggles to find a replacement in “A Rose By Any Other Name”, by Patsy Collins.’
I thought the illustration would be pretty and wasn’t disappointed. Ruth Blair has done a great job, hasn’t she? The new title is appropriate too.
Last week I had another story accepted by The People’s Friend – my 50th with them. That one will be published in a Valentine’s issue. Yes – it is a romance!
In case you were wondering about Hunky Dory, the title of my last post, that was a favourite saying of the person who accidentally destroyed the original rose in the story. Sorry I didn’t explain that. I must have written the post before my second cup of tea that morning, as somehow showed the wrong publication cover. This is the right one.
