How kind are some people?
The lovely folk over at AOS have put my book on their blog's list of ten for this month. If enough people vote for it I could get a professional review after all!

Not a lot to blog about this time. Read another couple of Ian Rankin's Rebus series. Great stuff!
I've been trying serious poetry. Specifically sonnets. Watch the site, once I'm happy with them I'll post a few up here.

If you do want to vote for SDMW  - here's the link.

http://lorraine-authorswrite.blogspot.com/p/tips-and-advice.html

Today, for your entertainment, I shall keep a diary to log the excitement of
my daily life.

ON STANDBY - A SUPPLY TEACHER'S STORY

I climbed out of bed reluctantly at 5.30am, and groped my way to the shower.
(My eyes don't function at that time in the morning.) Emerging from the
bathroom (in yellow fluffy bathrobe), my beloved husband handed me a cup of
coffee and a bowl of Weetabix. The coffee was gorgeous; we'll gloss over the
cereal on the grounds that beggars can't be choosers. I ate my breakfast in
front of breakfast TV. (Dear Lord, whoever thought of that idea? They should
be shot.) Then the fun began. The highlight of my morning is taking my
'meds'. First, I inject 52 Units of Insulin into any "fatty" area of my
body. At least I have no shortage of sites to choose from; it all depends on
how much twisting I want to do. This morning I chose my right thigh which
has been somewhat neglected of late. This also meant I could remain seated.
By this time we'd switched to Fox News where some guy was slagging off
President Obama. I have a real problem with the fact that I think Barack
Obama is very tasty and I don't think politicians should be. Anyway, then I
lined up the tablets : anticoagulants, ace inhibitors, beta blockers,
diuretics, metformin and the lovely little capsule that stops all this lot
damaging my stomach lining! I washed it all down with a soluble aspirin,
dissolved (out of sheer devilment) in diet pepsi, and wondered for the
umpteenth time how many beta blockers it would take to put me out of my
misery.

I have now been sitting for an hour waiting for the phone to ring. My CRB
and passport are in my handbag along with the agency's 'photo ID' badge. My
'schoolbag' is packed with timesheets and other garbage to make it look like
I have a purpose. If the call comes through, my trusty assistant will make a
cheese sandwich for my lunch and throw it into my bag with the last
remaining apple and two teabags, while I find out where I'm going and and
access the online bus timetables. However, the later it gets, the less
likely it is that Laurence or Dave (my rival pimps) will call, so by 9.30 I
could be sitting here thinking that I could have spent 4 more hours in bed
and still been up quite early!

The Lunchtime Update.  


No calls were forthcoming this morning. Around 9.30, when I had given up hope for the day, I glanced across at my cell-mate,(I mean 'soul mate') and realised that he was falling asleep in his chair. Drastic measures were called for so I suggested that we should go out.
"Where to?"
"We could go and visit Uncle Frank."
"But it's two buses."
"I know, but we have all day and even on 2 buses it's only an hour away."
"Why today?"
"Because I haven't got any work, because we told him we'd go soon and that was a month ago, because Auntie Barb makes a great cuppa...."  I wanted to go on about how Uncle Frank makes me laugh because he's so witty and how he reminds me of Dad and how well we all get on, but the glazed over eyes told me I was fighting a losing battle.  

"We" decided to settle for Sainsbury's and a walk in the park, but halfway to the High Street, we passed the corner shop and they had a special offer on tins of corned beef, rendering Sainsbury's unnecessary. The park was also made redundant by the cold breeze. (He worries about my health when the weather's cold, bless him. How would I cope if I had no-one to look after me?)   Back home once more, away from the dangers of the outside world I made tea and toast for elevenses and he went to bed for a rest. I checked in on Authonomy and saw that the same arrogant fools were dominating the forum and that my mojo is still not working, so I decided to continue my 'diary'. Who knows, maybe one day when I die of boredom, these ramblings will serve as an explanation - maybe even a warning for future generations.  

Teatime:


Well, there was no work, and if I gave you a detailed account of the afternoon I don't think you would cope with the excitement. At one point, it was so thrilling I was tempted to pour water on the front path and watch it dry. I resisted the urge and feel stronger for having done so.
Tomorrow is a mystery, I shall get up and await the elusive phone call again but if I don't get one I have decided to create my own adventure.
I bought a bus pass this week and I'm damn well going to use it. I shall catch the bus down to Cannon Hill Park tomorrow evening and watch several women I know, including my own daughter, taking part in the Race for Life to raise money for Cancer research.
This is a great thing to do, and I wish I was fit enough to join them. Especially as cancer has impacted on the lives of people that I love and have loved.
As I watch the race I shall be thinking of my mother and my father-in-law who both died of cancer.

Above all, I shall be thanking God for my sister who is recovering from a mastectomy.

Jeez !  - And all I've got to complain about is boredom?

This time last year I was stretched to my limits, like a good many others, as the school I was working at prepared for an Ofsted inspection. For those of you who don't work in UK Education, these inspections are dropped on you at 48 hours' notice these days, and most teachers would agree that they are very stressful.

So there we all were, monitoring each others' teaching and marking and preparation; putting together portfolios of 'evidence' of progress; making seating plans and updating our mark books with the latest news from the SEN register and the EAL lists. We knew it would be some time in the Summer term, and so we had to be "on our toes" at all times, because you really can't do it all in 48 hours. It was a nightmare. By the time we reached the middle of May and still no sign of the hit squad, my body decided it needed a rest. I went to bed one night, and as I lay down I started to feel ill. I had no idea what was wrong, but I knew I had to get up at once and go downstairs. The dizziness persisted as I made my way through the kitchen and I lost the power in my legs twice before I reached the bathroom. I'm diabetic and I eventually decided I was having a 'hypo' as I pulled myself back to my feet having slid to the floor once more. I had no pain at all.

It's a darn good thing that I wasn't home alone, because I was convinced there was nothing serious going on. My husband's first attemps to call an ambulance were thwarted by my insistence that all I needed was a cup of tea and a biscuit to restore my sugar levels. Thank God he eventually ignored me and made the call. 

The pain came several hours later, like someone drilling through my chest. I tried to curl up to make it go away, but strong hands restrained me and kept me in position  as the voice without a face told me I had to lie still, I was being treated for a heart attack. I have never been so frightened. 

Anyway, long story short as they say, I'm OK. It's almost a year and I'm teaching again. A lot of paper's gone under the bridge since then, ha ha!  One of my arteries functions with help of four stents. Yesterday, I was working in a school that was being inspected. The inspectors didn't come into the lessons I was taking, but you know what? I wouldn't have cared if they had. In the grand scheme of things there are so many more important things in life. In the last 12 months, I've been present at the birth of my granddaughter, had my book published, reconnected with several old friends and former pupils. I've laughed, cried, read books, written stories. I've loved and thanked God for all of it, because it's wonderful to be alive.

...instead of making up their own answers, dammit?
Back in February I said that if my book didn't reach the desk at Authonomy by the end of March, I would be taking it down and leaving the site to pursue other avenues. I said it several times both publicly, and privately to individuals. It appeared in forum posts, personal messages on the site, emails to other members and in convos on Facebook. Therefore, my plan to remove myself and my writing was NO SECRET. Neither was my motivation for doing so.

I now find out that various 'well-meaning' people are convinced I've been 'forced' off the site due to recent events which I don't need to outline here. I didn't make a song and dance out of going - a quick goodbye and that was it. I thought everyone knew why I was going. It had nothing to do with other people's tactics, neither did it have anything to do with not achieving my goal. I needed more time to get on with my life and more especially my writing.

Apparently, there are a number of people who are holding a wake because they feel I was manipulated in some way and left with no alternative but to quit. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am an intelligent adult, not nearly as naive as people think I am, and any decisions I made were made with my eyes wide open. As I said, the decision to leave in April was made and announced months before the recent onsite fiascos.

I'm truly grateful to all those who really care, but I'm fine and there's no need to worry, To the rest of you - stop using me as an example of some pathetic creature who didn't know her own mind. I clearly did most of what I set out to do :
I networked, I made friends, I worked on my book, I learned a lot, I self-published. (It's selling well - I'm happy) and now I've moved on. 

I can be found here, and on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads. Always happy to hear from any of you.

PS - I hope some of you get the message. I didn't want to rejoin as a sock just to make a point - that way madness lies!

I shall ask one of my authomates to post a link to here in the forum.




 

I finally decided that the most important thing in life is to be true to myself, so I bit the bullet and asked Authonomy to delete my account. It's been such a time drain for so long and after a while it really interferes with the writing.

Four days later and I'm still awaiting deletion, but I have been staying away and feeling better for it. The writing has resumed and so has my life. So where to now?
Well, serious submissions and completing the short stories to get that bug out of my system.

So finally, I get to hold a copy of my book. Heck - I've even autographed two, wahay! That makes me feel like a celebrity only without the bother of all that wealth 'n stuff. Doubt if I could handle that, anyway. It's a great feeling holding the printed and published version of "Sister, Daughter, Mother, Wife".   I remember the day I conceived the idea, in a disused toilet at school where some of us used to gather for a smoke. Hey - not when I was a pupil. I didn't smoke then. It was just before I took early retirement from teaching. (That didn't last. I'm back at it again, but at least the book's been written). One day, I'll write the teaching memoirs - but I'd better wait until I no longer need the supply work !

Anyway - onwards and upwards, I'll never get rich and famous if I keep blogging instead of writing.

Well, maybe not exactly running, but several people have bought copies of "Sister Daughter Mother Wife" since it became available. The irony is that I haven't seen a hard copy of it yet because my author copies will be coming straight from the publisher, and I think they're rushing out the ones that people have paid full price for.

Wow, what a feeling ! People are paying money to read MY book. When it started off a couple of years ago, it was just an idea that entered my head and now it's real. I didn't know if I should include a list of all the people who helped and encouraged me along the way. It ran into pretty high figures, so I decided not to. I've said my private thanks - they know who they are. There are a few people who need singling out though, so I'm going to do it here rather than anywhere else. If you don't like lists, look away now.
    My lovely niece, Ronnie - she was my first reader and she designed the cover.
    My friend Vivien - who was my second reader.
    Marc Nash - a brilliant writer I 'met' through Authonomy.com who gave me wonderful advice on restructuring.
    Michael D. Scott - another writer from Authonomy who helped me get the manuscript in shape for publication, and who put me in touch with New Generation Publishing.
    Helen Doyle - a dear friend, genius, confidante and (yes another) brilliant writer.
    My brother, Frank - he knows why!!!
    My sister Sue - one of my role models.

That's where I'm stopping - or I'll go on forever. There are so many.

I love you guys ! Without your input, I may not have made it to publication.
 

The book is ready for printing and I've ordered my author's copies. Watch this space and I'll be telling you how you can own a real copy of "Sister, Daughter, Mother, Wife".

Meanwhile, back at Authonomy I continue to read myself blind and make little progress. Heigh ho!

Probably the hardest parts for a writer to get right. Beginnings have to catch people and make them want to stay, endings have to be honest and fitting and hopefully leave them wanting more.

I began a new project last week and the two people to whom I've shown it, like it so far. I'm on a roll with it, which is all to the good. So why do I feel so negative?

I've even got some of my short stories being considered for publication, but it's not enough.

Right now, what I want is work, happiness and freedom - all three are eluding me. Oh well, that's life.

Often accepted, but never first choice
Always ignored for someone's louder voice
I finally realise, this is my lot:
Regarded as warm, I will never be 'hot'.
I had some dreams a long time ago.
Where did they vanish to? I'd like to know.
I've tried to help and I've done it for free
But where are the people who'll do it for me?

My talent's not great, I know that, at last
And the dreams that I cherished have faded so fast.
So when I am dead - you'll forget in a trice,
On my headstone, the legend " Here's Lil, she was 'nice',
But she couldn't be special or brilliant or cool
So she died, as she lived, a romantic old fool.
Not cut out for winning when put to the test
Accepting her fate was to be second-best."