The End of The Writing Dry Spell?

I have heard a number of writers say that the lockdowns, instead of giving a lovely spread of clear writing time, have actually been dry and uninspired. I’m one of them. I really thought that I’d write like the wind – I have so many books in various stages of unfinishedness (is that even a word?) So there certainly wasn’t a problem with finding something to work on.

But.It.Just.Wasn’t.Happening.

It’s cold and grey and snowing outside. Snow too deep to make trekking enjoyable. Even the chickens were staying on their perches and cuddling up to each other.

And I was home, cuddling up to a few good books – ok, many good books – when I should have been producing something myself.

Then, hallelujah – I got the final galleys for The Bride’s curse from my lovely editor at TWRP – the book is heading for publication and suddenly, writing became possible again. I sent off Dark Revenge, a romantic suspense, to the publisher in an act that felt like desk clearing.

And I sat down to write again.

What to choose from the list of ideas that seems to have grown longer and longer?

The answer is obvious, really. I wanted something fun, and it’s almost Sit. Patrick’s Day. Soooo, what could be better than the sequel to Winters & Somers, my Irish detective tale? In this latest adventure, Ciara Somers, the Dublin Based PI, and her lover, New York Homicide cop J.V.Winters, get involved with organised crime and stumble over some very disorganised crime, as well….with help (or hindrance) from two grannies, a couple of pot smoking friends, and a cynical Dublin cop. Did I mention the weird bed and breakfast lady?  And an assorted list of characters from the first book.

Oh, yes, this writing is going to be fun!

Here’s the link for Winter’s and Somers, the first book:

Tirgearr Publishing - Winters & Somers By Glenys O'Connell

or https://tinyurl.com/y8g2yhua for Amazon

 

February - The Month We Have A Love/Hate                        Relationship with. 

"Every Day is a New Beginning - Smile, and Start Again!"

Ah, February - love it, hate it, look forward to it, dread it....so many feelings about this, the second month of the year. It trails along after January, which has usually pelted us with bad weather, with cold, snow, ice...depending, of course, on where you live.

February holds out the promise that Spring isn't far away. And then dumps a foot of snow on you, just to make the point. Pictures abound on calendars and magazines, tempting you to believe that any minute now, bright daffodils and sweet smelling lily of the valley are going to spring into being...and then reality dawns. Living here, in Ontario, these poor wee signs of spring would need a power hammer to beat their way out of the snow and ice that covers them.

But there are some special things about February. St Valentine's Day, the most romantic day of the year - well, maybe you have other choices, like New Years Eve or your birthday, whatever - just bear with me on this for a while.

One good thing about the month is that it's shorter than the others - because when the calendars were being put together, the creators used lunar months. They wanted to get an even number of days in the months, so it looks to me like poor old February was short changed amongst all the 30 and 32 day contenders. 

It's the only month on the calendar, though, that has the compensation of being able to add a day, once every four years. Interesting for most of us, but possibly a bit frustrating for folks born on - yes, you've guessed it - February the 29th. It could mean that you only get a birthday party once every four years. Alternatively, you don't age as fast as the rest of us. If you're a leap year baby, when your friends and relatives hit, let's say, 40, the leap year baby is only 10 years old....figuratively speaking.

February didn't exist in Ancient Roman times, when the calendar didn't have months and the time was just referred to as 'Winter'. Shiver, can you imagine having no time markers between months, just one long period of cold, dark winter making it hard to comprehend when will the summer come....

That all changed around 700 BCE, possibly because people needed the sense of hope that ticking off those much shorter calendar months gave them, rather than having just one long, long Winter month. It's a psychological thing :-) 

Here in Canada, February is claimed to have more sunshine than other winter months, and the sun shines on the snow and makes it look pretty. Oh, the deceptions of nature.

February is also Heart month, when we're bombarded with reasons why we need to get more exercise (really? In three feet of snow and windchill of -OMG?) and to eat healthy (sure, we can add chocolate and wine to our lettuce leaf salad, yes?)

It's also now Black History Month, from Feb 3 - Feb 20. An interesting addition but sounds like that's a bit short changed, calling it a month when there's only 16 days....but that's February for you.

And then there's Winterlude - a huge festival which takes place in our capital city, Ottawa, with skating on the Rideau Canal, ice sculpting, and lots of things happening all over that very beautiful city.

And don't forget the Hôtel de Glace in Quebec, where you can book rooms in a genuine ice palace, the only one known in North America. Dress warmly...

Meanwhile, my friends, I'll be cuddled up to a blazing woodstove with a good book and waiting Winter out.

             The Never Finished Book - My Dark Little Secret

 

They whispered to her: "You cannot withstand the storm."

She whispered back: "I am the storm."

I started a book - a romantic suspense-back in 2014.

Yes, you read that right. 2014. More than six years ago. And it’s languished on my computer, getting a quick titivation here and there, but never actually being finished. I have excuses—at least four of those years have been a nightmare for many reasons too depressing to note here. But I have finished other books that have been published, made headway on several others. But this book? I felt like calling it Dark Depression, rather than Dark Revenge.

One simple problem that I have never, in all my writing career and all my completed books, come across before.

I COULDN’T GET THE ENDING.

 Then, strange as it sounds, I woke up in the middle of the night a few nights ago, and I just KNEW what the ending should be, made some notes, and I’m about to sit down and get that in gear. It will require a fair bit of rearranging of events, but yes, it looks like Dark Revenge will be finished and available for sale sometime soon!

So, the moral of this story is never give up on an idea. You’ll never know how close I came to deleting all the files for this book because seeing them every time I started to work, seeing all those stunted, unfinished pages, was undermining my writing.

Now I feel like the elves in Snow White – hey-ho, hey-ho, it’s off to write I go!

You can visit some of my finished books at https://tinyurl.com/yyb5uz8r

Come, Travel With Me.....To Capri:

We can go there in our imaginations, at least:

Funny thing about this self-isolation/lockdown/shutdown, whatever you want to call it – we find ourselves missing the little things – the monthly bookclub meeting, real coffee in a café, people watching at the park, browsing the stores, family get-togethers and visits, dinner out to celebrate a birthday or anniversary…things we might have taken for granted suddenly seem so desirable.

And intertwined with this is daydreaming about …’when this is all over’ travel. So many people have had to cancel travel plans this summer, sometimes for dream vacations. This trip to Capri was one of my dream trips, back in 2006. We usually have a couple of weekend in Niagra on the Lake each year, and hoped to repeat last year's trip to Newfoundland….and next year, maybe to revisit Europe. But right now England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Italy, Greece – they may as well be a million miles away rather than a plane ride or two.

To feed this longing for travel, I've been taking an armchair journey through some of the places we've visited and loved. Why not join me, take my hand and we’ll travel…for example, how about a trip to Capri?

 We set out from Napoli in the rain, with Vesuvius scowling over the docks...and the smell of sulphur with a yellow haze over the water.

But it seems in no time at all we were looking at this welcoming view of Capri...

The town itself is quite beautiful, full of history and flowers..and very steep. There is a funicular railway that gets you up the steep sides of the island. What is a funicular, you ask? Here is the Collins dictionary definition: A funicular or a funicular railway is a type of railway which goes up a very steep hill or mountain. A machine at the top of the slope pulls the carriage up the rails by a steel rope.  People like myself, who don't like heights, may be suspicious about that steel rope, but believe me, it's safe and well worth the trip to get the views from the perch at the top.

Speaking of steep, this photo doesn't really do justice to the views...

This pretty little garden was once the favorite relaxing place of one of the Roman emperors - Claudius, if memory serves me right. Just imagine, strolling in a garden where an emperor and his entourage once rested and played! Not that the emperors were very nice people, but still...

Have you ever seen water this beautiful color of aqua green? It's something to do wit the minerals in rocks, I believe.

Capri is an island, so boats of all variety are part of the lifestyle. 

 

 Look closely - you'll see the figure of a woman at the very top f this cliff. Sorry, but I can't remember who or what she was...I think something to do with keeping the sailors safe?

I was fascinated by these huge billionaire mansions on these daunting cliffs, retreats for their very wealthy and privacy loving owners. Apparently, attempts to visit are discouraged...:-)

 

As I said earlier, much of the life around Capri is oriented to the sea...these tall rocks have a romantic story...apparently, if you sail between them and kiss your companion, your love will last forever. Sorry, hon., looks like you're stuck with me...

And then, Goodbye to Capri and back to Naples & Vesuvius.

Another item ticked off the bucket list!

Monday's Inspiration: What to Give the Writer Who Has Everything (In Their Imagination).

Have a writer on your Christmas gift list? Stuck for ideas? That’s not surprising, considering you’re dealing with a person who can have anything he or she wants – in their imagination, of course!

But buying for writer friends or family needn’t be a chore. And it needn’t be expensive, either. Of course, the latest word processing programmes, computer technology, a library full of books or a year’s rental on a retreat to a villa in France, would all be welcome gifts. Bear in mind that the latter could be very pricey indeed, because most of us writers are broke much of the time so you’d definitely have to throw in air fare and stock the place with food.

But for more realistic purposes, here are a few writer pleasing ideas.

1)     Fancy pens, pencils, cute notebooks, or other desktop gadgets. Sure, we know we’re in the age of high tech, but there’s nothing like the allure of a clean, virginal page or a fancy new gel pen.

 

2)     A really good diary with at least a page per day for notes. Or more than a page, to help keep track of word counts, deadlines, book signings, talk events, submission dates, etc.

 

3)     The online version of The Writer’s Market.

 

4)     The online version of Writer’s Digest

 

5)     A comfy cushion for the desk chair – you’d be amazed just how numb one’s posterior can get after a few hours of typing madly, butt in chair….

 

6)     One of those little desk puzzles, to give the brain a break from words. Careful with the choice, though – nothing too difficult. Writers are all too familiar with failure, and not being able to do the Rubik’s Cube, for example, can begin a slow slide into depression as fast as any rejection letter.

 

7)     A pair of those woolly fingerless gloves, for typing when the power is out – or has been cut off – and there’s no heat.

 

8)     Woolly socks with tops that will fit over flannel pajama bottoms.

 

9)     Flannel pajama bottoms.

 

10)  A gift card for Starbucks or Tim Horton’s, so that your writer won’t get black looks after sitting in the warm café for hours, typing without buying…..

11)   Probably the very best gift for a writer costs nothing: Time. Yes, time to write without interruption is such a gift! Be a friend. Don’t take offence when your writer buddy rolls her eyes at your suggestions that the two of you go out, when you know she’s on deadline. Offer to take the kids for a couple of hours, cook a meal, pick up groceries, dry cleaning, kids from school. Don’t talk for hours on the phone. Listen when she needs a sounding board, otherwise give her some space.

 

Trust me, she or he will eventually emerge from the writing cave, eager and ready for human interaction again……one the writing is done. Until the next book, of course….

 

 

All About Winters & Somers - My Irish Detective Novel.

Irish PI, Cíara Somers, makes a good living testing the ‘temptability quotient’ of men for their insecure lovers…but when NY homicide cop and author of red hot romances, Jonathon Winters, makes her take him on as a partner in her Dublin agency, he gets the wrong message from her raunchy style . . . especially when he wants her for himself.
Somers isn’t the type to let a man push her around – the incorrigible Grannie Somers raised her to be her own woman. But when she discovers that even Grannie drools over the sexy Winters, she can’t help but wonder what it would be like to indulge in one of the fantasies that have millions of women reading his romantic books.
And when Somers finally gets her first real case – to capture the notorious jewel thief dubbed The Diamond Darling – she has to survive the help of her weird relatives, the landlady from hell, two stoned friends, a stray dog – and Winters himself . . .

Cíara Somers prowled among the top drawer clientele of the exclusive Dublin nightclub, her scarlet lips pursed in a sexy pout.

When a hearty male hand slapped her bum, she clamped down on her instinctive reaction to impale the man’s foot to the shiny wooden floors with her wicked four-inch stiletto heel. Instead, she cracked a sultry smile and batted her dark eyelashes provocatively.

After all, she was working tonight. And you could hardly blame the poor darlings. Frankly, any man who didn’t respond to her artfully designed siren’s call had to be dead. At least from the neck down.

The nightclub catered to very rich business and professional Dubliners – the place positively reeked of money – but she was after a specific fish, so it wouldn’t do for a woman like her to draw too much attention to herself. If the eagle-eyed club management copped on to what she was up to, she’d be thrown out on her mini-skirted rear end.

She spotted her prey over by the bar, drinking alone and looking sorry for himself. Bingo! He looked exactly ready for the company of a beautiful, sympathetic blonde. Straightening her back to accentuate the rounded swell of her breasts, Cíara sashayed up to the bar with a hip-sway that would raise any healthy hetero male’s blood pressure off the charts.

She leaned on the bar, the action pressing her cleavage into a picture that instantly mesmerized the barman and several other men. But here was the tricky part – to attract only the one she wanted.

Attracting him wasn’t hard at all. The tall, thin man on her right turned his head to follow the barman’s gaze – and was hooked immediately. Slowly, his eyes traveled from her chest to linger on her mouth, before taking a slow detour to her toes while taking in other vital areas along the way.

“Well, hello there,” he growled. A wolfish smile lit up his face and he treated her to a display of crooked teeth. She suppressed a shudder. This was work, after all, but just occasionally it would be nice to work on a guy she really fancied.

Later she’d remember the old saying about being careful what you wished for in case it came true, but tonight she was just another working girl.

So she returned the smile, twitching her lower lip into that full ruby pout that men found so irresistible. She let a wave of blonde hair fall forward over one eye as she languidly stretched out a sun-tanned hand and drew a blood-red fingernail down his shirtfront.

“Hello, yourself,” she purred, and watched with satisfaction as he swallowed the bait.

Thirty minutes later, she extricated herself from her target’s roaming hands, giggled throatily and excused herself with the need to powder her nose.

“Don’t be too long, baby, I’m having a hard time waiting!” he leered, and gave her an indulgent slap on her behind as she walked away. Cíara turned to wink at him and blow a scarlet-lipped kiss in his direction.

He’d already invited her back to his place for a nightcap ‘…and whatever else we fancy!’

Shockingly, Yes, This Is Me, Praising Winter....

I live in 'cottage country' in Ontario. We have lots of temporary residents & tourists in the summertime, and then in the winter many of our friends head south to escape the snow and ice.

In the spring and summer we have bugs as big as pterodactyls, and the humidity is something else again.  I do love the fall, when the leaves in this wooded area put on their beauty pageant.

But I like winter. Yes, I do. Ironically, I don’t do winter sports – Did you ever see that Disney film about Bambi? Remember Bambi on ice, when the poor little critter was slipping& sliding everywhere? Well, that's me. Can't keep my balance to save my, er, dignity. I did try cross-country skiing once, but it was too embarrassing to watch the four and five year olds skiing past me as I sat on my rear in the snow, skis pointing skywards…

So what, you may ask, makes me sing the praises of winter?

Well, aside from the sheer beauty of it all, there's a serious snowstorm coming in – they say it will be a bad one. Tomorrow's trip to Ottawa will be white knuckled at times, and we'll bless every snow plow we meet. Sometimes the bad weather wipes out our satellite internet connection, possibly for as long as several days. Yes, I hate that – oh, but all the extra time I find in my day…

And it's quiet. I'm sitting here now, in my office, and watching the snow which started as a few flurries, gaining in strength until it becomes a thick curtain which will almost obscure the chicken coop on the other side of the driveway.

And I am writing. This is my first blog in months. My first writing in months. There has been a lot going on in life, distractions good and bad, that have meant taking some sort of action. Now, with the snow building, it's quiet and peaceful. All the worries and pleasures demanding attention have to be set aside – everything comes to a halt.

It's cozy and quiet in my tiny office with the huge window looking out onto the landscape that's rapidly changing into a winter wonderland. There are three cats sleeping on the pillows beside me, the computer is working - the power hasn't gone off yet - and I've a hot cup of tea right here...

It's peaceful and did I say how good it feels to be writing again at last?