365 Days of Writing

  One sentence The best thing about today -- and it was a very relaxed and good day! -- was getting to spend it with my husband and Little One. 

  One-ish sentence I'm engrossed in my current read. It took over 200 pages, but the main character finally is getting her act together. 

  One sentence Nap time reading, church, conversations in the car with the hubby, playing with Little One: Sundays encapsulated. 

  One sentence I always find it a bit strange when I get invested in a story if I’m not overly keen about the main character.

  Poem -- Waking Up You open your eyes and smile As you look into my face, Nestle back into the crook of my arm Your very favourite place. There’s such surety in your eyes That I’ll always be there And yet there’s also such delight. You trust my love and care. Oh my sweet sweet little one I cherish all these moments.

  Short Story -- The Picnic Her favourite part of spring was seeing the trees bud and blossom. It was all of the green. Today she was treating herself to a day out. A day outside. The sun was shining. The birds were swooping and soaring and singing. And it was the perfect temperature: warm enough for sandals and cool enough for a jumper if you were in the shade. She packed everything she’d wanted into a small backpack and was walking to her favourite park. It was along the river. The nature was beautiful. The city wasn’t far away. And there were always plenty of interesting people to watch. She was now sitting on a small blanket in the sun, listening to the gentle sound of the water. She’d pulled out her picnic: a sandwich, some crisps, some fruit, and a chocolate brownie for dessert all packed in neat little containers. She’d also set to the side her current read and a journal. She was indulging in a cosy mystery read at the moment. It had an extravagant setting and a quirky cast ...

  Reflection Yesterday I finished reading  The Book of Disappearance  by Ibtisam Azem.  It’s sort of dual POV. There are chapters narrated by Alaa, a Palestinian man, but they are told through his written reflections from a red notebook. And there are chapters narrated by Ariel, an Israeli man. They live in the same building and became friends when they met at a party years ago.  And I am still thinking about this book.  <Maybe spoilers ahead?> The premise of the novel is that one day out of the blue, Israelis wake up and the Palestinians have just disappeared. They’re not at work or in their homes or prisons or interaction cells or refugee camps within Israel. They’re just gone. Of course, this leads to the question: How did they disappear? / What happened to them?  Ariel, a journalist, in the process of trying to understand ends up letting himself into Alana’s flat (he has a key) and finding a red notebook. He starts to read it. And by doing so...

  Short Story -- One Dark Night  It sounded as though a giant sheet was being shaken as the wind barreled past outside. Rain splattered, staccato against the roof and windows. It wasn’t heavy. Just wielded like bullets from a gun by the wind. The sky was black, because it was night, not just because of the clouds.  And Lucy sat up quietly in her bed. The light from her bed stand casting a warm glow and chasing the shadows to the corners of her room. She was nestled under a plush, warm duvet and had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  A book was sitting open and face down across her lap. The Fall of the House of Usher and other stories. It had been abandoned as she listened to the gale outside.  She was not alone in the house. There were her family, presumably in their rooms, and the live in staff. But sitting there listening to the wind, she felt… solitary.  Everything was silent, except for the wind and the rain outside.  She picked her book back...

  One sentence I have finished one book and started another.

  One sentence There was a stunning sunset.

  Short Story  She woke to the morning call to prayer. It wasn’t a sound that was usually a part of her routine, but as the days passed, it because a familiar ritual — waking up to the morning call to prayer. She changed into her clothes for the day and quietly headed out to the kitchen. In the adjacent living room, the News would be on the tv. She and one host would sit and drink coffee and watch the news. Then it’d be time for her to leave. She loved this walk. The sun was coming up. The streets were quiet but there was an energy to them as shop owners put up awnings, washed the spaces in front of shops, and started arranging tables. The smell of fresh bread lingered in the air near one of the bakeries. Voices carried over the stillness: a baker and a delivery driver. It would take her around half an hour to walk from her hosts’ house to the hotel where she’d meet up with the other volunteers. As her she neared her destination, more and more school children and parents out w...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 32 The next several days passed with Mr Millings arriving at Monkshood Manor in the morning, he and Teddy spending the day sorting and repairing and painting up-upstairs, and then him staying for dinner before retiring to his own home for the evening. And retired he had for the day. It was now dark outside. And Teddy was drifting off to sleep as the embers burned low the grate of her fireplace, when her eyes flew open. Something had woken her and she strained her ears for sounds. The house seemed to shudder, a ripple that carried through her. ‘What is it?’ she queried of the house. And that’s when she heard floor boards creaking below. ‘I don’t suppose that’s Mrs Winter or Mr Drey?’ she asked the house. Her room still dark, outlines of furniture discernible only from the last embers’ glow. The house shuddered again. ‘I thought not,’ she said carefully swinging her legs out of bed and tying on a robe. ‘Please alert them if you haven’t already.’...

  Short Story -- The Weight  She woke up not remembering the dream itself but the feeling of it. The weight of it. Something she simultaneously wanted to find again and push away from. She brushed her hair and washed her face. She ate breakfast and brushed her teeth. She made coffee and she headed to work. Still, there was a weight. And she couldn’t even remember what the dream was about! It was like a flavour or a smell that you knew you recognized but couldn’t place. At work, she settled in at her desk. Opened, read and replied to emails. Exchanged polite conversation with coworkers. Worked on a pitch for an upcoming project. Contacted vendors about a project she was already assigned to. Gradually the weight feeling eased. She had lunch with a few coworkers outside at a picnic table. She bought a sandwich at the cafeteria. Tuna fish. The afternoon looked much like the morning. And then it was time to go home. In her flat, she changed into leggings and a Tshirt, put in her ea...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 31 Teddy was eating breakfast when Mr Drey entered the dining room. ‘Mr Millings is here, Miss.’ ‘Oh!’ Teddy said, scrambling up, a few crumbs from toast scattering and then sitting back down. ‘Please show him in.’ Mr Drey left and returned a few minutes later with Mr Millings in tow. Teddy stood up. ‘Please,’ she said gesturing to the table, ‘help yourself to some breakfast.’ After a pause she added, ‘And hello!’ Mr Millings tentatively took a seat to Teddy’s left. ‘I’ve already eaten, thank you.’ Seeing her face fall a bit, he added, ‘But I will take some coffee if that’s alright.’ Teddy passed the pot to him. ‘So, what’s the plan for today?’ she asked. ‘Since presumably rooms for the orphans and staff are integral to your orphanage and school plan, I thought we’d start there. Today, we go up, strip walls, move debris and rubbish, and clean. Hopefully tomorrow we can start painting and repairs.’ Teddy brushed the last crumbs from her fingers...

  Reflection ‘I used to think the same, but now I see our country through the tourists’ eyes. It’s not always easy to understand that what you see everyday is beautiful.’ — an observation made by one of her guides, from Sovietstan by Erika Fatland I definitely know from my own experiences living outside of the country I grew up in, that I view it with tourist eyes now and see beauty in it that I didn’t notice as much as when I lived there. And now I’m thinking about all of the places I’ve been blessed to call home.

  Journal I don’t know how other moms feel, but for me, there’s a window in the evening. It lasts somewhere between one hour and two. And it’s HARD! Little One (LO) is starting to get tired. Nothing is quite right. There’s more fussing. More clinging. And it makes sense. I totally get all of it! But the problem is: I’m starting to get tired, too. And there’s still dinner to eat and then dishes to do. Sometimes, like this evening, there’s laundry to hang up. And we’re in the same room together. LO in a high chair or walker or on a blanket on the floor with some toys. Me sitting next to him on the floor while I balance a bowl of food on my hand or have it set on the sofa like a table. Me at the sink. Me pivoting between the table where the pile of wet clothes is sat in interim between being taken out of the washing machine but before being hung on the drying rack. LO likes songs, so I sing. The wheels on the bus go round and round… The itsy bitsy spider… A, B, C, D… This little piggy...

  Journal It's Mothers' Day here and we spent a wonderful day together as a family exploring Anglesey Abbey and also Cambridge.  Anglesey Abbey most recently was the home to the Fairhavens, two brothers from the US who came to the England to indulge in their dreams of idyllic country living and horse racing. It turns out they were also great friends with the Queen Mother!  It was also fun to just walk around Cambridge, which none of us had ever been to before. It's a beautiful city with an ample number of bookshops! We snuck peeks into several of the colleges. And we visited a couple of bookstores. We also quickly walked to the river, but it was raining by that point and we had a bus to catch so it was a brief stop.  

  Journal? Author Feature Fridays have definitely been one highlight of this year so far! Currently, 22 authors have sent me their answers and everything is assembled. Thirteen of those authors have already been featured. Nine are yet to come! And I have at least three other authors who have said they’ll participate and I’m just waiting for their answers. One of the neat side effects of this has been a handful of new to me authors are now in my radar (as several authors I’ve featured have then suggested author friends to be featured or their author friends have reached out asking)! Here are three examples: I’ve now read Beverly Twomey’s What the Sea Brings. I didn’t just read it. It reduced me to tears (in a sad but good way!) in the wee hours of the morning when I was awake holding baby so he would sleep. It’s YA fantasy, but so well written and with such a message. It’s about friendship and family and doing the right thing. Absolutely recommend! I’ve also now read Spindle by WR G...

  Journal I am so thankful for the sun! I’m loving having good books to read (just started Sovietstan and can already tell it’s going to be great!)! And celebrating friends tonight with fish and chips!

  Short Story -- Moving House Moving house was bittersweet. He was excited! He really was. The new house was bigger and just seemed a better fit. This new house probably wouldn’t get as much sun. It faces westerly. But it had more space. He was also a little sad. Before, he’d been house mates with his best friend. They’d gotten on swimmingly. But by the end he knew he was sort of overtaking the space. Yes, it was better this way. So, he stretched toward the sun shining in through the open window. And he listened to one neighbour tell a story to her baby. He heard the kids across the street genially ribbing each other as they got in the car to go to school. And he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He’d check in on Celia, his best friend and former house mate, soon. But today, Jim Bob was just going to enjoy all the space of his new home and the sounds of his new neigbourhood.

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 30 ‘I’m sorry for the other day,’ Mr Millings said quietly standing next to Teddy and looking down at his tea. ‘For just leaving like I did.’ He paused. ‘It’s just… I knew what the Inspector would find, at least in regards to my family, if he went looking in the records. And I know what sort of man Arthur was.’ Teddy looked at Mr Millings. ‘You are not responsible for anyone’s behaviour but your own,’ she said gently and he looked up. ‘And I think you are a real man of character.’ Now it was his turn to blush. Across the room, Lady Genevieve and the Inspector were both standing next to the side board. ‘Nice spread that Althea lays out,’ he offered. ‘Now, now, Inspector,’ Lady Genevieve said smiling mischievously, ‘You didn’t come over here to talk about Althea’s food.’ He looked uncomfortable and pulled at his top button. ‘You deal with criminals,’ she continued completely aware of what she was saying, ‘Do don’t be shy around me.’ He squared h...

  Short Story -- Monkshood Manor: Part 29 A couple of days later everyone was assembled in the Drawing Room. Teddy had reached out to each individually and offered an invitation and explained what she hoped this council and sharing of ideas might provide. This council included: Teddy, Mrs Winter, Mr Drey, Lady Genevieve, the Inspector, Charles Millings and even Mr Reed. Teddy and Mrs Winter had assembled the furniture — a couple of settees and some arm chairs interspersed with end tables — into a circle. ‘Wow! We’re like the Knights of the Round Table!’ Genevieve said gleefully. ‘I like it!’ Of course, Mrs Winter had also laid out on a side table a spread of cheeses, meets, fruit, cakes and sandwiches, along with tea, coffee and cocoa. After everyone was sitting, Mrs Winter said purposefully, ‘Well, Teddy, my dear, this is your meeting so you should get it started.’ Everyone looked at Teddy. She blushed a little in embarrassment. ‘Well, um, as most of you know, there’s been a lot h...