Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
For Readers, writers and Movie Buffs at Leisure.
Read Lyn Jug's great review of Colleen Mccullough's latest book, The Independence of Miss Mary Bennett, the least prepossessing of the Bennett girls of Pride and Prejudice. I always felt sorry at the way Movie and Television portrayed poor Mary.
See the books of authors featured as Author of the month during 2011. Enough reading for 2012.
Travel News this month features Battle Abbey in Kent. Those who follow Ruth and Country House Rescue on the ABC will be interested to see how the old Abbey is surviving in these modern times.
Plenty more in Calamity's Corner plus a little writing exercise for those who like to write.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
It was interesting reading about Rick Bylina whose books I had critiqued on Novels.com And to put a face to the man. I'm glad he's published his books. I enjoyed reading them as well as critiquing them.
Carole Sutton, another writer, I met on Novels, has an exciting story to tell about a pair of Maned Wood Ducks who managed to leave two of their large brood behind. Carole and husband, Bill, managed to unite the family.
I look forward each month to read the movie and book reviews. Your review about the old movie, The House on the Square featuring that heart throb of the 50's and earlier, Tyrone Power, and Ann Blyth. I wonder if you will like the film when you see it again. You'll have to let your readers know if you do.
Sometimes it's better not to return to old loves. I really loved Judy Garland's movie, Meet Me in St Louis when I saw it as a teenager. Seeing it on TV not so long ago I thought how awful it was.
Contact firstname.lastname@example.org for a free download of Calamity's Corner
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
I pulled out The Rainbow Children who helped Edna Echidna find a new home. The Boy who told Fibs who couldn't stop telling whoppers before the event of a little brown man. Sam, a budding author, shocks his newfound friends, Sebastian and Emma, with the picture of a docodile. I even have a book cover created by my good friend, Wendy. So look out there among all the rest for my book.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Friday, September 9, 2011
Prue's Character... Lalita.. another great interview.
Two incredible interviews with visual imagery courtesy of Richard Armitage. Nothing wrong with drooling is there? Oh, the words are pretty cool too. What terrific characters Prue has created.
The story is already on my MUST read pile, with images of Richard, I mean Finnian fresh in my mind, I have just switched A Thousand Glass Flowers to the top of the pile.
Thanks to Maria Grazia for hosting Prue's character Finnian and Were, Vamps Romance for the Lalita blog post.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Yup, Touch of Evil is now live and selling on Lulu (print version) and Smashwords (ebook). Both versions are now selling and doing okay, print strangely enough a little better than I thought. With all the hooplah about ebooks outstripping print about a million to one, i sort of expected the ebooks to be downloaded a little faster but no. Most people I speak to still want the feel of paper under their finger tips. One person even remarked that she preferred to dog-ear her pages rather than press a 'bookmark' button.
Okay. Whatever floats your boat. But thanks to those who have bought the book. I hope you like it and enjoy it and tell your friends. The more likes I get, the better chance i have to revisit the TV show again.
But seriously, amongst us friends, and it will go no further than my next facebook post, who truly prefers paper books over ebooks? We've all read the reports. What's your fave and if you have a reason, why?? Is it sentimentality or a'feel' thing, ease or what? Let me know coz I am seriously interested.
But what next?
Well, a special hardback edition of my short story "Gone to Mum's" is going thru at the moment, with an afterword explaining a few things that aren't in there. Hoping to have it done soon, say three weeks. Sooner would be better. The usual hassle (acceptable cover) is the holdup, but having had another of my late-nite brainwaves, might have the second coolest cover in my life happening with the cutest goddaughter inn the world on there. That's cover number 2, not the second best. Wait and see. More when it happens.
Beyond that, getting into Transported Legends: Halloween. With luck it will be done Halloween Eve, with a big party here for the release. Looking to get the community involved with maybe a riverside spooky story competition and maybe danceoff or something. Not a lot of time to set it up, but the plan is starting to come together.
So much to do, so little time.
Thanks for listening.
Friday, September 2, 2011
2nd September 2011
Reviewer: Carole Sutton
Historical fiction at its best
The Unhewn Stone by Wendy Laharnar
The Unhewn Stone is a fantasy tale about a young man, Stefan Gessler who returns to the time of his ancestors in the 14th Century. His primary task is to restore honour to his family name, destroyed by the William Tell legend, and secondly to learn how to change base metals into gold. Starting off as a callow youth, Stefan grows with the story to become an accomplished man.
Fantasy is not my preferred genre, but once I started this story I became drawn in to the plight of Stefan, as a modern young man, disfigured in looks, suffering from unrequited love, and bereft at the death of his dog. As the story progresses we venture into fantasy land, I continued to read, caught by the adventures of the 14th C. Stefan and his ancient family. One fascinating aspect is that Stefan retains his 21st C. outlook which at times contrasts sharply with those of his 14th C. cousins. I enjoyed his comparisons. I found the magical elements were written convincingly enough that I had no trouble suspending my disbelief.
Stefan remains very human with his faults, his sometimes overbearing attitude getting him into more trouble than necessary. He grows with the plot. He builds a good relationship with his distant cousin Rolf and various friends. The tale is sweetened by the love of Rolf and Eva Tell. It kept me reading as it bounded from one adventure after another with Stefan and Rolf fleeing their enemies, both human and spiritual in the various guises of a sibyl who is determined to steal Stefan's half of his orb and thus prevent him from returning to his own time.
The ending built up into a page turning climax that satisfied this reader.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
This post will take several tangent. this is but one of them:
Touch has thusfar sold but 2 copies as an ebook. Strange. True I haven['t exactly been out there pushing it down people throats. Been focussed on a couple of other things. But still, with ebooks having a rise of 1024% in the oast year and print falling somewhat, where are the people (friends, relatives) who might buy the book. Dunno, but I am looking into it.
Once I got my head aroiund it, LULU was easy to get along with. A long while ago, my good mate Pip publisjhed a wonderful book called "Faces in the Street" a wonderful book about the life and times of Henry Lawson. He used LULU, and his book cost a fortune. (well worth the money, but steep if you were just looking). Touch came in at just over half the size of Faces, but where Pip's book was processed in Portugal and posted from there ($20.00 freight + $35.00 for the book) I can sell Touch for $14.95 with freight being less than $10.00 and still make a dollar per book!!! why you shout as you jump up and down in delight. Because they print and send for Oceania and SE Asia from Brizbane. So YAY for LULU. Plus they now list freely wit Amazon and Barnes and Noble and all them lot. Probably Angus and Robertson/Dymocks et al as well. Now makes self publishing a little more affordable for us.
So, in a couple of days Touch of Evil will be available everywhere. I have thought about a special edition hardcover. Maybe , maybe not. it will truly be a special edition, meant for me and a few choice people who have helped me in some big ways. also thinking about am audiobook, but the reader is the key there, and I only trust 2 people to read for me. we'll see on that score.
So now, I ask that if you like a little speculation in your fiction, a little thought in your light entertainment then please take a look at Touch of Evil. I like it, I think you will too.
Thanks for listening.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
That last moment, as i sat there waiting for the manuscript to pass through Smashword's 'meatgrinder' twice as formatting problems made me go thru for a second and third time then just waiting. 10%. 25%. Real slow at 50%. 80%. 99%. Then a long wait. Faith starts to evaporate about then, because time just dilates. The Eagles said 'The hours go by like minutes' in the song "Wasted time' but that time there, sitting, waiting for Mr 100% to tick over seemed like a second short of forever
Then it ticked over. Submitted, confirmed, accepted. By my own hand, with the help of someone I've never met, my ebook is now for sale on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, and a half dozen other sites.
I suppose if this were the Academy Awards, I'd be thanking God and a few important people. I'd like to thank my friends the Nitewriters, in particular Toni, Rosalie and Robyn for their writerly input, but all the others for their support. Writing can be the most singular pursuit a person can take on. Only you can write your book, but the right people can help you by suggesting, reading, encouraging. No writer is truly alone if one has friends and peers like I do.
So, I offer you my work. A large part of my life and sanity has gone into it. It's three dollars. If you read it and like it, please let me know. If you don;t like it, break it to me gently, coz i bruise easily. but still let me know.
With thanks to all.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
My son created the video and wrote the haunting music for it. Thanks Mark and Ryan for performing the instumentals. I'm a very proud Mum and G'mother :)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
We all know how stressful creating your own, or having your cover created can be. Wendy covers the topic well.
See what she has to say...
The Book Cover: Vanguard of Promotion
I know how she feels... Covers can help you feel confident about your promotion, or they can leave you underwhelmed. I have had both experiences.
At least if you make your own, as others in this group have done brilliantly, and with success, you only have yourself to blame.
When you work with a Cover Artist, the waiting is difficult and often learning to live with your cover takes time.
I think Wendy can rest easy with her cover. :)
Don't forget, the Unhewn Stone is due for release on Friday 12th August.
Friday, August 5, 2011
I loved reading about romance author, Pat Mc Dermott's wonderful cruise from SanFrancisco to Alaska with bits of history mixed in as well.
Reviewer LJ Roberts has another great book review, a book I just know I'll have to buy. Books make great gifts too.
Best wishes to Wendy whose first book, The Unhewn Stone, will be published this month. A wonderful book for young adults. Set in the Switzerland in the era of William Tell - was he a mythical person or not - The Unhewn Stone is an adventure story made even more exciting with magic and the arts of the Alchemist who tried to change base metals into gold.
I've read The Unhewn Stone in draft and can recommend it as an exciting read. Look for it when it's published.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
(as long as you pay for it)
I'm busy - busy constructing a web page for an upcoming book - Falling into Queensland. Not a naughty book this time, but a crime/adventure story set in the far north. You can find the web page here . The page sets out the background to the story, especially for people who have no idea what Queensland can look like. I have written a little about the story, but mainly I want to explain the context with comments and pictures. The page is changing hour by hour as I work on it.
The next step is to post an excerpt, and then I need some comments, or even a review or two. Any volunteers to look at it? Just message me below, or use the email link on my home page, and I will send you a pdf, epub, mobi or Kindle version.
©Jacqueline George All rights reserved.
Jacqueline George lives in Cooktown, Far North Queensland. She enjoys the relaxed lifestyle there, and finds plenty of time write books, some of which are far too naughty for her own good.
Jacqueline's home page
Monday, July 25, 2011
Available now. $65 (Aust)
For more information regarding the journal visit...
Dane Beesley website http://photodane.com/
Splitting the Seconds, a photographer's journal...
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Ten f@#$ing years!!!!!
I'll tell the truth. I have reached a point so many times where I've thought YES, I'm READY!! only to have something happen that just stuffed me and my project up. Faith was something that was fading from my life as a writer, despite the good things people I was being told by review readers.
This was the last Hurdle. Of course the picture killed Anton's computer. I would expect no less. But like the Hercules he is, Anton fought the twelve demons from Hell and got the thing done, better than I could have expected. It looks great. Everyone loves it so far. So, I sit here at the desk of pain and reset the clock for launch. My faith has returned, my enthusiasm now simmers back where it should be.
This is it.
Thanks for the patience. I've been talking about this for too long, but please bear with me just a short time more.
Touch of Evil, coming real soon.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Rob Healy has everything he wants, or will have once he’s built his new resort on a small island in the Pacific. A woman in his life isn’t planned at the moment, but when he sees Cassandra Kearns in the foyer looking stiff and out of place amongst the holiday makers his interest is spiked. What is a beautiful woman doing wearing a business suit and holding a laptop doing on an island resort, especially when there are no conferences booked that week?
Cassandra Kearns is fleeing New York and all that makes her comfortable for two idyllic weeks in the tropics. She’s stressed, overtired and close to breaking point. Her divorce is finalised, her daughter is grown and she’s realising that she’s on her own and dare she say it - lonely.
She needs to take some time and recharge her batteries. But how is she to do that? She’s worked 24/7 for years. Does she know how to have fun?
When Cassandra meets Rob she rejects the spark of attraction she feels. A man in her life, after the betrayal of Oliver? She’d rather eat broken glass!
Yet Rob is persistent, he’s funny and he’s gorgeous, but what exactly does he want?
The music changed to a faster tempo and some of the couples got up to dance. Rob got them another bottle of wine and refilled her glass. Cassandra studied him as he secured the bottle back in the sand. Had she ever met such a man as him before? Yes, he was attractive, but he had something else that drew not only her attention, but the stares of other women around him.
There was magnetic quality about Rob, a mixture of a devil-may-care attitude and an inner strength of purpose which fascinated her. Desire grew inside her, igniting, and she felt a delicious heat in the pit of her stomach. It had been so long since she'd throbbed in need for a man’s body.
Reggae thumped out of the speakers. Rob stood and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
“Really?” She stared, as he helped her to her feet. “You dance?”
“Don’t you?” He led her closer to the fire.
“I haven’t for a long time, and the men I know never dance, at least not to this type of music.”
He didn’t answer her as the music was turned up, and the Jamaican rhythm of steel drums and a Caribbean voice urged them to let themselves go.
Fired by the wine, the heat of the fire, and the music filling her senses, Cassandra was transported to another world, one full of sensual stimulus, of earthy primal urges: to eat, to frolic, to cavort. Nature’s way was very powerful, and she didn’t fight against it.
She raised her arms and swung her hips, dancing as she hadn’t done for a very long time. Laughing, Rob twirled her under his arm. The flames reflected off her gold shimmering dress. All the guests were dancing now, the music infectious, the atmosphere festive. Everyone seemed to just want to have fun, forget their problems and dance.
Cassandra squealed as Rob lifted her off her feet and spun her around. He stepped aside, grinning as a guy in his twenties came up to her and did a bit of dirty dancing with her, grinding his pelvis against hers, and she threw her head back and laughed. She felt young and completely alive. Within moments, he’d gone on to another woman, a young twenty something wearing hardly anything at all. The people around her were happy, and it had been forever since she'd felt this way.
The music changed to Salsa, and Rob took her in his arms and pulled her against him. Sexual need lit his blue eyes. He hungered for her. Her skin heated, longing for his touch.
Her smile melted away as the length of his body moved as one with hers, their steps not perfect, but instinctive, powerful. His shoulders muscles bunched beneath her hands. She ran her fingers down his back, and he tightened his hold even further.
They were locked in a dance as sexy and sensual as actually making love. Rob’s eyes never left hers, his mouth only inches from her touch. His hands cupped her hips, guiding them against his own. She shimmied, turned and, with her back to him, danced in a way she’d never done before. Every provocative movement was a gesture of intimacy, of want, of promise. Through music, their bodies touched, sending silent messages to one another. Rob flipped her around to face him again and slipped his thigh between hers. His hands slid down over her bottom, and she gasped at the ache throbbing inside her.
The music changed again, back to a pumping beat. Rob slowly released her, and she regained some of her sense and took a step back. Shocked at her wanton behaviour, her smile was perfunctory.
God, she hoped she hadn’t humiliated herself. She desperately wanted to sit down. What had gotten into her? She turned away from the bonfire and wandered away from the other dancers. Rob kept pace with her.
“Would you like to go for a walk up the beach?”
“No!” She jumped at the harshness of her refusal. “I mean no, sorry, thank you. I think it is time I went back to the beach house.” She gathered up her purse and shoes from the blanket, refusing to make eye contact.
“Please, Rob. I must go. Thank you for tonight. I had a great time.” She flashed him a tortured look, silently begging him not to say or do anything else. “Good night.”
As fast as she could run in the soft sand, she left the beach and headed up to the steps to the path. “What a mess,” she cried. Not bothering to put her heels back on, she ran along the shadowy path, away from Rob—wishing she could run away from the feeling he brought out in her, too.
Buy from Museit Up Publishing
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
No, I am NOT about to strip to my bare nakeds and run about outside, at a cricket match or even a ping pong tourney. If nothing else, it's too Bloody cold. No. This is another type of streak. (Have written about this before, but I have a habit of harping on things ...)
Inspiration. It comes and it goes. Where and when, nobody knows. Maybe I'm a lucky one, because I can walk down the road on any given morning and have three good story ideas before I get home. In all probability tho, by the time I sit down I've also probably forgotten all of them, or the thread of them. It's a little annoying.
I remember once, a fair while ago, I used to walk six k's along the highway to work. On the way I wrote the perfect story, one I'd had in my head for ages but could never get it just right.
You know what I mean? It's there, it makes sense, but it's not
It's called " The Cruise", and it's about youth in the country towns, the car culture that grows in small country areas because it's the only real route to freedom, and how some people build these cars, these wonderful, perfect pieces of automobilia and having spent their lives, their savings building what is - in their minds - the perfect escape machine, never going anywhere, except maybe around the block, or down the street, with a dozen others just like them on a Friday or Saturday night.
The story is beautiful. It has angst, pathos, feeling, heartbreak, you name it. And in that six k walk I had IT!! Did I write it down?
Did I record it, at least?
No. I still have the story, mostly complete, but what I have has no edge. It's not perfect. It's flawed. It isn't the story I told myself on that walk to while away the time before work, a story that just held me, and I was telling it to myself.
Back to inspiration.
I never feel at a loss for inspiration. Walking in a field one morning gave me a line. "The last of the summer spiders." All because where I was, the ground was covered in these tiny cone shaped webs strung between tall stalks of winter grass. Hundreds of webs. There was a story there, too, but all I have left is the line.
Ideas bounce through the hollow of my brain like dust motes, blown by a gale. I have tended to wait and see what takes root, what says a week. if it finds a home in one of the cob-webby corners of my brain, if it maybe grows a little, and if, only if it still grabs me after a week, it gets page space. sometimes it grows from there, sometimes it stagnates and just sits there, becalmed in a sea of ideas and thoughts and no wind of creativity to propel it further.
Sometimes it just gets forgotten.
Oh yeah, the streak.
In the past three/four weeks, I have written down maybe tw hundred bits and pieces that will maybe becoe stories. At the moment they are just germs, seeds waiting to burst forth and grow the roots I need in my mind to pay them some attention and nurture them little more to fullfilledness (is that a word? should be!). I have had a creative streak that is second to none in the past three years. I can create anything I want anywhere. It is that good at the moment.
But have I done anything? Have I tended the garden of creativity and brought forth a bounty of stories to amaze and astound? Have I?
Short answer: No.
I start, I stop, I move on to the next.
And I don't know why.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Leeds. 1870. Lonely and brokenhearted, Grace Woodruff fights for her sisters’ rights to happiness while sacrificing any chance for her own.
The eldest of seven daughters, Grace is the core of strength around which the unhappy members of the Woodruff family revolve. As her disenchanted mother withdraws to her rooms, Grace must act as a buffer between her violent, ambitious father and the sisters who depend upon her. Rejected by her first love and facing a spinster’s future, she struggles to hold the broken family together through her father’s infidelity, one sister’s alcoholism, and another’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy by an unsuitable match.
Caring for an illegitimate half-brother affords Grace an escape, though short-lived. Forced home by illness and burdened with dwindling finances, Grace faces fresh anguish –and murder– when her first love returns to wreck havoc in her life. All is not lost, however. In the midst of tragedy, the fires of her heart are rekindled by another. Will the possibility of true love lead Grace to relinquish her responsibilities in the house of women and embrace her own right to happiness?
Grace blinked to clear her frozen mind as her mother and Verity climbed the staircase. If Verity was here then was William here too? Movement at the door caused Grace to close her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to open them and see the one man she’d longed for since she was sixteen.
‘Miss Woodruff?’ Doyle inquired at her shoulder.
Startled, she spun to face him, but she was blind to him, blind to everything but the sensation of having William here. Crazily, she wondered if she would swoon like a maiden aunt.
Doyle’s hand reached out, but he quickly tucked it behind his back. ‘What is it, Miss Woodruff?’
Grace swallowed, feeling the fine hairs on her arms and nape prickle. He is here.
'Good evening, Grace.’
At the sound of William’s deep velvety voice, her heart stopped beating, only to start again at a rapid pace. Her stomach clenched and her legs felt unable to support her anymore. Slowly, she swivelled to gaze into William’s blue-green eyes and knew she was lost again. William smiled his captivating smile. He had aged, no, matured since their last meeting. He looked leaner, but broader in the shoulders. There was an aura about him, something that females of any age wanted. He made all other men around him seem insignificant. A magnetism, a mystical air surrounded him, catching Grace in its clutches once more.
Order The House of Women from Amazon.com, or The Book Depository, which has free postage and currently on discount.
For more information about me or my books, please visit my website.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Wendy posted very recently about her characters not doing as she wants, which is often the characters wont. Characters are like children, and - strangely enough - exactly like the actors who will perhaps portray them at some future moment, usually when you are dead and your estate sells your back catalogue cheap coz they have no idea what REAL art is worth.
Having had a little to do with serious thespians, I find that like some characters, they are spoilt, lazy, ornery and at times idiotic. Treat them as equals. threaten the crap out of them. Bring in new characters who will work harder and cheaper and do what they're told (at least until they get known and become just like those they replace).
But on the subject of characters (and not multiple personalities), I offer this little piece I wrote a while back about characters. Please enjoy (I did say please :) )