when men was iron and ships was wood...

 ...or something. It's a phrase my late father in law used—sort of. I may have it wrong. But basically he used it for as he said 'when I were a lad'. I.E a long time ago.

(Source: Freepik on pinterest)

It came to mind, because recently, on holiday, I've been reading some old favourites, which were all written well over half a century ago. As in when I was a child. 

Miss Read, (about village life) Doreen Tovey (Siamese cats), Lillian Beckwith  a middle-aged lady moving to Skye), James Heriot, (Vet in Yorkshire), Nicholas Rhea (Policeman in Yorkshire,) and so on.

Apart from loving the memories some of these stories bring back, it's fascinating to read just how life was then. Especially when you visit the areas written about and think, oh I bet that's where so and so lived. Or whatever.

It's a great way to learn about history that's not centuries ago. About people and places. Lives and living conditions. Employment and education.

I'm well over my half century. I can remember some of the things I'm reading about. I have very vague memories of Keith, the butcher who came around in his little white (I think) van. When he opened the back doors there was a set of scales and some bits of meat. As meat rationing didn't end until 1954, he was the man you gave your coupons to and you got what he had. I don't remember any of that, but my mum told me all about it.

There was also the bread van, Mr Bradshaw's mobile shop and of course the milkman and his deliveries. Which were left on the doorstep and if the sun was out, you better be at home so you didn't have curdled milk.

How things have changed.

But it's good to read about those days of over seventy years ago, from the horses mouth so to speak. Speaking of horses, the rag and bone man, Mr Smith, used to come round with his horse and cart, and beg a drop of milk and hot water for his tea can.

I've had a book fest over the last few weeks. As my lovely husband says, thank goodness for eReaders. 

Because I always used to take at least one book for each day of my holiday. Which meant a lot of my clothes had to go in his suitcase and he was sure, one day, his case would be opened and a pile of ladies undies be pulled out.

Thankfully it never happened. Now I pack my undies in my own suitcase. 

Happy reading,

love, Raven xxx

The gluten-free Authors guide to...

 What do you call it again?

Actually It's not fizz, but I felt like using that image (Source pinterest). Otherwise it would have been this one again.

Which, let's face it, does get used a lot in my blogs.

And I am thinking again here. 

About labels.

Specifically labels about whether something is gluten-free or not. 

One of the first things I started to do with diligence when I found out that gluten was a no-no, was read labels. Lists of ingredients. The various signs that denote whether something included wheat or barley or rye or oats. 

Years ago, I tried to make sure I could say please, thank you, could I have the bill and where is the toilet please, in several languages, I needed to add, 'without gluten', and Coeliac to my lists.

Sin gluten, senza glutine, sem gluten, etcetera. Checking if Trigo or Cevada is in the list of ingredients, or farine de ble—with apologies for the lack of an accent there.  Writing those important words down in the language of whatever country I'm in. 

Plus fathoming out how restaurant menus work.

Some do a blanket, 'may contain' and stick a picture of wheat on everything. Better to be safe than sorry, but I do sometimes wonder how a green salad contains gluten. Yes, I know its the chance of cross contamination!

Some do the crossed grain no gluten thing and you can tell that the chicken curry or steak and chips are safe.

Others say 'ask you server' and that can be tricky. I got told a certain brown sauce was gluten free because it had no wheat in it. It did however have barley and malt vinegar, and is not recommended. Sometimes it's easier to eat at home.

However we've recently visited the lovely island of Lanzarote, and I've been able to eat our really well. Except at Burger King, which advertises gluten free buns. Ohh I thought, I'll try one. I'm not a big burger fan, but the temptation was there. So the lovely husband ordered, paid, queued, and when they eventually called his 'number out it was to tell him they didn't have any glute free buns!

That was twenty minutes we'll never get back.

That apart, we have some great curries, lots of delicious cataplana and of course paella. To say nothing of the basics, like steak and chips.

And my Spanish, for 'gluten free please', and reading the labels is coming on a treat.

(Source Pinterest)

If you're in Playa Blanca at ny time and want a good gluten free curry, try the Mumbai Masala in the Rubicon, and for seafood, Casual Seafood in Faro Park.

For snacks (and popcorn and peanuts with a drink) try Cafe Berrugo also in the Rubicon.

And honestly there's a lot of places to chose from. Just don't expect the gluten free roll at Burger King!

Happy eating (and label reading)

love Raven xxx

Too far fetched? Here's the details

 I was going over some old writing related emails the other day, and deleting stuff that was no longer relevant. I must admit I did wonder why I'd ever thought I'd need to keep so many that were really just notes to say something had arrived or edits would be coming in x amount of time.

So the delete button was being kept busy.

(Source:pinterest)

Some of those emails made me squirm, some made me laugh and some made me glad that I enjoy research. and often use things and places I know in my books.

Take for instance the time I was told that the hotel where my heroine was stopping was not correct. That no five star hotel would have catering facilities in their rooms or suites. I sent details of their website and a photo of me using said facilities. Probably didn't make me very popular but hey ho. 

Or the time I was told that if I didn't put an 'E' in whisky, it could be construed by many people as a typo. To which I replied that as my other half was a director of a whisky company (no 'E') if I did put an 'E' in the word I'd be divorced. I was of course writing about Scottish Whisky which doesn't have an 'E' in it. Now it's a standing joke amongst my friends. Plus I tend to describe the drink as a malt or whatever. 

(Source TCM Gourmet)

I know I'm lucky to be able to use so much personal knowledge as well as the ever so handy on-line sites, and also that I enjoy research. somethings you don't need to go into great details about, but others, well yes you do.

To me, there's nothing more likely to make me stop reading a  book if something is so obviously very wrong. 

It doesn't matter how an author writes a detailed description of a journey north from Perth (Scotland) to Edinburgh—it is not correct. And to be honest any map will show you that.

(Source, as shown)

A specific hospital in a certain city does not have an Accident and Emergency department. It tells you on their website. A public house in xxxx closes at midnight  (or whatever) 

There's no mountain in East Yorkshire. I could go on and on, but I won't.

Yes I get things wrong, of course I do. But some things are easily checked. And if written sources can't confirm what you want to know, there's usually someone somewhere who can.

After all so many of us have been there, done that, or if we haven't we know someone who has.

On that note I'm off to check my details about smugglers in East Yorkshire are correct. Not that to my knowledge do I know any smugglers, but I do have a fabulous library nearby.

Happy research,

love Raven xxx

Around the world in 80 loos

 A bit of an exaggeration but hey ho. 

I was queueing for the loo in a well know department store recently, and as I patiently waited for my turn, legs not quite crossed, I began to ponder.

Just how many different loos, and types of water closets (posh eh?) had I used over my years? 

(Source, pinterest)

Then darn it, where are the pictures of some of the more unusual ones?

(this pic is one my lovely husband too)

The rest are in the loft, so sorry, very few pictures in this blog.

But the memories!

(lovely and posh this one. Not one I've used alas, but thanks to pinterest) 

From the long drops in Australia and holes in the ground, filled with rubbish at the top—and bottom—of the Great Wall of China, to the do I squat lean or hop ones in various places to the ultra swish get your bottom washed and dried ones in Japan, There's been a lot of loos.

(source, also pinterest)

So many different ones.

I remember as a child going to the house of one of my mum's friends mum in a tiny village. The toilet was in an outhouse. That was fine so were my grandparents. But this one was different. How did you flush it?

I went back inside and whispered to mum. She took me back out and showed me a bucket full of earth, and handed me a small shovel. That was my first experience of an earth closet loo. 

Then the similar one in Arrass where my penfriends gran lived. That was outside as well, but had several tiny holes in the walls.

"Bullet holes from the war," I was told. "We've left them there for the history!"

Then there's sometimes the problem of do you pull a chain nad hope it doesn't break or overfill the cistern?  Push or twist a handle? Stand up fast as the loo flushes automatically? Wave your hand in front of a button?

(and again, source pinterest)

Panic because there doesn't seem to be any way to flush? 

All to spend a penny (or a fiver these days?)

Take the toilet on the landing of a house we were to rent. A long wooden board with three different sizes of holes in it. One to fit any sized bottom! Luckily it wasn't the only loo in the house, but as it has been one of the first water closets in the area, it had been kept for posterity. I hasten to add we are advised not to use it.

There are a couple at a ferry port in Hong Kong where you join a queue and cross your fingers it's not the squatting loo that's available when it's your turn. Because of course that would be when you're in leggings or tight jeans! 

And don't forget to remember the customs of the country you're in. It's oh so true that there as many types of loos as countries.

When I was a child one of my friends went to Calais on a day trip. She sent me a post card...

"They all go to the toilet in the same place here, men and women!!!!!!!"

And in the ladies loo in a UK airport, hearing a little girl say very proudly, "Mummy, I remembered not to flush the paper but put it in the bin!

And the reply. "Very good darling, but we're back in England now."

(Source Pinterest)

Writing this, I also realised how many languages I know how to ask for the toilet in! Quite a few.

That's a handy phrase to know.

Happy reading,

love Raven xxx

Memories are for...

 Well this week it appears memories are for getting plot ideas. And do I welcome them.

It's been no secret that I've floundered lately with my writing. Everything reads to me as a bit mundane.  Boring even. 

I hate feeling like that. Writing is part of me. I hate not feeling I can or want to write.

The other day, WIP open but ignored, I was looking through some of my 'memory' photos on a certain social network site and some of the memories that popped up gave me ideas.

Not I hasten to add, or write about my life per se, but of using some of the memories I saw and remembered.

And so I made notes. Now, I'm playing with some ideas. Who knows if they will come to anything? I don't but as they have got me writing again, I'm happy.

Hope you all are,

love, Raven xxx

Ps All photos taken by me on my travels.

Should I stay or should I go now?

 I can't help singing those words, although I'm not in a singing mood. more of a hmm, should I stay with this WIP or go now and accept it's never going to get finished?

It's a dilemma. One I hate facing but at the moment I think it's needs must as the saying goes.

It's annoying. I've got the first 35k done. 

I've got the last 5k done.

But it's the bit in the middle that's defeating me and it is incredibly frustrating.

I've been messing with the story for months. It started off well, and I was racing along—well as fast as my three finger typing can let me race. 25k was written in a few weeks. Then life got in the way and I had to keep rereading what I'd written.

But still so far so good. Another 5 or so thousand words came in dribs and drabs.

Then, in a change to the way I usually write I sorted theending out. I knew it, knew what I wanted to say and also knew I needed to get it down so I didn't forget any of it .

Which was all well and good except for one thing. 

The enormous void.

The knot that connects the two threads.

I can't find how to make that knot. 

At the moment I have three options. Or I think I do.

One, accept it's not going to get the ends tied together. Leave it and write something else. (bBut I hate giving up and admitting defeat.)

Two, just keep plodding on and deleting as need be. (But plodding is boring and I don't want that)

Three, shorten it. Do a wee bow not a big knot. (But then I'd feel I was short changing everyone.)

So now I'm adding a fourth option.

Drink coffee, eat chocolate and read a book by someone else. Yes it is procrastinating, and putting off te decision. But as I've been faffing about with the thing for so long, a few days more isn't going to make much difference.

wish me luck.

Happy Reading,

love Raven xxx

(photos etc source Pinterest)

When you think I wish I was like *****

 I've been writing this last week, and as the WIP progresses, I'm discovering things about my heroine I hadn't realised. (Yes, okay because I hadn't delved that far into how I intended to 'shape' her) I also rather like her and her attitude which is a relief because I want her to feisty but nice with it.

To be the sort of person everyone likes and respects.

(Source: Pinterest)

If only we could all be like that.

I know we're all different, with our own individuality, but when I read something, or see something where a person is being at the least unpleasant and at the worst very bad or dangerous it does make me wonder. Why? What's the point?

Of course there must be a point and often it's easy to see it, but equally sometimes you can't fathom out that why.

And sometimes you never ever find out.

I was thinking about that as I reread some of my WIP and realised there was someone in it, who holds the clue to a lot of the things that happen in this book. And that person isn't nice at all.

Now I need to discover why they are as they are.

It's going to be a fun week.

Happy sleuthing,

love Raven xxx

(ps It's raining so I intend to hole myself up in my study, with coffee and write. wish me luck)

Not so much 'gizza job' as 'gizza break'...

 Years ago on British TV, there was a programme called Boys From the Black Stuff, and one of the characters 'phrase' was 'gizza job'.

Give me a job.

Well this week I feel like saying,

'gizza break.'

Just a wee one. Let me catch breath and smell the coffee. And reading something that makes sense would be good,

(Please, not one I'm trying to write. Not this week.)

If that makes me sound pathetic, well I've felt a right whingebag, moaning old sod these last few days. 

Old being the operative word in fact. Now yes, I know in some people's eyes I'm a geriatric. Probably a cantankerous one at that. Well past the 'oohh I'm eligible for a bus pass' age. However I've never really felt it as much as these last few months. I've always been off the refuse to grow old gracefully brigade. Get on with it and enjoy life.

Which generally I do. 

Sometimes though, I think damn and blast (or words to that effect) What the you know what? Wonder if it's moan time. 

Do the why me, snarl and frown. 

(source: pinterest)

Then think oh sod it, a negative attitude is so bloody hard to keep up or enjoy. (If you get my meaning)

However, this week, when the words didn't want to come, and the words that did come weren't the words that worked for where I'd written them, the 'sod it get on with it with a grin' frame of mind wasn't so easy to achieve.

So I decided to ignore the stupid outlook I had, ignore the WIP and do something else.

We went to Durham.

I'd forgotten how hilly it was and just how many cobbles you walked over, but it was so worth it. I forgot about words, except how to say please and thank you. 

Read a book, ate too much chocolate and relaxed.

Had an excellent gluten free meal in Tia's, mooched around the fabulous indoor market, and chuckled at the ducks on the river.

Laughed and explored and came home in a much better frame of mind.

Edited a short story I'd written and got it ready to sub.

Wrote two thousand words that make sense.

And realised that the mini break did me the world of good.

Oh and yes, I know I'm lucky to be able to do that. If we hadn't I'd have put on my wellies and wandered around the village for a while to clear my head.

But I enjoyed my lovely mini break much more. Realised I like the glass half full me much more than the glass half empty one.

Whatever you do, I hope you enjoy it.

Happy reading,

love Raven xxx

ps I've just got a new book out. The Match Up, from totally bound and also on Amazon

It's just a word...

 But a word that gives someone very unpleasant shivers.

What word?

Well that depends on who's talking (or writing)

There are certain words that are a real turn off—teeth gritters—to some people and not to others.

For me it's the word 'gotten'. I hate it with a vengeance and would write twenty words instead of using it. Got? That's fine, but gotten?

(source: pinterest)

No, no and no!

It gives me goosebumps. horrible ones. no reason, it just (another no, no it appears) does.

While we're at it, evidently horrible is another word that some people detest.

I did a straw poll amongst friends, and asked for words that they detest. That might stop them reading something or make them shudder.

It was funny just what repels some people and other's think are fine.

Just as well we're all different or the world would be a very limited and boring place.

So (that was one of the words on the no, no list) in no particular order, here's some people's bugbears.

Starting a sentence or paragraph with, and, so, when, that and why. Oh and just.

Using words that no one understands. I quite like that because then I need to look it up and I discover a new word.

Using words not in general usage like perchance in a Regency story. (Oops, I was guilty of that years ago.)

Myriad, moist, and actually.

Slang that you only understand if you're a certain age...

The list could be endless, but I decided to stop researching. I did wonder if some words could be used in specific circumstances, but generally (another no go to a couple of people) the answer was no. Find an alternative.

Therefore, no moist sponge cakes, or myriad of colours.

Duly noted.

What do you think?

Happy reading (and word avoiding)

love, Raven xxx

To Tea or not to Tea?

 As opposed to coffee, hot chocolate, cocoa or soda.

Not that I honestly know what counts as soda these days. to me (aged) it's soda water. Like fizzy water but more fizzy. 

(source: pinterest)

I know to other people it's cola or stuff like that.

All of which has nothing to do with my did I want a cup of tea question.

And why most people look at it and say hot water, slightly—very slightly—coloured.

It's been like that since I was advised, years ago to try and cut down on my dairy intake, and cutting out milk in tea was the easiest way, for me, to do it. But then I had to cut down on the strength of it as well.

Not that any of this bothers me, unless someone offers to make me a cuppa (or I'm on a plane) and trying to explain that in a mug of tea, a half a tablespoon of unmilked tea from someone else's mugful before its touched, is perfect. And it seems wasteful to use a tea bag for my hot coloured water!

Of course I can (and sometimes do) use loose leaf tea in a pot, but it's really much easier just to siphon off that one half-tablespoonful.

It's funny (or maybe not) just how everyone had their own ideas on how tea should be drunk.

Milk in first or last.

Teabag in mug—or pot.

(source : pinterest. My t-pots are in the dishwasher or the back of the cupboard)

Maybe you think it should be loose leaf only.

Assam, darjeeling, jasmine, Earl Grey? The options are endless.

(Source : Pinterest)

Then of course we have milk, lemon or just hot—or is it boiling—water.

It's a minefield.

But it is fun when I have to offer a character in one of my books a drink and work out what they will choose.

Cheers everyone

Happy drinking,

Love Raven xxx

If I put it in a book, you'd say it was too far fetched.

 What would?

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then I'll begin.

For a couple of weeks or so we were in Gran Canaria, getting some warm ( and hot) and dry weather.

Glorious sunrises 

Fabulous views

Great weather

even some egrets

So all in all lovely.

That bit would be ok in a book I reckon.

Then it was time to come home.

When we come to the Canaries, now we've 'moved south' (from Scotland)  we fly from Leeds Bradford Airport. The highest in the UK at 208 metres above sea level. 

So often the weather can be a bit dodgy, to say the least.

But we flew out on the one non windy day of the week. And landed early.

Perfect.

Anyway we set off home.

Snow, ice wind in UK.

But we notice our plane set off on time. All seems to be well. Flight sets off only ten minutes or so late. Good gluten-free food, smooth(ish) flight.

Then over the intercom...

"This is your pilot speaking. They are clearing the runway. We'll circle."

And the lovely husband and I puzzled as we couldn't feel the plane banking.

Then...

"Sorry we've got to divert to Birmingham. there will be buses to take you to LB. About two and a half hours."

Concerted groans around the plane, but safety first.

I read a book.

We land... get luggage, given snacks and water, get on the bus with wet feet

(It's pouring. Have to walk a few hundred yards to coach. Deep puddles.)

We wait... and wait.

Then set off...turn off motorway...

Into suburbs. Er what?

Coach stops. At a bus stop. Somewhere. Ten minutes later another driver gets on.

We set off.

He'd not been given the key for the loo.

Hmm.

We are told it will be about a three hour journey.

Half hour later...

We stop. No one seems to know why.

A few people get off and on.

Why did we stop?

Someone needed the loo, but the driver didn't bother to let people know anyone could nip to the loo

Cue grumbles.

Hot air... toasty. Someone moans.

Then freezing air. Through the speakers!

Lots of moaning.

We appear to be going the long way round.

Feels like the driver is lost. Round a city ring road the long way. Which is the wrong way!

Is it a wind up? Will someone get on the coach and go 'gotcha'?

We have to cross the pennines. Where it is still snowing...

That three hours is somewhat ambitious.

Flashing lights.

Oh, a rolling road block. No idea how long for.

Then we stop.

On the motorway.

For half an hour. No idea what the reason is.

We set off. 

Why have we gone past the turn off we need?

Yeah, you guess it. Missed the turn.

Driver takes the next one which is a smaller not so snow-ploughed road. We drive through less than salubrious suburbs.

Let's hope we don't get a flat tyre.

Almost five hours after we got on the coach, we get to LB airport.

Luckily the coach to our car park is waiting.

Eight inches of snow on car, but luckily only (hahaha only) raining.

We drive home through lots of deep and big puddles.

Almost seven hours from getting off the plane we get home!

And the irony of it all?

The plane which was due to land fifteen minutes before us at LB, did so. As did the one half an hour after ours.

Sods law eh?

Well as I said if I put all that in a book...

Happy Reading,

love Raven xxx

Where my trumpet is definitely blown

 This blog wasn't going to be about me jumping up and down with glee and having a celebratory glass of fizz.

I've been on holiday and written very little, but oh boy did it make me want to get writing again. The blog was going to revolve around recharging my (or your) batteries.

But then I got news of a book being accepted for publication and realised that I've got another book out on Tuesday 20th, and that's only a couple of weeks away

Which is even more reason to celebrate.

So I decided to say, yee ha look...

Romansa Castle where love is all around—if you dare take a chance on it.

 

When Lois McDonald discovers just what sort of person she has become, it makes her take a long, hard look at herself. She doesn’t like what she discovers and resolves to change. However, it’s not as easy as it sounds.

Now she has to do her best to create a new person and stick to it, even though many people are sceptical and it would be oh-so easy to be snappy and catty.

Zac Moncrieff is one of those people who doubts what he sees and hears. Nevertheless he is intrigued by this new Lois and wants to get to know her better.

They have to decide if it is worth putting aside past differences and seeing if the spark of interest between them will grow stronger. And if so whether they decide to become a couple.

https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-match-up

https://amzn.to/48XSGfF (UK)

https://cutt.ly/dwXWdA9r (.com)

This is the third book in the Happy Ever after at Romansa Castle series and I think it will be the last. so far anyway, I have no more stories in mind that are set there. But you never know.

(The other two are The Fix Up and the Match Up, and all three are available from Totally Bound— https://www.totallybound.com/ and Amazon. And all three are, or will be available in eBook and paperback.)

So that of course is one reason I'm happy. I will of course be even happier if someone preorders it or buys it.

Then I got the great news that an old and long gone out of print book which has been revised and updated has been accepted for publication by a new, and I think one that will be a fabulous publishing company, Bastet's Quill Publishing, 

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61555201065631

I've been lucky enough to work with the publisher before and know that my book will be in good hands. Can't wait to see what we do with it.

And on that note, with recharged batteries and an urge to get this short story I am nearly at the end of finished, tidied up and sent away,

I'll just add,

happy reading, 

love, Raven xxx

The gorgeous time suck of research.

 It was only supposed to be a quick look at a jeweller's catalogue. I needed to check I'd got the right birthstones for the central characters in the story I'm half way through writing.

(source pinterest)

But once I checked those, well then of course I carried on looking. At bracelets and earrings (my personal love). Then I moved on to china and then of course decided I needed to find when a certain manufacturer started, whether it was still in business and where. 

Three hours later I hadn't added a word to my WIP, but I'd drooled over some old Wedgewood, lusted after a Sevres bowl, liked some pretty china mugs and realised that even if I could afford half the things I saw—and I can't—I'd be scared to use then and scared to lose them. I'm better off sticking to good old M & S or in the case of mugs, whatever supermarket has some that catch my eye.

I also realised that although I didn't need most of the information I'd learnt about the things I'd lusted over, I had needed that time just to enjoy the  browsing, as well of finding out information I did need. 

It got me fired up and ready to get stuck into my WIP. As well as giving me the opportunity to get my facts correct.

Sometimes a few stolen hours like that even up not being stolen at all but invaluable. not only for what you may or may not learn, but for recharging.

And now I've recharged, I'm off back to my Feisty heroine who is about ready to spit tacks.

Via the kettle and the cafetière of course. 

(Source:Pinterest)

I let two cups go cold when I was ah researching.

Ate the biscuits though.

And on that note,

happy reading,

love Raven xxx

How I got the muse moving...

 Via an overheard conversation, a motivating telling to, (or should that be telling off) and a cold and glorious sea side walk. It gave me some ideas.

 (photo: Joanne Robinson)

I had no idea what to chat about today, then two good friends both gave me suggestions, which although different, work together.

The first was how I got my mojo back, motivated my muse and got it moving. (Lots of 'M's' there, but it is now my motto! Remember the 'M's'.

The second: how I use the things I have seen on my travels over the years to set the scene. Base towns and villages on places I've visited or lived, get my geography correct, use my personal knowledge to create my story's setting.

                               Scotland                                      

(Hong Kong)

(Devon UK)

(Barbados)

When I thought about it, I realised how one doesn't work without the other. Well, not for me.

What got my muse back and raring to go?

Or should I say who?

It was several things.

The fact a fabulous ex-editor is opening her own publishing house—Bastet's Quill— and I want to write something for her. 

I was (and still am) writing a Regency story about a lady smuggler, set on the Yorkshire coast. I know where the story is going, am half way through and it's like walking through treacle. This is a moment a lot of writers struggle with, and usually I can climb out, go upwards and onwards reasonably easily well after only a few days moaning and groaning)

This time my muse shut up shop and remained stubbornly closed. Went AWOL

I even wrote bits of the story to be slotted in when I got to where they might be needed, but oh could I find the words to get to any of them?

No!

I thought okay then, time to think of something else.

Then, by one of those lovely quirks of fate you sometimes get, I overheard a conversation between an adult and a toddler of about three or four years old. It went something like this... 

Child: "Freya says shut eyes go there."

Adult: "Where?"

Child: "Where want to. Sneazland." 

They moved away and I pondered about that. Dreams? Senses? Connections?

It got my muse thinking.

Sneazland? Hmm.

I found a picture we took a few years ago on a dream holiday in New Zealand. The Wanaka Tree. Not on this one, but  somewhere there's even one with me on the shore line in front of it. 

My muse perked up even more.

I've used the Wanaka Tree elsewhere in a book. could it appear in another one?

Why not? The stories aren't even remotely similar. And let's face it there are lots of stories set in the same place by lots of people.

So I'm writing. And I know the facts will be accurate. Ive been there, seen it, got the photo.

Take Hong Kong... or Barbados, or...well any of the places I've been lucky enough to visit. 

I make notes. Copious notes. Take photos. Lots of photos. I am a great fan of notebooks. I've got a shelf of them. Some used with titles like Shaldon (a village in Devon), Pismo Beach (California), and Great Ocean Road (Australia).

Other's are a bit more cryptic.

Inside I've got info I think might come in handy. As well as a lovely way to remember all the great places I've been fortunate enough to visit.

I'm also a terrible eavesdropper. Some of the things you overhear make your eyes boggle and your jaw drop. But I store them up and hope tht one day they might come in handy.

And they are often a good way to get the muse into gear.

As is asking people to give you say ten words and you write something of 100, or 500 words or whatever with those ten words in it. A mate got  best seller after she asked me to give her 10.

And now, after writing this, my muse is screaming.

She's in Wanaka. What next?

 I better go and find out.

Happy reading,

love Raven xxx

(all pictures, copyright Joanne Robinson or Pinterest)