Friday, 24 October 2014

Urghh. Arthritis.

With still no news on a steady job I have started writing my Fairytale Series. The least I can do in the current situation is put more faith and dedication into my books and hope for the best. I've got a hot water bottle pressed behind me cushioning my aching back where Arthritis is threatening to curl up in the little joints of my spine and stay there. I'm dosed up on tablets trying to bring swelling down and so far the pain relief has not kicked in, so the hot water bottle is at work slowly reducing the pain. if I don't move too much it's not so bad. I can use my fingers to type at least, but if this pain doesn't ease up by tonight my plans to do some painting will be put on hold.

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Raindrops in a Cold Cup of Tea


Raindrops in a cold cup of tea
A few spiteful raindrops slip down
and spit into a cold cup of tea.
The china: thin and pretty
Chinks like a glass slipper on a marble step
Disrupting the week long silence
 
The party is long over.
 
No one’s collected in the plates
The table still laid
Is laden with uneaten cake.
 A snail crawls up a table leg
As if he might see where they’ve gone
And unseen, creeping in, is a setting green mould
About to be washed away by rain
That dribbles into half-drunk cups of tea,
Now gone cold.

Poem about Connie

It's too cold in these four walls to concentrate on my book. It's pissing me off because I have ideas I need to get down but I keep getting distracted by the chill. It's harder to concentrate here anyway, I feel like I'm sat here awkwardly in a room that is frozen in the past while I have moved forwards. The simple truth of the matter is I just don't belong here anymore. I could light candles and cast an attractive illusion of comfort over the place but it will be a lie.

Nights like this I just miss Connie.


Never before has there been such a place
so wonderfully simple
with it's welcome embrace
Four walls unlike those of my cage
it's almost, nearly, sort of Home
With all it's faults and creaking ghost
the closest thing to it that I've ever known
As if some inner heart beats within
and when away, only half of me seems to live
I miss you most on nights like this
because Connie is where my heart is.


Sunday, 19 October 2014

The Mad Hatter

Weekend art work: Came up with my version of the Mad Hatter who will be a character featuring in my new book series, Steampunk Inspired with the freaky goggles and robotic animals including The March Hare. Had some great ideas for the character I'm going to write so I hope everyone likes the illustration of him.

(Pencil)

(In progress)

(Painted)

(Close up of robotic Steampunk inspired animals including The March Hare)

Friday, 17 October 2014

The Christmas Boots

It's happened again, that moment of utter overwhelming brilliance. They're red, and they look like Santa's coat cut and sewn into the most beautiful perfect pair of boots. The elves of the workshop could have made these. They were practically designed for the Spirit of Christmas. Medium height, tight, the lining wrapped in cream fur and the exterior made from suede. They have a heel I could manage, and I can already see them matched against twenty autumn/winter outfits. I'd need a red jumper, and a red coat or a red poncho, and a ribbon, and creamy wooly knits, or snowwhite fleece. I NEED these boots!

Some time later...


I hate my feet. People who are shorter than 5.9 and wish they were tall and talk about it often...I hate you. Ok bit strong, but you cannot find nice shoes in your size, you end up bulldozing innocent people in Primark when new stock arrives because they only ever have 2 pairs of size 8's available EVER! You're always conscious that if you wear heels people think you're abnormal, you hear this phrase often: "Blimey, you're tall ay ya?", men don't find you attractive or they d...o but they say phrases like this "I'd fancy you if you weren't so tall" OR "This girl you're setting me up with...is she errr as tall as you?" (insert awkward face), your feet always look overly big to you no matter what, you buy shoes you don't even like just because "they fit, omg they fit!" AND the beautiful Red Christmas boots that are on special offer that are murder worthy, must have ARE NOT AVAILABLE IN YOUR SIZE! Urghhhh! ...Rant over. I feel slightly less angry, I am going to play my tiny violin now.

 
http://www.dresslily.com/button-and-solid-color-design-short-boots-for-women-product527234.html

Standby


Writing one of my new books and I'm bored of it already. I told myself I'd only do ONE chick lit because I had that idea in my head but now I've started another because 1.) It appeals to a certain audience that I can reach, and 2.) I have developed a few new ideas. But I just don't find this sort of thing that interesting myself. I have another idea for a series that I'm really excited about, it will take longer to write and I want it illustrated and perfect, it's right up my street and I think until I have it out of my system I won't be able to focus on these other stories.

I'm going to postpone these chick lit's I've started and make a solid attempt at getting my teeth into the Fantasy genre. That's where my own interest and passion lies. Yes I've decided. I'm going to take myself down this route. For now everything else is on standby.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Arthritis hurting.


It's bloody freezing in here. Not so cold yet as to see my breath crystallising in front of my lips (which I assure you this room has been in the past) but freezing none the less. Freezing so I am hunched over my hot water bottle wrapped in a thick jumper and jeans. I got drenched in the rain the last few days and now I'm paying the price for the wretched weather. My arthritis hasn't just creaked it's full on crunched and cramped itself into a ball of pain. My toes, knees, shoulders, ankles my wrists and my fingers. It's the fingers that bothers me the most. I'm used to everything else.

My knees were the first thing to give way when I was little, my shoulders were much later when I was in high school, but my hands have only been for the last few years. The first time I cried, clasping one crunched up hand in the other unable to deal with the sudden pain and afterwards the insistent ache. I remember the first time my hands curled up into a frozen state of agony as if it happened just minutes ago, I'm still not used to it. They're not screaming now, just aching, I can still type. Not so much for holding a pen or pencil for very long but I can type.

I suppose I ought to start a course of tablets tomorrow. Take a couple of weeks before they work their way into my system and take the swelling and pain down anyway. Winter's not even started. This is lousy. All I want to do is curl up in the warm and eat.