Two great things this week!

** PLEASE NOTE:
BOOK COVER REMOVED FROM THIS POST AS I HAVE PARTED COMPANY WITH MY PUBLISHER!

Whoo hoo! I have my cover sorted for my follow up book to IT HAPPENED ONE SUMMER. See left.

Blurb

“When Stephanie Baynham comes home to Wales, the lover she ran out on nine months ago, Dylan Pryce-Jones, is waiting at the airport for her. Will he understand why she left him without warning, during the afternoon of Matt and Sandy's wedding celebration? Later, she returns to her apartment and finds the threatening message scrawled on her mirror: "You're Dead!" Could her life really be in danger?”

The other good bit of news is that I have had my romantic comedy, TAKING THE BAIT, accepted for publication at Samhain Publishing! So I'm doing the happy dance!!!

Picture Board

Heroine: Angeline Hamilton

Hero: Sebastian Tremaine

Sebastian's sister: Marsha

Angeline's cousin: William

Housekeeper: Daisy White

Tarrington Manor House

These are the characters from my latest work in progress, working title: Almost A Stranger. Sometimes it helps to put a 'picture board' of characters and settings together!

Blurb:

Angeline Hamilton is devastated to discover upon the reading of her father's will that not only has she lost her inheritance, but she has lost her family home too -- Tarrington Manor. She approaches the new owner, Sebastian Tremaine, under the pretence that she has applied for a job at the house. What transpires is a tale of secrets, seduction and a simmering love affair that is further complicated by the losses in the lives of both lovers.

Setting as Character

Have you ever considered that the setting you choose for your novel or short story becomes one of its characters?

Think of the home where the character, Norman Bates lives, in the 1960 film, Psycho. The dark, brooding house very soon takes on a life of its own with its creaking doors and dark passage ways.

Or how the setting for the 1945 film, Brief Encounter, filmed in a real railway station during the days of the steam train, transmits a certain something, that was evocative of that era in both tone and ambiance.

In the case of the first film, who could forget that infamous shower scene?

Or how in Brief Encounter, the couple who are having an affair, rush breathlessly for their prospective trains, whilst their shadows are reflected on the walls behind them showing their embrace?

Taking my own books as examples, in IT HAPPENED ONE SUMMER, the castle where Matt and Sandy spend the night, Castell Mynydd, reflects a romantic tone, which falls into line with how both feel about one another.

In the follow up book, RETURN TO WINTER, the wine cellar at the same castle takes on an eerie, sinister feel as Stephanie is trapped down there in the dark. Even the odd cobweb frightens her to death during her temporary blindness!

Allow the setting you use to reflect the tone and mood of the situation. For example, in the case of a horror story, you are not going to want to show the forest as a beautiful, serene place, rather as somewhere sinister where anything might happen. This will be reflected in the shadow, the sounds e.g. the sound of an owl hooting, a twig breaking, the moon shining through the rustling leaves of the trees. The same forest might appear innocuous in daylight and may provide the backdrop for a romantic walk in summer.

Next time you write a story, think how the setting can reflect the tone and mood. If it’s a romance, what smells can you induce, for example, or how can you best describe your setting in the way a lover might do? If it’s a horror story, what could you use to take on a life of its own? A house? A mountain? The river?

If you have difficulty imagining how you can do this, watch a few films in your chosen genre. How has the writer/director chosen to film the shots? What tools has he or she chosen? Did they use the weather in some way to predict the mood of the characters? [Prophetic fallacy.]

You are the writer, director and producer of your own stories. Think like a collective production team and use your chosen setting as one of your characters. I promise, it works.

Great review for It Happened One Summer

I had a great review for It Happened One Summer yesterday from The Romance Studio. Here's what the reviewer said [it made my day!]:


It Happened One Summer
Lynette Rees
Romantic suspense
Available from Wings ePress
ISBN: 1-59088-521-X
May 2006

Sandy Perkins is manageress with a local charity shop where all the proceeds go to the Cancer Concern, a local charity. When Matt enters the store, her life changes considerably.

Matthew Walker is the new area manager of the charity shop and has been sent to check out the business but finds Sandy sitting down on the job. This does not sit too well with Matt as he quickly informs.

Sandy isn’t pleased when a customer enters the store giving it the once over. When he announces he is her new boss, Sandy could scream. Things certainly didn’t get off on the right footing. He knows nothing about her and shouldn’t be quickly judging. When Matt hears the reason for Sandy’s break, he is apologetic and sends her flowers. To help raise more money for the charity, Sandy decides to have a fashion show. But in the midst of everything, someone is trying to sabotage her work and it is up to Matt to help find the culprit. They have a difficult past that bothers them and are trying to understand the situation while reaching out to the other. Now they must find out who wants to hurt Sandy while trying to heal the hurt in their hearts.

It Happened One Summer is a fascinating read that immediately draws in the reader. The characters of Matt and Sandy are really genuine in all their emotions. This reader could practically feel all the feelings that were vibrant in the pages. With some touches of envy, hatred, and disloyalty this gripping story blends great creativity. Ms. Rees instills characters that leave a lasting impression with wonderful dialogue that enhances the story. The secondary characters are a welcome addition to the storyline. Ms. Rees knows how to hook the reader and fascinate in this compelling page-turner. It Happened One Summer is a phenomenal read that should not be missed.

Overall rating: [5 Hearts]
Sensuality rating: Mildly sensual

Reviewer: Linda L.
June 16, 2006

Hidden Away in Writing Never-Never Land

Do you know I feel sorry for all those fearful writers out there, the ones who are perfectly good writers, but who are afraid to let others read their work, in case they pass judgement on it.

What would happen then?

They would possibly have their beautiful creations torn to pieces perhaps? Or some well meaning person might tell them that they just don't have what it takes to become a writer.

Fiddlesticks!

To be a writer you have to get over the fear, and believe me there are many fears for you to overcome:

* Fear of rejection

* Fear of failure

* Fear of success

* Fear of critiques

* Fear of harsh words

* Fear of never getting published

* Fear of not completing your work

Plus much, much, more!

Rarely, have I come across a craft or occupation where there are so many fears. And rarely have I come across one where people experience so much self-doubt and self-conciousness that they often give up at the first hurdle and shove their manuscript away in the back of the drawer, never to see the light of day again!

What an absolute waste of writing time and talent!

I have learned so much by facing up to my own writing fears. Every rejection has taught me something new. Every success has made me realize that I am learning my craft as a writer. And every critique has made me face up to my writing blind spots.

There is rarely a successful author in the world who has not had his or her fair share of rejection and critical scorn thrown upon their work. What would have happened if Stephen King or J.K. Rowling had just thrown all their work into the back of the drawer? We'd never have seen any of their books published or films watched and enjoyed by so many people, that's what.

I say if you are one of those writers who fears just about everything -- then get over it! All writers have fears, even the top names in the business. The key is to face those fears and realize that success is built on the foundations of failure. Every writing failure you endure is a building block for writing success!

How to Make Your Characters Leap Off the Page!

Have you ever read a book where the characters seem so real that it's almost as if they are in the room with you?

Hopefully, you have. That's the sign of a writer who can create well rounded 3-dimensional characters.

So how do you bring your characters to life?

Well, I usually find out as much about them that I can beforehand and a little more along the way as my stories and novels are very character orientated, in so much, as they dictate the plot.
For example, in one of my books, I was determined that the characters would not go to bed with one another, but they had other ideas! So, I stopped fighting it and let them get on with it!

My reluctance in letting them do what they wanted to do was more to do with my own standards and morals and not theirs. We are not our characters, so we can let them do whatever they want to do. That can include using bad language, if it's right for that character, murder, or anything else for that matter.

Although, we are not our characters, you will find as a writer, that quite often our subconscious will come through in our work and you will find elements of yourself in every story you create.

Try interviewing your characters beforehand, and/or fill in a character profile chart for each one:


1. What’s your name?



2. Where do you live?



3. How old are you?



4. What’s the biggest problem you have in your life right now?



5. Who are the most important people in your life?



6. What are your aims and ambitions?



7. Where do you work?



8. Do you enjoy your job?



9. Where do you spend your social time?



10. Who with?



11. What food do you like?



12. What is your favorite song?



13. What is your favorite film?



14. Where do you go on holiday/vacation?



15. How much money do you have in the bank right now?


16. What are your hobbies and interests?



17. What sort of a car do you drive?



18. Who or what do you hate most?



19. Who or what do you like most?



20. What is your favorite saying/quotation?



21. What do you regret not doing?



22. What would it say on your headstone?



These are just some ideas for you to try; you can probably come up with many more.

Don't forget to show your characters as living, breathing beings by making use of all five senses and demonstrating their little quirks and habits.

Good characterization is vital in a short story or novel as character drives plot.

Writing Voice

What is writing voice?

It's the voice you use as a writer that determines the tone of an article, story, or poem, etc.

For example, a few years ago when I attended a local writer's group, I was in awe of one elderly lady who used to be a headmistress. She has such a refined voice and had won several writing competitions. I really admired her work.

One week, when I read out my story to the class, the tutor stopped me and asked me why I had written my story in that way. It did not sound like me at all. Of course, she was perfectly correct, I had tried to sound like the elderly lady.

My tutor said: "Lynette, you have such a natural sounding voice, stick to it!"

She was right and I never tried to mimic another author's voice since. That's not say that over the years I haven't been influenced by other writers. The authors I have been most influenced by have been people like: Jackie Collins, Virginia Andrews and Edna O'Brien.

Whilst I have not made any effort to copy them, I have learned a lot about pacing, characterisation and writing in first person/third person, etc.

In WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL, Donald Maass says about voice:

"You can facilitate voice by giving yourself the freedom to say things in your own unique way. You do not talk exactly like anyone else, right? Why should you write like everyone else?"

Maass is spot on there.

We are all influenced to some degree by our backgrounds: cultural differences, schooling, socially, etc. So someone born to the royal family is not going to sound like someone say from the East end of London, even though they are not a million miles away in distance, they are a world away in culture.

Be true to your own author's voice, write how you think and don't force your voice to sound like anyone else's.

You are a unique writer with a unique voice!

Seize the day...

This year, for the first time, I'm starting to see the sense of living in the present moment. It follows on from the death of an old friend at Christmas. I attended her funeral on my birthday 22nd of December.

Trish was diagnosed with cancer around 10 years ago, but had appeared to be over it and was one of those people I often thought about as 'conquering the disease'.

Around April of last year, I bumped into her in the supermarket. She looked fantastic, though uncharacteristically for her, her normal sleek dark-haired bob, was now curly. Her hair looked nice, so I commented on it.

"I haven't had my hair done," she replied, "it's the chemo. The cancer has come back."

By the end of the year she was dead at just forty two years old.

I'll never be able to hear the songs: "Time to Say Goodbye" or "Silent Night" again without thinking of her funeral.

And then, a couple of weeks later, I happened to ask Sian, someone I worked with as a nurse more than twenty years ago, how Huw, a male nurse was getting on. "Didn't you know? He died a couple of years ago," she said.

I didn't even know. He was only about forty years of age.

The coincidental thing about this is the last time I spoke to him was when I was out at a local nightclub for Trish's hen night about 20 years ago. He happened to be out with his friends that night.

Trish and Huw were two people who I felt a bond with many years ago.

It's made me realise that I need to seize the day. Putting things off is no good. I need to do what I want right now, reaching for the stars and grabbing hold of them. Tomorrow might not come. All I have is the here and now.

Ooops I did it again...

Each and every time I start a blog or a diary, I end up leaving it for months and finally giving up. So this time I am going to buck the trend and carry on writing in this one to break the habit.

I've been having some trouble getting back into writing this past few months, but hopefully, if I start another blog year, it will keep the ideas coming and my focus fresh.

Happy New year 2006!

London this week

Was it only the day before yesterday that the people of London and the rest of the U.K. were celebrating at winning the bid to host the Olympics in 2012? Who could have believed that within 24 hours of that announcement we would be hearing another, that the city of London had been brought to its knees by bombings on the underground and on a double decker bus.

As I write this, there has been no official claimant to this devastation, although Al-Qaeda are strongly suspected. This morning, there is talk of it being down to a small cell of young men in their twenties who went missing from The Midlands yesterday.

Of course London has had its fair share of bombings in the past from The Blitz to the IRA. The British are a resilient lot employing 'the bulldog spirit' when necessary.

London is a great city, I love it, from my very first visit there as a child aged 11 to a still awestruck 40 something of today. I just hope that when I visit again it won't put me off taking the tube or hopping on a red double decker bus. I doubt it will. As one commuter put it on TV this morning when asked how he felt about travelling in London today, "Surely, this is the safest day of all to travel across the city!" He's probably right.

Crazy Times!

On Saturday, I viewed what I think will go down as being the largest pop concert in the world, Live8, the brainchild of Sir Bob Geldof. Anyhow, it was fantastic to watch on the tele. From 1:00 pm I watched it practically all the way through until 12:00 midnight. The concert opened with Sir Paul McCartney and U2 singing 'Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club'. Other terrific acts were: The Scissor Sisters, Coldplay, The Stereophonics, Pink Floyd, etc. So how come an event like that that aims to do so much good is overshadowed by the events at Edinburgh over the past couple of days?

See here:

http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/news/articles/PA_NEWA11763011120496162A000?source=PA%20Feed

Admittedly, there will be some protesters who want to do that, just protest and in a peaceful manner too. So who are these other louts and where have they come from? They seem to be the same sort of people who turn up at almost every large protest in the country, unwashed, with multiple piercings [not that there's anything wrong with piercings!], bedraggled hair and ready to cause as much mayhem as possible. Their violent behaviour seems to be targeted more against the police than anyone else.Could it be that there is a secret website somewhere:
http://www.rentamob.co.uk and these people are transported in lorry loads around the country to whichever protest they are required at?Let's hope that something can be done to help Africa, but somehow, I don't think it's going to be quite that simple.

Why do things always have to be so difficult?

I go out with my daughter,Leyna, this morning to help her sort things out ready for her well deserved holiday with friends to Spain on the weekend. She wants to withdraw £650.00 from her building society account. She hardly ever uses this account, so we are surprised when the clerk tells her she can only take out £100.00 today.

Leyna says, "Well how come I was allowed to take out £500.00 a couple of years ago?"

To which the lady replies, "We've changed our policy since then."

I say, "But she needs the money today to get it converted into Spanish currency for her holiday."

The clerk says the best she can come up with is to pay Leyna a cheque for the full amount and then I will have to pay this into my bank account and give her the money myself.

Leyna says, "But I'm eighteen why can't I have the money?"

To which the clerk replies, "Because this is classed a child's account, you will have to change it."

How frustrating. So we accept the cheque and trot off to the bank. I write a paying in slip for the cheque and hand it to the teller. I say, "I'd like to pay in this cheque for £650.00. I have enough money in the account to cover it.

"To which the teller replies, "Do you have any identification on you as I don't know you?"

I reply, "Yes, all my bank cards.""No good."Double frustration.

She carries on, "Would anyone else in here know you?"

As luck would have it, I recognise a teller from the foreign desk who has cashed American cheques for me in the past, although it was a long time ago I remember a conversation we had about writing. She had seemed impressed that I was earning money for it.

"Do you recognise me?" I ask in frustration. "I'm the writer who used to pay cheques into you."

She screws up her eyes and I almost scream at the thought of getting no where. But wait a minute, there is a flicker of recognition.

"Yes, I do recognise you," she smiles. "I remember you told me about that website for my writer friend. She writes short stories." Then she launches into my favourite subject whilst the teller who was serving me doles outs 650 big ones. Success at last. We take the money to the travel agency and convert it into euros and travellers cheques. Leyna and I are happy.

* * *

This afternoon, I notice Milly the sheepdog has gone missing. Nathan has left the front door open. I can see her across the road, but she doesn't respond to my calls. When she finally returns she is covered in cow dung. Why do dogs always roll in that stuff?Now I have to wash her with the hosepipe and shampoo, something she hates.

She gets her own back though, by shaking herself all over me. Then, when I remove her collar [she has been tethered to the tap by her lead and collar] as I need to clean it, she makes a run for it again. I worry that maybe she has gone to rub in the yucky stuff again, but luckily she turns up later still clean. I on the other hand, have had to wash myself down and change my clothing!

It's one of those days!

Why does this always happen?

I've been waking up early most mornings of late, around 5:00 am ish and sometimes have difficulty getting back to sleep. Anyhow, that happened this morning [I think it may be due to the strong sunshine we have been getting here lately as well as my circadian rhythm]It took me ages to get back to sleep, well over an hour later and I knew I had to get up to see the kids off to school at 7:00!

Anyhow, during the short amount of time that I fell back to sleep my dream was very vivid. I was up in Pant near to wear I work and about to share a meal with one of my colleagues and her husband. We had already eaten the main course and now it was time for dessert. Someone handed me a half carton of some gorgeous ice cream rather like the one we had for dessert yesterday following our Sunday lunch. In the dream I could really taste the ice cream, I was really experiencing the moment. Then, it dawned on me that maybe not every at the dinner party had had their share of the ice cream. I felt like a glutton. At that moment I woke up it was around 6:50 -- so almost time to get up.

Have you ever had a dream where you were enjoying the experience so much that you didn't want it to stop? That has happened to me several times particularly when I am in that sort of state, i.e. overly tired. One of my first thoughts is, 'Never mind I can go to bed later when I come home from work/shopping/etc', only I never do. The moment has gone for good.

All I can think that makes any sense at all to me is that perhaps it is a different quality of sleep I experience when I first fall asleep, particularly when it is for a short space of time. It is said that we dream several times a night rather as if we are watching a few short movies [like at the old ABC Minors!] So no wonder I needed that ice cream, maybe next time there'll be popcorn too!

A great day to be alive!

I have to admit that the weather has been so lovely over here for the past few days that it makes me glad to be alive. Not that every day isn't valuble mind you, but when the weather is warm and summer is in full bloom it gives me a different perspective on life. I have heard that the weather will change again soon, so no doubt when the Glastonbury Festival starts tomorrow, it will be rainy as usual. I hope not though. We are used to seeing revellers up to their knees in mud so it would be nice if for the very last festival the crowd and performers had good weather. Apparently, the man who has been organising it since he bought the land in 1970 says it's time to give the neigbours some peace. I'm looking forward to seeing television coverage of the event over the weekend and will particularly be on the look out for the group, Alabama 3, who composed and sang the theme tune to the Sopranos.

Wishful Writers

If I had a pound coin for everyone who ever said to me, "I've always wanted to write a book..." I'd be a rich woman. Why is it the world and his wife think they can write? Not just write, but craft a novel before they have even written anything at all, they've not even kept a journal or attempted a short story. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not a snob. I'm not one of those people who thinks that writers have to use flowerly terms and unusual words that others don't understand. Au contraire, that means on the contrary :) It's just that writing often isn't taken seriously by non writers. They just don't get it. I mean if they met a doctor they would hardly say to him: "I've always fancied being a doctor and would love to be able to perform major surgery!" because that person knows that unless they undertake X number of years training, they will not have the skills required.

I don't mind helping new writers but once in a while someone will contact me claiming they want to be a writer and then will try to pick the hell out of my brains. I will answer their questions to the best of my ability but when they bombard me with questions I start to think, "Why don't you take a writing course if you don't understand anything at all about writing?" I have suggested this and gone out of my way to provide links to help them. I wasn't born with a pen in my hand, if I had been my mother wouldn't have been very pleased! Okay, I had a flair for writing, my stories were often read out by the teacher, but I thought nothing of it at the time. It wasn't until a few years back that I started to take my writing seriously by joining a local writing group and online ones too, read books about the craft of writing, crafting my first proper short story and article and most importantly of all, getting it out there into the big, bad world. I've had some success, I've also had my fair share of failure, but I never thought I had to get someone to do my thinking or my writing for me, like some writers do.

Yet, these self same writers who claim they badly want to write, never even get started. I had one online friend who told me she wanted to write children's books as that was her dream. I asked her if she had ever written anything. "No," she replied, "I don't know how to go about it." I managed to get her enrolled on an online writing course I was taking, which cost her nothing. A couple of weeks later I asked her how she was getting on with her assignments [these were only small writing exercises]. Oh, I haven't been able to do them as I just don't have the time!" she replied. Now this same woman spent hours upon hours chatting on MSN Messenger. Did she really want to be a writer of children's books? I don't think so. I would pigeon-hole her in the category of, 'I've always wanted to write a book..."

Next time someone tells me that I'm going to say, 'What's stopping you then?" Chances are they will never even get started.

A chilled-out evening

I had a lovely afternoon/evening yesterday. It was a beautiful summer's day here in Wales, apparently hotter than in Miami! The cancer charity I work for ran a trip to see Miss Saigon at the new Millennium Centre in Cardiff.

Down at Cardiff Bay it was truly like walking around the Med, so chilled out with people of all ethnic minorities chatting outside cafes, yachts bobbing about on the water and just a good feeling all around. My boss, Tracey, said jokingly it would be lovely to move our office to the Bay because of the scenery and ambiance of the place, but I know that we appreciate it more because it's not something we see and do every day.

Karen, Tracey, Sharon and myself found a restaurant overlooking the Bay for a meal. We ordered the chicken in red wine with mashed potatoes and 'a selection of vegetables'. We all sat mouths wide open when the waitress brought our order. The chicken breast was plonked on top of the mash potato, swimming in red wine with sliced courgettes placed preciously like the numerals of a clock all the way around the plate. Call me old fashioned, okay, I'm old fashioned, but I prefer my food served up in little separate piles unless it's supposed to be mixed, like good old spag bol! I think some of these chefs are taking nouvelle cuisine too far, don't you.
The food was edible, but not wonderful and I think I could have easily made it myself if I had whipped up some instant Cadbury's Smash, shoved a piece of chicken on top and sloshed a bottle of red wine all over.

We ordered coffees afterwards which never arrived, so we cancelled them and didn't give a tip, to which the waitress asked politely, "Was everything all right?" "No," replied my manager, "the food wasn't what we expected and the coffees never showed up, we didn't think too much about the service either!"

Afterwards we went into a bar where we chatted to some men from Jamaica. They were colourful characters who teased the life out of us. Karen was convinced that they were in this country playing some sort of sport like basketball, in other words representing their country, until I told her that one of them had been living in Cardiff for the past 15 years.

I was very impressed with The Millennium Centre, it was a huge, classy sort of building. I was relieved at half time of Miss Saigon, that the others expressed what they had been thinking, they just didn't get it, didn't understand the plot. I told them it definitely wasn't my bag either. Someone explained the plot to us while we were drinking our wine during the interval, that made a lot of difference as I found the second half much better. I wouldn't go to see it again. I didn't understand why people were crying either, it just didn't move me at all. Now if they had put The Sopranos on stage I would have been in my element...

Death seems to make us re-evaluate our lives

Death seems to make us re-evaluate our lives. Since my daughter's friend, Carly, died so tragically, in a car crash just over a week ago, I think it's got some of us thinking more and more about how fragile life really is and how we sweat the small stuff too much.

For instance, Leyna, asked me to pick up some odds and ends for her holiday in July to Magaluf, she didn't have the heart to go herself as she is still in the middle of her studies for her A Levels and in the aftermath of the sad news as she was so close to Carly.

Carly was due to go on this holiday with Leyna and a few other girls who would have been celebrating the fact their exams were over. She had a bright future and would have gone to Bristol University in October. She wanted to be an accountant.

Carly, like a lot of the other girls had taken a part-time job to save money for this holiday. She hadn't spent any of it, just wanted to save so she could have a great time on holiday. Now that isn't going to happen. So when I came home from shopping and gave Leyna some of the items I had bought for her, she tried the clothes on: shorts, t-shirts, etc. "I'm going to wear this right now", she said to me, sporting a turquoise t-shirt that I could well imagine will be one of her favourites on holiday, worn with a golden tan. "Why don't you keep it for the holiday?" I suggested. This is what I am prone to do myself with new clothes, keeping them for best. "No, after what happened to Carly, I'm wearing this now when I go out," she firmly replied.

Was her attitude right? I think it was. My own grandmother kept so many things for best. She came from that generation who saved up for a rainy day. She lived through the war years after all. But it was sad that when she died she had left behind so many things that were never used, still in packaging. Scent that would definitely have gone off with age, for instance. To me, that is an even bigger waste.

We need to make the most of what we have right now not wait for sometime in the future for things to happen to us, chances are they won't. My grandmother never had that bungalow by the sea she always dreamed of. It wasn't that she didn't have the money to buy it either. I believe we shouldn't wait for things to fall into our laps, or wait until the time is right, the time may never be right. We may not have the time if our lives are cruelly taken away from us like Carly's was.If you are putting off something, ask yourself why and what would happen if somehow you knew you only had a year left to live? Would you do it? Would you do it right now?

A Sad Weekend

On Friday I attended a Grief and Loss course at Alt -Yr-Yn College, Newport with my manager from work, Tracey. We had a pretty good day even though it's a heavy topic. Unfortunately, I found out on Saturday morning that one of Leyna's best friends was killed in a car accident, near the Storey Arms, Brecon.

The other four teenagers in the car survived and we don't really know as yet why Carly died. The only thing that might make any kind of sense we think is that she was at the back of the car, in the middle wearing the lap seat belt.

I feel so sad for her parents and younger brother and for all her friends and other family members. Leyna was devasted. She was in a state of shock and so was Scott, Leyna's boyfriend. Leyna was due to go into her Saturday job, but I phoned the store to explain why she couldn't come in. Scott came out of his Saturday job to be with her most of the day. She drank lots of tea, but it was about 5:30 before she even attempted to eat anything at all.

She didn't get to sleep until about 2:30. She brought her quilt downstairs and I stayed with her and woke her a bit later for her to go to bed.

I don't know what sort of affect it will have on all Carly's school colleagues as they are currently in the middle of their A Level Exams. I hope the examining board and the school will make allowances for this.

Carly's death has reminded me of the fragility of life. The last time I felt like this was September the 11th, 2001.

Family Reunion

Today I went out for a meal with my mother, father and brother Alvin for Alvin's 43rd birthday. I haven't seen my father to talk to properly for a couple of years. The meal was my idea and even my idea to invite my father. It went very well. My mother and I bought Alvin a joint present of a DVD player and a couple of DVD's: The Battle of Britain, Airplane and one other I can't recall now as we looked at so many.

It was strange that although I thought things might have been strained between me and my father they weren't. He had upset me about 4 years back, so I hadn't gone out of my way to maintain contact with him. One of the things I was upset about was because he told me he had stopped mail getting through to me from a boy I met on holiday when I was almost 19. I couldn't believe he had done that. It made me wonder how things might have turned out if I had got those letters. Funnily enough, a year or so before his admission I had written a short story on a similar topic.

My parents haven't really bothered with one another for years since their divorce, so Alvin is the common denominator in all of this. We usually hear news about my father via him and vice versa.

Today was nice. I wanted it to be that way for Alvin's sake. The last time the four of us sat around a table like that was probably 10 years ago.

Life's too short.

Don't get me wrong, I can never see me and my father being close as a lot of it is in his hands, it takes two to make a relationship, but at least things can be amicable now when I see him again.

This time of the year

This time of the year, I feel tired, yet I accomplish more, it that makes sense? The days are longer and the shorter days seem a long way off. You see, I am one of those people who suffers with SAD -- Seasonal Affective Disorder. As September draws near I have to take some action, last year I tried a light box for the first time, which worked quite well. Before that I had used St. John's Wort quite effectively, but had been put off by the scare stories surrounding the natural herbal tablet. When the sun is shining like it has been today, I feel much happier in myself, although I can still be prone to the odd mood swing.

This time of the year, I see my neighbours to talk to much more often. Where does everyone go to winter? Do we all hibernate? That time of the year you can go ages without seeing people to talk to in the street. I'm not saying I never see them, I see them going out and coming in, but not standing around to talk like they do in the summer.

January 2005, seems a long time ago now.

I started off the year by setting some goals for myself which I have achieved, so now I need to set some more as we are half way through the year.

1. Finish writing my novel, THE HONEYTRAP MISTRESS

2. Submit short story to Woman's Weekly magazine

3. Revise and edit novella and submit to Kensington Brava

4. Get more sleep

5. Lost some weight