Helen Glynn Jones

A Productive Day

Yesterday was a fairly productive day, as these things go.

I had an appointment in a nearby village and afterwards the woods seemed to be calling me. The sun was shining and it was one of those cold clear days, so I followed the call through bare trees and evergreens, photographing velvety moss clothing trees in winter splendour, sun shining pale gold above.

Refreshed, I went home and managed to finish A Thousand Rooms, the book I posted about on Monday. I ended up having to add about four thousand words to complete it, the final scenes already mapped out and expanding onto the page. And when it was done I had that feeling again, the one you get when the story is finished, the tale told. Your comments and feedback really helped as well, giving me the impetus I needed to get things done, so thank you 🙂 The next step is sending it out to beta readers.

And, to end my productive day, I received a call from a contact. I’d done some speculative work for him last year, for a project he was trying to get backing for. The character is unlike anyone else I’ve ever written, yet she came to me quite clear not long after our first meeting, waking me with a head full of words that I had to write down. So the phone call was to tell me that things were moving along, and ended with us arranging to meet and discuss the next stages. If it takes off, it will be quite exciting. But that’s all I can say about it for now.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend xx

Thursday Doors – Notre Dame, Paris

This is the Portal of the Last Judgement at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. Probably one of the most famous cathedrals in the world, construction was started in 1163 and it opened to the public in 1345. Notre Dame is a marvel of gothic architecture, filled with detail inside and out – these doors are just one example. I particularly love the curling hinges and the way they are almost like lace set against the wood.

There are actually three sets of doors on the front of the building – the Portal of the Virgin, the Portal of the Last Judgement and the Portal of St Anne. When you visit, they bring you in through the left hand set (the Virgin) and you exit through the right hand side (St Anne), having completed a circuit of the cathedral. We visited on a bitterly cold day, just after New Year, yet the cathedral was still full of visitors, the Nativity a gleaming frosty display, candles lighting up chapel ceilings painted with stars.

I took this quick photo looking down the central nave- it is a bit blurry, as I’m not sure I was supposed to be taking photos inside. However, you can see the rose window and get a sense of the columns and grandeur. You’ll also notice a whole lot of orbs floating around. My daughter took another photo from lower down (she was four at the time) and there are no orbs in hers – however, they seem to be having a party in mine. Of course Notre Dame is an ancient building and there were lots of people there that day, stirring up dust. Still, I wonder. I’ve written a couple of other posts about orbs – interesting how they show up in some photos and not others.

As usual, my Thursday door is part of Norm 2.0’s Thursday Doors Challenge. So pop on over and check out the other doors from around the world, or add one of your own.

Wednesday Wander – Watery Ways

This week’s Wednesday Wander was inspired by an image I used in Monday’s post, of the Sydney ferries at Circular Quay. I lived in Sydney for a couple of years and would often take the commuter ferries across the Harbour, paying a few dollars to bob past some of the most famous landmarks in the world. There are several other ferries which venture further, such as the Manly one which goes out through the Heads. It can be quite an adventure on a rough day, when the calmer waters of the harbour meet the open ocean, the boat rocking as it turns to such a degree the sliding doors flick back and forth and you feel the need to brace yourself.

I’ve visited and lived in other waterside cities as well, where public transport is anything but everyday.

View of the West End looking back from the Seabus.

When I lived in Vancouver my home was in the West End but I worked on the North Shore, so I would take the Seabus every day from Lonsdale Quay, then walk the rest of the way home. When we went back to visit last year we took it again – making the short trip across the water surrounded by mountains, Stanley Park, the Lions Gate Bridge and the Vancouver skyline. It still only costs a few dollars, and is a beautiful way to see the city.

Coming up to St Mark's Square and the Doge's Palace — Coming up to St Mark’s Square and the Doge’s Palace

I visited Venice for only a few days many years ago, yet still remember the colours and light, the way the city felt frozen in time, almost like a film set. I loved that you could spend a few lire (at the time) to catch a water taxi and be ferried around the city past so much beauty and history, and that people got to do so every day as part of their work commute.

Now I live near London, and have taken the riverboats several times, including one memorable occasion where we were on a school trip and supposed to alight at a certain dock, but the boat only stopped for about five seconds, pulling away again as we tried to get thirty Year Two children out of their seats and lined up. A stern word with the operators ensured we had enough time to disembark at the next stop, though it meant a longer walk through the city than we had planned. Still, it’s a wonderful and very affordable way to travel the ancient waterway, past palaces and fortresses and famous bridges.

I’m sure there are many other cities where everyday public transport is a trip – let me know some of your favourites. Thanks for coming on a watery Wednesday Wander with me…

Galloping Words

Remember last week, when I wrote about how my cup of words was (temporarily) empty? I could feel more words coming, galloping towards me, and so I sat back to enjoy a few moments of freedom before they arrived.

Interestingly, they seem to have led me back to a story I wrote over a year ago, as part of the first (and only) NaNoWriMo I’ve ever done. I did my 50,000 with days to spare, the idea flowing fast from my fingers. Since then I’ve added another 20,000 words, and there’s probably another 5,000 or so before it’s finished. I’ve done a rough edit as well, but that’s about all.

When I read through the story the other day, I could see that it was almost complete. But also, interestingly, that it was starting to move away from me. So, with that in mind, I’m aiming to finish it over the next week or so – I can see the scenes that need to be written, and the muse is telling me I need to do it now or it might slip away for good.

I thought maybe it might be fun to share an excerpt, not something I usually do. So, here goes:

You don’t wake up expecting to die.

I didn’t, anyway.

But now here I stand, looking down at what used to be me lying on the pavement covered with a white cotton blanket, a small blot of blood staining the indent where my nose is. My new red shoes sit next to my head, neatly placed in a pair as though waiting for me to sit up and put them back on. Guess the impact must have knocked them off. I can see the car a little way further up the street, the distraught driver sitting on the curb, head in hands, being comforted by a police officer crouched next to him, hand on his back. It was my fault, really. I move closer to them, seeing the pattern on the windscreen radiating out from the point of impact, my final moment preserved in sparkling crackles of glass, bright in the Sydney sunshine.

I drift (yeah, all right, that’s what I’m doing now. It’s easier than walking, anyway) back over to my body and notice that the strap has broken on one of my shoes. My new shoes. Honestly. I’ve only had them a couple of weeks, only worn them a handful of times. They were so whimsical, so bright and shiny as they sat on their little stand in the shop I couldn’t resist.

I’ve a good mind to take them back.

Boom! Just like that, I’m in the shoe store. What the hell? I think, looking around. How did I…? Oh, yeah, I’m dead. Then I see my shoes, my beautiful red shiny shoes, sitting on a table. Marked down. 25% off.

Today is definitely not turning out well.

All at once, as if the thought has pulled me back, I’m with my body again. Things have moved on. An ambulance has arrived, two paramedics lifting me gently onto a stretcher. I watch them curiously, taken by the fact that their hands are touching me but I can’t feel it. The still-distraught driver is now sitting in the back of a police car, blue lights flashing on top, while a tow truck winches his battered vehicle into position, ready to tow away.

So now what? None of this seems real. Which is why, I guess, that I’m not freaking out. Because I mean, normally, you would, right? But I don’t really remember it happening and I just feel that freaking out isn’t going to help things, anyhow. A strange sense of calm descends, heavy on me, as though I’m on the outside of it all. The ambulance leaves, then the police car. The tow truck driver starts his engine and then he’s gone as well, a small scatter of broken glass near the curb the only evidence that something happened here. People are starting to stroll along the sidewalk once more, the day resuming its routine. My shoes are gone too. Everything is gone except for me.

Seriously, now what?

I look around again, in case I’ve missed something. What about that bright light, the one everyone talks about? Don’t go into the light. Ha, I remember that from Poltergeist, watching it with friends when we were younger and scaring ourselves silly, shrieking like loons at the rattle of trees in the garden, possums banging in the roof space, convinced the ghosts had come to haunt us as well. But I never believed in anything specific, you know? As I grew older I vacillated between thinking that when we died that was it, show’s over, and the suspicion that there was something, I wasn’t sure what, but definitely something on the other side.

And now here I was on the other side and the show wasn’t over, not by a long shot but there didn’t appear to be a whole lot of anything here, at least that I could see. What about all those people, the loved ones already passed away, that you were supposed to see? Where was my guardian angel? Why isn’t anyone here to meet me? I mean, all right, like I say, I never really believed in all that stuff. At least I said I didn’t. But maybe a very small part of me, the part that used to lie awake alone in the early hours of morning and wonder is this it, is this my life? Maybe that part of me believed.

I look up. It’s a beautiful day, or at least it’s shaping up to be. A blue sky dotted with white drifting clouds, sun shining, the temperature hovering around the mid-twenties. Not so warm for Sydney, but it is autumn, after all. I watch the clouds for a moment and think to myself, perhaps I’m supposed to go up? You know, ascend to Heaven like they say in the Bible. I guess Heaven is where I’m supposed to be going, anyway. Or somewhere.

As I think it up I go, light as a balloon, floating out over the houses, red tile roofs and patchwork gardens like a child’s drawing as I pass overhead. I squeak in surprise, waving my arms around as I try to steady myself, rolling in the air like a fish in water until I get myself in line. I’m out over the harbour now, the big iron coat hanger of the Bridge below me, cream coloured sails of the Opera House sitting on its point. I can see the ferries, yellow and green, trails of white foam on the dark blue water, getting smaller and smaller like toys as I get higher and higher. I hold myself straight, trying not to wobble as I go up, feeling a little more in control. Yep, I can do this. Don’t know where I’m going, but I can do this. Then I notice my feet.

I’m still wearing my red shoes. But then I guess I’m wearing everything I was wearing when I, um, well, you know. Anyway, it just looks so weird, them dangling below me like that, and then I realise how high I am, clouds like white wreaths around me, the blue sparkling harbour curving out towards the distant heads and I panic. I completely lose it and start to plummet like a stone, the boats and bridge and water coming up to meet me as I close my eyes and scream, bracing myself.

You can’t die twice in one day, can you?

Well, that’s all for now, folks. Regular blogging to resume shortly 🙂

TODAY! ANOTHER GIVEAWAY & The Next Radio Request Show

Steve is having another request party tonight from 8-10pm! Promote your blog, join in the fun and maybe even win a prize 🙂 See you there – bring your dancing shoes…

Hugh’s Photo Challenge Week 9 – Stripes

Hugh, over at Hugh’s Views and News, runs a regular photo challenge with different themes every week. This week the theme is stripes, and here’s my entry:

I snapped these wonderful stripy leaves on a walk to school last autumn – I think they look quite tropical, rather than something you’d find in an English suburb, which is why they caught my eye.

For more stripy shots, head on over to Hugh’s blog, or add one of your own!

The Black Spot

This post is not the post I was planning to write today. It’s come about as a result of another post by Nick Rossis, about book piracy. Nick’s post, which is well worth a read, is about a new sort of book piracy whereby someone steals your entire book, then publishes it under their own name or with a new ASIN, through Createspace or a similar POD program, collecting royalties from sales.

After reading Nick’s post, I ran a Google search for both my books by title. Fortunately, I didn’t find them published under another name – however, I did find them offered for free on several sites, which was kind of infuriating. One site had even lifted my author bio complete with photo, plus several reviews, making it look semi-legitimate. All of these sites had disclaimers, which were basically nonsense, about how ‘they didn’t support illegal activity, they were only gateways to other sites where you actually downloaded the book, they took no responsibility’ yada yada. When I did click the download links, I was taken to other sites where I had to sign up just to read the ‘About’ page. Hmm, seems really legit.

If I felt my work appeared on any of these sites illegally (which of course it did), I could email them and let them know. Wow, thanks, guys. Thanks so much for offering my book free to your subscribers, and giving me the option to ‘let you know’ if I wasn’t happy with that. Honestly.

I was in good company on these sites – Tolkien, Neil Gaiman and Christopher Paolini also showed up, which I’m sure was just the tip of the iceberg.

And the worst part is that I couldn’t see the point in even emailing them. For starters, they were offering my book for free, which means they weren’t making any direct profits from the downloads – instead, they were making money from subscription fees and advertising. In order to claim any sort of damages, I would have to prove that I’d lost sales or that they’d made money directly from my book, which I imagine would be the most twisted of wormholes to wander down. Of course there is a moral point, where I could demand they take the damn book down and not offer it any more, thank you very much. But it would just pop up somewhere else, on another site just like that one. And so my days would be consumed by chasing and chasing, instead of doing what I love, which is writing.

There are those out there, I’m sure, who would say ‘But isn’t it a good thing? If it leads more readers to your books? It’s exposure, right? Isn’t that why you write, so people read your stories?’

To which I say, ‘Bullshit.’

Of course I write stories for people to read. That’s the reward, when someone leaves a review saying they love your book, when they recommend it to others. It is the service to the Muse, the compulsion to weave stories from thin air, characters talking so you cannot ignore what they have to say and have to write it down.

But I also spend time editing and working to make my story the best it can be. I work with a professional editor and cover designer. I market and network and promote whenever I can, because it is my job. And I can’t think of many other jobs in the world where people would be expected to provide their services for free because ‘it’s good exposure, it gets your name out there, etc etc.’ And yet we seem to be moving towards a culture where people want books and art and music and movies, but are losing sight of the fact that people need to be paid to create these wonderful things, or else they can’t actually afford to do so. I know not all people feel this way, and there are many great supporters of independent artists out there. However, there does seem to be an idea that all this creative output comes from some sort of ‘big business,’ and so it doesn’t matter if you download this for free, or stream that for free.

It does matter. It matters a great deal.

So how about you? I’m sure I’m not alone in this – in fact, I imagine that just about every writer on here is in a similar boat. If you have found your work offered for free, what have you done about it? I’d love to hear.

(PS The Black Spot is a pirate term referring to a piece of paper, black on one side with a warning on the other. When you got The Black Spot, things weren’t looking good)

Thursday Doors – El Pachuco, Barcelona

This week’s entry is yet another door from Barcelona – it’s my third one so far in this challenge. Barcelona is a beautiful city filled with art and history – we visited last year and absolutely loved it. We’d leave the hotel just after breakfast and walk all day, exploring the winding streets and golden beaches, returning late with dusty feet and full hearts.

This roller shutter door was in a back street near to our hotel and I just loved the imagery – very appropriate for a Mexican tapas place.

To see more doors, or to add your own, visit Norm 2.0 and click the link.

Wednesday Wander – Llangollen Canal

I’ve just been down a tax wormhole this morning, so it’s nice to take a break and go for a wander. Today’s Wednesday Wander was selected at random – I opened IPhoto and went to the first place I saw, which is the old canal in Llangollen, North Wales.

I’ve written about Llangollen before – it’s a place dear to my heart. My mother’s family is from that part of Wales and I remember childhood holidays spent in the are, as well as more recent trips to the small town hidden among mountains. It’s an ancient place, with the River Dee racing through, small streets of houses and the ruined castle and abbey nearby.

I’ve walked the canal several times, though these photos were taken around this time last year, when we followed it to its source. Completed in the 19th century as part of the great British canal network, it follows the wild river waters for a way, the calm still reflections a contrast to the rushing white foam below, then continues on to the Pontycsyllte aqueduct, recently designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. We walked the other way, to the weir where the river and canal meet, a huge oak tree guarding the conjunction of waters.

The day was cold, but the winter colours and mountains made for a beautiful walk. There’s a peace I find there like no other, so it seems an appropriate choice for today’s wander, when the myriad intricacies of even a simple tax invoice have made for a not-so-peaceful morning. Thanks for coming with me 🙂

Empty Cup

I’ve been feeling a bit empty, words-wise, these last couple of days. It’s always how I feel when I finish a book, even if I have other ideas on the go. I welcome the feeling though, for it’s how I can tell that I’ve completed the story.

I finished book three, Hills and Valleys, and sent it off to the editor today. And now I’m waiting. It’s like the old Zen philosophy, that the cup needs to be emptied before it can be filled. Now that I have emptied my cup of one story, I’ll wait for the Muses to decide when it will be refilled.

I’ve already written book four, by the way. Books five and six are well underway. I have another book, unrelated, which is about 95% finished, plus a few other ideas banging around in my mind. I don’t think this is special or anything – I think it’s just how writing works.

But for now my cup of words is empty, other than these few for my blog post. And I’m content. For I know it will fill again – with what, remains to be seen.

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