The A-G-E of Reading and Writing

We all learn the A-B-C of reading and writing at an early age. And what joy it can bring. Once we have learned to read, we can be transported to far-away lands, meet giants and goblins, princes and kings — all through the written word. We can learn about orthinology, quantum physics, gardening, trams or trains — whatever interests us, we can find out more about it because we have learned how to decipher the A-B-C of the written word.

For many, the joy of reading leads us to want to be the ones who write the stories others may want to read. And, again, whatever it is we are passionate about or wish to communicate, we can convey through the A-B-C of the written word.

So what about the A-G-E of reading and writing?

Well, let me just say, I am delighted to be included in the BFOR BLOG BLITZ though my offering for today is more about writing BFOR than reading them. And if this is your introduction to BFOR, I’ll tell you what it stands for:

BFOR is the acronym for Books for Older Readers and Books for Older Readers is a website and a Facebook group established in October 2017 by author Claire Baldry to promote books with older protagonists or themes such as ‘second chances’, which can particularly appeal to readers in mid-life or beyond. If you haven’t yet discovered the website or the Facebook group, I’d really urge you to take a look.

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I’d particularly like to write about Books for Older Readers – Written by Older Writers.

We all know authors come in all shapes and sizes, all ages and genders, as do their readers. An older writer will not only read or write about older people.
But is there any advantage in writing the A-G-E of your generation? Does it add authenticity to the writer’s ‘voice’ to write about a generation they have experienced?

Do older writers have an advantage over their younger colleagues when writing about older protagonists?

Younger authors must write from observation. Older authors, from experience.

An older writer has experiencing each stage of human life, from being a child, a teenager, a young adult, possibly a spouse and a parent, all the way to the later years of life, when the goalposts have been shifted so many times they are almost out of sight.

As an older writer myself – I think being 72 qualifies me to call myself ‘older’ – I have lived through all those stages, and have found, not only new goalposts, but a whole new pitch.

The journey from child to adult

planning a future, setting goals

college

work

marriage

children

homeschooling

weddings

empty nest syndrome

grandchildren

loss of loved ones

declining health

the vicissitudes of ageing

The things I have not experienced myself – like divorce, continuing singleness, and childlessness – I have experienced second hand while supporting friends and family who are/have lived them.

And this is where I get to my main point:

That is a lot of life experience to draw on when writing a novel.

It involves a lot of worry, a lot of pain, a lot of joy – a lot of life!

Surely the older writer must benefit from that when writing about older protagonists?

I can’t speak for other writers, but I know I go through every emotion with my characters. When they laugh, I laugh, when they cry, I cry, in the hopes my readers identify with the characters and the situations. I still feel passion, and I certainly feel pain in my daily life.

So, what do you think – is that an advantage when writing books that might particularly appeal to older readers?

I hope so because I’m about to publish yet another book with older protagonists, some of whom get their second chances.

😀  📚 😀 📚  😀 📚

If you want to find out more about any of my books, you can find them, ebooks here and paperbacks here.

Smorgasbord Short Stories – Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction – Carved in Wood by Sally Cronin

Great wee flash fiction story by Sally Cronin for you today.
Enjoy!

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

The Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge by Charli Mills  this week was all about trees… and  here is my story.

Carved in Wood

She traced the names, carved in the bark of their special tree fifty years ago, with her fingertips.

Peter loves Sarah forever.

But they had taken different paths. She to a wonderful husband and children, and now as a widow and grandmother. She often wondered what had happened to him, and if he had been happy. On a whim, she had returned to the wood to see the bluebells, that like their romance flowered so briefly. Beneath the carving were numbers. Intrigued she took out her mobile and dialled.

‘Hello, who is this?’

‘Sarah’

What took you so long?’

©Sally Cronin 2019

Charli Mills has written  wonderful post about how trees have been so important to her throughout her life. Well worth heading over to…

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Smorgasbord Posts from Your Archives – #PotLuck – #Poetry – Summer Sunshine by Christine Campbell

What fun! I’d forgotten I’d written this wee poem five years ago, until Sally Cronin dug it out of my archives. I’ve never considered myself a poet, but I do love a wee ditty.
Thanks, Sally, for giving this one another airing.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Welcome to the series of Posts from Your Archives, where bloggers put their trust in me. In this series, I dive into a blogger’s archives and select four posts to share here to my audience.

If you would like to know how it works here is the original post:https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2019/04/28/smorgasbord-posts-from-your-archives-newseries-pot-luck-and-do-you-trust-me/

Author Christine Campbellhas given me permission to browse her extensive archives dating back to March 2013. This week I am sharing a poem and an image that hopefully those of us enjoying wet and stormy weather can look forward to. And also a reminder to smile at the next person that you pass by….

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Summer Sunshine by Christine Campbell

Summer sunshine
Peace and laughter
Happiness
Is all I’m after.

If you see me
Stop and wonder
Don’t pass by
Face like thunder.

To hold you up
Is not my plot
Stop and look
At what I’ve got.

A…

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Get it Done

For the past couple of years, I have had an online, weekly Get it Done, session with Lynne Durham, an excellent coach. Often, I would use the session to get done the things I had been procrastinating about, even things I thoroughly enjoy doing. I had no idea why I kept putting these things off, though I suspect part of it was that I get rather engrossed in my Work In Progress and default to that when I have computer time.

What I needed was someone to help me be motivated to Get it Done, to Get Them All Done, those things on my to do list that seldom rose to the top of it. Lynne was that person.

Not only did Lynne help me find my motivation, she also helped me find the causes of my procrastination. Some of them were practical – things I didn’t know how to do, things I needed to find out. Some of them were emotional blocks. When dealing with the practical, she often shared her screen while showing me how to do something, or she guided me through the process of finding out how to do it. It was when dealing with the emotional blocks that Lynne really came into her own. She just seemed to know the right questions to ask to guide me through the discovery and healing process, and helped me see I CAN DO THIS. I even created a file under that name, containing all the methods and steps to do these daunting things I used to put off doing.

So why have I chosen to tell you this today?

Well, I no longer have those sessions because they have helped me understand myself, my goals, and what I need to do to achieve them. They have helped me become self-motivated.

So, if you are struggling to Get Things Done, if you don’t understand why you procrastinate so much, what holds you back, or what your goals are, why not find a coach, online or off, that is right for you.

Lynne was just right for me, and I can recommend her highly.

If you want to see her FaceBook page, click here.

And Go, Get it Done!

 

 

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine – Weekly Round Up

It’s such an honour to be one of the bloggers featured on Sally Cronin’s Smorgasbord site. Double exposure too because my post is also featured here in the weekly roundup.
Thank you, Sally for including me in your rummage through the archives.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Welcome to the round up of posts that you might have missed this week on Smorgasbord.

A quiet week on the home front, with a couple of days of sunshine and more today, so I will be out in the garden for much of the day…not so much making hay as getting rid of the rust in my joints!  David has been working to level off the back garden which was left as a weedy slope, and once the workmen have completed the pathway and resurfaced the back patio, we shall have a lovely spot to eat out which gets the sun in the summer until 10.00pm.  Also another step to getting the house ready to go on the market next spring.

I have also managed to find dry enough days to finish by pot plants. We then had three days of torrential rain and I am afraid some of…

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Meeting Mhairi

 In a previous post, I introduced you to Caitlin and Matt, two of the main characters in the contemporary strand of my latest release, A Mountain of Memories, which is available as an ebook here and as a paperback here.

Woven through the contemporary story there is a historic thread, and in the video below, I introduce you to Mhairi, the main character of that strand.

If you want to see more about the characters or the story, I regularly post that sort of information about all my novels in my FaceBook group: Lifting The Lid off Christine’s Kist of Stories

All of my novels are available as ebooks here and as paperbacks here

A Mountain of Memories

A childhood trip from Edinburgh to explore Caitlin’s family’s history results in tragedy on a mountainside above the village of Kinlochleven, a tragedy so traumatic it was wiped from her memory. As an adult she is still affected by the events that took place there.

Over a century earlier, Caitlin’s great-great grandmother, Mhairi, watches the village of Kinlochleven being born, suffering through its birth pangs.

Caitlin and Mhairi’s lives are linked by their common heritage, and as their stories become intertwined, Caitlin is drawn back to the question that has haunted her for eleven years.

What really happened on that mountainside?

What one reader says about the historic strand of the novel:

“I loved getting to know Mhairi when I first read A Mountain of Memories to myself. Her life is undoubtedly harsh, and she carries within her an innocence, a strength, and a romantic heart too. There’s a lyrical quality to your writing, which your narration enhances, and so this reading brings Mhairi even more vividly to life for me.”

Introducing Mhairi:

A Mountain of Memories

Happy days!

My latest release, A Mountain of Memories, is now available to purchase on Amazon Kindle at http://mybook.to/Mountain

The paperback is also available now from the publisher, feedaread.com

Meanwhile, I thought perhaps you’d like to know what this book is about:


A childhood trip from Edinburgh to explore Caitlin’s family’s history results in tragedy on a mountainside above the village of Kinlochleven.
As an adult she is still affected by the events that took place there, though most of her memories of that day were lost as a result of its trauma.
Over a century earlier, Caitlin’s great-great grandmother, Mhairi, watched the village of Kinlochleven being born, suffering through its birth pangs.
Caitlin and Mhairi’s lives are linked by their common heritage, and as their stories become intertwined, Caitlin is drawn back to the question that has haunted her for eleven years.
What really happened on that mountainside?

I hope you enjoy author readings, because here I am, reading the first part of A Mountain of Memories:

What one early reader is saying:
“This is an absolute MUST read! I was utterly captivated from the very beginning.
A Mountain of Memories is completely immersive, strikingly intelligent and enticingly interesting with a twist you will not see coming. This book explores something all of us can relate to and is written with a depth of feeling, warmth and understanding using words and language with such care and attention, characters so full of depth that they are left in your heart well after turning the last page!
Find a cosy chair, get a cup of something hot, put your phone on silent, curl up and enjoy!”

ebook: http://mybook.to/Mountain

paperback: https://www.feedaread.com/books/A-Mountain-of-Memories.aspx

Sally’s Cafe and Bookstore – New Book on the Shelves -#Scotland – A Mountain of Memories by Christine Campbell

Sally Cronin has been kind enough to include my latest release, A Mountain of Memories, on her bookshelf on her wonderful Smorgasbord site.

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Delighted to share the news of the latest release by Christine CampbellA Mountain of Memories.

About A Mountain of Memories

A childhood trip from Edinburgh to explore Caitlin’s family’s history results in tragedy on a mountainside above the village of Kinlochleven.

As an adult she is still affected by the events that took place there, though most of her memories of that day were lost as a result of its trauma.

Over a century earlier, Caitlin’s great-great grandmother, Mhairi, watched the village of Kinlochleven being born, suffering through its birth pangs. Caitlin and Mhairi’s lives are linked by their common heritage, and as their stories become intertwined, Caitlin is drawn back to the question that has haunted her for eleven years.

What really happened on that mountainside?

A historic story folded into a contemporary story, the two linked by family, location and events.

One of the early editiorial…

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Dog Training – a Short Story.

It’s cold and grey here in Scotland today. Perfect weather for cuddling up on the couch with a blanket and something to read, so I thought I’d help you out with a short story.
If you live somewhere warm and sunny, reading a short story while soaking up the sun can be rather pleasant too, especially if you have a cool drink to hand and your sunhat perched. 😎🤓📚😀
~~~
This short story won first prize at a conference for The Scottish Association of Writers, many moons ago, and it was where I first developed the character, Hugh, whose story I subsequently wrote in my novel, For What it’s Worth.
Being a short story, it is easily and quickly read, so I hope you enjoy it when you get a moment or two to chill.
If you want to read more of my work, you can find all of my published novels listed here on Amazon.

🐶

Dog Training

 

“Excuse me, sir. I’m afraid dogs are not allowed in the park without a lead.” The Park Keeper pointed to the sign.

“Ah, yes! I see that, but you see, the thing is …”

“The thing is, sir, your dog is fouling on my grass. There’s a penalty for that.” The Park Keeper pointed to the relevant notice. “Unless, of course, you use a pooper-scooper and dispose of the offending mess appropriately, sir.”

“Ah, yes! I see that too, but you see, the thing is …”

He reached into the pouch he wore across his body. “The thing is, sir, I have some plastic bags here for just such an occasion.” And he handed one over. 

“Ah, yes! I see. Plastic bag. Yes.” Hugh looked at the bag as though it was from outer space. “And what exactly?” He made a vague waving gesture with it.

“Never done this before, have we, sir.”

“No, actually. No, haven’t. Haven’t needed to really.”

“Ah! New to this area, are we?”

Hugh nodded, looking at the dog as it crouched on the grass adding to its offence. 

“Thought so. Standards, sir. It’s all about standards, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir. We like to keep our park up to a high standard. Litter, dogs’ mess, ball-games – these are the things that bring a park down, you know.”

“Quite, yes. Yes. I can imagine.” Hugh wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Thing is, don’t you know.” He still held the plastic bag at arm’s length. A look of puzzlement crossed his face when he looked at it.

“If I may, sir?” The Park Keeper took the bag from his grasp and walked across the grass to the offending pile. “Allow me to demonstrate the use of the plastic bag as a pooper-scooper.” And this he ably did. “One places one’s hand inside the bag, thus.” He demonstrated. “Pick up the poop, thus.” He did. “Turn the bag inside out, thus.” Again, accomplished expertly. “Thereby containing the mess within the bag, to be disposed of in the receptacle provided.” He indicated the bin at the end of the path.

“I say, well done.” Hugh applauded. “Donald, is it?” He gave a nod to the name badge on the Park Keeper’s jacket.

“Thank you, sir.” Donald beamed. When Hugh made no move to relieve the Park Keeper of the plastic bag of pooh, he walked across to the bin and demonstrated how it should be deposited. “Thus.”

Hugh nodded his understanding. “Yes. Yes. Quite. Now, the thing is, you see.”

“And now, sir. May I suggest you collect your dog and put it on its leash before any further mishap occurs?”

“Good idea. Yes. The thing is though …” Hugh raised his hands, displaying the lack of a dog leash.

“Ah, I see your problem now.” The Park Keeper clicked his fingers together. He reached into his pouch once more. “Fortunately, I carry this length of rope for just such an occasion.” He handed it to Hugh.

“Rope. Yes. I imagine you …” He held the rope out and wiggled it about a bit as though putting it through the dog’s collar.

“Exactly, sir. Now, if you’d care to call the dog.”

“Yes. Yes. See what you mean. Call the dog. Rover, don’t you know. Always called my dogs Rover. Ever since I was a boy. Got a puppy for my birthday.” Hugh smiled at the memory of waking to the warm, wet nose snuffling round his face. He’d wanted a dog so much, hadn’t dared to hope his mother would let him have one of his very own. He’d called him Rover, unable to think of a more original name. Continued to call it Rover even after realising, or, rather, being told, he was a she. “Old-fashioned now, I suppose. The name, I mean. Rover. Still, Mumsie has kept up the tradition, don’t you know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hugh drew himself back from his thoughts and shook his head. “No matter. You see, the thing is …”

“If you’d care to call the dog, sir?”

Hugh could see Donald was getting edgy.

“This particular dog has been, ahem, irritating me, shall we say, on and off for days now. Never on a leash, trotting about as if it owns the park, cocking its leg where it will, digging in the flower beds.”

Hugh affected a look of understanding and sympathy.

“I’ve been watching out for you, sir, and I’m pleased to have the opportunity to make clear the park rules concerning animals. “If you wouldn’t mind, sir?”

The dog was perilously close to a beautiful display of roses. In fact he was beginning to dig around them.

Hugh looked doubtful, but reluctantly co-operated with the request. “Rover! Erm, Rover!” he called self-consciously and ineffectually.

The Park Keeper smiled his encouragement.

Hugh tried again. “I say Rover, old boy, do come over here.” He tapped the rope against his leg.

The dog, a large black Labrador, disdained to come over anywhere, but began digging in earnest, putting the roses in serious jeopardy.

Hugh pursed his lips and attempted to whistle, not something he was ever good at, but something he always believed he would someday be able to do. He felt it was a requirement of a dog owner and had sought to perfect the technique since being given that first puppy, also a black lab as it happened.

The sound that came from his lips was thin and frail and the dog could be excused for ignoring it.

Hugh called again. The dog dug on. The roses toppled in the dirt.

“Not well trained,” Donald remarked through gritted teeth. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir,” he said.

“No. No.” Hugh was eager to reassure the Park Keeper. “I don’t mind at all. Completely in agreement on that point. Has a will of his own, don’t you know.”

“Do you mind if I try?” The Park Keeper indicated his willingness to round up the dog. 

“Not at all,” Hugh said earnestly. “Be my guest.” And he handed over the coiled rope.

“May I suggest, sir, you go round that way?” Donald indicted one side of the shrubbery. “While I advance from this direction. That way we can perhaps cut off his escape.”

“By all means,” Hugh acquiesced. 

Labrador Retrievers are not by nature difficult dogs and Rover proved true to his breed, allowing himself to be rounded up and captured without much protest.

“Firmness, you see, sir,” Donald said with due pride. “They respond to firmness. Firmness of voice. You have to let them know who’s in charge.”

“Yes, absolutely. Yes. I see that. Thank you. Well done. Most Impressive.” Hugh knew it was true. Mumsie had often tried to goad him into being his dog’s master rather than its playmate. The role had never suited him and none of the dogs he’d owned over the years had been fooled by any attempts on his part to play it.

The Park Keeper dusted down his jacket and stood tall. “And now, sir, if you’d be so good as to remove the animal from the vicinity.” He handed the rope over to Hugh. “I’ll tidy up round the roses.”

“Yes. Yes. The thing is, you see …” his voice trailed off when he realised the Park Keeper was no longer listening. Obviously, as far as he was concerned, the matter was now satisfactorily concluded.

“I’ll fetch a rake,” he said.

“Yes, yes, of course. By all means,” Hugh agreed.

When Donald returned, he seemed surprised to find Hugh still there.

Hugh was sitting on a bench and the dog was far off, digging again at the same spot, the roses torn and scattered between its paws.

The Park Keeper drew a long breath between gritted teeth and bore down on Hugh. “Ahem!” He coughed. “Excuse me again, sir.”

“Oh, hello!” Hugh smiled. “Waiting,” he explained. “Waiting for my wife.” He looked at his watch. “Late.” He pulled a tolerant face. 

“The dog, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Still here, isn’t he.”

“I did mention before, sir, the necessity of a leash?”

“Yes. Yes. Absolutely! You see, the thing is.” Hugh raised his hand, still clutching the rope.

The Park Keeper’s eyes followed the length of the rope as it snaked across the grass all the way to the dog’s collar. “Ah, yes. I see. Not quite the spirit of the injunction, may I say, sir?”

“Well, I must say,” Hugh said as he stood up. “It’s been very nice speaking with you, quite, you know, quite, well, quite educational, in fact.” He waved to Yvonne. “Bit of a lesson in dog-handling, don’t you know. But now, I see my wife coming. So, if you don’t mind.” He handed the rope to the Park Keeper. “You see, the thing is, at this point in time, I don’t actually have a dog.”

~~~

Gold Plated Review

What a boost I received this morning to find that Anne Williams, a lady I have never met, but would really like to one day, had read and reviewed my latest novel, Gold Plated. It was an excellent review for several reasons.

For one thing, it was an example of how to write a review. there were no plot spoilers in it, and she didn’t retell the story, both things that are unnecessary and annoying in a review. What Anne Williams did, was to share what she liked and didn’t like about the book, and why she liked or didn’t like these things.

She commented on the story and the quality of writing, which is what a potential reader wants to know about.

Gold Plated, along with all of my novels, is available as an ebook or a paperback here

And the review is available on Anne Williams website, here

Apart from anything else, it’s well worth reading as a model of how to review a book.

https://beinganne.com/2018/12/review-gold-plated-by-christine-campbell-campbama-womensfiction-olderreaders/

 

 

 

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