She shifted on the chair. The door was there. Was she making a mistake not signing the silly bit of paper? What if he kept turning up at all her signings? She could scream. She could have him arrested. Given the way he flitted all over the place like a vampire bat, the prison didn’t exist that would hold him however. Signing would get rid of him for good. Signing would probably ensure none of this ever happened.
“Actually, if you do want my autograph . . .”
“Brittany, I’m not here for-–”
“I’ll give you it. I’ll sign your piece of paper too. It’s really no odds. You and your time-mutant friends want peace. That’s my choice and my pleasure. If not, don’t come back.”
His gaze, dull as his eyebrows, flickered over her.
“Do you really think you can stick to that?”
She reached forward. It was worth parting with another book to get rid of him, since he clung to his copy like a drowning mariner. She opened it, scraped the pen across the paper.
“To Mort, with all my love, Brittany Carter. Will that do? Hmm? Or do you want something more personalized? Like . . . well, I forbear to say.”
A shrug of his equally un-expressive shoulders. “Whatever suits you.”
“Well, what suits me is for you to go away, Mort. So if you’d also care to hand me that bit of paper, I’ll also prove I’m as good as my word. Just make sure, you don’t go bursting into flames in here. Although they do say there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
Copyright Shehanne Moore Soul Mate Publishing
Bonnie Prince Charlie, Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites, Charles Edward Stuart, Culloden, Edinburgh, Greyfriar's Bobby, Jacobites, Literary Edinburgh, Robert Louis Stevenson, Scotland, Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, SIr Walter Scott, The Jacobites, The National Museum of Scotland
Brittany. Oh God, not you lot again. Darlings, don’t you have a cage or something to be in? Your little balls to play with? Hmm?
Brittany. All the better to amuse yourselves with then darlings. Now then what is it you want to know? So long as it’s not will I ever be a nice Georgian housewife, how to instruct a servant, or can you have one of my fags, or any of my booze, we’re good.
Brittany . But I do, darlings. So? Playlist? Well when she was writing the Viking and the Courtesan which I understand is about my granddaughter Malice…
Shey listened a lot to the first piece on this list, probably because she plays and has taught it several times too. So obviously when writing more of the series it was her starting point, just as Mitchell and I are. I think she found the epic scope of it inspiring, although our story was not nearly as epic as all the things Malice went through, a shipwreck, a convent raid nearly being burned to death in a Valhalla style funeral in Viking times, being kidnapped, locked up and then incarcerated in a lunatic asylum in Regency times, all the time just trying to find her way to where she wanted to be.
The rest though? Well, these were ours, pure and simple. As to why darlings? Well, you’ll just have to listen won’t you? Any lines about smiling like you mean it which I do all the time, sort of anyway, being far apart on this old carousel, and people rather being lonely than being by someone’s side, are of course incidental….
Right dudes, that’s enough. Paul Andruss, in the short time I have known him, has proved to be a wonderful author and a very kind and supportive friend. I love his blogs. They are fun and informative and I’m enjoying his choices
Paul is also writer in residence over at Sally Cronin’s blog
Writer in Residence- Paul Andruss https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/writer-in-residence-writer-paul-andruss/
The posts are always a treat.
So? Without further ado, here’s my five and why out of all the music I’ve listened to and loved– and music has always been a huge thing in my life– I have chosen these pieces. The first I’ve got here twice because the first vid is only the tap dance–I can’t find the whole thing. But the tap dance? Well, let’s just say they don’t do them like this any more. AS to why I have really chosen this…read on.
Why did I choose this piece? It’s not of my era at all. Because the music I grew up with was these oldies. We lived in a tough sink scheme and we had an old gramophone
No, it wasn’t. Shut yir gub. It kinda looked like this.
And piles of old 78s, which the wee boy next door and me, used to drop paper and plastic astronaut figures from the Rice Krispies box on and watch them spin to see what would happen. ( Usually a whack. ) Yeah of course vinyl was invented but these oldies were the background to my life. People had very little. My dad, who was high up in bomb disposal, had come out the army. He’d come back with my mum and sister from what was probably quite a glitzy life in Hongkong, to nothing. No job. No house. This music reminds me of my mum and dad who originally belonged to THIS 30’s glamorous era, at least on the surface when in fact they were from far, far, worse tough and harder, than what I grew up in. It was an era where cinema was a great escape and my hometown had a ton at that time.
Not long before my mum died, I had complimentary tickets to a special showing of Top Hat and I took her. I’m glad I did because she was enthralled. Before I get too sloppy..
‘I’m sorry I ate your fish,’ she said to him one night in the middle of a heated row after he’d weaved home from the local with a fish supper.
“So am I. I hope it chokes you,” said he.
It’s that dynamic I try to get at in my books.
Let us NOT underestimate this NOT written by The Beatles song when it was sung by them. Forget everything they went on to do. Imagine that we have NEVER known of them and what they gave the world. Okay? On that same ‘Radiogram’ Elvis was banned. We were not allowed to listen to ‘certain’ kinds of music. The staple diet was, ‘Bali Hi’ ( WE LISTEN EVERY NIGHT, EVERY DAY) ‘Shall We Dance,’ –nothing wrong with that as I once helped demonstrate to a hall full of kids to the horror of my own when I re-enacted that scene for a giggle. AND to quote the words in that musical, our staple diet was etc etc., and crooners.
SO my big sis goes away for the summer to work and she comes back, having met her future hubby, an art student. (Get this, the now world famous photographer, then just another art student, Albert Watson, was the best man at that wedding. ) And she whispers , ‘Come here.. .listen to this… You HAVE to listen to this. THIS is what is out there.’ And she puts on this sound that I have never heard –a very quickly snatched and scratched sound when our mum came in. I have to tell you, laugh all you like, but it was like a window on another world.
It was like how you will always be certain things inside, no matter what. Not always easy in life but vital as breathing. Forget that and you forget everything. I still love to blare out Jeepster when I am cooking and do all the steps, with the carving knife and all……. Doot, doot, doot, chopping the veggies. ( Neighbours can complain all they like. Big mistake.)
Give this next choice a moment…
Ok. So sometimes life takes a hard twist. Hell, show me the straight path and I will laugh. That is why I won’t bore you with the details. I have two versions here because it depends if you like noisy-ish or quiet.-Let’s just say I found something in the words and the tune.
So now we move on. Talking dark twists, Nick Cave’s life has had a few. A few years ago my younger girl came to me one night and she said, ‘I have something to tell you and I don’t know what to do.’ And I couldn’t be happier or more blessed about what she did do, despite being in the middle of a law diploma, despite having no money, despite her partner just having set up for himself and having no work. I have a lovely wee grandbaby who leaves me breathless every single time I see him. (And not cos he is a powerhouse.) He stills everything in me. AND, the funniest thing? He first heard this favourite of mine on my last birthday, where he came in shouting ‘Partay!’ and jammed the Cd player up full volume (can’t think who he takes that off at age two and a half ) and he went, ‘Nina, we dance,’ and every time he hears it, he goes, ‘Nina, dance wi me,’ and he stands there and takes my hands. He has had my heart since I first saw him at half past three in the morning of the difficult night he was born. He always will.
Nominations? Please. All of you try boiling your life to five songs, cos in a way that is what you are doing, have a go and post your choices. it is harder than you think. Even the dudes have shut it for once.
‘First of all, I’d like to thank you for having me on your blog. It means a lot to me.’
‘I would like to share with you and your readers my main inspirations of this story.’
‘Okay. One day, my dear friend Louis Stevens posted a video of a sing’r Gavin DeGraw on his Facebook account. It was lovely and I loved the singer’s song. Well, one of my favorite singers is Ed Sheeran and I told Louis it would be a dream come true if Ed sings together with Gavin. A moment later, voila! Louis posted a video of them both singing together!
‘Long story short, How Long Will I Love You was born. The title of this story was from a song but it was another story altogether and it wasn’t sung by any of the men.’
By the way, here is the video of Gavin and Ed performing together on stage. I totally fell in love with them. I got completely inspired. My story isn’t in any way a real story about them, though.
Now if you watch the video until the end, it was their hug that completely melted my heart.
”To tell you the truth, I’m not really familiar with Gavin DeGraw’s work. It’s Ed Sheeran’s I totally love. I kept listening to his songs while writing How Long. Here are some of my very favorites:’
(My thanks to Louis Stevens to show me this the first time!)
The A Team
It might look weird for a musician to *fangirl* another musician, but Ed Finley didn’t give a damn. He adored and had a crush on singer and pianist, Gavin O’Malley—to the point of sticking O’Malley’s pin-ups all over the walls of his room. Ed thought his dream had come true when he was scheduled to perform together with his idol on stage.
Gavin O’Malley thought Ed was okay when they ended up being together that night. The night meant everything to Ed, while it was only another one-night stand for Gavin.
Ed decides to stay away while Gavin, after rejecting Ed, couldn’t stop thinking about the other man. Will Gavin get a chance to tell Ed his true feelings?
Iyana writes M/M short stories and novellas. Her works have been published by Evernight Publishing, JMS Books, Books to Go Now, Torquere Press, Bitten Press, Leap of Faith Publishing, Breathless Press, and Alfie Dog Fiction.
Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.
Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has three of them. Their names are Cil, Horus, and Betsy, and one kitten. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.
Unlike his nibbs, Lord Devorlane Hawley hero of Loving Lady Lazuli….
Obviously. Although it’s not exactly how he is now. Now he’d sooner pour over the brandy and opium. Oh and the ladies. Still…
Isn’t he the smart one? Of course there’s no such thing as actual thieving manuals. But it’s still…
Better? Or maybe Trollope is a hit or miss? Well, then there’s what’s reckoned to be the first English detective novel..
No. She never. You know something, maybe this one
Putting the books Dev might have read aside, how might you know your new squeeze is a thief? Apart from the fact the candlesticks are missing from the mantelpiece and she already left you holding the bag like a prize klutz? I mean it just might be you give her the benefit of the doubt, unlike Dev.
I think we’ve got it,
Ten years ago sixteen year old Sapphire, the greatest jewel thief England has ever known, ruined Lord Devorlane Hawley’s life. Now she’s dead and buried, all the respectable widow, Cassidy Armstrong, wants is the chance to prove who she really is.
But not only does her new neighbor believe he knows that exactly, he’s hell-bent on revenge. All he needs is the actual proof. So when he asks her to choose between being his mistress, or dangling on the end of a rope, only Sapphire can decide…
What’s left for a woman with nowhere left to go, but to stay exactly where she is?
Oh all right. A lot. A Shey pub crawl in fact. What is hair for if not for letting down?
SO instead……I have places…..what more can you want? Don’t answer. Especially as ok…it IS a reblog from a post I did a year ago. Also it will soon be that big day in the Romance writer’s calendar. Even for a dark, twisty one like me…
They’re going to be talking about those literary first kisses…. Now come on, you do not want us spilling more about our own. Lust? Love? Or what? Anyway, it being that romantic time…what could be better than romantic places…in–still being true to Rabbie — Scotland.
No. Being a visitor centre this isn’t my favorite. Not that I’ve anything against them, apart from the fact you can’t get parked and then people stand on your feet when you do. Guided tours now… Did I really just say the Scots weren’t romantics? Well, I don’t know about that but Scotland was the only place in Britain where you could marry at the age of 12 without parental consent. What was more you didn’t need a priest or a minister. Just a blacksmith to perform the ceremony, so keen were we Scots to – quote my hero – get to it.
Oh please, don’t ask me why this is here – apart from the fact it’s beautiful. I mean no famous star-crossed Scottish lovers met here that I know of. But there is a song. And the song is famous. And it is about two lovers, so…of course it’s here.
Hotly rumored to be the place the English princess Margaret, first clapped eyes on Malcolm – the third Scottish king of that name, after a storm drove her ship north. Margaret being a very pious woman I am behaving myself. Whatever the truth of that storm story, the uncouth warrior king and her polar opposite, adored her for the duration of their married life.
All right, I’m not sure about Lady Devorgilla loving her man so much she carted his embalmed heart about in a silver box with ivory trimmings. Personally it sounds a bit like the kind of thing some of heroines might do but not because they’re in any way in love. But how can I ignore a title like that?
Okay, Glencoe has had some bad press lately, with the Savile abuse scandal and climbers killed there last year on the Bidean and Buchaille. But those who know it will argue it deserves its tag as most romantic place in Scotland. And I am one of those. And the most romantic place in it is the Lochan. You can read of it here. All right a bit of self promo – it’s on this blog.https://shehannemoore.wordpress.com/2012/09/10/she-had-seduced-him/
We also know Glencoe had bad press before in 1692.
Arthur Conan Doyle, Auld Lang Syne, Captain Hook, George Douglas Brown, Ivanhoe, J.M Barrie, Lew Grassi Gibbon, Long John SIlver, Peter Pan, Pirates, Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson, Scottish literary giants, Sherlock Holmes, Sunset Song, Tam o'Shanter, The House with the Green Shutters, Treasure Island, Walter Scott
‘Wha’s like us—damn few and they’re all deid.’ as we say here in Scotland. In keeping with my little Scottish theme, I had planned on having this post up on Tuesday but as Rabbie
himself would have said, the best laid schemes o’ mice and men etc, etc, etc, went so far a gley. Don’t you just love it when your PC gets kow-powed by an update? As I sat biting me nails wondering if my data had indeed been swiped, I managed to cobble together a sort of Frankensteinian affair.
Feeling it is preferable to shove bamboo shoots beneath ones fingernails either. Although when it flagged up it had recovered from a serious malfunction after I kicked it defo showed it had some sense. It is called booting your PC I believe. Preferably in its steel goolies.
Anyway Scots’ literary giants. Wha’s like us? Plenty. Every country has its giants.
But I’m suggesting that maybe that’s the toast those in the main picture would drink to one another. Unless of course they were — For a small nation, let’s look at just what these Scots’ literary gents gave the world.
Let’s start with Rabbie, Scotland’s ploughboy poet. Do you know he even inspired my top commenter Ranting Crow to write this for a sort of joke?
But the all deid bit is.A silver tongue and matching looks
had farmers boy write poetry books
a coin for his addiction he crave
left him dead and poor in his grave
not a single day he lived alone
When thousand visited his resting stone
Who hasn’t heard of Auld Lang Syne, or Tam O’Shanter?
And all right, Burns wrote in Scots. but let’s not forget his
‘But pleasures are like poppies spread You seize the flower, its bloom is shed. And like a snowflake in the river One moment here, and then gone forever…….Or like the rainbow’s lovely form. Evanishing amid the storm.’
I know a descendant on his mother’s side. The guy’s first name…Barrie, spelt a la J.M..
Long John Silver, creation of Robert Louis Stevenson who ranks amongst the 26 most translated authors in the world and someone who “seemed to pick the right word up on the point of his pen, like a man playing spillikins’ according to G.K Chesterton. Robert Louis also gave us —Talking world famous characters, let’s move to another author, another creation….
Many faces, one creation. Sherlock Holmes, all the work of the Edinburgh born Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Not telling you who my fav Sherlock is. There’s ones I haven’t even included.
Next up….Sir Walt. My lord, another baronet. I have to say I am not a big fan of Sir Walt and yeah it peed me off big time that Ivanhoe married Rowena.
(A visit to specsavers was in order)
But Scott’s place on the world’s stage is still assured with that story.
Now this one above IS a fav mine even if Grassic Gibbon might not rank with the A listers. He still made his mark with his stream-of-consciousness and lyrical use of dialect and the book is considered one of the most important Scottish novels of last century. The pity was he died young.
Gibbon’s took his inspiration from another fav of mine, George Douglas Brown, an illegitimate farmer’s son, who died even younger. Unfortunately it was the year before the release of his classic story, The House With The Green Shutters, a book that broke the kail-yard stereotype. A sort of grand gothic affair almost in terms of a family and what can befall them against the backdrop of Barbie…oh not the doll, the fictional place. It’s well worth reading if you don’t know it.
I’m sticking here for today. I still have my films to get to next and a load more stuff to install on my revitalised PC.
And being a good Scot’s lass–ok mixed ancestry but hey– to celebrate I am going to be looking at certain things Scottish over the next few blogs. Sharon Struth, can we just get the kilts out the way now, please thank you…
Kara and the Wolf –my hero and heroine of His Judas Bride — will give you their own Burns supper. Yes. Ewen and Dug may even attend doing the toast tae the dugs. (Anne Lange WILL like that). I want to look at who I believe are the best Scots literature giants and their creations…. Scottish films… Then there’s Scots royalty…
SO do tune in.
To start with I am reblogging some Scottish women…ones who absolutely knew their place in life as Scottish women do, but that will be it for the reblogs. Besides I know there are those who are yet to read…….
Looking incredibly noble here for someone about to have their arm snapped….let’s see how good she looks after eh?…. did Kate sit mutely doing her embroidery, saying I know my place, when assassins arrived to kill James 1st of Scotland? A quite common occurrence for a Scottish king, by the way. No. Kate’s place was at the chamber door, sticking her arm through the staples, while the King fled into a sewer tunnel. Now, if she had spent all these hours embroidering tapestries and bed sheets, would she have had the eyesight to see the bolt had been removed? She didn’t save the king by the way, but it wasn’t for want of getting her arm broken for her trouble.
Jenny certainly knew her place in that she went to church. Yes. But as for sitting quietly there, Jenny wasn’t for having Charles 1st’s new prayer book. ‘Daur ye say mass in my lug?’ Jenny enquired, turfing her prayer stool at the minister. Before we go thinking Jenny did this entirely from a desire to keep her ears unblemished, she, and a number of other women had been paid to disrupt the service. Would any man have done that if he thought woman were meek and mild? Jenny’s stunt sparked a riot, which led to a war, which led to the execution of a king, Charles 1st. Who says only the Scots did that? Mind you he was of Scots’ descent.
Well, what list of Scottish women would be complete without Flora? When the Bonnie Prince fled Culloden, more or less landing up on her doorstep with his tattered hopes and dreams, a price on his head, did she say, I’m awfie sorry Charlie, but I wouldnae be kenning my place if I let you in the night?
Absolutely not. Flora did time for taking the Prince, disguised as a maidservant, by boat, over the sea to Skye.
Again, the list would be incomplete given the way Mary blazed through life. Imprisoned at the age of 25, by which time she’d lived a lifetime, widowed twice, a son she would never see again, a ruinous marraige to the kidnapping, allegedly rapacious, Bothwell, Mary had a lot of time to learn her place. But the feisty queen preferred to spend her time escaping, allegedly writing letters implicating her in her second husband’s murder and getting involved in various plots. All leading to her place eventually being on the executioner’s block – in a dark red petticoat no less.
Mary would hardly be commemorated on Scottish banknotes today if she’d known her place. At that time in Dundee? You would have to be mad. Mary was soon saving hundreds of sets of twins in Calabar – a place said to be less rough than Dundee Hilltoon on a Saturday night – nursing, teaching, and generally gaining a respect unknown for a woman there. it wouldn’t have happened if she’d worked in a Dundee jute mill.
NEXT UP. On their first Burns Night together just how will Kara and the Wolf, not to mention Dug, fare……?