Tag Archives: blogging

Writing Hub -Books, Writing, Tips & more…


writing-hub

Writing:

The Industry Insiders: Making a Living as a Hybrid Author event I attended spurred me on to do something about my blog. It has been successful but I feel it requires a boost! I connected with one of the panel authors, who agreed to review my blog and give me some pointers on improving my presence on the net. I will keep you posted.

I also spent time editing Life in Slake Patch prior to submission to the Writer in Residence. Unfortunately I did not complete the manuscript revisions (life gets in the way) but hopefully during this week I will. Then it will be back to The Twesome Loop revisions prior to sending it out to beta readers.

My other project over the weekend was to review and detail a ghost writing request from a client. There was quite a lot of research involved, which was interesting but time consuming. My proposal is now in the hands of the client.

Books:

hope

I am enjoying this book but it is not as good as the previous two by this author. It seems a bit contrived. However, I am intrigued as to how the protagonist will survive and the story conclude so will continue. I am half way through at the moment.

On my TBR pile are two novels by a local author, Joss Laundry (see her interview here: https://mandyevebarnett.com/2016/12/05/joss-landry-interview-5th-december/) I’m looking forward to reading them.

Writing TipJonathan Franzen

“The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator.”

What writing project are you tackling at the moment?

Do you have a writing tip to share?

What book can you recommend?

 

Blog Wrap Up for 2016…


thank-you

Firstly a huge thank you to all my followers for dropping by to comment, read and share my musings. You are from all points of the globe, in fact  179 different countries have visited this site.  242 flags collected – that is amazing.

flag-2016

In 2016 for the first time, I split the themes of each day into two six month slots – firstly  Lost Words kindly approved by the http://phrontistery.info/ were on Mondays from January until June and then I invited author interviews, writing tips, stories etc for the second half Mondays. I also shared my road trip adventures around Alberta.

Wednesdays began with a look at alternative lifestyles in deference to my speculative fiction novel I was working on entitled, Life in Slake Patch. The second half was reincarnation/life after death, which tied into my reincarnation romance, The Twesome Loop but also because this subject has always fascinated me. I was fortunate to have some special guests involved in these posts.

On Saturday’s I posed writing prompts and the added incentive of prizes for whomever responded.

As 2016 becomes 2017 – I wish you all a healthy, loving, and exciting year.

2017

Facebook Group Spotlight – Medieval Romance Novels. The Rython Kingdom…


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Facebook Group – Medieval Romance Novels. https://www.facebook.com/groups/MedievalRomanceNovels/

On today’s post I am reflecting the post I put onto the above group with the added bonus of an excerpt. The novella is actually two stories in one, the story of Guillem’s adventure and the tale he relays to the King’s court.

Bio: Mandy Eve-Barnett resides in Alberta, Canada but is originally from England. She is a multi-genre author and freelance writer and lives and breathes the written word and creativity in all its forms. She is the Secretary of her local writing group, the Writers Foundation of Strathcona County, and President of the Arts and Culture Council of Strathcona County.
Mandy publishes regularly on her blog – http://www.mandyevebarnett.com – where she has built a thriving writing community – sharing tips, news, interviews, and excerpts. She has published three children’s books and her adult novella, set in medieval England, The Rython Kingdom. She has also co-written a guide to memoir writing. Currently working on four manuscripts Mandy is never happier than writing and creating imaginary worlds.
Blog: http://www.mandyevebarnett.com
Twitter https://twitter.com/mandyevebarnett
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/Mandyevebarnettcom/
Link to excerpt of The Rython Kingdom https://mandyevebarnett.com/my-adult-books/

Rython Altiusmwelsh-castle

Excerpt: 

The Rython Kingdom –  Chapter One

“He’s coming! He’s coming! Guillem Ruet is here!”

Guillem smiled at the group of children running beside his horse as he rode toward the castle’s drawbridge. Dirty and barefooted, these youngsters would not be lucky enough to hear his newest tale, first hand. That pleasure would be for the inner court alone. It was a strange and most complex tale and all the more mysterious for being made of a dream.

Shouts of his approach preceded him, thrown from one person to the next across the dirt track and woven among the shacks lining it. The summer heat had denuded the earth of moisture; dust swirled around his mount’s hooves, creating a cloak of fine grains behind them, shrouding rider and horse. Ahead, the King’s standards lay limp against their poles high above on the castle turrets; thin strips of coloured cloth obscuring the lion head emblem of the king. More children, and some adults, ran beside him, eager to witness this famed troubadour first hand. The talk among the courtiers and peasants alike had been of his arrival and little else for many weeks.

As Guillem entered under the portcullis, it brought back memories of returning from battle years previously. Conquering heroes were showered with flowers and rewarded with grand feasts and warmed by many a maid. Serving as a knight in his younger days, Guillem had been admired for his prowess in battle, but now he was even more revered as a troubadour. His tales of battles and faraway lands held audiences spell bound as he punctuated them with displays of swordsmanship and the exhibiting of combat scars. So popular was Guillem that a feast or festival without his presence was considered incomplete. Fierce competition between lords kept Guillem’s purse and belly full as he traveled from one borough to the next, shamelessly attending whomever paid the highest fee. His new life fulfilled his wander-lust. Being confined to one place filled him with dread as did faithfulness to just one maid. Why restrict yourself to one when there were so many to pick from – all willing to bed the famous knight and troubadour?

Word had reached him a month prior notifying him the king himself requested Guillem’s presence at court. It was an honor to be bestowed with such a command and Guillem did not hesitate to comply. Not dallying at Lord Suffolk’s seat; as was his usual habit. Normally, he would take advantage of the many benefits afforded him but, this time, he packed his saddlebags the very same night and set off toward the king’s domain at daybreak. Several requests for his presence had made it to his ears as he traveled but each was declined in favor of an audience at the king’s court. Once it was common knowledge the king had requested Guillem to speak, Guillem knew he would be able to use it to increase his fee.

Ahead of him now was the sovereign’s castle keep with sentries standing at both sides of a stairway leading up to massive oak doors. The excited crowd jostled for position to get closer to Guillem and perchance to touch him or his fine mount. A herald sounded his trumpet as Guillem dismounted. The shouts died away as all eyes centered on the keep’s massive doors. They slowly opened. All knees bent and heads bowed as the regal figure of King Henry was revealed, resplendent in deep purple robe and golden crown. With measured steps, King Henry descended the stone stairs.

“Welcome, Guillem Ruet, your reputation precedes you. My courtiers and subjects have talked of little else but your arrival for these many weeks. Come and drink ale with me. You must be weary from your journey.”

Guillem bowed deeply again then handed his horse’s reins to a saddle hand, who was fidgeting beside him. As the boy led his mount away, Guillem could hear the lad’s excited whisper to the surrounding crowd.

“Look, look, I have his horse to care for.”

Careful to remain a step behind, Guillem followed his King into the castle’s dark interior. The huge stone blocks prevented the heat of the outside world from entering. Guillem shivered involuntarily. I should have taken my cloak out of the saddlebag before releasing my horse into the care of the boy. Then another thought struck him and he turned to see his horse being led away on the far side of the courtyard – he had not secured the small box. He had promised a mysterious old man he would not let it leave his possession and now it was in the hands of a young stable lad.

“The fire will warm your bones, Guillem. Is something amiss? You seem anxious?”

“Thank you, Sire. I relinquished my cloak without thinking but I also forgot to retrieve a certain object.”

“Do not worry, Guillem. I will have your saddlebags brought to your room presently. If there is anything missing I shall deal with the culprit myself. But for now….” The King raised a hand to summon a serf, “Stephen, a robe for our guest.”

A young man appeared from the shadow of a stone column and presented Guillem with a thick woolen robe. Its heavy warmth felt pleasing. Serfs opened an inner door as the King approached and allowed the two men to enter the great hall. Long oak tables flanked the centre aisle below a raised platform where the King’s ornately carved table and throne stood. Following his sovereign’s lead, Guillem walked toward the roaring fire at the far side of the huge room. Its radiant heat was welcome in the cool interior of the castle.

“Sit with me, Guillem, you will soon warm. Bring ale, Stephen.”

“As you command, your majesty.”

The serf had moved so silently that Guillem jumped when he responded to his master’s command.

“Guillem, why do you start so?”

“Sorry, Sire – I was unaware of your serf’s presence; gave me a bit of a shock when he spoke.”

“Not so surprising, Guillem, we call him Silent Stephen. He seems to glide instead of walk, although to watch him you cannot see any difference from any other man’s stride.”

“Strange indeed, my Lord, is he born of a witch?”

“Actually no, Guillem, his mother was a maid to my mother. He has grown up within these walls and knows no other life than to live and serve here.”

***

blue-beads

The Rython Kingdom is available as a print book at http://www.dreamwritepublishing.ca/retail/books/rython-kingdom

Also available as an ebook from all Amazon, Smashwords and Barnes and Noble.

ebook-sites

Regression – Past Lives Visited…


reincarnationMy fascination with reincarnation began while I was a trainee nurse. I was allocated three terms on geriatric wards and although slightly unusual, I was happy to care for the elderly. Their life stories and experiences had me spell-bound on many occasions.

One particular instance sparked my curiosity and started my journey into researching life after death and reincarnation. I have related this story often and it is published on my blog within my writers group website. Here it is :

Whilst training as a nurse, I was assigned three rotations of geriatrics; two male and one female. It was while on one of the male wards that this event happened. My night shift started at 9 pm and after the usual updates from the day staff, my colleague and I were left to care for the old gentlemen.

One gentleman took my hand as I fluffed his pillows.

“Thank you so much for the daffodil.”

“Daffodil? I’m sorry, what daffodil.”

“It was so sweet of you.”

Thinking he was in a confused state, I just made sure he was comfortable and continued with my tasks with the other night nurse. The two of us administered medicines and settled the patients for the night, then turned most of the lights off. Our desk was situated at one end of the ward so we hear and see all the beds. For several hours we took turns in attending to patients needs, writing out reports and taking vitals.

At about 3:30 am, the gentleman who had spoken to me, passed away. After the doctor had been, I attended to his body. After cleaning and wrapping him in a sheet, as is the custom, I left him for an hour and went to write my report.

Later with everything in place, I watched the day staff arrive. One nurse was carrying a bunch of daffodils – yes, I was very shocked. The reason not only because of what the old man had said but also the fact that it was the midst of winter, much too early for daffodils.

“Where did you get daffodils from?”

“They’re from the florist down the street. The blooms are forced in greenhouses. I couldn’t resist a piece of spring to cheer us up.”

“May I have one bloom?”

“OK but why?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

I gently placed the yellow flower between the old gentleman’s hands, just the way he had described. He had told me he had ‘seen’ this happen and knew he was going to pass away. It had given him peace to thank me for my kind thought. As to how he had ‘seen’ this event before it happened, I have no idea, but I did want to ensure it was done.

Although this was not the first time I had experienced strange events of a spiritual kind; I had seen a ghost at the age of ten; it was the catalyst for me to start researching. Whether you believe in reincarnation or life after death or not, the subject is fascinating.  Today researching this or any other subject is easy with the internet but at that time it was visits to the library and reading through numerous books to find the details, events and research I wanted to feed my curiosity.

After several years of research, I decided to put the theories to the test and went for a regression session. Under hypnosis I was directed to seven doors. Time only allowed me to enter three. These are the lives I found through those doors. Again I have already related this event on my blog. For those of you who have not read it, here it is: Regressed Lives

Indian Squaw (Aborginal)

I look down into the still glassy water and see an old face, deep down I know it to be my face, and the deep lines creasing my eyes, cheeks and mouth are at the same time familiar and alien. Dark brown eyes and skin are in contrast to my hair, which was once a shiny ebony mantle but now streaked with silvery grey, hair now thin and wispy in one long plait down my back. Splashing my face with the icy cool water, I look up to see the tepees across the stream that feeds the lake and raise my old body upwards. I’m only good for collecting wood, minding the children and cooking. My days past slowly. Without a husband, I have to ingratiate myself to my daughter’s brave, be of help so I can have a place to sleep, tucked into the side flaps, under my buffalo bedding. Walking back the horror of that far day comes back, maybe it’s the similar setting, the crispness of the air but I ‘see’ the riders coming over the hill, the crack of the guns and the sudden screaming, startled me. The soldier’s were yelling and laughing as they rode through the camp, shooting my friends and family, everyone they see fleeing.  I was helpless to stop them, I’d screamed back but was too far away. Fear stops me running toward the murderers but my heart breaks as I watch the massacre. Crouching under a bush I covered my ears until long after the screaming and pounding hooves had ceased. Too scared to move I waited until nightfall before walking back to a blood soaked and burnt earth where my home had once been.

I hadn’t noticed I was walking as the horrors around me had numbed my body and mind. The land was silent and still as though shocked and sadden as was I. Whimpering coming from the far side of the camp leads me gradually in that direction. To my utmost joy I found my grand-daughter but my grief had sprung into my heart as I saw she is huddled underneath my own daughter’s body. Taking her up into my arms, other sounds around me come to my ears as one by one the women and children uncovered themselves and crawled out of their hiding places.

This past will never leave me and I wait for my time to come when I will be with the spirits and my husband, who had fought so bravely on that fateful day against an enemy so cowardly and strong. The firewood is weighing heavily now as I enter the camp and I smile at the last of the Lumbee tribe survivors.

(Over 15 years after my regression session, my cousin found out that we did have a great, great grandfather married to a squaw of the Lumbee tribe.) Lumbee

Manor House

Manor

My feet hit the icy floor, as I swing them over the bed’s edge, the cold chills my body very quickly even though I try to dress as fast as I can. Mother is already gone from the little attic room we call home. Tying my long hair into a bun, I walk quietly and swiftly down the long back stair case. The warmth and noise hits me as I enter the kitchen, cook’s voice shouting orders, the pan’s being filled with water, eggs being boiled and bread being cut. Cook is a hard task master so I run straight to the scullery cupboard to collect my brush and bucket. Quiet as a mouse I walk into the great rooms upstairs and start cleaning out the fire grates, laying out new kindling and on to the next one. I must be careful to be swift and unnoticed by the Lord and Lady, their graciousness to let my Mother stay after the disgrace of my coming; it must never be forgotten or taken for granted.  Being our Lady’s favorite hand maiden had made all the difference to my Mother staying or being thrown out, once her pregnancy was discovered.  I was put to work as soon as I could be taught to polish the silver ware, sitting at the servants table hour after hour. Our precious day off once a month was time for Mother to show me the outside world and let me play in the huge grounds and gardens.

Mother didn’t tell me about my Father until very recently, when I think it was more of a warning away from men. I had noticed a young gardener the month before whilst walking through the walled garden and his eyes seemed to penetrate my very being. I hadn’t noticed that Mother was still walking ahead and that I was rooted to the spot, staring back into those wonderful eyes. Her voice made me jump and look toward the sound. Catching up to her as she strode purposely on she started to tell me her story. She too had been entranced by a young gardener in this very walled garden and quickly became obsessed with him. Every month they would meet in secret and he told her of faraway places and his adventures. Swearing his love for her and the promise of marriage she succumbed to his wiles. Another month and he was gone without a word and quickly she realized her condition. Lady Havalore did send men to find the rogue but he was long gone and no one knew of a young man called Ted Franks, it probably wasn’t his real name anyway. Mother continued her duties as long as was possible and after my birth did as many of her duties as she could between nursing and comforting me. Luckily I was a quiet contented baby and my little crib was set in the scullery during the day for  warmth.  Looking at the grand ornate gates I can see the letters of the manor’s name but cannot read them; reading and writing are for our betters not the likes of us.

(With careful research through Who’s Who, I managed to find this manor house in Kent, England.)

Wooden farm shack

shouse1

The smell of the cattle, the steam from their bodies mingles with the morning air. Waking early, I am excited knowing father is taking me to the town today. The trip will take most of the day on the cart, which is filled with grain, vegetables and trailing two cattle, all of which father will sell for cloth and other supplies. Leaving Mother, my brothers and sisters for more than a day is such a treat. There are advantages to being the oldest but I have a feeling father has an ulterior motive in taking me. Last autumn he had encouraged me to visit Bayard in his father’s butcher shop. A match between us would be a favorable match for our farm and their butcher shop. I really enjoy the ride into town with so much of my life spent around the farm, escaping to see the different views and smells is wonderful as well as having no chores to do. Father maneuvers the cart through the dirt streets and to the rear of the butchers shop. I can feel myself become hot and nervous, Bayard is so handsome and I hope my appearance is pleasing. Just as I think about him there he is at the door in a blood splattered apron greeting us with a wave and a smile. Lowering my head I glimpse Bayard come to the wagon to help father lead the cattle to the little shack at the rear of the shop, he will slaughter them later I’m sure. Watching him walk away from me, his muscular body makes me flush. “Wilda, move yourself.” Father’s shout makes me jump, so grabbing a sack of sawdust I enter the shop’s rear store and greet Bayard’s father with a quick nod and place the sack upon the floor. The air is full of the smell of meat and blood mingle with the sawdust scattered there. I have become accustomed to the smell over time. At first it clawed at the back of my throat and stayed within my nostrils, now it is a reminder of Bayard and I have come to love it. Sitting quietly while my father talks, I watch Bayard through the veil of my eyelashes imagining him oblivious to my staring. However as our father’s leave the store, he turns smiling and asks if I would like a drink, keeping my head lowered I gently nod.

(With no records kept I was unable to find where this life was lived)

Twesome Loop 002

My novel, The Twesome Loop has a reincarnation theme weaved between southern England and the Italian slopes outside Rome. The narrative follows four main characters who find their souls mates in another lifetime.

Do you believe?

Have you had experiences you can relate?

 

10 Interesting Cases Of Supposed Reincarnation – Reblog…


10 Interesting Cases Of Supposed Reincarnation – I was unable to reblog this article so just copied – please visit the original post. http://listverse.com/2013/10/21/10-interesting-cases-of-supposed-reincarnation/
Even though reincarnation stories can never really be proven true, some of them have elements that are genuinely mind-boggling, especially when the stories come from children too young to have much knowledge of the world.

10 Edward Austrian

WWII

Patricia Austrian’s four-year-old son Edward had a phobia of drizzly, grey days. Then he developed a problem with his throat and started to complain of severe pain. Whenever he had a sore throat, he said that his “shot was hurting.” Edward told his mother very detailed stories about his previous life in the trenches in what was apparently World War I. He told her that he had been shot in the throat and killed.

At first doctors could not find a cause for his sore throat and removed his tonsils as a precautionary measure. A cyst developed in his throat and doctors did not know how to treat it. As soon as Edward was prompted to tell his parents and others more about his previous life and talk about how he was killed, the cyst disappeared. Edward’s doctors never found out why the cyst had vanished.

9 The Dutch Clock

Clock

Bruce Whittier had reoccurring dreams of being a Jewish man hiding in a house with his family. His name had been Stefan Horowitz, a Dutch Jew who was discovered in his hiding place along with his family and taken to Auschwitz, where he died. During and after the dreams, he felt panicked and restless. He began to record his dreams, and one night he dreamed about a clock, which he was able to draw in great detail upon waking.

Whittier dreamed about the location of the clock in an antiques shop and went to look. The clock was visible in the shop window and looked exactly like the one in his dreams. Whittier asked the dealer where it had come from. It transpired that the dealer had bought the clock from among the property of a retired German major in The Netherlands. This convinced Whittier that he really had led a past life.

NB ***On a side note I actually had an experience with a clock – I will relay at a later date! Mandy

8 John Raphael And The Tower Tree

Scottish

Peter Hume, a bingo caller from Birmingham, England, started having a very specific dreams about life on guard duty at the Scottish border in 1646. He was a foot soldier of Cromwell’s army and his name was John Raphael. When put under hypnosis, Hume remembered more details and locations. He started to visit places he remembered with his brother and even found small items that appeared to have come from the era in which he had lived, such as horse spurs.

With the help of a village historian in Culmstock, South England, he even managed to positively identify details about a church that he had known—he was able to tell her that the church used to have a tower with a yew tree growing from it. This was not a published fact, and it startled her that Hume knew it—the church tower had been taken down in 1676. In local registers, John Raphael was discovered to have been married in the church. A civil war historian, Ronald Hutton, investigated the case and asked Hume very era-specific questions while under hypnosis. Hutton was not satisfied that Hume was totally in tune with the era of his past life, as he could not answer all his questions in a satisfactory way.

7 Who’s Your Grandad?

Old and young

Gus Taylor was 18 months old when he started to say that he was his own grandfather. Young children can be confused about their own identity and those of their family members, but this was different. His grandfather had died a year before Gus was born and the boy totally believed they were the same person. When shown some family photographs, Gus identified “Grandpa Augie” when he was four years old.

There was a family secret that nobody had ever spoken about in front of or around Gus—Augie’s sister had been murdered and dumped in the San Francisco Bay. The family were perplexed when the four-year-old child started to talk about his dead sister. According to Gus, God gave him a ticket after he died. With this ticket he was able to travel through a hole, after which he came back to life as Gus.

6 The Case Of Imad Elawar

Spiral

Five-year-old Imad Elawar from Lebanon started talking about his life in a nearby village. The first two words he spoke as a child were the names “Jamileh” and “Mahmoud,” and at the age of two he stopped stranger outside and told him they had been neighbors. The child and his parents were investigated by Dr Ian Stevenson. Imad made over 55 different claims about his previous life.

The family visited the village that the boy had been spoken of, together with Stevenson, and found the house where he claimed he had lived. Imad and his family were able to positively identify thirteen facts and memories that were confirmed as being accurate. Imad recognized his previous uncle, Mahmoud, and his mistress from a former life, Jamileh, from photographs. He was able to remember where he had kept his gun, a fact verified by others, and was able to have a chat with a stranger about their experiences during their army days. In total, 51 out of 57 of the experiences and places mentioned by Imad were verified during the visit.

5 The Navy Fighter Pilot

Fighter plan

At a very young age, James Leininger started to remember his life as a navy fighter pilot. Airplanes were the only toys he would play with, and after a time his plane obsession turned into a nightmare. He lost a lot of sleep and kept talking about flying planes, about the weapons, and the scary accident with his plane. James, who only watched kids’ programs on TV, showed his mother what a fighter plane drop tank was, and was able to check a plane over as a pilot would during a pre-flight check when he was justthree years old.

The child was able to tell his father that he used to take off from a boat called the Natoma and knew the name of a co-pilot, Jack Larson. The Natoma was indeed a Pacific ship and Larson was still alive. After James told his father that he had been killed in his plane at Iwo Jima, his father discovered a pilot called James M. Huston Jr. who had died there. This was especially strange, as James had started to sign his drawings “James 3.” James’ family contacted Huston’s sister, and she sent James a bust and a model airplane that had been returned to her by the navy after her brother’s death.

4 Ruth Simmons

Shamrocks

One of the best-known reincarnation stories is that of Ruth Simmons. In 1952, she underwent a series of hypnosis sessions during which her therapist, Morey Bernstein, regressed her back to her birth. She suddenly started to speak with a heavy Irish accent and remembered many specific details from her life as Bridey Murphy, who had lived in Belfast, Ireland in the 19th century. Not many of the things she mentioned could be verified. However, she recalled two people from whom she used to buy her food—a Mr. John Carrigan and a Mr. Farr. The town directory for 1865–66 lists the two individuals as grocers. The story is shown in a film from 1956 called The Search for Bridey Murphy.

3 The Barra Boy

Black and white dog

Cameron Macauley was born in Glasgow, Scotland. Since the age of two he told his mother he was from an island called Barra, off the west coast of Scotland. He talked about a white house and a beach on which planes landed. He had a black-and-white dog and his dad’s name was Shane Robertson—he was killed by a car. He drew the white house by the beach and complained of missing his other mother. As the child got more and more upset about missing Barra, his mother took him on a visit the the island, which was an hour-long flight away. The plane landed on the beach.

The family found a white house owned by the Robertsons, and the black-and-white dog was in one of their family photographs, along with a car that Cameron had remembered. However, nobody recalled Shane. Cameron knew his way around the white house and was able to point out all its peculiarities.

As he grew older, Cameron slowly lost his memories, but he is still convinced that death is not the end. Like Gus Taylor, he stated that he ended up in his mother’s tummy after he fell through a hole. The story was picked up by British television, making the Barra case one of the best-documented reincarnation stories.

2 Parmod Sharma

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Parmod Sharma was born in India in 1944. When he reached the age of two, he told his mother that his wife in Moradabad could cook for him, so she did not have to. Morabad was 145 kilometers (90 mi) away from his birthplace, Bisauli. Between the ages of three and four, Parmod described a business venture called “Mohan Brothers,” where he had worked with family members, selling cookies and water. He built miniature shops and served his family mud cookies and water. He had been a well-off tradesman and complained about the financially less rosy situation of his current family. He advised his parents against eating curd, and would not touch it himself. He said that he had become very ill after eating it in his old life. Parmod hated being submerged in a bath and told his parents that he had died in a bath tub.

Parmod’s parents promised to take him to Moradabad once he had learned to read. It turned out that there was a family by the name of Mehra that had run a soda and cookie shop called “Mohan Brothers.” Manager Parmanand Mehra had died in 1943 after gorging on curd and suffering from a gastrointestinal illness and peritonitis, from which he had eventually died. Parmanand had tried medicinal baths as a cure and had been given a bath very shortly before his death.

1 Steve Jobs

Apple

A software engineer called Tony Tseung, an employee of Apple, sent an email to a Buddhist group in Thailand, asking if they could tell him what had happened to Apple founder Steve Jobs after he died. The answer was that Jobs is now a celestial philosopher, in a glass palace that hovers over the Apple headquarters in Cupertino, California.

In Malaysia, a group of Jobs’ admirers performed a religious ceremony after his funeral. During the ceremony, the group each took a bite from an apple before throwing it into the sea to speed up the process of reincarnation. Phra Chaibul Dhammajayo, one of the abbots at the Dhammakaya Temple, is convinced that Jobs has already been reborn. He is now a divine presence with a specific interest in science and art. Followers have received this information through a special message that was broadcast worldwide. Apparently, more specific details will be communicated when Jobs feels the need to pass on any knowledge or messages.

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An invitation -50 over 50 Bloggers…


over 50 bloggers wanted

Bloggers age 50 and older wanted

Hello Followers,

I would like to invite you to join in with this ’50 over 50′ blog project. It sounds like fun and will connect us with even more people in the blogging world.

Click on the link and sign up.

Expand your horizons, connect and support.

 

Lost Words of Medical Terminology (Part Three)…


k5888280

There are some rather strange medical conditions in this list!

pilimiction n 1847 -1874
passing of hair-like bodies in the urine
His doctor was particularly concerned about his pilimiction, for obvious reasons.

siagonology n 1895 -1895
study of jaw-bones
Reliance on siagonology alone led to the proliferation of the Piltdown Man hoax.

sireniform adj 1849 -1852
having the lower legs abnormally joined into a single limb
When they learned that their child had a sireniform deformity, they were devastated.

tussicate v 1598 -1890
to cough
He tussicated throughout the opera, annoying nearby audience members.

visotactile adj 1652 -1652
involving both touch and vision
The deaf man learned to make better use of visotactile input in his daily life.

My sentence: As his patient tussicated, the doctor siagonogy for irregular movement. Continuing with visotactile examination he was concerned at his patients admission of pilimiction. To ease his patients worry, the doctor related his investigations into sireniform.

Did you write a sentence with the words?

Doctor_Patient

For more lost words take a look at – http://phrontistery.info/clw4.html

That Feeling Of Being In Limbo…A Writing Malaise


directionless

We all feel directionless from time to time, whether it is work related boredom, a relationship stagnating or our writing process requires refreshing. We suffer the emotion and frustration in different ways depending on its source.

As for a writing malaise there are tools to get us back on track. We can employ the multitude of writing prompts available via the internet, whether they are pictures, sentences or random words to spark our imagination. There are word games we can purchase as well. And of course there are the numerous ‘filed’ ideas on our computer or notebooks that can be read through and reworked. Or we can explore the outside world for inspiration. Even the experience of quietly sitting in a cafe, library or other public place and people watching can spark a new idea or story.

Another ‘trick’ is to rewrite or create a story but change your usual genre or even the gender of the main character. A different perspective harnesses our creativity and ensures enthusiasm in writing again.

My current malaise is more overload than a lack of inspiration. With freelance clients, reviewing a friends new novel and a manuscript progressing tantalizingly slowly on top of ‘normal’ life, work, chores, family etc. etc. I feel discouraged coupled with anxiousness at what needs to be done and the apathy I am feeling. I need a break from the ‘norm’ to refresh and renew.

What methods have you used to ‘refresh’ your Muse?

Awake the God Thoth again!

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Happy Authors Day…


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Why not share your books and/or blog. Our community has grown and we can celebrate our achievements and our passion for the written word.

Please remember I still have spots left for writer or author interviews until 31st December 2015. Message me if you are interested.

Yesterday I read from my children’s picture book, Rumble’s First Scare to a wonderful crowd at my local bookstore. With author readings, colouring pages and candy, it was a great afternoon.

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Let’s connect and make Author’s Day fun.

More traffic…thank you all.


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Your blog, Mandy Eve Barnett’s Official Blog, appears to be getting more traffic than usual! 72 hourly views – 2 hourly views on average
A spike in your stats.
Wow – thank you all for your continued support. It is greatly appreciated.
Again if you would like to participate in my writers/author interviews this year please contact me.
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