First thank you for all your support while I looked at my writing or lack there of and fell into the pit of despair......Several things occurred to me. One is how wonderful the are people who visit my blog and two what a trememdous amount of knowledge there is out there in blog land.
A light bulb moment has just literally occured. I am enjoying a lazy Saturday morning thinking that well if I can't write I can bl..dly well read. So I have been stretched out on the sofa with Pillow Talk by Freya North. This is the book that won the Romantic Novel of the Year and I must say the pages are just turning.
Anyway in the back of my mind was the comment from Julie Cohen regarding the fact that my writing is too pat. here is her comment (hope you don't mind Julie):
"I think it's almost impossible to tell if your own ideas are "too pat". I write things that I think are obvious all the time and someone will always say she didn't see it coming (though perhaps they are just being nice). Of course the ideas are obvious to you, you thought them up yourself. The key is to write them in such a way that only you could have done it. "
I love Julie's books. Her slant on life is fresh and lively. Her voice is unique. So you are wondering where I am going with is this I can tell. Well, I have been struggling with A Cornish House and the fact that Serena, the 15 year old, dominates the story even though page for page there is less of her. I have spent hours thinking of how to balance the story and what can to do to Madde to make her story as compelling. Then reading Freya's book I realize that I have starved Madde of her voice. I have told her story although in her viewpoint in dialogue and action but none of it really in her head and with her thoughts. I know this is a funny thing to say but I felt freedom to run riot in Serena's head which is sucessful but I held back from Madde's because I was incorrectly thinking that being in Madde's head was telling and showing and make for bad writing if that makes any sense.
Suddenlty thinking about this I think this may be what holds August Rock back from being the book it could be .......but I am not going to rewrite that one now. However having decided this morning that I was going to give myself a week to work on the new book I know now I am going to go back into Madde's head from the start and let her voice be heard!!!
Here's a great link if you haven't seen it before - it gives one hope.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Friday Despair no Musing and Links
What a week this has been in my head. I have run around in circles. You know that feeling of not making any progress and not sure if you want to either. I am at a loss with my writing at the moment as with quite a few other things in my life. If it weren't for the Dickens Challenge I could say that I wasn't doing any writing at all. I have been thinking about A Cornish House, whose revisions, have ground to a halt but all the solutions I have thought up seem to pat. I lack orginality. I am boring and too easy to figure out. Unfortunately I think that is also my personality these days. What you see is what you get - boring. So I am filled with self doubt. Should I continue on this writing lark? Should I pack it in? Should I just pack in the hope of ever writing anything a publisher will want? To be honest I don't think I could stop writing but maybe I should just do it for myself.
These are just some of the thoughts floating is wreched circular paterns in a deterioating brain. I am also wondering if I should just throw myself into writing the book that is in my head before I lose it. The only deadline I have facing is the Romantic Novelists' New Writers Scheme and that will be ACH. I hadd planned to get that in early but if I am just going to piddle my time away.............
Last night I had a great treat. I forgot to ask her permission to say who but a best novelist came to dinner last night. She is lovely and doesn't look her years. DH said there was no way she was as old as she said she was. She was filled with encouraging words and I guess it helps to hear the great say that they too are still learning and still have doubts. Before falling asleep last night I was going to send August Rock off to who she said was a wonderful editor whom I met at the RNA lunch but then the earthworms of doubt had been busy all night and it no longer seems such a good idea!
I just finished Laying the Ghost by Judy Astley yesterday. It had such a satisfying ending I was smiling and humming for the rest of the day. What was also interesting from my current quandry is how she balanced the mother/daughter story lines in the book................ maybe I'll just go slash my wrists now.
But before I do that some good links....... Over on A Newbie's Guide to Publishing JA Konrath gives some sound advice for attracting visitors to your blog. The BBC Scotland Write Here Right Now has been brilliant this month even if I haven't been following too closely. Yesterday's email was particularlly spot on. I checked out the website here and they haven't put it up yet so I will cut and paste some of it for the impatient! So Senior commisioning editor at Headline, Vicki Mellor says........
"....
As an editor who reads many submitted manuscripts, there are several key elements that I consider when choosing a book to publish.
...
The author should have thought through the plot from every conceivable angle. Most editors can spot a gap in the narrative very quickly...
The writing should be engaging and detailed, and the plot should be original – the book needs a hook. Whether that takes the form of a major new character, an unusual setting or, indeed, historical context, it needs to stand out from the rest of the market.
The opening scene is essential. It gives the editor their first impression of the author’s writing and only the strongest scene will make an editor read the manuscript beyond it.
There are a huge amount of talented authors writing today – be strong and be prepared to face some rejection because the old adage is true. If you are turned down by one editor, then perhaps you just haven’t found the right one for you yet. "
It's worth reading the whole newsletter when they post it.
Finally I will leave you with you a few fun photos of our Wadi Bashing in the UAE last Saturday.
These are just some of the thoughts floating is wreched circular paterns in a deterioating brain. I am also wondering if I should just throw myself into writing the book that is in my head before I lose it. The only deadline I have facing is the Romantic Novelists' New Writers Scheme and that will be ACH. I hadd planned to get that in early but if I am just going to piddle my time away.............
Last night I had a great treat. I forgot to ask her permission to say who but a best novelist came to dinner last night. She is lovely and doesn't look her years. DH said there was no way she was as old as she said she was. She was filled with encouraging words and I guess it helps to hear the great say that they too are still learning and still have doubts. Before falling asleep last night I was going to send August Rock off to who she said was a wonderful editor whom I met at the RNA lunch but then the earthworms of doubt had been busy all night and it no longer seems such a good idea!
I just finished Laying the Ghost by Judy Astley yesterday. It had such a satisfying ending I was smiling and humming for the rest of the day. What was also interesting from my current quandry is how she balanced the mother/daughter story lines in the book................ maybe I'll just go slash my wrists now.
But before I do that some good links....... Over on A Newbie's Guide to Publishing JA Konrath gives some sound advice for attracting visitors to your blog. The BBC Scotland Write Here Right Now has been brilliant this month even if I haven't been following too closely. Yesterday's email was particularlly spot on. I checked out the website here and they haven't put it up yet so I will cut and paste some of it for the impatient! So Senior commisioning editor at Headline, Vicki Mellor says........
"....
As an editor who reads many submitted manuscripts, there are several key elements that I consider when choosing a book to publish.
...
The author should have thought through the plot from every conceivable angle. Most editors can spot a gap in the narrative very quickly...
The writing should be engaging and detailed, and the plot should be original – the book needs a hook. Whether that takes the form of a major new character, an unusual setting or, indeed, historical context, it needs to stand out from the rest of the market.
The opening scene is essential. It gives the editor their first impression of the author’s writing and only the strongest scene will make an editor read the manuscript beyond it.
There are a huge amount of talented authors writing today – be strong and be prepared to face some rejection because the old adage is true. If you are turned down by one editor, then perhaps you just haven’t found the right one for you yet. "
It's worth reading the whole newsletter when they post it.
Finally I will leave you with you a few fun photos of our Wadi Bashing in the UAE last Saturday.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Dickens Challenge and Links
As I wrote this week's chapter for the Dickens Challenge I realized that I have been writing scenes and not chapters as such. I think this was deliberate on my part as I am posting them on my blog I didn't want them to be too long and bore my readers or ruin their eyes! I also tend to write short chapters but not generally as short as the ones in Explosive Dreams. I have to say that on one hand I am loving writing this because I feel so free to write what ever comes into my head and yet absolutely terrified at just putting my writing out there. (I know I post frequently so my writing is out there but my blog is more like the workings of my brain and not the polished prose I hope comes out at the other end of the writing process).
My rewrite has ground to halt with half terms, Oman and DH still being under foot. I am having great trouble finding a routine. Hopefully I can claw this back but sil is arriving on the 6th so it could all be just a dream.
Yet again Steve Malley has put together a useful post this time on size.....of manuscript that is and some useful tips for making yours fit the genre you are aiming for. Over on Susan Hill's Creative Writing Course here she gives some sound advice for writing dialogue.
My rewrite has ground to halt with half terms, Oman and DH still being under foot. I am having great trouble finding a routine. Hopefully I can claw this back but sil is arriving on the 6th so it could all be just a dream.
Yet again Steve Malley has put together a useful post this time on size.....of manuscript that is and some useful tips for making yours fit the genre you are aiming for. Over on Susan Hill's Creative Writing Course here she gives some sound advice for writing dialogue.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Dickens Challenge - Explosive Dreams Chapter Four
Chapter Four
It was two in the morning and the airport was at fever pitch. My stomach toppled over as I scanned the crowds. The humid air closed my throat. I wanted to wipe the damp flannel feel away but there was no escape.
What was I going to say to Tom? His blond head almost glowed in the sea of dark ones. I wasn’t ready for this. His big smiled welcomed me. Had I just imagined the fight we had before I left? I could see no signs of the scares I knew I had inflicted before I left. Surely he should still have wounds. I cut him with words I knew I could never take back.
I pushed through the human masses around me to find myself in his arms. The scent of soap and spice greeted me as he pulled me tight. Even if I had wanted to pull back I couldn’t. His arms had me locked.
“Hello beautiful.”
His voice sent a shiver down my spine as his breath tickled just behind my ear. I couldn’t be reacting physically to a man I had told I hated could I?
“Hi.” I tried to pull back so I could see his eyes. Were they light or dark blue? Was he calm or agitated? Without seeing them I wouldn’t know. He had a poker face to most people but I could read his eyes.
“Let’s grab a taxi.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and steered me towards the queue.
“You didn’t drive?” He loved his Porsche why didn’t he take it?
“No, one of the bridges is closed so I thought this would be easier.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“How was Julia?”
“Great.”
“Good. You had a fun few days then?”
“Yes.” I pinched myself. We were talking like our old selves as if things hadn’t been said but they had and I couldn’t forget them. Could he? I doubted it.
“Did you see much of Harry?”
“No, he was working all hours as usual.”
“How were the kids?” He led me forward.
“Great. Asking after Oliver. How is he?”
“Good but missing you like me, I guess.”
“Look, Tom, your acting as if things are okay.” I pulled away from him and bumped in an older Indian woman in the queue. I mumbled my apologies as she scowled at me.
“They are okay.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I swung round to face him.
“No.” He studied the crowd avoiding my eyes.
“What about what we said before I left.”
“Let’s just forget that. We were both too angry. Heat of the moment and all.”
“I can’t forget. How can you?”
“I can forget because I want to.” He turned towards me. His eyes were deep blue. “Look this isn’t the place to talk about this.”
I nodded. He had a point there. People were watching us closely including the large Russian man. He was on his phone again with his free hand flying wildly. The action stuck me as more Italian than Russian.
“Who are you looking at?” Tom pushed me into the waiting taxi as we reached the front of the line.
“Oh, that large man was on the flight with me. He was in the loo with a woman during the worst turbulence I have ever experienced."
“He was in the loo with a woman?” Tom’s eyebrow rose.
“Yeah, I know but I saw them come out together.”
“He’s big enough to fill the space on his own. Was she was tiny?”
“Yes.” I could see the workings going on in his head. Would it lead him to disgust or lust? I was repulsed by the thought but I didn’t need him to go all horny on me. I should have kept my mouth shut but I wasn’t good at that.
“Sounds like an interesting flight.”
“What I heard made it more so.”
“Oh, what was that?”
The taxi driver’s eyes pleaded with me to reveal all and realized that I didn’t want to share this with him. I knew his mind was working on the two in the loo.
“I’ll tell you later.” Tom threw me a look but I cast my eyes toward the front and he nodded. I couldn’t help but see how bloody handsome Tom was. Some of the boyish charm I had fallen for all those years ago still appeared when he smiled but there were now lines around his eyes and a few grey hair had started to dilute the blond.
“What are all the flags up for?” I asked.
“The president is visiting.”
“Isn’t he here already?”
“Not the UAE one but the US one.” Tom cocked his head at me. I was always getting things wrong according to him.
“He’s visiting here?”
“Yes, where have you been?”
“Jakarta. No mention of it there but then I didn’t watch much telly while I was there.”
“No you where shopping with Julia no doubt.”
“Actually no, I was asking about divorce.” Once the words were out of my mouth I bit my tongue. Why had I said that? I know it was the truth but I didn’t need to say it. It was his jab about the shopping. I looked at Tom’s face and he aged in front of me. Here he was pretending that nothing had happened and I couldn’t leave things alone. What the hell was wrong with me?
It was two in the morning and the airport was at fever pitch. My stomach toppled over as I scanned the crowds. The humid air closed my throat. I wanted to wipe the damp flannel feel away but there was no escape.
What was I going to say to Tom? His blond head almost glowed in the sea of dark ones. I wasn’t ready for this. His big smiled welcomed me. Had I just imagined the fight we had before I left? I could see no signs of the scares I knew I had inflicted before I left. Surely he should still have wounds. I cut him with words I knew I could never take back.
I pushed through the human masses around me to find myself in his arms. The scent of soap and spice greeted me as he pulled me tight. Even if I had wanted to pull back I couldn’t. His arms had me locked.
“Hello beautiful.”
His voice sent a shiver down my spine as his breath tickled just behind my ear. I couldn’t be reacting physically to a man I had told I hated could I?
“Hi.” I tried to pull back so I could see his eyes. Were they light or dark blue? Was he calm or agitated? Without seeing them I wouldn’t know. He had a poker face to most people but I could read his eyes.
“Let’s grab a taxi.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and steered me towards the queue.
“You didn’t drive?” He loved his Porsche why didn’t he take it?
“No, one of the bridges is closed so I thought this would be easier.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“How was Julia?”
“Great.”
“Good. You had a fun few days then?”
“Yes.” I pinched myself. We were talking like our old selves as if things hadn’t been said but they had and I couldn’t forget them. Could he? I doubted it.
“Did you see much of Harry?”
“No, he was working all hours as usual.”
“How were the kids?” He led me forward.
“Great. Asking after Oliver. How is he?”
“Good but missing you like me, I guess.”
“Look, Tom, your acting as if things are okay.” I pulled away from him and bumped in an older Indian woman in the queue. I mumbled my apologies as she scowled at me.
“They are okay.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I swung round to face him.
“No.” He studied the crowd avoiding my eyes.
“What about what we said before I left.”
“Let’s just forget that. We were both too angry. Heat of the moment and all.”
“I can’t forget. How can you?”
“I can forget because I want to.” He turned towards me. His eyes were deep blue. “Look this isn’t the place to talk about this.”
I nodded. He had a point there. People were watching us closely including the large Russian man. He was on his phone again with his free hand flying wildly. The action stuck me as more Italian than Russian.
“Who are you looking at?” Tom pushed me into the waiting taxi as we reached the front of the line.
“Oh, that large man was on the flight with me. He was in the loo with a woman during the worst turbulence I have ever experienced."
“He was in the loo with a woman?” Tom’s eyebrow rose.
“Yeah, I know but I saw them come out together.”
“He’s big enough to fill the space on his own. Was she was tiny?”
“Yes.” I could see the workings going on in his head. Would it lead him to disgust or lust? I was repulsed by the thought but I didn’t need him to go all horny on me. I should have kept my mouth shut but I wasn’t good at that.
“Sounds like an interesting flight.”
“What I heard made it more so.”
“Oh, what was that?”
The taxi driver’s eyes pleaded with me to reveal all and realized that I didn’t want to share this with him. I knew his mind was working on the two in the loo.
“I’ll tell you later.” Tom threw me a look but I cast my eyes toward the front and he nodded. I couldn’t help but see how bloody handsome Tom was. Some of the boyish charm I had fallen for all those years ago still appeared when he smiled but there were now lines around his eyes and a few grey hair had started to dilute the blond.
“What are all the flags up for?” I asked.
“The president is visiting.”
“Isn’t he here already?”
“Not the UAE one but the US one.” Tom cocked his head at me. I was always getting things wrong according to him.
“He’s visiting here?”
“Yes, where have you been?”
“Jakarta. No mention of it there but then I didn’t watch much telly while I was there.”
“No you where shopping with Julia no doubt.”
“Actually no, I was asking about divorce.” Once the words were out of my mouth I bit my tongue. Why had I said that? I know it was the truth but I didn’t need to say it. It was his jab about the shopping. I looked at Tom’s face and he aged in front of me. Here he was pretending that nothing had happened and I couldn’t leave things alone. What the hell was wrong with me?
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Oman Part 3
After a lazy lunch under a tree we set off for the other end of the Sayq Plateau to Ar Rus where we were greated by a flock of young boys welcoming us in brilliant English. They were keen to be photograghed and to show us the beauty of their village. They were upset when we set off to the explore further as the sun would soon be setting and we didin't want to drive around in the dark!
After Ar Rus we stopped in two villages whose names I can't remember but by the time we reached the last one which was hung onto the edge of cliff the light was gone and the moon was rising over the mountains.
When we made the trip to Venice back in June I became obcessed by the laundry lines well in the mountains it was the trees with the tortured knarly trucks that kept drawing my camera......
The following morning we were feeling a little jaded after celebrating our glorious day out with a bit too much wine but nothing the less we opted to take the route through the mountains towards Rustaq that would be beyond what we could have imagined.
We left the main road a Tanuf and took the steep switchbacks up the mountains and cut across to the route we wanted. The road was tarmaced which deflated us as we steadily climbed to about 2600 metres. We stopped on the top to enjoy the view before heading of our way. The tarmaced road ended and we found ourselves of gravel path hugging the side of the mountain as we wound our way down. Not only we DH's hand sweaty mine were as I tried not to look at the 1000 plus metre drop just a few feet away! Unfortunately I didn't take any photos at the top as my hand shake would have ruined it.
The first photo here is one of DS1's.
So we slowly wound our way down to work back up and over again before coming into the wadi proper. Another one of DS1's photos shows a pool in an oasis.
The road flattened out through the wadi with small villages scatted along the edges. Dates palms relieved the hardness of the rock and the vidid colours of the grasses brought the wadi to life.
Soon it was all behind us and we drove back across from Rustaq toward Ibri and then on to Al Ain and back to Dubai. As we skirted the Empty Quarter a Shamal began and the road was covered in sand that swirled like steam rising from a lake. First it would dash from the left in sinuous curves then come from the right sometimes obscuring the tarmac completely. It was so mesmurizing that I fell asleep - thankfully I wasn't driving at that point!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Exploring Oman Continued
From the comments yesterday I gather people are under the expectation that this part of the world is about shopping, bling and beaches. Well it is but if you scratch the surface a bit it is much much more but of course it all depends on what you seek. This week we wanted the raw untouched Arabia and the interior of Oman provides that in bundles.
As you take the road from Al Ain in the Emirates down into Oman the road skirts the Empty Quarter and sand dunes roll up to the road. Only the strangely elegent wirey tress break up the smooth curves. On the other side of the road the spine of Hajar mountains guide you further into this fantasic scenery.
Yesterday I brought you as far a glimpse of the the village above Wadi Bani Habib. On the climb down you heard the drone of bees and the strange contrast of the cherry blossom with the large boulders on the wadi bed. Looking up you see these wonderful slightly crumbling structures. There missing roofs and walls creating beautiful cutouts with the too blue sky. However it was the surprise of the beautifully decorated interiors that take your breath away.
As you take the road from Al Ain in the Emirates down into Oman the road skirts the Empty Quarter and sand dunes roll up to the road. Only the strangely elegent wirey tress break up the smooth curves. On the other side of the road the spine of Hajar mountains guide you further into this fantasic scenery.
Yesterday I brought you as far a glimpse of the the village above Wadi Bani Habib. On the climb down you heard the drone of bees and the strange contrast of the cherry blossom with the large boulders on the wadi bed. Looking up you see these wonderful slightly crumbling structures. There missing roofs and walls creating beautiful cutouts with the too blue sky. However it was the surprise of the beautifully decorated interiors that take your breath away.
We left the village reluctantly even after the thigh breaking climb back to the car. From there we drove across the plateau tempted by glimpses of villages in the w
adi but only turned off the road when we caught a glimpse of this.
Road trips with the Fenwicks entail a great deal of photography - that includes the kids and forces our guests in the same. Here is the artist Paul Wadsworthfilming the gorge with DH in the distance.
Not far from here we stopped for lunch and the Paul ran an inpromtu painting class with the kids over looking this view.
Did I mention the fossil hunting? Well DH is a geologist by degree so he quickly spotted and pointed out the fossil in the roacks we were blithely trecking over. Its hard to look down when you have such stunning scenery but we did and were rewarded with finding sea shell fossils in the rocks below are feet.
Tommorw I will blog about remote village of Ar Rus and its friendly kids and our final day driving over the mountains on perilous switchbacks........
Friday, February 22, 2008
Borin' Explorin' - NOT
We escaped to the Hajar Mountains in Oman and I find it difficult to put into words the raw beauty of the place. So I will use dd's words (her's above - borin' explorin') and my photos to give you a feel.
Here is a sand castle (the ruins of the Al Sulaif Fortress town near Ibri which date back to the 11th century)
We also stopped at a village where we met this colourful fellow.
A brief stop in the the fortress town of Bahla and on through Nizwa to reach our hotel, the Jabal Akhdar Hotel, up some 2000 plus metres on the Sayq Plateau. According to dd it has very comfortable beds!
The following morning saw us heading to the abandoned village of Bani Habib. Nothing quite prepares you for the stunning beauty of it and the wadi it sits above. Cherry blossoms were in the bloom and the wildly noisy murmuring of the bees intruding on the silence. (first 2 photos here are ds1's)
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sacha Jafri Grand Hyatt Dubai Exhibition Opening
Tonight was glittering and glamourous ( that was the paintings as well as the people). I felt as if I was in a different world and I was. The opening of the ten year retrospective of Sacha Jafri's work at the Grand Hyatt in Dubai was stunning. The ballroom just managed to hold the the vibrant works and I fell in love. Fortunately for me the painting had already sold as I would have had to mortgage the house but it would have been worth it. (here's a photos of Sacha with the press)
Sacha's works are filled with life and colour. The room pulsed with their energy and all the gorgeous people viewing them. I will be visiting the Majilis Gallery to see them again just to soak in the magic. (Here's one of the beautiful paintings but not 'my' painting alas)
(Here's the DH and I trying to fit in!)
Now tomorrow morning I am whisking away for a few days in the mountains of Oman. We are lucky enough to be bringing another stellar artist with us, Paul Wadsworth. Will report in when we return late on Thursday - no internet is available to the best of my knowledge 7000 feet up a mountain in the interior of Oman. I may be wrong but I will be divorced if I bring the lap top with me!
Dickens Challenge - Explosive Dreams Chapter Three
Chapter Three
A wave of humid air hit me as I stood in the galley waiting for a family of five to manoeuvre through the door. Welcome back to Dubai. Moisture sprang from every pore as I went down the stairs to the waiting bus. Lucky buggers in business were already on their way and I was nearly the last person off the sodding plane.
Squeezed into the back of the bus I realized I was pressed against the ugly bloke who had been in the loo. He reeked of the free cologne they leave in there. I began to imagine the chic woman had been trying to groom him and in the turbulence tipped the whole bottle on him, well that is what he smelled like. Yet there was something more about his scent but I couldn’t place it.
I felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as we rolled through a turn. Desperately I tried to make room between us as his ham fist went for the phone. I felt my stomach turn. They couldn’t have been doing it in the loo. He was just too revolting unless of course she was a certain type of lady and money had changed hands. That just might explain it but somehow I didn’t think the scenario fit.
The press of people was so great I couldn’t see much until the first lot left at the connections gate then I noticed the woman standing in impossibly high heals. The shoes were exquisite, the type I could only think about in my dreams. Only a woman with ankles that thin could wear an ankle strap with those heals and not appear ridiculous. I tore my eyes from her shoes to study her face. Porcelain features of an Asian doll looked past me to rear window of the bus. She didn’t seem to notice my scrutiny. I couldn’t place where in Asia she was from. Her suit could be Channel or maybe a good knock off which it must be otherwise why had she been in economy as I knew business wasn’t full.
The woman created more question than answers as I watched her push open her phone and dial. Those nails bothered me. I longed to get close to see if she bit them. I don’t know why this was so important but I just felt that everything about her was right except those short pink nails.
The phone rang beside me again. The oaf spoke.
“Da.”
He was Russian? Now, that I hadn’t expected. I tried to piece together what he was saying but it was mostly numbers which made no sense. I wondered he was in the economy cabin of the plane. Most of the Russians visiting Dubai were very wealthy.
He hung up with out saying good bye. The bus lurched to a halt at arrivals and I prepared my self for the mad dash through the hall to the e-gate section. Modern technology at it’s finest – the e-gate. No queues just a finger print scan and I would be standing in Duty free stocking up.
My elegant woman had put her phone away and swung her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder. I wondered if she was just a visitor or was she a resident.
The two Indonesian women pushed past me across the hall. I had forgotten about them. They didn’t detour to the visa desk as I expected but joined the long immigration line. I swung past them and my phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Sam.”
“Tom.” My stomach flipped and knotted. What comes next I wondered. What does one say to ones husband at one in the morning when you told him you hated him as you left days before? I didn’t have a script for this one. I thought there would be a text but a call caught me off guard. He shouldn’t be awake he had to be work today. Maybe Oliver was sick?
“You okay?”
“Yes.” I sounded breathless. Was it from the dash or just hearing his voice?
“Good. We have been missing you.”
“Have you really?” I tried to keep sarcasm from my voice. Why didn’t I believe him? If he was calling me at one am then just might be.
“Yes, Sam. Where are you?”
“About to go through e-gate and you?”
“Waiting for you outside.”
“Really?”
“Yes, don’t sound so surprised. I love you.”
“Why?”
“That might be a good question for later but not for now. See you in a few minutes.”
The phone went dead. I fumbled with my card and the gates swished open. I tried to remember which finger was required. Eventually I got it right and was released through the other side. My mind stayed with Tom. Did he really love me or after all these years were we just going through the motions to afraid to let go. Then of course there was Oliver. He was the glue that held us together. Was there anything else?
On autopilot I filled my basket with the requisite bottles of gin and whiskey. The joys of the expats life in Dubai accumulating your liquor supply without the 30% tax on alcohol.
“Excuse me.”
My head shot up as I bumped into the chic woman.
“Sorry.” I was stunned by her flawless English accent. I was presented with a puzzle where the pieces were the wrong shape. The suit was genuine but the bag was not.
“How will you be paying?”
I looked up at the cashier and handed over my Dirhams. I stole a glance at what the woman had in her basket - four bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.
I moved toward the exit and one of the Indonesian women from the plane was watching me. I glanced around me and looked back at her. She quickly averted her gaze. I wondered was it me they were looking at or the elegant woman behind me.
A wave of humid air hit me as I stood in the galley waiting for a family of five to manoeuvre through the door. Welcome back to Dubai. Moisture sprang from every pore as I went down the stairs to the waiting bus. Lucky buggers in business were already on their way and I was nearly the last person off the sodding plane.
Squeezed into the back of the bus I realized I was pressed against the ugly bloke who had been in the loo. He reeked of the free cologne they leave in there. I began to imagine the chic woman had been trying to groom him and in the turbulence tipped the whole bottle on him, well that is what he smelled like. Yet there was something more about his scent but I couldn’t place it.
I felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as we rolled through a turn. Desperately I tried to make room between us as his ham fist went for the phone. I felt my stomach turn. They couldn’t have been doing it in the loo. He was just too revolting unless of course she was a certain type of lady and money had changed hands. That just might explain it but somehow I didn’t think the scenario fit.
The press of people was so great I couldn’t see much until the first lot left at the connections gate then I noticed the woman standing in impossibly high heals. The shoes were exquisite, the type I could only think about in my dreams. Only a woman with ankles that thin could wear an ankle strap with those heals and not appear ridiculous. I tore my eyes from her shoes to study her face. Porcelain features of an Asian doll looked past me to rear window of the bus. She didn’t seem to notice my scrutiny. I couldn’t place where in Asia she was from. Her suit could be Channel or maybe a good knock off which it must be otherwise why had she been in economy as I knew business wasn’t full.
The woman created more question than answers as I watched her push open her phone and dial. Those nails bothered me. I longed to get close to see if she bit them. I don’t know why this was so important but I just felt that everything about her was right except those short pink nails.
The phone rang beside me again. The oaf spoke.
“Da.”
He was Russian? Now, that I hadn’t expected. I tried to piece together what he was saying but it was mostly numbers which made no sense. I wondered he was in the economy cabin of the plane. Most of the Russians visiting Dubai were very wealthy.
He hung up with out saying good bye. The bus lurched to a halt at arrivals and I prepared my self for the mad dash through the hall to the e-gate section. Modern technology at it’s finest – the e-gate. No queues just a finger print scan and I would be standing in Duty free stocking up.
My elegant woman had put her phone away and swung her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder. I wondered if she was just a visitor or was she a resident.
The two Indonesian women pushed past me across the hall. I had forgotten about them. They didn’t detour to the visa desk as I expected but joined the long immigration line. I swung past them and my phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Sam.”
“Tom.” My stomach flipped and knotted. What comes next I wondered. What does one say to ones husband at one in the morning when you told him you hated him as you left days before? I didn’t have a script for this one. I thought there would be a text but a call caught me off guard. He shouldn’t be awake he had to be work today. Maybe Oliver was sick?
“You okay?”
“Yes.” I sounded breathless. Was it from the dash or just hearing his voice?
“Good. We have been missing you.”
“Have you really?” I tried to keep sarcasm from my voice. Why didn’t I believe him? If he was calling me at one am then just might be.
“Yes, Sam. Where are you?”
“About to go through e-gate and you?”
“Waiting for you outside.”
“Really?”
“Yes, don’t sound so surprised. I love you.”
“Why?”
“That might be a good question for later but not for now. See you in a few minutes.”
The phone went dead. I fumbled with my card and the gates swished open. I tried to remember which finger was required. Eventually I got it right and was released through the other side. My mind stayed with Tom. Did he really love me or after all these years were we just going through the motions to afraid to let go. Then of course there was Oliver. He was the glue that held us together. Was there anything else?
On autopilot I filled my basket with the requisite bottles of gin and whiskey. The joys of the expats life in Dubai accumulating your liquor supply without the 30% tax on alcohol.
“Excuse me.”
My head shot up as I bumped into the chic woman.
“Sorry.” I was stunned by her flawless English accent. I was presented with a puzzle where the pieces were the wrong shape. The suit was genuine but the bag was not.
“How will you be paying?”
I looked up at the cashier and handed over my Dirhams. I stole a glance at what the woman had in her basket - four bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue.
I moved toward the exit and one of the Indonesian women from the plane was watching me. I glanced around me and looked back at her. She quickly averted her gaze. I wondered was it me they were looking at or the elegant woman behind me.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Disraeli Avenue
A while ago I read and reviewed Caroline Smailes novel In Search of Adam (here) which was so beautifully written yet it dealt with a heart wrenching story of abuse. Only through the beauty of her words could I read Jude's story. Caroline has now written Disraeli Avnue , a novella, to raise for for the chairty One in Four. Here are Caroline's words:
A Novel Way to Support Victims of Abuse
When In Search of Adam was published I was overwhelmed by the response of readers. I had explored themes of sexual abuse and self-harm and this prompted many people to contact me, to tell me of their own experiences.
I wanted to find a way to give something back to those whose lives have been touched by abuse.
The novella, Disraeli Avenue, has been published as an ebook, asking only for donations to the charity ‘One in Four’ in return. The charity offers unconditional support for people who have experienced sexual abuse and sexual violence and as a small organization, desperately needs funds to continue its work.
Dianne Ludlow from One in Four said “We are delighted that Caroline is doing this for us and as a small charity any funds raised will make a real difference.”
Disraeli Avenue (the street in which In Search of Adam was set) is a collection of short insights into the lives of the people living there.
My publisher, The Friday Project, are in full support. MD and Publishing Director Clare Christian said “This is a fantastic idea which will raise money for a very important cause and give fans of Caroline’s writing much pleasure at the same time.”
The eBook can be downloaded from http://www.thefridayproject.co.uk/disraeliavenue/ or from http://www.carolinesmailes.co.uk/disraeli.html
I know that each and every donation will make a difference and can be made at http://www.justgiving.com/disraeliavenue
So, if you can, please download, donate and even invite your friends to participate. I think I need some word of mouth. So if any of you blog or know of others who may be interested, please forward the link to them.
Many thanks for your support,
Caroline x
Stop by and help if you can.
A Novel Way to Support Victims of Abuse
When In Search of Adam was published I was overwhelmed by the response of readers. I had explored themes of sexual abuse and self-harm and this prompted many people to contact me, to tell me of their own experiences.
I wanted to find a way to give something back to those whose lives have been touched by abuse.
The novella, Disraeli Avenue, has been published as an ebook, asking only for donations to the charity ‘One in Four’ in return. The charity offers unconditional support for people who have experienced sexual abuse and sexual violence and as a small organization, desperately needs funds to continue its work.
Dianne Ludlow from One in Four said “We are delighted that Caroline is doing this for us and as a small charity any funds raised will make a real difference.”
Disraeli Avenue (the street in which In Search of Adam was set) is a collection of short insights into the lives of the people living there.
My publisher, The Friday Project, are in full support. MD and Publishing Director Clare Christian said “This is a fantastic idea which will raise money for a very important cause and give fans of Caroline’s writing much pleasure at the same time.”
The eBook can be downloaded from http://www.thefridayproject.co.uk/disraeliavenue/ or from http://www.carolinesmailes.co.uk/disraeli.html
I know that each and every donation will make a difference and can be made at http://www.justgiving.com/disraeliavenue
So, if you can, please download, donate and even invite your friends to participate. I think I need some word of mouth. So if any of you blog or know of others who may be interested, please forward the link to them.
Many thanks for your support,
Caroline x
Stop by and help if you can.
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