http://www.pennyreeve.com en-gb pennyreeve.com 2012-2-6T00:00:00Z pennyreeve.com http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#111799 Its funny how this new year feels refreshing. Sure I have a brand new diary free from nagging appointments and my calendars pages are crisp and stiff without the end of year sag but the refreshment doesnt come from them. I also know there isnt anything really magical about a new year. Theres no sudden new leaf upon which to crawl. Im still the same me. I still struggle with the balance between who I am and who Christ is in me. Time remains as precious now as it was before the 12 and family wise we may even have more issues than we did three months ago. But somehow I still feel a wonder about the future an expectation a new hope. And were even in February Admittedly knowing me I may feel entirely different tomorrow but for now lets bask in it I think one of the reasons I feel like a little kid in the line for icecream is that I survived. I can look back down the path by which I got here and see that I made it. I didnt sink. I didnt drown. I wasnt swallowed whole. Grace let flowers gro... 2012-2-5 02:45:41 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#109740 I saw Weariness today and she wore boots. Heavy mens boots with thick dusty socks. She trod the road in front of me each step driven by will alone. She breathed through parted lips she panted almost. Sucking in a breath then relinquishing it without strength. She walked as if she ached her feet her legs her lower back. The very muscles that held her shoulders up barely refused to let her crumble. Step. Step. Another Step.Tiredness pain heat. She didnt look at me. Her eyes werent searching. She held no energy to notice more than bitumen beneath those boots. Her gaze faced forwards noncommittal. If she saw the road she trod without looking. If she didnt see she moved by automation. I thought before today that I knew Weariness. That she and I had met before. But I doubt Ive felt that womans burden. I havent lived as if I could barely breathe. Im left wondering how she made it home and what will be there when she arrives. Im hoping kindness will salve her aches and laughter draw her eyes... 2012-1-5 03:43:32 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#107825 I remember when I first spoke to the teacher. I said She really needs to go to school I know shes only little. All her friends have gone to school I really think its best. And the teacher nodded and smiled and probably thought a million thoughts about fartoo eager parents then said She can begin next term. So my little girl went to school. With her minibag and bright red gum boots and fruit in her lunch box cut up small. She learned to sing Five little monkeys jumping on the bed She jumped on the trampoline at lunch. She sucked her thumb during storytime and played in the sand pit if the big kids let her. Today she stood on a stage and dwarfed by the podium confidently welcomed us to her Grade Six Graduation. With her hair in six tiny plats placed to circle her head she didnt fidget and she didnt mumble. She now knows more grammar than I do ushers lost kindy kids around at lunch and would dance all day if we let her. So what will I do next year with a high school girl for ... 2011-11-30 06:53:24 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#106376 Have you seen Praiseworthy Hes the security guard down at the corner who smiles as if he really means it. As if were he to ask that rhetorical How are you question youd know he actually wanted to know. Its the cup of coffee so large so brimming with froth and chocolate that it requires two hands to lift it for a first hopeful taste. Shes the woman at the checkout who despite her tired eyes laughs and chats as if she was there for this very moment to help you though the day. Its the patient deliberate presicion of round and round up and down until the expanse of grass unnoticed by most taken for granted by the rest is tidied and mowed. Its the gift of a small individually wrapped cookie loaded with white chocolate chips to accompany a hurried bustled desperately take away hot chocolate. Theyre the ladies sitting in a safe wiping borrowed toys piece by piece with a baby wipe so someone else can have a fun fun day. Praiseworthy. Im glad we met. Whatever is lovely is my attempt... 2011-11-8 02:10:58 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#105039 Ive been struggling lately with a lack of energy not just physical but mental. I sit at my computer and feel like rather than dancing in the freedom of writing Im pushing a leaky wheelbarrow full of wet sand up a rocky hill. This is an interesting feeling for me and not one Im used to. In the past writing has been my medicine it picks me up and fills my imagination with hope. Not lately. It feels like work. Perhaps because it is work. I have a contract to fulfil a novel to get out and polished before December and I feel weak kneeed. Part of this is circumstance. My life now is tighter than it used to be my mind is full of other stories real life ones that seem to squeeze the fiction from the corners and make it seem trivial. Part is fatigue and the tendency towards melancholy. When Im feeling downcast my creative spirit curls on its side and whimpers rather than sings. But I think another reason the writing feels harder is perhaps because and note this is what Im telling myself at ... 2011-10-20 02:57:25 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#104370 Ive been thinking a lot lately about busyness and simplicity and the reminder from Psalms to just be still Psalm 46 verse 10. It seems like being hurried and frantic and busy has become the norm. We have to timetable everything in order to cover all the bases. As a writer I find myself trying to squeeze novel thoughts in between sweeping the floor and picking up dog poo from our tiny back yard. The children are longing to play freely without limits their biggest complaint when school goes back is their loss of freedom because once school is back their routine launches into full swing and free play goes out the window. But what if and Im seriously asking the question here so please comment if you can we were brave enough to alter the way we faced life and decided to take a long deep breath and slow down Some of the things in our lives we cannot stop. I cannot stop the toddler tossing milk bottle lids currently a favourite toy around the house. I cannot stop his unceasing energy an... 2011-10-11 02:34:09 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#102603 When we live somewhere does it require our heart Are we asked apon entry to love those around us To say that we promise to care Do we sit and watch and then comment lightly Or must we feel the heat around us Will we sign the dotted line that asks us if well hope Do we breathe deep whatever the scent then plant a garden Water change Does compassion stir us when we see what we see almost everyday When things go wrong do we nod our head verifying our last conversation When blue and white tape appears round street corners do we drive slow to satiate curiosity Or are we nudged toward dismay at so much brokenness How much of us is required by the address on the back of an envelope Do we have the right to close our eyes just like we close the curtains Are we justified to cast eyes down so we cannot see eachothers Does our superiority put us above reproach And if there is a time one day when where we live is weighed and judged will not the verdict for our towns include our own names As... 2011-9-16 04:05:38 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#101416 A writing friend and I sat down one day to be wisened by a DVD. Thou shalt go out and promote thouself the speaker did espouse. So hungry in my attempt to do what must be right I took down the notes and scrawled across my page blog blog blogBut I have not. I must lower my face and humbly admit my failing. In marketing terms for wannabeauthors I admit I am a disgrace. My offering to my would be fans is not a thrice weekly update. The Penny Drops are as they are called drops. Irregular at that. So here in true navel gazing fashion are my 5 excuses inadequate I am sure they will be deemed and perhaps one day reversed. But here and now in the tide of my life which I choose to be counter current to that of the world around me this is why I do not blog1 I do not wish to waste the precious time of yours assuming that every word that departs from my mouth is worthy of your reading. It is not. Your time is more valuable than that. 2 I need to keep my musings private rather than censor them fo... 2011-8-30 05:09:32 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#99548 A few months ago in my attempt to locate a nice park with a swing for my toddler I smelt a wonderful garden. I write smelt because I did literally. Head down pushing my stroller in frustration I became aware of roses before I saw them. When I looked up they were beaming at me. Wide. Full. Effervescent in love. I lingered I leant in I tried to look intelligent as I absorbed the surprising beauty. Then I pushed the pram home and forgot about them. But last week I went walking again. This time armed with my camera a card and an envelope. Dear Rose Grower I drafted the note in my mind as I walked. Thank you for the beauty you have grown in your garden. I pushed the pram down the street making one sided conversation with my tiring toddler and almost missed the house. I smelt nothing but sunshine and faint car fumes. The roses werent there. Stubby sticks bare of any leaves let alone a fragrant bud poked from the earth where the bushes had stood. The gardener had done as all good rose growers... 2011-8-1 10:57:50 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#97832 You know you may have an addiction to the post when you hear the postie bike coming before it even gets to your house. When you subconsciously time the squeaking breaks and hold your breath to see if it will stop beside your wind wobbled letter box. When you find yourself wondering if it what you heard was your imagination and check three times before the actual squeaks arrive you can be fairly sure there is a problem. It wasnt always like this. I used to be more laid back. In the mountains I watched the clock. I knew by 11am in the morning that the post would be delivered. Id check about then I didnt have to wait for sounds imagined or not. And before that I used the children as an excuse or a visit to my beloved for the post collection point was directly opposite his office. I would paste on a carefree smile and casually ask in my try hard Nepali Has the mail arrived I wonder if the man behind the desk could tell the difference between my false smile when his answer was no and the r... 2011-7-7 04:04:12 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#97120 Today thirteen years ago I wore the prettiest dress Ive ever owned. I had flowers in my hair gloves to my elbows and enough adrenalin to keep me warm despite the weather. I traveled the longest slowest journey to our local church listening to soppy love songs in the car while my daddy misted over. I walked up the stairs and down the aisle to the theme from The Princess Bride. And then I held your hand. I promised to love you. To stay with you no matter what life brought our way. I kissed you in front of all those people something I wasnt even sure Id do. Since then weve traveled to different places seen amazing and frightening things. Ive held your hand in my heart when I couldnt hold it in public. Weve been sick afraid depressed amazed surprised awed by what weve lived and by each other. Today you bought me flowers and I chose them in the shop while you joked about how few I wanted. I cooked a meal of seafood just for you and you let me have a taste. Then while I did the dishes I let... 2011-6-27 11:27:29 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#95897 You work before most people notice you are even there. You scrape the bird poo from bus stop seats. You pick up rubbish left from last nights meanderings and scrub the tops of the conveniently spaced bins. You diligently blow and sweep and scoop and collect and bag the leaves from trees designed to molt. You might be listening to your music plugged in against the cold. Your head is down your face unsmiling your bold yellow vest bright against the reluctant day. When you are finished I wonder if you look back up the street and smile slowly in pleasure at a job well done. Or do you just trudge on to the next task assigned to youAs the sun is shining and midday approaches as the wind tosses leaves carelessly and people litter likewise I want stop and give you credit. I want to ask another one or two to look outside tomorrow morning. Look outside the cold wet windows of their cars and as they wait in line for the lights to change may they notice how the main street of my town stands hopefu... 2011-6-10 00:55:49 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#94249 Discontent calls my name.She whispers honest observationslulling me to sour sleep amid the bristle patch.The chance is offered should my heart not beat its track sharp in the opposite directionto murmur quiet agreement.For I know for sure theres truth beyond.But Discontent she strokes my handand tugs my empathetic side with wishful thinkingtomorrows dreams anothers fruit.Before I know what has occurredMelancholy comes a calling. My regular defenses downI invite the depressing neighbour inand serve some light refreshments beg a favourplay the host.Despite my well intentioned hospitalityI sense a deadening in my soulfor Discontent now curls herselfin Melancholys wide white lapand I am suddenly spent and lonelywishing I had never let them near. This think was written while I was mulling over the way our thought habits can affect our mood and outlook. Sometimes we linger too long with negative thoughts rather than fixing our eyes on the wondrous and beautiful. The cost of this seemingly in... 2011-5-19 02:44:51 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#92899 This is it I didnt actually say the words but I felt them rising. The portion before me was not what Id expected. Surely I deserved a little more gravy A little less lemon rind and was that gristle I eyed the cutlery with disgust and decided to make a complaint. Now understand me I dont make a habit of complaining. I accept what Im given with practised humility. But that night I was tired and hungry and felt deserving. So I picked up my plain ill prepared unbalanced meal and walked to the head of the table to speak my mind. However when I got there the hosts seat was empty. Where is he I asked the nearest waiter. She looked at me as if to say Where do you think hed be and her head tilted towards the kitchen. The kitchen Why would my wonderful host bother himself there I paused for a moment then considered my luck. Perhaps my host had already heard about the lazy chef and mismanaged kitchen staff. Hed put them in their place. Hed sort out my portion. So I pushed ope... 2011-5-2 03:18:06 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#90232 Curled like slivers of chiselled timber scraps they arched their backs towards the sky. The world around cursed and fled ever forwards in unspoken purpose. No one it seemed beside myself even noticed them. I saw no windows roll down no eyes averted no other faces dart from the road in front to the scattered remains and back again in hurried curious glance. For they hid their secrets well. Not one though the wind gripped their edges and tried to pry them from the bitumen bent to show themselves. Fascinating strength corners tipped they clung to anonymity and the lights changed from red to green and I too sped on away to what required me.The journey of return took me via their falling ground once more but their white scales of selves had been flicked away. The wind and force of passing traffic had pushed them from the road. I followed the course stretched out in front of me with little thought or inward direction and returned to the building I call my home. My loved ones smiled at me in ... 2011-3-26 08:17:25 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#88699 Dear DiaryWho are you exactly and why do you demand my thoughts Why when my eyes are stinging from tiredness and my hands sore from gardening without gloves do you require my attention Yes I moved through another day. I had the privilege of wiping away todays date from the whiteboard calendar that keeps me on track. And I accomplished many things that I know I must give myself credit for. But no there really isnt anything worth writing here for future generations to admire. I didnt discover how to make a flawless sponge that I believe is my neighbors job. I didnt paint a portrait of someone glamorous though I did cringe at my reflection in the mirror this morning does that count I finished a novel it was richly rewarding beautifully worded and capturing of the imagination. That felt nice. Then I walked the baby. Fed the husband. Washed the sink. Swept the rug. Pruned the lettuce. Rerolled the toilet paper. Unmade the bed. Reheated the hot chocolate. And I wrote 243 words. Are you impre... 2011-3-7 23:28:15 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#87438 I love a sunset sky with a smattering of cloudswind chimes doing what they were made forsoft direction of suede and its opposite direction tang of spice after a favourite mealrain on grass and a hot baked road.What about you What do you love Try one per sense. 2011-2-21 08:55:53 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#86812 My children are watching their favourite movie again and from where I sit I can hear the dialogue clearly even though I cannot see the picture. I know the scenes by heart due to serious levels of Narnian overdose but today the single phrase Excuse me are you a faun has stuck in my mind. There is nothing fancy about the question the language isnt writerly brilliant it is just simple and straight forward a logical question for the character at this point in the story. But this phrase isnt just about logic its laden with hope.For our character knows she isnt in a dream. She knows she is feeling the cold breathing in its sharp sweetness. She knows the scent of the woods is real but a faun A creature from her story books from imagined places if it was real really real then everything would be different. She doesnt ask Are you real She doesnt ask What do you want or why am I here She doesnt anticipate evil or adventure. No her question is almost a prequestion showing the state of her hear... 2011-2-13 00:50:40 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#85614 I am a bit of a period drama addict. I love any and all of them. Jane Austen. Elizabeth Gaskell. Dickins in film. Ahhh. Im happy. I even have a friend in Scotland who has taken it upon her brrrrriliant self to keep me in good supply of these wonderful fantasies. But Im not a purist by a long shot. Im just as happy with the painfully long six hour version of Mansfield Park as I am with the glitzy glamour Bollywood version of Bride and Prejudice. And while I know some people who will not budge past the Colin Firth version I was pleasantly surprised by Keira Knightleys shorter PampP in fact there are some scenes in it that I adore.One scene in particular is my favourite. It is when Elizabeth Keira Knightley of course has gone to visit Pemberly. She stands atop a cliff and absorbs the wonder of the view all the while her skirt long and lovely of course is whipped by the wind as if the wind itself is holding her up. Something about this scene stuck deep in my soul and I found myself longin... 2011-1-28 08:21:55 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#84336 I had the privilege last month to be involved with the Christmas Carols presentation of our church. Here is part of the story I told over the course of that evening..Now outside the town of Bethlehem perhaps on the side of a little hill there was a flock of sheep. They were smelly sheep with long matted fur that sometimes caught stinky stuff in it and got knotted around prickles. The sheep were not wild they probably belonged to a wealthy man from Bethlehem town. He bought them and sold them and sometimes ate them for dinner. But he never looked after them. That work belonged to some of the poor families of the town. There was a group of these men shepherds you call them watching the sheep that very night Mary and Joseph went to settle themselves by lamp light in the stable cave. These men had names but we dont know what they were. God however knew all about these shepherds. He knew they probably wished they were at home under nice blankets drinking hot soup. He knew the... 2011-1-10 22:02:17 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#82761 The other week was an exciting one for me. I was able to view and comment on some of the artwork that will be in my new series of Find the Animal books due out 2011. Im not sure yet of the release date but Ill keep you posted. Roger deKlerk whose bright illustrations made the original series so popular has been asked and agreed to do the work for the new set. When the first series came out I was a brand new author. Although I wrote the original texts while living in Australia the majority of the work on turning the idea to an actual book happened while I lived in Nepal with limited internet access. So and I think this was one of those ways that God used to keep me humble I had to wait till after the books were available for sale in the rest of the world before someone could courier me my first copies. This time with better internet available and options Ive been able to have a lot more input. Although Ive only seen the roughs for one of the books so far its looking goo... 2010-12-15 00:25:40 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#81517 Today I imagine my life as a pencil case. This may seem strange to those who are not lovers of pencils and pens as I am but hey humour me. My pencil case isnt new its worn slightly stained at the edges but the zip still works and it does the task required. Inside my pencil case are my friends. I have a marker with a fine fine tip that can gently emphasise strengths in my character. I have a highlighter or two those friends that come up close and show me blatantly where I need to change. There is a pencil 2B steady and fair. A pacer elegantly simple and justly so. I have a set of colours perhaps more of one tone than another and these shade and enhance my life in ways I can barely understand. There is a charcoal pencil passionate and strong. A gold leaf pen I occasionally see. Ive a glitter pen that sparkles incessantly even on my dullest days and a water colour pencil of the gentlest blue. My collection isnt complete it probably isnt the same as yours but a life without the markings of... 2010-11-28 23:31:01 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#80325 Ive been thinking about suffering as being a choice. Not that we choose to suffer or that those who are going through hard times are doing so self inflicted but rather that the way we live our lives what we stand up for what we commit to who we are willing to love is linked fast to the whether were willing to take pain as part of the consequence of our choice. Some people say they fall into love as if it is an accident. There are those times when attraction is hard to explain unwanted almost but love true and lasting love is a choice. It is a choice that says yes to potential suffering. Promising to love someone in sickness and in health is not just making a mental note to buy cough medicine next time youre at the shops. The recent prize winner of the poetry section of the CALEB book prize was a collection of poems about the love of a couple facing their final year together due to cancer. I read another story of a family who faced the birth of their unborn and s... 2010-11-15 00:25:34 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#79759 This week I will remember. I may not cry or shudder I doubt Ill feel the trembles still remaining of a world that threatened to crack wide open and watch you fall but I chose to pull the file from my memories and see his face again. This week Ill remember more than songs I wish I didnt hear in supermarket aisles Ill think about a life that was lived a voice that was strong a dream that was held. Ill consider the mystery and wonder and joyous rebellion that you were privileged enough to share. And Ill remember what youve taught mein all the months that somehow crawled ahead then curled away into the pastabout grief and courage and honesty compassion and strength and faith and the inadequacy of so so many words. Dear dear friend I write you this letter 2010-11-8 05:37:02 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#78675 Come on puppy I tug I pull and the little spotty dog titters slightly forwards. We are halfway out into the reserve. Her toes are getting wet and the ground that isnt covered with hard sharp prickles is soggy and slushy and damp. She doesnt seem to care what the drains have washed up in the recent storm. She doesnt even seem to want to go on this walk. So I drag her forwards encouraging her in a doggysweetvoice. I pull her after the big dog bounding through the puddles. The big dogs loving this walk Shes splashing mud up her belly water up her nose and the tennis ball splits and groans as she chews it in delight. Come on were getting left behind. I say and I pull the little dogs lead till it grips her tight under the legpits. But the poor thing wont move. She has one sore paw lifted at an angle off the ground. Her head is lowered her eyes cast down as if to say Ive let you down I know. I wanted to be everything you thought I was tough riotous carefree. But Im not. I... 2010-10-25 03:50:12 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#75323 I spoke recently to a group of 8 and 9 year olds. I had my purple diamondy shirt on my kneehighhighheeled boots and my author hat that I put on to wear out when invited or feeling brave. I was talking to them about books. About books and writing and story and God. So I got to that stage when I pull out a favourite section of one of my novels the toilet scene. Every good book needs a toilet scene I say to the kids to grab their interest and unwittingly align myself to the hilarious conversations that occur around a Hadfield family table. I begin to read. I use appropriate expression as I read the desperate humiliation faced by my main character and then mid sentence I see him one of my listeners.Hes sitting cross legged like the rest of them but hes leaning forward at an angle that tells me hes completely unaware of himself. His jaw has dropped his eyes are wide and sparkling. Hes lost completely lost in the story in the few paragraphs I had chosen to read. I take a deep breath and kee... 2010-9-13 05:44:35 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#72658 Last weekend I was involved in a childrens program with our local church and I taught the kids a memory verse Love the Lord your God listen to his voice and hold fast to him. Deuteronomy 3020. Funny how we learn so much when we set out trying to teach.Love you say. Easy Or not. For that requires pretty much all of me. It means the bit of me thats left over after rushing the kids off to school. It means the bit of me thats pushing them into shoes and out the door. It means the bit of me thats wanting to curl up and pretend today didnt need to begin. Love you say. Love the Lord your God. The Lord. Your God.Listen you whisper. Easy. Or not. For that requires me to actually stop. To turn my ear and cock my chin in your direction not my own. It means I need to breath deeper longer breaths against the tide of anxiety and feel your stillness seep softly in. Listen you whisper. Listen to my Son. The Lord. Your God.Hold fast you say. Easy Or not. For that requires my letting go of what els... 2010-8-12 12:15:37 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#69633 To wake up to laughterand then discover a circus for mice strung between dining room chairs. To take a piece of lamingtonin between mealsand share it eightways with the kids on the street. To revel in silencethat isnt really silencebecause outside the wrestling and dance shows go on. To smile at the clerk behind the post office desk and say Yes these are my kids and Im not tired of them yet. 2010-7-6 02:09:24 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#68052 We have a tiny backyard. Two little triangles of grass are split by a diagonal concrete path to the back gate. Over the back fence there is an enormous green rectangle of grass. It doesnt belong to us we dont mow it or pull out the weeds. But we do all four of us bipeds and the two dogs gaze at it with fondness and imagine it as our space. This morning we woke and looked out the window as normal to see the frost on the big green and I noticed a television. It was smashed at the bottom of the drainage slope. From what we could see it lay face up with various pieces of screen spread around it. Probably stolen I mumbled. Later the kids and I took the dogs for a walk. We went down to inspect the TV. My son was fascinated by the bits and pieces. The dogs were distracted by unusual scents. And I noticed the blood just a few drops dark burgundy in colour against the empty screen. I called to the children and we walked away. We returned to our little back yard and locked the gate. When I ... 2010-6-16 00:24:35 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#65717 When I was a child someone once told me that birthmarks or scars could be very useful. If the example was given to me my body was found unconscious my family would be able to identify me by locating the large thumb print shaped birthmark on my left thigh. And if that wasnt enough evidence that I was me there was also the little pockmarked scar on my knee from where a painful boil had been popped for me by my father. So this morning several years after I have ceased by definition to be called a child I am considering what other markings I may have that would identify me. Not physical scars this time but habits oddities the peculiarities that if they were described to my family my husband theyd immediately say Yes thats Penny alright. There are things like the fact I sleep on my tummy snore when Im sick and laugh at my own jokes when no one else does. I tend to love pencils and paper and old style desks. I eat chocolate by row rather than piece. I hate having cold shoulders so steal th... 2010-5-20 01:29:14 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#61728 Shyleen. Thats the name of a character Ive been writing on and off for a few years now. She started out as a creative writing excercise and turned into something of a novel. But Shyleens novel was never finished. She moved aside while I worked on another important book she sat and waited while Tania Abbey had her turn and Ive just recently opened her notebook again and begun to get my mind back into her world and all it involves. But Ive found myself with a tricky question at hand why exactly am I writing this book Whats the point What does Shyleen have that other books currently available or being written by other authors doesnt Does myself as writer mean I can sit at my pretty desk and make up whatever stories I just happen to feel like Or am I as a servant entrusted with a set of talents just as responsible for the use of my resources as someone with a different task And if I am brave enough to really find answers to these questions what will my writing look like then 2010-3-30 00:17:57 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#54551 Yesterday I opened my laptop for the first time in several months. It took me a lot to get to that stage. In my spare moments of the few days previous I had begun clearning my desk of everything that had accumulated there. Before that I had found myself a new notebook and purchased some new pens the kind with the comfy grip and easy to flow ink. The days prior to that I spent tidying my house getting up to speed on some of the jobs busyness had pushed aside because being busy and consumed by a life unusual doesnt just put writing on hold. So after catching my breath again and it was time to open the lap top and write. Write anything. Write something. I have several projects on the go at the moment. Several books waiting to find homes. I should know a bit more about the future of the Tania Abbey series within the next month or two which will be nice. I like Tania and her gang. I also have two novels waiting here for me to finish them... again there are some great characters I want to s... 2009-12-15 01:48:02 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#50986 Life hurts The dreams we made painted and wished come crashing into puddles And we sit in them like forgotten flowers beaten by the rain But out of here comes a gentle hand to cup our bruises hold our pain Then deeply breathe a shuddering love till all we feel is someone else and that someone elses life. 2009-10-20 03:10:38 http://www.pennyreeve.com/page3.htm#48658 Over the weekend I attended a workshop at the NSW Writers Centre. It was a two day course on Story Design. I had deliberately chosen the course to help me work on two projects that I have simmering. One is a YA novel that I have worked and reworked to the one third point about eight times. The other is a new junior novel I am only just beginning. The course was a good one and really helped me to clarify my thinking on the direction of the stories I am attempting to write. But it also helped to encourage me to quit fiddling and to write. I am very skilled at procrastination. the only problem is that procrastination wont turn ideas into books. So I am reminded to write. And that is where Im off to now... Penny. 2009-9-14 04:11:35