Completing the trilogy

I tend not to plan much ahead in my life, and back at the beginning of this year I had no idea that I was going to publish a series of three novellas during 2014 – marking the launch of what I hope will be an on-going career as an indie author.

The Windflower Vibration, the third book in the trilogy, has just come out. Please read on for the blurb, and details of a free offer on the e-book version.

“A man dies while swimming off an Auckland beach. Georgina is out walking with her grandson when the rescue helicopter arrives, and they become involved in the aftermath of the event. Was this man’s death due to natural causes hastened by medical malpractice? Or was it one strand in a complex web of events, spread over two hemispheres and two centuries, involving homeopathy, Elgar’s violin concerto, forbidden love affairs and a sick dog? Georgina’s life has seemed empty following the loss of her husband, but by the end of her quest to unravel these mysteries she has found a new purpose. Set partly in England and partly in New Zealand, The Windflower Vibration can be read on its own or as a sequel to Jennifer Barraclough’s earlier novellas Carmen’s Roses and Blue Moon for Bombers.”

The Windflower Vibration is available in both print and ebook versions from Amazon and other online stores. Between now and the end of this year, I can offer readers of this blog a free copy of the e-version from Smashwords: if you are interested, click on this link and enter the coupon code GP73W at check-out.

I would hugely appreciate your help with marketing; please consider posting a star rating, writing a brief review on Amazon or elsewhere, sharing this message with your contacts and/or asking your local library to buy a copy – thank you so much.

“Magic”

“Don’t get another cat that looks like Felix,” people told me. “You’ll only keep comparing them.” Sound advice, perhaps, but I decided to ignore it.

During my last volunteer shift at the SPCA I met a distressed young couple carrying a cardboard box. They told me it contained a live kitten who had been found, along with some dead ones, in the bush near their home in the country. I escorted them to the hospital block, where the box was opened to reveal a beautiful black and white Felix look-alike. Being assessed as a three-month-old male, this kitten must have been born around the same date when Felix died. Not that I believe in feline reincarnation, but it seemed like the hand of fate. I immediately applied to adopt him if and when he was ready to go to a new home, and decided to call him “Magic”.

An anxious wait followed. He had to spend a statutory seven days in the holding area in case an owner came forward. During this period there was a significant risk he would develop symptoms of cat flu or some other health problem. On the eighth day he would be microchipped and desexed, and hopefully be ready for adoption the day after.

Medically all went well, but when I rang to arrange the pick-up I learned that not only had Magic’s black and white coat developed ginger streaks, but that “he” had turned out to be a “she”.

It was a big shock. I was reminded of the scene in the film Carousel where Gordon McRae’s character realises that his unborn child might be a daughter instead of a son.

But like the man in the film I came to terms with the situation, and went ahead with the adoption. With her ginger streaks and feisty nature, Magic is not much like Felix at all. But she is a sweet, lively and affectionate kitten who has settled into our household right away and I hope will bring us love and joy for many years to come.

 

 

 

 

When doctors become writers

Several of my friends and acquaintances have, like me, exchanged a career in medicine for one in creative writing.

Some had to retire early from medicine because of illness or family circumstances. Some chose to leave the profession after becoming “burnt out” by the continual exposure to human suffering, the weight of responsibility for people’s lives and health, frustration with the administrative aspects, or the long hours. Others were simply driven by an overpowering desire to write. For me, after 30 years in medicine, the reasons were mixed.

Working as a doctor provides a wealth of material for fiction writing. Although the settings of my own three novellas are mainly non-medical, drugs and diseases play crucial roles in all their plots. The risks of breaching patients’ confidentiality, libelling professional colleagues or offending readers’ sensibilities must be kept in mind, and I am currently debating whether the satirical novel which I wrote while working as a junior doctor in a psychiatric hospital is too politically incorrect to publish.

Unlike such well-known figures as Somerset Maugham, Anton Chekhov and Arthur Conan Doyle, most “physician-writers” will never achieve fame and fortune as authors. They will usually experience a drop in income and status and, no longer having a structured work environment or daily interaction with colleagues, must become entirely self-motivated. Life coaching can help with adapting to the transitions and, in my experience, the freedom and stimulation of developing a new career in mid-life more than makes up for the losses.

Outside criticism, and self-criticism, may suggest that those who choose this path are no longer making a worthwhile contribution to society. This is only partly valid, for the written word can have marked effects for better or worse on people’s well-being. I am always delighted if someone tells me they have benefited from one of my medical books or enjoyed one of my novels. But while doctors have direct contact with their patients and are usually able to tell whether their treatments have healed or harmed, writers do not meet the majority of their readers and will never know the wider impact of their books.

 

 

Other writers: competitors or colleagues?

Writing is a solitary occupation. Most writers prefer to work on their own in a quiet room without interruptions from people, pets, phone calls and texts, or noises from the street. Such a peaceful environment is often unavailable, as I have been finding lately since having two mischievous foster kittens in the house.

Despite their wish for peace and solitude, writers do benefit from contact with the outside world in general, and with other writers in particular. But for a number of reasons they may not get very much. Members of most other professions can hardly avoid forming peer relationships whether through a shared workplace, a culture of teamwork, or requirements for continuing education and supervision. In contrast, writers seldom meet other writers unless they make the deliberate effort to join societies and groups, whether in person or online, and to attend events and courses. Many of them have introverted personalities and are not naturally drawn to social activities, perhaps viewing them as an added distraction from the serious business of writing. Also, they may regard themselves as in competition with each other for sales, or be wary of having their ideas stolen if they share them before publication.

Abuses can occur, but I think the benefits of contact with other writers outweigh the risks. Since making a serious commitment to fiction writing I have gained a lot through discussions in Linkedin groups, and occasional personal interchanges with the four other women writers in my circle of friends. We have reviewed each others’ manuscripts, exchanged tips about the self-publishing process, and provided encouragement when the going gets rough due to lack of inspiration, technical problems, or negative responses to our work. I have been meeting one of these friends, Jean, for coffee about once a month for several years, during which time both of us have self-published a number of books.  We met in Auckland, then discovered that we were brought up in the same English town, Gravesend in Kent, a few years apart; one of Jean’s books, Chalk Pits and Cherry Stonesgives a fascinating account of her wartime childhood there.

 

 

Choosing, and changing, the names of your characters

The important and enjoyable task of naming fictional characters is not always straightforward.

Most people find that certain names suggest certain features of personality and appearance. This reflects their own life experience. So, while the name Carol might remind me of the placid blonde in my class at school, you might picture Carol as a feisty brunette.

There is nothing to be done about these individual variations, but all names have universal associations too, and it is worth looking them up. Some names relate to particular ethnic, cultural or religious groups or periods in history. Some are intended to convey personal qualities such as courage or charm.

Names which belonged to well-known celebrities, Diana or Marilyn for example, are probably best avoided. It is also best to avoid using several similar names, such as Sara and Sandra, in the same book.

Modern word-processing technology makes it deceptively simple to change characters’ names. Such changes can cause problems, as I have found in my own work and when reviewing manuscripts for friends.  Sometimes the same person is called by different names in different parts of the book. It should be easy to avoid this by using the “Find and Replace” function, however this powerful tool can have serious unwanted effects if carelessly used. For example changing Amy to Katy, without matching the case or specifying whole words only, would cause and the word “dreamy” to turn into “dreKaty”.

My own over-sensitivity to being criticised or offending people has caused me concern around the choice of names. What if one of the several Roberts I know is upset if he finds that I have called one of my less attractive characters by his name? What if a complete stranger brings a libel action because I have unwittingly used his or her name in a book? Such fears led me to change a few names in my first novel just before it went to print. But I still thought of my characters by their original names, and when I wrote the second novel I used one of them by mistake. Fortunately, while writing the third, I realized what I had done and have been able to get round it by introducing a new twist to the plot.

In conclusion, it is best to avoid last-minute name changes, but if you do decide they are necessary be sure to follow up with a careful check of the whole text.

 

Marinading a manuscript

When writing a new book I often feel impatient to finish it. There is really no need for this, considering that I enjoy the actual process of writing so much, and know that I am likely to feel a depressing sense of anticlimax when it is done. Melodramatic though it sounds, perhaps I am afraid I might die before the book is complete.

Modern self-publishing technology makes it easy to rush into print too soon. The front page of the Amazon kdp website says Get to market fast … Publishing takes less than 5 minutes. What a contrast to the old days when writers usually had to wait several months for agents and publishers to respond to a proposal, implement any changes requested during the assessment process, and then wait several more months between acceptance and publication.

I try not to be impatient because I know most books turn out better if they are written slowly, going through several revisions with gaps in between. When re-reading a draft manuscript after several weeks or months, I often have new ideas about how to improve it, and discover mistakes or inconsistencies which I did not notice before.

Though this slow staged method works best in most cases, it does not suit everyone. Some of the most brilliant writers – and artists, and composers – have produced their best work through a single burst of creative inspiration, not needing to revise it at all.

This is all a bit like cooking. A skilled chef using top quality fresh ingredients can produce delicious meals in a few minutes, but for the average cook most dishes are improved by being marinaded in the raw state and then being cooked slowly, and taste even better if reheated a day or two later.

I’ve just finished the first draft of my third novella, which will form a trilogy with Carmen’s Roses and Blue Moon for Bombers. I intend to discipline myself to put the new manuscript aside for a few weeks before doing any more work on it, and in the meantime start writing something different, step up my marketing activities, or even clean out some cupboards at home.

Foster kittens

As a result of the chain of events following the death of Felix I am now fostering two small kittens, a brother and sister whom I have named Marco and Polo. They came to me through the Lonely Miaow Association of Auckland, the same charity through which I acquired Felix fourteen years ago.

Marco is a male mackerel tabby, Polo a female tabby-and-white. Both of them are lively, playful,  friendly little cats. Fostering involves a lot of work but is very rewarding. I am busy all day long with feeding them, changing their litter trays, playing with them and keeping them out of danger.

I love them both, though not in the same way as I loved Felix, which is just as well because in a few weeks’ time I will have to part with them. When they are old enough to have been desexed, vaccinated and microchipped they will be ready for adoption.

Although Felix himself would no doubt have detested having them here, it is good to know that his death has had the positive outcome of helping other rescue kittens to find “forever homes”.

“Replacing” a lost cat

It is impossible to “replace” an animal who has died, and for more than a month after losing Felix I felt no desire to get another cat. This was partly because there is other feline company in this house, for besides having our own dear Daisy, we receive frequent visits from two male cats who live nearby.  Another reason was that I dreaded the prospect of growing to love another and then, more likely than not, having to go through the agony of bereavement again in a few years’ time.

Then I began to feel differently. I started scanning websites about cats available for adoption, and felt very tempted when I found a young black and white male who not only looked just like my own Felix but also had the same name. However, many experts advise against seeking a carbon copy of the previous cat – there is a risk that the two animals will always be compared, usually to the newcomer’s disadvantage.

Many experts also advise against getting another cat “on the rebound” while still grieving for the one which was lost. However there are no rules and sometimes this is the best way of easing the pain, at the same time as giving an unwanted animal a new home. On a recent volunteer shift at the SPCA I met a woman whose cat had died only one week earlier. She had apparently been crying ever since, but after choosing a new kitten to adopt was transformed with joy.

Rather than permanently adopting another cat myself at this time, I have decided on a compromise. Last week I accepted an invitation to become a foster carer for a local cat charity, and am very much looking forward to picking up two kittens – not black and white, but tabby – from the vets tomorrow.

“Letting go of the outcome” for writers

My earlier books were published in the traditional way. My own role was limited to writing the text and checking the proofs. I knew nothing about marketing, and was content to wait for the royalty cheques to arrive once or twice a year. Those early books sold well anyway, because they had a ready-made market in medical circles.

How different things are today, when the ease of independent publishing has resulted in a vast number of new books. Even traditional publishing firms now expect authors to promote their own work. While some books still achieve high sales, the majority sell only a few copies. Self-published writers are bombarded with advice on marketing and many spend huge time and effort, and sometimes a great deal of money, practising the recommended strategies with only modest success. They often become frustrated; feeling uncomfortable with the concept of self-promotion, resenting the time and energy spent on marketing instead of actual writing, unable to resist obsessionally checking their sales figures online.

Maybe it would be better to follow the advice of the spiritual gurus and self-help experts who teach about the Law of Attraction. These principles, of course, apply in all aspects of life besides writing. In summary: Do what you love, focus on what you want rather than what you don’t want, visualise the desired results, and cultivate the positive emotions you would feel if they had already materialised. Take practical steps when required, but don’t struggle to achieve your goals. If you intuitively feel you are on the right path don’t be diverted by outside criticism, by your need for approval, or by your hope of financial reward. Instead of trying to control the exact nature and timing of the outcome by conscious effort, do your own part as best you can, and then hand the process over to the wisdom of the unseen forces which you may choose to call Spirit, the Universe, Fate, or God.

These powers work in mysterious ways. Many times in my own life, I have found that the result of actions I have taken is different from what I had expected or hoped for – and even if disappointing in the short term, it has often turned out for the best later on. Having the publishing contract for Persons not Diseases fall through at the last minute was the temporary setback which gave me the stimulus to explore the new world of  indie publishing. Conversely, sometimes the desired outcome does materialise but in unexpected ways. Last week I sold several books not as a result of deliberate marketing, but through chatting to some people at a party, and through writing a blog post about cats.

As regards timing, we may want and expect quick results, but with modern publishing technology – ebooks, and print on demand paperbacks – books can easily be updated and need never go out of print. Some of those which did not do well after their first release will go on to become late bloomers. But even those which never sell many copies will have been worthwhile if their authors benefited from the process of writing them, and just a few people benefited from reading them. After all, with rare exceptions, authors never hear from the readers whose lives have been touched by their books.

Trust in the Law of Attraction needs to be balanced with practical action. I have recently set up a Mailchimp newsletter which will come out just two or three times a year with details of any new books I have written, or any special offers. If you would like to sign up to receive it, please click on the link http://eepurl.com/325yj or paste it into your browser.

 

Bach flowers in bereavement

My dear cat Felix died last month. On the blog which I created in his memory there is a post about ways of coping with the loss of a pet, which includes a brief mention of the Bach flower remedies. The remedies are equally relevant to human bereavement, and I thought I would expand on the subject here.

The process of grief does not conform to a particular timescale or sequence of stages, but is different for each individual, depending on many factors: the circumstances of the death, the bereaved person’s attitudes and emotions, the quality of their relationship with the deceased, and whether they believe in an afterlife. There can be a complex and apparently conflicting mixture of feelings, for example sadness over the death might be combined with relief that the strain of a long illness is over, which in turn might be a source of self-reproach.

As always with Bach flower treatment, it is best to choose flowers according to the emotions which are uppermost at the present time, without trying to analyse them too deeply. But one flower which might almost always be suitable is Star of Bethlehem. In the words of Dr Bach:

For those in great distress under conditions which for a time produce great unhappiness. The shock of serious news, the loss of someone dear, the fright following an accident, and suchlike. For those who for a time refuse to be consoled, this remedy brings comfort.

Many other flowers might also be relevant. Here are some examples, which are listed alphabetically because they do not belong in any particular sequence.

Agrimony: when grief is denied or suppressed, perhaps with the aid of drugs or alcohol

Gorse: when everything seems hopeless

Holly: for negative feelings towards others

Honeysuckle: for holding on to memories from the past

Olive: for mental or physical exhaustion

Pine: for feelings of guilt or self-blame

Sweet Chestnut: for unbearable anguish and despair

Some of these remedies are also relevant in cases of “anticipatory grief” when a loved one has a terminal illness but has not yet died. Other flowers to consider in this situation could include Red Chestnut for anxiety on behalf of the sick person, and Mimulus for fear about how the survivor is going to cope with the death when it does occur. Lastly, there is Rescue Remedy for use in acute situations such as news of a sudden death.

Nothing can take away the pain of losing a beloved person or pet, but the Bach flowers are among the remedies which can bring some comfort, especially when grief seems unduly severe, complicated or prolonged.