Archive | February 2017

The writer’s rollercoaster

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo


I recently came into contact with a writer. Nothing unusual about that around here, but this wasn’t through blogging or any of the usual channels. We talked for a while, establishing that there were a whole load of coincidences leading up to our encounter, which seemed to break the social ice… and then we got down to talking about writing.

For a number of reasons, this writer had lost confidence in the book they had published… a first novel with what sounded like a great plot. Having read a fair bit of it, I could see the effort that had gone in to producing a gripping story and a well-presented book. The writer, though, had noticed the minor flaws and, as such things do, they had taken over, dulling what should have been justifiable pride.

I remember both those feelings vividly… that moment when you finally hold your first book…

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This entry was posted on February 27, 2017. 1 Comment

The ghost of a castle

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Peveril Castle from Cavedale, with Mam Tor, the Shivering Mountain, in the distance. Image: Rob BendallPeveril Castle from Cavedale, with Mam Tor, the Shivering Mountain, in the distance. Image: Rob Bendall

Castleton is a town of old, mellow stone, winding lanes and history. On the edge of the cliff, high above the cavern, stands Peveril Castle. The position, even to the untrained eye, appears to be both impregnable and a blatant statement of dominance.  With the keep perched on the edge of a sheer drop and the castle enclosure occupying a ridge high above the little town of Castleton, the Norman invaders were making it very clear who was now in charge. Little now remains to show just how important this castle was in history.

The castle is guarded by the steep slop of the hill from the town, the great cavern and the cliffs of Cavedale. From a military perspective, it is a fantastic site, giving clear views for miles across the surrounding…

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Do the Right Thing …

Books: Publishing, Reading, Writing

I had originally queued up this post with the thought of talking railing on about the seeming lack of compassion, sensitivity, concern – for their fellow human beings and the world at large – I’ve been witnessing for some time now from people everywhere (and not just politicians but also those close to home) who should definitely know better.

I decided instead to give you some examples of the ways average people, no matter what their income or expertise, can help others – even if it’s just a matter of including those others in our lives and making them feel welcome and wanted. I also added a video among these examples about helping the animals of the world, because we do share this planet, you know.

Personally, here are ways I have helped others …

For some years, I have promoted other authors free on my blogs. I’ve given them…

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This entry was posted on February 25, 2017. 2 Comments

Friday Musings


I have a lovely collection of poems, written by Denny Lancaster, and specifically gifted to me on one of my webpages many years ago. I took down that webpage a long time ago, although I still have all the design and html coding, etc. I’m thinking of honoring him with a small eBook only collection of some of these poems written specifically to and for me. The eBook would be permanently free forever. Just want to share his works with those who appreciate great poetry and to remember him. Thoughts?

Choosing to Live

She’s right. No one can move on until they have gone through the pain first,. Being an ostrich gets one no where whatsoever.

Many Faces of Cheri G

Time seems to be passing more quickly these days. I’ve been actually going out and choosing to live my life knowing how precious it can be and how quickly it can all be taken away.  I’ve been saying “yes” more, and leaving the relative comfort of my bedroom to actively participate in “the real world”.  (The “downside” to this, is that by actually doing things, I have less time to write about them, which is why my posts have been so sporadic lately.)

It’s as if I am finally pulling myself free of the viscous quagmire called grief.  Prying its cold fingers from around my heart (and ankles) and escaping its paralyzing grip.  Not that I can ever really be completely unburdened of it, but it seems that I have a bit more control over it all now.

I’m not foolish enough to think that it is something that I…

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