Spiritual Stories and Thoughts

"I don't work with unlucky people"

Fri, 03 Feb 2023 12:44:27 GMT

(a call to believe in fate)

My husband once worked with someone who, when it came to hiring people, would collect a pile of randomly stacked prospective CVs, pick up the top half and immediately throw the bottom half into the bin without even a read-through. To this he would state, “I don’t work with unlucky people.”

How does that story make you feel? It brings me face to face with the harsh truth of life’s randomness and how much luck really does play a part in one’s success. It made me feel quite powerless and disheartened, at least when I think of myself as being one of those summarily discarded CV’s. When I put my self into the role of decision maker however, I see what a useful technique it is for getting the job done in at least half the time.

I like to think that this old colleague of my husband’s actually possessed huge faith- that he believed if the universe intended something to happen it would not pass him by. I know from my own experience how some of the best things come directly from rejections, nastiness, or failures. At the time, I thought they were horrific and upsetting. But looking back, I see they were in fact good luck, bullets passing me by.

I can be too meticulous, too picky, too careful over things in life. For instance - I am often overwhelmed by the amount of weeding needed in my garden. I have always taken the view that I needed to do all the weeding by hand, on my knees, up close to the soil so I could determine ‘bad’ plant from ‘good’ plant. It takes a long while to finish the weeding. It begins to feel like a never-ending to-do, leading to overwhelm and then I find it hard to commit to do any weeding! My garden suffers, along with my enjoyment of it.

Until I was reminded of my husband’s colleague and thought ‘stuff it, I need to get this job done. I don’t grow unlucky plants!’. I got out my big garden fork and weeded in big swathes, identifying weeds from a standing position only. I no doubt removed a few of the ‘good’ seedlings, but I kept reminding myself that if that were the case then these plants were not intended for my garden.

I got so much more done that day. Considerably more! What used to take two-weeks had taken one day, and the garden doesn’t look damaged or devastated by this ‘care-less’ approach. In fact, I feel better, accomplished, and more willing to get other jobs completed.

And then there’s my writing.

I am trying to live more by this code too – “I don’t write unlucky words/sentences/paragraphs” means I am being less finickity about keeping my ‘darlings’, as Stephen King would say. If the word doesn’t earn its keep, then, woosh, it is weeded out. I believe that in being freer, less attached, and obsessively meticulous, I will uncover the story the universe intends me to write and do it in a way that means it might fly higher and wider. I believe by letting go I am enabling a stronger story, more compelling characters, and tighter, punchier prose to emerge.

It's still shocking being this daring. But what is meant to happen will. As the saying goes, ‘Man proposes, God disposes’.

Rachel x

I want...

Mon, 30 Jan 2023 11:40:02 GMT

... a Christmas present wish-list.

Well, here we are in the season of Advent, and the close of yet another year. As I have been nagging my children to give me their Christmas present lists, I figured I would put one of my own together. You get a sneak peak of it before it gets sent off to the big-guy for fulfillment:

** I want to feel youthful – feeling strong and pain free, living with style and panache.

** I want to glance in the mirror and see a wholly true version of myself and the best of my relations and ancestors looking back at me.

** I want to hear some loving communication between the old couple living next door, telegraphed through the wall between us.

** I want to find out about the prosperity and success of my other neighbours on the other side.

** I want to have a heart capable of withstanding the bruising of life, a heart which is full and generous and protected from momentary, passing unkindness.

** I want to be called gracious and loving when I am being those things. I want to be assertive or sensitive when it is necessary for the protection of my boundaries to be those things.

** I want to be happy when I am alone, but more; I want to be accepted when I am in company.

** I want to feel confident that the important people in my life are being responsible for their happiness and the state of their worlds.

** I want to discard some of my childhood training and beliefs about my worth and lovableness. I want to make those around me feel worthy and loved.

** I want to be set-free from false accusation and judgement by people who should know better and who cannot question the face-value rhetoric.

** I want to be light hearted about the importance my writing is to my heart. I want to free my writing from any torture or pressure my needy heart creates.

** I want to succeed for those who need me. I want to be needed by those who always try.

** I want to be a sister who knows what it is to be liked by her sisters.

** I want to be noticed and heard. I want to be on the outside, unnoticed, enjoying people watching, so that I can write better characters).

** I want to be told the truth by those willing to be challenged by me. I want to be mindful of other’s capacity to hear truths and find a way to still share them, gently.

** I want to make people comfortable with what I share. I want to not keep it all a secret.

** I want to embrace the hard soul-work that writing a great novel is. I want to honour myself by being brave enough to investigate my painful corners and describe them with accuracy.

** I want to be a good friend. I want to have good friends.

** I want to go graciously into the dying of the light. I want to rage appropriately against it too.

** I want to be gracious and kind. I want to be difficult to push around.

** I want this letter to be a one-page only document.

Rachel x

Persistence through deep uncertainty

Mon, 21 Nov 2022 15:10:29 GMT

the author's equation.

I heard the perfect description of what it is like to be an author of novels the other day, a phrase which encapsulated exactly the emotional tension I struggle with and which I think of now as the “author equation”; ‘ persistence through deep uncertainty ’.

These four words sum up what spending approximately six months in the pursuit of a story feels like! There remains deep uncertainty in all of it. This is true even on my very best writing days - when the story flies at me so fast I can barely type quickly enough, and writing feels physically satisfying, like eating a hearty meal after a brisk winter walk.

Will my choice of words work? Will my choice of character, the tense I chose, the point of view perspectives, will they mesh pleasingly? Will the emotional arc be compelling? Will it all hang plausibly together? Will it make sense? Will it be worth it? All these questions are impossible to answer with a knowing beyond any doubt. The whole endeavour of writing a book is built upon unknowable foundations.

The only way to ever be sure on any of these questions is to put the story out into the world and ask for others’ opinions on it. Even then, these readers, be they ‘experts’ like literary agents, editors, or publishers, or a ‘pleasure-only’ reader, may only provide their personal and highly subjective viewpoints. Ask for more than one opinion, which obviously is advisable, and the one certainty is that I will receive widely differing thoughts and advice. There is no dazzling singular and forever true ‘correct’ answer to any of it.

That leaves only persistence.

Now this, at least, I have control over. Persistence is an active verb. To continue steadfastly, as persisting requires, I must make an active choice to behave in this manner. That’s the good news within the author equation. Ah-hah, I say to myself, I just have to be persistent and get through the uncertainty, or maybe it is keep my head above the uncertainty? Tread water long enough so as not to drown in the uncertainty?

It doesn’t sound like too much comfort, does it? It still sounds like a lot of effort, heartache, hard-work, and confusion, doesn’t it? Well, yeah. It is.

I am planning my sixth manuscript this month – I feel by turns skin tingling excitement versus stomach turning dread. I must re-write considerable sections of my fourth manuscript, if I am to improve its chances of being ‘commercial’ (although even with the changes this is by no means guaranteed). I must complete the first of many edits of my fifth manuscript. With each of these three main projects I am uncertain of how and what my approach will be, what is the ‘best’ option. When friends ask me how its going, and I tell them the truth, I sound like a naïve teenager asking who their one true love will be, opining at them “but how will I know?” No wonder they stop asking!

I write this to you to remind myself that authorly success – though this surely applies to any challenge in life – is ninety-nine percent about simply turning up and doing the graft. By doing this I hope (and more accurately, pray!) that the magic final one percent will fall into place, and I will have written a deeply compelling story (indeed, stories) that will touch the hearts of all sorts of readers in the world. And when this happens, I imagine how the highfaluting critics will turn to me and ask me how I knew that was the ‘thing’ to write about, how did I nail the exact feeling of the zeitgeist and conjure a character so right for the times we now live in?

How to answer them? Truthfully of course. I simply persisted with uncertain ideas until I felt I could not describe them better any other wa y.

Rachel x

May I speak freely?

Mon, 24 Oct 2022 14:19:26 GMT

The unequivocal symbol of a free and civil society

I had a different blog planned this month. Instead, I feel the issue of free speech is more pressing.

It is a subject that as a writer I think is particularly relevant, but I have always felt a profound agreement with Voltaire’s words; “I wholly disapprove of what you say—and will defend to the death your right to say it.”. The reality of free speech in society is this simple. And scary too.

Why scary? Because there is a ‘risk’ we may hear things which make us feel uncomfortable - perhaps, we might find our beliefs challenged, our values rocked. We might hear something which causes us to have to confront logical or moral inconsistencies we have been holding in our hearts. Or perhaps we may have it pointed out to us that by sticking to a singular viewpoint we are propagating unfairness in society. Or simply have it confirmed that other human beings on the planet do not think exactly like we do.

So, yeah, scary. But hang on a minute – isn’t all the above (and more) exactly how each of us has discovered new things about ourselves and our world. Isn’t hearing a completely different perspective the trigger for human progression. Isn’t this the process at the heart of all the material-science modern society is so deeply enthralled with?

Canadian Prof. Jordan B Peterson is well known for his views on free speech – he’s nearly as succinct about it as Voltaire – his explanation of the fundamental good free speech does for society is based on the need for humanity to think. Really think. From thought comes speech – we humans do love to speak – and through speech (and I include writing in this, as I think Peterson does too) we process our thoughts, may view them critically and ultimately come to agree on the things which matter most. Even if this agreement is ultimately one where we agree to disagree.

For these reasons, I stand in defence of free speech. I want to be free to think all things, to talk and to write, to consider my words, to come to conclusions and hear a myriad of other opinions. I want to acquire knowledge and wisdom and to behave befittingly.

So why am I writing about this now? Because there is a lot of censorship and compelled speech going around. By compelled speech I mean the forcing, by use of legislation, the use of specific language or expressions irrespective of your agreement with them or your belief in the meaning behind such speech. This is different from prohibited speech, which sensibly seeks to prevent the use of language which has malicious or prejudicial intent, such as racist speech.

People who downright disagree with free speech are usually easy to spot – look up any despot or totalitarian dictator of any creed or ideology in the history books and their manipulations around what language is and isn’t allowed to be heard is usually cited as the first sign of their dangerous intentions.

The word ‘de-platform’ is now in common use (I fear its modern usage will no doubt be added to the Oxford dictionary soon, if it hasn’t already). I have witnessed many people I know being chucked off various social media platforms – not because they were speaking about illegal or even immoral things, just because they did not hold orthodox or ‘mainstream’ views. Are you aware of the clause in the proposed Online Safety Bill being pushed through Parliament which will enshrine in British law the crime of saying something online which is entirely lawful but might be harmful (with harm being defined in a vague ‘hurt-feeling’ kind of way)? So, that’s a potential law which aims to criminalise lawful behaviour, not because it is now deemed unlawful, but because it might cause someone, somewhere to be upset. I’m no lawyer, but that sounds bonkers to me.

But what actually made me swap to this topic for this letter was the news that the Free Speech Union had their PayPal account removed without notice and fair explanation. A third of their membership revenue is processed via PayPal, so this is a significant business disruption. Why did PayPal, a corporation, decide they could no longer enable the financial transaction of the Free Speech Union? The official line is it went against their equivalent of ‘community guidelines’.

Make of this what you will.

I made of it that I should act now and join the Free Speech Union (paying by direct debit – the censors haven’t infiltrated all UK banking functionality, yet) and that I should delete my PayPal account too.

I don’t generally use these letters for political rhetoric. That’s my point though – if we think of the right to free speech as being ‘political’ and therefore ‘partisan’ or ‘not polite conversation’ then we may be assured we’re not living in a truly free and civil society at all.

The right to, and the active support of, free speech is the singular line-in-the-sand which must never be crossed.

I hope that, whilst there is a possibility you may wholly disagree with what I have written here today, you will not only let me know but also stand up and defend my right to write it (with thanks to Voltaire).

Rachel x

Did Shakespeare have a certificate?

Tue, 04 Oct 2022 13:33:52 GMT

A riposte to my inferiority complex and imposter syndrome.

By the time this blog post, as the original email letter it is drops into my subscribers inboxes I will be on my way up to York for the Jericho Writers’ ‘Festival of Writing’ weekend. It is the first writing festival I have ever been to! It is in fact, to my teenage daughter’s absolute astonishment, the first festival of anything I have attended. I am not the festival-going type (three-day-old portable loos? No thanks), but this one is, of course, something that I am deeply interested in and love to do; writing! (It also has proper mains-drainage loos, I checked).

It feels like a watershed moment – I am excited. I am also scared.

This event is going to be full of highly experienced writers, people who will be extremely interesting and who will, no doubt, have lots of valuable tips and pointers which I will be able to incorporate into my habits and improve my writing craft (because I want to be the best writer what I can [sic]). Maybe, it will also be an opportunity to find a few more ‘writerly’ friends with whom I can share worries about sentence structure, plot pacing and character flaws.

That all sounds brilliant. But what if, in comparison to these publishing/authorly stars, I am thought to be unbelievably dull and old-fashioned? What if this event is subtly but wholly imbued with the doctrine that to be a ‘proper’ or ‘real’ writer one should really have bothered to obtain a certificate to prove that fact. Because horrors; I don’t have a certificate! In fact, I have very few certificates to my name, and it is, at times like these, when I am due to mix with ‘subject matter experts’, that my inferiority complex pops up and I get to wondering if I was wrong not to.

When I am not so worried about the mediocrity of my talent, I am firmer in my belief that certificates of most sorts aren’t the be-all-and-end-all of living a successful life successfully.

I have held this belief for most of my adult life. It is why I got myself a job after doing A-Levels, rather than go to university. In truth, I only stayed on for A-Levels because I was, at sixteen, too young to face the adult world of work. I needed those two extra years to grow-up a bit more. It is why I resisted all the ‘you should get an MBA’ influences that exist when one works in the tech/business consultancy roles, as I once did. Instead, I busied myself with the practise of practical business management and real-world systems implementation.

But this isn’t true for everyone. It is my own particular hoist for my own particular petard. And, clearly, I am not impervious to formal-education’s marketing – particularly as I attempt to attract a literary agent and traditional publisher. Because many of these individual’s will begin conversations by casually dropping in their first in an MA Creative Writing degree from Oxbridge. To be honest, I would do exactly that too if I have done that course and got that result! But I hear this and the inferiority complex voice inside goes, ‘ There you are! I told you! That’s what it takes to be taken seriously in publishing, you shouldn’t have started from where you did, you should have started over there instead ’. If I give this hopeless voice any power, it will definitely stop me doing what I want. It will make me think it is mandatory to have a qualification before I am allowed to put any more pens to paper!

Such a certificate may, for some, be the salve needed to shut the critical inferiority-complex voices up, at least a little. They are a tangible proof point that they deserve to be doing what they’re doing, permission to be allowed to. See; that right there - that’s when I get uneasy about the whole ‘formal education certification is best’ message.

My wise and lovely husband has a theory, regularly spoken of in our household, which is that everything worthwhile in life does *not* require a certificate. How to be a good person, for instance. How to love, and be loved, well – surely one of the greatest skillsets for a happy and fulfilling life – is something society does not educate any of us in, not in any formal sense at least.

When I feel overwhelmed and worried about how good my writing skills are or have my confidence abashed by the latest thing, my husband waits for me to get all the ‘ maybe I should… ’ mitherings said aloud, before he asks, “Did Shakespeare have a certificate in creative writing?”

It's a little glib, it could be accused of being a little simplistic, maybe. But I hear the truth in this question of his. Do you?

Because another personal truth worthy of acknowledgement is that I have learnt a tremendous amount of what to do, how to do it, when to start, when to finish, by just getting on and doing the actual thing itself. Yes, this means I do this publicly, my mistakes are visible. My first novel is out there and, in comparison to my eventual 100th novel should I live long enough to rack up that many stories, its inherent flaws, due to my ‘beginner’ status, will be painfully visible. But this is not necessarily a terrible thing, certainly not one I feel I ‘should’ be embarrassed about.

Maybe a bunch of people at this writers’ festival will indeed think me naïve and beyond-the-pale because of my uneducated, uncertificated skills. Equally though, I hope there will be many who celebrate the ‘can-do, will-do’ ethic I try to embody.

To which I draw my hypothesis thus – certificates and theory-test-results are useful tools and all part of the great mix of getting stuff in the world done, but they are by no means essential. I posset a great deal more may be learnt by performing the behaviour and living the actual experience itself. All the knowledge, all the skill and technique, all the heart and soul of my writing craft – it is all there inside me already. This is true for you and your talents too. Perhaps you need a course to find them, or to accelerate their uncovering, or perhaps, like me, you just need to get busy digging!

Rachel x

How do men love?

Wed, 24 Aug 2022 11:08:21 GMT

Questions my current manuscript asks...

My current work-in-progress manuscript is slowly turning into an exploration of what it feels like for a daughter to experience the absence of a father’s love.

As part of my authorly research – although this is perhaps too grand a statement for the intermittent happenings I conduct – I am about to read Bell Hook’s book on male love called The Will to Change . Bell’s book should help me see deeper into this topic, learn new angles and perspectives. This issue – how men love, how we need men to love us – I have come to see has intrigued me for a while, possibly my whole life.

I have a theory which is that I and many women fail to understand or accommodate men’s perspective on love. In Brené Brown’s book Daring Greatly she describes being approached by a man at one of her ‘vulnerability’ events. He asks why she doesn’t write about the male perspective on shame and vulnerability. Slightly flummoxed – and playing for time no doubt – she enquires why he asks this, to which, indicating over his shoulder to where his wife stands waiting for him, he says “My wife and daughters…they’d rather see me die on top of my white horse than watch me fall off. You say you want us to be vulnerable and real, but c’mon. You can’t stand it. It makes you sick to see us like that.” It knocked Brené back and it still feels extremely powerful to me too.

I was more of a ‘Daddy’s Girl’ when I was a kid, and in more recent times, when I have participated in guided meditation, shamanic journeying, the quality of the spirit I am honoured to encounter is undoubtedly male, significantly so – a representation of the elemental, ancient father figure for me, maybe?

In my adult life, I have had reason to be pissed off with men. For starters, I spent much of my corporate career being the singular ‘token’ woman on the team and therefore had to put up with lots of ‘male’ behaviour. Some of it, most of it, was innocuous and bounced off me without too much damage. Mostly it was the kind of ‘organisational’ issues that disadvantage a woman in subtle ways, occasionally though it was entirely personal; usually when I was saying something that endangered a particular man’s power-play, making him look bad. I have to admit; it made me pretty cynical and slightly bitter about men.

A bigger reason was the quality of my first marriage, by which I really mean my first husband’s ability to love. I have a friend who describes an individual’s manner and behaviour of loving as their ‘blueprint’. Some have a complex love-blueprint, full of intricate architectural details and superb plumbing. My then husband’s blueprint was more akin to a garden shed. Basic. Difficult to fit the stuff of life into, with dark spider infested corners and the occasional visiting rat. I’m taking the metaphor too far! But hopefully, you see my point; for whatever reason my first husband did not have the capacity to make me feel loved. For a long time, I thought that was because I didn’t deserve anything more. Because of the two decades I lived that marriage’s reality, I still don’t think I deserve to be loved. Although the last six or so years living with my second husband have begun to heal this, I wonder if I will ever rest easy in total confidence of this universal birth right.

Next on the list - I have a son who does not really speak to me anymore. I shall not attempt to tell his story, because frankly I don’t know it. When asked, I resort to bland platitudes such as ‘the marriage break-up impacted him,’ or ‘teenage boys prefer their fathers’. The plain truth might be that he just doesn’t like me very much. I mention this painful emotional wound only because it again raises the question in my heart – does my son actually love me? Is his behaviour down to male teenage hormones which by necessity drag the mother’s boy kicking and screaming out of his heart, or is it due, again, to my undeserving ‘love status’ from the men in my life?

Finally, I have an ailing father. As the inevitable comes closer, although I pray not for a long while yet, I face the prospect of losing the original source of male love in my life. As you can imagine, I am helpless. No matter how I attempt to prepare myself, I know it will be an emotional storm of considerable size and duration. I hope I’ll weather it with as much grace and capability as I can muster, but I’m doubtful.

These are the main reasons I explore what male love is, what it can be and what it means to both men and women.

It is perhaps why my first three books feature a character somewhat disappointing in his ability to love, despite being a massive success in all other areas of life. It is also why my current manuscript is about a middle-aged woman whose father died – swept out to sea on the night of her birth - so she has grown up without paternal love. It is why I have her meet an enigmatic man who has an uncanny ability to anticipate the riptides of her heart. He is not what you might at first expect him to be. I think he will heal her.

I think he has been healing me.

Dostoevsky said, “There is only one thing I dread; not to be worthy of my sufferings.” I hope this research and this story-writing help me become worthy of mine.

Rachel x

Birthday Celebrations

Tue, 02 Aug 2022 14:59:49 GMT

Words are my presents, one word in particular

July is my birthday month. To celebrate surviving another glorious spin around the sun I have decided to embrace the c-word.

Not that c-word! Tsk, tsk. No, the other c-word. Crone.

Apart from facing down the barrel of another birthday, what got me thinking about the word ‘crone’ was having to write an ‘Elevator Pitch’ for my latest work-in-progress. The pitch begins thus; ‘ This is a latter life, coming-of-age story. It is about a middle-aged woman who feels invisible, abandoned by her family, her wisdom considered irrelevant. It is her fiftieth birthday. She is going to do something she never does; go back to Slowden, her home village which was destroyed by the North Sea in one terrible stormy night – the night of her birth and her father's death… ”

I really wanted to describe this character as a crone, but knew if I did so, the literary and publishing types would be put off. So, I played safe, using more mainstream descriptions. But I feel sorry for ‘crone’. It has been given a pejorative meaning, like many other female adjectives. Should I call the average middle-to-late-age lady a crone they would probably think I was being extremely rude to them. And fair enough - our modern-day definition of the word is usually something like ‘a withered, witchlike old woman’. Synonym suggestions include ‘ugly’ and ‘hag’! Yeah, modern parlance has not been kind to crone. That’s sad, considering what it originally meant – a wise woman.

I’ve read somewhere that crone is derived from the old word for crown. I’m not sure if this etymology is correct, because it is hard to get past the modern definitions on Google to locate more ancient meanings, but it seems right. Because crone being linked to crown would couple it with the crown and crown-star chakra’s, through which deep connection to spirit is formed. The crone was thought to be within her most valuable phase of life – her child bearing and/or rearing days in her past, she was the keeper of deep knowledge.

It was apparently the Church in early medieval times which began to twist the original meaning of crone –because it feared the existence of wise women and the esteem in which communities held them. All new brooms have to sweep clean, and if the new religion was going to gain power, then the old ways had to be removed. This is not new under our sun. The same takeover of language can be seen in our world today; words and their meanings are very powerful, so if you can change this, you can change people’s behaviour and therefore societies’ norms (it’s one of the reasons I believe passionately in the right to free speech, but that’s a topic for another letter).

When I was young, my father often used to remark upon how women became much more powerful following the menopause (he also used to say he would always promote women because he knew they would work twice as hard as the men – a sort of feminism?). Anyway, nowadays, having got to the age I am, I am inclined to agree.

I believe there is honour and grace in ‘owning’ this latter phase of female life. Taking up the word crone is symbolic of an acceptance of that which awaits me. I am curious to discover how I sit within the world now, as opposed to when I was a mother of young children, as opposed to when I was younger still and had only myself to worry about. I am interested to find out how I will cope whilst travelling within this time, in a body which is undergoing another transformation – just as it did for my adolescence, my pregnancies and my postpartum months.

It will of course not be a big surprise that I am doing this, at least in part, by writing a story. It is of that fifty-year-old woman up there in the Elevator Pitch - a character with a difficult life behind her and an uncertain future in front of her. I’m really looking forward to seeing the lessons the character has to go through, because they might be the ones I am intended for too.

Thanks for reading.

Rachel x

An Update

Mon, 11 Jul 2022 11:13:34 GMT

Where I am and how you helped get me here.

I have been writing these blogs for just over two and half years now. I had to double check that figure because it seems like only yesterday when I held my breath and pressed publish on that very first one! I wasn’t sure that what I had to say was of any real interest. I wasn’t sure if I was up to the risk of ‘achieving’ high percentages of unopened/unread. To imagine I might be boring and then have it undoubtedly proven by the stats is a scary prospect!

Happily, on the whole those fears haven’t really materialised. I receive the occasional lovely comment and this more than compensates for my ongoing battle against my internal critic, who continually demands ‘ who do you think you are ?’ and insists ‘ nobody cares ’.

I write these letters as if I am speaking directly to you, as if we are sitting together with a cup of tea, chatting over the bigger issues of being human! I’m hoping at the very least, you find the five or ten minutes it takes to read these letters, interesting. Perhaps even engaging, or better yet; thought-provoking (because I love to provoke and be provoked in this way).

These letters are a microcosm of what it takes to write my novels. I go through the same doubts and fears, the same recurring realisation that with every target met there is another scarier one waiting for me, meaning I have to start again, reset and go through all the mithering ‘ so what, who cares, do I even know where I’m going with this ?’ worry.

If you’ve been paying attention to the P.S.’s that I leave at the bottom of these letters, you will have picked up on the fact that I have initiated a change of direction in my authorial career – I am seeking a literary agent who will in turn, hopefully, help me find a traditional book publisher. This is after having self-published three novels which have seen a decent level of success (at least by the goals and KPI’s that I defined as ‘successful’).

So why the change of direction? Well, I’m writing more ‘mainstream’ stories for one thing. But mainly, I got to the point where I can’t do it all on my own – I need help. Being traditionally published means more people are involved in conjuring the magic a book is.

It's a big step for me – scary and, yet again, filled with lots of ‘ what the bejoobles do I think I am doing ?’ moments. It might not come off. I might fail – the odds of achieving this are astronomically against me. The target might always be just out of my reach because I can’t think up a story that is ‘commercial’ enough for the publishing bean-counters to risk investment in or because my prose is sub-standard, or my characters too flat and implausible. I just don’t know.

I do know that I am doing it despite all of the above!

I also know, if you guys are happy to stick around, then I promise I will let you know how I am getting on and maybe in some large way, having you to talk to will help me feel that this risky, heartrending toil is worthwhile. Because isn’t the work of creating something what we all do and isn’t it the biggest identifier of being human?

Thank you for reading!

Rachel x

Journeys

Thu, 16 Jun 2022 14:34:15 GMT

Beginnings, middles and points.

I’m going on a journey.

As I begin, the air is fresh with a new warmth. It makes me recall summer days and easy moments. I feel lifted, hopeful at this sign of better things and the excitement of what is ahead; the new things I will see as I travel, the good lessons I will learn and, of course, the triumphant arrival at my destination. I feel some level of fear too – the unknown does, after all, harbour the possibilities of difficulty, possibly danger, but I am disinclined to dwell on those. I put my foot forward, take the first of what I know will be many steps and head off towards my intended goal, head high, muscles strong.

Now, I am roughly halfway through the expedition. The weather is turning. Clouds pillow, their bulk blocking out the warmth of the sun, the breeze turning uncomfortably cool and strengthening towards a harsher push upon me. I feel it is a portent. My legs ache and there’s that particular pain which means the skin on my left heel is succumbing to friction. I begin to doubt the preparation I conducted. Perhaps I should have spent more time checking, asking, practising. The map confirms what I already know – I am too far from home to make turning back a sensible option. There’s a growl from behind me, a rustle in the undergrowth; wildlife which I should not be surprised about, but still, the absolute proof they exist, up close to me like this, is a shock. Doubt seeps, like black ink on blotting paper, and I say to myself ‘you were foolish to think you have the talent or the abilities to succeed on such a journey as this; who do you think you are?’

‘Quite!’ I answer. What have I done? What am I doing this for? Why did I put myself into this difficulty? Why did I think I could mimic the footsteps of giants? I recall my hopeful start, how full of excitement my heart was, how confident. The memories mock me and I am defeated. So, I sit down on the trail. Stop, even though I know I can’t stay here in no-man’s land forever - some kind of action or decision is needed. But, underneath my panicky heart, I am at a loss to come up with anything other than this – to sit upon the solidity of earth.

It does occur to me to do something practical, simple – check on my heel, apply one of the plasters I know I packed. Take a drink. Breathe. Look up at the sky and assess whether the waterproof I also packed is needed. As I do, I remember why I chose this journey, this destination. Not for the celebratory hoopla and parties, but for the knowledge I achieved my aim. I goad myself with ‘so what, who cares?’ and agree; probably no one. But – and this is what gets me back up, to take another step – when I reach this destination, it will be apparent where I am supposed to go next.

This, folks, is one of the meanings of life. It is also a metaphor for every single big, hairy, audacious target I have ever set myself; fun at the beginning, scary as hell halfway through, requiring me to dig deep for strength and tenacity I always fear I do not have, gritting my teeth to pull forth the original urge which compelled me to dare.

It is a metaphor for my current quest to secure a literary agent. It is a metaphor for my pursuit to be a better writer – I want to write the truest sentence I have ever written, and then follow that up with an even truer one, and so on, and so on, until somebody recognises that truth and takes it up as their own.

In the meantime, has anyone got any blister cream?

Rachel x

Turning Corners...

Fri, 29 Apr 2022 14:38:33 GMT

...sanctuary, peace and love and how to find them.

Out walking the other day, I came upon a particular place; a cottage set on a gentle slope. Behind its soft, red-brick construction, there was a rise of woods, standing as a protective barrier, keeping out the rest of the world. In front, was a garden of graceful composure, a beautiful wilderness balanced by a talented gardener’s order, their orchestration of mother nature held a masterful lightness.

Beyond the garden, where the footpath dissected the land, was a wide body of water, a river estuary, deep and blue, moving under the influence of powerful currents. It was frankly idyllic and it made my heart ache – an actual, uncomfortable, physical sensation. I yearned to belong to this sanctuary. To exist within its peace and safety.

It made me realise how consistently I live within a defensive fight mode. It made me see again the tension I hold my heart under. The mistrust I shroud myself in, the tight grip of control I maintain. It made me realise how hard it is for me to believe in love – really believe in it. To relax and surrender.

There are many ‘rational’ reasons I have for this lack of belief – one would only have to read my back story, illuminated in some small way by these letters and, to a certain extent, the stories I have published and hope to publish. I don’t want this piece to be an analysis of those reasons. I want to ponder how easy it is to forget that such places of luxurious surrender do exist - and how stupid I am when I forget I have constant access to them - that I haven’t lost the key.

The tranquillity of this cottage is an echo of myself. The experience is already within the space of me. Waiting for me to remember. The key to access it is compassion and tolerance, for myself, mainly. I say horrible words, do hurtful things, make mistakes large and small. I also do the exact opposite too – I create beautiful moments, say delightful words, do loving actions and manage to be just what I need to be in the world to make those around me feel better for it. But it is my failures which hug closer, my mistakes which more readily haunt me and cause my tension.

So much righteous morality swirls around the world. So much heated outrage. So many shocked, hurt feelings, quickly followed by taking sides and, especially nowadays, highly-publicised virtue-signalling of which ‘team’ has been chosen. Queuing up on these battlelines, we posture our ‘rightness’ versus their ‘wrongness’ and hand out condemnation, whilst mirroring behaviours which got us all heated up in the first place. One polarised opinion goes to war with the opposite polarisation, both parties only finding agreement in there being absolutely no possibility of any colours existing other than ‘black’ and ‘white’.

That cottage was not flat black and white. It was rich with colour, with texture, complexity and hidden secrets. My heart’s experience of it could not be simply defined. It was a place of beauty and longing, and that experience was painful. Heart-aching. Think about that. It was the ache of it which woke me up to the possibility of there being a message within it. I have taken time to consider this. I think I am meant to be more mindful, each day, of my tendency to punish myself for the pain of my history. But also, that I may easily access the experience of sanctuary - of love and safety.

I need to look into the detail, the difficulty, the confusion, and breathe, gather enough courage to calm myself. Look past the pain and my reflexive need to be ‘right’ and them to be ‘wrong’. That’s the message that turning that particular corner on my walk and seeing that cottage laid out before me had. Writing this letter to you may allow me to be better at remembering this.

Rachel x

Random Rules...

Wed, 16 Mar 2022 11:41:25 GMT

...for a good life.

As a result of my letter to you last month I had a few comments about my ‘rule’ not to just be safe but to be fierce and brave too (thank you to those who hit ‘reply’). It got me thinking about the other ‘sayings’ that I am famous for within the house. When I say ‘famous’ I mean I annoy my teenage daughter with - there’s nothing more validating than a teenage-girl’s eye roll!

So, I thought for this letter I would write them up and offer them for your delectation:

The four rules of life: I got this from a book on change management I read back in the late nineties. I can remember nothing else about this book except for these four rules. I have quoted them incessantly ever since:

· Rule 1 – Turn up.

· Rule 2 – Be present.

· Rule 3 – Speak your truth.

· Rule 4 – Let it go (this is the hardest one, but arguably the most important).

There’s a fifth rule which I have, in recent years, appended to this which is ‘do no unnecessary harm’.

On the topic of dating and finding love : My daughter often reels out long lists of requirements for her ‘type’. Unsurprisingly, it is mainly about their look, fashion choices and physical attributes. Hey, I was teenage once, I think. I must have done this too. I am now old enough to know that true love and the best people in your life very often do not always ‘look’ the way you figured they would. So, I remind my daughter that the following rules should be her first consideration – if a person fulfils these but doesn’t have the ‘right’ eye-colour or isn’t a certain height, or doesn’t wear the right type of jeans, then maybe don’t summarily dismiss them:

· Rule 1 – they must be kind and make you laugh and on the whole feel happily childlike when in their presence.

· Rule 2 – they must be clean, thereby demonstrating an important level of self-respect.

· Rule 3 – when drunk, they must demonstrate a happy, chilled out attitude (angry drunks should be avoided in my humble experience).

On the topic of finding a job you like doing: My thoughts on how to be a useful person in society:

· Rule 1 – get started on something, anything rather than waiting. It might not be the correct path for you in the long term, but the act of taking a step forward will have, at the very least, informed you of this more than if you had stood still. Look up Goethe’s “Boldness has genius” – it’s the same intent.

· Rule 2 – Figure out what will make the other person feel better/less anxious and (if it is within your power) do it. In interviews, in our day-to-day jobs, we are asked to make the whole enterprise less risky and anxious. The job advert is basically saying “please help” – so prove you can be as helpful in as many useful ways as possible. Sounds stupidly simple, but it is surprising how easy it is to forget that being helpful to our fellow man is one of the best ways to rise in status and achieve success (no matter what your definition of success is).

· Rule 3 – Discipline is your friend. Be responsible and reliable. This rule applies to more than ‘just’ what you do to pay your bills of course. When I was working as a stable-girl in my local riding stables, mucking out the horses and sweeping up the yard were jobs no one liked doing, but were wholly necessary to the smooth running of the place. If you wanted the prize – the fun and excitement – of riding a horse, then you had to first clean up all the mess said horse created! The more pride I took in doing a great job of mucking-out the stable – being efficient and tidy – the more I enjoyed my riding. I felt I had really earned the privilege. I feel that way about my writing work now – the harder I work on getting the ‘drudge’ work of writing books done, the more I enjoy the rarer moments of success and validation.

Just two more rules (for now) that I would like to leave you with:

· Me First. This was one I learnt too late in my life, I think, but better late than never. ‘Me First’ has significant spiritual aspects and needs to be thought about deeply. It is not a reason to be selfish! It is a reminder to feed ourselves sufficiently in order to be more capable of feeding others. Being a beast of duty and burden, a martyr to others feelings or wishes does not make the world a better place, or your soul more enlightened. If you don’t learn to first be of service to yourself, to love yourself, then how can you love others? Don’t ever be afraid to stand up and put yourself first.

· Keep It Small . Life can sometimes feel overwhelming and just too much. It is easy to succumb to feelings of doubt and pointlessness. I have found the best antidote to this is to keep it all really, really small. Just aim to do one thing towards your big-scary-goal today. Or promise yourself just five minutes spent on that difficult task you’ve been avoiding. Don’t dismiss this as being too trite or unoriginal. Regular, consistent movement will take you much, much further than you could ever imagine at the start.

I hope you enjoyed reading these. Believe me, I have more! But like all advice, you are under no obligation to take any notice. Perhaps take what you find to be useful and discard everything else, yeah? Oh look, that’s another good rule in life!

Rachel x

Difficult Times...

Fri, 25 Feb 2022 16:17:52 GMT

...fierce outcomes.

Here we are at the beginning of February, a month which I love for no other reason than its blessed shortness. After the long, long weeks of January, February feels like a fast-forward, delivering me from the drudge winter months to the more hopeful spring ones. This year though, I feel in much less of a rush to dash forward. I am more inclined to pause a while and take the chance to look backwards.

This time two years ago I did not know what that particular month of March 2020 would bring with it. It has been a difficult time to exist through. I can only speak with authority for my own experience; for me it has been two years of confronting some uncomfortable realities of who I am, what kind of person I am, what I can and cannot bear. I have seen close up the sacrifices my values ask me to make and understood the pain of them. I am much clearer too on what kind of punishment might be meted out to me because of those beliefs and values. It is not so much an intellectual exercise in my life as this sort of navel-gazing once was. It has been an unedifying couple of years in terms of having it demonstrated beyond any doubt what others in my life are prepared to sacrifice too (in some cases, I am the sacrifice).

Still, I am one of the luckier ones, by a very long shot. Yet, the net outcome of the past two years feels, in certain areas at least, a negative one. I have lost something, probably just a naivety that deserved to be burned away at some point in my life – maybe it would have been removed by the mere act of my getting older day by day. Nevertheless, something of my carefreeness has been deleted. I wonder if I shall ever recover it?

I continue to hope for less oppressive times to come around. All things pass, after all. I hope this mainly for my children, but also for myself. I’m tired and worn and I would like more opportunities to laugh and smile, outside of what I do with the two people I live with (three, if you count the dog, which come to think of it, I certainly do).

Two years ago, I was penning one of these letters on the topic of human nature’s constant and casual hypocrisy - how some things in society were obsessed over whilst others were batted away with a ‘who cares’ attitude. I had picked a couple of examples; the number of people in the world who starve to death each year and also the number of American children who are killed by gunshot wounds as two examples of ways to die that our so-called civil societies tolerate without much of a murmur, day to day. Then March 2020 arrived and I chickened out of publishing it, thinking it would wait a month or so until ‘easier’ times were upon us. Two years later, I’m wondering what that says about who I really am and whether I am living up to who I hoped I would be when I decided to return to this material life on this spinning rock.

“Stay safe” is something I always used to say to my kids as I waved them off to school. It was only ever really meant to make myself feel better about letting them go. Then the whole world started chanting it, and I don’t like it so much anymore.

I think it might be better overall to wish them and myself to be brave and fierce instead.

Rachel x

Resolve to do little...

Mon, 31 Jan 2022 17:17:51 GMT

...and do this often.

It’s January and I’m going to take a fairly safe bet that your inbox and social media timeline is full of ‘new year, new you’ type motivational posts. Perhaps you are like me and you find this idea both enticing and awful! I mean, yes, it is a new calendar year, but here in the UK, January is often the coldest month, and definitely the darkest month of the year! Not the easiest time to be making radical changes.

I do however have a perennial resolution that this influx always reminds me of; keep it small.

Tiny. Fractional. Minute.

This is how I write my books. Every day, I have to dig deep for the courage and belief to write. I make it so much easier on myself by framing this in tiny requests. Such as, ‘just write five-hundred words, Rachel’. Or even, “just write for ten-minutes”. Perhaps some days I am forced to ask myself for just a single sentence. By promising myself I will turn-up daily to these tiny-goals I have written four books so far (and am planning my fifth novel).

There is magic in this approach – it is amazing how much more I end up doing when I’ve given myself permission to ‘just’ complete the small-goal. It’s a psych-op ‘nudge’ of myself – a total trick (well, if it is good enough for the politicians…). Nine out of ten times when I have asked of myself ‘just five-hundred words’ I have written three times more than that. On the days when I do just five-hundred, well then, I’ve no reason to feel bad about my progress; I did exactly what I set out to do.

I apply this approach to all aspects of my life – all the household chores, the admin, even the self-care which I always feel guilty indulging in! It is amazing how much it is possible for me to complete in 10 minutes and how more peaceful I feel afterwards!

And on this theme, I am keeping this letter to you shorter than my habitual monthly musing. I am sure you will thank me, especially as you’ll be able to use the ‘extra’ five-minutes to great effect.

Rachel x

Wonderful Wondering

Tue, 14 Dec 2021 16:28:52 GMT

The wonder of wonder.

It’s that particular time – you know; ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, when everyone is allowed, positively encouraged, to indulge in wonderment. To revel in the beauty of sparkly lights, the joy of company, the chance for treats and indulgences. Also, a time to consider what we each mean to one another, and the purpose of our being placed, for a whole lifetime, onto this spectacular spinning rock in a mind-boggling universe of vast galaxies and twinkling stars.

I love the festive period for all of the above reasons - it is also a great excuse for a hugely overextravagant cheese board!

I love it because of how I am allowed to spend more time wondering about things. I always need to do more of this.

I have been reminded about this from a number of sources recently. Firstly, I saw a cartoon which depicted two people looking at a beautiful piece of art, with one saying to the other “I didn’t ask you what it meant, I said ‘I wonder what it means’.” I love the lesson in this single sentence story!

The other source was in a book which at first-glance you might not initially think of as having any sense of wonderment or amazement to it; a book called “Die Wise” by Stephen Jenkinson. It is about death, exploring how one might approach a good death, a wise death, a manner of dying that enriches one’s life and those who one will leave behind. It is a scary book; it is a heart-achingly beautiful book. It talks about the wonderfulness of wonder. It asks us to think more of our lives than most of us regularly do. It asks us to be quieter, to gather together and to look up and around us more often. To stand and wonder and bear witness, acknowledge our experiences in the many, tiny and soul-changing micro-wonderments available to us.

These are my words, my interpretation of Stephen Jenkinson’s work, and when I type them, I get in touch with the spaces of my heart – where joy and happiness and contentment reside. These places; I sense they are where the truth of who I am and what I am supposed to be doing in this lifetime may be found – if I take time and attention to wonder and listen.

I have not always taken the time to wonder. Often, I have acted in line with my training – the schooling of our society teaches from an early age to use willpower and effort to ‘punch through’ and make stuff happen. To rely upon intellect, rather than instinct. I was distinctly uncomfortable with ‘unknowns’ and sought to understand everything – to get rid of doubt in order to feel more in control.

In these times I convinced myself that everyone else already did know it all, that their words were absolute truth and should be followed. It made me feel like I had to work harder, be stronger, be better, win the fight (even if I couldn’t explain what the fight was for).

When I couldn’t find an explanation, I was tempted to dismiss or deny the ‘unknown’ thing, because it seemed safer to do this than to acknowledge the alternative; that there are some things which will always remain unknowable.

Nowadays, I don’t fall into this trap so much. I have realised there is a difference between ‘knowing it all’, and ‘constantly seeking deeper truths’. Stephen Jenkinson writes eloquently on this matter. He talks about our modern world’s obsession with material knowledge and challenges this – asking if always finding an answer to the mysteries of the world is healthy for us. For instance, he says, “Resolving mystery is like dissecting someone you love to find out how they got so loveable.” You would obviously kill your loved one if you did this – so what other wonderful, mysterious things, do we inadvertently destroy by tirelessly hunting them down?

Here’s another quote for you – Socractes said “Wisdom begins in wonder.” Which I think is a reminder that being curious, wondering about our existence and seeking deeper meaning is how our souls grow – but only if we are content to remain in partial doubt and never be wholly certain.

Many of the great mystic traditions refer to God, or the creator, as being nameless and unknowable, and should I ever think I have reached the point of knowing him, I have, by definition, not. I may have experienced an emanation or result of God, but this does not mean I know God. My wondering, and seeking, should be unending.

Wondering about stuff is what enables me to write my books – I don’t think it is any coincidence that I began writing my first book at a time when I was experiencing the beginning of a great and deep love with a person who gave me permission to wonder, to ask questions I had previously been too scared to whisper, even to myself during dark solitary evenings. A love with a person who stood beside me back then in those early days and witnessed me and, happily, continues to do so.

The fact that my first book focussed on death and dying as the main experience of the main character is also entirely bound up with my embracing of wondering – for love and death are very closely coupled. If that statement gets you to wondering then perhaps you might consider reading “Die Wise” and if you do, well I would be honoured to witness your experience of it.

In the meantime, though, I hope you have an entirely wonder-full festive time with the absolute best of the seasons’ magic.

Look up and wonder with me.

Rachel x

I'm giving up being polite.

Tue, 16 Nov 2021 16:34:15 GMT

...where will it take me?

I’m giving up being polite – where will it take me?

Excuse me, if you will. Might I trouble you for some attention? Why thank you: I think that I have had enough of being polite.

A slavery to politeness may be at the heart of what has been most rotten in my life and, therefore, I am tempted to extrapolate, in society at large.

I have recently read some of the great Russian writers in a book written by George Saunders. Mr Saunders is a professor at Syracuse University. His book uses a selection of short stories written by the likes of Tolstoy, Chekov, Turgenev and Gogol to analyse the act of reading – and therefore good writing (I am reading it for the purpose of improving my skill). It is a great book in and of itself, but especially because it provides enlightenment as to the meaning behind the Russian classics, something that isn’t that easy to achieve - I’ve started but not finished Dostoevsky’s ‘The Idiot’, seven years on and have never read any of the others. Until, now.

I admit, I hadn’t even heard of Gogol and his short story ‘The Nose’ which is a particularly obtuse and absurd story, but worth the effort to read. Not least, for its lessons on politeness and how we can use it to distance ourselves, prevent others (and ourselves) from speaking important truths, use it to deny and ignore uncomfortable realities.

As I gather more days-past than may lie in front, I have a growing impatience with politeness. When I have been a particular stickler for the politeness of an acceptable way of being, I have lost out. I have lost myself.

I am speaking of the superficial aspect of politeness. Politeness that is actually a brush-off, an avoidance of more difficult truths and realities. Of politeness that squashes, with a tight smile, life’s high emotions that threaten and disrupt. I’m talking of politeness that is directly attached to a person’s desire to maintain their status in the eyes of others. Politeness that shrugs, indifferent. Politeness that pats another on their shoulder, simpering ‘ yes, friend. I don’t understand it either, but it is what those in charge have ordered so, what am I to do ?’

I am speaking of my own slavery to politeness; I remained in situations where I was caused to suffer, to become less than I was capable of, because to speak up meant I was judged ‘difficult’, making others uncomfortable. I understood that to be impolite, by their definition, would mean rejection. So, I stayed in a failing and unhappy – but outwardly civil – marriage for years longer than I probably should have. I definitely did that because of my training to be polite, to not cause unpleasant scenes.

I have sat in business meetings and put up with overt ridicule and unfairness, suffered oblique sexism and the like, smiling politely because I thought anything else risked being thought of as difficult, over-emotional or unsophisticated.

Those years, and those examples, when I look back at them now - when a story, such as Gogol’s ‘The Nose’ supplies a character whose experience, bizarre though it is, seems familiar – I see how compellingly easy it is to be swallowed up and lessened by this form of politeness.

Because, if you reach out in your suffering to others but they refuse to react, if they remain locked behind a polite, neutral compassion, nil-response kind of civility, then it can be really difficult to keep believing that your perspective – the pain or fear you are feeling – is valid.

Everyone of importance around me, back then, was passive. I ended up thinking that I was wrong to complain about my marriage. I had come to accept my lack of joy and happiness within that relationship as ‘normal’. I had accepted my lot, given up on the notion of rebellion even before it had time to catch light. I snuffed it out with a dullness I believed was all I was meant for. I was of course sad, often peevish. I indulged in passive aggressive behaviour. Ironically, because I was so hushed-up I sometimes became distinctly impolite in the privacy of my own home – I was snide, bitchy and unnecessarily sharp. These short-lived, flaccid uprisings were performed in the context of a long-learned habit of obedience to avoid being difficult. I see now how foolish I was.

So yeah, I think politeness (or if you like, toeing the line, or doing the ‘right’ thing, or buying into the lie of the ‘mainstream’, or listening to conversations that begin with ‘everyone else is doing…’) can lead you deeply astray.

“For evil to succeed, good men may merely do nothing.” The doing nothing part isn’t always down to laziness or even ignorance. It is often due to the curse of politeness. People who, in tiny instants of time, didn’t want to appear impolite, didn’t want to stand out from the crowd and be tutted at. Deborah Eisenberg, writing about Gregor von Rezzori’s ‘Memoirs of an Anti-Semite’ uses the phrase ‘Passive People’ and lists their sins as ‘carelessness, poor logic, casual snobbery (social or intellectual) and inattentiveness’.

I have committed all of these crimes against myself, and others. I have also allowed myself to be surrounded by others who acted in such a manner. It is very common. Evil does not wear a vile-mask and gleefully rub its hands in a vaudevillian manner. Nastiness and unpleasantness more often occur in the hearts of people who believe they are acting for the greater good, by people who believe it is important to accommodate unquestioningly those who appear to be in positions of authority, by people who are blind to certain perspectives or angles, by people who have decided, for whatever reason, to stop seeking further knowledge, consider alternative perspectives. People like me. People like you.

We all construct our sense of reality through the filter of our thoughts and beliefs. It is why stories are important – they validate our beliefs. They challenge too. They provide safe ways in which we may test how brave we are, how ready we may be to take a stance, to change some of those thoughts and habits.

What to make of this? Nothing really, I suppose. What do you make of it? What do you think?

For me? Well, I hear the voice of a new character – a woman who appears to be a paragon of politeness to the outside world but who indulges in disturbing acts of ‘correction’ of those she believes to be wrong, driven by a particular reason to be angry. I am curious to follow her, see what consequences await.

I’ll be sure to let you know where we end up.

Rachel x

Painters vs Authors

Mon, 25 Oct 2021 08:20:56 GMT

...how does the grass grow?

Ah, to be a painter!

I hold artists who paint or draw (let’s call them ‘painters’) in very high regard. I often wish that I was a painter rather than an author.

At the risk of offending the painters amongst you - I think being a painter is simpler than being an author.

I don’t mean that painting a great work of art is easy by any measure. I do mean I think it is easier than writing a great work of literature. This is what the painter’s grass looks like to me from my side of the fence.

I will explain.

It seems to me those lucky painters can see something of the world about them and with great skill (for sure, acquired over many years and many hours of effort) create a piece of art within an afternoon, or a day. Perhaps the most detailed amongst them will take a few months. At each pause during the creation, they have only to take one or two steps back to review their progress. And, when they do, they can see all of it – that is they can see the whole picture right there in front of them, visible in all its brilliance and its weaknesses. To hone in on the things that need improving takes a matter of seconds to identify, albeit that the decision about how to resolve such areas may take more time to deliberate over.

Once they are satisfied they have finished the piece it is immediately present, it already exists. It needs no further production for it to be possible for others to see it – it is apparent upon its canvas (although I accept that to gain a place in a gallery is no easy feat). When the viewing public see the work of art, it is an easy thing for them to partake of its beauty – they simply stand and look and consider. For the vast majority of us, this consideration of art is an instinctive act. We either immediately like it or we do not. Yes, there are art critics and art connoisseurs who will turn this instinct into convoluted conversations about intent, style, taste as well as the innate talent and technique of the artist. But on the whole, the general art buying public experiences a quick, heartfelt reaction, one that often denies explanation and in any case isn’t generally expected of an art buyer (‘What did you think of that painting?’ is not a question generally asked of an art purchaser).

For some painters, selling an original piece of art represents a well-deserved three or four figure sum – more for the rock-star artists of course - for the one piece, with rights retained to sell prints in volume thereafter. It is possible therefore for the artistic creation of a single piece to net a good return in a single transaction.

So, there it is, my admittedly narrow and single-sided viewpoint of a painter’s lot in life!

I shall now treat you to a comparison with what it is like to be an author; to be me!

It takes me approximately a year to take an idea I have for a story and craft it into a finished product; a book. I have no chance of crafting a book from first typed word to on the shop shelf in anything less than this. Twelve months minimum then from beginning to end – certainly not a week or a day, or an afternoon for those virtuosos of paint.

In order to review my creation, I have no option but to read the thing, and this process is not a matter of merely pausing and considering. It takes hours to read the books I write (yes, I could write shorter stories to ‘help’ myself here – but you get my point). After these revising hours, there are the inevitable changes to be made, and then further reviews – all of which require similar time periods. It can take me three weeks to perform one full end to end edit of a book, and I have to repeat this process at least three times. Then, once I am satisfied I have polished it to the best of my ability, it is a professional necessity to hand the piece to someone else to review. This third-party-edit and proofread is done for lots of great-craft reasons, not least of which is that it becomes nigh on impossible to judge the merits of the manuscript objectively. As the author, I obviously know the feel of my story, the flow of it, the sense of its place and themes, but I am still standing amongst the trees rather than being able to stand back and view the forest as a whole. In short – it’s not always that easy to spot where the ‘bad brushstrokes’ are (to use a painterly metaphor if I may).

Once I am finally finished – the story is complete, polished and at its shiniest self, edited to grand-efficiency and poignancy of tale – I am still reliant on a number of other people in order to produce the final product. A book cover designer is needed, for instance, in order to make my product visible and attractive; a laser-printed, string bound bundle of A4 pages isn’t going to cut the mustard with the book buying public now, is it?

Now I come to the consumers appreciation of my book.

As it did for me during the process of creation, it will take any reader of my book quite a few hours to consume (probably about eleven if the audiobook conversions are a good indicator of average reading speed). Of course, this hardly ever takes place in one sitting. So, in reality it can take many weeks for someone to read and appreciate my creation. And having done so, there is a societal consensus that to discuss the book, criticise it or otherwise is valid for every reader to enter in to. This is why so many book clubs exist – we love to share our opinions of books. There is also a commonly held viewpoint that we all have a book or a story to tell, leading some readers to have, how shall I put it, an unproven confidence about how much better they would have written my book’s story.

Finally, an author’s income is based on a fairly low price per transaction of the product.

Yes, it’s possible to make oodles of money being an author, but only if you manage to move big numbers of the product. By the time all of the other guys involved in placing your book in the virtual, or otherwise, bookshop window have taken their cut, it’s pennies per book sale that I, the author, receive.

So poor dumb me, yeah? No, not really.

Like I said, I am in awe of painters. I’m only indulging in a bit of green grass gazing over the fence. And I’m only really in the mood to do this when I am on the precipice of the creation of another ‘product’ of mine. My fourth book was begun in January 2021. I finished the first draft in June 2021. I am about to begin the first edit and know that there is a lot more ground to hike through. This journey will involve traversing painful, rutted landscapes which will cause me to stumble and curse and wonder what the hell I am doing.

Hence this, my ode to and admiration for painterly artists and all of the positives that I choose to perceive of their particular world, versus my own.

Perhaps the painters amongst you will hit the reply button and enlighten me with the more prosaic aspects of your creative world. I would be fascinated to know, but, at the same time, slightly disappointed not to have some ‘green grass’ beyond the fence to gaze at and be envious of when I am mired in the trenches of my own authorial back yard!

Rachel x

Jellyfish in the River Stour

Mon, 06 Sep 2021 09:05:32 GMT

... an essay on virtue and fear

It was a lovely summers morning. I sipped my tea, flicking absentmindedly through my social media timeline, mainly considering the opportunity the weather gave me to take myself and the teenager off to the beach for a swim. Until that is, my eye snagged on an influencer’s photo of a jellyfish with the caption, artfully slashed across it, announcing; “Watch out swimmers, there are stinging jellyfish in the Stour!!!”

The exclamations were hers, not mine – I mistrust multiple exclamation marks - nevertheless, not only was my eye snagged, so was my fear.

I don’t like jellyfish, especially those of the stinging variety. I’m going to make a safe guess that you aren’t that fond of the critters either. I began to reconsider my swimming plans as my imagination insisted I live through the pain of a sting and the icky feeling of a sub-aqua presence touching my ankle, as if it was happening right there, at my kitchen table.

And then I realised I was being ridiculous.

I was fearful of something that hadn’t happened, which, indeed, might not happen. There *may* be jellyfish in the River Stour now, as you’re reading this. There were clearly jellyfish in the river when this oh-so-helpful lady thought she would issue her public service announcement. But that doesn’t mean they are everywhere in the Stour and there all of the time. It also doesn’t necessarily mean that there are jellyfish in the water just around and up the coast, where I was thinking of going swimming.

We went to the beach despite, or in spite of, that lady’s virtuous warning signal, and swam happily, without any jellyfish jostling.

It was a good reminder for me.

I believe what can start out as a helpful intention to warn or inform others – an act of public worthiness and obsequious citizenship - often ends in being a plain old mongering of fear. I also believe we all do this, usually inadvertently, because modern technology enables us far too much. Just because we can, doesn’t mean we should.

Yes, I know, these kinds of things aren’t intended to spread fear as their primary objective. It is meant as a helpful passing on of information. Such human kindness back in the days when the reach of that warning would be one to one, or maybe one to five or even one to twenty was definitely a good thing. But now we can broadcast our warnings to thousands in a quick click. Sometimes that’s useful, but I contend that most times it is adding to the anxiety levels of everyone else, encumbering and restricting their lives.

I don’t believe the human psyche has kept track with our technological developments and the dissemination rate of so much information these have delivered upon us. All of the doom and gloom opinions, the advance warnings of dire things that might happen, the reportage of atrocities and disasters that we live-stream night and day from the other side of the world, whilst we sit helpless with our impotent compassion for the unknown and unknowable victims is actually, I believe, a terrible kind of tyranny.

In the past, news like this, was knowledge our ancestors had time to process – information trickled slowly, was necessarily written in the past tense and so felt less imminent and threatening. The focus of our forefathers’ daily attention existed on a more human scale – the people they knew, the places they could walk to (or ride a horse to). The problems and threats people faced were no less troublesome than present-day ones. Life was much less safe back then (just consider infant mortality and childbirth death rates for instance), but history does not reveal levels of fear and anxiety in the populace the way we, in the here and now, seem to suffer from.

Yes, some of this is down to progress – a greater willingness to recognise and be open about our emotions, but my theory is that my levels of fear and anxiety are down to an overload of ‘helpful’ warnings – such as the ‘jellyfish’ one. I’m going to add to that list not very well thought out or justified warnings too.

Many of the mystic and spiritual schools encourage a practice and discipline of some form of meditation; taking the time to be still, quiet and focus on our own presence. My take on this is probably much the same as yours – that having the skill to be present to one’s own perception, at all levels of that (our objective faculties and deeper to our innate connection with spirit) – is to remove ourselves from the grip of fear and anxiety. This is because, despite the many ‘dangerous’ possibilities of life, all of us are, in any single moment, free of danger and safe. Yes, even those of us who are passing from this life to what awaits beyond. If we were to recognise this and live this truth, we might find that much of our fear-driven societal behaviour would dissolve away.

This is my belief. This is my public service announcement to the world. This is why I counsel myself to take each dire warning and reportage of potential pain or upset with a good dose of pragmatism. This is why I work to trust my own instincts, my own perception and experiences and allow myself the gift of putting that above everyone else’s commentary. It’s tough work of course. I often fail and have to relearn. It is, I think, valuable effort nonetheless.

So next time you’re subjected to a similar “Jellyfish in the Stour” announcement by somebody, or some organisation, purporting to ‘just be helpful’, take a few moments and ask yourself some critical questions.

You might find you live a freer life because of it.

Rachel x

Reasons, Seasons or Lifetime?

Mon, 09 Aug 2021 16:43:14 GMT

Only one relationship lasts for your lifetime...

I have been considering the relationships I have had - thinking of those people and which of them walk with me in my present-day life. It is not always true that family relationships are the permanent ones.

Many of my relationships one might reasonably have thought to be ‘lifetime-long’ have turned out to be anything but. I mean relationships with one’s siblings for sure, one’s parents for another. Even one’s spouse and perhaps even one’s children.

People who have been extremely important to me at certain times in my life are now remote. Friends more regularly arrive and depart. As the saying goes, people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. The maths of this is ‘many for a reason, fewer for a season and fewer still for a lifetime’.

I have many acquaintances. I have very few friends. I am possibly strange in this. Perhaps it is my readiness to define friends versus acquaintances that is my strangeness. Perhaps it is my writing it down, speaking it aloud that marks me out as being unusual.

I have family, of course, but all of them are remote from my day-to-day existence. I find it easy to go a year or so without speaking to some of them. More than this in some cases; my twin sister and I have probably spent very little time talking to one another over the passage of twenty years or so – if I had to add up the combined time I would be surprised if it came to more than a single hour.

My parents too have fallen into a remoteness. My father suffers from Parkinsons; this and his natural dislike of the telephone means that proactive conversation from him is very rare. It was always a bit of an in-joke that if Dad was phoning, it meant I was already in trouble or there was trouble heading my way! My mother too does not reach out. She is perhaps in the phase of her life where she feels it is an interruption to my life if she phones. More likely, it is because of the stand I took over a particular piece of behaviour and the hurt we both felt towards one another over that. There is continuing emotional fall out from it which we both appear unable to truly forgive one another for and stop repeating the original harm.

My first husband spent the twenty or so years of our relationship slowly removing himself from what the union was meant to represent. I came to know the true emptiness of our marriage in many ways, but most readily recall the many weekends I had of not saying anything to him at all, even though we were under the same roof, caring for the same young children. Often, this would start as an attempt to ‘punish’ him for a harm he’d done me, a wrong-doing or whatever. Eventually I settled into the greater truth of it; I did not want to speak with him, that I was happier if I just didn’t go there. Sad yeah?

Sadder still was that he, on the other hand, would often get to the end of such a weekend and remark to me in a happy, unaware manner how he thought we’d had a great weekend ‘together’. As I kept score, as perhaps only an invisible wife can do, the tally table showed that if I had attempted to interact with him, the weekend had dissolved into disagreements and grumpiness, whereas if I kept to myself it did not. Eventually, a choice for real happiness presented itself and I took it, leaving the marriage.

More controversial still, I believe even the relationship one has with one’s children is not cast in permanence. Once they are beyond dependency, it is natural they occupy a more distant place. This is true even if they live in the same house as you – that emotional space is a natural and necessary part of becoming an adult. Even so, one might expect the relationship you have with one another to flourish, albeit in a modified manner. But that is not always the case. Sometimes the act of becoming separate from one’s parent has to be a wrench. Perhaps my son’s reasons for remoteness are all due to the separation from his father that I myself chose. People take sides. At my lowest ebbs, I think back to the child he was, the smiles he reserved just for me, and I have to wonder why the price of my choosing personal happiness was the removal of these from me.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect about this tale of singularity is how well I have adapted. If you had asked my fifteen-year-old self if I could see a life where my twin sister would only communicate with me via her husband, I would have been outraged at the thought. But here I am. If you had told me ten years ago that my son would stick to single syllable words when talking to me I would have given you a patient look and politely denied the possibility. But here I am.

I do bear this aloneness – and do so with a sufficiency of operational day to day happiness and contentment, often at a higher ‘running-level’ than those past times of mine. How am I able to do this?

I have a theory – firstly I found somebody who did see me, who currently still does see me. This has been pivotal. The experience of being seen finally allowed me to see me. It was like discovering a mirror. It gave aspects of my understanding about who I am some greater physical form, and therefore a deeper knowing. Certain aspects I previously felt ought to be improved, I was in actual fact really happy with. Other aspects that I struggled with; I finally grasped the fact that they were not inherently ‘me’.

My relationship with myself improved, because of his innate acceptance - it was and is an act of permission. Overall, I got happier with who I am, who I have been and who I will become. I learnt to celebrate my strengths, tolerate my weaknesses and live with the varying bits in between. I still struggle, I still weep. I make many stupid mistakes. I am by no means whole or perfect. But I am much better than I have ever been at finding my way back to my path of grace.

I wish we all could hold such a beautiful feeling in our hearts for ourselves. For this is the only relationship you can ever guarantee is with you your entire life – the one you have with yourself.

Rachel x

Flying by the seat of one's pants...

Mon, 26 Jul 2021 13:59:11 GMT

...the only way to live?

Recently, I gave a talk to a group of fellow writers on the topic of how I plot my novels. Of the two extremes of how to plot a book, I declared myself to be ‘pantster’ rather than the ‘planner’.

I don’t profess to like the phrase, ‘pantster’. It is a clumsy shortening of the saying ‘to fly by the seat of one’s pants’, which of course implies that one is taking risks, seeing how things go, reacting in the moment to circumstances. This approach is supposedly in opposition to the alternative method which involves a detailed, considered period of setting out the story in advance, planning each step the characters take, leaving it just short of writing the narrative itself. In this ‘keep it simple’ world, these two choices are talked about as the only options available and as if they are mutually exclusive - a common question amongst writerly circles being one of ‘are you a pantster or a planner?’

But it is a false dichotomy.

The world is full of subtlety and nuance. I believe there are many options and possibilities in the middle of, and outside of these two options.

I suspect that by stating this, I am merely confirming to all that I am, by definition, a go-with-the-flow ‘pantster’.

And, to be honest, I struggle with the label.

Part of my grumble with being a ‘pantster’ is that I don’t recognise myself as a risk-taker. Generally speaking, I think my way around possibilities before I commit to them. There is not much in my life that I have not considered thoroughly before I have acted – even if it looks like, to those around me, that I am capable of acting rashly. I never claim that my consideration is without fault - even with lots of prior thought, things can still go wrong.

Nevertheless, I have always thought of myself as a cautious, pre-thinker, yet, the more I engage with my dream of writing books, I find this is not true. My writing is a highly personal act, close to my vulnerable heart with all the concomitant danger of exposure it brings with it, and yet I am steadfastly unable to plan story plots ahead of time, or stick to it if I do.

I have tried to plan out a full storyline; sketch each of the characters that will appear, both major and minor, and know before I begin to write the story itself how it will end. I have failed at this on every book I have written, so far. Ask me how my work in progress is going, my answer is always likely to be “umm, okay, I think. I mean I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen next, but I think I know the general direction.”

Generally, I know the main character and their immediate interactions. I am able to state roughly what the story will be about – it’s central theme. Writing my first novel began with just five minutes of scribbling, determining the main character as James, that he had a terminal illness at the age of just 17, that he had a magical mystical spirit friend who was called Marcham and that James’ sister, Lyra, was ten-years younger but possessed of a surety of spirit way beyond her years. And that was it. For the next two books in the series, I had more to work on at their respective starts. But for each, I did not really know what would happen until I was typing the words upon the screen.

For my fourth story, my current work in progress, some aspects of the main character have appeared on the screen in front of my eyes which I had no previous inkling about until the words were there. In this manner, the characters and plot lines fill in.

‘Pantsting’ is thought of as a ‘risky’ way of writing a book – because there is a much greater probability that I will head off down plotline cul-de-sacs and have to do a lot of reversing and re-work. There’s also the possibility that the general direction I am headed in is wrong; uninteresting and mundane. This risk would not be so likely to occur if I had planned in advance. My chances of writing the book faster and more efficiently (less editing needed) would also have been increased. I understand all of the logic and sense of being a planner.

The thing is, I just cannot do it. I am compelled to slow-down and unfold each piece of the story in the time it wants to be revealed. I do get anxious about the “what is it about?” and “are you sure it’s going in the right direction?” questions, but this anxiety never changes how the story is given to me. I am forced to relax, enjoy the journey rather than simply hurry to the end. It is, it seems, how I am able, or meant, to write.

And, if you think about it, so much of life’s reality is like this. Our well-laid efforts and strategies are at best just good guesses.

All the guru’s, life-coaches, friends and colleagues’ expertise one feels is important to seek out and know in detail – the best practices and the ten-secret-tips – they are all just a regurgitation of that person’s own best-guess experiences. All of us, are just simply trying stuff; doing something to move us towards our goal, seeing how it goes and then trying something else.

This is true, irrespective of if you are a ‘planner’ or a ‘pantster’ in life.

Gradually, I am learning to enjoy the process of patience, discovering what it is a particular story tells me it needs. I have added tools and techniques to my retinue over the years – all of which help me to be better at my craft. But underlying all of this is a fundamental truth, which is that for my act of creation, writing (but really, I mean life), I am best able to perform if I relax and allow the wind to take me where it desires. All I have to do is keep an eye on the instruments and conditions and then enjoy the wonderful discovery unfolding before me.

So, perhaps we are all better for enjoying our pants! Sounds like a good way to live life, don’t you agree?

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then you're in luck, click here to be taken to the Amazon page which will happily enable you to purchase a copy straight away!

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The first and second books in the Beyond Veils Series - 'The Point of Me' and 'The Truth of Her' - are available as Audiobooks. You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. Get 'em now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called "Letters from an Author" and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount on the total 3 separate e-book purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

A Gardener's Folly

Sun, 13 Jun 2021 11:38:31 GMT

...and the life lessons therein.

I have a garden. It is not a large piece of land; the smallest garden I have owned. It is my favourite one so far. I have built it from scrubby, so-called lawn into a flower filled, bee buzzing, petalled-patch in which I occasionally relax, ideally under a warming sun. The gardening work is mainly keeping the annual and perennial weed population at the outside edge of the fence line. Finer flowers are not made of the same mettle as the wily, bent-on-survival weeds are.

Keeping a garden ‘nice’ is a relentless, back aching role. The job title might more accurately be one of ‘weed war-monger’! After a day’s weeding, whilst out walking the dog, nursing the inevitable sore back and stiff hamstrings, I wander along the edges of arable fields, through wooded gaps, and notice many of my weedy-foes in their natural environment. Every now and again, I look at these wilderness plants and find myself thinking a variation of something like, “Oh no, that weed will get into my garden. Its seeds will be carried by birds, take root, take over. Give me more hard work, kill off my garden! It’s not fair!”

I am in these moments overtaken by a form of anxious madness, a particular type of foolishness.

Thoughts such as these are understandable in their commonness - especially easy to jump to when I am sore and grumpy because of how tough the act of creating the life – sorry, garden – I want to have, is.

Consider where the logic my folly ultimately takes me. I ask myself; are you seriously annoyed at wild plants doing their thing in the world in a wholly natural manner just because you, as a gardener, attempt to craft something particular to your view of how the world should be? Do you really want to see these ‘inconveniences’ removed from the wild? Banished from the planet? Just so that you may have an easier, prettier, perhaps safer life? Would that really be ‘better’?

Obviously, my answer is ‘no’. I do not want these wildflowers annihilated.

I do not want to be mad. I do not want to make the world a lesser place because of something I am trying to achieve, because of the manner in which I choose to live.

Gardening is a good metaphor. Does this bring to mind other areas of our lives where we resist what is natural?

Interacting with nature is good for me, for every single person on the planet. My sense of wellbeing is improved with it. But Mother-Nature is not always bucolic afternoons spent under a nurturing sun. Sometimes she is harsh, often unsentimental, verging on the cruel.

Fighting to keep my life – sorry, my garden – beautiful is a fundamental part of the process. Weeds teach me the value of regular and frequent attention to the task. They are as much a part of the act of creation as anything else. Without them, I might find I have less purpose, lapse into laziness, find less meaning and fulfilment to the whole process.

Railing at the existence of ‘bad’ or ‘dangerous’ things, and even getting indignant about their survival elsewhere on the planet is just plain daft. A world without ‘annoyances’ would be a false one. And anyway, who should I call upon if I did want to enact my crazy moment of mass wild-weed annihilation? Who is responsible? Who should I point at? The farmers? The council? The neighbours? The birds who carry the seeds? And, what would I demand of them? What should I say to bring them dashing to my aid; “ Excuse me, these weeds are dangerous for my garden. Their existence too frightening, too much hard work. You need to do the responsible thing and remove them so that there is no risk to me .” Does that sound in anyway reasonable? Would you not send me packing with a fair few fleas in my ear if I was demanding this of you?

It is my choice to live —sorry, garden—the way I do. It is my responsibility to work at ‘protecting’ these choices from outside invaders. If – when – they arrive, I do in fact already have many resources at my fingertips to manage the intrusion. I am able to behave in ways that mitigate the risks and harm they might create in my garden. An acceptance of personal responsibility for the matter encourages me to remain awake and aware to life – thereby giving greater purpose and meaning to my attention and action. The product of all of this? A garden of beauty. One I can justifiably be prouder of, knowing the scale of effort it has taken me to create.

As I say, gardening is a great metaphor.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then you're in luck, click here to be taken to the Amazon page which will happily enable you to purchase a copy straight away!

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley, of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called "Letters from an Author" and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount on the total 3 separate e-book purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Never Meet Your Idols

Thu, 13 May 2021 15:33:57 GMT

Is that true?

There is a particular person who, for the sake of another label, let’s say is a ‘celebrity’ in their chosen field and who I have admired for many years. I have read their books, had the good luck to hear them speak in public and been struck by their enviable sense of being wholly themselves. I believe they have a commendable safe footing on the planet.

Because of this, they are a bit of an icon; an embodiment of how to live a good life and be connected with what really matters. This has helped me populate my own values and behaviours. They fulfil a useful symbolic role - a guiding light for certain aspects of my life, a talismanic reminder to get myself centred upon what feels good.

In modern times, people such as this are projected into our homes via that mesmerising tool called a television. Or maybe we listen to them on the radio, perhaps we make a special trip to gather in a particular building to hear them speak publicly, or have them appear, projected onto the massive cinematic screen in front of us. In ancient times, these heroes were spoken of around the campfire. Stories, passed down from generation to generation, of great men and women whose example is laid out in myth in order to teach us how best to utilise this gift, or torture, of life.

No matter the medium used to enthral us with their flavour of what it is to be human, these heroes are nothing new. Throughout humanity’s history, we have always sought out such beings. It is important, I think, for each of us to find such a person – a being we can admire and project our hopes and aspirations for ourselves onto. It’s why, if you discover a character in a book you love, you are often so sad to finish the story and leave them behind.

So, after years of distant devotion to my particular ‘hero’s’ perspective, a conversation that has the feeling of being mutual, but of course never has been, one day, they make a mistake. They say something so vastly outside of what I had imagined would be their take on the world it shakes me. It is a note of discordancy, painful to hear frankly, a violent break in the harmony I believed they represented. Without notice they appear to have become something different to our agreement. I say to myself; how can this person hold such a view; how can that sit with the shared values I thought we had?

This is the reason it is usually not a good idea to meet your idols in ‘real’ life!

For it will be obvious to you, that this symbolic idol is, and always was, just a mere human being. A frail, fallible creature who is trying to make the best of what they have in this life, battling against the great unknown, carrying their own version of this world’s heavy responsibilities. They were never the person I imagined them to be. How could they possibly be so? I did not ‘visit’ them when they were at their worst, did not see them in the act of failing. I was treated to an edited version of their life - viewing them from a remote position, infrequently and through my own filters.

One of the main Christian commandments is ‘thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image’, meaning that there is danger in worshiping false idols, those who we may become confused represent the ineffable presence of God, or source, or whatever celestial highest being is most meaningful to you. This commandment describes the ‘danger’ I risk whenever I imagine that any other person, past or present, has all the answers, embodies everything that is good and proper and has none of the bad and improper about them.

None of us is perfect. We each are capable of laudable inspiration for others, but also weakness, ignorance and selfishness too. We are all trying our best with the resources we believe we have and from the starting points we perceive ourselves to be at.

Think of your parents, how god-like they once were to you. Think back to that moment when you first realised they too had the potential for folly and weakness, no matter how diligent and loving they also were.

It is an important moment for all of us, to reach that awareness and get comfortable with that reality. Some of us will restart the cycle and become god-like parents ourselves - and be reminded over and over again, in every single second of our parenting, just how much we are making it all up in the moment, happy most days just to have kept our beloved offspring alive, hoping, but ever-doubtful, we’re also setting a good example to them.

All of this? What lesson does it have for me?

Well, for one, it is healthier to respect another person’s work and viewpoint with a big dose of reality to accompany it. Be inspired by your heroes, allow them to encourage what it is inside of you that wishes to make itself known. But do it knowing that these humans inspire you because of what you, yourself, already know is the truth of you. They are useful graven images only when you remember that the presence of the ineffable is already within you. You are already whole. You only need stories about inspirational heroes so that you are better able to hear the chime of God within your heart and tune into it.

A few readers of my first book, The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One, have said they wish they had a Marcham character in their own lives. I always agree with them - Marcham is a wonderful friend, he has great courage, loyalty and wisdom, he is the epitome of a hero – then I point out to them that they already do, smile and leave them to figure it out what that means.

So, I say, meet your idols. Shake them by their human hands. Smile at them and thank them for their story which harmonised so well with yours. Then let them get on with being a messy, kind of just coping person, just like each of us is. Don’t hold their humanity against them, celebrate it. Just as you should your very own.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then you're in luck, click here to be taken to the Amazon page which will happily enable you to purchase a copy straight away!

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley, of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called "Letters from an Author" and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount on the total 3 separate e-book purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Who have you been? Who are you now?

Sun, 18 Apr 2021 15:36:06 GMT

Who do you wish to be?

I recently learned about two groups of humanity. Both were faced with the same overarching societal and environmental circumstances, both faced terrible challenges, both making dreadful choices; who may live and who may die.

The first group; in an excerpt of Prof. Jordan B Peterson’s just published new book ( ’12 More Rules for Life ’) I read about the atrocities carried out during the last world war by a particular ‘group’ – a police force set up to assist the Nazi’s maintain their rule within occupied territories. Prof. Peterson, in turn, references a book about this group – ‘ Ordinary Men – Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution for Poland ’ by Christopher R Browning.

Reserve Police Battalion 101 was made up of ‘normal’ men. Men who had previously lived average lives, achieving average things that the vast majority of humanity still aspires to. These men were generally middle aged – too old or imperfect to be drafted into the army as regular soldiers, but still able and useful enough to perform a role for the powers-that-be - they signed up, volunteered to be part of this police force. This group is interesting exactly because of their very ‘normal’ starting point; they were not fanatics or particularly politically idealised. They are interesting because they went on to perform some of the worst atrocities against defenceless Jewish civilians, women, children and the infirm, during even that most awful period of history.

Those who have studied these men have asked how average middle-aged husbands and fathers came to perform their murderous jobs. The conclusion? Each member of Reserve Police Battalion 101 got there by taking small, tiny steps into evil. They started from where they were and moved slowly but imperceptibly away from ‘acceptable’ behaviour into the worst of what humanity is capable of. Each time, just accepting the latest small swallow of terribleness. No doubt, they were assisted in this internal struggle by seeing that others around them performed this too. There is safety in numbers, yes?

Perhaps you are thinking they were coerced with vicious threats from higher up the authority chain, that these men acted as they did out of fear for their own lives, that they had no choice. I wish this were true, but there are a number of cases of individuals refusing, publicly, to perform the savagery requested. These men were not harshly punished, in fact at least one such objector went on to be promoted.

At about the same time as I read about Reserve Police Battalion 101, I watched author, Margaret Atwood being interviewed in relation to her latest bestseller – The Testaments, the follow up to the uber-successful Handmaid’s Tale. She spoke of a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, a man who had escaped that regime as a child only through the bravery of ‘normal’ people who were prepared to risk their own lives and those of their family members in order to save others, often strangers. Eventually this gentleman came to wonder about these people. He wished to know more about his saviours, to know why they had acted thus. It is a question that fascinates me too; why would you risk your life for the sake of a stranger?

Having travelled back to his ‘homeland’ and interviewed as many as he could find, he came to a conclusion. It was not due to religious or political ideologies. It was not for gain or aggrandisement. The answer is simpler and, I think, more devastatingly powerful because of this. These brave rescuers risked everything because it was who they thought they were, and who they wanted to continue to be. Or, put another way, they refused to live knowing they had behaved in a manner less worthy of themselves. They held a conviction, a belief. A whisper of their conscience. This is what pushed them to make the first move, some small act of protection for the persecuted in their community. Slowly, they began from where they were, and holding to their vision, the belief in who they were, step by step, found themselves risking all.

The famous quote from ‘ The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956 (1973) ’ by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn – a book I confess I have not yet gathered enough courage to read - goes as follows; “ If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being .” There is an extra sentence, a question, the author goes on to ask. This sentence is not so often included – “ And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart? ”

But the question – who is willing - is valid. It speaks to the hard decisions we all face in the course of our lives. This is true of humanity no matter what point in history we find ourselves to be living through. It is relative; the challenges we face personally may frighten us, but not others. The premise from which we start may make a choice seem entirely ‘good’ but utterly mad to someone else, who begins from a different principle. To be the ‘best-version’ of oneself is well-used amongst self-help, personal development and spiritual texts. To step into one’s power, strive for higher vibrations and act in a loving manner, acknowledging the innate connectedness that every soul on the planet shares. These are phrases that we nod along to – who doesn’t agree with these ideals?

What is less often spoken about is the epic-battle it can feel like, in the micro-moment, when the choice of action is suddenly upon us and we suspect that to go one way is to reach for an idealised vision of ourselves but risk criticism and isolation, or go another way which will keep us within a safe fold of our life and peer-group, but reduces us and allows hurt and harm to happen.

I have experienced these moments. A threat arrives, an injustice occurs, a choice is presented. My heart thumps, my language capacity lessens, my blood feels electric with adrenaline, my skin prickles with goosebumps. You will have experienced this too.

We may not be facing down a Nazi police officer, nevertheless, the stars have aligned so as to present us with a question – “Who are you going to choose to be, here, now?” Sometimes I hear that question slightly differently; “Which side of my heart will I choose to ‘destroy’?”

Those of you who have read my third book, ‘The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book Three’ will perhaps have an idea as to how these two ‘heart-halves’ manifest for me, because the two main characters appear to be effectively each side of that dividing heart-line. I hope the story I have written makes it clear which approach is ‘best’, but also highlights how the decision, to be either side - the ‘good’ or the ‘bad’ – is very rarely taken lightly and sometimes bad decisions and choices are made for the ‘best’ reasons.

I try hard to choose the side of my heart which makes me a bigger, better person, which may make the world a teeny bit better. My experience is these opposing ‘halves’ may appear very similar to each other and the line dividing them not so obviously apparent. Let us remember how small the steps can be – how insignificant and hardly there; a mere turn of one’s head, or a stilling of one’s tongue. Such steps transformed average Germans into killers or saviours. To a different outcome, these are the steps you and I choose too, here and now.

So, how did my characters resolve this dilemma (for the beauty of being an author is the need to always resolve the story to a satisfactory answer of the big question being posed)? In brief summary - they were forced to a point of undeniable truth about who they wished to be, who they had been and who they were being.

Only then was there the possibility of love, happiness and hope.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: At the risk of being annoying - I'm still on the hunt for more reader-reviews for this, my most recently published book. May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then you're in luck, click here to be taken to the Amazon page which will happily enable you to purchase a copy straight away!

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley, of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called "Letters from an Author" and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount on the total 3 separate e-book purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Just say 'no'...

Mon, 08 Mar 2021 16:15:22 GMT

...in defence of being discerningly selfish

Some days I feel pressured to be super positive and available – to be both likeable and useful. We’re told that to be successful in this world of ours we must smile and grab every possible glimmer of opportunity in our vicinity. The fear that you might just let the biggest chance of your life float on past is real for many of us. We have been conditioned to be nice and say ‘yes’ more than we say ‘no’.

I have grown older though and come to recognise it is the times I have said ‘no’ which have proven to be the most transformational.

Here’s an example; my new status as a mother also marked the end of my high-flying corporate career. Six months after the birth of my daughter, I was an inconvenient woman who now had different priorities to the 14 hour working days my American, software-consultancy employer thought was reasonable. I was made redundant on the basis of highly suspect criteria. My solicitor agreed I had a case for tribunal, but warned me a judge might not award me much compensation, in fact I might get ‘punished’ for not taking the ex-gratia (shut up and leave) payment being offered to go quietly.

With the injustice of his legal advice ringing in my ears, my 6-month old daughter perched on my hip, I headed off for a weekend away with family. I sat upon a beautiful Norfolk beach, a bright benign sky above my head, perfect white clouds drifting lazily, the sound of the sea, the smell of salt, sand between my toes, the happy delight of my baby exploring, and I decided to say ‘no’. It was the first time I would not take on a fight for justice.

I freed myself. Yes, in not standing up for my own rights I was letting down all women, the decision was a selfish one. I figured if I was meant to change the world for the better, it would not be by sacrificing myself fighting a massive, deep pocketed corporation, whose minions – all frightened for their own jobs no doubt – were simply following orders and getting the paperwork done.

Here’s another example of ‘no’: my decision to leave my marriage. A long-dried up union, in which I was a duty player on an empty sports field. Invisible and settling for second best, performing acts I did not want to do, from which I gained no pleasure, just a temporary relief from the simmering entitlement and anger that my then husband held in his heart for me. Apparently, I was the problem, so I was the one who was expected to sort things. I did, eventually. I found the strength, a reason, to speak the truth of my heart. I said ‘no’. It was not easy. The ramifications of that ‘no’ continue to ripple outwards within my life and that of my family. I said no, again for purely selfish reasons, to make myself happy.

Another example: the other month I got an offer of being featured on somebody’s online podcast. The sales pitch went something along the lines of how much exposure my books would get and how brilliant this would be for my writing career. The pay-off? I would have to produce content that had to be exclusive to this podcast. The time to create this was a considerable chunk of my writing-time for the month. It was an example of how offers can seem dazzlingly tempting – “This’ll put your name up in lights” promises that upon analysis put the whole burden of effort and therefore, risk, upon one party with, really, very little risk for the other party. This person was getting content for their podcast for free, with no ability to guarantee me any benefit. But more pertinent was that they didn’t fit me. I didn’t ‘get’ their approach. I didn’t ‘feel’ it. It felt too one-sided. When I imagined myself working to deliver the required brief for this promise, I felt a tad desperate.

I turned the opportunity down. I used that ‘free’ time to write my books, some more of these letters, and to learn how to promote my writing through channels that I can control and whose effect I have a better chance of assessing. All of this work felt genuine, an authentic graft to give myself a better chance of reaching more readers who hopefully will become proper fans of me (rather than working really hard for somebody for whom I was just an hour’s worth of air-time).

Saying ‘no’ - it is hard on the heart at times. I’m risking disappointing people, I worry that I come across as difficult, too stubborn, too negative in these circumstances. People, well-meaning friends and family, frown at me and say, ‘but why not, what have you to lose?’ It is a good question. I’m not sure I always have a good answer for it – other than it just doesn’t feel right.

Every time I have said no, I was in effect saying ‘yes’ to something else. Sometimes that yes was immediately obvious to me. Most times it was not. I have to trust something ‘better’, more meaningful will appear and, because I have not busied myself with unfulfilling activity, I will be more capable of spotting the ‘ideal for me’ moments. I believe the universe moves upon its axis at my utterance of, ‘No, thank you. It’s not a good fit for me’ and aligns for the most perfectly apt opportunity to zoom up the cosmic motorway, straight towards me.

Discernment is not such a fashionable concept in this fast-paced, fast-food, fast-forward world. I’m on a crusade to bring it back. If I could influence my now teenaged daughter, I would have her listen to her internal roar of ‘no!’ at a much earlier age than I did. That she wouldn’t spend so many years finding her courage, like I had to. That she would have a secure knowledge of her right to say no, that she was allowed to leave, allowed to demand a sign of commitment from the other person before having to commit herself. In short, that she would say ‘no’ more often and find herself a freer and more successful person for it.

She isn’t allowed to say ‘no’ to me though!

Only kidding, she learnt how to do that just after that beach weekend at 6 months old and hasn’t stopped since!

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: Look, at the risk of being annoying and please don't say 'no' to me on this - I'm still on the hunt for more reader-reviews for this, my most recently published book. May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, click here to be taken to the Amazon page.

P.P.S. Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley, of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called "Letters from an Author" and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount on the total 3 separate e-book purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Mate, it's all spiritual

Mon, 15 Feb 2021 15:02:51 GMT

- there is meaning in everything.

I get asked every now and again about the ‘spiritual’ aspect of my writing. The question is usually framed as “which do you enjoy writing the most; real life or the spiritual bits?”. Or maybe a person will ask me why I decided to be a writer of spiritual or mystical fiction, rather than being a comedy or crime writer.

These are not complex questions, but they are difficult to answer. Because they miss the point.

All stories have a spiritual nature to them.

Yup, all of them, no matter what genre they are. Jane Austen wrote spiritual novels. Stephen King does too. Paulo Cohelo definitely does. Harry Potter is also a spiritual story. Come on now, don’t pretend to be surprised about that last one!

If a story has touched you, lasted within your memory, chances are it is about a character who starts the story with problems and wants. They likely have a particular flaw to their character. This ‘hero’ has to work at figuring out why their failings exist, why it is they want what they want, and in probable fact, that it is not really what they need. There will be an emotional arc to their story that arrives at a point of realisation. The story will have undoubtedly revealed how the hero has grown and become wiser. Stories only capture your imagination if they possess this aspect; evolution towards a better place.

That is spirituality, folks.

When I am writing, I am following my curiosity. I chase the questions that I have in my own heart about this thing called ‘life’. They are common questions that we all come to at some point in our lives, the type of problems that resonate at a deep emotional level and stretch across all of humanity. Other authors follow these same deep questions but their exploration takes the form of comedy, or crime, or romance. My stories have a more overt spiritual or magical aspect to them because that is what comes from within me. What fascinates is the internal voice of consciousness possessed by all and how we choose to utilise our divine freewill and choice to create the lives we are living. My writing ‘process’ may be simplified down to; I ask, listen, am given via inspiration, and try to type fast enough to get the ideas onto a page.

Stephen King describes the job of storyteller as if they were an archaeologist. He talks of having to excavate the story – how it is already fully formed, a dinosaur fossil under the ground. The writer’s job is ‘simply’ to uncover the extent of it. I like that. Stories are, I believe, something bigger than the writer. They need to be discovered bit by bit.

That is symbolic, folks. Yes, it’s spiritual!

There is a viewpoint that spiritual means something you do, or join or learn. That it is the groups you go to, the people you mix with, the clothes you wear, the décor you decorate your home with. For some, it is a pin-badge proudly displayed. This is all totally fine and valid – it is entirely human to align with ‘tribes’, to use visual elements to declare oneself to another, we are highly visual animals. My point is, all of this is fun, but not necessary. To be human is to be spiritual. That’s a truth. The only variable is how aware of this you are. If you are minded to, at any point in your life you may be spiritual by a mere alteration of your thoughts, your focus, the placement of your attention towards it. It is always there.

The thing is, literally everything is spiritual. Yup, everything. This letter to you. The existence of the coffee table to my right as I sit with the laptop typing this. The wisps of incense floating snakelike upon the air. The beat of the music that plays within my ears. The feel of the keys on the keyboard. The wonder of the cursor moving magically across the screen in response to my tapping. My thoughts, the journey I take in considering this question, the movement of my imagination, the intent within my heart to explore, analyse and understand. It’s all spiritual, my friend.

Meaning is in everything – every minute tiny detail, every large broad brush of life. Cosmic intelligence – or whatever name you wish to assign to the source of all things – is within everything. One has but to look for it, seek it.

This is why my narratives swing from real, contemporary life situations into scenes of celestial spirit and energetic manifestations of ‘other-world’ realities. It is why the three books I have written so far are grouped under the series title, ‘Beyond Veils’. For it is but a veil that hides the awe of mysticism from our consciousness here in this life. With a regular practice of attention, and loving intention to seek it, this veil may be lifted and you may travel beyond it to remember the point of you, the truth of everything and the hope of all.

This is my answer to the original question up there, at the beginning of this letter - perhaps my books shouldn’t be described as spiritual. It would be just as valid to call them ‘real realism’ – for what my characters experience and how they react and feel is entirely possible. Real to me at least, and hopefully to you too. Thing is, Amazon demands I pick a genre category… and ‘real realism’ isn’t an option, so spiritual, mystical fiction it is. That’s cool; it’s all spiritual, man.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, click here to be taken to the Amazon page.

P.P.S . Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount of 44% on the total purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Delusion and Truth...

Fri, 08 Jan 2021 16:18:52 GMT

...look into the darkest corners of your soul to discern which is which.

Recently, I was in conversation with a young person, the son of a friend of a friend of a friend, who announced they had decided what their future job would be; veterinarian. This individual is on the cusp of adulthood, so the question of what career they would soon attempt to secure had a more immediate pressing – they were not, for instance, in carefree toddler-hood announcing this big dream. I smiled and enquired as to their reasons why – did they have a particular love of biology and medical science for instance? Their answer? No, they did not. Ah, perhaps they were just particularly good at these school subjects, so whilst not being passionate about it, the skills came so easily to them it felt foolish for them to turn away from such a career? Their answer? No, their predicted grades in useful, relevant subjects were not particularly top-notch.

At this point, I was stumped. I am a believer in never knocking other people’s dreams, so I did not point out the potential flaw in achieving their desire. Equally, I did not feel able to cheerlead their ambition in the manner of the “X-Factor” generation of “you just have to believe hard enough.” I bailed with a weak “oh well, good luck” kind of comment, privately wondering about their mental health. Was he serious? If so, how did he think he could make such a dream come true? Was he innocently unaware of the scale of the task he was setting himself, or dangerously deluded? I moved our conversation into safer – saner – waters.

I couldn’t get his decision out of my mind though – it got me thinking about the goals and dreams we set ourselves in life, and what the reasons for our choices might be.

Read anything about manifestation and the laws of abundance, and you will arrive at a point whereby one is instructed to let go of specifics relating to our hopes. The wisest masters on these subjects speak of how important this act of release is. One cannot force a particular outcome, a particular solution out of thin air. We must place our intentions with all the love and gratitude we can muster, into cosmic safe keeping. Then we must trust that all will be well and what is intended for us, will not pass us by.

This said, we must also continue to turn up to our desire on a regular basis, and frequently toil hard at the practical elements (developing pertinent skills and knowledge, for instance). Being present, keeping our attention focused, giving of our best in the moment we have, here and now – this is both sensible and meaningful to us achieving our goals.

But there’s a more fundamental step to this manifestation “law” which I believe many either forget about or rush past, in their haste to make their dreams apparent, and my conversation with that young-adult reminded me of it. First, before anything else, we must pause to check we are telling the truth. We must be honest about who we are, what we feel, and yes, honest too about why we feel this way – why this goal/dream/purpose is the one we wish to make real.

This is, in my opinion, the first step – and the hardest. It is so easy to fool ourselves on this issue of truth. We can get so used to our reasons for pursuing a particular dream that we forget, or deliberately obscure, its origins. Our fixation upon a particular ‘thing’ may be so strong that it excludes all other possibilities and doubt. Our delusion may solidify, like a ‘skin’, hiding the reality of our desire’s beginning.

Often a stated life purpose/ambition/goal is first conceived as a way of moving far away from a primal pain or a loss of a piece of ourselves; a soul loss. Initially, in infancy, it is as simple as that, but as we get older, and begin to have to justify our life-choices to others, we construct a narrative around the desire we hold. We place this into terms that are complimentary to ourselves (for who would want to make themselves look bad deliberately?). We then repeat these justifications over and over until they grow from a single layer of ‘skin’ to become more redolent of solid walls, or blinkers. We grow into our desired purpose, but it remains connected to our deepest truths, even if we have long since failed to recognise this. As such, we are vulnerable to the whispers of Ahriman, the trickster, who may lead us astray with affirmations of how ‘right’ we are, how ‘talented’ and how we just need to keep at it, work harder, spend more money, strive again.

The workaholic friend you have – you know the one; always busy doing something important – they could be running from a deep-rooted loneliness and a fear of risking their vulnerable heart to anything other than the loving sense of achievement and the safety of only dealing with things they know they can control.

The hypochondriac friend you have – you know the one; always convinced that their headache is a brain tumour, that the sniffle they have is bubonic plague- maybe they’re running from the persistent pain of neglect and what they really want to say is ‘love me, look after me’.

That author friend of yours – you know the one; always writing stories about the big questions in life and what divine spirit might feel like, how it might be known more closely – they’re probably running away from their bewilderment at being separate and what they seek most is an acknowledgement that they belong somewhere, that somebody else ‘gets them’.

To sum up the infinitely complex beauty of a person in a single paragraph is not possible. My tongue-in-cheek brevity is hopefully useful to the point I wish to illustrate, which is that a willingness to stare into the dark shadows of our painful beginnings, to reconstruct the pathways our lives have taken us on and why we hold dear certain hopes and desires, is a rare thing.

I have a theory; being aware of, and honest about our base humanity— a self-awareness that encompasses and acknowledges our shadows as well as our lights —is one of the best gifts one can give oneself.

For the dark depth of your soul is the womb of divine creation. By tackling fears, through the application of our attention, talents and insights, by turning up and being present to them, we are more likely to ensure the purpose we pursue is the one that will result in the highest version of ourselves. Once secure in the correctness of this pursuit we can rest easy that whatever outcomes occur are wholly meant for us.

As Gabor Mate, Canadian/Hungarian physician, in his book, ‘The Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction’ says; “ What we call the personality is often a jumble of traits and adopted coping styles that do not reflect our true self at all, but the loss of it .”

And, let us not forget the inscription on the temple of Apollo at Delphi, Greece; “ Know they self, and thou shall know the mysteries of the gods, and of life.”

Delusion is a sneaky, persistent companion and the truth of ourselves is hard to be sure about, but it is worth seeking. Arguably, it is the only worthwhile goal in life.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, click here to be taken to the Amazon page.

P.P.S . Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount of 44% on the total purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Animal Beauty

Mon, 07 Dec 2020 13:16:33 GMT

what two fictional characters taught me about living.

Consider for a moment if you will, how some book characters fade from one’s memory whilst others remain deeply implanted, offering a residual perspective, or lens, through which one views one’s life.

For a recent interview, I was asked to pick a fictional character as a friend or ‘companion’. There were two characters which stood out for me. These characters came from books I read as a youngster (for in our formative years there is greater possibility for stories to carve the shape of our hearts).

If you know me, you will perhaps not be too surprised that both characters are equine! Horses are such a powerful emblem to me. I spent much of my earlier life working with them. I still love them deeply. They have strong symbolism for me.

The two characters are Ginger, the chestnut mare from Black Beauty, and Boxer, the carthorse from Animal Farm. Their stories are powerfully poignant. As a child they made me weep. I cry now, as I recall them. Here’s what they mean to me:

Firstly, dear Ginger; a creature of great beauty and fine lines. She is a mare – a bright copper chestnut, she stands out and is valued for her beauty. But Ginger is not satisfied with this. She is haughty, tends towards touchiness. She bridles easily and rejects the heavy hands of the humans, to whom she does not tolerate being subservient. She is likely to kick-out and bite. She wants respect and gentle handling, for somebody to see her wild and restless nature and understand its importance to her. She is willing to align with those that are capable of such insight. But there are few of these sensitive souls in the world, fewer still who embody the patience she needs in order to trust.

For the humans in the story, Ginger is too much hard work. Slowly, inevitably, her life becomes rougher and harsher. Her status falls, she is sold on. No longer the upper-class ladies ‘hack’ she is put to more and more menial work. She fades from the story as the narration follows the main character, Black Beauty. The book returns to Ginger’s story in dramatic fashion with her undignified and public ending. I distinctly remember the scene – a chestnut horse’s head lolling from the cart, blood dripping from the lifeless, hanging tongue. Some of Ginger’s last spoken words are thus; “men are strongest, and if they are cruel and have no feeling, there is nothing that we can do, but just bear it—bear it on and on to the end.”

My heart. Oh Ginger. How could they?

The abject hopelessness described! The undeniable cruelty of man. It was a warning; if one is sensitive, harder to live with than ‘most’, feel things too much, care too much, then you might expect to suffer in similar manner. Black Beauty, by comparison, has a gentler journey, being able, perhaps, to tolerate the hand of man’s authority more willingly. Black Beauty is liked more, he fits in more. He has an easier life because of it.

Ginger’s tale reminds me that there is protection in holding back some of oneself from others. Ginger kept fighting for herself, which is admirable, but in doing so, she placed the onus on these ‘others’ to change their behaviour towards her. That was her mistake. That is the unkindness of humanity – others do not generally change to suit you. The only person capable of change to suit oneself is yourself. Had Ginger realised that no-one was coming to save her, she had only herself to rely upon, she may have learned to compromise, and even develop an acceptance of her situation. She may have found peace without too much sacrifice. It’s a manifesto for how to survive an environment or situation that feels bad, from which one cannot easily leave, how to take back some power. It may be as equally flawed as Ginger’s original approach! Luckily, I am not a horse in harness, I have personal agency. I get to set my boundaries and have freedom to choose who I spend my time with. Ginger’s story reminds me of how deeply grateful I need to be for that fact.

Now to my recollection of dear, faithful Boxer, the carthorse from Animal Farm. The emphasis of course is on that descriptor – faithful. This is the key to Boxer’s character. He has immense strength; is capable of useful and difficult work that benefits the whole farm. More than this, he is a willing worker. He believes with the whole of his big-heart that if he leans into the toil, pushes himself to get it done, then his world, and that of his friends, his fellow farm-dwellers, will be better. Religiously, with determined application, he turns up every day and does his best. He follows the orders, believes that the system he labours for is a fair one. Of course, dear Boxer is deeply mistaken. At the first sign of weakness from him, when he is unable to perform his role, we discover what happens to those that are no longer useful. Boxer is told a lie; he is being sent to the vet for the best care possible. The last image I have is of him willingly getting into the horsebox, his big, kind, faithful face looking hopeful that he is to be looked after and allowed time to recover. The terrible betrayal is revealed at the last minute, when too late. I recall how Boxer attempts to escape, how he beats his big hooves against the wood, of how such a kick would have worked in his youth, he would have been capable of saving himself. But he has worked too hard for this untruthful society, given too much of himself. The big-hearted beast has been complicit in his own downfall.

The book does not return us to Boxer’s point of view after this, but my imagination did! The cruelty of knowing that Boxer spent that last journey realising the awful depths of underlying treachery to which he had unknowingly devoted himself.

Boxer’s tale tells me that an absolute loyalty towards authority figures and systems is dangerous. Every single person of authority, every single system of governance and control that has ever existed in humanity, and will ever exist, always benefits from being frequently and regularly questioned, challenged and tested. The authority of spouses over one another, the authority of teachers over students, the authority of policy setters, and their policy enforcers, have over the societies they are elected by – all of these are relationships of trust. Such a contract can only remain generally beneficial to all, if it is subject to rigour and justification. Boxer’s blind faith, his unquestioning service was foolish.

The question, “why?”, can be one of the most difficult questions to give voice to. It is one of the most important questions that I, you, we all should be asking. Seeking deeper answers, applying regular doses of healthy-scepticism to one’s ‘authority figures’ and to question one’s own behaviours and beliefs in similar ‘judicial’ fashion is a very good habit to get into. This will likely mean that one isn’t quite so easily dismissed or removed. Perhaps, this keeps society a fairer and safer place to live within. Being yourself, wholly, in all your choices because you have conducted your own analysis, makes you a true scientist of your life. Had Boxer’s character been written as such, he would have been a much greater threat to Napoleon and the other pigs, because he would not have given away his power.

This is the common thread between these two characters, and of my life’s learning.

There are many ways to give away your power. You can fight for a futile outcome. You can blindly serve a corrupt system. These might feel ‘easier’ or ‘better’ choices in the moment, but you risk their malignant harvest.

The life-long ‘win’ is to consider your own behaviour, consider your own choices, consider who you believe your best self to be and to choose both the battles and the moments of service in your life unswervingly in accordance with who, in your constant seeking, you find you are.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: May I I ask, if you've grabbed yourself a copy, to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? Or even better - let lots of other potential readers know by writing up a quick review on Amazon. It is one of the most useful things you can do to help my writing career. Thank you. If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, click here to be taken to the Amazon page.

P.P.S . Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?' Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount of 44% on the total purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Three Sisters...

Mon, 30 Nov 2020 13:52:59 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

My teenage daughter gave me reason the other day to consider how many girl-friends I ‘have’; she had been asked by one of her own ‘friends’ to rate her popularity. As I swallowed down the maternal rage at such a ‘bitch move’ of a question, my daughter totted up her current running total, and I quietly joined her in this particularly female kind of hell.

The answer? I have less than ever before and that is from a lifetime of only ever having a handful. Do you think this a terrible admission? Shouldn’t I be boasting of my many hundreds of friends, like an Instagram influencer would?

Apparently, Aristotle classified friendships into three types (way before Facebook, obviously) – friendships of utility, friendships of pleasure and finally, friendships of the good. This third one being the deepest and most meaningful. Separately, some psychological texts state the minimum number of ‘close’ friends an adult requires in order to be ‘happy’, is three (nothing like a scientific finding to make one feel inadequate is there?).

I do know that when I got radically happier with myself and significantly more “me”, I frightened some friends away. No longer acting the same play as them, we moved into separate theatres. Now I no longer have an unhappy marriage to make snide, comedic comments about, and no stressful office job to moan over, I am, perhaps, a lot less interesting to hang out with!

In the bestselling book, “Three Women”, author, Lisa Taddeo explores the dynamic of female relationships further, particularly how it is women who more often influence women when it comes to romantic and sexual relationships. The author’s mother says to her – “Don’t let them see you happy”. She meant other women, and when asked why, her mother goes on to say “because they will try to destroy you.”

Wow. It is the women in women’s lives that may do the greatest damage?

But, here’s the thing, I feel the truth within that statement. Because I do not have a great relationship with my sisters, in fact I believe they do not even like me. So, this question of female friendship, female influence, goes to the heart of my deepest, darkest soul injury.

Women are thought to be not generally capable of warlike, outright aggressive behaviour. We are schooled to associate this with our biology and the archetypal role of ‘mother’. We have to be less confrontational, more nurturing and inclusive. This is, I guess where the legend of ‘sisterhood’, women supporting other women, has its formative roots. Well sure, that happens too. But when I was growing up there wasn’t much open talk about how in our day to day lives ‘sisterhood’ can also, occasionally, feel dangerous.

Perhaps every woman does feel this too, but we never speak to one another about it, do we? Well here goes, dearest reader; this is my experience of being a sister. It is, as I say, one of my deepest shames.

I am from an overtly female family. There were three daughters and a mother in the house. My father was a lone male amongst us; his rule that the family dog be of the male variety and never castrated is a possible clue as to how he felt, surrounded by so much female energy!

Growing up, my relationship with my sisters felt like one of emotional withdrawal, fearful co-dependency, simmering passive-aggressive silences, jealous territorial battles, and tsunamis of sulking, all dressed up with polite, ‘look, I’m being nice’, face to face conversations that remain to the present day most definitely in the safety of shallow small talk.

My eldest sister is five years older and continually distant. My first memory of her is being pushed out of her bedroom and instructed never to enter again. Okay, that’s not so unusual for siblings to do to one another, and I don’t blame her for this behaviour. But there was a permanence to it in our house. I never got to really know who she is. To this day, I know only the surface of her, and she of me. When younger, I would try to provoke her; enter into arguments for the sake of just shouting at her. Was it an attempt to be seen? My memory of those moments is that they were more knee-jerk; the expression of a child’s barely understood anger.

My other sister is my identical twin – I am the elder by 10 minutes. As youngsters we were extremely co-dependent. Shy and sensitive by measures, it was to one another that we clung when being pushed into the world – from within the womb and as an ongoing habit afterwards. This sister no longer speaks directly to me, but she will send thank you notes for birthday and Christmas presents. Her written word is formally jolly and precisely polite. It is sad. It makes me sad all the time.

I’ve learnt to have boundaries and strategies that help me contain the sadness – and, yes, the anger. Also, I acknowledge that no matter how “good” I think I might have been, how righteous I was compared to ‘them’, that I am without doubt jointly culpable in constructing and maintaining this weirdly combative barren landscape that we three inhabit. With each day, we lose track of who we are to one another. The family tree tells the story of our connection, but we ourselves do not. I feel deeply ashamed admitting this.

To be a woman and to know that my sisters do not like me is a complicated mind-screw to unpick. For this is the question I have buried deeply within - if my sisters do not like me, how will it ever be possible for other women to like me? The real me I mean. The occasionally challenging, difficult, ‘yeah-but’ me. The me who wants to call out my bullshit and yes, probably your bullshit too. The one who quickly tires of wearing a plastic-polite smile. The me who wants to whisper to another woman just how goddamn happy I am, without fear that as she smiles, she is also judging which of my vertebrae she may choose to stick the dagger between.

It is my time of life which brings this question closer. I feel the need to answer it with as much positivity as possible. Not least for myself, but for my daughter too. In the midst of her battles to fit in to female friendship groups, as I watch her having to navigate their often bitchy-waters, and listen to her describe how terribly touchy they all seem and how hard it is to feel safe within the embrace of their brittle, polite, power-based companionship, I find myself at a loss for good advice.

If I am pushed for an answer, well at this point in my life, I think it is more important to have ‘friends for the good’. Friendships founded upon mutual respect, admiration, and appreciation for the qualities we each bring, the grumpy moments as well as the finer – and that this should not be gender specific. In fact, gender might be the least relevant qualification for friendship. This is my head talking. My heart still aches with the absence of my own personal ‘sisterhood’ and returns to wondering what it is about me that is so unlikeable…?

I am not unique. Living with deep seated shadows is experienced by everyone of us. These dark and painful spaces are within all our hearts. The topics of, the reasons for them, belong singularly and wholly to ourselves. The point of our pain and suffering? Good question. Possibly it is to consider how we may shine light into these spaces and grow up and beyond them, transmuting the experiences into something more mindful, more heartful?

At this point in my letters to you I would normally relate my thoughts back to a story that I have already written, reflecting upon how my perspective on the letter’s topic relates to one of my characters and reminding myself of how I resolved the theme within the book’s storyline. I cannot do that with this letter. This question – of and about my relationship with my sisters and therefore with women in general, is my work in progress. I am minded to write a book about it – what do you think? Should I? How do we judge the ‘quality’ of our female friends, and is it different from other friendships? Does my shameful admission resonate at all with your life’s experiences?

Rachel

Against Tides

Thu, 05 Nov 2020 10:06:00 GMT

Swimming against a tide, even just standing still against it, is scary.

There is a particular sentence in my third book, ‘The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book Three’ that really upset my proof-reader when she read it!

Her note was a blunt instruction to delete it, followed by an explanation; “People will be utterly annoyed by this.” Crikey.

This sentence, a mere drop at twenty words in the book’s ocean of nearly one hundred thousand, is not offensive, contains no profanity. It doesn’t incite violence, hatred or discriminate against a ‘type’ of person. It does describe a particular character’s viewpoint that is, debatably, not commonly held, or at least, possibly, commonly held but not often openly admitted.

Perhaps my proof-reader is right. It had definitely annoyed her , pricked her sense of outrage. She had handed me a dilemma. Maybe I should remove it…It is but one sentence. Its absence would surely not leave a massive hole in the narration? What if my readers did become annoyed by its presence, by the perspective it portrayed?

Did I delete the sentence?

Nope. No siree, I did not. I’m standing by that sentence.

I checked my heart. I checked my character’s heart. I asked myself, “am I worried that one person’s reaction might turn into a cavalcade of criticism?” I went back in time and I remembered the moment in which that sentence had been born; travelling from inspiration to imagination, on down to my fingertips on the keyboard, moving the cursor on the screen, typing its letters, I relived its arrival into being. I recalled the exact intention I had in the moment, the desire I held—to illustrate my character, paint her in a particular light. I remembered all of this and I felt peaceful.

In fact, I felt pleased.

This character’s viewpoint is meant to be a different perspective on how the world generally looks and feels to most people. That’s because she is a wholly different perspective on our world. She is intended to highlight and illustrate where we so often go wrong. How we get ourselves into trouble, lead half-lives, make bad choices and abuse our gift of freewill.

Yes, I was pleased this sentence had provoked a level of discomfort. For within that turned-over, newly ploughed land of my proof-reader’s mind, perhaps the seed of disquiet will settle, grow roots, cause her to wonder at why that particular viewpoint exists. Why it might have validity, looked at from different angles than those more habitually taken.

Making the decision to keep my character on the outskirts of ‘mainstream’, I risk some readers closing my books, never to return to them. But, forgive me, dear reader, why should that change what I write? Consider it this way around – if I wrote my books – in fact, if all authors wrote with the sole objective of trying to please everyone, what kind of activity or opinion would characters be ‘allowed’? What words would they be ‘safe’ to say? What is acceptable to everyone, all of the time?

Remember also, the editing instruction was handed to me as a forewarning of mass reaction, even though in reality it was just one person’s, so far. Their warning was crafted as if they had greater insight, a secret knowledge of how the masses will receive and react. This is a tactic often used, and at all levels of society. From the bully in the playground whispering dark promises that “everyone” thinks as they do, to the highly educated, Cambridge honours journalist, in the newspaper editor’s office, setting forth which opinions are ‘best’. Onwards, to the politicians in parliament, broad brushing their platitudinal proclamations, passing legislation for control and subversion.

This behaviour is both common and ‘normal’ - a human trait - it is how most of nature behaves. It is a method of domination.

So yes, perhaps this particular sentence is provocative, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Swimming against a tide, even just standing still against it, is a scary thing to do. At any moment you might be publicly knocked from your feet. People might tut and sigh, shake their heads at you and comment upon how foolish you were to have tried to be any sort of opposition to the mainstream. But without opposition can the world ever have balance? If we were all to sanitise our natures, our thoughts, our opinions so that they matched everyone else’s, what would that world look like?

I don’t believe that, in refusing to be swayed by my proof-reader’s opinion and allowing my character’s viewpoint to exist, I am performing any great act of revolution. I know that this particular sentence will likely not change the world.

Yet – if it makes just one person consider what they had previously taken so much for granted might, indeed, have another side to it – well, then it has, in fact, utterly and irrevocably changed the world.

In my book, that has got to be a very good thing.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: Over a month has passed since I published this, the finale in the 'Beyond Veils Series'! The time has flown. I've already had some wonderful messages and reviews about 'The Hope of Us'. If you've grabbed yourself a copy, then don't forget to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? (If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, click here to be taken to the Amazon page).

P.P.S . Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two - is now available as an Audiobook! You can download it from Amazon, Audible or the Apple Store. It's about 11 hours of fantastic narration by the wonderful actress, Amy Foley of a story that asks 'how do you remain a good person when bad things keep happening to you?'. Get it now, here .

P.P.P.S I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - here . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.P.S * NEW * Beyond Veils Series 'Fan-Club': A quick reminder that the first gathering of the Beyond Veils Series 'fan-club' is on 20th October 2020 from 7pm to 7:30pm. If you're interested in attending, then hit reply to this email and I will send you the Zoom meeting details. Also worthy of mention is that the full series collection has just been published as a single eBook - and at a significant discount of 44% on the total purchase price. Get 'The Beyond Veils Series Collection' for just £9.99 here .

Silence & Stillness, Lessons from a Horse

Wed, 30 Sep 2020 16:05:17 GMT

...how horse spirit teaches me to be a better person (& writer)

When I was younger, I owned a horse. A beautiful chestnut gelding whom I adored. I trained him in the art of dressage. He trained me in the art of life and spirit.

It was through my horse, and the other horses I had the privilege of knowing, that I began to understand the power of intention and attention. How these two elements are the most productive of tools and, importantly, how both of them require a high degree of comfort in being still and silent. Valuable skills indeed.

Watch the top-level dressage riders perform their art; they barely move. Most observers, especially those that have never experienced what it is like to sit upon a horse, will often comment that it looks like the horse is ‘doing all the work’. But to sit that still and to be that in tune with a horse takes exceptional skill. The rider’s stillness, their physical silence, is, in fact, an indication of their mastery. There is powerful movement occurring, but it is so finessed, so attuned to the animal, in both balance and respect of the animal’s capabilities, that the merest of thoughts, the subtlest indication of intention and the tiniest twitch of muscle is sufficient for complete understanding to exist between man and beast. The ‘sport’ of dressage should look as if these two spirits are one whole, combined and in total harmony with each other. It is beautiful to look upon and ecstatic to experience.

I found that first connection to spirit through horses. They mean so much to me still – albeit that I no longer actively participate in that world. Horses are freedom, power and love incarnate to me. In my youth, they challenged me physically, emotionally and mentally. I remain grateful to them for directing my awareness to the presence of bigger meanings. They are the reason why a uniquely powerful horse-type character features in my first book, ‘The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One’ and who performs the role of spiritual guide to the main character.

I have taken the teaching my horse gave me and used it in many other areas of my life. The bravery, patience and faith I learnt upon his broad back is still within my heart. The stillness and silence that I needed in order to be connected to him and be worthy of his obedience is where I now go to when I write. Now, instead of communing with a beloved animal friend, I commune with inspiration. In silencing myself, I am better able to hear the words I am given. I am better able to follow the truth of emotion. I can hear my curiosity.

But it is hard to do this! I live a busy day to day life (we all do). I have been trained, by other aspects of my upbringing, like most of us, to multi-task. To look outwards rather than inwards. I am as much of a sucker as the next person to the culture of celebrity and exposure. Within these spaces, I am sold the line that the ‘successful’ are the ones who spend their time in broadcast-mode. I feel pressurised to keep up, to be the loudest in the room, to attend every ‘party’, to be up to date with the latest news and trends, to have the most friends and followers. As someone whose work requires exposure – the more people who find out about my work, the wider my stories travel, the more viable my life of writing may become - I find myself regularly falling prey to this viewpoint.

Lord though! The clamour, this grabbing and elbowing way of conducting my life – frankly it scares me. I cannot do it. Where is the grace to that kind of life? Where is the consideration and careful placement? Where is the time for my heart to tell its own perspective? Where is the space for my truths to be revealed, shy and nervous as they are? How am I to coax them out into the light and make sure I have seen the fullest depths of them, if ‘success’ demands that all this be done on fast-forward settings?

No. I must return to my beginning. To the formative lessons I learnt in the company of my horse. I must go slowly and avoid spooking the beast I hope to be in harmony with. I must have faith that, with a focused intention and application of my attention the outcomes that are meant for this life of mine will arrive. I must remember that all I need to do is relax, keep showing up, keep practising, keep honouring spirit in all the forms that it turns up for me in my life.

This is where success is. This is where home will be found.

I shall speak only when wholly necessary. I shall move only when it is essential. I shall hone my strength, expand myself from within (not from without). Deploying my skills in silence and stillness, I shall hope to live in harmony and creation of truth and beauty.

This I learnt from my horse.

Rachel x

P.S. The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: Once again, I have reason to be deeply grateful for a whole load of you, dear readers! Thank you for turning up and supporting the launch of my third book last week. I've already had some wonderful messages and reviews about 'The Hope of Us'. If you've grabbed yourself a copy, then don't forget to let me know what you think of Mona and her answer to the question; can love overcome a legacy of abuse? (If you haven't yet got a copy, then fear not, there is a handy link to the Amazon page below).

P.P.S . I have a podcast too! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - HERE . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.S Audiobook lover? The second Book in the Beyond Veils Series - The Truth of Her - is coming to Audible soon! I'm just going through the final quality-checks with Amy Foley, the brilliantly talented narrator who I worked with on the audiobook version of The Point of Me. Watch this space for details of when it launches.

P.P.P.P.S * NEW * Beyond Veils Series 'Fan-Club': I've been asked by one of my lovely readers to arrange an online get together of other readers so that they may chat amongst themselves about the various characters the series includes. As this lovely lady said " I have no one else to talk to about the mark these books have made on my soul and I so want to share thoughts and my love of the characters. " So, what else can I do but to arrange this forthwith! A 20-30 minute gathering on Zoom of a weekday early evening, with a brief introduction from me followed by questions and chat is what I have in mind. I'll be writing out with dates soon - but if you like the sound of being involved in this then stick your hand up now (use the contact form) and let me know so that I can make sure you're included in the arrangements.

Resolute Acceptance

Mon, 10 Aug 2020 09:40:08 GMT

...a family member taken suddenly ill has me thinking about imposter syndrome.

Writing is what I love to do. At times it feels dangerously exposing. I feel that now; exposed. There is a voice whispering to me about my deception of myself - that I am an impostor.

You see, I have written books about topics that I have very little experience of. I have dealt with events and emotions in my stories that I have not actually, in ‘real-life’, stretched my own heart around. Not yet at least.

For instance, ‘The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One’, sees the main character, a young-man, face a tragically early death from a terminal illness.

How dare I describe events that I haven’t lived? How can I put a character through something that I have not suffered? How could I possibly evoke the essence, the tragedy, the beauty in these moments with any hope of accuracy?

Normally I can squirm away from this voice’s grip.

Then my father got ill. An emergency type of sudden-happening illness.

The mobile phone buzzed across my desk; ill fate coming. The obedient technology was announcing a call from my elder sister. That was the first clue. I couldn’t remember the last time that she had had cause to phone me. I had time to think “Uh-oh, this is going to be bad news.”

It was. I listened to her matter-of-fact reportage of an ambulance being called, chest pains, tears of fear and worry from Mum, rendering her unable to be the bringer of this announcement, hence why my sister was calling. “I’m sure all will be fine; the paramedics are checking him over now.” Distant-sibling-speak for “let’s not get too emotional in the presence of one another”. I agreed. Of course I did. It’s what we do.

I put the phone down, one half of my brain considering the practical logistical implications that this news brought to my day; how would the work and school pick up commitments segue into hospital visiting times. The other half of my brain? That was in conversation with that unkind voice; you wrote about this in assumption that you knew what death and grief are, so now you might get to really experience it. Let’s see how naïve you were, if you were in any way close to what you are going to feel.

In truth, I did not know what to feel, nevertheless I felt compelled to find words. I began to construct wild and upsetting scenes of how this particular theatre play might run. I imagined the emotional descriptions that I might need to use for this ‘hoped-would-never-be-written’ chapter of my real-life story. If this were to happen, I said to myself, it would be the first untimely family death I have suffered.

I am very grateful for my lack of personal experience with death, and don’t attempt to conceal it. I willingly admit this to any reader of ‘The Point of Me’ who asks this. The book explores the meaning of death, and therefore life, and in particular family life.

I wrote that particular story for lots of reasons. One of them was a growing desire to face my own mortality and document my search for a greater meaning to this life. In simple terms, I put my character through the trauma of an approaching death, because I wanted to sit within my own ideas and thoughts of what this actually means.

Someone very close to me speaks of his “resolute acceptance of death”. I think this is one of his greatest ‘superpowers’. It makes him braver than most, fiercely inquisitive and unlikely to be manipulated. He is able to manage his fear in a way that I am not yet capable of, but hope to become.

This phrase, ‘resolute acceptance of death’, originates from the world of samurai warriors, where it was part of their code of honour. It indicates a degree of ‘comfort’ with death’s arrival in whatever form it may take and that, because this is unknown to all of us, life should be lived therefore to one’s best and highest level, such that when death does arrive, in that moment there is no regret. It is an ideology that speaks, to me at least, of living one’s life awake and aware to the value of even the smallest of things.

It was in exploration of this idea that I wrote that first book. I wrote my second book in similar analysis. I am writing my third book with this still in mind – an opportunity to explore the questions that I have, and to test the small details, the theories I have of where the answers to life’s big-questions possibly lie.

My father’s illness was temporarily acute, but is hopefully not life-threatening. It was in fact a gift. In the immediate aftermath of the news, when I sat in a numbed-daze of all the fearful outcomes that might occur, I was able to consider how I feel about this inevitability. And I realised something – I am not ‘faking’ anything in my writing. I am exploring, discovering and describing my progress. I have no absolute answers to the big fears that stalk me (that stalk all of us). I am at least doing my best to prepare and be alive to the beautiful, tiny details that may, in time, add up to one.

The next time I see my father, I will make sure I tell him that I love him in a way that he hears it. Just in case. I am sure that in the moment this will scare both of us, for we will both understand what is behind the necessity of saying this emotion out loud. But I will say it anyway.

No more faking in this life. Only exploratory acceptance.

Rachel x

P.S. **Coming Soon** - The Hope of Us, Beyond Veils, Book 3: You may have noticed that I have been busy on getting my third book ready for publication - I may have mentioned it once or twice along the way! Well, this month it will finally be launched upon the shelves of Amazon! Set the date in your diary - **27th August** - and ready your eReaders and paperback shelves. Watch this space for more details about the story and a hint about who 'the hope of us' is.

P.P.S . I recently launched a pod-cast! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are - HERE . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.P.S Whilst waiting for The Hope of Us, would you consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2? If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

What's love got to do with it?

Fri, 03 Jul 2020 10:41:14 GMT

Plenty as it happens...

I heard about a politician crying in the houses of parliament the other day. It was lovely.

It was lovely because of the reason she cried; in lament of how loveless a society we reside in. It was a powerful demonstration of heartfelt human compassion, unusual enough to make headlines.

She was focused upon one particular aspect of what it seems is a constant background thrum of our society’s general 'loveless-ness' - she campaigned about a particular piece of social-care law, citing how this had caused some of her constituents to take their own lives. She wept when she read their names out, no doubt because as she did so, she recalled the individuals, invoked their lost humanity. Named them. Specific, real, actual once-here people. Mourned their vulnerability against a faceless, unloving society which had acted in such a manner that made these individuals feel they had no option but to leave, in the most permanent way possible.

A few weeks earlier to this politician’s tears, there was news of a celebrity’s untimely death by suicide. A so called successful, beautiful, ‘got-it-all’ kind of woman who had decided that she no longer wished to suffer her ‘success’. Not if, apparently, it meant she was condemned to feel as judged, vulnerable and discarded as it was reported she did.

I don’t generally buy into the idea that ‘everything is going to hell in a handcart’ or listen to the fear-selling doomsayers who are fond of pronouncing that we live in the worst of times.

I think that humanity has ‘suffered’ upon this beautiful celestial rock from the very first press of our toes upon its clay. Today’s world has problems, for sure. Yesterday’s world did too. Tomorrow’s world will again. I am not advocating a manifesto for nihilism and negativity.

These examples though, they do ask me to face my conscience.

I, like you, hear these stories and immediately feel powerless - how can I change society? How could I have prevented the heartless social-care law? How could I have reached out to a remote celebrity in their London penthouse? Indeed, how?

But if not me, then who? Who is responsible? What is society? Who are the anonymous ‘they’ that we all come to point the accusing finger at?

Society is not separate from us; it is not some alien overlord. We are society, the actions we take, the words we say, write and print – and choose to read. This is who ‘society’ is. It is you. It is me.

So, we begin with what we have. What I have, what I know to be true within my experience is that love is all there is. It is the only thing that makes sense. That any intention that holds love within it, will be a good one and will turn out well in the long run.

Consider, however, what love is. Shall we be fooled into believing that love is only as portrayed within glamorous ‘rom-com’ films. Shall we be convinced that it is all about ‘rainbows’ and ‘light’ too?

I have an inkling love is not about always giving to others, at the sacrifice of your own needs. I have a theory love is a blaze, an immolating conflagration. A demanding discipline for action. It requires you to be a seeker - to evolve towards what you sense to be your higher self. My hunch is love points at our own loveless behaviour, our own dark corners of our hearts and asks us to resolve and accept these. I think love wants us to face our fear and shame and learn from them with the promise of a greater loving embrace when we do. Love asks us to consider the validity of our own respective churches – the quality of our own souls and how we represent our higher-selves in the here and now – before we pass judgement on others. This is what I suspect love is.

In my third book, the last, I believe, of the Beyond Veils series, I am focusing upon a character whose behaviour is recognisable to most of us; a highly successful paragon of modern society. I am exploring the darkness of his ‘church’. He was a character who featured in my first book, ‘The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One’. When I first created him, I was interested only in portraying his ridiculousness. I wanted to parody him, mock him. It was useful to the story.

I was asked about this character back when the book came out; will you redeem him?

My answer back then was a firm ‘no’. I did not think that there was anything of long-term interest in this deliberately constructed slightly two-dimensional man. But inspiration had planned a different path for us both.

Within my conscience was a question about how ‘loveless-ly’ I had treated this character and if I was being fair to condemn him so thoroughly. The idea of how this character might be redeemed began to grow, and with it has come a greater personal exploration of what love is. Questions of what love might look and feel like. Of how she – for love is manifest as a female character in my book - might move this dark character to a point which means his soul is saveable.

For, perhaps, within even the darkest hearts there lies the original spark of divinity that is always worthy of love. There are good reasons why this character has chosen to deny love. His story is of how love refuses to be denied by him, how it forces him to see the reasons behind the life choices he has made and how they have constructed his current circumstances and his future states. Love will show him how he may be saved and be returned to the divinity that love is.

As the song goes… “the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return”.

Imagine if we were all schooled in these ways and if we all celebrated being loving over and above having power or control. Imagine what a love-full society we all would be.

Rachel x

P.S. I have recently launched a pod-cast! Published on Apple Podcast - it is called " Letters from an Author " and features me, reading aloud these letters that I send to you, my subscribers, my friends. You can download and listen to the episodes - about 10 minutes or less per episode, because I know how busy we all are, HERE . I had great fun recording them, I hope you enjoy listening.

P.P.S . Talking of being busy - the third book of the Beyond Veils series is being readied for publication. I'm hoping for an early autumn date. If you would like to be part of a select group of people who get to read the book first, prior to the official publication date then you can apply to join my "Advanced Reader Group". Just reply to this email and we can chat about what that means.

P.P.P.S Would you consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2? It is approaching the 1st anniversary of its publication date and it would be a wonderful "birthday" gift for me (and it!). If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

Mindless & Going Through The Motions

Fri, 05 Jun 2020 17:25:18 GMT

...how much of life do we spend simply going through the motions? Being in motion purely for the momentum, for the habit, for the busy-ness?

I was pulled to a standstill the other day. Out walking the dog, under an early summer sky. It was a sudden and enforced stillness in the tide of my busy day; the dog was rooted at the end of the lead, refusing to budge, particularly interested in a patch of grass, a fox trail or a rabbit’s recent lunch spot perhaps?

Anyway, in this space of stillness, it occurred to me how much of life we spend simply going through the motions. Being in motion purely for the momentum, for the habit, for the busy-ness. Getting carried along upon a stream that may, long ago, have ceased to be of use or relevance to us.

I know this, because for most of my life, I spent my time going with the flow of a life’s choices that had, long ago, become simply wrong for me.

I had fallen into a 'stream' of life that most observers would have described as comfortable, normal, occasionally happy. It was a benign stream, to those onlookers at least. But I was going through the motions. I was speaking when I was expected to, turning up in the manner that would keep others happy. Putting a plastic smile upon my face and choosing conversation topics that were appropriate and certainly non-threatening. I was being conscientiously dutiful, bearing the weight of this life I had - carrying it for so long that I no longer recognised its heaviness.

I didn’t see how I was limited by its construction – how duty and 'good-girl' pleasing had created a filigree of ironwork around me and my heart’s true wishes. A cage that I had decorated to make it the best I could. But a cage, nonetheless.

I heard a quote a long time back, who said it, and exactly what they said, has faded from my memory, suffice to say that I have made it my own now. It was in the context of why people are attacked, raped, killed, particularly women, and the quote goes – “politeness can kill you.” Conditioned to be pleasant – even when danger was looming and to be rude could prevent its touch, probably.

I wish I had been ruder.

I wish I had hurt more people earlier in my life. Don’t misunderstand, I just mean I should have risked disappointing them. I wish that I had cared more for my own heart than theirs, on balance. That the truths I should have spoken, had been done sooner, before things got too involved, complicated, misunderstood. Before I had placed myself in that cage and made myself look a particular way to everyone else.

I wish I had had the courage to stand against the rushing waters of my life and demand of them that they let me get back to the shore. I wish I had not performed the mime of my life for as long as I did. I wish I had risked the displeasure of others in favour of my own pleasure.

Going through the motions though is a compellingly enticing option. I don’t really blame myself for those choices. I was young. I had been trained well in the art of compliance. I thought that rebellion didn’t appeal to me. It seemed cliched, over the top, melodramatic even. The more ‘graceful’ way was to lean into the duty, feel its yoked weight and justify that I was pleasing others. Being the one that people could rely on, the one that got things done. The responsible one.

I see echoes of myself at that time within my daughter’s decisions now; how she performs little acts of self-sacrifice, tiny moments in time when she places herself into a ‘duty cage' as the easier option than risk disappointing a friend, or potential boyfriend. I see this, and I try to speak up on her behalf. In as much as a mother can ever be heard, I try to give her an understanding that sometimes being disagreeable is the kindest thing she can do for herself. She will make mistakes, of course, but I hope that she will be braver in this aspect than I was in my youth.

These thoughts, this experience of how I lived, has become part of the weave and weft of the character of Lyra in both my novels; a young woman faced with terrible sorrow and responsibility who chooses, perhaps because of her spirit’s innate strength and capability, to take on duty and service beyond her years. Lyra is an admirable character because of this, but our truth will always insist upon being heard, and so, in the story, Lyra’s truth eventually becomes clear.

And my truth did too.

As I floated within the stream, chronically dissatisfied, vaguely aware of the depth of unhappiness that sat within me, considering myself invisible and processing thoughts such as “ is this it ?” and “ my time is behind me ”, I saw ahead of me a beautiful, powerfully strong, arm. It was held out over the river of my life, and offered to pull me from the dark waters of my pretending, promising me more time, more life. Avowing that I deserved to be seen. As me. Just me. No cage. No more going through the motions.

Friend, I grabbed that arm, gripped it tightly, wound my fingers around theirs and promised myself I would never let go.

I am a distinctly more disagreeable person than before. I am a distinctly more truthful person too. Happier because of this.

And thankful that I am given reminders of this gift - the dog got a pat for unknowingly giving me the chance to be motionless and mindful once more.

...

P.S. I am busy - mindfully of course! - getting the third book of the Beyond Veils series ready for publication. I'm hoping for an early autumn date. If you would like to be part of a select group of people who get to read the book first, prior to the official publication date then you can apply to join my "Advanced Reader Group". Just use the Contact-Me form on my website and we can chat about what that means.

P.P.S I'm going to repeat this P.P.S again for the third month - I'm still in need of a bit of help. Would you consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2? It needs to catch up with it's 'big brother', my first book, in the 'number of reviews posted' stakes! If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

P.P.P.S Are there other helpful things you can do for me? Well yes, thank you for asking! You could let your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, and encourage them to consider purchasing a copy for themselves. If you fancy doing this, well I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post! Just click on those links and post away. You will have my lasting gratitude, helped me contribute towards the household bills, and earn a 'super-fan' star for yourself.

(all book/audiobook links in this email are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

Upside down lives...

Fri, 01 May 2020 11:44:35 GMT

Imagine a society which acknowledged every day, in really valuable economic ways, how vulnerable we all are...

In recent weeks it has been repeatedly proven that the most valuable roles in each of our lives are not the ones that get valued the most, generally speaking.

I am referring to the deliverers, the orderlies, the cleaners, the collectors, the stackers, the drivers, the carers, the growers and the nurses.

It has been people performing these jobs that have kept my life comfortable, and it is not the first time that I find myself wondering how upside down we often get things. Why are these people not celebrated on a more general basis? Why is it that their “value” only becomes apparent when Mr Maslow’s pyramid is stripped bare, decayed by a human wide fear-event?

I have a theory; that it is exactly because of our frail humanity that we behave this way – turning away from anything that points to how gossamer thin our safety is, disregarding how easy it is to have our comfortable lives unravelled. To look this plain reality fully in the face is too scary.

So, as bizarre as our slavish worship of individuals whose skills are, for example, an aptitude to kick a ball about a field, it is symbolic of our need to forget about our vulnerability, to move our minds towards lighter and less threatening thoughts and realities. We share an ability to ignore the obvious about our lives, to concentrate on the unnecessary often at the expense of the vital. To focus on our own needs and wants before those of others.

Elizabeth Gilbert in her book ‘Big Magic’ writes of how useless most creative types would be in a post-apocalyptic world. I agree with her! My skills just wouldn’t prove that useful to my survival! That’s true of most people’s “role” in this modern world. Strip away the luxuries of modern life, return our lives to “war-footings” and most of what we celebrate and value would not, could not, continue to exist.

Bell Hooks in her book, ‘All About Love’, speaks of our society’s obsession with death. We watch movies about it, we play video games about it, we write books about it (I did), and we all try to stay young, worshipping the cult of youth in the hope, presumably, that we may be the first to avoid death. Whilst some of this is understandable and, I would go so far as to say, part of the normal human-condition, it is interesting that society doesn’t place as much time, attention and value into being loving, into being fair and into recognising our mass connection. Until, that is we are made to suffer and feel pain.

The film ‘Constantine’ features a frustrated Angel Gabriel who is sick of humanity’s treatment of each other; war, famine, greed, in the face of the gifts that we have been given. Gabriel – at least this heightened comic book version - decides to put the whole of humanity into utter peril and condemn us to insufferable pain. Not as a punishment though. No, the narrative goes that this is the only way Gabriel has seen humanity reach for our best values, our higher selves. When we have been stripped back to our barest needs, when we have nothing else left but our innate sense of connection to one another, or our compassion and our hope that better things may come.

Imagine though, a society which did acknowledge every day, in really valuable economic ways, how vulnerable we all are. Would this world feel fairer, would it in fact feel less threatening?

One of the characters in both my published books – and who features heavily in my, coming-soon, third – is a spectacularly selfish character who has spent his whole, fear-filled life gathering wealth and power in the steadfast belief that it will protect him. His protagonist has a different view of how his salvation may be achieved, and she is going to give him the lessons and provide him with the irrefutable proof of it - whether he likes it or not!

In this manner, this character learns what these past few weeks have made me think about. I am left wondering this – perhaps this life of mine was never meant to be actually about ‘me’, ‘myself’ and ‘I’?

Perhaps, I wonder, what I am intended to consider is ‘you’ and ‘we’ and ‘us’.

P.S. I posted a free-giveaway of the audiobook version of my first novel, 'The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One' on my Facebook and Instagram accounts the other month. It is a small gesture in the grand global scale of the crisis, but might just help one person feel a little less isolated or even bored. There are still some free-codes left. So if you would like to have a free audiobook to listen to - then use the Contact-Me form on my website and let me know. If you know of a friend or family member who might want to take advantage of this, then please do share this blog post with them.

P.P.S May I ask for a bit of help from you now? Would you consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2? It needs to catch up with it's 'big brother', my first book, in the 'number of reviews posted' stakes! If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

P.P.P.S Are there other helpful things you can do for me? Well yes, thank you for asking! You could let your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, and encourage them to consider purchasing a copy for themselves. If you fancy doing this, well I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post! Just click on those links and post away. You will have my lasting gratitude, helped me contribute towards the household bills, and earn a 'super-fan' star for yourself.

(all book/audiobook links in this post are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

Justice and Love

Fri, 03 Apr 2020 11:46:04 GMT

to believe in justice and love is to connect with our higher-selves and our collective humanity...

(I wrote and scheduled the following blog for publication a number of weeks ago, long before the Covid-19 related societal controls were in place. I sincerely hope you are all well and coping with how your daily life now looks and feels like - there's an offer at the end of this post that might help the isolation boredom).

Today I am mindful to discuss the topic of justice and the quality of the energy that rises when one is on the end of its opposite – injustice.

I most recently saw this bloom within a young family-member’s heart – how she exploded with heated anger and outrage at the unfair treatment by someone she has long called a friend (a person who she considers she has been faithful to, and often stood up for). It was a piece of disappointing behaviour that in the grand scheme of a long life will fade from the memory. A silly bit of nastiness that resulted in hurt feelings. But, “sticks and stones” aside, it made my relative feel like she had been pushed beneath the wheels of a ‘judge and jury’ juggernaut.

As I spoke to my relative, I dared her to consider challenging it. She countered that there was no such thing as justice. What she was really expressing, I believe, was an understandable fear of standing up for herself, of demanding that she be treated in a fair and reasonable manner. She feared the greater ramifications of being the first in her peer group to actually name the behaviour. That to act in such an anomalous fashion, even if her arguments were valid and would be judged by most to be ‘fair’, would be to isolate herself within her friendship group.

Author, Bell Hooks writes in her book ‘ All About Love ’: “There is so much injustice (in society) and such a conspiracy not to discuss it…” Hooks goes on to discuss how often injustice is allowed to prevail because it would “cost too much to fix” the underlying issues. It seems that “...greed is considered legitimate while brotherly love is not.”

As per Bell Hooks’ observation, my relative felt strongly that her complaint of injustice would be deflected, that she would be dismissed too easily as being ‘over-sensitive’ and that the ‘cost’ of fixing the damage she felt had been inflicted upon her by her friend would be entirely too much for that friend to bear.

There is sadness in this simple example of injustice that applies to both the micro and macro of all our lives. To believe that there is no justice, that it is pointless to hope for it, is I think, to give up on the idea of our higher-selves and on our collective humanity. To expect fair and reasonable treatment is one of the basic tenets of a caring society.

For beneath our discussion on justice there is a greater power flowing. A power that is transformational and one which I believe we all have access to; that power is love. Love is what supports justice, and lovelessness is what leads to injustice.

It was no doubt a lack of love in her life that triggered the hurtful behaviour of my relative’s friend. A fear driven reaction to something, an acting-out, that in the moment was designed to hurt and to control. It certainly was not loving behaviour of a generous friend.

Some may find satisfaction to this quandary in a call for revenge. Indeed, my relative did come up with all manner of ways in which this “so-called” friend’s secrets could be unveiled in dramatic fashion and to devastating effect. “That will teach them not to mess with me,” went the rhetoric.

Revenge can feel powerfully righteous to even the best of us. How compelling it can be to think of delivering your harsh lesson upon your attacker, feeling great satisfaction as they realise the error of their ways and beg you for forgiveness. This is what I wrote about in The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two. It was the choice that the main character, Lyra, had before her – to enact powerful and horrific revenge in return for a vile attack that she was put through. In the story she is goaded by a dark, wood-witch manifestation of her elemental anger and rage. Lyra is wholly taken up in the powerful storm and gratification of doing to others what was done to her and she does indeed craft her own definition of justice. But what then?

When we are the judge and jury of somebody’s actions, no matter how hurtful they feel for us, can we ever really be sure that our definition of ‘justice’ is the correct one? How do we know that we haven’t simply retaliated in kind?

The law of karma is often thought of as the ultimate, divine justice. But this law too is often misunderstood. It is not a law of ‘punishment’ as some are keen to have it be. It is a law of cause and effect. All of our lives are noted within the Akashic Records – each action, each thought and feeling. They all carry a positive or negative ‘charge’ to them in the balance of our life’s account. This balance is a determination of our reincarnation states.

The good news is that it is mostly within each of our capabilities to live a life that gives a better chance of finishing on a positive karmic balance.

So, does Lyra’s vengeful enactment of justice work out for her, or does she come to regret it as a moment of weakness and bear the consequences? You’ll have to read the book to find out; no spoilers here.

I can say how my relative dealt with her example of injustice. Having taken time to calm down, she has subsequently spoken to her friend about the impact of her actions in as truthful yet non-confrontational manner possible. The friend has not accepted this as a truth, yet (perhaps she never will), but my relative feels happier that a form of justice has been enacted. As such she feels freer to move on and await what outcomes the universe has for them both, content for it to be within divinity’s hands to decide.

That seems like a loving, fair and reasonable result. As Bell Hooks says “Love is as love does”

P.S. If I may return now to the isolation and lockdown status that we find ourselves in, because of the Covid-19 fears; I posted a free-giveaway of the audiobook version of my first novel, 'The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One' on my Facebook and Instagram accounts the other week. It is a small gesture in the grand global scale of the crisis, but might just help one person feel a little less isolated or even bored. There are still some free-codes left. So if you would like to have a free audiobook to listen to - then use the Contact-Me form on my website and let me know. If you know of a friend or family member who might want to take advantage of this, then please do share this blog post with them.

P.P.S May I ask for a bit of help from you now? Would you consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2? It needs to catch up with it's 'big brother', my first book, in the 'number of reviews posted' stakes! If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

P.P.P.S Are there other helpful things you can do for me? Well yes, thank you for asking! You could let your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, and encourage them to consider purchasing a copy for themselves. If you fancy doing this, well I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post! Just click on those links and post away. You will have my lasting gratitude, helped me contribute towards the household bills, and earn a 'super-fan' star for yourself.

(all book/audiobook links in this post are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

Your life requires you...

Wed, 04 Mar 2020 15:56:59 GMT

... if you do not turn up to your own life and its creative acts...

I have a confession. I did it again! I awoke wishing that overnight somebody had waved a magic wand, cast their magic spell and that everything I hope to achieve with my work is done. I am become! I am completed by this stranger’s ‘magic’. I am an ‘overnight success’.

I have more to confess; I continued this dream onwards into my day. Over breakfast, I imagined how a benevolent benefactor knocked, unsolicited, upon my door and enthusiastically offered to publish my work for no other reason than they love and admire it and wanted simply to help me.

Don’t we all have such daydreams from time to time? Don’t we all wish that somebody else could make things just happen for us? Isn’t that why those TV talent shows are so popular? Sometimes I can feel quite overcome by my soul’s longing for the final ‘result’, sometimes the temptation of a short cut to ‘success’ seems oh so irresistible. In these moments, I am a child, greedily eyeing up the jewel-like confectionary in the sweet shop jars.

They are harmless musings and very common, but they are foolish and I am a fool if I choose to dwell too long.

Oh yes, the hard work, the anxiety, the strain and the worry would just disappear overnight and suddenly the things I desire would be getting handed to me on a plate. I would have fast forwarded through all the dislikeable aspects of working for what I want. I would have at it all. Hurray!

Now what? I’ve achieved my goal. What is to come next? Where will I point my attention, my effort? How will I improve on what went before? What learning did I garner from getting all I wanted handed to me on a plate? Am I even in charge of it anymore? Perhaps I should ask that generous wand bearer – it was their spell that created my success after all…

What have I missed out on by taking such a short-cut? What opportunities for attaining even greater successes did I sacrifice by wishing my work away onto somebody else? How richer could I be in the understanding of my craft, my topic. How many interesting people have I missed out on meeting as I leap-frogged straight to the end? Some of the biggest lessons, the most valuable learning of my life has risen from the furnace of my mistakes. If not in the outright errors, certainly in the experience of my tears, toil and effort. This is surely true for each and every one of us?

Here’s what I believe - true, actual magic is woven into creations only by, and because of, the creator’s unique presence during the act of creation. It is their metaphysical magical finger print worked into the creation that gives it life, makes it breathe and allows it to ‘speak’ to others. This is what gives the work authenticity and newness (even though there is nothing new under the sun). This is where the magic is to be found.

I will no doubt find myself indulging in further moments of foolish daydreaming - but I hope I will not remain there too long.

It may be harder work. It may be a tougher life; having to create my own success. But it is a simpler, and truer life too. To lean into the graft, to keep turning up and enjoy the seconds, minutes and hours that stretch out to the months needed to complete a story and publish it as a book – this has its own beauty and sense of grand achievement.

The more I put myself into my work, the more it is my own, the more the work allows me to become me. That’s the magic in every act of creation I do.

It is true of yours too – don’t you think?

P.S. There is something that you can 'create' that is like a 'magic wand' for my writing success - you can consider writing a review for my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2. It needs to catch up with it's 'big brother', my first book, in the 'number of review posted' stakes!

If you have finished reading The Truth of Her - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

P.P.S Talking of helpful things you can do for me - which we were just above, keep up - should you feel like letting your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, and encourage them to consider purchasing a copy for themselves, well I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post! Just click on those links and post away. You will have my lasting gratitude and earn a 'super-fan' star for yourself.

(all book/audiobook links in this email are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

P.P.P.S If you would like to receive notification of these monthly blogs straight to your inbox then you can sign-up to be on my mailing list HERE .

Our monstrous humanity

Mon, 03 Feb 2020 18:16:16 GMT

definitions of evil, lovelessness, redemption and character choices...

I finished reading a book the other day – a monstrous, hideous retelling of how humanity can be capable of terrible cruelty and evilness, how these acts can be made so much worse when carried out with the casual entitlement that so many indulge in. It wasn’t an act of fiction; it was a true story of a real person’s experience here on earth.

It gave me pause for thought – and in that space, I remembered something that I had been told when I was twelve years old.

I had just started secondary school and was in my first art class. I felt comfortable doing art, almost as much as I felt safe writing stories. I remember the peculiar narrowness of the art room, different from every other classroom in the building and feeling how ‘correct’ it was that art got taught in such an anomalous place. The first assignment was announced; we were asked to draw a monster.

I recall placing my concentration upon the paper, pencil in hand, primary paint colours pending, intent upon constructing the most outlandish creature possible. I remember this simply because of what the teacher said next:

“If you want the monster to be truly scary then you should consider making it look as human as possible. ”

Why should it be so? That the image would be made more monstrous if it resembled what I was, what we all are; human.

Is this how evil persists? Is it the perfect disguise? Hiding behind faces of normal looking people. If evil did appear on the streets like the stereotypical horned darkness then it would certainly be much easier to recognise it, see its influence, move away from it – or even confront it. Is this why, our world is constructed so subtly, such that monsters may appear to be just the same as you and I?

Perhaps it is made deliberately subtle - because we are supposed to work to improve our skills of perception and insight, work that would not be necessary, and the learning not so valuable, if the world were constructed of obvious ‘good’ guys and obvious ‘bad’ guys?

The Magus of Strovolos, in the book of the same name, describes a fascinating perspective upon Evil. Detailing his great and prodigious spiritual healing and teachings, the book features one chapter on Possession. The Magus states that “ one should not be hostile and narrow-minded with these [evil] beings… Demons also know how to love” .

I believe that is a surprising viewpoint for most who first hear it.

The Magus goes on to describe a belief that even demons may evolve into the Holy Spirit, that evolution to higher, loving vibrations is entirely possible for these beings. In conversation with another, he explains; “ The work of the angel in the plant and animal kingdom, and in man, is to create blindly and beautifully, through the holy spirit, cells and tissues and to assist in cures. The demon on the other hand does everything that man does. ” The conversation finishes with a declaration that seems meaningful to me, “ so a demon is much more human than an angel .”

Perhaps this is the fundamental truth that my art teacher inadvertently set me seeking to understand more about. Perhaps this is why we recognise that monsters appear so much more monstrous if they reflect our humanity back at us. Our bad choices, our thoughtlessness and greed. Our laziness and conceit. These are, after all, aspects that exist in every one of us.

I don’t remember what sort of monster I drew on that day in art-class all those years ago. Many years later, however, I created a character that might have gone someway to pleasing my teacher. That character’s name is Darnell and he is father to the main character in my first book (The Point of Me, Beyond Veils), James, and to his sister, Lyra, the main character in my second book (The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils).

Darnell is a highly successful man by any standards of the western, capitalist world. He has worked with the fierceness of his own will to amass great wealth and power, reaching the top of his chosen profession and having great influence over many others’ lives. Yet, despite all of this he is a dark, disturbed and deeply shadowed individual. He is morally bankrupt and loveless, and his actions within the stories demonstrate his mistrust of love and his fear of everything that comes with opening one’s heart to such emotion.

I don’t think he is that uncommon a character.

But, just as the Magus’ teachings imply, human-life is never so simple as to be starkly “black and white” – Darnell has reasons for deeply mistrusting love. Is it possible for Darnell to evolve and find his way back to love? What might that “love” look like? Is it always benign and gentle, such as maternal love may be, or can it appear as an immolating blaze, cast upon this earth to test humanity’s ability to embrace it? This is what I am exploring as I write the third book in the Beyond Veils series.

P.S. I'm still celebrating last month's 6-month milestone of the publication of my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book 2. Why not join in my celebrations/give me more to celebrate! If you have finished reading the book - or are getting close to - maybe you would consider letting me, and other potential readers, know what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

If you feel like letting your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, then I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post for you! Just click on those links.

(all book/audiobook links in this post are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

How can you be so certain...?

Fri, 03 Jan 2020 13:03:42 GMT

Is it really such an uncertain world?

There is so much certainty in the world. Do you feel it?

Maybe you had to re-read that line above, because it is more common to hear the phrase “there is so much * un *certainty in the world”.

Our media and our language more often falls back upon hackneyed phrases such as ‘we live in such troubled times’. But I think there has never been an un-troubled time and furthermore I think that the trouble – whatever the latest manifestation of trouble it is - is not because of uncertainty – but rather too much certainty!

Whenever I hear a person discuss something with fervent finality, their assertion expressed of utter totality, demonstrating an obdurate unwillingness to be moved from their perspective, I wonder how they can be so certain. A part of me admires them for it. A part of me is concerned for them.

But I get it – this need for certainty. The whole of humanity is seeking certainty. We love it. It makes us feel safe. It allows us to deny the true fragility of our survival, it allows us to grab at a sense of security. It makes the ground beneath our feet feel solid and stable. It is from where fundamentalism of any creed, race or kind flowers.

Too many people are happy to collect too many facts and not enough truths.

Ever heard that quote by Francis Bacon; “ If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties ”. I feel this. Do you?

It is a positive call to embrace doubt - that being in doubt is always ‘good’, because it will lead us, in that instinctively deep urge, to arrive at certainty (that place of safety and control).

To my heart, beginning in doubt isn’t just a good thing because of the path to certainty that we feel we need. It is a ‘good thing’ because doubt leads to questions. Questions are curiosity. Curiosity is interesting! Seeking out new truths, new discoveries, new ideas and viewpoints is fun. It makes me feel like that moment when the sun appears from behind a cloud and your shoulders are suddenly warm; bathed in comfort, seen by the vast universal life-giving forces.

Then I ask myself; does it end here?

It cannot end there – listen again to Mr Bacon’s words. The moment one arrives in certainty, one is immediately upon a journey that will end in doubts. It is a never-ending circle. It is Ouroboros; the symbolic snake that is swallowing its own tail. Around and around we must revolve, moving from moments of sunlit certainty to clouded doubt.

Perhaps the secret is to become comfortable with the constant motion, to prize the clarity of certainty when our truths appear to us, feel gratitude for the lesson they provide. Then to get straight back to work- seeking and questioning.

Whenever I hear a teacher proclaim that their ‘way’ is the only true way I get nervous. They have stopped looking, are satisfied to stand still in an ever-changing landscape, they are willing to risk not finding a greater truth in return for a ‘stiller’ life.

To my mind one of the ‘safest’ things you could ever hear from a fellow human being, especially one in a position of teaching, is “I am certain of nothing”. To my ears that is a person I feel safer learning with. These are the true scientists.

One of the phrases that I am always particularly delighted to receive from readers in their reviews of my books is ‘thought-provoking’. Why? Because this is where my stories begin – with thoughts, by my questioning the big and the small elements of life and consciousness. When a reader, by their own admission, has been provoked into thought by a book I have constructed, then I can only think of that as a good thing.

But, in the final analysis, seriously, what the hell do I know?

P.S. The audiobook version of my second book, The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two, goes into production this month and I am * certain * that Amy Foley will make another brilliant job of narrating it and bringing all the characters to vibrant life, just as she did with the audiobook of my first book, The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One. Publication date for this second audiobook has yet to be set, but you can be * certain * that I will let you know as soon as I do!

Okay, enough of the * certains *! I'll just leave you with a handy link to the audiobook of The Point of Me: buy it now on Audible.

P.P.S. This month also sees the six-month-versary of the publication of The Truth of Her, Beyond Veils, Book Two . I'm going to celebrate this milestone with a few pixie-dances in the kitchen and copious cups of tea. Perhaps, if you have finished reading the book - or are getting close to - you might consider joining in my celebrations? The best way to do this is to let me, and other potential readers, what you thought of it by writing up a quick Amazon review (this is the third most helpful thing you can do for my writing career, just behind buying the book and reading the book!). Click here to be taken straight to the Amazon page.

If you feel like letting your friends and family know about your enjoyment of The Truth of Her, then I've taken some of the hassle out of it for you by doing a pre-prepared Facebook and Twitter post for you! Just click on those links.

(all book/audiobook links in this post are affiliate links, meaning that if you click on them and then go on to buy, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

Ever met your anger?

Tue, 03 Dec 2019 15:51:50 GMT

I have and she was beautiful...

If you could meet your anger what do you imagine it would look like?

Is that a really bold and courageous question to ask of you? Are you somewhat taken aback by the idea of, firstly, being able to meet one’s own anger, and secondly, that it would look like something at all! Perhaps you are more concerned with the whole idea of meeting something as scary as your own anger! I mean, it is not what we’re brought up to be comfortable with, is it?

I have had the opportunity to meet with my own anger - and it was a liberating experience.

It was during a meditative journey, and I can report that my anger is as silent as the grave, clothed from head to toe in sweeping black cloth - but for her eyes which are obsidian dark, large and all-seeing. My anger moves with a swift grace and a threat of immolation. Nice huh?

Why did I seek to meet my anger in the first place?

Because I am more and more curious about the idea of angry women in denial of it.

I am curious to explore how female anger is seen by society, why it seems to be treated as far more troublesome than male anger might be. For example, throughout my corporate management career, I witnessed many of the men I worked with get angry, outraged, incensed. They shouted, more often swore and occasionally thumped the furniture in an assertive physical manifestation of their emotion. Not once were these men ever criticised for this behaviour, in my experience at least. These men were thought of as strong leaders.

Now we come to me and the women I worked with, who when we had reason to behave in a similarly ‘impassioned’ manner – a raised voice and some strongly worded assertions – came to be criticised as “over emotional” or “hysterical”. For those of us old enough to remember; it is the “calm down dear” car insurance advert scenario of years ago.

I don’t mean to play the gender card too heavily – sweeping stereotypical generalisations aside though, the issue of female anger is really interesting to me.

I think of all those times when I have denied my anger, turned away from her, tried to be “nice”, tried to “manage” situations. I have avoided raising my voice – scared of the unattractive accusation of ‘fishwife’ perhaps. Afraid to show the extent of my power even?

But anger is an energy – just like all our emotions – and energy doesn’t just disappear. What is the energetic result if I continue to renounce my anger? What does she do to me?

Well, when I set my intention to meet my anger in that mediation, I can report that she approached me in grace, and sat beside me with an air of generosity towards me – I recognised it as a willingness to work with me. She remained utterly silent though – her only communication was via her dark eyes. When they met with mine, I sensed her danger, her ability to strike with great ferocity and pain. In that moment, I knew that by ignoring this side of myself I was making myself lesser. I was ignoring her wisdom, her perspective. By keeping her silent I was turning her fire into a deeper conflagration – one that would burst forth suddenly, at the tiniest apparent trigger, and be so much more devastating because of it.

I made a promise to listen to my anger when she rises - to hear the warning she gives me that something is not right. I now act upon this. I have created healthier behavioural and emotional boundaries – ones that satisfy her/my desire to protect me.

And I wrote a story of a young-woman’s struggle with grief, overbearing duty and hurt and how when she is attacked, her anger manifests to devastating effect and gets her into deeper karmic waters. That story is Lyra’s, her anger is a powerful Wood-Witch and the book is called The Truth of Her.

Anger is part of our truth, don’t you think?

Rachel x

P.S. I have been the opposite of angry about how well received my first Audiobook - a recording of my first book, ‘The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One’ - has been. Amy Foley who narrated it and I have been thrilled with the reviews that are in so far. If you'd like to find out for youself how "utterly captivating" and what a "spiritual, uplifting" a story it is (I'm quoting from the reviews by the way!) you can get it at on Amazon, Audible and iTunes.

Buy it now on Audible. (This is an Audible affiliate link, meaning that if you click on it and then go on to buy the audiobook, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

I'd also be very grateful if you could help share this news - here's a link to a prepared Facebook post and a Twitter Tweet .

P.P.S If you'd like to be notified of when a new blog is published, then why not subscribe to my email letter list here.

On all matters doubtful...

Thu, 07 Nov 2019 18:00:01 GMT

What is the purpose of doubt?

Even Stephen King doubted himself. Apparently.

To know that even the “greatest” in their field suffer moments of deep anxiety and doubt, moments of “ is this it? ” and “ am I really only here to work like a dog and never be recognised ” was put forward as a reassurance, to stick with it (whatever it is) and persevere. To have any chance of 'winning', you have to at least be 'in it', be present, turn up daily, improve the craft.

I know the logic of all of the above, and yet, and yet… I doubt myself all of the time.

I bet you doubt yourself and your abilities too.

Some of the most surprising people do doubt their abilities, they appear to have no sense of seeing, or valuing, the very thing that others celebrate about them. People of prodigious talent and apparent confidence, even those who have been paid handsomely for the very thing that they are doubtful of.

Why would this be?

What purpose does doubting oneself actually serve?

The Magus of Strovolos (as you may know, a great story of a brilliant healer in history, albeit an anonymous one) talks about how it is possible for us to create “elementals” by our conscious or sub-conscious thoughts. These elementals have a life of their own. They exist in an energetic form, independent of their projecting creator. Doubt is a thought that can produce such an elemental.

The Magus of Strovolos states that once created, these elementals always return to their source, to feed upon that person’s etheric energy. The fact that the elemental always returns to its creator is part of karmic law. If the person does not recognise this process and work to move their thoughts to ‘higher-self’ vibrations, then the elemental can grow in size and increase its influence over that person. In this manner, thoughts can become more ingrained in our minds. They can influence our beliefs, our actions and then our reality.

Our personalities therefore, and the circumstances that we live within are the sum total of the elementals we ourselves have constructed.

If you have, by your thoughts and behaviour, created a large “doubt” elemental – then what to do about it? The answer is given by the Magus; to acknowledge what purpose the elemental is attempting to fulfil.

Doubt, therefore, does have a purpose. In which case, invite it to speak up when you feel its presence. Ask it what it is trying to warn you of. Listen to its words and thank it for its perspective. Consider the value of its opinion to your heart and soul and, having reached a comfortable decision – one that feels good within your body as well as mind – act upon that.

When it comes to my own doubt elemental, I find myself variously able to dismiss it quickly or wallowing for days within a vat of it! In general though, I am able to acknowledge the “truth” that it attempts to give me and counter it with another truth – how much I love to tell stories to you, how pleasing it is to hear you say “I really got that” and “I can really feel the humanity of it” – that we both feel the same thing, me in writing it, you in reading it, fills me with joy. This is how I can balance out the doubt and know that, even though it might come to nothing more than your readership alone, that your singular attention is totally worth it.

Even Stephen King doubted his writing, and look where that got him.

(and if you’ve read to this point, you’ve just helped dissolve another of my doubt-elementals. Sincere thanks!).

Rachel x

P.S. I had some exciting news this week – my first book, ‘The Point of Me, Beyond Veils, Book One’ is now available as an audiobook on Amazon, Audible and iTunes.

It has been a really interesting – and challenging – experience of getting it narrated and produced. Something that I doubted (yes, there I go again!) I would ever be able to achieve – but with the assistance of Amy Foley, a hugely talented actress and producer, it is finally here. Buy it now on Audible. (This is an Audible affiliate link, meaning that if you click on it and then go on to buy the audiobook, I will get a few more pennies to add to my sales royalties. The price to you remains the same though).

I'd be very grateful if you could help share this news - here's a link to a prepared Facebook post and a Twitter Tweet .

P.P.S. Other links in this blog: I have signed up to be an Amazon Affiliate – as with Audible’s scheme above, it is a good way for me to boost any sales royalties that I receive. The product links in this email are affiliate links – if you click on them and purchase products, I will receive an extra payment from Amazon, but the price of the product to you will remain the same.

Interviews with Authors - Gay Harrison

Mon, 12 Aug 2019 11:04:08 GMT

Rachel speaks with Gay Harrison, author of "Midwife to Medium"

Being an author can be a fairly solitary existence - so I love to reach out to fellow authors, especially those who write in the same genre and feature similar themes as my writing does. These authors are all working so hard to put brilliant and thought provoking writing out into the world, so it is a pleasure to find them and a privilege to ask them a few questions about their writing career.

Today I am featuring the work of Gay Harrison - a brilliant spiritual medium who has turned her spiritual experiences and teachings into a fantastic epic of a fictional story that is packed full of spiritual learning. You can find Gay's book HERE on Amazon (affiliate link).

RD: What was the scariest part of starting out as a novelist?

GH: I didn't find it scary starting out because I've been writing for years. My problem was that I never finished anything, so I suppose the scary part was actually finishing it, then thinking that I had to do something with it. I hadn't the faintest idea how to go about publishing anything. .

RD: What do you wish you knew back then that you know now?

G.H: That the first draft is never the finished article, and to treat it as the 'bones' of a story. So many times I thought I had finished it, only to find that there was so much to add/change. Now it's quite comforting to know that you just have to get it down, and worry about fleshing it out afterwards.

RD: Why did you choose to write in the philosophical/spiritual fiction genre?

G.H: I chose to write in a spiritual genre because I love spiritual philosophy but didn't want it to be a 'religious' book. Even now, I think my book is for a selective audience, and perhaps I should be less philosophical and more generalised in my next book.

RD: What are the writing related things you still struggle with?

G.H: The writing related things I still struggle with is putting myself in someone else's place and being that character. This doesn't always happen and certainly didn't in 'Midwife to Medium', but it seems to be happening with my current book

RD: Who in particular helped you along the way and how did you meet them?

G.H: You did Rachel! You've helped me enormously along the way, in fact it wouldn't have been seen in print without you!! I met you at the book launch of your first book. Thankyou Rachel. Other people who have helped me - I was also helped with the cover by two people, both friends. Both are artists. The person who painted the cover, I met at a meditation evening, and the person who 'made' the cover, I gave somer spiritual help to when she was in need, and this was how she repaid me. It's wonderful how people come into one's life.

RD: What is the best thing a reader/fan could do for you, or has done for you?

G.H: The best thing a reader/fan can do is read then promote and review your book. I've found that some readers lend it out instead of encouraging others to buy it.

If you enjoy books like Gay's 'Midwife to Medium', then you may love my 'Beyond Veils' series. 'The Truth of Her', Book 2, is newly released on both ebook and paperback formats. Order it here (Amazon Affiliate Link - helps boost my royalties by a few more pennies).

Interviews with Authors - J.M. Turner

Wed, 24 Jul 2019 12:43:02 GMT

Rachel speaks with J.M. Turner, author of "Sunshine Girl"

Today I am featuring the work of J.M. Turner - a brilliant storyteller (who also happens to be my editor for my books). You can find Jill's book HERE on Amazon (affiliate link) and her proofreading and editing company is Little Red Lines (contact her via the Facebook Page )

RD: What was the scariest part of starting out as a novelist?

J.M.T: Thinking that whatever I wrote wouldn’t be good enough! As I grew up, my mother regularly told me I should write a book because I had a way with words. She wanted me to write about her life (and believe me, there was a lot to write about) but I shied away from it for a variety of reasons. I bitterly regret that now because she passed away when my eldest child was a baby and the chance was gone. I then spent decades verbally telling original bedtime stories to my own children, starting a story on a Monday night which would run throughout the week or longer, all off the cuff and featuring either them or their favourite toys. They begged me for years to write them down but my confidence waned when I thought of putting pen to paper and life got in the way. My sister was the one who finally pushed me into it. One New Years’ Eve she said that if I wrote a book that year she’d give me £200. I wrote the book.

RD: What do you wish you knew back then that you know now?

J.M.T: That not writing is by far scarier than actually doing it. Self-doubt is the killer of creativity. I wish I’d started far, far sooner than I did—all those stories I told my children were gone as soon as they left my mouth and all that is left is the memory of their giggles and wide-eyed wonder.

RD: Why did you choose to write in the philosophical/spiritual fiction genre?

J.M.T: Sunshine Girl came about, strangely enough, because of my mother. She, one of her sisters, and my grandfather were all spiritualists. She grew up attending at the local Spiritualist Church and believed with all her heart that there was a form of life after we are gone from this one and that some people are able to speak to those who have passed. She talked about this to me a lot as I grew up and, to be frank, it frightened the living daylights out of me. As a child, I had visions of my father (he passed when I was aged 11) watching everything I did, up to and including using the loo. Consequently (and self-protectively), I refuted anything to do with spiritualism and thought it all a load of codswallop for a number of years. I became more open to it after Mum died and I plucked up the courage to visit the medium she used to go to. I didn’t give my name (or any details about myself and I don’t look anything like my Mum so she couldn’t have got anything from that), and she was able to tell me exactly what had happened when Mum passed (I was with her) and also how and when my Dad had died...

After I’d written my first few books, I had a story that niggled at me. What if Mum was right? What if there is something after this tumultuous life? This led on to the question, what if a teenage girl had a tragic accident and didn’t leave this earthly plane? What would make her hang around? What if she finds out her death wasn’t an accident; that she was murdered? How would she feel? What would she do? And so on and so on. The bare bones of the story began to flesh out in my mind and I began to write it from her point of view, incorporating things I didn’t know I remembered from what my mother used to tell me…

RD: What are the writing related things you still struggle with?

J.M.T: Finding the time to write! I also work as an editor and proofreader, so I work on other people’s stories a lot of the time which means my own get side-lined.

RD: Who in particular helped you along the way and how did you meet them?

J.M.T: My youngest daughter. She is my staunch supporter. She reads everything I write, as I write it, and tells me if I make any errors when it comes to teenage dialogue or if anything is unbelievable! She doesn’t mince words, either, so if she tells me something doesn’t ring true, I believe her.

RD: What is the best thing a reader/fan could do for you, or has done for you?

J.M.T: Please, read my books and leave a review. Reviews are like hens’ teeth or gold dust – impossible to come by! Ask at your local library if they have any copies of my books. Tell your friends you liked something I wrote. Word of mouth by a reader is the best way for books to become known.

If you enjoy books like Jill's 'Sunshine Girl', then you may love my 'Beyond Veils' series. 'The Truth of Her', Book 2, is published on 29th July 2019. Pre-Order it here (Amazon Affiliate Link).

Rachel Reads (Book Review): 'Lost Connections, Why You’re Depressed and How to Find Hope' by Johann Hari

Mon, 15 Jul 2019 10:53:30 GMT

This book will probably make you mad before it makes you hopeful!

Rating = 5 Stars

Johann Hari’s second book made me so angry!

In a good way, I hasten to add! It made me mad in an outraged “how can this be possible?” kind of way. In a “lets start a movement!” kind of way. I suspect that this is exactly what Johann wanted his readers to feel – in which case his writing worked.

The book explores the subject of depression in society and the causes for this. In the first section of the book there is a plethora of evidence and discussion about the true effectiveness of big-pharma’s antidepressant drugs. It was reading this evidence that got me so mad and hot under the collar. I don’t mean to be naïve when I say this but how is it possible that the so-called ‘health’ systems are allowed to get away with the prescription of these drugs on such a large-scale when the clinical trial evidence points so clearly to there being more effective, less damaging solutions? The evidence that Johann shares is so compelling. It will stop you in your tracks.

If you are on anti-depressants or anxiety drugs, then this book is mandatory reading for you. I urge you to do so and come to your own conclusions.

I speak from the experience of having a period of time in my life when I too, finally, gave into the pressure from the G.P. to take the anti-depressant pills and consider my deep sadness and despair as “just” a chemical imbalance in my brain. In the end it was easier to do that, than it was to continue to fight against it. Asking the G.P. to help in the alternative ways that I instinctively knew I really needed required too much fight. The pills were the ‘easier’ option – but I never believed they were the ‘right’ option.

I consider myself fortunate; I was able to stop taking anti-depressants fairly quickly – I did not experience the kind of extended use of these drugs that I know Johann himself has lived through, and that many of my friends and colleagues continue to do.

I loved this book for its humanity. I love it for the scientific research and rigour that it is based upon. I love it for the powerful reframing of what depression actually is. I love it for the clear pathway it provides for how depression and anxiety should be approached and understood. I love it for the signposts about the real truth of how you can heal your depression.

Johann has had many super-star celebrities recommend his book – Hilary Clinton and Elton John for instance – he hardly needs my voice being added. But I’m adding it anyway, small though it is compared to the celebrities’, because it is only by every one of us becoming more discerning and awakened to the lies that are regularly pedalled that there is any chance of making the shift change that is needed for a happier humanity!

My last words are Johann’s – next time your family member or friend expresses their depression or sadness to you, ask not “What is the matter with you?”, ask instead “What has happened to you?” (oh, and buy this book, please)

If you enjoy books like 'Lost Connections', then you may love my 'Beyond Veils' series. 'The Truth of Her', Book 2, is published on 29th July 2019. Pre-Order it here .

The Art of Editing...

Mon, 08 Jul 2019 10:59:28 GMT

It takes more than 'just' an author to get a novel written and published. No matter what route of publication is chosen - traditional or independent, self-published - behind every author there is a group of other people who are all playing a vital role in honing and producing that author's writing.

I know that this is certainly true for me. I have a close-knit group of people who I trust with my nervous-heart and nascent stories. Without their assitance, ongoing support and professional skills my books would be much lesser.

So I wanted to highlight a few of these valuable people - to give them their due time in whatever spotlight my 'platform' can provide for them!

First up is the wonderful Jill Merle, who runs a proofreading and editing company called Little Red Lines . Jill has edited both of my books in the Beyond Veils Series, and is super brilliant at it. She is nitpicky in exactly the right way!

So, after she had got over the workload of editing my second book, The Truth of Her, I asked her this question:

What advice would you give anyone who has written a manuscript they intend to publish?

The first piece of advice I would give is to set the finished article aside for a couple of weeks and then re-read it. You will be looking at your work through fresh eyes and stand a better chance of catching any plot holes, spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. Run it through a spell check – Word picks up on grammar issues, too.
Once you are happy you have done the best you can with it, and if you have worked in Word, make use of the ‘Speak selected text’ button (at the very top of the screen). Hide yourself away so you can’t be disturbed, highlight each paragraph, press the button, and listen to your work being spoken aloud. You will be surprised by what you discover may need amending; misplaced punctuation, clunky sentences and stilted dialogue are the main culprits. (If you have worked in a different program, print it out and read it aloud to yourself, marking up areas that just don’t sound right.)
If you have beta readers, send them a copy, give them a week or so to read it, and ask them to tell you what works and what doesn’t. Again, they may pick up mistakes you are blind to (all authors become blind to their own work – your brain knows what you wanted to say and reads it as though that’s what you’ve written)!
Send your work to a proof reader. When I proof anything, I not only check for spelling and grammar errors, I also check word usage. (For example, if you have written the word ‘compromise’ in a sentence where the word required was ‘comprehend’—please note, a spell checker won’t pick this up if you’ve spelled the original word correctly and you may have become blind to it.)
If you have followed all of the above advice your next step is to hire a copy editor. Remember, the cheapest is not necessarily the best; like everything in life, you get what you pay for. Before you hire anyone, do your research. Ask those you like the sound of to complete a sample edit of a few pages and send them each a copy of the same pages (this is important because when it comes back you will then go over each proofed copy carefully). Make sure the editor you choose is the one who hasn’t missed anything, whose work is most closely aligned to your vision, and is also someone you can get along with. This is vital! Your baby is in their hands and if you are unsure of them you won’t trust their judgment. Don’t be scared of all the red marks and comments. Any editor worth their salt will make a lot of comments offering their advice on what you can do to make your manuscript fabulous. Be warned, if you receive work back that has very few comments, the editor is only paying lip service to your manuscript.
So, you’ve chosen your editor, sent it off, and waited with baited breath for it to come back. When it does, take a deep breath, relax, and read their suggestions carefully. It won’t surprise you to know that my next piece of advice is that you make their suggested amendments ! An editor is there to make your work the best it can be. The amendments they suggest are for the good of your manuscript. If you disagree with something ask them why they have made that suggestion, and if you still disagree, you are free to make the choice to leave it as it is—ultimately, it’s your work and your decision. (However, if you find you are disagreeing with a lot of their suggestions, either you have picked the wrong editor or perhaps (sorry) you are being a wee bit precious about your work…)
A good editor will be sympathetic to your work. They will ask questions. They will check in with you that you are happy with what they are doing. They will worry over your work in much the same way you did when you wrote it – your work will, after all, be a reflection on them and they’ll also want repeat business and recommendations…

This is excellent advice from Jill - she is particularly gentle with her suggestions, managing to encase spot-on critiques within a generosity of language that makes taking the knife to one's precious paragraphs much easier to bear!

Thank you Jill.

Jill's company, Little Red Lines can be contacted via their Facebook Business Page HERE .

To stay in touch with when the second book in the Beyond Veils series, 'The Truth of Her’, will be available please sign up to my email newsletter. Just fill out the registration form here .

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