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suzannebowditch

Writer of historical fiction, blogger, mum, pet lover :)

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writing

Writing seminar


Spent the afternoon in Brisbane at a writing seminar, ‘A Conversation with Joanna Penn.’ Joanna is a successful self published author, who was very open and honest in how she went from having a job that she was unhappy in, to being a happy creative writer. She has one of the Top 10 blogs for self publishing advice and has written fiction and non fiction with titles such as ‘How to Make a Living with your Writing.’

I very informative and inspiring afternoon, I came away feeling motivated and confident to continue my own writing journey.☺👍📚🎡

#iamwritingabook #writing #writingseminar #writing

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Book Review: Dead Man’s Land -Robert Ryan

Deeply entrenched as I am in WW1 (no pun intended!), I happened to come across this book whilst browsing my local QBD book store.

Its a fictional crime thriller, which (for me), makes a refreshing change from the more factual aspects of the Great War.

What was so appealing about this book is the POV of the main character. A strong older man and a doctor, Watson’ s previous claims to fame are as Sherlock Holmes’ sidekick.

With his relationship with Holmes estranged, Watson finds himself tending to the wounded along the Western Front. Surrounded by the carnage, a series of bodies turn up, and Watson has to use his detecting skills once more to solve the murders in a place where thousands of soldiers are dying every day.

This book is so well researched, with heaps of historical facts and settings. Added to that, there are both strong male AND female characters. It is a great read, even more so as the character of Dr Watson has always been shrouded in mystery, always one step behind Holmes.

I think Conan Doyle would approve. 4/5 stars.

My reading companion

This is a recent photo of my dog Billy. He’s a fox terrier whose also my reading/writing buddy. Many words have been written on my computer with Billy next to me to offer moral support. I also discuss my characters, settings, and plots with him. If I am writing a tricky patch, I usually make a coffee and bounce off ideas with my pooch. He never answers, just looks at me with those soulful brown eyes. He’ s just turning eight next week and is a sweetie.

Does anyone have a favored routine for ideas? Creativity can be gushing and flow like a huge river or can be a trickle or even a dry river bed (perish the thought!).

“Writing is its own reward.” -Henry Miller 📚

Short Story: Lunch

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Currumbin Beach, Gold Coast

From her vantage point on the balcony of the restaurant she watched as the surfers chased the foamy surf. The midday sun beat down fiercely, endless white sands stretching out towards clear blue sea and skies. They looked like seals, determined to catch that elusive big wave. It was their life long mission, their reason for existing.

‘Is this seat taken?’ a voice spoke as a woman in a brightly patterned dress smiled down at her. Chelsea nodded; yes, taking in a whiff of gardenias from her perfume. She placed her bag on the empty chair and sighed with annoyance. Where was he? His tardiness was starting to annoy her.

She looked around the restaurant. It was starting to fill as the lunchtime rush rapidly approached. It was such a popular spot, built on a rocky outcrop on the shoreline, right next to Elephant Rock. Tourists and locals alike flocked to munch on succulent prawns washed down with light beer and a fabulous view.

Today was no exception.

Sipping her stilled water, her thoughts turned to her absent companion: Luke. They had known each other since high school, losing touch after graduation. Then she had bumped into him at a party, an informal school reunion. They’d barely spoken to each other over the Bunsen burners and dusty literature books, but ten years later things were different. They both loved the beach, fishing and boating on the water, late night classic movies and discovering new restaurants dotted along the coast.

It had been an exciting twelve months.

That’s why the last few weeks had been a bit of a mystery. Luke had started to look detached whilst on their dates, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. He barely listened to her and was constantly late, that was when he bothered to show up at all. There were always feeble excuses; car wouldn’t start, or the traffic was fierce on the highway. Just the other night he told her that his boss had wanted him to fetch supplies in the city, but she sensed that it was not the whole truth.

What was going on?

Someone burst into laughter at the table behind her. She turned her head slightly, glancing at a young family eating lunch with an older couple. Chelsea felt a pull at her heart strings, remembering her own idyllic childhood on the farm in New South Wales. She had chosen to live here, hadn’t she? It was not just because Luke had taken a position as manager of the construction firm? She loved her job in the kindergarten, and her surroundings were breathtaking. A seed of insecurity formed in her mind, a cloud hanging over her, spoiling the perfection of the afternoon. Everyone seemed to be relaxed and animated whilst she felt dark and broody, and alone.

She glanced at her watch. Luke was now a full half an hour late. Maybe this was her cue…did he want to finish with her?

Just then a voice shouted up from the beach. A figure stood by the sandy shore, and she recognised Luke’s muscular physique. He seemed to be knee deep in the water, the waves splashing over him as he waved his arms around frantically and pointed upwards.

The girl on the next table cried out, looking out at the blue horizon.

‘Look up at the plane in the sky. That’s so romantic!’

Chelsea tried to focus on what Luke was trying to say. The waves crashed onto the rocks behind him, making his words distorted. He was smiling, waving, pointing at the sky.

She grinned with delight, clapping her hands over her mouth as she read the banner. Luke ran up the restaurant steps towards her, as the families looked on. The aircraft droned past, trailing the banner behind it, flapping in the sea breezes.

Chelsea – I love you. Will you marry me? – Luke XXX

 

 

BookFace

Printed books v s E books – I know what I prefer.

According to The Huffington Post, (taken from The National Book Review, Oct, 2016) ebook sales are declining, while the printed book sales are steady.

In response to this, here’s 5 valid reasons why we should keep encouraging printed books and keeping this industry alive amongst so much technology.📚

1. Pages! Comforting, soft to touch, smelling lovely and new (or gorgeously old). To compare, ebooks are like reading an ATM machine.

2. You get to keep them! Printed books can add/enhance any collection, and look so cool on a book shelf (especially with an awesome book cover).

3. You can share them. How much bettet to make new friends than through exchanging books? They bring communities together, and can keep friendships thriving. Also, how much more social is a Book Club?

4. Printed books are a physical reminder of good times. How awesome is it to find a favorite book from your childhood amd delve back into those memories – just like a well liked song.

5. Lastly, and from a writer’s point of view, print book publishers are fairer to writers than the ebook version of their work. Publishers give less % royalties to ebooks which makes it that much harder to earn a living

http://www.huffingtonpost.com

Image: My favorite book store on the Gold Coast, BookFace.

Melbourne Trip

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Outside the Hotel Windsor, Melbourne

 

 

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The beautiful foyer of the Hotel Windsor, Melbourne (note the Harpist in the background)

Even though I went down to Melbourne to help my son Liam move there, I could not help but take in the sights!

Alice’s Secret, the second book in A Celtic Trilogy, was set in and around Melbourne, a lovely hidden jewel of a city, with enough bars and restaurants to swing a cat at!

We visited the Museum, the Royal Exhibition building (built during the Marvellous Melbourne era of the 1880s) and toodled along The Great Ocean Road.

My characters, Henry and Bella Jameson, lived in Melbourne in the 1880s and ran a construction company,  making a heap of money on constructing the iconic buildings that we see today. The pictures are of the Hotel Windsor, another  setting in the book.

Alice’s Secret A Celtic Trilogy is available on Amazon.

Elen is the first book, set in Van Dieman’s Land (now Tasmania) during the convict era.

Guest Author: Suzanne Bowditch — Blackwood’s Magazine

I am so honored to have a guest spot on Blackwood’s Magazine. Thank you to C.M. Blackwood ! 🙂

Good evening, readers and writers. Welcome to the second installment of Blackwood’s Magazine’s Indie Author Spotlight for October! Today’s special guest is Suzanne Bowditch. Let’s have a chat with her! Everyone has a story about why they love to write. What’s yours? I have loved to write since a teenager. I entered […]

via Guest Author: Suzanne Bowditch — Blackwood’s Magazine

Writer’s Block? How to Get Your Novel Unstuck — Kristen Lamb’s Blog

Great post 🙂

We’ve all been there. When we started off with this brilliant story idea we just simply knew this was the one. This story we would finish. This time would be different. *insert screeching breaks* (pun intended) Then we hit a wall. We simply can’t seem to move forward no matter how hard we try. We […]

via Writer’s Block? How to Get Your Novel Unstuck — Kristen Lamb’s Blog

University of Iowa: Creative Writing Course

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Photo Credit

 

This is an assignment that I wrote for a creative writing course that I’ve just completed this week. The course ran for six weeks and is with the University of Iowa. Its also free, and we studied the works and poetry of Walt Whitman. Whitman wrote during the American Civil War, and writes themes of loss, tragedy, trauma, death and destruction.Loved the course 🙂

The constraint I used was to write just 10 words on each line; the topic concerned a news bulletin that was playing at the time of writing.

Child, Missing

It’s Monday morning, and the day has just started.

The alarm chimes and I glance out of the window,

The news button is turned on – a child is missing.

A sweet, five year old in a pink t-shirt

Denim shorts and pink shoes complete her ensemble. Blond hair

In braids, and a toothy grin stare at me, innocently

From the TV screen. How must her parents feel today?

The policeman’s voice as I make a breakfast and tea.

A crunch of toast and butter, as the sofa beckons,

I watch. The officer in charge looks worried, concerned, frowning

Under his peaked cap. Where can she be? He shakes

His head, as the cameras roll. Behind him, a crowd

Are staring, bewildered. Her folks are invisible, too traumatised, afraid

Of the news that they will receive. But still they

Hope. Fingers clenched together. That their little girl is safe.

Suzanne Bowditch, 2016

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