tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23309525636546580742024-02-18T18:39:36.374-08:00Monya Mary ClaytonMonya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-1800381764147351182015-11-04T05:02:00.000-08:002015-11-04T05:02:00.994-08:00LIFE HAPPENS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The second of my granddaughters to marry. Laura walking to her wedding to long time partner Troy, on the arm of her father, my - our - second son. In a beautiful setting by the river. A very happy occasion, not least for me because all thirteen grandchildren were present.<br />
Arthur died two months before, and Laura's maternal grandmother a month after him. I am her last remaining grandparent, and honorary grandparent to Troy.<br />
Laura's simple dress - she isn't one for fussy clothes - needed no embellishment. It was made from a length of 200 year old French lace, and since no dry cleaner would touch it, was treated for removal of the aged yellow colour, and ironed, and cleaned afterward, by a fabric expert at the Museum.<br />
I have had difficulty regaining my writing mojo after a harrowing three years of Arthur's illness, but at last, very slowly and using methods against all the rules, have begun on a modest romance which will probably never be published. But I must be able to say I tried.<br />
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Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-56416215164833574582015-05-26T21:25:00.000-07:002015-05-26T21:29:21.976-07:00WHAT'S IN A NAME, I MEAN, TITLE?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFs2chVx6h9TcrgAJ1I_yvLNw8wGmRZcSmbaqK6cZhJeEYXjaWj6GbZWY92nBwnv__x7Sq74sDNNwUznW3tBLgMRBDdjMTXPvzV9mPx_ytLEx6qGTgtFBlqq-vHqp0rJzNZge3JVaQtB94/s1600/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFs2chVx6h9TcrgAJ1I_yvLNw8wGmRZcSmbaqK6cZhJeEYXjaWj6GbZWY92nBwnv__x7Sq74sDNNwUznW3tBLgMRBDdjMTXPvzV9mPx_ytLEx6qGTgtFBlqq-vHqp0rJzNZge3JVaQtB94/s1600/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg" /></a></div>
Here's my book, out of print for a while now and the electronic version available only on illegal pirate sites. But I note the <i>other</i><br />
The Pirate And The Puritan, by Cheryl Howe, originally published about 2002, has gone into a second edition.<br />
Of course, I should have checked the title on Google before I sent the story to the publisher (The Wild Rose Press). Never thought of it. And now I wonder... Is the OTHER Pirate & Puritan gaining a larger reputation from word-of-mouth/internet/email recommendations meant for my Pirate And Puritan? I haven't read Ms Howe's book so I cannot judge, it's just that nasty little thought worms its way into mind. In the circumstance that it's her book which pops up if one googles The Pirate And The Puritan!<br />
Doesn't matter now, of course, unless someone wants to buy the pdf from me, and I'm sure Amazon wouldn't like that. But they have it listed for near impossible prices, probably just because it is unavailable and no one's going to order it anyway!<br />
Ah, such a merry-go-round world.<br />
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By the way, if you read last post and noticed I didn't continue it after all, that's because I've been too busy driving hubby to medical appointments and hospitals etc., to have any energy left over for my blog. He's not too bad at present, due for some more treatments but holding his own like the tough old bird he is.<br />
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<br />Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-7411588713140403742014-10-20T05:08:00.002-07:002014-10-20T05:08:42.901-07:00WHY Keep A Diary?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdz55sJxNnuzSBXUUeUht0pbzW3Ng3VlYmSkAq1ZebJZNT6eGrt6Fd6MvZBvP8CArcCNu1hPAZU_Sbz1lP5BZuV_HD2qBbW7kb3pJALQDbuO-1oYeenCCuxAlQSaPKA_XNSLKwXlNL7cX/s1600/Arthur+by+Nelma.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdz55sJxNnuzSBXUUeUht0pbzW3Ng3VlYmSkAq1ZebJZNT6eGrt6Fd6MvZBvP8CArcCNu1hPAZU_Sbz1lP5BZuV_HD2qBbW7kb3pJALQDbuO-1oYeenCCuxAlQSaPKA_XNSLKwXlNL7cX/s1600/Arthur+by+Nelma.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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My old friend Nan often says I should write the story of my life. I don't know why, it's been an ordinary life. Yet if I'd begun a diary in May 2013 I would have an incredible story - if at the same time a story similar to many others - to tell.</div>
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That's my husband of 54 years, Arthur. Photo taken about 5 years ago by my friend Nelma Ward. The bones of his face are now starkly outlined, the flesh largely sunken. He has been ill, yes, but at the same time his will power and courage have carried him through where others, myself for instance, would have given up. In May of 2013 the knee joint of his right leg was replaced, as the left one was in 2001. Common surgery these days. In the hospital he showed me a tiny red pimple on his upper lip...</div>
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The pimple grew to be a large one. A skin specialist took a biopsy. Cancer. The pimple exploded to something resembling the open mouth of a volcano. Hospital, a plastic surgeon, two operations, and a particularly aggressive growth was removed from his lip, from under his nose, and from his cheek muscle. The skilled surgeon, bless him, transferred flesh from his lower lip to the top. For two weeks it had to remain sewn up, and he had one corner of his mouth through which to take sustenance. Through a straw.</div>
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<i>to be continued...</i></div>
Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-13912171442129230442013-10-11T00:16:00.001-07:002013-10-11T00:16:11.435-07:00A GREAT REVIEW SITE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-74427598825313855482013-09-18T18:23:00.000-07:002013-10-29T05:22:59.552-07:00MY NEW ROMANCE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hooray, my new romance is released tomorrow (at least it'll be tomorrow in Australia) the 20th September, from Muse It Up Publishing.<br />
Set in Quensland, Australia, at a coastal resort, no less, which hopefully means it will be a pleasant escape for northern hemisphere readers who are saying goodbye to their summer. <br />
The title is a description of the hero and heroine, Jason and Lisa. Two people couldn't be more different. He's a ruthless businessman, she's a gentle, plain working girl who happens to be president of the local environment committee. So naturally she wonders why he constantly seeks her company. Is he trying to get her on side for his latest real estate development?<br />
Jason is a man with secrets, Lisa is a girl who knows she isn't attractive. Their lives and characters would seem to be incompatible. See how they find their happy ending! Buy links below:<br />
<a href="https:///">https://</a><a href="http://museituppublishing.com/">museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/coming-soon/an-unlikely-pair-detail</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/An-Unlikely-Pair-ebook/dp/B00FARJ12Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1382878085&sr=1-1&keywords=an+unlikely+pair+by+monya+clayton">www.amazon.com/An-Unlikely-Pair-ebook/dp/B00FARJ12Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1382878085&sr=1-1&keywords=an+unlikely+pair+by+monya+clayton</a><br />
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Labels:<a href="http://www.amazon.com/"> contemporary romance, women's fiction, Australian romance, romance, Australia,</a> Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-86769341147700798012013-06-21T04:29:00.000-07:002013-06-21T04:31:39.675-07:00IN MY AUTUMN GARDEN - AND MY OWN PERSONAL AUTUMN!Wow! I found the lost Post, in Drafts! <br />
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You may notice that I have done precisely what I told everyone else not to do at the end of my last post. "Don't procrastinate", said I. And lo, I procrastinated. Mitigating circumstances there may be, but your true blogger is always ready with a new entry. Not I. A blog can't be, for obvious reasons, a genuine diary. So the catchcry goes round - "What on earth will I blog about next?"
Since age is one of my excuses, I'll note that I am taking steps to prevent the onset of senility. To learn something new, we are told, creates new synapses in the brain. So, for my "learning" process, I've decided to memorise a poem now and again. I like doing it, if I like the poem. There are a lot of hidden gems out there too. To date I've memorised exactly two. First was the famous folk ballad, "My Grandfather's Clock". Love it, and it was sheer serendipity to find the words in a second-hand antique magazine.
The second is one of those hidden gems I mentioned. "The Horses" by Edwin Muir. It tells a story, and I l-o-v-e stories. How survivors of a nuclear Armageddon discover a herd of horses. Or rather how the horses find them. But now, I have to find another poem to commit to memory, but this time I think I'll cheat and go back to a couple of favourites from past years and re-memorise them. After all, there's no point in the exercise if one doesn't like the lines. And I'm gracious enough not to hurry, being old enough to have learned to give myself time!
Pity I can't remember the names of occasional people, and have these blank spots where something entirely escapes me. It's no good, of course, to concentrate and try to chase it down. It will pop up at some time when I'm NOT thinking of it. A scientist on a T.V. program once said, and I do remember this, that when we work out how this happens we'll have advanced a long way toward understanding the workings of the human brain.
In the meantime, irritatingly, I still remember phone numbers, books I read years ago, and the precise dates of many events in my life. Equally irritatingly, I have forgotten what it was my husband asked me to remind him about tomorrow. He has this wonderful habit of relying on MY memory, and my short-term memory is no longer to be relied upon. And he always asks me to remind him about things when there's neither pen nor paper within sight or reach. Yes indeed, I am at the point where I must WRITE THINGS DOWN. Now, if I can just train hubby to write notes to himself too, we may yet cope with this particular disfunction of old age.
In the meantime, happy remembering everybody!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hf6NBwUXE7S4HhM_9o7ogzwb5j9OcnSspaM_ulSmgC95WPmCT0LytiCYk7iQiXwjoY2471UfeetR-2BYTyqaLqCdH-kp93QdemmrkLviewXnivUKxlv6Srn8aiM5OCulH6WsSEjpqZqr/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hf6NBwUXE7S4HhM_9o7ogzwb5j9OcnSspaM_ulSmgC95WPmCT0LytiCYk7iQiXwjoY2471UfeetR-2BYTyqaLqCdH-kp93QdemmrkLviewXnivUKxlv6Srn8aiM5OCulH6WsSEjpqZqr/s320/DSC_0083.JPG" /></a>
Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-6990556053785606432013-06-21T03:01:00.002-07:002013-06-21T04:19:49.956-07:00TALENT - IS IT SUCH A WILD CARD?Yes, I do recall that in my last post I said, "Don't procrastinate!" And I have done just that. I actually did write a blog a couple of months ago, but, being technically unskilled, lost the whole thing! <br /><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">These unusual paintings are the work of my late mother, Reene Conroy. The style is called Naive, or Primitive. Think Grandma Moses! The point is, she didn't know she was an artist until she was sixty-two, and began taking art classes. The instructor wisely pointed out that her style was not ordinary, and told her to simply go home and paint what she wanted. She felt her way at first, and then began to hit her stride. The result? The decade when she was age in her sixties and early seventies</span> proved the happiest and most productive of her life.<br />
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She had never considered herself more than an ordinary housewife, and in the 1940s and 50s women were expected to have no interests outside their homes, husbands and children. (My father, by the way, was an excellent carpenter, and a skilled fisherman!) Talent, therefore, can crop up in anyone. We are born with it, but often do not know it, or discover it, until time and circumstances bring it out in us.<br />
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I, for instance, had known I wanted to be a writer since the age of six, but time and circumstance, and again the expectation loaded into women's lives, were still very much in evidence when I married. (And my own husband is the most talented man with his hands I have ever met. He built our house, he makes clocks, he can build boats, etcetera!) It was unthinkable to put oneself first; the house, husband and family must be one's first concerns. So, I did not have a book published until I was sixty-one. Oh, a few short stories and magazine articles, but how I wish I had knuckled down to work on my own talent earlier in my life. All those stories still buzzing in my head may be finished and in print! Alas, talent on its own gets nowhere. The extra requirement, across the whole panorama of all artistry, from ballet through poetry to song, is persistence and hard work. And a little luck helps!<br />
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But there is talent abounding that receives no publicity, no worldly success. I live in a small town, population 1200, and it is home to both a writers group, a photographers group, and artists. And musicians and singers, flower arrangers, the whole range. Yet the work of most of them has not received the recognition it deserves. That is the way of the world. In this day and age, compared to say a hundred years ago, or even fifty, there are thousands of people who attempt to make themselves, and the products of their activities, known. Too many talented people, so most of us must be pleased with mild, or local, success.<br />
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The world of book publishing is a brilliant example. It is a constant struggle for writers to be accepted, and to stand out from the crowd of their peers. (Without resorting to grab attention by means of sensational and often salacious subject matter!) But publishing has become more and more a commercial enterprise. Of course it always has been, but now the consideration of a book (by print publishers, less by electronic-based companies) is only, it appears: <i>Will it sell 50,000 copies?</i><br />
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I recall reading that Jane Austen's original manuscripts were not good, that her publisher had to encourage her to revise and improve her work until it could decently appear in print. I have heard the same of the Australian autobiography "A Fortunate Life", by A.B. Facey, initally unacceptable by today's standards but nurtured by its editors into a classic. Hans Christian Anderson, the great Danish teller of fairytales, in his youth wanted to write only great tragedies. Someone read them and, I quote, "saw gleams of gold among the rubbish." And now who doesn't know his name?<br />
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I think of the difficulties modern writers must face. Not only in writing their novels, but also marketing and publicising them. And I remember what I have learned about our long ago nomad and tribal ancestors. Their lives were much simpler. Those who could sing, sang. Those who could dance, danced. Those who could draw pictures, drew pictures. And those who could tell stories, told their stories.<br />
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Their existence was not a settled one, like ours. We have fixed homes to take care of, jobs to serve to earn the money to put food on the table, pay for our shelter and clothing and a thousand other things. The nomads had no such difficulties in their way. They could possibly leave their paintings on cave walls - what modern artist would not like to be responsible for Lascaux? They could compose music on simple pierced reeds and drums of hide and wood. They could tell tales which, for all we know, are the basis of all the legends of the world. Their names are unknown. It does not matter. Their works remain, if not in physical form, in the memories and traditions of the human race.<br />
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How many people since the beginnings of civilisation have possessed talent, yet not had the chance or education or will to use it? I remember a girl who attended high school at the same time I did, and sang like an angel. I heard many years later she had lost her voice. If not used, a gift is lost. Not everyone can be an artist of some kind, but all of us have areas of skill, no matter how humble. If we create a garden, if we scribble a letter to a friend, if we cook well for a family, if our house is comfortable or we dress ourselves attractively on a slim budget - oh, in many other ways, we have created. And creativity is never lost. No matter if no one sees it, or it is not recognised or appreciated, it has been added to all the productivity of talent on Earth. It is invisible, but it is immortal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aEqMyhTvZy9l8gLAYcwVgIVbkfCxuo7JgHFlTVQZOAAKp488EJGU-44_WywVR8oPI01Rn2bsxfeV5ViThN0o8TBHHul4a7Z4bFRnWlBQZ8wxlY5KK4JaI9wORMqJuE4_wjuydXOXOkpT/s1600/scan0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-aEqMyhTvZy9l8gLAYcwVgIVbkfCxuo7JgHFlTVQZOAAKp488EJGU-44_WywVR8oPI01Rn2bsxfeV5ViThN0o8TBHHul4a7Z4bFRnWlBQZ8wxlY5KK4JaI9wORMqJuE4_wjuydXOXOkpT/s320/scan0021.jpg" /></a></div>
Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-75976415037842175632012-12-10T04:16:00.002-08:002012-12-12T22:55:54.126-08:00HOW TO MISS A CHANCE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYketHxZdkJzJCSsol5s6Qei1x7LxEG32a0DOE4bG915bAJYn2vWcNcLzckEMY05Eph1rm6tHpZtsiKK4IooikpldZoAm2y0lp_jGXbzR8i66eZWax9AKHAktaUQtNe1upLy8WBnEJkcBT/s1600/Morning+Glory+by+Nelma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYketHxZdkJzJCSsol5s6Qei1x7LxEG32a0DOE4bG915bAJYn2vWcNcLzckEMY05Eph1rm6tHpZtsiKK4IooikpldZoAm2y0lp_jGXbzR8i66eZWax9AKHAktaUQtNe1upLy8WBnEJkcBT/s320/Morning+Glory+by+Nelma.jpg" /></a></div>(c)Nelma Ward
This beautiful photograph, by my friend Nelma who is a member of our local Photographers Group, is a reminder to never put off doing things you're vaguely thinking of doing. You know - someday, or when I remember to take my camera, or the next time I'm there.
The Morning Glory has sadly been considered a weed for some time, yet a more lovely flower hardly exists. This one twined about the tiny shed behind the post office. I always intended to take a picture of it. After all, I was at the post office at least once a week. Yet I always forgot to take my camera. And then the post office was given a coat of new paint. Including on the outbuildings. The next time I went there, the painter had torn down the morning glory to spruce up the little shed with his brush. If Nelma hadn't possessed the artistic forethought to snap this lovely image, I'd have nothing but a memory of the morning glory. Stop and smell the flowers, they say. But we're all too hurried, too busy - in my case too slow - for anything but the necessities of everyday life.
I once had a chance to buy a work of art, of a type which we'll never see now outside of private collections and museums. Once upon a time wrist and pocket watches were not digital, they had moving parts. And a few talented folk bought up old watches, cheap, pulled them apart and patiently rebuilt them into framed pictures of - cars. The one I saw had been reduced to $35. (This was, I admit, twenty years ago.) I had the money ready in my purse. I didn't have the time, but fully intended to get down there, several suburbs away, as soon as possible. I didn't make it. When I did, the shop was closed, the stock gone. No clockwork sculptured car for me.
And some time ago I saw the perfect Christmas gift for my son-in-law, a perpetual calendar of great sporting moments. It was in the gift section at the chemist's. Well, I'm at the chemist's about twice a week, I can pick it up any time. I finally remembered it a couple of weeks ago. It was gone. Obviously some savvy customer also decided it would make a perfect gift. Why on earth had I believed it would wait for me, that I was the only person interested? My ego must be way bigger than I thought, or my procrastination habit worse.
Lesson for moi<i></i>, buy things when you first see them, photograph them as soon as possible, and don't, don't procrastinate!
Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-34564336982190084502011-10-14T04:14:00.000-07:002011-12-05T04:54:56.274-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJ55ZxHmUxt9vFYREPWSKYq95CfLjj257Akqo9KkxBlCFpzAn8BsUGEkvYFtJJuO6DSqI0LSgq1jPOUAbRdr0aXxhHKsgSN9ggNRPcUVVtbj-p06WaRow42AjDUvETYdLRNUOvMC_Tciw/s1600/BlueprintForLove_w951_300.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJ55ZxHmUxt9vFYREPWSKYq95CfLjj257Akqo9KkxBlCFpzAn8BsUGEkvYFtJJuO6DSqI0LSgq1jPOUAbRdr0aXxhHKsgSN9ggNRPcUVVtbj-p06WaRow42AjDUvETYdLRNUOvMC_Tciw/s320/BlueprintForLove_w951_300.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663306902172489314" /></a> http://www.amazon.com/Blueprint-Love-Monya-Clayton/dp/160154345X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5MIwchROkyji0J1RrssZrbA-VMgJMsg4c39F6tv1xYkYyHjRz7Rqv0xlMwf365CdOrkIXuNuekvXxCYBKmCUULacDbd-hnfTaP-CqfMjYJpe5H2b6upFiCSCRUFbTk91m69Lh1gpkxHX/s1600/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 194px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO5MIwchROkyji0J1RrssZrbA-VMgJMsg4c39F6tv1xYkYyHjRz7Rqv0xlMwf365CdOrkIXuNuekvXxCYBKmCUULacDbd-hnfTaP-CqfMjYJpe5H2b6upFiCSCRUFbTk91m69Lh1gpkxHX/s320/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5663306183734056690" /></a> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pirate-Puritan-Mary-Clayton-dp/1601541198/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF88qid=1321964958&sr=1-1"></a>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-87346243150178419302011-10-01T05:52:00.000-07:002011-10-02T05:01:52.130-07:00MY GRANDDAUGHTER'S WEDDING DAY - AND THEIR KIDS LOOKED LOVELY TOO!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNamTf_QopAI_uxkSjs6qiLxsB70RCe8chSktze56tBMYK44Lj2sjpqe1oqjtfK0t86ZbuPSK-EY8sfw-FymGKPPd-BRb6sZxvz5-qU6rioSQZ9KEGasHczYDXPZeAbwyl0mdjnOmRwZjD/s1600/Carla+%2526+Simon+wedding.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 249px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNamTf_QopAI_uxkSjs6qiLxsB70RCe8chSktze56tBMYK44Lj2sjpqe1oqjtfK0t86ZbuPSK-EY8sfw-FymGKPPd-BRb6sZxvz5-qU6rioSQZ9KEGasHczYDXPZeAbwyl0mdjnOmRwZjD/s320/Carla+%2526+Simon+wedding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658506274203062450" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style:italic;"></span> <span style="font-style:italic;"></span> <span style="font-style:italic;"></span> Photo by Ray Woodrow.<br /><br /> There she is, our eldest granddaughter, three weeks ago, she and new hubby. On a freezing windy day in spring, and the bride and her bridesmaids wearing strapless dresses! Goose pimples weren't in it.<br /><br />Their three children were members of the wedding party. Their nine-year old daughter wore a long red gown, and held the hand of her three-year old sister whose ditto red gown was topped by a sweet little white coat. Five year old son was with the menfolks, Dad the groom and his groomsmen. He wore the same outfit they did, and he was the ring-cushion bearer. They all behaved beautifully. Nine year old has been a self-contained soul since she was tiny. Five year old has survived a major episode of being the two-year old terror. Three year old has always been cute and known it. You know how it is, mischief behind a cherubic exterior. And all three are a credit to their parents. (And their grandparents, and great grandparents, of whom I am one of the latter...)<br /><br />Bride and groom, therefore, have lived through enough to know they are committed. They have survived the stillborn who lived a few minutes, and two more miscarriages. They've survived working different shifts. They've survived buying their own home. Their relationship has not only survived but prospered. Life may offer no guarantees, but I believe they'll survive marriage.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-15468225087880646712011-01-09T04:53:00.000-08:002011-08-31T04:06:19.359-07:00I ALSO HAVE AN OLDER BLOG...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiAeCWDoay2kybLBNZu206PbT_QQDTkeClM-kWZSEN6ce4ZfdWH_0Sy-GZO4Z9lR7XUUJEhUP6wYAmGnfal8w80vx9TTZOrcRC1qFGyWyVlAv-dpvpqZ4AzSVjvNmf5eenjyeTSYRXYLq/s1600/DCP_0956.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiAeCWDoay2kybLBNZu206PbT_QQDTkeClM-kWZSEN6ce4ZfdWH_0Sy-GZO4Z9lR7XUUJEhUP6wYAmGnfal8w80vx9TTZOrcRC1qFGyWyVlAv-dpvpqZ4AzSVjvNmf5eenjyeTSYRXYLq/s320/DCP_0956.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560169519620256706" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">This is one of the clocks my husband makes. Mostly for friends and rellies. I'm not the only creative person in the family! Nothing to do with the subject of the post, of course.
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<br />So, if you're further interested in my journey to writerdom, there's another at
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<br /><a href="http://monyamary.blogspot.com/">http://monyamary.blogspot.com/</a>
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<br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-22171919014083621082010-11-10T03:02:00.000-08:002010-11-10T04:17:14.428-08:00WANT TO SEE MY WORK SPACE?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb0mPvftBTz5MHsz7YpUB3T9O0U70ESTtcu18f-S_uw_o0l6bbhQMaRPWgB5x7LvkL-cqtThmW5pg4NdLpDb10-YArFYHMEB8Dm2XUigLI_wBiTToRt1kz7oYAnMY71Mkh1SWhXkqtWvC/s1600/DCP_0964.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb0mPvftBTz5MHsz7YpUB3T9O0U70ESTtcu18f-S_uw_o0l6bbhQMaRPWgB5x7LvkL-cqtThmW5pg4NdLpDb10-YArFYHMEB8Dm2XUigLI_wBiTToRt1kz7oYAnMY71Mkh1SWhXkqtWvC/s320/DCP_0964.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537886470357689202" border="0" /></a>You'll also see this photo of my untidy desk on<br /><a href="http://heroineswithhearts.blogspot.com/">http://heroineswithhearts.blogspot.com/</a> on Friday the 12 th November. Sorry, Paula, didn't intend to steal a march on you, but I can't work out how to delete the thing now!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8h8B4ZtkmatPTtmc_M65GEpaQe-kNC2LgSIU-EsdULjeJr2G7QagNL9Wa5GVX9qgoVqnq-rIyIPMJ7ve1LubK7GCUhuvf3bI3BdkD1-foDOvETQWfOc43Y2qsOw3FSEAk822Z588Sa7n_/s1600/DCP_0967.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8h8B4ZtkmatPTtmc_M65GEpaQe-kNC2LgSIU-EsdULjeJr2G7QagNL9Wa5GVX9qgoVqnq-rIyIPMJ7ve1LubK7GCUhuvf3bI3BdkD1-foDOvETQWfOc43Y2qsOw3FSEAk822Z588Sa7n_/s320/DCP_0967.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537881814576959634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSvcEu9tO_Thk7OicSLTzbBuUxf0vBSGZJyVuJM9_CAFs3CaOLL3-vaY_R5aZurTgX7_-JJ05Jbti7tWCqdGwshF5Qb2tznsUF5kKOdGida_CXDNY4wNZ1GiFeYMu1iyJShG19AKcbeBY/s1600/DCP_0966.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSvcEu9tO_Thk7OicSLTzbBuUxf0vBSGZJyVuJM9_CAFs3CaOLL3-vaY_R5aZurTgX7_-JJ05Jbti7tWCqdGwshF5Qb2tznsUF5kKOdGida_CXDNY4wNZ1GiFeYMu1iyJShG19AKcbeBY/s320/DCP_0966.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537880271333205922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJTCDzIR5eAKSW-Mp_rLLhpVEuQGRvfJ3sr8n-rU6Dla6zbmebUtwkvUDpB8GALoOYxNh25a4fISJEwCPTtaAxWE8oqkBzI8ibCMPtG6E_0cw5IzbCCdMfOt23GPDn0qYJpHoe0YMrPW5/s1600/DCP_0965.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIJTCDzIR5eAKSW-Mp_rLLhpVEuQGRvfJ3sr8n-rU6Dla6zbmebUtwkvUDpB8GALoOYxNh25a4fISJEwCPTtaAxWE8oqkBzI8ibCMPtG6E_0cw5IzbCCdMfOt23GPDn0qYJpHoe0YMrPW5/s320/DCP_0965.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537875950578163634" border="0" /></a>Scary, isn't it? Messy, yes indeed. I've slowed down, but I'm still collecting books. (Don't take any notice of the year date on the photos, my old digital camera absolutely insists it's 2001, not 2010. And I haven't won the argument with it yet.)<br /><br />But the great thing is, I have a room to put them in! When we built this house we'd been married more than forty years, the kids were gone and had kids of their own, and in the modest three-bedroom home plan this was supposed to be the second bedroom. Well, hubby has a shed! And in it, among other other things, he makes clocks, like the one on top of the free-standing bookcase on the left. At least it has glass doors, and looks even messier because I've also stored framed photos in it, of our four kids (three boys, one girl). One each of them as babies one year old, and one each of their weddings. And they're in there so they don't get dusty!<br /><br /><br />I've actually blogged about my work area at <a href="http://classicromancerevival.blogspot.com/">http://classicromancerevival.blogspot.com/</a><br />On Sunday September 12th, and titled it MY WRITING SPACE - QUICK, FIND THE DUSTER!<br />But I'd stuck these photos in the wrong file and couldn't, being aged and techno-challenged, work out how to post them there. So aren't these a treat? Because those aren't my only bookcases. You'd think just the built-in one my husband covered one wall with would be enough!<br /><br />The other free-standing bookcase, on the right, I bought from a second-hand shop years and years ago. It's full too, and you'll notice an overflow on the top! Above it is an old European print picture I bought from a flea market, very old-world library looking. The original oil of the roses, down beside it standing on the remains of my former (read, spare) computer, I bought from an opportunity (charity) shop only this year. It's obviously not a professional effort but it's very pretty and was obviously painted with love. I just had no more wall left to hang it on!<br /><br />And no, those aren't all my books. There's an old toolbox dolled up with cushions in the spare (third!) bedroom full of more. There's a five shelf cupboard down in the shed groaning at the seams with paperbacks. And in the lounge room there's a two-shelf set of Encyclopaedia Brittanica... Um, and in the corner beside my husband's chair we have HIS books - on a set of shelves made of bricks and planks painted white... All about interesting things like cars, sports, science, humour, woodworking and so on. Poor man.<br /><br />By now you'll be thinking, this woman is a compulsive collector and reader! You'll be right about the collector part, but I actually get to read much less than I used to. Being slow on my feet means I'm slow getting from one end of the day to the other, and whatever time is left is spent on the computer. Writing, and checking my emails, and writer stuff on the Internet. And oh, all right, playing Solitaire sometimes. Just sometimes...Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-33023328157886578272010-06-28T23:38:00.000-07:002010-08-21T04:48:29.285-07:00A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME<span style="font-family:georgia;">A rose can be a sweet pea if it wants, right? Nope, it'll still be a rose. But it can call itself Sweet Pea if it wants to.<br />The reason for this </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVdcoFS2tLndzdrWVZXLUkXrvnRZ5c3_2fVSTY6vVUeLsRQ-iSnDvheXvyQWlx8aw1HnOyJATLZm2ikd6oBJsIoiwFuIeWZsT2hOskQkT8cwQXn8uNYY0dclK7vJx_QHm53xX1OMp_FJ9/s1600/DCP_0875.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVdcoFS2tLndzdrWVZXLUkXrvnRZ5c3_2fVSTY6vVUeLsRQ-iSnDvheXvyQWlx8aw1HnOyJATLZm2ikd6oBJsIoiwFuIeWZsT2hOskQkT8cwQXn8uNYY0dclK7vJx_QHm53xX1OMp_FJ9/s320/DCP_0875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488082345114154738" border="0" /></a>peculiar statement is not peculiar, simply unusual. In modern society anyway.<br /><br />The Events section of our Sunday newspaper devotes two pages to photos of recent weddings. I always take a look at them. It's interesting to see the wedding gowns etc., but really I try to pick whether the marriage will last. After all, about 46% these days end in divorce. It's quite impossible to work out who will and who won't stick together, because they all look happy and attractive on their wedding day, and anyway it's seldom possible to judge someone's character by their looks. However, there's another little game I play. I work out the bride's new name, that is, add her first name to his last. For instance, if "Kate Featherstone" marries "Peter King", she'll become "Kate King". (Names have been changed to protect the innocent young married couple from my opinions.)<br /><br />A few months ago this silly game took a good knock. Headline under the photo said TWIST ON TRADITION. And explained this pair were doing it the opposite way. The bridegroom was taking the bride's surname. I've never seen such an example in all the years I've been gawking at wedding pictures. They're an attractive pair, and good-natured - if one judges by looks again. And intelligent; they both work in the medical profession So he becomes "Peter Featherstone"... And he doesn't look at all as if he thinks it'll be a problem. Even though it is his bride's father's surname.<br /><br />I was intrigued. Granted there's no legal requirement for a woman to take her husband's name - it is simply a custom. And one which started, like many other things, as a French fashion, in the 1500s. The Scandinavians, bless 'em, always elected to name their girls "someone's daughter", as in "Ericsdottir", in the same way her brothers were called "Ericsson". This local civilized practice meant girls kept their family name and weren't required to be called "Mrs. Bjornson" if she married a son of Bjorn. But, of course, "Ericsdottir" still implied her father's name was the more important.<br /><br />Some women nowadays elect to keep their family surname when they marry. And of course the family surname is their Dad's, and his dad's, and so on back to whenever legal marriage became the "in" thing. They can, of course, choose to be called by their mothers' maiden names. But hold it right there. If Kate Featherstone's mother was originally Judy Blenkinsop, then Kate would be calling herself by Judy's father's name, her maternal grandfather Bill Blenkinsop. (And actually I don't think Peter would prefer Blenkinsop over Featherstone.) And Bill's male forebears were called Blenkinsop, all the way back to the caves, the tribes, and the giver of names, probably a witchdoctor, who landed him with the name Blenkinsop...<br /><br />But there's a way out. Kate could call herself Featherstone-Blenkinsop, hyphenated. This solution, unfortunately, for the reason of sheer length, seldom survives past the two generations, unless the surnames are short. "King-Ash-Bell" anyone? If everyone did it, imagine the length of the electoral roll, the crowding of addresses on envelopes, and the suffering inflicted upon those among us afflicted with a stutter. Nope, won't work.<br /><br />But wait, there's more. In the first paragraph when I mentioned weddings I also mentioned divorce rates. (Like it or not, one often comes after the other, like the tin cans after the wedding limousine.) Now the men who are divorced are in the fortunate position of retaining their surnames. As for the ladies, most of them would be pleased as punch to get rid of his name and return to their own (well, their father's, who warned her the fiance was no good anyway). But there's usually children to consider, and the poor kids have already gone through enough without having their mother change her name to one different from theirs. So most divorcees reluctantly keep the ex-hubby's surname. Bummer, but at least the offspring aren't confused.<br /><br />Ladies, it looks like we're stuck our husband's surnames. After all, unless we're sensitive about feminism, it doesn't do any harm. Except for the times we start looking for old girlfriends from school whom we only knew by their maiden names... Anyone have other suggestions? I'd love to hear them.<br /><br />Though of course, if all men possessed the sensitivity of "Peter Featherstone", nee "Peter King", and take their wives' names, the situation would be at least reversed. He's a brave man, that. After all, he's continuing his journey through life with the surname of his father-in-law. And his father-in-law's father, and grandfather, all called "Featherstone" way back to the caves or the tribes or the witch-doctor who landed the first of them with the name "Featherstone"...<br /><br />Kate Rose-Sweetpea and Peter Rose-Sweetpea, anyone? Or Kate Sweetpea-Rose and Peter Sweetpea-Rose? One of those cases where the possibilities are endless.Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-6826143644260061462010-03-03T04:44:00.000-08:002010-03-03T05:13:01.892-08:00WHERE TO BUY MY BOOKS IN AUSTRALIA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR7td9ItkflD-ETP_avqGBBVhqwzuz3OTHyyMDT3AETstrAMBJRl7QSfNtDn29vJcXTBcD3506rxlok5xZoWp3F82-VlUtypx2ypPP5IgY9vOxJjksI8DZdOcIv76ou_OTbonfPL1hq23/s1600-h/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGR7td9ItkflD-ETP_avqGBBVhqwzuz3OTHyyMDT3AETstrAMBJRl7QSfNtDn29vJcXTBcD3506rxlok5xZoWp3F82-VlUtypx2ypPP5IgY9vOxJjksI8DZdOcIv76ou_OTbonfPL1hq23/s320/ThePirateAndThePuritan+cover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444388474962531714" border="0" /></a>The Pirate And The Puritan by Mary Clayton<br />Historical Romance, heat level Sweet<br /><br />Buy at: <a href="http://www.romancedirect.com.au">www.romancedirect.com.au</a><br /><br />1704 - Dangerous times, when the British colonies in the America's are threatened by Queen Anne's War. It is not the French but a pirate who captures Mercy Penhall, mute Puritan spinster. Fearing for her life and virtue yet drawn to the captain in spite of herself, Mercy unknowingly sets foot on a path of adventure and heartbreak that will test her courage to the limit. And in the end the secret she carries in her soul threatens to prevent even the small chance of happiness inherent in an impossible love.<br /><br />Edmund Gramercy is an unwilling pirate, forced to join a hostile crew to save his life. He defies them to spare the captives and the women, but the silent Puritan tempts him like no other.<br /><br />Can the impossible become possible for the pirate and the Puritan?<br /><br />Reviews: Jody Allen: excerpt: "A heroine who can't speak and a pirate with a heart..."<br /><br />Laura Miller: excerpt: "She is intrigued by his protection of her... He is drawn to her innocence and strength..."<br /><br />Drebbles, Amazon Top 500 reviewer, excerpt: "...a sweet gentle romance... a rip-roaring adventure..."<br /><br />Kym McNabney "Writing From The Soul", excerpt: "The story kept me on the edge of my seat, eager to find out what happened next."<br /><br />Donna K. "bookcrosser", excerpt: "Instead of sexually tense bickering, these characters interact with kindness and respect."<br /><br />TeensReadToo.com (reviewed by Steph), excerpt: Edmund and Mercy give hope to readers that love can overcome anything."<br /><br />Christy Tillery French "reviewer/writer", excerpt: "An enthralling love story, moving from the high seas to colonial America."<br /><br />Lesley West, Amazon Top 1000 reviewer, excerpt: "Edmund and Mercy are both damaged by life but are strong and sympathetic nonetheless."<br /><br />Marion Marchetto, excerpt: "A story of depth and intelligence... A Puritan heroine instead of an English lass of the privileged class."<br /><br />Beverly Romance Books "Beverly", excerpt: "Without one sexually explicit scene the author has sensuality ooze from the page."<br /><br />Jackie B, excerpt: "Once I was hooked, I didn't want to put it down."Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-24270875640786137312010-03-01T03:48:00.000-08:002010-03-03T04:44:20.261-08:00WHERE TO BUY MY BOOKS IN AUSTRALIA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWpj8H2LQj3z6zL_aDQP9ll1JMRRFrDz4dThfIueXYqBzjodDAbhZA6gk1qJ0_LsNu8WC9D_T4-sl9cM3RCX_Ll5WQ026DusUEkbu0VV3HJx-f7yoHiifS6_gjeMO8deuO-nsLT20Jmz9/s1600-h/cover+BlueprintForLove_120"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWpj8H2LQj3z6zL_aDQP9ll1JMRRFrDz4dThfIueXYqBzjodDAbhZA6gk1qJ0_LsNu8WC9D_T4-sl9cM3RCX_Ll5WQ026DusUEkbu0VV3HJx-f7yoHiifS6_gjeMO8deuO-nsLT20Jmz9/s320/cover+BlueprintForLove_120" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443632252513530050" border="0" /></a>Blueprint For Love, Sexy Contemporary, set on Queensland's Sunshine Coast.<br /><br />Buy link: <a href="http://www.romancedirect.com.au/"> www.romancedirect.com.au</a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Property developer Paul McIvor wants to uproot the Palm Garden, a Coast landmark, to build a luxury hotel on the site. Cathy Brown, president of the local environment committee, wants the garden to remain standing. They are on opposite sides of the argument, and their personalities clash. Yet they are passionately attracted to each other.<br /><br />Cathy, too accustomed to men who want her for her stunning looks, believes the attraction is only physical. Paul, embittered by a divorce, believes it is merely physical. But it just won't go away!<br /><br />The fight for the Palm Garden throws them together and rips them apart. It seems impossible for them to enjoy a lasting relationship. Yet maybe the plans for the hotel will somehow serve as perfect blueprint for love.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-17585645450424404672010-02-23T04:54:00.000-08:002010-02-23T06:04:30.979-08:00I'M SO PROUD OF ELDEST GRANDDAUGHTER!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6RVi8fmN1hb4UZPO88rf4HXK4mgunsOfLe4PtCWhqpJwRbZSRx2-5FNRpTosWeYwHtgsuzRlJMXLwWX1l72kYGqp3YIrsO7xKdQUCGs5vmzwI-tP0r0Gz0CrQ8fgzEenvFmfB71PM1oE/s1600-h/Carla's+fascinator"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6RVi8fmN1hb4UZPO88rf4HXK4mgunsOfLe4PtCWhqpJwRbZSRx2-5FNRpTosWeYwHtgsuzRlJMXLwWX1l72kYGqp3YIrsO7xKdQUCGs5vmzwI-tP0r0Gz0CrQ8fgzEenvFmfB71PM1oE/s320/Carla's+fascinator" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441423239914984002" border="0" /></a>We're proud of all our grandchildren, they have interests they're pursuing with vigour. Just for now, though, we'll tell you about Carla.<br /><br />She has a job as a personal trainer, she and partner Simon have 3 young children (yes, I'm a great-grandma!), and she works her little butt off on artistic and creative projects. She made the fascinator pictured herself. Not an artist in the traditional sense, but do have a look at her website. You'll be glad you did!<br /><br />We think her talent was at least partly inherited from my own mother, Naive artist Reene Conroy, Carla's great-grandmother. My mum discovered she was an artist at age 62, and I had my first book published at age 61. Carla hasn't waited as long as that to express her own gifts!<br /><a href="http://claytoncreationsau.weebly.com/"><br /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><a href="http://claytoncreationsau.weebly.com/">http://claytoncreationsau.weebly.com/</a><br /><br /><br /></span></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-26060306642856228962009-12-14T22:23:00.000-08:002010-01-21T04:27:10.101-08:00MAKING MONEY OUT OF WRITING IS A BIT LIKE MILKING A CROCODILE...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWGACV_oqv-oRsuo4vjIPF_hlYOb82doyr3kq80jxniXt-0VqoBDq5wou6_4_MUusdAoAvAveU1VrMkJBRtWSfZOyk8zvYsCywTPDZ8Ct44SeEY25QTSUHtm2ipHsnahY3xiBxom1Ndjc/s1600-h/Croc+Milker-Carla.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWGACV_oqv-oRsuo4vjIPF_hlYOb82doyr3kq80jxniXt-0VqoBDq5wou6_4_MUusdAoAvAveU1VrMkJBRtWSfZOyk8zvYsCywTPDZ8Ct44SeEY25QTSUHtm2ipHsnahY3xiBxom1Ndjc/s320/Croc+Milker-Carla.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415347488668415394" border="0" /></a><br />Perhaps you detect a note of sarcasm. It is only for the publishing business in general. And the fact I'm not making reams of money is my own fault. I'm too decrepit (read, old and arthritic) to keep up with all the marketing and promoting authors are supposed to do these days. Therefore: I do not make a lot in royalties!<br /><br />This outburst is brought on by the fact my seven-year old great-granddaughter Gabby has just sold a drawing for $100 (AUS.)<br /><br />I am not jealous. I'm thrilled for her. This kid obviously has potential. And talent. And she's a sweetie and I love her very much.<br /><br />Her mother, our eldest granddaughter Carla, who did this bit of fun art a few years ago, is also talented. It's inherited through my mother, her great-grandmother, who discovered at age 62 she was a naive artist. But I digress. Eldest granddaughter has 3 children, a partner, a home, a job and works at a wide range of creative activities as well. And she currently sells her paintings for about $20. So she has connections with the art world. And so Gabby's sale came about. A fellow creative type wanted a drawing by a child. Carla asked Gabby to do one. And Gabby was paid, and with her money she bought a $20 Tinker-bell costume and put the rest in the bank. Lo, she has begun to make her fortune. Drool.<br /><br />I know it sounds catty. It's just that I'm overwhelmed. With all the work writers have to do, we end up, in this day and age, with small change. Hey, somebody, take note! Now, I'm not expecting life to be fair. It isn't. We all have to play with the cards in our hands. But it would be so nice to land an ace the first time they're dealt.<br /><br />Okay, outburst over! I shall go back to work and grumble no more.<br /><br />Monya - author of -<br />The Pirate And The Puritan<br />Blueprint For Love<br />Lily's Captain (short story)<br />all at www.thewildrosepress.com, www.amazon.com and other online booksellers.Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-67046969061610839972009-11-19T03:41:00.000-08:002009-11-21T04:48:57.973-08:00A PIECE OF PURPLE PROSE<span style="font-family:georgia;">Our local Writers Group sets an assignment each month, and the subject for October was simply "Purple". I came up with this.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfRAxrv4dx4iGz3nd9MDvJDuqkDoJC7ZGiBKXWdLE098v5Am3JTm46rpajp09pp8KIeBfqAPAwzIwE3bYR3Bk8yEpikRXBrfCNNCMdHm3Xri6LKFqyBRbpN7nFwP3rH7U9DW_6ccLUkg9/s1600/Me+again+by+N..JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLfRAxrv4dx4iGz3nd9MDvJDuqkDoJC7ZGiBKXWdLE098v5Am3JTm46rpajp09pp8KIeBfqAPAwzIwE3bYR3Bk8yEpikRXBrfCNNCMdHm3Xri6LKFqyBRbpN7nFwP3rH7U9DW_6ccLUkg9/s320/Me+again+by+N..JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405778921983837810" border="0" /></a> No wonder I look shocked. Another fun photo courtesy of my friend, writer and photographer Nelma Ward.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A PIECE OF PURPLE PROSE</span> -<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <br /> IF</span> you're trying to write purple prose, research some of the Victorian era novels. Or early 20th century books like "The Sheikh" by E.M. Hull. You know, the one the Rudolf Valentino silent movie was based on. Then there's the work of Elinor Glyn. Her most famous book is "Three Weeks", the story of an innocent young man seduced on a tiger-skin rug by a European royal lady holidaying incognito. (Fadeout at the vital moment. Darn.) It inspired these immortal lines:<br /> '<span style="font-style: italic;">Would you like to sin on a tiger skin<br /> With Elinor Glyn?<br /> Or would you prefer to err with her<br /> On some other kind of fur?'</span><br /><br />So, you can see that to equal the origintors of purple prose I'm really up against it. Let's see now...<br /><br />THE VICISSITUDES OF VALERIA<br /> <br />The British aristocrat Lady Valeria van de Vere Pug-in-Perambulator was the latest of a family so old and so rich no one sniggered at their surname but pronounced it in the same dignified accent they accorded to Windsor-on-Thames. Valeria wed a Frenchman of good blood, great charm, no title and no money named Etienne de Vulgarrat and bore him a daughter whom they named Virginia van de Vere de Vulgarrat. Etienne, of touchy and quarrelsome temper, died in a duel (unlawful but lethal) a few weeks later, a duel he felt honour-bound to initiate with one Louis le Liare when said Louis was heard to laugh at the French translation of Lady Valeria's appalling maiden appellation.<br /><br /> Valeria was cross with her husband's timing yet secretly relieved it would not now be necessary to repeat the messy and undignified process of childbirth. Also there was the comfort of wearing, from the day of Etienne's death onward, only the colour black, which not only made her reputation as a wife and widow forever in mourning - just like Queen Victoria after her Consort poor Albert of Saxe-Coburg kicked the unsanitary bucket of typhoid fever, though not before he, unlike Valeria's late lamented spouse, managed to father no fewer than nine children on his doting queen - but because Valeria knew perfectly well that black was her best colour.<br /><br /> And all this drama left little Virginia to be brought up, as was right and proper at the time, by nurses and nannies, and never presented to Valeria's dinner guests before that lady was certain the child, though her hair was plaited and she was primped and prettied up in piles of petticoats under plaid pinafores, would always be plain and never become a panted-after prize like her mama. So Virginia grew to prim and petulant puberty, praised, petted and pampered by potty persons of poor rank, and with no playmates but puppies, pussycats and pet pigeons, even though the pups and pussies occasionally pulped the pigeons to puerile perdition.<br /><br /> However, when Virginia's twenty-first birthday eventually arrived, she inherited a fabulous fortune from her famously mean-with-money maiden aunt, Miss Margaret May Menderby of Menderby Manor, and gleefully set up house in the Manor mansion with her pets and said persons of poor rank, and of course a fatuous female companion for respectability. Her mama, meanwhile, recklessly gambled away her own fortune with fast and fickle pursuits like cards and roulette at Monte Carlo, ate well but unwisely of whatever fine foods she fancied and finally ended up fat as a flawn, then in a moment of febrile foolishness fell into the fascinating if failing arms of none other than Louis le Liare, and flung herself without finesse into a final fashionable affair. Which proved too much for Louis's fervour and he faded away from a fatal fever.<br /><br /> The valiant Valeria, however, was disconcerted to discover her Fallopian tubes were still fertile and she had fallen pregnant, and when her figure filled with the foetus and her finances were fiddled away, fled to Virginia at Menderby Manor, where she bore a fat and farting infant whom Virginia magnanimously made out to be her own love child by the fragile fiance who, fed up with his failure to fund a famous fox hunt, had fatally fallen from a flagpole four fortunate months before. Virginia's fecundity thus seemingly fulfilled, the fifteen fortune hunters ferociously fighting for her favour and fortune refuelled their efforts, and Virginia wed with frantic festivities Lord Ferdy Faintleroy, the fairest and flirtiest fig off that fine feudal fifteen.<br /><br /> Virginia filled the final fifty years of her life bossing the flock of Ferdy, her mama, and her fat half-brother Filbert with a fine, firm flow of force, and with fiscal fission maintaining her manor and making many millions. Valeria flatly refused to fail feeding her flesh and fattened to a fantastic and foolish figure of fun.<br /><br /> Well, at least Virginia lived happily ever after.<br /><br />(c) Monya Clayton 20th October 2009<br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-28530031961572650592009-11-06T00:21:00.000-08:002009-11-06T05:18:32.474-08:00A ROMANCE WRITER - WHO, ME?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFR4MXg8JgmV4j7wcpbT_uTWD16kiBhyOUosHzBjxrxmxbd2hHwXTBQlM2MD2bPmEhww70IGiZAw-Ac2yaoOjCCuC5sZAGfHpG_Hu4ZiZ1dRbHGQafu2TXWTYaOpylELy3nzJ2Lg4k8XZ-/s1600-h/Me+by+Nelma.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFR4MXg8JgmV4j7wcpbT_uTWD16kiBhyOUosHzBjxrxmxbd2hHwXTBQlM2MD2bPmEhww70IGiZAw-Ac2yaoOjCCuC5sZAGfHpG_Hu4ZiZ1dRbHGQafu2TXWTYaOpylELy3nzJ2Lg4k8XZ-/s320/Me+by+Nelma.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400903078452127682" border="0" /></a>This is a fun pic of me taken by my friend Nelma, who is in the local Photography Club as well as our Writers Group. I used to be a Romance Snob, now I'm a romance writer!<br /><br />Honestly though, there are some great stories out there in romance land. Hope mine are some of them. Here's an excerpt from the latest review of The Pirate And The Puritan, by Cindy Vallar. The whole thing is available on Cindy's website:<br />http://www.cindyvallar.com/piratepuritan.html<br />and her site: http://cindyvallar.com/pirates.html is devoted to all matters piratical, privateerish and buccaneer-business. It's lots of fun for romance readers, as well as writers! And the review is really nice. It always gives me a charge when fellow writers enjoy my work.<br /><br />"T<span style="font-style: italic;">he Pirate And The Puritan is a captivating love story, replete with adventure and unexpected twists. Clayton's research into piracy and the era shines through, but never intrudes into the story. Rather she deftly spins a tale that transports readers back in time and keeps them guessing how the hero and heroine will finally find the life together they desire."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-84800561060153473602009-08-28T05:48:00.000-07:002009-08-30T00:54:01.377-07:00SPEAKING OF OLD-SCHOOL ROMANCES...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCnw5plhbEWRi1a2YaB_M_aDNLRcUU1k1oX84MFkxYmyembOxWwLT-vG3U732-X_C24siY9Lco6L5Brf5OOr173im7xHoGbdtfoCNsLjEZhv9Mzd_pcy1m_Zy6RoVbN7GRRhETkYZ3Ke5/s1600-h/beach.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCnw5plhbEWRi1a2YaB_M_aDNLRcUU1k1oX84MFkxYmyembOxWwLT-vG3U732-X_C24siY9Lco6L5Brf5OOr173im7xHoGbdtfoCNsLjEZhv9Mzd_pcy1m_Zy6RoVbN7GRRhETkYZ3Ke5/s320/beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374997238255423762" border="0" /></a><br />The photo has only a small connection with the blog. It is an image from the late 1940s when romances were all 'clean'. The young couple at the top of the picture are my dad and mum, and it would have been taken (with assorted relatives and friends) when we were on our annual camping holiday to the beach. And the area is now a 'resort' and heavily built up. Ah, those clean, clear beaches, with nothing behind them but sand dunes...<br /> <br />To return to the subject - I don't recall my mum reading romances, though she did buy the "True Confessions" magazine! I was never tempted to look at one, (as a child, I read adventure stories, particularly Biggles. Hardly ever a female character in those.) But True Confessions was considered pretty lurid in those days. I heard Mum discuss various stories with her friends, and nothing worse seemed to occur than an unexpected baby. No sex scenes, it just appeared. That was a matter to be whispered about. Now every second Harlequin has the words 'secret baby' in the title, on the cover!<br /><br />My mother was the most practical person I ever knew. Perhaps the scandalous stories were her escape from the mundane world of housework and bringing up a family.<br /><br /> I do recall her once commenting on a short story in a women's magazine, when I was a teenager. I'd read it too, and still remember it. The heroine was a writer, and absent minded, which was a bit of a turnoff for her husband. She was a very nice woman, plain, wore glasses, and looked after her house and kids if in a casual sort of way. Bad cook, too. She wrote stories for magazines, and when she wrote she wasn't aware of kids creating bedlam in the house or anything else - totally 'in the zone', as we say. Hubby of course was the No.1 breadwinner and it bothered him she was contributing to the budget. It bothered him she was not like other wives, totally taken up with their families and keeping a sparkling house. Don't mistake, he was a nice man too. It just disturbed him that the accepted order was a bit different in his family. He found her 'in the zone' one evening and yelled it was time for dinner. She snapped out of it and had a meal ready in half-an-hour. As usual, it was awful. He stormed out, went for a long walk and brooded. When he returned home, full of angst, he found her asleep on the sofa. She had changed into a good dress , put on stockings and accessorised with jewellery, which she normally never wore.<br /><br /> He was quite moved, and told her how he felt about everything, and she agreed and - took off her glasses. Now this was what Mum commented on. "Every time she took off her glasses he was done for!" It was like a modern heroine taking off her clothes - the hubby couldn't resist, and forgot all his complaints! We understood, the readers, that they made love, but no mention was written of it. At the end of the story he was reconciled to his "dear, funny wife," and their dear, funny marriage. He never wanted her to take off her glasses for anyone but him...<br /><br />It's strange how clearly I remember the story, and Mum's amusement at it. But unexpected things stick in your mind. Most notable to me now, in the general sense, is the excellent short stories published by magazines in the nineteen fifties. These days we are lucky to see a single one in the top magazines, and that's usually by an established author. I don't read them, so I can't comment on them. But I remember the impressive artwork that went with the short story in the past, instead of the generic small sketches, surrounded by advertisements, we get now. Magazines are glossy records of celebrities, news stories, huge expensive ads, recipes that always require ingredients not normally kept in your kitchen, serious beauty and anti-ageing articles - you know the stuff! I miss the three or four stories that used to be in every issue. It can't really be helped, readers are mostly women with high-powered jobs, society belles, and those who aspire to be in that class. Magazines are no longer friendly. They cater to people who are busy, who don't have time to sit and read short stories and serials, who have T.V. and computers to distract them from the pages. So the pages have to reflect modern life. That's just the way it is.<br /><br />But I'd like to see a tale as memorable and simple as that story of the unconventional wife, unconventional because she wrote and wasn't houseproud, and a husband rendered helpless to resist when she took off her glasses... It's this kind of innocence, and the aspects of life and love apparent then, which are promoted by Classic Romance Revival and addressed by its writers, to those of us who prefer the more wholesome reading. That sounds terribly dull and old-fashioned! It isn't, our heroines and heroes are modern people with modern problems, but without the attached erotica which we personally find unnecessary to add to their stories.<br /><br /> CRR's new website is now open. Do drop by for a peek and a comment. Link is: <a href="http://www.classicromancerevival.com/"> http://www.classicromancerevival.com</a><br /><br />MonyaMonya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-7601656892722239112009-08-28T05:38:00.000-07:002009-08-28T05:47:18.348-07:00AND ANOTHER NEW REVIEW!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRpFjN-Sq2HJwiCZU2mnIFwPYMec9QNUxqkZP0dg1Z9sxbKGtmsc6FAt5pijZznPnPUWYBYXNcssmS0H9vtWRG3zRtD_VpIk4OW4EkbMHmf76ray3j2zqoKBd1UbDhiNpdSiGublaR_Qj/s1600-h/scan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRRpFjN-Sq2HJwiCZU2mnIFwPYMec9QNUxqkZP0dg1Z9sxbKGtmsc6FAt5pijZznPnPUWYBYXNcssmS0H9vtWRG3zRtD_VpIk4OW4EkbMHmf76ray3j2zqoKBd1UbDhiNpdSiGublaR_Qj/s320/scan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374993522587940194" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Laura Miller, of "Romance, Old School", has reviewed The Pirate And The Puritan. Here's a couple of excerpts. The complete review appears on the book page at Amazon.<br /><br />"The Pirate And The Puritan is one of the best clean reads I've had the privilege to peruse this year."<br /><br />"The heroine is Mercy Penhall, a young woman whose voice was lost. The hero is Edmund Gramercy, whose choice was piracy or death."<br /><br />"The novel is very well written, well researched, and a beautiful romantic story. If you like action, adventure, sweet romance, and a history lesson that doesn't feel like homework, then this story is for you."<br /><br />Thank you, Laura! We authors never tire of kind words about our work, and when the words are sincere and honest, they're appreciated even more.<br /><br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-57809301057134359842009-07-12T05:51:00.000-07:002009-07-12T06:15:03.798-07:00Another Review for The Pirate And The Puritan...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3b5jmiA39o9e9oqwO-8aCgrf9z-PRb0SP3bdYCtV9lYykyzDgXJHU0JnkMLv-ZrTiRlRUfR1CNAVox0aJDK4SmYsgI1XEmZhw3mzqsL4tcrvAgsf0_REqU060VreUuzknPzYbiYGlsGT/s1600-h/back+cover+TPATP.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ3b5jmiA39o9e9oqwO-8aCgrf9z-PRb0SP3bdYCtV9lYykyzDgXJHU0JnkMLv-ZrTiRlRUfR1CNAVox0aJDK4SmYsgI1XEmZhw3mzqsL4tcrvAgsf0_REqU060VreUuzknPzYbiYGlsGT/s320/back+cover+TPATP.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357556610197057266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;">Thought I'd be different and post the BACK cover of the book. I'm sure you've all seen the front one often enough. If you haven't, scroll down!<br /><br />This review is number thirteen on Amazon. Hubby and I have thirteen grandchildren so it must be a good number for us!<br /><br />It's from Kym McNabney and her enthusiasm for the story is touching and palpable. She headed her comments "An Amazing Story, written by an Amazing Writer." ***Blush!*** It's such a compliment. Here's a few excerpts.<br /><br />"Not the typical book I would have picked to read...<br /><br />I was in awe of Ms. Clayton's writing and storytelling..."(Blush again, though I'd call myself mainly a storyteller, having been a lover of good yarns since childhood.) "Not only was the story one to be believed, it kept me ... eager to find out what would happen next...<br /><br />I love the way she wove in faith and morals in a subtle yet impacting way..." Gosh, Kym, I was just going wherever Edmund and Mercy led me! But I am moved by her words because Kym, as a Christian reviewer, found nothing to offend her in the novel.<br /><br />The point is, many people have read the book, all have widely differing tastes - many not having read anything technically classed as 'Romance' before - and almost all enjoyed it. (I hope I'm not insulting anyone, but my personal opinion is that those who didn't were possibly expecting a 'bodice ripper'.) Just my perception!<br /><br />My point is, it appeals to many people in differing ways I didn't envisage when I began writing the story of the reluctant pirate Captain Edmund Gramercy and his mute Puritan captive Mercy Penhall. In other words, a wide cross section of readers all found it a satisfactory tale. As Drebbles said "A gentle romance... a rip-roaring adventure." *Blush* again. But thank you all for your honest enjoyment. It is very encouraging to this writer!<br /><br />Monya<br /></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-56598236921858971372009-06-04T06:37:00.000-07:002009-06-06T23:59:31.685-07:00SETTINGS: SIMPLY SCENIC OR SPECIALLY SIGNIFICANT? (No.2 post - Contemporary) For No. 1 Post - Historical - see below at The Pirate And The Puritan<span style="font-family:georgia;"> <br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNzxSzdcohqkSVEbvpygQPH0nBI4SyLnBI4k7mswJ6FzOp4x3fRF2Go3mNvndz7JwdsGXaxipjemEuH54K4Ltp8uWxd1FLrKjov5f2t-bg_hlJbbpdcFShNK4M7E6wFTOo7lZ20BZhI_n/s1600-h/BlueprintForLove_w951_300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNzxSzdcohqkSVEbvpygQPH0nBI4SyLnBI4k7mswJ6FzOp4x3fRF2Go3mNvndz7JwdsGXaxipjemEuH54K4Ltp8uWxd1FLrKjov5f2t-bg_hlJbbpdcFShNK4M7E6wFTOo7lZ20BZhI_n/s320/BlueprintForLove_w951_300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343466604368046322" border="0" /></a>Ah, the days are long past when a writer could simply include a scenery description because it is pleasant or pretty. Now it must relate to the story, or the characters, or preferably to both. In 2009 the reader just doesn't have the time to read anything not relevant to the story.<br /><br />Personally I'm an old-fashioned reader/writer and enjoy such descriptions - if they aren't boring. BUT to be published in the modern era every word we use must carry the book forward. So, what have I done in my contemporary Blueprint For Love?<br /><br />No research, for one. Research which would be vitally necessary in a historical is not necessary, so that's a relief! Although the area described in Blueprint, Northern Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia, is fictional, the only reason is to give myself a certain freedom with street names, beachside suburbs, and the importance of those localities to the plot. For instance, the Palm Garden which features so largely is not a real place - and I did have to research palm specimens! But it is vital and central to the story, as the pivot point over which the heroine and hero clash. And boy, do they clash! He wants to uproot the lot, she wants it left alone.<br /><br />The point is, I am familiar with the Sunshine Coast area of Queensland and can write about it easily, without worrying that the background might be incorrect in any way. I'm in my sixties now and since I was a small child, after WWII, my family took their annual camping holiday in the area. I loved, still love, the beaches, loved the sea and surf, the rivers and hinterland. Though it's much more upmarket nowadays, and the coastline has taken a recent storm battering, it's still basically the same place I knew when I was growing up. I am quite confident writing about it because I know my facts are right. Certainly the telling of the story comes easier when one is familiar with the 'backdrop', so to speak. I can describe where the hero/heroine are at any one time because I've been in a similar place myself.<br /><br />Write what you know, is the advice to authors. For the authors of contemporaries, it's certainly a plus to do just that. Oh, and Blueprint is rated as Sophisticated at Classic Romance Revival, which means consenting love scenes between h and h that fall naturally within the plot line and aren't erotica.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Guests - don't forget I have two blogs posted for the CRR carnival. Please comment also on the next one, "How I write my backgrounds - " re my historical The Pirate And The Puritan. Sorry to confuse the issue! Should have put it all together!</span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-75729186778025169912009-06-04T01:06:00.000-07:002009-06-06T23:55:33.734-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2fVviKVI9ZzKvBNCHGcwkwKFmz24ucMSoaxl6RQba36IcIShQndIRYa-E-P_dEvcWlL5ybkJ3DA3fv1wzC7M-_jzIEwb-lnMS5MUCCZPKR-WX4aZflPeRmUa6sva6iNG9B998iKGi9lB/s1600-h/ThePirateAndThePuritan_wrp197_300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX2fVviKVI9ZzKvBNCHGcwkwKFmz24ucMSoaxl6RQba36IcIShQndIRYa-E-P_dEvcWlL5ybkJ3DA3fv1wzC7M-_jzIEwb-lnMS5MUCCZPKR-WX4aZflPeRmUa6sva6iNG9B998iKGi9lB/s320/ThePirateAndThePuritan_wrp197_300.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343381883040047890" border="0" /></a>How do I write the background - f<span style="font-family:georgia;">or a country I've never visited, for a time over three hundred years before I was born? This book was set in the eastern United States in colonial times, 1704-5, and I'm an Australian. </span>I also have far too much respect for historical and geographical accuracy to write a story without researching it properly. My own country has suffered in fiction novels which weren't correctly researched, and I didn't want to do the same thing to anyone else. The story is all important. Yet as a reader I've left more than one book unfinished because of glaring errors. For instance, the British writer who wrote about Australia's convict days, and it was a good book, without having ever heard of eucalyptus (gum) trees! And another mentioned "snow-melt" in the rivers, which since we have no high mountains, only occurs in the Snowy Mountain region.<br /><br />I realise most mistakes are honest and (whisper) I made one or two of my own, but by and large I believe I managed to convey the setting correctly. The book is set in colonial Carolina, New England and Virginia. One reviewer told me "you made this native New Englander feel right at home". Thank goodness! South Carolina has a similar climate to my home state of Queensland, but Virginia and New England are quite different. They receive snow and storms in winter, for one thing. Here our storms blow up in summer and I've only seen snow once in my entire life. Also the rivers behave differently, the landscape and trees are quite different, even the soil.<br /><br />So I consulted a lot of encyclopaedias, spent a lot of time in local libraries - this was in the days before I had a computer or access to the Internet - and made a LOT of notes. I also wrote to South Carolina and a dear man in the State Archives Dept. in Columbia sent me reams of photocopied information. I also read all the fiction I could find set in American colonial times. At least I started off with a basic knowledge - I have a retentive memory and have been reading all my life - and now found the particular details I needed to give the background validity. There's more than just the setting to consider, of course. A friend of mine here said, "the buildings, the food, the clothing - it must have taken you forever to research all of it!"<br /><br />I believe the greatest compliment I have received is that people have told me they loved the STORY, and have barely noticed the background, though they find it interesting. Hooray, I did it (almost) right.<br /><br />Ahem, now for the thing I did wrong. I'm SO tempted not to mention it, because the only person who's noticed is an English-born colleague in our local Writers Group. I mentioned lemons, twice, in a 350 page book. And of course in those days, lemons were practically unprocurable. Limes from the West Indies, possibly, but not lemons. I live in a warmish climate and they're a commonplace feature of life. Whereas my fellow writers group member told me they had to be imported to Great Britain from Spain right up until the 1950s. So, folks, it's practically impossible to get every research detail correct, and I understand those other authors who, like me, quite innocently make glaring mistakes.<br /><br />Ah, yes, the story's the thing!<br /><br />The Pirate And The Puritan, by the way, is available in e-book form at the publisher's site: <a href="www.thewildrosepress.com/">www.thewildrosepress.com</a><br />In Kindle edition at <a href="http://www.amazon.com">www.amazon.com</a><br />And as a paperback at <a href="www.amazon.com">www.amazon.com</a> <a href="www.amazon.co.uk">www.amazon.co.uk </a> <a href="Barnes&Noble"> B & N </a> <a href="http://www.borders.com">Borders</a> and all other online sellers.<br /><br />Do join other CRR authors for more fun at our blog:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.classicromancerevival.com/blog/?p=688">http://www.classicromancerevival.com/blog/?p=688</a><br /><br />Prizes for best comments!<br />Monya MaryMonya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2330952563654658074.post-21197521212316992952009-05-09T06:22:00.001-07:002009-05-09T06:33:09.389-07:00AND Another Review for Blueprint For Love!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytfaG9qiFr-1V-jQYeSx7YFI-E-bMvUunWBxFXNyL3vY1a7FHacVk6helHtyUiMyr9iuadTCvdMIrbR3L6tfJB1UDid6QpNNp30uDZUpl7YrSjYm5a3Evxj-Abqc8AbBdlGoIts6u9AJZ/s1600-h/DCP_0856.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytfaG9qiFr-1V-jQYeSx7YFI-E-bMvUunWBxFXNyL3vY1a7FHacVk6helHtyUiMyr9iuadTCvdMIrbR3L6tfJB1UDid6QpNNp30uDZUpl7YrSjYm5a3Evxj-Abqc8AbBdlGoIts6u9AJZ/s320/DCP_0856.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333814567900690194" border="0" /></a>Nothing to do with the post, but just as exciting. Our mandarin tree, after eight years of nurturing, watering, and fertilising, has this year produced its first bumper crop!<br /><br />Writing a book is much the same process...<br /><br />There are two more reviews on Amazon and more at www.thewildrosepress.com<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Christy Tillery French of Midwest Book Reviews has this to say about Blueprint For Love:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Can a traditional man with old-fashioned values and a brash, contemporary woman develop an enduring relationship? A disastrous accident holds the answer for both.<br /><br />Everything a reader could want: heartwarming romance, handwringing suspense, a bit of a mystery, and two very likeable characters who are complete opposites. Clayton's character development is excellent, as is her propensity for visual imagery."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span></span></span>Monya Claytonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10457892085239476067noreply@blogger.com0