Thank You So Much for Your Comments, it's lovely to see you here!

Wednesday, 2 April 2014

April and ISWG

April and it's that time of month again, but due to all that has happened during the last few months, I can't always be sure. However, the weather is improving, I am plucking up the courage to return to my editing, I hope to complete and finally finish River Dark, sadly neglected, and at last move on to another book. Poor old River Dark has been neglected for far too long!  But there's sunshine, I've visited my favourite 'home town' Shrewsbury, seen the park gloriously full of spring flowers, and despite the fact that I had to make an hour's detour, due to closed roads, and went on what was like a rally course through the Mortimer Forest, all is well.

Friday, 28 March 2014

Returning to Life!

Thank you so much for your kind remarks regarding my husband's illness. The cancer has been removed, he should have a small amount of plastic surgery next month to lift his eyebrow back into place, and the pacemaker that had to be fitted two days after the operation is working well. We have struggled together, life is gradually returning to what for us is almost normal, and I can now leave him for a time, spend a small time editing, and tomorrow I go to the Bleddfa Centre in the Welsh hills to spend part of the day writing poetry. His balance is still very poor, but with the stair lift and mobility scooter we manage, and the better weather is such a relief. I do hope that you are happy and well, and that the weather is kind, wherever you are. Carole.

Friday, 14 February 2014

Postponed and severe flooding!

Visit to the surgeon on the 17th February now cancelled until the 3rd March. My computer and laptop gone to the computer repair man, and the ipad no substitute for novel writing...  Even considering pencil and paper.
The next wave of repeated storms that have flooded southern and central England, and much of the Welsh coast, now hammering on the window panes. At least we are not suffereing like the many thousands of people whose homes are ruined by flood water and the farmers whose fields are now lakes and their animals in danger of drowning. 

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

Thank you for your Kindness

Just wanted to say how much I appreciate your kindness. We are very much 'on hold' at the moment. Although the pacemaker seems to be working, we are now waiting to find out if my husband must have a further cancer operation. We see the surgeon on the 17th February, and the wait seems for ever.  Thinking of you too, Margie. 

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

Thursday, 30 January 2014


Husband struggling with cancer problems and now has to have pacemaker fitted, so have been busy and shall be missing for a while. Regret not being able to visit you. Carole.

Friday, 17 January 2014

Friday Book Excerpt - Kaleidoscope - 17/01/2014


we began before dawn in sulphur light
birds rose from the night’s entrails
but we ignored the omens, the sky full of rain

the indifferent Severn bubbled under sandstone
as we climbed mole pocked hills out of the valley,
where bone-snapped hedges sheltered beasts
and the remains of the storm tapped smaller branches

landscape we’d barely noticed was engraved
on memory, lights shone from a distant farmhouse,
and men fishing by the reservoir were envied permanence

passing through towns, factory windows glowed amber
and we came to a different place, open
unending before us, drain crossed, the wheeling seabirds
dipping to mud flats, exposed by shallow seas

sheets of scudding rain shook the land’s end

Monday, 6 January 2014

Friday Excerpt – 10/01/2014 – First Wolf

My New Year Greetings were late, now I'm too early..... 

There were heavy, running footsteps coming across the enclosure, men shouting in that strange language. Axe heads thudded against the stout, oak door making me shake with fright.  There were terrifying screams, I smelled burning thatch and heard a crackling and a frightening whoosh above my head.  Thick smoke drifted under the door, swirling round my feet.
 ‘Quick,’ an old monk shouted at me, the one who sent poor Desmond to his death, ‘follow me.’  
Hurrying as fast as his old body would allow, he ran to the altar.  Snatching up the book covered with Juliana’s jewels, he thrust it into my hands and cried, ‘This is more precious than your life – you must bring it safely to the monks at the White Church – close by the monastery at Durham.’  Then picking up a tall candlestick, fear giving him strength, he swung it above his head, smashing the coloured glass in the high window above the altar.
Modig was barking, screams from the enclosure froze my blood.  I heard the church door splintering.  The old monk peered through swirling smoke towards the door, grabbed me by my tunic, and shouted, ‘Swear you’ll do this!  Swear on the holy book that you will guard it with your life!’
He seized my wrist, slamming my hand hard onto the surface of the gospels, the jewels digging into my flesh, and I cried, ‘I swear!  I swear!’
‘Go quickly − climb through the window − drop down into the bushes.  We shall pray the smoke will hide you!’ the monk said.
Stuffing the book inside my tunic, I tightened my belt to keep it safe.  Then climbing onto the altar, with fragments of burning thatch floating in the air around me, I pulled Kendra up after me.  Seizing a silver and bronze chalice, I used it to smash the shards of glass sticking up around the broken window.
Then reaching for the stone ledge, I lifted myself over it.  Wriggling on my belly, until most of me was through the hole the monk had made, I fell to the ground.  Bruised and winded, I saw Modig leap through the opening, with Kendra struggling to follow him.  Pushing frantically to force her wide shoulders through the narrow gap, she landed heavily beside me.
‘We must get to the coracles,’ she hissed.
(if you would like to read more, clink on the links below)
(c) Carole Anne Carr 2013.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Wishing You All A Very Happy New Year and Successful Resolutions!

A little late, but those of you who kindly join me on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and on other social networking sites may have noticed that our year began in our usual style with my husband being rushed to the local community hospital after another fall. Thankfully he is now healing, in his favourite chair, and all is reasonably right with his world.

I don't know if you make new year resolutions? I am determined to keep to them this time and to report back on my progress or lack of the same! 

So here they are.... 

1. To ensure that my husband has no more falls - I have purchased two walkie talkies from a toy shop, quicker than mobiles, so that we can talk wherever I am in the house - I have hearing loss and don't always hear him when he calls. Should be fun, too. 
2. To be strong and to support my husband through his coming cancer operation and not to weaken.
3. To complete two more books in 2014, the one almost completed, River Dark, for children, and to finish and edit Snakeskin and Failed Feathers, that is for grown-ups. Would be great, after the success of my first slim volume of poems, Kaleidoscope, in paperback and Kindle, to find time to publish another book of poems. Thank you, all of you for being so encouraging. 
4. To do something else instead of just hours spent writing. So I am re-learning to play the piano - have sent for examination pieces, and have joined a local hand embroidery group. Both occupations sadly neglected for far too many years. First visit to the embroidery group on the 7th. January! 
5.  To blog once a week, and to do the same with my website, keeping it up to date. Shall decide which day of the week is better. 

All the best with your resolutions, whatever they might be!

Friday, 20 December 2013

Friday Excerpt - Walking to Weald Church on Christmas Eve

This time I've added one of my Christmas poems, I do hope you enjoy it.
Wishing you a very Happy Christmas.
Walking to Weald Church on Christmas Eve
the birth hour due
we leave the row of sleeping, silent houses
and climb the narrow lane between soft pillowed
hedgerows, breaking through glittering snow crust
to feathered layers that sting our flesh
arm in arm,
and giggling with the adventure of this ritual,
your torch beam the only guide to distant
stone-spilled light
where coloured angels, window saints,
stain the surrounding fields with scarlet, cobalt blue,
for the coming celebration
and we gather strength
push on against the whirling flakes, and the door leads
to warmth, companionship.
we shake the melting snow from our coats
and gloves, look down the aisle towards the humble crib,
the scattered straw, the primary school’s offering, the
infants turn this year. Admiring the sheep and oxen,
crayon daubed in rainbow colours, we shuffle in the rising
damp along the pews and smile in hushed anticipation
(c) Carole Anne Carr 2013.

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

These little characters are amazing!

These lovely creatures were created by Juan Carlos Federico, do visit his website. He designs these little people for use in story books. If you have a story that would be a suitable home for them, you might be interested in working with him.

Friday, 13 December 2013

Friday Excerpt - 13/12/2013 - Mrs. Mason’s Cat Takes Flying Lessons

 I’ll try and tell you what it was like. Well, it was like a computer game you couldn’t turn off and you’re in it and the villains are going to get you. But it isn’t a computer game, it’s real, and it happens to you lots of times and you can’t stop it.
I’m Luke Smith, I’m eight, big and strong for my age my Dad says, I want to be a footballer when I grow up, but I’m not big enough to fight an Albononi!
I always knew when it was going to happen. I’d go up to bed and I’d hardly have time to shut my bedroom door when the floor wobbled. I’d run to catch my alarm clock before it crashed to the floor, and my bed bounced across the carpet like a kangaroo.
Then a violent wind howled through my room, and there was a sound like two huge balloons rubbing together. I tried to hold on to the end of the bed but the wind was too strong and I’d go flying through the air and thump against the wall. But it didn’t hurt, for the walls of my bedroom had turned into a kind of bouncy trampoline made of rubber and there was a horrible smell like new party balloons.
The rubber stretched and stretched until you could see through it. It was so thin I went through it with a loud pop and the screaming wind carried me into the gaping mouth of a rocky tunnel of swirling rocks, with millions of stars glittering through gaps in its spinning walls.I rattled round and round in the tunnel, like clothes in a washing machine. I always had a sick feeling in my stomach.

(c) Carole Anne Carr 2013

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Andromeda Minor (working title) – story for 7 – 9 year olds – Friday Excerpt – 06/12/2013 - early for once!

I've almost completed a story for 7 to 9 year olds, called Andromeda Minor, (working title). I've added an excerpt on my website and blog. My first book for this age group. I would love to know what you think!! I still need to draw the illustrations, and hope to do this over Christmas. I love drawing as much as writing my books. 

space_creaturesBlasts from the warrior’s kalixer exploded around me, the steel threads from the weapon landing dangerously close, hitting the sand, and showering me in stinging red hot pebbles. I’d dropped my pulse gun, I couldn’t fire back. I sprinted across the desert floor, leaping over the stinking, boiling pools of sulphurous liquid, desperate to avoid the heavily armed creature intent on killing me. I swerved as I ran, cursing as the toe of my trainer touched the edge of one of the scalding pools. I leapt away as the rubber melted. Mum would kill me when I got home and saw the mess my school uniform was in. That's if I ever did get home! 
I’d  have a chance if I could reach the caves. Drifting red vapour on this horrible planet was scalding my lungs, making me gasp for breath. Not much further – come on just keep going.  Stony ground made me stumble, spiky cactus tore at my legs. I glanced back and saw the Albononi warrior’s red glittering eyes through slits in his scheelite armour, he was catching up with me!  

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

Wednesday, 4 December 2013 IWSG 04/12/2013

... doesn't matter what medium is used....  continued...

sorry this is in two parts, problem with posting, please see previous post below... thanks...

South American bird mask.

IWSG 04/12/2013 - doesn't matter what medium is used....

It doesn't seem to matter which medium you use, the problems, or worries, are all the same. I met up with someone who was making and selling t-shirts. They were beautifully made but her concern was that when washed the printed slogan might bleed.

When making and selling my papier-mâché sculptures, I was worried that I may not have applied sufficient artists' varnish to them and that they might deteriorate. Silly, because some I have kept are now nearly fifteen years old and still in excellent condition. Now that I am thinking of making and selling these craft pieces again, I'm sure the old worries will return.  

 You might be interested in how I make these pieces. I do not use wire, only newspaper, tissue paper, with wallpaper paste. Then white emulsion to seal the print and covered with acrylics and varnish. It is the same process as sculpting with clay. The shaped creation is then covered with postage stamp pieces of torn paper, up to twenty layers and the whole eventually turns to wood.

This is my copy of a Gustav Klimt painting. The snake was problematic, couldn't achieve the sinuous effect with paper, so used string covered in newspaper and then painted. The 'tongue' is gold wire. 

Friday, 29 November 2013

Friday Book Excerpt from River Dark

cac_riverdark_a5.inddHe nodded, but to my surprise, he suddenly looked miserable, and after a long silence said, in a very small voice, ‘What do you think will happen to me, Josh...  when we get to Coalport?’
‘You’ll be all right, Billy,’ I said, trying to think of something to cheer him up.   ‘You’re mum will be missing you by now.’
‘No she won’t!’
‘If − if she isn’t, then I’m sure my mum will take you in.’
I hadn’t asked Mum, but I knew she wouldn’t let the Beadle take Billy to the workhouse.  But where was Mum?  I shuddered. Where was Dad?  I began wondering if he were any better and if Maria had kept her promise to care for them both.
 I looked down at Billy.  I couldn’t tell him I didn’t know where my family was, for he looked happier now and walked off, saying he would look for Rags and see if he had water in his bowl. 
I had so many thoughts racing through my head. The nearer we came to Coalport, the more dangerous it was for me.  A picture of the groom Crake came into my mind, making me feel cold all over. What if Matt hadn’t been able to tell them at Atterley Hall what really happened to the bridle, and that it hadn’t been my fault?

(c) Carole Anne Carr 2013.

More of my Fun Papier-mâché

Thursday, 28 November 2013

Craft is Soul Healing

Maybe you are in need of soul healing. Clarissa Pinkola Estes thinks that we are, and it is so very true. That is why, whenever we are stressed, tired, committed to too many things, the making things with the hands is so healing. I shall return to my  papier-mâché for a while. 

one of my sliding cat bowls
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