Do visit my Amazon Page, hope to be adding books for Grown-Ups too, in the Autumn.

Thursday, 7 July 2016

Moving and River Dark!

A hectic year so far. We hope to be moving to a warden assisted apartment in Shrewsbury in a few weeks' time, should be easier in a smaller place and with some assistance. Although I have not been able to continue with my writing for several months, due to husband's illness, I have now been  able to return to the completion of the sadly neglected book, River Dark, and in order to re-motivate myself have joined the new Open University course, begining in October, to complete my M.A. in Creative Writing. 

'All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.' 
Mother Julian of Norwich. 

Monday, 19 October 2015

Reading from First Wolf.

Had a wonderful day reading from my book 'First Wolf ' to Yr 5 and Yr 6 at St. Winefride's Convent School, Shrewsbury.

Having taught primary children for 30 years, it was a delight to visit such an excellent school. Lovely children, they were fascinated by my book, asked intelligent questions, and made me feel so welcome. And teacher Mrs. Lamb arranged for a photographer to visit, so hope I find that copy of the Shropshire Star.

Friday, 16 October 2015

Halloween Children's Book.

Hoping you are happy and well? 

I have been so busy looking after poorly husband, (he  has had another fall, now slowly recovering), and looking after an autumnal garden, that I have neglected  the writing of my books and online promotion.

Must try harder! You might be interested in my Halloween book, Thin Time, reduced price for this creepy time. So sad that postage to America and other parts of the world make this reasonably priced book more expensive. But I shall be looking for a publisher for my grown-up book, and maybe then I shall have books available in other countries. However, first I must find the time to edit it!!


Looking for a Halloween book for a 9 -11 yr old? Thin Time is Halloween, when the veil between the worlds is so thin that it is possible to pass into the other world...
Alice is chosen by mistake to be Task Bearer by Fymm, a bad tempered tomb dog who is five hundred years old. She must bring back the New Year seeds at Halloween to prevent the world from dying and complete her task before Thin Time ends at midnight. Reluctantly she sets out on her dangerous quest with her small stepbrother Thomas, Fymm, and Ratatosk the Messenger Squirrel who cannot be trusted. Attacked by gargoyles and guided by Matilda from the altar tomb in Tong Church, Alice finds the door into Eihwaz, the Tree of Life, and enters the Other World, just as the gnarled roots close over her head. Descending deep in the earth, and helped by the singing cockerel stolen from the church tower, she must face the three terrible Sisters at the Well of Wyrd and the fury of Nidhogg the Snake-Dragon. Fearful her two gifts will not be enough to protect her, for she foolishly ate the third gift in a fit of bad temper, she faces the Niddhogg armed only with a stone and a gargoyle s shield. But even if she finds the seeds and defeats the terrible Niddhogg, she knows that without a loving heart she will never be able to return to her own world. And how will she know if her heart is loving enough before it is too late? Will she be trapped in the Niddhogg's Cave of Mists forever?

Sunday, 30 August 2015

Hello Again!

A woman's work...
Those friends who have kindly commented on my blog may know that I am my husband's official carer, I have to undertake the running of our home, the gardening, and now must move to be nearer to the hospital. At present it is a 60 mile round trip, not much fun in the snow. 
Therefore, over the next months, I shall be preparing to transfer husband, myself and all our possessions back to the town of Shrewsbury. I won't be  able to complete my next book, River Dark, as planned, it will have to wait until the new year. So I've restored this blog, given up the battle with the book for a while, shall concentrate upon finding a new home and the relating of my humorous trials and tribulations to anyone who might be listening :0)

Monday, 27 July 2015

What do you think?

I received a letter today from a distributor of books for our region, wanting me to stock their non-fiction products. Lovely when people think I sell books other than those I've written myself. It is well worth thinking about. Maybe this would work, provided the books are similar to some of my own i.e. history?

Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Just realised...

Hope this heatwave is not too much for you. At the moment we are warmer in the south of England than the Mediterranean.  Almost as fierce a the present heat in Atlanta, but without the air conditioning. Reminds me of my years in Africa working in the bank, had no air conditioning in those days, either.

After having deciding to post to a  page on on my website, instead of on this blog, (to prevent posting twice, haven't yet learned how to send items to both sites, the Wordpress  was set up and coded by my Grandson and my coding is at kindergarten level), I suddenly remembered that I am involved in a blog tour, helping to advertise a book, and therefore need Blogspot to give maximum exposure to the event...

Wednesday, 20 May 2015

Children of St. Cuthbert's R.C. School, Chester-le-Street, County Durham

20th May - Mrs. Garrity and Class 5    children making models of characters and writing accounts after readings from my book First Wolf. Do click on the link and see more of their work. It was a wonderful experience, talking to them via Skype.
Scan 2
   Monk scribes
   Model making
   St. Cuthbert at Prayer
   Setting sail for Lindisfarne

Scan 5

       Talking to the author of First Wolf via Skype

        The children as Anglo-Saxons and Vikings

Scan 4
Scan 6

                          Scribes and Viking Huscarls

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

I.W.S.G. Day!

It's Alex J. Cavanaugh's time again, a time to review what has happened in the last month and share. For too long, I have written very little of my sequel, River Dark. I told myself that it was because my husband is constantly ill, that I hated sequels, that the book wasn't any good. 
So I resorted to N.L.P., listening on the iPod every night for a week or so and have programmed myself to return to work. With a re-wired brain -good old N.L.P. - I now find that every morning, the task of recommencing the sequel is no longer a chore, and that I now have a more than positive attitude to the book. However, the wonderful reviews I received from you, concerning my poetry book Kaleidoscope, also encouraged me to keep going. So thank you all. 

Friday, 1 May 2015

Kaleidoscope available free - Amazon Kindle

Kaleidoscope - Poetry by Carole Anne Carr [Kindle Edition]

Carole Anne Carr

£0.00 includes free wireless delivery via Amazon Whispernet

available from 1st to 5th May

Most Helpful Customer Reviews
By G. Appleton on 25 Jan. 2015

These poems are wonderful! I absolutely love them. They draw the reader in from the first line, and one feels not only totally engaged, but often greatly moved. Artistic sensitivity is in evidence throughout - pictures are painted with colour and texture and vivid appeal to the senses, all making for wonderful imagery and use of metaphor. To me this is a very fine collection of poems, which I find myself mysteriously drawn back to, such is the freshness and pull of the narrative.

Weaving youth to adulthood in a women's poems. 8 Jan. 2015
By Patricia Kennington - Published on

‘Kaleidoscope’ by Carole Anne Carr, is a story of child-woman growing into woman-child. Her shared lyrics become a vehicle to convey dreams, memories, hopes, and desires for “the more.” Through her poems, Carole invites us to relive and feel both the clarity and confusion of moving from child to adult. Her poetry encourages us to re-experience the poignant and the painful, self-realization, and the recognition of human failure. We return to past decisions, joys, failures, and the anguish of being alive and moving on.

Patricia Kennington, TSSF, Ph.D., Spiritual Director

My May Newsletter goes out today with this month's free book offer. I do hope you will sign up for this, the form is in the column on the right. It is my first attempt at such a thing. The interest shown in my first newsletter at Easter was 60%, so very hopeful. Thank you and hugs for being kind enough to get this far with reading my post xx

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

X is for Ex-Pats

from Kaleidoscope....

African Christmas in the bush near Bulawayo

The date’s the only recognisable fact for us ex-pats,
as we gather under corrugated roof on the crumbling, concrete stoep.
Pots of poinsettia droop at our feet as we sit under a wing-infested lamp, greeting each other, the compliments of the season, and attempt to make the best of it.

Sweating, we idly watch a small scaly lizard, pop-eyed, panting,
crawl from a crack in the wall, flick a sticky tongue, and scuttle in the dust.  
Someone treads on it, trapping it, breaking off the tail.
No one comments.  Ice clinks in glasses, and bored, we turn to see
a mountain of polished flesh in snowy caftan, his oiled face
beaming with pride, the pudding held aloft by one strong hand.

Half-heartedly we applaud, and through the brandy haze,
the shrivelled artificial holly, think of home. 

Monday, 27 April 2015

W is for Writers' Weekend

....from my poetry book Kaleidoscope 

Writers’ Weekend - forgot to say this actually happened, exactly as described! At a writing course on the North East coast of England....

Cross country driving through grey sleet,
skies overcast, wet roads a black deserted ribbon,
fame spurred me on, what if I should meet
someone who’d recognise my skills that had been hidden?

There on the hill, behind high rusting gates,
thin wintery hedges, crunching gravel
sinister ivy walls, a frozen lake,
poor welcome after miles I’d had to travel.

I rang the bell, listening to the echoing silence
spreading across the cold wet hills
and waited on the step, stamped in the snow,
much more of this and I’d be very ill.

Silence... if no one came I’d freeze to death
and slithering along the icy paths through cheerless gloom
I peered through  unwashed windows, cold and wet,
a single electric bar glowed in a darkened room.

My hostess, tiring of the empty sweep of lawn,
discovered me and led me through a  hall where Mr. Pugh
among his poison vats would be at home,
‘Had I been here before, did I admire the view?’

‘A ghost appears where you are standing,
your room is on the topmost floor
there’s no disturbance on that landing,
three people have arrived, there’ll not be more.’

‘It is the time of year, the snow is falling,
sorry about the dreadful lack of heat.
Fuel costs go up, it really is appalling,
but there’s a coal fire in one room, do take a seat.’

Huddled by the fire we shut the door
the fuel in the bucket’s growing less.
Oliver like, I dared to ask for more
but, sad to say with just as much success.

Retiring for the night to white-washed cell
colder than sheep pen open to the stars,
I dressed in all I had pell-mell,
three jumpers, woolly socks, and scarves.

A sudden thought, the other rooms were empty,
switch on the light to keep the ghosts away.
Collect the quilts; there surely would be plenty.
The longest night turned slowly into day.

Our breath formed clouds at breakfast as we ate,
we rubbed our arms and clapped our hands together,
watching the food congealing on the plate,
and smiled politely at each other.

After two days, I felt that we could face
anything the army could put us through or worse.
Manoeuvres would be easy; we’d swim the frozen lake,
hardened by the rigours of the course.

What we learned I really can’t remember...

Sunday, 26 April 2015

V is for Village

...from Little Boy Good-for-Nothing and the Shongololo - my original African folktale for the very young, illustrated by me and six year old children from a local school

Chapter One - Where is the Rain-Cloud?
In a small thatched hut, in a far away village in Africa, there lived Little Boy Dakarai and his Grandmother.
Grandmother was worried. There had been no rain for days and days. She looked for the Rain-Cloud across the far Chizarira Hills. But all Grandmother could see was the hot scarlet sun digging his fingers in the dry, sandy soil.
‘If the rain does not hiss and burst on the Mealy-Meal-Pods in the vegetable patch, we shall go hungry,’ Grandmother said. ‘Dakarai,’ she said to Little Boy. ‘Go down to the vegetable patch and see if the Mealy-Meal-Pods are ready to eat.’
So Dakarai trotted along the sandy path to the vegetable patch. On the way he met some bigger boys carrying their hunting spears.

‘Hello, Dakarai,’ they said. ‘We’re going hunting, but you can’t come. You’re too small.  You must look after the vegetable patch. Little Boy Good-For-Nothing! Little Boy Good-For-Nothing!’ they shouted. They laughed at him and ran away.
‘I am not Good-For-Nothing,’ Dakarai said fiercely. ‘I sweep the floor and wash the food bowls for Grandmother.’
But he wished he could go hunting too.
      When he reached the vegetable patch, he heard a gruff voice.
‘‘One…two…three….four….that’s right….five…six….bother!’
It was his friend the Shongololo, the millipede with seed bright eyes. He was busy trying to count his feet, but he could never remember what number came after six.
He was so busy counting that he didn’t see Chapungu the eagle, high up in the sky, hunting for his dinner. Chapungu swooped down and snapped up the Shongololo in his beak.
‘Put me down!’ shouted the Shongololo.
‘Let go, let go!’ shouted brave Little Boy Dakarai. He clapped his hands and ran towards
the eagle with the cruel beak.
Chapungu dropped the Shongololo and flew away. The Shongololo fell onto his back in the soft sand, wriggling his feet in the air. Then he turned himself the right way up. ‘You saved my life, Dakarai, so I shall help you. Ugh! The Mealy-Meal-Pods are too tough to eat. Go to the Rain-Keeper, who lives beyond the Chizarira Hills,’ he said.
‘What must I do when I get there?’ asked Little Boy Dakarai.
‘You must ask the Rain-Keeper to bring the Rain-Cloud. Look for the Rain-Keeper’s hut beside the Zambezi River. Oh, and watch out for the Crocodiles!’ Then the Shongololo scuttled under a stone.