Jaye’s Week: From the Edge of Insanity…

My brain needs discipline, as I can no longer make it behave the way I want it to.

Mind you, it must be contagious, for my laptop and tablet are showing similar tendencies.

I have spent last evening, first with the laptop and then the tablet, trying to run through my emails from the comfort of my armchair.

The laptop was on a go-slow, so I switched to the tablet.

This annoying piece of crap decided not to respond at all. Patience personified, I kept trying, only for the battery to drain away faster than a chocolate teapot. Something it shouldn’t have been able to do since it wasn’t doing anything.

I can feel the day coming when I will take a hammer to both of them as I am not sure how much longer my brain can cope with these insanity-inducing contraptions.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t aware of all the wonderful things they can do. When in a good mood, of course.

But I ask you, is it asking too much to have a piece of equipment that does what it says on the tin?

We wouldn’t stand for such substandard performance from any other electrical object, so why, for all that’s Holy, do we put up with it?

The main desktop PC is not immune to such shenanigans, it’s just sneakier. Its favourite trick is ignoring whole sentences while I am busy typing them.

I get no warning, no sign that something has gone awry. The first I know about it is when I try to read the work back, only to find yawning great holes where parts of my story are missing.

I tell you; it is beginning to feel like a conspiracy…

Speaking of a conspiracy, has anyone else noticed how difficult (annoying) Word is becoming? They seem to tinker with it almost every day and it is becoming a nightmare. I was reading a post earlier, where the virtues of Scrivener were explained, and how sensibly easy it is. Maybe I didn’t need Word anymore?

Any feedback on this, please?

On the bright side, and I do try to find this even on those grey days, nothing affects my pen and paper. Sometimes I am so glad that I can write, blissfully, as far away from technology as I can get. As happy as Larry, knowing that I am in total charge of the creative process. Until it is time to commit it to digital, that is!

So, to end on a much happier note, I must report that the mindset for the new WIP Ghost of a Chance, is firmly in place. I just need to find a better way of working on it.

But I have enjoyed being away from all the technobabble so much, that I shall be doing more of it!

The Past…

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Is it old age that has the past rushing in like a raging river?

Lost moments remembered.

The way my legs felt after taking off my roller skates, they were still there, like a phantom limb, my dad said.

The way my backside ached, playing on my bike all day. No trouble leaving the front door open, people walk in any time of the day.

Kettle always on the boil, no worries as to the lateness of the hour.

We were safe playing out after dark. That’s when I took notice of the stars.

A penny would buy a bag of broken biscuits, keep me going until teatime.

Or a bag of chips if you remembered to bring old newspapers.

Running errands for the neighbours meant I always had money to spend.

Mum gave me a shilling a week pocket money, with that I could go swimming, buy a bag of chips after.

Walking home with hot chips in my hand wrapped in newspaper, one of my best memories.

It’s not the same today, they come in polystyrene boxes.

I took my granddaughter swimming. There’s no diving, no jumping, no fun

Just swim up and down. We used to chase each other beneath the water

Pull each other under, who could make the biggest splash is frowned upon now.

Some places had a diving pool only, which feels sterile to me.

That’s the way of things these days, we all walk on tiptoes.

Could be the past should stay behind a dark curtain…

© Anita Dawes 2021

Time… #Poetry

Image by Pexels from Pixabay


I remember when I had wings
Before Earth became my home
When days were young
I had not yet leaned that time is my enemy
A parasite, my own personal stalker
Stealing moments of my life
Memories slipping away
Turning my steps slower
Empty space in mind
Filled with strange thoughts
That do not belong to me.
I feel I have twinned with another mind
Maybe one day, they might tell me who they are
I have learned many things in my latter years
That I never thought to put to mind
Mind, like an empty room
Has space for so much more
Why did I not know this when I was young
When time was still on my side?
I feel like a greedy child
There is never enough of the things you like
The heart and mind, wanting more
Wandering from place to place
Still looking for that special something
That eureka moment
that tells you nothing really matters
All thoughts turn to dust
Only the moment holds the charm of life…

© Anita Dawes 2021

#Friday Flashback ~ Out of the Shadows and Into my Book…


This is how Silent PayBack began…

For more than a week now, I have had this new character in my head. He has been following me around, watching my every move. I have tried to talk to him, in my head, you understand, but he has this enigmatic smile, and that’s all I get from him.

I think he wants me to figure out what to do with him, guess what he wants to do but so far, my brain is siding with him and refusing to cooperate.

This morning, I decided I would try to interview him, something I have done before with several of my characters, but you guessed it, he wouldn’t even sit down!

All I know so far is that I do want to write about him, and if I must go through hoops to do it, so be it!

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod just then, so it would seem the game is on…

At first glance, he seems an unlikely hero, at least for one of my books. Not very tall, and slender with dark eyes and long hair tied back in a ponytail. Simply dressed in a dark shirt and jeans. But there is an aura about him, he could be a magician, magically producing doves from balls of tissue or flowers from thin air.

He has moved a little closer. I seem to have his full attention…

He is probably something in law enforcement, a police officer or detective, or why would he have turned up on my doorstep? I get killers too, but somehow I know he isn’t one of them. I hadn’t intended to write another crime thriller, I fancied a change, something haunting or spooky perhaps.

There is another character in my head, and although this one looks harmless, all blonde and attractive, the boy next door type. But I know instinctively that he means trouble. Are these two men destined to cross swords? I am beginning to think they are…

I have a lot of thinking imagining to do and to save confusion; I will call the dark haired one David and the blonde William. I already know they are two very different people, and discovering what they are about will be very interesting…

And the rest, as they say, is history…

©Jaye Marie 2020

Jaye’s Week… still waiting…

The days are dragging by with no word from the hospital. They say that no news is supposed to be good news, but that’s not the over riding feeling in our house. Hopefully, it means there is nothing serious to report.

And just when I was sure life couldn’t get much worse, my arthritis decided to prove me wrong. It is always there, but usually nothing a few pain killers and analgesic cream can’t control. Over the weekend, it decided to test the waters, so to speak. I didn’t mention it, as I didn’t want to complain or worry everyone, but my sister’s eagle eyes miss nothing.

We have been lucky over the years, never managing to be out of commission at the same time, so if I wasn’t feeling bad enough already, every time the pain screwed my face up, I wished it were mandatory to wear a mask indoors!

We have always wondered which one of us will shuffle off first, and these days, I wouldn’t take any bets on it!

Interview with a Legend…

I am sitting in front of Jaye’s computer, looking at all the things she works on, wondering if there is anything I can do. Maybe I could try an interview.

I went back to my pen and paper.

Jaye was gardening, so I stayed in her seat, which made me wonder if this had anything to do with the strange feeling creeping over me. Someone stood behind me. I could feel the energy, like pinpricks on my skin. I could smell the wild woods, all the strange scents he brought with him.

I felt afraid to turn.

I knew Merlin stood behind me and didn’t want him to vanish. I wanted to see if he had a long white beard. That’s when he spoke.

‘No beard, no pointy hat, I do have a staff.’

I pulled out the chair beside me, the one I sit in when giving Jaye my work. He sat, and I was looking at a legend. My breath stuck like a hot potato in my throat. I am looking at his blue-green eyes that should be in the crown jewels.

‘Ask away,’ he said, with a voice that will replay in my mind forever. Forget Chopin, Brahms, Beethoven, Liszt, this voice is music.

‘Why Camelot?’ I asked. ‘Why make a King?’

As he answered, I saw the light in his eyes change, like strobe lightning.

‘To rid the country of Roman law, to unify the people.’

I held the moment, asking about the Roman blood running through the veins of the British people. ‘You cannot be rid of all the things they leave behind.’

His body went rigid, and I think I have offended him.

‘What they leave behind will soon be forgotten.’

I didn’t want to comment again for fear he might smite me with his staff. I noticed the slight grin on his face, forgetting he could read my thoughts.

‘If you could do it again, would you do the same?’ Again, that voice, the dancing light in his eyes, made me wish that I had a thousand questions to ask.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘The same, yet different. I would take my time, make sure there would be no betrayal of Arthur by a French Knight. There would be no need of the grail.’

I tried not to think about his answer. I could tell he knew by the shifting of his weight in the chair.

‘You think I am wrong?’

Looking sideways at him, I said, ‘Maybe. It could be a more modern idea that would be relevant in the now. I know some of your ideas were good. Chivalry, Valour, truth, they should be shown differently. We have too much machinery, kids with their eyes on the future. How to be famous, how to be rich. You need a new game, Merlin. One that can combat the invisible while you’re at it. We have too many germs. Too many people are trying to get rich from disasters. Little has changed since Arthur’s days. The crafty always know how to make money from misery. Often as not, causing it in the first place.’

Before leaving, Merlin said he was glad he popped in. ‘I have much to think about before I visit again…

( Next time I will be ready for him. I will have my questions written down!)

#ThrowbackThursday : CrossFire by Jaye Marie #CrimeThriller #Fiction


DI David Snow has another killer to catch, a killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits. 

Betrayal and lies come to the surface as Snow struggles to find the truth, but is he looking in all the wrong places?

Can he outwit the killer, or will the truth cost him his life?


Excerpt from CrossFire

‘Do you know why we have brought you here today, Ann?’

Ruth thought she would ease her way in, rather than accuse her straight off, for triggering any hostility wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The woman stared at Ruth, her pale, colourless eyes searching for clues. ‘Nah… but I ‘spect you’ll get to it pretty quick…’

Ruth indicated a brown paper bag on the table beside her. ‘We found a pair of work boots at your house, Ann. According to your husband, they’re not his. Are they yours?’

Ann Taylor glared at Ruth. She seemed to be enjoying the interview, her arrogance showing through the previous nervousness. ‘Dunno, can’t see them can I?’

Ruth undid the bag and placed the dirty boots on the table. Most of the mud had dried and fallen off, but still didn’t seem like the kind of boot a woman would wear. ‘Are these your boots, Ann?’

Without looking at the boots, she shook her head. ‘Nah, I don’t think so.’

Ruth looked at Snow, but not for confirmation. She wondered why he was choosing to stay silent. What was the point of sitting in if he wasn’t going to contribute? Not that she cared, one way or the other. She had only looked at him to signify inclusion.

She looked back at the woman. ‘Are you quite sure, Ann?’

The woman shrugged her shoulders and refused to speak.

‘For the benefit of the tape, Ann Taylor has refused to answer.’

Ruth decided to read out the coroner’s report, detailing every bruise and damage to the child’s body. When she read the part about the boot imprint on the child’s back, she slid the photograph across the table in front of the mother.

‘Did you do this, Ann?’

When the woman didn’t answer, Ruth decided it was time to play the ace card, and she looked forward to it. This cold-hearted bitch of a woman was about to be arrested, but not before Ruth had enjoyed herself. ‘Are you aware that the person who wore these boots would have left significant DNA inside them?’

Ruth paused, watching as the realisation sunk in.  ‘And are you also aware that we have tested your DNA and it has been proved that you are the owner of these boots?’

The fear and shame were beginning to show on the woman’s face, and Ruth watched, wondering what she would do now. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Ann Taylor’s face seemed to implode, as the terror of being found out took effect.  ‘I swear I don’t remember that part… I know I were angry, but when she fell over and banged her head, I thought she were dead…’

‘So what did you do then, Ann?’ Ruth knew what had happened next, but not which one of them had done it.  ‘Were you aware that Amy was still alive when you dropped her into the canal?’

The horror was all-encompassing, as the woman realised the enormity of what she had done. She looked around the room, just once, before she started screaming…