Meltdowns – When our emotions overload

When I look back over the amount of times I’ve moved house since I was nineteen years old… Well it’s a lot. To be precise it’s at least twenty times. We’ve had few issues with rental properties, though in the last two years there is a boom again because fewer people can afford to buy their own property. The average in New Zealand is around $975K (other than Southland). Instead of buying people are lining up to rent. One house we viewed had over thirty people sign up for the open home. It’s no wonder more people are homeless. Fingers crossed we will be able to move house this year. I’ve already had one emotional overload with things going wrong, mainly in the last forty-eight hours of our stay in Christchurch. Anxiety is horrible, though when everything turns bad within hours, it is a nightmare. I’ll admit right now, I cried for the first time since I arrived back in New Zealand in March 2019.

Luckily one of my daughters was with me, and held me, while I cried on her shoulder, stroking my back to calm me down. We managed to get everything sorted in the end, though spent $120 more than we’d ever intended. This is when I wished I sold more books and knew more about marketing, it’s a good job I’m going to do some more training this year.

What a start to a new year. Though none of this is totally crappy, it wasn’t what I needed either. There again when do we ever get what we want, life is about learning and getting your needs filled. Obviously there is something I still need to learn about life which I keep missing.

What happened?

House hunting is getting frustrating and we finally find out why. One property manager texts me and asks if we can ask our landlord to reply to her messages because they aren’t answering her calls. So I emailed them asking them to call this property manager and give them a reference. I got a concise reply, which wasn’t what I’d being expecting. In fact, I’m still peeved due to the amount of money we’ve spent only to find out our present landlord isn’t replying to any reference requests because they don’t hand them out until after the active tenancy is no longer active… aka, we’ve ended the tenancy and no longer live there. They also only do verbal references and stated we need to give 28 days notice, which we already knew. I mean we’re old hats with renting already and due to having my publishing business, I’m kept up to date with all government changes for business which includes tenancies.

Let me state now, that a landlord is not legally required to hand out a reference in New Zealand. It is something I’d think about 95% of them do. They also generally give them prior to a tenant leaving their tenancy, thereby helping them get rehomed. We also have a Bond system here to cover any damage, other than wear and tear.

The problem is… when you go to apply for another home, most property managers want to have a reference from your last landlord to verify you’re a good tenant. If they can’t get one, then you lose the chance of getting the house you applied for. The last thing we want in these days of Covid is to be homeless due to lack of a reference, causing a lack of a new home. Argh. When we told the property manager who’d text me, they weren’t amused as our landlords attitude. By lunchtime on Wednesday, I’d had enough and we went out for a walk and lunch. A long walk at that and considering my bad back, I’m rather proud of myself. On the way back to the hostel, my daughter stopped at the bus terminal to buy a Metro card so we could get to the Airport the following day. This is where the extra costs started. $20 later, she caught up with me in Cathedral Square and we took some photos of the tumbled down cathedral from the earthquake ten years back. (they are finally rebuilding it).

Christchurch is now a gorgeous blend of old and new, the sad part is the tumble down building and the vacant lots still fenced off. There is a lot of new central city homes looking over parklands where building have been cleared away. I wonder if some might be Red Zone areas, which can no longer be built on. I have no real idea at the moment.

Slide Show of Christchurch

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The following morning, we signed out of the hostel checking where to find the bus stop (thanks the reception) and set off to wait for the bus. The bus which never arrived. It was late. In face, it never arrived and nor did the next one. Getting worried my daughter looked on their website for information. Apparently there were disruptions for Thursday, though it didn’t say what. Digging deeper, she finally glanced at me. “The 29 bus is not running from 10 am – 1 pm due to a UNION meeting!”
What the hell? Why couldn’t some other drivers take over the run? We had a bus card, it would’ve cost us just over $5 to get to the airport and instead we ended up paying for an UBER at a cost of $30. This made us $50 over budget. I just wanted to get on the plane and fly home. Nope more instore for us. Stupidly we asked about our baggage… which ended up costing us another $40 and this is when I had my emotional meltdown on my poor daughter.

The flight was as bumpy as hell, though the flight was only an hour long due to the wind pushing us. Arriving at our airport in Palmerston North we had to get a taxi to our home at another $30 because my husband was in Wellington with our other daughter visiting our son for his birthday. Now I’m out of pocket for $120 and out of pocket due to our landlords lack of response for a reference for houses we’d applied for.

I think I have a right to be peeved with life in general, especially after all the money I wasted viewing houses we never had a chance of getting. We wish we’d known this prior to signing for the tenancy we’re in now… if we’d known, we probably wouldn’t have signed the paperwork.

I wonder what life is going to throw at us next. Hopefully nothing nasty for a damn change.


A New Cousin and Book Two of Enchantments

I’m glad you enjoyed the last sample from a story…I am still writing. It will be called ‘Love Reunited.’ Though it is a love story with a HEA, it is also a murder mystery story which I hope you’ll enjoy. The little girl is unharmed and you even get a lesson in Family History Research (another of my hobbies and jobs). I may let you see more of the story, however this post is about a new contact who is a cousin and happened to read one of my books called ‘Enchantments – The Beginning.’

Enchantments is a fast-paced YA fantasy book introducing you to eight characters, their animals and trainers. I wrote this back in 2016 and published it in 2017. Each character has an animal which gives them energy boosts to help save the human world from the Shadows. Seven of the eight are Bul’ith, which is revealed to them in their 18th year. When they turn 21, they meet their animal and train. The animals are: Wolf, Cheetah, Falcon, Komodo Dragon, Bear, Anaconda and a Wild Boar. The 8th Bul’ith is missing, and a human takes his place without an animal.

The new cousin enjoyed the read, she asked for more. I convinced my muse to give it a go and we now have nearly 4k of a new story. I’ve put a bit below and a picture of Briar, one of the Bul’ith.

Mending Briar – Draft

Far from the battle in the city of Chantari, the young Destinies were training for the ultimate battle.

Kendrall appeared at the edge of the training square, his eyes anxiously watching the combatants engage with swords, daggers and pure animal strength. Twisting and turning, they laughed jubilantly when they outdid their betrothed.

Qwaun appeared at his side, his arms crossed over his chest.

“They’re doing well.”

“Aye, though we will need to intensify the training,” sighed Kendrall.


“The Shadows attacked several hours ago.”

“How the hell did…”

“Possible it’s something to do with the small amount of animal power they got from Briar. We’re yet to find out.”

“Tis a pity we can’t get Briar’s gem back.”

“None have survived entering the shadow realm,” he winced, seeing Ruben hit the stony ground hard, rolling to the side, so the sword missed his stomach. His right hand reached out, yanking Briar’s foot off the ground. She moved into a tumble, arching over Ruben and standing up on the other side with a huge smile.

“They are good together, though the bruising can be quite bad for both of them.”

“Tis a pity we can’t do…” he trailed off. “I’m going to the library,” Kendrall disappeared.

“What the…”

Joz found Kendrall with his head buried in a pile of old scroll, muttering as his finger moved through a list.

“What are you doing, Kendrall,” she touched his shoulder making him jump.

“Argh. Searching for strong small mammals.”

“Whatever for? Aren’t you meant to be…”

“It may help,” he muttered.

“Help what?”

“Win the war,” he glanced at her with a smile. “I’ll let you know when I know.”

“Don’t forget to talk to Mistress before you do anything…”

“You know I will, Joz. Stop worrying.”

“The trouble you get into,” she murmured, walking away.

Kendrall wasn’t listening, he’d gone back to studying the list writing down names of different mammals and a couple of insects.

“So many creatures,” he sighed.

“What are you looking for, Kendrall,” said Mistress.

“I suppose Joz told you I was up to no good,” he scowled.

“Not at all. I always know when you are in Chantari,” she laughed. “Remember, I do rule here. Now tell me your idea and what it is you want. I may be able to help.”

“Briar,” he sat up, indicating his boss to sit down. “I know she can’t have energy from Dulcie due to the missing gem and her now being human. The pain would be to much for her to handle.”

“Correct, along with the scaring which could damage her strength.”

“What if we can find a small mammal or insect who has an abundance of energy and strength who could do the same job as the falcon but with less danger and scarring?”

“She can’t keep the energy inside her without the gem.”

“What if she can keep…” he bit his lip.


“An insect inside her to boost her energy.”

“Eww. I can’t see her accepting, let alone getting it to work. Let me talk to the Soul Keeper and see what he says.”

“I’ll keep looking. I’m sure there must have been more than one instance when the Shadows got lucky.”

“Talk to Joz, you know she has inherited knowledge and a deep understanding of our history. Get past your pain and be honourable to her, Kendrall. It’s time to live again. Way past time,” she shimmered from view, leaving Kendrall gaping at where she’d stood wondering what she knew.

“I know you…” her voice whispered.

“I’m not ready,” he muttered.

“You never will be unless you take your life in your hands and free yourself from your mistakes.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. Standing up he went in search of Joz—the love of his life.

Joz was writing on a scroll, her scripture perfect as she caught the history of this generation’s training and battle. Hearing footsteps, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Kendrall’s glowering face.

“I do hope you’re going to cheer up, Kendrall.”

He swooped her into his arms, kissing her hard, making her gasp when he released her. Eyes wide, her hand trembling, touching her lips.

“W-what was…”

“I love you, Joz. Will you be mine?”

“Will you stop messing about, Kendrall. It’s not fair how you blow hot and cold all the time,” she glared.

Kendrall looked down at the marble floor, biting his bottom lip. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I really do want you to be mine,” he muttered, slowly lifting his face until they were looking at each other. “I had things I needed to sort out. The way things are going they’ll never get sorted. I need you to be mine.”

“I’ll think about it!” she replied. “What else did you want?”

“Mistress said you could assist with some history of our battles and the humans who’ve fought with us.”

“We’ve only had one,” she frowned.

“Can you dig deeper. Mistress is sure there are more.”

“Did you find what you were looking for earlier?”

“I’m trying to find a way to give Briar more power without weakening her with scarring. I thought a small creature with a lot of power might help.”

“She would still need a gem.”

“That’s what the Mistress said. She’s gone to talk with the Soul Keeper to see if anything can be done, if we find anything.”

“Come with me. I have a list of trainees from the last thousand years. Perhaps we can see any changes.”

“I don’t recall any. I’ve been training Bul’ith for a few thousand years now.”

“This is why we will look at the scrolls. Nobody can expect you to remember every trainee, Kendrall.”

“You remember…”

“Which is why I’m the librarian,” she smiled. “Even then, I don’t always have full recall. Remember, I only took over seven hundred years ago.”

“So young,” he chuckled, making her blush.

“I maybe young compared to you, Kendrall, however, I have more knowledge than you,” she tapped her head.

They headed down a brightly lit hallway. The marble floor changed to wood; the hallway became gloomy the further they walked. Joz stopped outside a large carved wooden door with an intricate lock. Pressing her finger against the lock, the cogs and wheels began to move until the lock clicked open.


“You need to stay here. Do not enter or you may regret it,” she said. “I’ll be back shortly.”


“You’re not a librarian. To much knowledge can kill those who aren’t trained in the process of storage.”

Kendrall leant back against the wall opposite the open doors watching Joz enter and disappear. He raised his right eyebrow in surprise, crossing his arms and ankles he waited and waited… It seemed like an eternity was passing when Joz stepped out again, locking the doors behind her.

“Did you find what I need?”

“Fingers crossed this will answer your questions.” She cradled a thick scroll and set off back for the reading area where the light was bright. “Come on. I thought you were in a hurry!”

Briar 01

Itchy Writing Fingers are Back!

Well, it’s been six or more months since I have done any serious writing, and though that time has been busy with clients and live in general, it’s good to be back and writing. What a really wanted was to finish a few of the draft manuscripts I already started, however, the muse wants new work and that work is a LGBT story called ‘Reunited with Love’ It’s about two men who were once friends (yeah one of those) with a mystery right in the middle.

You will learn about Family History Research along the way. I’m hoping it will be a cool read.

Nyne Tatterdell, now a widower, married while still at University in Southern England. He took his husband’s surname, and they had a daughter. Carly is a grown up four-year-old who everyone adores with long black-brown curly hair, she takes after her papa, Jed.

Drayton Keller, who returns home to help his sister, is an old school friend of Nyne’s. The last time they saw each other, they’d fallen out. Meeting again would end up with them both thinking about the past and looking to their future. Dray is a genealogist and ghostwriter, who helps others with their family memoirs. During the first week home, he has a meeting with the head of English at the local high school to set up research classes for the English students.

In the murky darkness, something lurks…


I can honestly Say I do not know where the muse is going with this. I’m just following along for the ride. Here is hoping it will be a good story and below is an extract with Nyne and his daughter Carly.


Smiling, he drove home, changing into jeans and a shirt before walking to the primary school to which the daycare centre was attached. Standing with the other parents, he waited for the love of his life. Carly stood out with her black curls and huge smiling face. The bell rang, and the silence filled with the screams and laughter of young children as they hurried to their parents.

“Daddy,” Carly jumped into his arms, kissing his cheek. “Loves you.”

“Loves you too, Carly.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” he laughed. “Did you eat all your lunch?” She nodded. “How about we go to Roses Corner Shop for a fruit smoothie?”

“Yes, please,” she smiled, sliding down her dad’s body until her little feet hit the pavement. “Any flavour?”

“As long as it has three fruits in it,” he chuckled.”

“No fair,” she frowned, tapping her right foot on the ground.

“If you’re good for the rest of the week, maybe… we can get a chocolate flavour at the weekend.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, taking his hand, hopping and skipping alongside him.

“What sort of day did you have?”

“Good. We did painting, some reading and…” she twirled around… “played in the playground. How was your day, Daddy?”

“About the same, sweetheart, though I was teaching English to teenagers,” he smiled. “I’m not sure how much they learnt.”

“Learning is fun.”

“I’ll remind you you said that when you’re at high school,” he laughed.

Arriving at the shop, he opened the door; the bell tinkled as they entered. Carly rushed to a booth by the window. She loved to people watch for some reason, sometimes making up stories.

“What flavour do you want?”

“Choco…” she giggled. “Berry and banana, please.”

Nyne crossed to the counter, ordering their drinks and a chocolate chip cookie each. He sat back down with his daughter watching her draw with her finger on the table.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“Can you cook Lasagne? I miss Papa’s…” she bit her lip. “Please,” she muttered, staring at her dad.

“I miss him too, Carly. You can talk about Papa whenever you need, sweetheart. He was a much better cook than me. I can try and make his Lasagne. Perhaps it will go better if you help me like you used to help him.”

“I’d like that, Daddy,” she smiled up at him. Their drinks and cookies appeared in front of them as if by magic. Carly grinned, “you got cookies too. Thank you,” she fluttered her eyelashes, making him chuckle.

“She has you wound around her little finger, Mr Tatterdell,” laughed Rose, the owner of the shop.

“I’m sure she does, though as long as she is kind and helpful, I can’t go far wrong with her.”

“True enough.”

“Daddy, what are your students learning in English Class?”

“They will be learning about their family history.”

“What’s family history?”

“It’s about who we are, where we come from, What your culture and heritage… big words for a little girl like you,” he chuckled.

“Where do I come from?” she glanced up at him. In the background, he heard Rose giggle.

“A small village called Bracklesham Beach in West Sussex, way down South.”

“It sounds a long way.”

“It is. It was lovely living by the beach,” he sighed.

“Why do we live here then?”

“Papa and I got jobs here after we finished University. I grew up here. Remember Nana and Pop live here too.”

“Oh yes. When can we go and see them again?”

“Over the weekend if you like. Now finish your drink and cookie; we need to go to the grocery store.”

“All gone,” she slurped the remainder up the straw, burping quietly, wiped her face and jumped off her seat, the cookie in her hand. “Ready, Daddy.”

“Speedy Miss Carly,” he moved to the counter, paying their bill. Taking Carly’s hand, they left, heading towards home to get the car.

Funny portrait of an incredibly beautiful curly haired little girl eating watermelon, healthy fruit snack, adorable toddler child with curly hair playing in a sunny garden on a hot summer day

Funny portrait of an incredibly beautiful little girl eating watermelon, healthy fruit snack, adorable toddler child with curly hair


Doing your Homework by Terry Odell

homeworkYou Know is something you’ve probably heard since you had the first thoughts of writing. But what if what you “know” is boring? What if you’ve never suffered for your art? I prefer to think of it as “Write What You Learn.”

I’ve never been a police officer, a covert ops field agent, owned a gift shop, or run a cooking school. But I can look things up, find sources to help. While there’s some expectation that a reader will suspend disbelief, you shouldn’t push things too far. You want your readers to trust what you’re writing, and as soon as a mistake shows on the page, they’re going to wonder what else you got wrong.

If you’re writing about a character who’s field of expertise is foreign to you, for a book to be believable, you need to do your homework. And watching television is NOT doing your homework.

I spent a week on a working cattle ranch when I was writing my Triple-D Ranch series. My brother is a retired chef, and he’s willing to answer cooking/restaurant questions. When I have characters who aren’t cis like me, I seek advice from those who can answer from first-hand experience. Same goes for medical and questions. There on online groups, such as crimescenewriters at io groups, and Legal Fiction on Facebook, where you can ask questions.

I’ve done ride-alongs with deputies. I’ve attended a Civilian Police Academy. Gone to specialized conferences like the Writers’ Police Academy as well as “writing in general” ones. Listened to podcasts (my least favorite research method).

One plus of going to conferences and workshops is that speakers are usually happy to share their contact information and answer followup questions.

After a homicide detective spoke at a Civilian Police Academy session, I told him I was a writer and asked if I could call him. He said that would be fine, and when I did, I offered to meet for coffee. He asked if there was an Ale House near me. I said yes, and then he asked if he could bring some friends. I agreed to that as well. Homework can be fun, right?

Continue Reading HERE

Maisey Ryder – Agent of…

Cigarette smoke hung low in the airless room, weaving its way over the men’s heads, seeming to settle on their shoulders. 

The men’s eyes were all drawn to the small stage where a lone woman danced in a slow sultry style, her smile begging them to watch as she twisted her body around the pole in the most imaginative of poses.

“Bloody hell, where did you get her from,” Verone mumbled his cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You like the new girl then,” he said with a quiet rumble of laughter.

“Hell yeah, she’s gorgeous.”

A sudden explosion of noise behind them had the door bursting open, slamming back in to the wall. The girl on the stage screamed, grabbing her clothes she ran quickly off the stage.

“What the?” said Verone turning towards the door.

A fist landed in his face knocking him out of his chair, he landed on his backside tipping up the table and drinks on the way down.

Chairs scraped back, men stood glaring at the shadowy figure bending over their compatriot on the floor.

“What the hell,” said Verone rubbing his bruised jaw; he looked the figure up and down noticing the black boots and long black jacket curving around a long lithe body.  His eyes keep moving upwards until he hit the shadowed face.  “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“You know who I am Verone,” said a vicious voice. 

The men began to circle the shadowy figure, slowly closing in; none noticed the smirk crossing the strangers face.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“How the…” he said standing back up he finally caught a look at her face, “you’re supposed to be dead,” he scowled.

“No such luck for you.”

“What do you want?”

“Justice!” she replied glaring at him.

“I ain’t going anywhere with you, bitch,” he snarled.

The men’s attention taken; all eyes were on Verone. The woman let out a belly laugh and slowly one by one she knocked the men out, unconscious, broken or sore until only Verone was left standing.

“You coming, or do I have to take you down too?”

Sighing Verone picked up his hat scowling at his so called idiot friends groaning from the floor.

“Fine, but you won’t get away with this Maisey,” he snarled.

“Yeah I will,” she laughed grabbing his wrists and cuffing him, “I always do.”


Maisey Ryder was one hell of a woman, tough from birth; when she’d fought hard for her life. Now as an adult she still fought and demanded respect from all who worked beside her.  Not that she worked with people very often, she didn’t really get on with others.  There again she didn’t work very often either. 

She was a wanderer, never seeming to be able to settle anywhere for long. She travelled and saw the world.  Her bread and butter, the occasional bad guy who she’d haul in to local police departments in towns she wandered through.

Tall, with dark curly hair, her small slim waist gave her a curvy figure which many had to have a second glance at.  Maisey enjoyed life as much as she knew how. The admiring glances made her smirk, though some she found enjoyable.


A Draft…

We all rant about something sometimes. Well something different happened this time to me. My muse took over and my rant is a story in draft right now and I thought I’d show you a little of it. Please let me know what you think…Please also remember it is a DRAFT


This is what I imagine Jeremiah and his son Ethan would look like in this story. I must admit Ethan is so cute.

Jeremiah’s Landing by Claire Plaisted

copyright 2018

Jeremiah landed on the roof of the silver car as it shot forward. Not able to get a grip he rolled down the side grabbing the black door handle as it screamed away down the road, his body tumbling and legs breaking as he finally let go only to roll across the highway in front of a truck going the other way. The trucks breaks screeched, Jeremiah ducked, adrenalin blocking the pain in his broken leg and ankle as the underneath of the truck caught his clothing dragging him in the opposite direction, his face and hands scraping on the road bruising his skin and making it bled.

The truck eventually screeched to a stop, the driver rushing out of its cab running alongside the trailer looking for him.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered calling the cops and an ambulance. “Keep still man, we’ll soon have you out of there.”

Jeremiah slowly turned his head, his bleeding cheeks and nose a scratched-up mess, his eyes blinking. “Thanks,” he murmured. “Hurts a hell of a lot more than in the movies.” And lost consciousness.

Jeremiah woke to the sounds of beeping, trying to lift his eyelids, he quickly shut them again as the blinding white light made him wince.

“He’s awake.”

Jeremiah tried not to roll his eyes under their lids. “Turn the god damn lights down,” he muttered.

“He spoke.”

“Great hearing you’ve got love,” he moaned, trying to sit up, blinking his eyes open and wincing. “Turn the light off.”

“Light,” the woman said again. “Don’t sit up, you’re hurt.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he pushed down with his hands as the bed rose behind him to support his back. “Thanks. Where the hell am I and what… Oh yeah,” he grinned.

“You’ve scraped your skin, broken your left leg and right ankle and your face is a mess.” Said a female at the end of his bed.

“You the doctor?”


“I’m alive, which is what counts.”

“Damn lucky if you ask me,” she snapped. “The poor truck driver nearly had a bloody heart attack with your shenanigans.”

“Gotta a job to do,” he shrugged.

“Try not to get yourself killed.”

“Nice to know someone cares.”

“Your boss is here.”

“Aww shit.”

The doctor left, letting Jeremiah’s boss into the private room.

“What the hell were you thinking Jeremiah?” she slammed the door shut behind her. “You could’ve got yourself killed.”

“Doing my job. I nearly had the bugger,” he grinned.

“Except you’re now out of action for six weeks.” she snarled. “I’m putting you behind a desk once you’re back at work. Meanwhile behave.”

“Boss…” he yelled as she left his room. “God damn it.”

Her head popped around the door again. “By the way you are off work for the next week so get some rest. I’ve put Valen on the job.” And left again.

“Shit. Bloody useless…”

A young nurse entered, checked his vitals, smiled and left. It was too quiet for him. He wanted out. Tossing the sheets back he groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed to find both legs in plaster making him topple to the floor with a thud and yell. Footsteps came racing, his door banged open a nurse hurrying in scolding him.

“You idiot. What do you think you’re playing at?” Hitting the bell beside his bed another nurse looked in, sighed and went to get two porters to help lift him. “Plaster means broken bones.”

“Yeah. I want out of here.”

“Tough. You’re staying until the doctor says you can leave.”

“I have stuff to do,” he snapped.

“It’ll have to wait,” the porters entered, gently lifting him back onto the bed, both smirking.

“Do as the nurse tells you mate,” one of them chuckled. “She’s a right battle-axe at times.” And earned himself a slap.

“Get me a phone then.”

“I ain’t your secretary Mr Wilden.”

Another bell rang and the room emptied out.



The silver car roared into a warehouse at the local docks, breaks screaming as it came to a halt the engine turned off. The man got out of the car, slamming the door and lit a cigarette. He started to step forward, looking up as a fist hit him in the mouth sending him backwards. He hit the car door and slid down the side onto the cold concrete floor.

Shaking his head, spitting two teeth out and wiping the blood from his nose, he glared at the man before him.

“What the hell was that for?”

“For? You moron you weren’t supposed to bring any attention to yourself. Yet you nearly killed a…”

“I’ve no idea where the hell he came from.”

“Above you. It was all caught on camera. Looked like one hell of a stunt

What I need to Learn

Featured Image -- 1610Book Releases are hard to do. In fact the life of an Indie Author is difficult and time-consuming learning all the different things you need. As you may see many saying – It doesn’t stop at the writing.  In fact though the writing can be hard work…It can also be the easiest part.  AFter the first draft the real work begins.

Wait I have that wrong.  The work begins before you even start writing.  After all you need to find your niche readers, the genre you wish to write, connections, email lists, websites, blogs and don’t forget social media.

Then you need a business plan.  What do you want to achieve? Are you writing for readers? For money? For fun?  It is for you to decide what your journey is going to be. Your goal, your dreams, even when they change like mine did.

I am having an amazing journey.  With each learning curve, each change, experience and connection with other authors and business all over the world.  What is my story?  Strange you should ask that.

I never knew I could write stories, it happened by accident or perhaps by chance.  Since our family first bought a computer I have researched family history. Discovering my husbands line – OMG a right lot they were… Helping others with their research and formatting family history books for clients who wished to give gifts and sell books at reunions. I loved it.  Then writing took over.  Though I still do Family Research, I don’t do as much as I used to.  

I learnt a lot about English Language and how much it has changed since I attended school. I learnt how to create the correct type of document for editors and agents. I learnt when to laugh and when to rant.  My first novel (still not published) was Historical. Of course after a friend reminded me about 1st person and 3rd person along with present and past tense, I recalled how people spoke in Regency times (to a degree), what type of words were used (I generally kept with simple English needless to say) and what type of scene they were used in.  For example at a country house there would be a Cook not a Chef. In fact Chef’s weren’t much heard of even in London Town (Ton) unless you were incredibly rich – and they were generally French.

You can see straight away I went about things the wrong way. Not that I knew any better at the time. I was after all writing for fun rather than to sell anything.  I’d been bored waiting for information to arrive for a Family History book.  Anyway I continued to write, submitted a few manuscripts, got rejected and then found out about the world of Indie Authors.  YES.  And this is where I deviate yet again…

I still wasn’t doing things in the correct order. Actually I still don’t…oops.  What happened was my next learning curve.  Formatting! Learning to produce a book which was acceptable to use on Createspace and Kindle and pass their review. I LOVE FORMATTING. What did I do next?  I opened my own Publishing Company to help others. It is a continuing story of three years of growth and learning with over 25 clients.  It has been amazing.  Though not for my own novels.

I am a prolific author.  I have about twenty-six books published which few know anything about.  Why?  Because I don’t follow the rules for success. Many are at present being updated, new titles, covers and I still don’t do anything the correct way. 

What is the correct way?

Well though I am learning and reading, I now don’t have times to help myself get noticed. I’m more likely helping another author or growing my Publishing Company.  When I do have a moment in time I will read up on marketing and getting my name out there as an author. 

What I need!

A PA – which I can’t afford

A Street Team – which I don’t have time to run

An ARC Team – to assist with getting reviews

An Editor – yeah you got it, I can’t afford one…lol

A Marketing Guru – still learning.

So It seems I will be stuck for a few more years as an Author while I grow my Business as an Indie Publisher.

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Security Agent Quinton

He’s a darling. Well most of the time.  He gets caught up in the most amusing scenarios. Imagining Anastasia in the bath only to receive the backlash treatment of Ana examining his body from toe to head (yes he was dressed) while her co-workers laughed and he flushed.  It takes one to know one…sometimes.  Never take on Ana, the results can be hilarious.

Quinton’s choice is….well lets see if you can hear the tune from the teaser…

Security Agent Quinton

First person to give me the right movie to his ringtone will receive an eBook copy to read.  All I ask is for a REVIEW afterwards.  

On your marks – set – GO!!

Malachy’s Journey

Malachy Garrett was first introduced to you all in 2014.  Not many knew about him due to me still learning the trade as an author and later as a publisher. In fact I’m still learning – it is what life is all about.

MalI thought Malachy might like to tell you a bit about his history and how his story came about. I can tell you he was named by a genealogist friend in Ireland.  Annie gave me a list of several good Irish names and Malachy leapt out at me.  His surname, however, was a different matter.  This appeared for the first time part way through the book.

“Good day to you Malachy.”

“Great to be back, it’s nice to know you’ve updated my story in Hidden Secrets, though I do wish you’d push my romance with Anastasia a bit more. It’s been over two years now.”

“Stop grumbling Mal. The muse will do what she wishes, so you’ll have to wait a bit long. Meanwhile tell us how have you been?”

He ran his fingers through his gorgeous bronze hair, his eyes twinkling, lifting his right leg and placing it over his left and shrugged.

“What can I say? The investigations keep coming in, my employees break cases and we occasionally lose an agent or security guard. We are still praying Tallon will recover. You don’t happen to know do you?”

“No sorry. You know the muse has been missing in action or book 6 would be out by now.”

“Yeah. Why the hell are they dragging their feet. Eilish is miffed as hell.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“You don’t have to live with her.”

“You know damn well she keeps charging into my office at least once a week,” I muttered. “This is meant to be an interview about you, not Eilish or the others. They can wait their turn.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he chuckled.

“Are you still the boss?”

“Technically I will always be the boss, though Ana and Duggan still try to take control at times. Mind they are excellent at their jobs.”

“What is Ana doing at present?”

“In Europe trying to find her favourite security guard…You already know this so why are you asking me.”

“Mal, I’m trying to catch up to date for all your readers…Some have already read your last interview from two years ago. It’s time to update them.”

“I can’t say much has changed, Claire. Other than knowing who we are and where we are going. Life has calmed down a little…his phone buzzed…”damn” he muttered pulling it from his pocket and swiping the screen. “I’ve got to go, somethings come up. We’ll have to finish this another time.”

Sighing he stood, and left me staring at his delicious…well never mind…  Chuckling I wondered where my muse would take him next.  

Who is SHE

This was an interview I did of WORDS i did with Anita Kovacevic at her blog Anita’s Haven.  It was fun to do.  ENJOY

Who is SHE? – Claire Plaisted

Claire Plaisted, a New Zealand force of nature in the form of a mother, author, editor, publisher and book promoter, has agreed to take some time to do my no-question interview and say what my key words mean to her…



What are dreams? Where do they come from and what do they mean? In the literal sense, I have no idea. Dream Therapy isn’t something I’ve touched in my life so far.

Going back to my childhood my dream was to marry, though not a red head…Oops.  After 25 years of marriage to my darling redhead, I found it was the best thing I ever did.  Of course, as your grow and change your dreams for your future change as well.  By the time I was at High School I wanted to be a computer tech. Computers were just starting to emerge to the public and at schools.  I loved them.  Uploading from a tape recorder, drawing houses with a set of numbers in a certain sequence.  It was cool.  Then came the disappointment.  I wasn’t allowed to take computer studies because it was just a fad… Another oops.  Never mind I plodded onwards.  Never really getting the career I wanted. It seems reality was going to wipe away my dreams.

Growing up we used to receive gifts from New Zealand. The country and culture intrigued me. I had a new dream. I wanted to have a holiday there. I got that dream in 1989 and for once, I never looked back. You see I fell in love and ended up living in New Zealand. I love this country, the culture, my family. It is an amazing place to be, though a tad expensive these days.

All I dream for now are grandchildren.  Going to be waiting a long time for them, so meanwhile I enjoy my friends’ photos of grandchildren on social media.


Stress to me is a negative word which I try to remove from my life as much as possible.  Like a lot of people, I have depression.  Most of the time I’m lucky and it doesn’t rule my life, however there have been times then I have literally disappeared into a fog and taken several weeks to shift the stress away from me so I can recover.  With every negative which touches me, I try and find the positive within. I also suffer anxiety in various situations. To be totally honest my crashes generally arrive if or when several negative things happen at once.  The rest of the time I deal.  


Release a breath of satisfaction of surviving another day surrounded by those I love and those who love me.


Support is something you give and can receive in life.  I am one of those people who likes to give support, to help people find the positives, to teach and show them what is possible.  I support my family with love as I do with my friends. I must admit I am not good as asking or taking support when I need.  I tend to think I am self-sufficient, when I know I’m not. I block it away and keep moving forward.

I love to see people grow and change. One lady in particular who I admire is Patty Fletcher.  She has changed so much in the last two years, growing and taking back her positive attitude. Building on what she knows and learning new things to better herself. Enjoying her life more and helping others where she can.  Her strength is amazing.

Support is also what I do with my marketing magazine, helping Indie Authors get their books out there.  I have no idea how widely shared the magazine is. I think it does need more support to make it grow.  The thought of how many I email it to who don’t open it at all…is to a degree sad.  I am hoping to find a way to gather more support and keep the light burning. I am amazed the magazine has been running for over a year. 


With the world model usually comes those stick thin women who walk down the runway.  Well with me it was models of a different kind. Airfix Kits, be them figurines of kings and queens, ships, animals and aeroplanes. They brought us hours of JOY and family time.


Children or magazine.  They are different, though both have a life of their own.  I have three out of four beautiful children.  All grown up now, though my son is in his final year at high school.  All still live at home though perhaps not for much longer.  You see it is travel time, though I’ll cover that as part of JOURNEY.

Magazine – I issue a free marketing magazine out every month for Indie Authors and those who support them.  It helps to widen everyone’s social media presence.  It covers all genres and is family friendly. With ‘The Indie Publishing News’ magazine doing so well I have recently started one up for Erotic Indie Authors.  The first issue goes out this month.


My journey in life not just in writing and business.  Life has a way of making you realise every moment is different and for a reason.  Your life is your journey to learn what you need to know, perhaps what you missed in a different life.  We are all born to a body, though our souls continue until they have learnt what they need to go to the next level.  We all live for a reason—it is finding the reason that is your journey.  Are you there yet?

Personally, I have no idea.  I had a wonderful childhood even though I didn’t have many friends.  I journeyed through been bullied from age 7 – 18.  How it affected me, how it affects different people—is what you need to learn to move forward.  Some don’t, which is very sad, though I believe when your journey is over, then it is over. 

I have had many different types of journeys in this life giving me a wide range of information, ideas and learning which I can share. These experiences have made me who I am today. Though I’d probably not like anyone seeing deep inside me. That stone wall won’t be toppling any time soon and when it does god help me.  

I have had several journeys with my children – from perfections to disabilities.  What a learning curve that was and still is today. As a mother I am over protective, which is probably why my children still live at home.  Four journeys through birth, several journeys though death and the best journey of all is with LOVE.  My husband is amazing. He is my world. Our journey in marriage and family has had many ups and downs, though we stay strong and committed to each other, looking forward to travelling and retirement.  Our next journey starts later this year or perhaps next year.  We shall see.


I suppose there is a lot of relevance in my life these days.  In the past walking in my ancestors’ footsteps became my family history research.  These days my writing of books moved my journey towards publishing and helping others.  Life interconnects in many different ways.


Joy is my marriage, the birth of my children and one day (hopefully) the birth of grandchildren.  Joy is family, respecting, helping, learning, teaching and so much more.  It is positive energy which I love to share. Joy is a hug and a smile. It is an acknowledgement of so much the human race is missing.  I wish JOY was the thing which made the most profit in this world and then perhaps we could be at peace with each other.


My Haven is my sanctuary of peace and love of the positive life I try and lead.

Claire’s news

The latest book by me is Princess of the Earth.  It is an old story which I have republished after reworking it and making a new book cover and teasers.

It is about a young girl called Zoe who have her own journey of discovery with myths and legends which she only thought were stories.  With Fairies, Nymphs, Old Father Time, Gaia on the good side and Cronus, Trolls and Ogres on the bad side it is a battle to see who wins the day.

Links for Claire

Dear Claire, thank you so much for sharing this side of you with the readers! Happy journey!