June 21. The summer Solstice. This is the longest day of the year. Am I doing something brilliant? Hardly. It's 7.25 pm. I'm typing away hoping to make sense of something but I'm not sure what.
Do you know the expression, "getting something for old rope?" It means earning something easily . I know what it means but wanted to know where it came from. There are several explanations if you Google it but the one I like best is this. In medieval times the hangman kept the rope he'd used to hang someone. Many people wanted a piece of the rope for a keepsake. (They had different views than I have) The hangman made money by cuttings pieces of the rope and selling them. Hence, "Getting money for old rope."
That's my wisdom for this evening. My mystery novel is coming along. The plot thickens and characters emerge who may or not be guilty of diamond smuggling, or smuggling illegal substances , i.e. heroin or the date rape drug or trafficking women across borders to work as prostitutes. Lots of bad people out there.
Then we have Canadian Senators stiffing the poor bloody tax payers by lying about their expenses and so on and so on. It's enough to make an elderly lady weep.
I'm going to sit down, put my feet up and read," Pretty Girl," by Annabel Lyon. She takes the reader back to Athens when Aristotle held sway.
Do read my romance novels until my mystery novel appears as en e-book or trade paper back. It'll be awhile but I shall make it!
To remind you about my romance novels, here they are. A VERY DIFFICULT MAN, historical. ISABELLE'S DIARY, contemporary with a twist. ISABELLE'S STORY. historical. RING AROUND THE MOON, Time travel.He comes from 200 years in the past to the present time. In magical Cornwall. TOO YOUNG TO DIE. A page turning contemporary mystery with my heroine on the run with a three month old baby.
Anita
anitabirt.com
Friday, June 21, 2013
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Anita Birt's Note Book
It's the deer problem. It's a problem without an easy solution. Victoria and surrounding cities, like Oak Bay, are over run with deer destroying gardens, leaving behind their pee and poop. It's so bad parents of young children cannot let them play in their own back yard or front garden.
So fence your property, say the bleeding hearts. "The deer were here before us. Learn how to deal with them."
Farmers on Vancouver Island lose millions a year from marauding deer. Fence your fields cry the bleeding hearts. The cost of fencing in large acreage is out of the question. Millions of dollars.
Cull the deer. Bleeding hearts suggest capturing the does and sterilizing them. At what cost?
Hire hunters to kill the deer seems to be the only option. Hire sharp shooters to make sure the deer are killed quickly.
Oh dear, We suffered from a plague of rabbits on the grounds of the university not so long ago. The bleeding hearts were out in full cry. Can't kill them. Capture them and send to safe places in the country where a foolish woman promised to fence them in and care for them.
Within months she ran out of money. Rounded them up and sent them to a safe place in the States.
Any brilliant ideas on how to get rid of deer running wild in our cities?
FATHER'S DAY to-day. My father passed away in 1948 when I lived in Wales. I was devastated. I'd last seen him in August 1944 when he and my mother waved me off on the train at Union Stations in Toronto. I was on my way to Halifax and then overseas to Britain.
Rest well, Pop. You were a good man.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
So fence your property, say the bleeding hearts. "The deer were here before us. Learn how to deal with them."
Farmers on Vancouver Island lose millions a year from marauding deer. Fence your fields cry the bleeding hearts. The cost of fencing in large acreage is out of the question. Millions of dollars.
Cull the deer. Bleeding hearts suggest capturing the does and sterilizing them. At what cost?
Hire hunters to kill the deer seems to be the only option. Hire sharp shooters to make sure the deer are killed quickly.
Oh dear, We suffered from a plague of rabbits on the grounds of the university not so long ago. The bleeding hearts were out in full cry. Can't kill them. Capture them and send to safe places in the country where a foolish woman promised to fence them in and care for them.
Within months she ran out of money. Rounded them up and sent them to a safe place in the States.
Any brilliant ideas on how to get rid of deer running wild in our cities?
FATHER'S DAY to-day. My father passed away in 1948 when I lived in Wales. I was devastated. I'd last seen him in August 1944 when he and my mother waved me off on the train at Union Stations in Toronto. I was on my way to Halifax and then overseas to Britain.
Rest well, Pop. You were a good man.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Anita Birt's Note book and other stuff
My mystery novel is progressing. I've never written a mystery and keeping the story alive and interesting means keeping the characters interesting. It also means keeping the story on the move, going from one incident to the next and tying them together.
The thing is, tying them together is not as simple as it seems. Lots of threads to weave into a pattern that holds together. But threads have a nasty habit of shaking loose, especially when a new development comes into play and the threads want to take part.
Because it's not bloody and murderous and characters are civil in their dealings, except when one of them runs amok, tries to hold one of my protagonists hostage. She saves herself by whacking him over the head with a paperweight. I may have told you this in an earlier post. Senior moments come and go.
All is well in this part of the world. No floods. No tornadoes. No hurricanes. No bush fires. Living by the sea has its advantages. We have unpredictable weather. Warm and sunny in the morning. A wind picks up in the late afternoon. It gets chilly.
As for getting old. I touched on that some time ago. Seems being an aged person is nothing these days. A friend turned one hundred a couple of months ago. Big party. Family visiting from all parts of Canada. And now. She carries on as if being one hundred is no big deal. She is in pretty good health and eats well. What more could one ask?
Another issue that bugs some of us. We old folks are costing the health system a lot of money. At the end of our lives we are a drag on society. So what are we to do? Leap into the cold water I see from my window! Leap out the window! Slash wrists with dull blades. Deliberately fall down stairs.
Gruesome thoughts. Forget I wrote them. I figure as long as I'm paying my fair share of taxes, I'm not bleeding the system, so to speak.
Happy Father's Day all you fathers and grandfathers and granduncles. You are fabulous. I send a happy hug. Buy Dad one of my romance novel. He'll enjoy, A VERY DIFFICULT MAN.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
The thing is, tying them together is not as simple as it seems. Lots of threads to weave into a pattern that holds together. But threads have a nasty habit of shaking loose, especially when a new development comes into play and the threads want to take part.
Because it's not bloody and murderous and characters are civil in their dealings, except when one of them runs amok, tries to hold one of my protagonists hostage. She saves herself by whacking him over the head with a paperweight. I may have told you this in an earlier post. Senior moments come and go.
All is well in this part of the world. No floods. No tornadoes. No hurricanes. No bush fires. Living by the sea has its advantages. We have unpredictable weather. Warm and sunny in the morning. A wind picks up in the late afternoon. It gets chilly.
As for getting old. I touched on that some time ago. Seems being an aged person is nothing these days. A friend turned one hundred a couple of months ago. Big party. Family visiting from all parts of Canada. And now. She carries on as if being one hundred is no big deal. She is in pretty good health and eats well. What more could one ask?
Another issue that bugs some of us. We old folks are costing the health system a lot of money. At the end of our lives we are a drag on society. So what are we to do? Leap into the cold water I see from my window! Leap out the window! Slash wrists with dull blades. Deliberately fall down stairs.
Gruesome thoughts. Forget I wrote them. I figure as long as I'm paying my fair share of taxes, I'm not bleeding the system, so to speak.
Happy Father's Day all you fathers and grandfathers and granduncles. You are fabulous. I send a happy hug. Buy Dad one of my romance novel. He'll enjoy, A VERY DIFFICULT MAN.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Anita Birt's Note Book and other stuff
Think of it as a senior moment. My mystery novel requires 100,000 more words to go to market. My senior moment had 65,000 words fixed in my mind. Not enough! So I am doing what novelists do, I am going over my work and adding/padding (?) words.
I shall not mention names but the author of the book I'm reading now tells the same story, slightly different versions, three times already and I'm only half way through.
There is hope for me. In the meantime my brain gets a work out and I enjoy writing my story. I can't say too much about the protagonists because one of them is an unusual character about whom I really enjoy writing.
I am very bad at sending material to my web mistress to jazz up my web site. I hope she has time to work on it.We shall see.
About this blog. I am torn between leaving it as it is or signing up for one of those places who'd give it more viewers. But!! My blog is not exactly earth shaking unless I carry on discussing aging and how to live longer and happier.
As I think back on myself as a child, my basic personality hasn't changed that much. I'm still as curious as ever. I still enjoy listening and conversing. I love being outdoors. Loved it as a child and have many happy memories doing things like . . . after a heavy rain storm sending little sticks down the flooded gutters. Going bare foot most of the summer. Making mud pies. A girl thing. Adventuring in and around the neighbourhood. Sleigh riding on the hills out of town. Yes, my brother, Harry and I walked the mile to the hills after school on wintry days.
One memorable day we hadn't told our mother we were going. She was frantically calling for us when we turned up. My goodness was she mad. We both got a licking and sent to bed without supper but our grandmother intervened and cut up pieces of bread, soaked them in hot milk and sprinkled generously with brown sugar over the top. You have to be eight and six years old to truly appreciate the treat.
Do continue buying my romance novels. Enjoy a good read on your e-book or buy three of them in trade paperback. A VERY DIFFICULT MAN. RING AROUND THE MOON. TOO YOUNG TO DIE.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
I shall not mention names but the author of the book I'm reading now tells the same story, slightly different versions, three times already and I'm only half way through.
There is hope for me. In the meantime my brain gets a work out and I enjoy writing my story. I can't say too much about the protagonists because one of them is an unusual character about whom I really enjoy writing.
I am very bad at sending material to my web mistress to jazz up my web site. I hope she has time to work on it.We shall see.
About this blog. I am torn between leaving it as it is or signing up for one of those places who'd give it more viewers. But!! My blog is not exactly earth shaking unless I carry on discussing aging and how to live longer and happier.
As I think back on myself as a child, my basic personality hasn't changed that much. I'm still as curious as ever. I still enjoy listening and conversing. I love being outdoors. Loved it as a child and have many happy memories doing things like . . . after a heavy rain storm sending little sticks down the flooded gutters. Going bare foot most of the summer. Making mud pies. A girl thing. Adventuring in and around the neighbourhood. Sleigh riding on the hills out of town. Yes, my brother, Harry and I walked the mile to the hills after school on wintry days.
One memorable day we hadn't told our mother we were going. She was frantically calling for us when we turned up. My goodness was she mad. We both got a licking and sent to bed without supper but our grandmother intervened and cut up pieces of bread, soaked them in hot milk and sprinkled generously with brown sugar over the top. You have to be eight and six years old to truly appreciate the treat.
Do continue buying my romance novels. Enjoy a good read on your e-book or buy three of them in trade paperback. A VERY DIFFICULT MAN. RING AROUND THE MOON. TOO YOUNG TO DIE.
Anita
www.anitabirt.com
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