dear sir or madam, won't you read my book...

At last, 'My Spinning Jupiter' is on sale.
I'm sorry I took so long to write about it but life suddenly became like a dodgem car ride....I love writing but know little about the publishing world. I loved the editing, but found myself running into endless standstills as I tried to understand the literary galaxy.
People have been so kind about my first intrepid venture, loved my me, but leaving me with new doubts, hopes and fears.
It is currently available on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/My-Spinning-Jupiter-Life-under/dp/1456595075/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1305589731&
and apparently soon hitting Kindle, major bookshops, schools and libraries.
I've been challenged not to embrace the timidity that stalks every introvert, so I'm trying hard to shine, smile and be brave. I even wrote my own review on Goodreads (maybe you're not meant to do that :)
I've mentioned this in previous posts, but after many years of trying to find a shelf to sit on, the big push was Nanowrimo. Resolving to complete an unedited, new work over 50,000 words within 30 days pushed me to actually complete something...then I was a winner, and offered so many options my own little head was spinning.
A previous Nano winner  'Water for Elephants' has made a mighty splash into the big book jungle, so I'm hoping that my effort may follow.
'My Spinning Jupiter' is targeted at 10-15 year old girls, as a comical intro into the uninvited world of puberty, but seems to be enjoyed as much by adults who have memories of those confusing days, or are currently bemused and befuddled by their own pubescent offspring.
The main characters are Ashlin; the all suffering wannabe entomologist who is shattered by the permanence of a fixed gender, and her twin Ava who is loving the girl up phase. Their stirring 17 year old brother, who loves to soften the sharp turns, and add a bit of humour. Their Grandmother and 97 year old Great Grandmother move in to help the girls with this magnificent transition, and give history lessons on tampons. And small but significant, Mr Hokey, Ashlin's pet mouse spider, who was also hoping not to have to do the girl thing., and the monarch butterfly who encourages Ashlin to take the leap from childhood to the grandiose world of Jupiter.
I hope you consider having a glance, and maybe buying a copy :)

Jupiter and Jill are alright tonight.

  Yesterday morning I received notification from the publishers. At last they are happy with all the cover details, sizing, bleeding etc and have posted proof copies to me.
Excited was not the word, I was stunned. I'd hit a point where I thought I'd be re-editing forever.
But my little books are up in a plane heading for home.
Okay this is not world history, many books have been written and published but I have waded through the longing for ten years, and it's history for me.
Added to this was the news that Jupiter was having a fresh week where she was about to be visible to the naked eye for a few nights. So back and forth we went checking for the designated spot above the crescent moon.
I saw something orange, but as none of us are familiar with star gazing, it was uncertain that we had seen her.
As my husband said, if I hadn't seen Jupiter, Jupiter must have seen me.
This morning I  checked the planet news again and discovered that the orange thing I saw at 1 O'Clock above the crescent moon was indeed Jupiter.

Time for a Happy Dance...
                                    

star gazing and imploding dreams

      The final touches are falling into place for my first fiction publication, after ten years of studying, dreaming, and chasing the stars. Somehow, the galaxies have decided to dance to my song.

'      My Spinning Jupiter' is about a thirteen year old girl who doesn't want to grow up. She didn't want to stay female but it all landed on her without consent. How can you spend your years trekking the  darkest parts of Africa and the Amazon for new spiders and butterflies, if your body is dissolving into a Chemist's bank account?
       Her comfort comes from a Monarch butterfly, a Mouse Spider, and an astronomer.
Jupiter is her solace of identity with bold orange presence, volcanoes, the big red spot, and a special place in history.
       So, the book should be available in a few days or weeks.

In three days, Jupiter will become visible to the naked eye around Australia, accompanied by a crescent moon.
No telescope or binoculars needed, just the ability to stand still, focussed and forget to measure the distance.
And be careful not to stumble on the stones while you're staring at the handiwork.
                                               

the perfect website

   My beautiful Golden Orb who has protected and fed from my pear tree grubs for months seemed to be in trouble. Over the last week, I'd noticed her web was damaged each morning. 
I had dreadful images of gluttonous mynah birds swooping and gulping my friend. This seemed inappropriate in a season, when locusts are in such plague proportions that windscreens are being smothered. Drivers are having to pull off the road to remove the happy campers.
So why should these birds target my sentinel. Let them have locusts for their breakfast.
However, his perfect sturdy web reappeared each evening.

I was explaining my concern to my husband.
He saw things differently.
Each morning he would be finding the path to his car, and walk straight into the web.
He didn't mean it.
He just forgot that our spider would keep rebuilding, and so skillfully.
What a patient spider she is, and the pear tree's health is safe.
                                                    

Perfect advice = perfect results...6

You don’t need to turn on the TV

 for gossip, gobbling and grandiose gibberish. 

You only need to walk out the door to hear the chatter of the bitter and negative. 

If words could just fall to the ground and mulch up to benefit growth, it would be a calmer world. Caustic words burn, cutting conversation take root in our head-space, dulling dreams, and splitting our resolve, and we wither.

So we find ourselves in the company of some angry, some perplexed, some hurting people who throw their weathered mind space over ours, like foam extinguishing the flames of our hopes and dreams.

Where's the breath to reignite the embers?

Do we have choice to fly higher than the ground zero bleeding?

Would that choice to listen to hope that empowers and colours our peace meet us at each turn we face?

Sure. There is reason for hope in promises; hope that offsets regret.  I will live without regret, and find the power that flies in promise.                          

the Wandering Millionaire.. 5

Any moment you can wake up in prison or prosperity, in a dream or on steady ground.  You me and the Lord of Commons have some structures set in place, and others we choose.
Do you want to be famous? You can sacrifice everything that may seem valuable and find your most potent gift, chase it to the cliff and jump. Or, lay down your life, pour it into your children

to grow a new generation of balanced beautiful people.
What matters? Conversation, connecting values or evading the voice within for the sake of a possible profile that live up a mountain, alone.
Is there a compass that spins your heart toward popularity, power, or people?
How cool to have such sensitive awareness to the plan that would benefit both yourself and the world about you.
Music, pastels, guidance, solicitude, and a sunny countenance are beautiful gifts in a world that seems to be all about running solo.
It starts in the centre, the midlands, the place within your most hidden and honest room.
I love birdcalls, leaf-fall, owls, bears, lions, spiders, peacocks and hippopotami, and my dog.
I can clothe myself in the mountains, untangle in the ocean. I may have more deeper, richer friends than any Politician, and still miss the target.
Clarity.
The shine that allows us to hear our own beat, touch the pulse that will lead us home, and settle us in a moment where we wont need friends, fun, voice or the pinnacle.
It's so close to our peace, choose not to miss it.

Clear but not always bright...4

" When you set out on a journey and night covers the road, you don't conclude the road has vanished. And how else could we discover the stars? "
There is a path set for us but it's not always visible, obvious or cozy. Paradoxes and loss of clarity trickle restlessness into our heart and veils our vision. The possibility of having lost the road leaves us with the threat of being stranded, without signs or a navigator.
But each of us do have our own path, and it remains beautiful in fine and inclement weather, if we have owned the path, if we have listened not only with our eyes but also with our feet. Feel the pebbles, recognize the trail and keep the directions close to your heart.As you walk, tread with beautiful feet, that speak that sing to those who follow.
There is nobody who will be forgotten, only those who choose to forget.
It's okay to rest at the roadside when weary. It's brilliant to stop on the bridges and listen to the babbling creeks and rivers. Even better, take a break and play Pooh-sticks for a while, tease the time.
Unwise words, feeble trust and deliberate turns off the road turn the bright into blight, and the quester into a question.
Leave your curiosity in your pocket for the day when a new path is offered, until then trust the breath that brought the darkness and remember the reason you asked for directions.                                                                    

building fences with no offence 3

Every time I speak to connect, to unveil, to exchange my moments with those of another's, I run the risk of bringing pain, revealing other wounds that had been guarded. As much as it would be great to assume that I could be all harmonious and helpful, I can't. Even with those close to me, I never really understand the reasons for their heart sounds.
I will hurt people.
All the time, with no intention. Maybe a memory wanted to stay buckled down in a dark room, and a simple comment of mine pressed the sensor.
But I can desire to be somebody who doesn't harm. I can try to settle and soothe the damage I have caused,
if I have other eyes that see the pain, ears that hear the crying voices before I reject and run.
If I sit close enough to a heart that feels and remembers the past of all I reach out to.  If I remember to listen before I interrupt.        

Storytelling that feeds the heart. 2

All day we listen to others tell the plans, griefs, and happiness of their day. Unless you disappear to a place where you are alone, you will hear the reflections of somebody's day. And even in that quiet place, you may not hear another's tale but you will still be the audience to your own dreams, fears, frustrations and disappointments.

Some days it just doesn't seem as if you are capable of anything useful; and others will underline this, pushing your hopes away from the stepping stones you were looking for.
But there is a way to find yourself reflected as a beautiful contribution to the planet.
There is a safe place at the knee of a storyteller who will do you no harm, and bring you back to your feet.
There is a hearth that gives warmth, change and healing.
The only requirement is that you seek out the storyteller, and sit still long enough to listen.

Rules of the road, 1

   Most people will arrive a place on their path, where there are no obvious directions. Once you've outgrown the need for parents, the only restraints are rules that you choose. The local and federal rules give advice, but they don't spend each day reminding you to pick up socks and do the dishes. 
You decide whether you want to follow fashion, peers, and trends. You can choose to be an eternal luddite. Nobody can judge you on that.
Your heart spills dreams over your daily needs, but who can determine what really fills the happy factor?
Is it the option of pursuing blamelessness? 
Are you safer yielding to advice that doesn't appeal to you?
Is there a place where rules and relationship merge, and therefore build a home for the heart?