I have been so very busy over the last six months researching for my next book. Truth be told, I have two books on the go simultaneously – Book two in my Dragons dwelt here series, historical novels for ten and up readership. (The first in the series, Thunderbird set in pre-European American Continent, is, at long last, is out on Amazon. A synopsis and a chapter can be read on antoinettejames.com.
Book two in the series is coming along albeit slowly, hampered by the need for more research. But I have to admit, it has been demoted because I find myself neurotically spending twelve hours plus a day researching for my nonfiction. This compulsion has taken me down and down and down some amazing, some worrying and some alarming rabbit holes.
And so, I found myself woken this morning at 6:00 by my husband holding my customary cup of tea. I sat up feeling totally burdened…I realised, all too late, that I should have taken the blue pill!
After I drank my tea, pondering and throwing out a couple of queries to my husband, I found myself snuggling back into the sheets. At 9:00 another cup graciously arrived accompanied by the question “Are you getting up this morning?”
My delayed, bemoaned answer, “I need defragging!”
I lay there for another 30 mins finding my core and inner purpose for the day. I wasn’t scared of it or depressed about it, I just needed…defragging; you know, those concatenating parts stored in separate locations on my mental disk, desperately screaming for order.
In reaction, I escaped, like Max, spending a precious 30 mins adrift.
In my mind I was back on the hired narrow boat.
Last month, my husband and I, our two boys and my ninety-two-year-old Dad and eighty-seven-year-old Mum who had flown over from New Zealand, untied ourselves from the Chirk Marina and spent seven nights adrift…quiet, scenic, resplendent.
After a wonderful thirty minutes reliving the week, I was stirred by my son peeping at me from around the bedroom door, bemused by my still horizontal repose. We both burst into laughter; nothing needed to be said.
I got up and turned my time to neglected business – my blog; this week a confession of sorts.
Dear reader, thanks for your ear. I have used you as a sounding board, for this cathartic ramble.
Before I get another cup of tea and read over the final draft of my latest book 101 Reasons to Home Educate in the 21st Century, (to be released on Amazon in the New Year), I would like to give a shout out to Sliehele Butler (I think I have spelt that correctly).
The place mats we enjoyed while adrift through Shropshire and Powys are prints of her work. Having some artwork on board a generic, though lovely well-planned interior, did my soul the world of good.
I bought a couple of coasters with Butler’s art on, for my Mum and Dad to slip into their brimming suitcases as we drove them to Heathrow.
I have googled Sliehele Butler in hope of seeing more works, but nothing came up.
Another artist I need help finding. If you know where she is, please let me know,