Chess Anyone?

“Nanny”  said my 6 year old grandson Ethan, “Can we have a game of Chess?”

I’m always up for a Chess game.  Dad started to teach me Chess when I was about 5 or 6, and I still use the same board and pieces that we used back in the 1960s and early 1970s. Dad never let me win, although I suffered (and so did he I expect) many meltdowns as a result.  Mum would implore him to let me win, but he always stood firm and replied that letting me win would do me no good at all.   Okay I never beat Dad, but when I was 12 I did beat my uncle.  I felt like dancing around the room, and so did Dad!

I taught my two boys to play, which helped Leon no end with his concentration.  I never let them win either, and by the time they were teenagers they took great delight in beating me fair and square at the odd game or five.

Marc has now started to teach Ethan.  So on Sunday when they came to lunch Ethan and I sat down at the Chessboard and started to play.  My daughter-in-law hovered by my right shoulder, expecting me to let Ethan win.  However, I had no intention of doing so, as I realised my dad had been right.  Letting Ethan win would do him no good at all.

The meltdown came when he was left with three pawns and a king.  He stomped off and announced he was not going to play anymore.  Memories came flooding back of myself doing exactly the same thing and Dad quietly packing up the Chess pieces and putting them back in the box.

I picked up the Chess pieces and put them back in the box.   What goes around comes around!

Would you let your six year old win, or do you think that letting them win would do them no good at all?

 

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The Bloggers Bash Blog Competition Entry

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#bloggersbash

Here is my entry below for the Bloggers Bash Blog Competition, which you can read about here.

Five Felix Street, by Stevie Turner (copyright Stevie Turner 2019)

The door was olive green, and the brass knocker and doorstep always shone. My grandparents had brought up three children whilst living in 3 small rooms at 5, Felix Street, Bethnal Green, London East 2.

All the houses in Felix Street would eventually fall to the ‘new broom’ of slum clearance sweeping through the East End in the late 1960s, but to my 8-year-old self the house had warmth and character.

On the top floor of number 5 lived Nan and Grandad in their tiny flat. Downstairs on the first floor was Nan’s sister Lou and her husband, and another sister, Mary, and her husband lived on the ground floor. The sisters and their husbands, now minus their grown offspring, all shared an outside lavatory and wash house in the small back yard.

The front door was always open. The ground floor hallway, dark and odoriferous with cabbage, still had its Victorian gas mantles. I would hurry along past Mary’s three rooms and the yard to the stairs going up to Nan and Grandad’s flat. None of the three flats had any front doors, and the sisters walked in and out of each other’s rooms just as they pleased.

Next door at number 6 lived the sisters’ cousins. Nan could lean out of her kitchen window and carry on a conversation with Cousin Pam opposite. They shared a washing line strung between the two houses, and I soon learned to peg out each item of clothing and pull the line along on its runner. More sisters lived within a stone’s throw of number 5.

When it rained, the roof leaked. However, Nan took it all in her stride and placed saucepans in appropriate positions. She had her family around her, and that’s all she needed.

One by one the husbands died, and then the sisters. The cousins were re-housed, and Nan was the only one left at number 5. She was eventually given a brand new place with an inside lavatory and all mod-cons. Ensconced in her newly decorated flat, she sat on the settee and cried as though her heart would break.

 

 

Would you Like to Contribute to my Anthology?

Thanks to a little nudge from Clive at Take it Easy, I’m sending out another call for collaborators to my ‘Understanding’ anthology, which has been a work in progress for a couple of years.

I’m looking for volunteers interested in answering 20 of my questions on any life experience they have undergone.  Clive was kind enough to answer 20 questions on depression, which you can find here.  I also have completed interviews on alcoholism, teenage pregnancy, caffeine addiction, sexual abuse, and chronic pain.  You can find all the interviews so far in the ‘Understanding‘ category on my website https://www.stevie-turner-author.co.uk/

If you have experienced a significant life event and would like to answer 20 questions for my anthology, please leave a comment and I’ll get back to you.  Amongst others, I’d be interested in people who have undergone:

A near death experience

A paranormal experience

Significant weight loss

Quitting smoking

I plan to set the book up free on Draft2Digital when I have enough collaborators.  Hopefully the experiences can help other people.

Street Teams Revisited

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street team

While chatting to D.G Kaye regarding street teams, I mentioned to her that street teams don’t usually work because nobody (apart from family) in their right mind would want to promote our books day in and day out if there was nothing in it for them.  She agreed, but this got me thinking.  What if there was something in it for everyone who promoted our books?

With this in mind I have a fledgling idea, but wonder how many other authors would want to take part in a new Facebook street team group?  I say authors instead of readers, because it’s usually authors who read my blogs.  Here’s the new FB link:

https://www.facebook.com/groups/StreetsAheadTeam/

Depending on the number involved, each author would get a day’s promotion by the other authors who have joined up ( but no reviews, because this contravenes Amazon’s review policy).  Each member of the street team would promote the book and purchase links of whichever author’s turn it is on one of their social media sites.  They could promote on their website or blog, their Twitter and Facebook pages, Pinterest, LinkedIn or Instagram for instance.  It would probably help if different social media sites were used every time, to avoid spamming.  Authors would need to leave links in the Facebook comments as to where they’ve promoted the book.

As you can see by the link, I have now created a Facebook group for this, and would have specific days for promoting, so that authors don’t have to do this every day, just maybe three times a week.  Therefore 3 authors in the group would get their books promoted every week.  To make it fair I’d start off in alphabetical order.  Anybody who does not promote misses out on their turn until the next time their name comes around.

What do you think?  Is it a goer or a no-brainer?  Do you think it’s likely to fizzle out within a short time, or could those interested commit to promoting three times a week?

Street Teams?

I was very interested to read Anne R. Allen’s blog entitled ‘Should Writers Worry if They Don’t Have Superfans?

Like Anne, I don’t think these ‘street teams’ are all they are cracked up to be.  I once was invited to join a street team, which was the main reason why I signed up with my then publisher.  However, the ‘street team’ consisted of authors constantly spamming their own books.  I became disillusioned very quickly and left, realising that nobody was going to help promote my books but me!

Street teams, if in fact there are any genuine ones, need to consist of readers not authors, as quite rightly, authors are more interested in getting their own books sold.  Fair enough, and probably any authors in the street team are too busy writing and editing and are not going to be particularly bothered about buying and reading somebody else’s book.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s great to network with other authors and learn from their experiences and mistakes.  I’ve made many cyber friends via blogging and even bought some of their books, but all of them are authors.  I’d love to know whether there’s an online group which consists of only readers.  Is there such a group?  Ha ha…

I’ve become very disillusioned with the whole marketing experience actually.  It’s got to the point where I hardly do any writing anymore, as I’ve been too busy thinking up schemes to sell the books I’ve already written.  In fact I’m not sure that any of my social media sites or strategies help to sell books –  I think it all comes down to a case of readers tapping in keywords on Amazon and seeing what comes up and catches their eye.  I did change a few of my keywords, and surprise surprise, my book sales have started to pick up over the last two weeks.  I also did a free 5 day promotion of ‘A House Without Windows’ on KDP which had about 900 downloads, and so perhaps the increased sales have something to do with that?

In a nutshell, I think keywords, free 5-day promotions and book reviews are the way forward, not street teams, Facebook, Twitter, or email lists (when I check my Mailchimp campaign figures, less than half of subscribers actually open my emails in the first place!)

As for reviewers, unfortunately most book reviewers are swamped, and so it’s a case of hoping that anybody who buys my book in the first place might leave a favourable review.  From my free promotion I gained a couple of 5 star reviews by the way, whoop whoop!

So I shall be concentrating more on my WordPress blog to gain more followers, and shall cut back time spent on  Facebook.  There’s only so many hours in a day, and I don’t want to fritter them all away.

Do you think that street teams help to sell books? Do you belong to one?

 

 

 

 

 

On the Wight Track

On Sunday Sam drove the 200 miles back to Suffolk to go back to work, in-between moving furniture out to the garage, painting all the doorframes, and overseeing the plasterers’ work as they tackle our kitchen and dining room.  As I react very badly to gloss paint, I’m here at the van and enjoying every minute!  Fortunately the weather on the Island is amazing for February.  It was 18 degrees Centigrade yesterday, and the same is forecast today.

This morning I cycled up to the shop to get a newspaper.  This is no mean feat, as it’s all uphill.  I’m hoping my quads will improve while I’m here, as I’d love to cycle up hills without having to stop and wheeze like an old steam train.  After that I walked for an hour’s round trip down to Seagrove Bay (didn’t even attempt to cycle on this path, but  hope I can do it later in the year).  There are no hills in Suffolk, and so the old legs are just not used to them.

Most of the vans are empty, and it’s lovely and quiet here as the site hasn’t been open very long for the 2019 season.  I know I should sit at the computer and add a bit more to my latest manuscript, but it’s too tempting to veg out on the decking with a cup of tea and the newspaper that I nearly broke my quads for.

I’m here until Sunday; no work, and doing exactly what I like.  I have no car, but there’s a bus stop outside on the main road if I feel inclined.  I might take the bus into Ryde or I might not.  I might work on my latest novel, or I might not.  The Island has a soporific effect on me.  Life slows down and lots of sitting on the decking doing nothing has to be done.

I sent Sam a photo of the sun shining down on Seagrove Bay this morning (I don’t know how to get it off my phone otherwise I’d put it on here). Sam sent me a photo of a paint pot and a brush sitting on an old sheet on our dining room table.  Poor sod…

 

 

 

#99 Word Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community

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99 Word Challenge, Carrot Ranch Literary Community, Valentine's Day

 

 

February 14, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about valentines. It can be Valentine’s Day, the exchange, love for another, romance, or friendship. Have a heart and go where the prompt leads!

Here’s my effort below, entitled ’12 Red Roses’.  Last week Sam actually did fly to Perth on Monday and then returned on Thursday….

“See ya …

I’m off to Australia.”

On Monday he flew

From Heathrow, terminal two.

I wondered whether he may

Forget about Valentine’s Day.

In the world of business,

There’s no time for flowers or kisses.

On Thursday, my man

Carried a bouquet in his hand.

Twelve roses there were

As he stood at the door.

He looked rather seedy behind the flowers,

As he’d been on a plane for 17 hours.

Said he as he held out a card,

“This week I’ve worked hard,

But I knew if I’d forgotten these roses,

My balls you would have decompos’ed.”

Which one are you?

Today I learned a new word, which describes me very well.  I’m not an extrovert, partying and socialising at every opportunity, nor am I a total introvert, stuck in my room writing.  I’m an…

Ambivert.

Yeah, definitely.  Ambiverts have a balance of extrovert and introvert in their personality.  I go to work and talk and mingle with the other staff in the department, but then look forward to going home to check on my writerly world alone.  I like to attend parties once in a while, but tend to talk to one or two people rather than working the whole room.  I’m not the loudest one in the room, but I’m not totally silent either.

It’s lovely when the family visit; two sons, two daughters-in-law, and four grandchildren. Suddenly we’re the family from hell, with honking car horns, screaming kids and Leon’s foghorn gob.  However, Sam and I will sit down with a sigh and a cup of tea when they’ve all gone home and enjoy our quiet house again.

When I’ve spent all morning writing, it’s nice to go out for a walk and talk to the dog-walkers I see.  It’s always the same faces and dogs that I meet.  We’ll have a chat and talk about the weather, and then I’ll go back home and do some more writing.

Yep, I’m definitely an ambivert.  I’m also fairly ambidextrous, so I guess I’m just an ‘ambi’ kind of girl…

Are you extrovert, introvert or ambivert?

 

A Valentine’s Meal I’ll Never Forget

With the arrival of another Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I thought I’d write about a certain Valentine’s meal Sam and I had about 6 years’ ago.  Whenever I pass by Café Rouge in Bury St. Edmunds I am reminded of this eventful night.

We sat down and looked at the menus. Sam thought he’d order lobster soup, because he’d never eaten lobster before.  He had eaten prawns, crab and salmon before, but never lobster. The soup was served quite quickly, and Sam gulped it down because he hadn’t eaten much all day.

We sat and waited for our main course, but after about ten minutes Sam started talking gibberish.  To my horror his eyes then rolled up into his head and he slid down the chair and onto the floor in a faint.  Staff gathered around him as I phoned for an ambulance. The conversation then went something like this:

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes.”

“The ambulance will be there within about half an hour.  We are rather busy tonight.”

Meanwhile Sam woke up disorientated and announced he felt sick.  Staff helped him to the men’s toilet where he threw up the lobster soup.  He emerged pale, but announced he was feeling a lot better.  There was still no sign of an ambulance, so I drove Sam in his car to the A&E Department of our local hospital.  He was checked over and given the all clear.

I asked for a list of the soup’s ingredients, and he was sent to Addenbrooke’s Hospital for allergy testing.  No allergy was ever found.  The soup contained water, cream, prawns, butter, brandy, tomato paste, champagne, lobster stock, mussel powder, white wine, paprika, turmeric, rosemary, carrot, celery, onion, leek, yeast extract, cornflour, salt, whey powder, mustard, fish bouillon, pepper, mace, coriander, nutmeg, clove, pimento, tarragon, sugar, sunflower oil, salt and pepper.

We’ve never been back to Café Rouge since, and Sam has never eaten shellfish since that day!

 

The Big Stink Revisited

I like to watch TV programmes where I learn something, and on Sunday night I watched a very interesting programme.  The subject matter is something that we don’t really want to think about, but after watching the Thames Tideway programme, now I can’t stop thinking about it…

In the late 1800s, Mr Bazalgette designed miles of brick-built sewers, all laid by hand, to run under London to cure it of the ‘Big Stink’ problem that was causing MPs of the day to hold their noses in the Houses of Parliament.  These Victorian tunnels are now struggling to cope with the effluent from an extra 7 million people, causing much untreated waste to be poured into the Thames via many sewer overflows (about 39 tonnes of it each year!), some of the waste it appears that walkers/ dog-walkers are treading in when the tide is out.  Huge fatbergs are clogging up the sewers, along with non-biodegradable wet wipes and other things I don’t want to dwell too long upon.  In effect, Londoners are now in danger of reproducing the ‘Big Stink’ problem that was so prevalent in the 1850s.

Thames Tideway has come to the rescue with a giant 25km tunnel running underneath even the underground tube tunnels, which will take up the waste from 34 of the most polluting overflow pipes and stop it pouring into the river.  Work started in 2014 and will not be finished until 2023.  On the programme we saw piledriving machines at work to build the deep shaft where the tunnelling machine will be lowered down into.  It was all fascinating stuff, this heavy industry.  Once the cutting machine started to dig out the London clay, it hit more solid limestone, causing hundreds of thousands of pounds to be paid out even at the start,  to keep on replacing worn out cutting teeth.

I felt sorry for the lady living nearby in her dream flat, which had turned into a nightmare due to the noise of the piledrivers.  Thames Tideway had even paid for her to have holidays to get away from the noise and had also paid for triple glazing her windows, but she was so stressed by the constant noise that eventually she moved out.

This new tunnel is set to last about 120 years.  But will Londoners be more careful about  what they flush down their sinks and toilets?  The answer to that is probably no, because I suspect the majority will not think about the cumulative effect of years of hot fat and wet wipes etc on sewer pipes.  It’s up to the manufacturers of wet wipes to design a biodegradable version, and for recycling centres to allow the public and restaurateurs to dispose of cooking fat properly instead of pouring it down the sink.

One day in the not-to-distant future, people might be able to swim in the  Thames without getting ill with gastrointestinal problems caused by the ever-present effluent’s bacteria, or getting hit by a floating fatberg!