A Phone Moan Poem

Ironic, I suppose, to share this on a blog (although I am writing at a computer) - fully aware, that most people reading this will be reading it from their phones!

I'm of a generation where making plans involved thinking days, even weeks in advance. Deciding on a time and location and sticking to it. Changes involved picking up a phone and hoping someone was in, and within earshot of the phone (on its special table in the hall, or screwed to a wall in the kitchen). Most of the time plans only changed because they had to, it was too much of a faff to be fickle.

We were unavailable. 

We had to be patient. 

The lack of immediacy in communication was in no way seen as a sign of rejection or a cause for argument.

Life went on.

It was fine.

If I wasn't self-employed, truth be told, I probably wouldn't bother with a smartphone.

My mobile really isn't a good way to contact me.

I don't do phones.

Most of the working week it's on silent as I'm in meetings, with a client, or don't want to be disturbed because I'm catching up between clients and meetings! And at weekends, it's not unusual for me to simply forget to switch it on.

I realise this confession makes me a freak of nature in this day and age!

I'd like to point out that I'm not in my 70's (half that age, actually, give or take).


I don't do phones, and here's a poem about it...

I Don't Do Phones

I don't do phones.

Halfway through speaking,

their phone begins beeping,

"I really must take this,"

I sit silently, and take it.

I don't do phones. 

When someone decided

attention, divided;

is somehow connecting,

yet it feels like rejection.

I don't do phones. 

There's an App for this,

there's an App for that

you can't make an App for happiness.

I don't do phones. 

...I am being mildly facetious, of course, but still, there is an important message here. 

Look up from your phone occasionally. 

Life is better experienced through your senses than a screen. 

(EPIC FAIL. Amazing view and you take a Selfie!)

 

Live it, and live it with the people you are with in that moment!

(EPIC FAIL. With company and you're both looking at your phone!)

Share my poem, let's spread the word!

(I don't do phones - a poem by Amy C Fitzjohn)

A bit of fun...First Line Poems

I'm working on the first draft of the third book in the Sheridan and Blake Adventure series at the moment, Gabriel's Game.



In a fleeting moment of creative randomness, I wondered what would happen if I took the first line from every chapter of the first draft and put them together. I've switched the order around so it makes some sort of sense and here's the result - I call it, a First Line Poem:

Gabriel's Game a First Line Poem

 Tom leaned into the open passenger window of the blue London Cab, “Temple Meads please.”

Tom looked down the tunnel, hearing the familiar whistle and rattle as the train approached.

Tom blinked his eyes open, dreamscapes faded from memory and the comforts of sleep melted away.
Tom Sheridan pushed himself from the chair and shook his leaden limbs out, wrung his hands, rolled his shoulders and made for the window.

It had been a couple of weeks since Tom had been for a run.

Tom looked at the handset.

Harry hit pause on the TV and got up to answer the phone.

“Harry? May I call you Harry?” said Milton, a grin lubricating his face.

Milton Harkett looked up from his notes and offered a thin smile to the Agent he had summoned.

Milton said he was his best agent, Benedict Morris knew he was being flattered, but liked hearing it.

Benedict pulled up a chair alongside Angus and leaned his elbows on the table.

Benedict clutched the headset to his ears, listening hard for anything, any progress at all.

Sasha was swimming, at least, it was the best word she could come up with to describe the feeling.

Consciousness slowly returned in piercing waves.

“Sasha, come back to me,” whispered Tom.

‘My Tom’ – that’s what she’d said last night.

Tom had only told her what was necessary.

A rare insomnia had Sasha in its grip.

Sasha latched onto Tom’s arm for stability when he swiped the key card and jostled the door open.

“Nice place,” Tom followed Sasha into the apartment.

Tom’s socks muffled the sound of his footsteps as he padded across the lounge.
Tom ducked into the bedroom, a pink misty hue filtering through the French doors.

Tom set his glass of water down on the bedside table and moved around the bed.

Giraud la Riviere rose before the sun.

Giraud la Riviere tugged his cape around himself shielding his tired body from the autumn chill.

They’d tried two hotels already before stepping into the shiny air-conditioned lobby of this one.

“Aside from the obvious meteorological benefits, why Cyprus?” Tom assessed his white pieces on the chess board.

It was worth a try.

Tom pulled up to the high metal gate.

“Well, this is home,” Tom glanced back, smiling and held the door open.

Gabriel took the white cotton gloves from the desk drawer and slipped them on.

Kat leaned over the small heap of soft toys Elly insisted on sharing her bed with and pressed a lingering kiss onto her sleeping head.

“Where do you keep your car?”

Benedict polished the lens of his binoculars with a cotton handkerchief.

Rehu adjusted the focus on the binoculars.

“So what happens now?”

Hamed Moktari supped at his glass of mint tea, just the right temperature, crisp and refreshing, the fragrance filling his nostrils.

Sasha stood on the patio waiting for him, a warm fluffy towel draped over her arm.

Sasha worked it through in her mind, slotting the pieces into place.

Weirdly, it does capture some of the essence of the overall story. 
Here's a little more about it:



Bristol, 1205: A Templar Knight returns from the crusades seeking forgiveness. He failed to retrieve a sacred manuscript from the Library of Constantinople.



The Present: Archaeologist, Dr Sasha Blake is being hunted by an unseen enemy. Her only chance is to locate an ancient manuscript and trade it for her life.



Tom Sheridan is at her side, but is he really being hunted or is he one of the hunters?



They are offered shelter and assistance by a wealthy businessman, Gabriel Fletcher.



Can Gabriel be trusted or is he playing games with her?



Here's a bit of fun: 

Grab a book, any book

• Jot down the first line of the first 10 chapters
• Now mix them up and see what First Line Poem you can put together
• Share the result here, I'd be fascinated to see what you've come up with

Super Exciting Announcement and Hanging Out at the Post Office

This week my seven actions for...
 

Operation Author: 365 Actions to Becoming  A Successful Author

...are all about Solomon's Secrets

It's here! It's landed and available now on Amazon.

Hoorah!

My first action was receiving a lovely big box of shiny new books in the post, ready to send out to everyone who pledged to the crowdfund.

My books! A beautiful thing...

My second action was to post an update on the Fundsurfer page telling everyone what to expect next:

https://www.fundsurfer.com/project/independently-publishing-solomons-secrets/update/and-were-done

 

The third action, following the announcement on the crowdfund page, was to start contacting all of my backers individually and finding out what they'd like me to write inside their books and where I should post them.

 
My fourth action was to get some thank you leaflets printed so that I could write a note to each of my backers to send out with their parcels.

I used Brunel One printers who's roof I can see from my back bedroom, they are that local!

I was really happy with the quick turnaround and good value for these leaflets and will definitely use them again.

Once I received responses from my backers, the next step was to pack the books up and take them to the post office.

Here's my first pile of books ready to post. 

I was queuing outside the local post office at 8:30am.


My fifth action has been to reduce the price of the Kindle version of my first book, The Bronze Box. 

It's now £1.99 on Amazon. Hopefully people who've been drawn to Solomon's Secrets will get the first book as well.

My last two actions are unrelated to the launch of Solomon's Secrets:

Firstly, my sixth action was to publish a really awesome guest blog by Anita MacCallum on personal branding.

Read it here:

http://ideaism.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/know-yourself-know-your-brand-who-is.html

Anita's creativity is infectious and her blog post gave me an idea - I've set up a 'vision board' on my Pinterest. I asked myself;

What's my 'brand' as an author? I write under different names so why not have another identity? How does Amy C Fitzjohn, Author present herself....? 

Here's what I've been pinning: http://www.pinterest.com/amymorse184/amy-c-fitzjohn-author-vision-board/ 

My seventh action is to report back on the Books are my Bag event hosted by Southville Writers and Bristol Women Writers at Foyles on Saturday.

The fact that between us we managed to collect lots of local writers in one place was in itself an achievement, organising writers is a bit like herding cats!

It was a really good event in the end with writers reading out their work in a series of categories, including; fiction, poetry, non-fiction and flash fiction.

Here is the table of books for all the writers involved:

Because I'm published by Amazon I was banned from selling my books at the event :( so my job was to be the MC - Here I am on the stage with a microphone, conducting proceedings:

Have you been to any good readers/writers events recently?