I can still feel the anxiety and dread in my stomach when I think about certain exams, and it’s been years since I had to take one!
I am certain that I am not the only one and I’d really love to change that for the next generation. I’m not here to argue about whether exams are a good way of evaluating skills, as the reality of exam style testing will be here to stay for a while.
What this little book aims to do is lighten the load for any test takers. To brighten their hearts and increase their self confidence. To assure them that someone sees them, someone cares and they are not alone.
The book is a card as well as a book, it can be written in to add in extra affirmations and it can be dedicated to your precious test taker.
The e-book version can also be projected on a screen or used with an interactive whiteboard in a class setting.
I have seen the power of affirmations to encourage self confidence in my own life, let’s give this gift to the next generation and see where believing in themselves from an early age can take them.
I suspect I am not the only one who barrages their friends with their latest 5 star read by saying “There’s this really great book…”
Dear friends, this book is for you. It is a silly, bright, rhyming tale about a penguin who likes to read everywhere. The penguin reads in the air, upside down, by the sea, and in various other places. This book celebrates the joy of reading, as well as introducing new readers into this fun new world.
I wrote it because I want to encourage children in their reading as much as possible, because it is such an important foundation for so much learning and joy. I hope you enjoy sharing it with your young readers.
As usual it is available on Kindle Unlimited, also as an e-book and paperback.
The e-book version should be able to be displayed on webwhiteboards, and I am investigating whether I can get it printed in a bigger size more suitable for classrooms.
Thank you for your support and feedback, it helps to make every book a little bit better than the last.
Story: When you make a connection with a girl at a party, but wake up to find that she didn’t write her number on your arm as you’d hoped. All you have left of her memory is a meaningless diagram drawn on your skin in permanent marker. Did she ghost you or does the drawing mean something more?
I’ve been thinking about that window for as long as I can remember. There is a blue wall against my back, an eggshell green wall to my right, and to my left is a mustardy wall with a door. But right across from me is a golden yellow wall, with a window.
At first all I did was glance at it now and again, playing with the small thought about how nice it would be to look out, or to even climb out, but those wonderings never remained. As the years go on, however, the more I find myself looking at it, admiring the colour and the peeling paint. I watch the panes, and the light reflecting through them. Every now and again I even catch myself staring.
I could move my position of course and look at the door, and some days I do. I know what is behind the door, but it breaks up the continuation of walls.
I begin to suspect that this window fascination is going to be a problem, when I begin reading books about windows, and all the beautiful things beyond. I read stories about people gathering up the courage to look out, and eat up everything they learned. I’m in awe of the people, and characters that open the windows and even climb out! Can you believe that?
It seems impossible for me. A nice dream to have. Special people, talented people look out windows. Brave people open them, and the truly heroic leap into the unknown. I was neither special, nor talented, brave, or heroic. It was nice to imagine, to lose myself in the fantasy of maybe.
I would never admit to anyone that I even think about looking out a window, or that I read about them. I’ve seen the looks that people give those people who swear they have seen the light, and cannot do anything but obsess about how to get out there. Every now and then one of them disappears and I wonder what really happened to them.
One day I was feeling a bit sick, or maybe a smidge abnormal, a tad reckless even, and I peeked up and looked out. Just like that. No thought about it or anything. I sat down underneath the sill in shock. What had possessed me to do that? I was overwhelmed with the light, movement and colour! I was very very clearly not cut out for looking out windows!
I put the idea out of my mind for a very long time. Then another day, I found one of those old stories, and I began to doubt my assertation. Perhaps my ego was out of balance that day, but I gripped the window ledge, took some deep breaths and tried again.
Oh it was amazing, and terrifying, exhilarating and overwhelming. My eyes were tired from the colours and movement, and my brain struggled to understand what I was seeing. Everything frightened me! Some days all I did was stare out the window and the things it showed, other days I couldn’t even bring myself to look at it, and this continued for days on end.
One thing was certain, I couldn’t go back. My eyes adjusted, my habits adjusted. And even if I didn’t look at it, or look out it’s panes, I thought about looking, and that was something. I was feeling entirely rebellious and reckless the day just before the new year, and I put my hand on the latch. Surely if other people had opened windows, I could too!?
I was practiced at looking out now, and I was sure I could work out how to open the mechanism. After all I had read books about it, and numerous explanations of how a window was to be opened, it was high time I tried. Who knew when I’d get a moment like this again? Surely I was wasting my life if I didn’t try?
Or was I? What if I tried and I couldn’t do it? What if someone wrote a book about how horrible I was at opening a window? What if I wasn’t strong enough? Was I really brave enough?
I wasn’t sure, so I lay back and stared at the ceiling instead. This continued for many weeks, many months and many years. Many doubts were discussed. Nothing was decided for sure. Should I? or should I not?Could I? Or could I not?
So one day, I tried.
It was hard to breathe but there it was. The window was sitting open, and I had opened it.
My heart was racing.
What could I do now?
Want to join in? The next prompt is
Don’t worry about how good it is, it’s all just good practice!
When I was nine, I would have thought you were out of your mind if you said I could design my own book and hold it in my hand.
So when my daughter wanted to make her own book, I said, “Let’s do it!”
Our process had many limitations in both our skills and knowledge, however the hard work was worth it. Now she has her first book (of what she hopes is many) and it is very exciting that she has the opportunity to begin so early.
This Coolicorn book is about a Unicorn/Coolicorn named Ella who is starting school. With the help of her guardian Fleur, her friends and her pet dog, she overcomes her first day nerves and learns the true power of friendship.
It is really wonderful to see kids writing for kids! There is a growing conversation about consulting kids (not just adults) about the things that concern or are relevant to them, and I hope that this is also coming to children’s books and fiction too.
Olivia originally wrote the first draft when she was much younger, for her little sister, who was scared about going to school. And a story about unicorns on their first day of school certainly helped calm those nerves.
Olivia wrote the book, and drew all the pictures, I helped edit, colour the pictures in and put it together. It’s not over-edited, it’s not pretending that it was written and illustrated by a professional, it’s real but it’s joyful.
I hope that this inspires more young writers to write, illustrate and make their book dreams become a reality! Because let’s face it, we always want more stories!
Coolicorns: Starting School is available in paperback, e-book and on Kindle Unlimited.
Story: When you make a connection with a girl at a party, but wake up to find that she didn’t write her number on your arm as you’d hoped. All you have left of her memory is a meaningless diagram drawn on your skin in permanent marker. Did she ghost you or does the drawing mean something more?
Themes: Love at first sight. Cinderella.
Words: 1362 ish
Permanent Marker
I wake with a smile on my face. What a night!
Music, a bonfire, dancing, sparklers, my cheeks still hurt from laughing!
And of course, her.
I turn my head and wipe the wetness off my cheek. Eck, drooling all over my pillow! I flail and squint at the curtains, trying to get some sort of clue about what time it is. It’s not my usual style on a Saturday night, but I was glad I had gone. My heart is still pounding at the thought. It was so worth this fuzzy head from lack of sleep.
I sit up slowly, thankful that all I feel is very thirsty and a little hungry. I was sensible with my choices, soft drink only, but the come down from sugar was not the nicest feeling even if I wasn’t nursing a hangover. I grab some shorts off the floor, sleepily struggle into them and stumble out of my room.
“Good afternoon.”
I look at the clock, is it really afternoon? 11:30 was close enough. I shrug at my Mum and head to the kitchen to make some toast.
“Morning sunshine.” my mum kisses me on the cheek and pats my back.
I mumble “Hi.” I’m not very talkative in the morning. She doesn’t let me go just yet. “What’s that on your arm? Are you alright?”
I look down, but I can’t see anything. My mum twists it back up and I can see a drawing on the outside of my forearm. I shrug, suddenly remembering Crystal and now the whole night is coloured with a pang of sadness, “one of my friends drew on me.”
She raises her eyebrows, “First I thought it was a bruise, now it looks more like a map.” She twists it painfully and I jerk it out of her grip.
“Food.” I point to the kitchen. I don’t want to get into this on an empty stomach. She can look at the drawing later.
Soon I have a pile of 6 pieces of toast on my plate, and I can’t avoid the marks on my arm any longer. My gut twists and suddenly I’m not hungry. She’s left a scribble.
The reason I had woken up so happy was that last night I had met this girl. My heart races at the thought of her. Long dark hair, brown skin and dark eyes that flashed with curiosity. We had talked for hours, and I could have been there all night. It had really felt like she was flirting, and I was flirting and so when it was time to leave of course I asked for her number. It seemed like a good sign when in response she asked for a permanent marker!
She scrawled on my arm, but I hadn’t bothered to check, because I didn’t want to seem desperate. Maybe that meant I had failed the test because I didn’t seem keen enough. My stomach churned. Now I felt like a fool.
I twisted my arm back the other way. No matter what angle I looked at it, none of what she had drawn looked anything like a phone number. It was time to face the facts. Mum was right, it looked like a doodle. Maybe a map, but that was stretching it. There was a big X near my elbow. if that wasn’t clear enough, I don’t know what was. She didn’t want to give me her number. I wish she had said, but I guess that is a bit hard to do after six hours of talking.
I slowly finish my toast and decide to go back to bed. None of my friends would be awake yet, and I’m pretty sure none of them knew who she was apart from “Crystal”, so I figured it best to go and nurse my wounds in private. I get up from the table as Mum comes back in.
“Give me another look. Is this one of those pranks from Josh? Did he steal your hat again?”
I put out my arm with a sigh. Not a prank, I think. She stole my heart. Which I didn’t even know was possible in six hours. Looks like I was wrong. I felt so lame.
“No, I think it was just someone’s way of not wanting to see me again.” I mumble and I’m not sure she hears me, but it feels better, to tell the truth rather than lie and say “nothing”.
“See there’s an x, and a tree, and the creek near Davie’s house. That was where the party was right?”
My mum thinks she’s young, and has this fantasy about how fun and exciting and filled with daring my life is, but the truth is, my life is awkward, and normal, just like hers. I look back at my arm, looking down at it. Maybe it could be a map? That black splodge could be Davie’s house, and that could be the creek. Then there’s the skate park, a tree and an x.
My mum quirks her eyebrow, “If you don’t check it out, maybe I will, and I’m going to keep the treasure.” I roll my eyes. “You just want me out of the house.” “Go shower, then get out in the fresh air. You always feel better when you are outdoors. Take your bike too. If it turns into a dead end you can just hang out at the skate park.”
I shrug because it isn’t a bad idea. Moving on is better than moping. It still stings a bit though, this strangeness that is happening in my chest when I think of her, but I need to move forward. First, a shower.
As I ride my bike towards Davie’s house, and then the park, I wonder how I could make it easier for someone to decline my offer to keep in touch. Maybe I could give girls my number and then just let them decide? If they don’t message me, I could always soothe myself, pretending they had somehow lost it. Is lying to myself even ethical?
I am distracted by the feel of the heat off the bitumen, but thankfully the breeze is cool. It is a bit hard to ride while looking at my outer forearm, so I ride around the park for a bit trying to figure it out before stopping at the biggest tree and checking the arm map again.
I dump my bike in the thick roots of the tree. There is nothing else here except leaf litter, a girl’s lost Converse, judging by the size, and a Sharpie. It seems like it should be a sign, but I know it’s not, people draw on this tree all the time. There’s barely any bark-coloured space left between all the “I heart every superstar forever”.
I unbuckle my helmet and lean against the tree. It was time to let go. One part of me had been hoping that there would be something here, a number or a note. I was no prince charming, there was no way I could tell if this shoe was hers, and trying to find a girl through her shoe was too weird, even for me. Unless it had her phone number on the sole?
I pick it up hopefully, but throw it down in disappointment.
“Is my shoe down there by any chance?” A voice calls from the tree and I jump!
“What?” I peer up to see Crystal, perched two branches above me, swinging her legs, one foot missing a shoe.
Relief floods me. I try not to grin, but I don’t succeed. I pick up the shoe again, “It’s here.” “Oh good.” We pause and just look at each other, smiling. So she was into me! “Hi.” “I was starting to get worried that you wouldn’t be able to work it out.” I laugh. “You probably gave me too much credit. I thought you were ghosting me.” She shrugs, “Yet here we are.” My heart rate accelerates. “So can I come up?” She rolls her eyes at me, “That’s the idea Jonathan, but only if you bring the pen and the shoe.” I scoop them up in my left hand and start climbing. I was not about to let her get away twice.
I have a new e-book for Children! It’s a fun little rhyming book about reading. I have a little one beginning to read right now, so I understand how important it is to give them a good start into reading. I hope you enjoy this fun little book! Thank you as always for your amazing support. Happy Reading!
Here is the blurb: Penguin has a book! He wants to share. Come and take a look! Where will you read it?
Penguin wants to share his favourite book with his friends! He loves reading and wants his friends to enjoy it too. There are so many things he loves about reading and books that he wants to share!. This book introduces children to talking about and sharing books. A delightful rhyming book introducing young children to a love of reading.
It has almost been a decade since my first novel came out, and I’m updating you with some exciting news! I am planning a second edition with bonus material, a new cover and a new title! It’s not undergoing a radical transformation, but I hope you enjoy the new look and the tweaks. I am also thinking about releasing it as a hardcover so stay tuned! So here is the new title announcement, with the blurb, just to remind you what it’s all about.
(This is not the new cover).
A PRINCE ALWAYS LIES
Does a Prince always always lie?
Is a Healer always right?
Ambitious and gifted, 17 year old Alenia is on her way to becoming a healer. Having no father and barely any money earns her no favours. If she keeps to herself she knows she can earn the title or Healer in spite of the world’s disgust. Believing she wasn’t born to hide, Alenia earns a scholarship to Anesia’s most prestigious university, right under the noble’s noses.
Her dream is within her grasp, now she just has to survive the colourful and flitting world of the nobility. Alenia couldn’t have chosen a worse time, the Queen has been ill for years, the crops are dying and the sole heir has failed to fulfil his prophecy to bring healing to the land. Some groups have begun to take the pirate law into their own hands.
Her budding friendship with Gypsies Relle and Laos, lead her into an odd encounter with Prince Dylantian that she cannot undo. She is not the only one searching to change family fortunes. This stormy alliance with the enemy has dangerous consequences, uncovers secrets, avenges betrayal and reveals much more. Drawn into his quest to restore the Queen’s health, and discover the truth about the Royal Family’s misfortune, Alenia knows this can only end in heartbreak, but she cannot let the chance for truth die. As Dylantian and Alenia’s fates intertwine, she finds herself gambling with more than just her own life to try and reclaim what has been lost.
Will the Prince or the Healer succeed in their quest to reclaim what has been taken?
Can they go on if everything they know has shattered?
Reclamation is the first novel set in Anesia, the first nation of the Dragon Isle.
“It’s a special night!” The lad’s eyes, hair and skin were dark but looked purple under the house lights. His smile broadened, he slid in next to me, slapping his hand on the counter. That grin was infectious, if not a little bit cheeky. I was willing to indulge him.
“It is?”
“Definitely.” He nodded with teasing confidence. If his grin grew any, surely his cheeks would burst.
I sipped my drink, smugly watching him wait for my response. “And why is tonight so special?”
From the twinkle in his eye, he knew he had me then. “It’s an anniversary.”
“Whose?” I pretended to look around the crowd, eyebrows raised. This was his make or break moment. Was he a creeper or was he as true as the good vibes he was giving me?
He leans in, “It’s the tenth time I’ve seen this band play live, and I have to say, I thought it was an infatuation at first, but looks like it’s true love.”
I laugh with relief. “Well I am happy to hear that!” In more ways than one!
He was funny, not to mention cute, with that 240 volt smile in this 110V world.
“You’re the partner of the guitarist aren’t you?” He didn’t bother to hide that he didn’t want it to be true.
“He’s my brother. I’m the help at the promotions table.”
He winced, scooting his fingers over the bar towards mine.
“It does have its perks.” At this venue especially. Was it stupid to pretend I hadn’t noticed him before?
Welcome to Ask the Author! I hope you enjoy these mini interviews! On with the show!
Why do you like writing romance? First and foremost for the happy ending. If stories are too tragic they get stuck in my head in a bad way and I can be affected for days. I guess that is the shadow side to empathy? So I like happy endings because I’d rather be affected by a happy and optimistic story about how people can grow and change and be open hearted.
Also I have completed studies in psychology and relationship counselling, so this genre is right up my alley. Except instead of counselling real life relationships, I’m helping characters through their difficulties.
What authors do you like to read? I enjoy Mimi Grace, Melina Marchetta, and Jaclyn Moriety. I used to love Jacqueline Mitchard when I was younger and the intense drama didn’t get to me as much. Basically I love the deep character work they do. The characters are flawed and believable but they go deep. Writing goals!
What are your pet story hates? I like a good fantasy story, but the 300 year age gap bugs me a little. Too many poor choices by a main character, also has me cringing and jerks me back to reality.
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