29 April 2013

Because we cannot move backwards into the past, every move we take has to be forwards, from A to B. In effect, we move along countless lines or paths, all of different lengths and all beginning at a point we can call A and ending, somewhere in the near or distant future, at B. We navigate many such lines at the one and same time: some of them we have chosen, but, in the majority of cases, we are usually not given a choice. The one thing we can be sure of is that, once we have stepped on to A, B is just that much closer, because, as I noted in the beginning of this post, we cannot move backwards into the past. Perhaps Nina intuitively knew that, although the path was not of her own choosing, she could still only move forwards in the direction of the path and that, eventually, the path would end and would be replaced by other paths. All the while terrified by what the path signified, she nevertheless managed to retain her optimism and her belief in happy endings. As we move from A to B, this is really all we have - an optimistic outlook and the belief that B will, somehow, physically, intellectually and/or emotionally, prove to be a more rewarding and satisfying place than A.  

26 April 2013

I would be extremely grateful if those of you who have already read The Space in Between could rate it on Goodreads. You don't have to write a review (unless you want to). Many thanks in advance.

25 April 2013

The hike was great, all 270 kms, and now all I have to do is to re-adapt to civilization...

On my return, I discovered that I had been given the Sunshine Award by Tima Maria Lacoba. Of course, I had no idea what a Sunshine Award was, but a bit of googling informed me that the Sunshine Award is given to those who, via their blogs, inspire others both positively and creatively.

Thank you, Tima.

There are, however, a few rules associated with the Award; among them the need to answer the following questions:

1. Favourite Colour
Possibly blue and/or purple, but every colour is wonderful, and, while gravitating towards blue, I would definitely be intrigued by all the reds and oranges and yellows and greens. Without the presence of other colours - even in muted form -  no single colour can possibly make much of an impression on its own. It is this relationship and contrast between colours that give individual colours life and prompt the question: what is your favourite colour?

2. Favourite Animal
I can't say for sure; I suppose they are like people - some become more favourite than others at different times and in different places simply because of who or what they are and/or what is going on in one's life at that particular time.

3. Favourite Number
Is it possible to have a favourite number? After all, a number is a number... On the other hand, one definitely has a connection with certain numbers. I suppose mine are 6, 7 and 5.

4. Favourite Non-Alcoholic Drink

5. Facebook or Twitter
I have never been on Twitter, but I do have a Facebook Page for information about my book and nothing else.

6. My Passion
Goodness! I might skip this one. I have a number of things that I am passionate about; if you are all that interested, you can check my website for some of them...

7. Getting or Receiving Presents
Another very strange question, though possibly not so strange given today's materialistic society.

8. Favourite Pattern
When life is made up of countless patterns and combinations of patterns, it would be very sad to be completely focussed on simply one pattern.

9. Favourite Day of the Week
Every day. After all, each day gives us new opportunities and new experiences. 

10. Favourite Flower
I don't think it is possible to isolate one flower, among the millions of different flowers around us, and label it 'favourite'. Gardenias at Christmas, proper roses with heavy perfume, small, perfectly formed flowers on rocky headlands, brightly coloured daisies... No, I don't have a favourite, but I love flowers.

Having answered the questions, I would now like to nominate the following people:
Keith Tilley, a wonderful scenic artist
Melanie Lee - creative, inspiring and wonderful
Annette Abolins, another fantastic artist
Alison Booth, author of Stillwater Creek

07 April 2013

I'm off hiking for a few weeks, so there won't be any posts until the end of April. In the meantime, you can find all information about my book on my website

05 April 2013


Those of you who have already read The Space in Between are welcome to rate it on Goodreads.  Goodreads is a site with book recommendations, reviews and the like, and it lists hundreds of books; your input - whether in the form of a rating or a review or both - is greatly appreciated.

03 April 2013

Excerpt from "The Space in Between"

Page 71   

         Jānis had stepped out of the world that had been his reality until only a few moments ago. He felt that he was now on the edge of an enormous crater that stretched across the universe where, until recently, his world had spun around the sun. Hovering so close to the crater, he could feel its depth and its size, and he could also feel that he was being pulled closer and closer to an edge that was not even or firm and that, in parts, fell away in sheer, endless perpendicular lines. Somewhere, along the edge, there was a flickering light. It was the only light in all the darkness of this strange world, and Jānis knew that he must not lose sight of it. He stepped back from the edge and hugged his sister very tightly. He thought it was strange that they were in two different worlds, and yet, somehow, they were still together.
         “It will be all right, Nika. Don't worry.” He wanted to tell her about the light, but he was not sure if she would understand. He said, “Things will work out. Just wait and see.”
         The light would become stronger. He wanted to be able to tell her that, but she was not standing on the crater, and she could not see the light that was in the distance. He would fight with the Rifles, and he would fight for Latvia, and eventually the Bolsheviks would take power, and the war would come to an end. When that happened, Latvia would be free. He knew that he had to believe in that happening, otherwise there was no point to anything any more. He kissed her lightly on the forehead.
         The officer with children was talking to him now; he needed to be leaving, and, while he was possibly thinking of the impending darkness and the cold, he may have also been thinking of his wife and his children somewhere in Russia. Or else, he may have been thinking about endings and new beginnings, or perhaps he had stopped thinking altogether, after all the orders that had been given, and all the men who had died.
         Then the officers and Jānis were gone.