A new sense of freedom...

This is brilliant, I looked at my blog demographics (how boring) and nobody reads this, so that means I can write anything I like!  How incredibly cool is that.  A blog on blogger is like an unknown flea on an incredibly hairy Great Dane, there is an ocean of people expressing themselves with the written word and absolutely nobody reading it!  It's complete freedom of speech!

I was posting my blogs on blogger in the hope that someone may read it and go "Wow!  That's the most interesting and incredible thing I have ever read, lets give her a big bag of cash and publish all of her books, she's amazing!" so I was trying to be interesting, which takes effort, but now I know nobody reads this I don't need to make any effort whatsoever.  That works for me as I am incredibly lazy.  It's like buying a lottery ticket.  You buy a lottery ticket hoping that you can spend £1 and get a £1,000,000 in return with absolutely no effort or hard work, the lottery is the epitome of being lazy.

It's 9.10am and I am sat here in my dressing gown thinking I should have had a shower by now, but instead all I have done is feed my goose and ducks and now i'm watching the news out of the corner of my eye with a cuppa.  There's nothing going on in the world today except the Royal Wedding and a remake of Arthur.  I probably would have watched the royal wedding, but i'm going to a little folk festival instead and the likelihood of me watching the new Arthur film is incredibly low so none of it is news to me.

I should also be packing, probably, but I know I can do it all in a day so i'm not fretting.  I'm moving all my stuff into storage next week and going off in a motorhome around cornwall with my boyfriend.  I think I may spend the day thinking about packing rather than actually packing, as i'm lazy, and I will do something else instead.

I've started writing a new novel, but i've just thought of something amazing and new to put in it, it's a make believe hippo who likes wearing stripey jumpers.  He's called Henry and he's going to pop up all during the novel, there may also be a turtle.  I'm going to write it as we go around Cornwall, it's summer so I can sit outside.

I'm going to put my paint brushes down for 6 months whilst I work on my new business www.easelchallenge.co.uk so that should be interesting.  The website isn't finished yet, but it wont take too long if I pull my finger out, i've only got to do one page.

I dont' play the lottery so i'm not going to win, I suppose I will just have to work very hard, which is a daunting prospect for a lazy person.

My Inspiration - part 1

Here's a FREE novel for you all, you don't need any fancy devices to read it, you can read it on Google; for all of you who bought the paperback version of this novel I must just tell you that it is now out of print and I will not be printing anymore, so the copies you have are the only copies on the planet, when I die they will be worth a fortune so look after them x

One for Sorrow is the first story in this series of stories, this novel is where it all started, it is where my writing turned into something that I could publish. My other stories were personal; I used make believe characters to tell twisted rambling stories about my personal thoughts and feelings to work through issues I had with my life, but this novel is different. This is the first novel I wrote for someone else.

The inspiration behind this novel was a little girl who was scared of death. The little girl had spent her life living with her mother and watching her father leave her to go to foreign countries and fight wars, he was a soldier. Then one day her father was in an explosion, but he didn't die. The stress of watching his friends die in front of his eyes was too much for him so he was discharged from the army. A few months after her father returned to England her mother was killed in a car crash. Even though she hoped her father would be safe as he fought in our wars, she was always ready for the news that he had died and she was elated every time she saw him as she knew it could be the last time, she never expected her mother to die. Her mother was everything to her, she was always there for her with loving open arms, ready to wipe away her tears and make her feel safe and secure, but all of a sudden she as gone. The little girls world changed in the blink of an eye and where she once felt the warmth of her mothers hugs she was now left with a traumatised soldier who was just back from Iraq and under psychiatric supervision. The little girl learnt at a very young age that in a matter of minutes your whole world can be turned upsidedown and at the innocent age of 12 her biggest fear was death.

It deeply upset me that the little girl was scared of death at such a young age and I realised that other people must be scared of death too, so I thought I would write a story to put everyones mind at ease, in the hope that it may help the living that the dead leave behind. It is a story of fiction written to help people, it is not beliefs, it's simply a nice idea.

As a lot of you know, I grew up with lots of animals, which obviously all died at some point, everything dies, that's just nature. When our animals died we burried them in the garden, so I never questioned where they had gone. I knew where they were, they were in the garden. I may have been told a story of heaven when I was a child, but I can't remember being told about that, and I never really listened as child, so in my brain the dead were burried in the garden, full stop. Due to the fact that we had so many animals and they died all of the time i've never feared death as I saw it as part of life, everything dies, so it was a huge deal to me to hear that a little girl was scared of death.

Fearing death seems strange to me, fearing death is like fearing breathing. We breath, it's a fact, we die, that's a fact too, so why waste your life worrying about it? Worrying about things is like praying for bad things to happen.

I feel incredibly lucky as religion was never discussed in my family, there were no arguments for or against religion. It wasn't a dodgy subject, it just wasn't ever bought up as I knew where things went when they died, they went in the garden, so as a child my brain was completely free from other peoples religious views. It was taught at primary school, but I wasn't listening, I was just looking forward to blowing eggs for Easter or making colourful stained glass windows out of crate paper and glittery cards and decorations at christmas. At secondary school I always made sure my violin lesson was during Religious Education lessons, if I timed it right I could leave 5mintues after everyone was settled in class and return 5 minutes before the bell went. When I was older I took some time to read about many different religions, regular religions, spiritual religions, witchcraft type religions, etc, but there was nothing which agreed with what I thought about God, so I never took one on. With that in mind, I was able to make up anything I liked about what happens after death to appease the young girl, my mind was free to roam, so it did.

***

One for Sorrow

Edward had carried the engagement ring in his pocket for over a week as he tried to pluck up the courage to ask Nicole to marry him. Had he known that he would die before the question would leave his mouth he would have asked her sooner. Edward refuses to cross over to his new life on his path to enlightenment until the deed is done, even if he has to return to earth as a ghost and risk his very soul.

Edwards actions are driven by Love, but what is it that drives Tim's? What is it that drives him to treat Marie the way he does, and what is it that makes her stay?

Find out here...it's FREE!

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=m7JdB6lIL-AC&lpg=PP1&ots=XrxIm-Hhzn&dq=one+for+sorrow+stacey+clarke&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q&f=false

***

We Come in Peace is the sequel to One for Sorrow and written for my boyfriend as he wanted to know what happened next.

My inspiration - part 2

The reason I started writing this novel was due to a comedian who was moaning about police brutality. Basically someone filmed the police beating up a man - a little, i've done worse! - and then the press went mad and made everyone unhappy with the police yet again.

In my brain the point of the police is to make people feel safe, safe in their homes and safe when they walk down the street, that's the point in the police. And when the press continually attack them it not only makes the police look bad, but it also makes people feel unsafe and that's no good to anyone.

How can the police be seen as a figure of authority if they are constantly 'told off' like little kids for their actions. They're either in control or they aren't, if they are supposed to be a figure of authority then let them get on with their job and do it.

I say bring back the 60's/70's cops that set people up and beat the crap out of people just to get a confession. At least then they could get things done, these days they are strung up by red tape and can't lift a finger to help, then they get told off for not being able to do anything. That's got to be frustrating.

If it wasn't for all this red tape then maybe the police would be able to get to places quicker, hopefully before someone is beaten to death. The whole situation is ridiculous. Society has made the police accountable for their every little action, so it is society that is stopping the police from doing their job and getting to places on time, and it is the very same society who is complaining about the situation that has caused the situation by complaining.

Personally if I had a job where I had committed myself to serve and protect people, then I got harrassed by people as I walked down the street and made out to be worse than the devil by the press, then I would say 'f&ck you' to the people I was protecting and I just wouldn't bother or I would wait until such a time that I could beat the crap out of the people I was trying to protect and then let loose when I thought nobody was watching.

You can't expect someone to show you any respect if you don't show them any.

At the end of the day the police are human beings and if they are faced with 1000 angry people screaming in their faces, ready to trample them to the ground, then they are well within their right to attack and fight back. The police are human beings and just because they are wearing a uniform doesn't mean that they don't get scared. I have nothing against a fellow human being defending themselves or even attacking someone when faced with a mob. I have nothing against that at all.

Fair enough hold them accountable for their actions, as you would with anyone else, but don't make a song and dance about it. All that does is promote fear and make people stop respecting someone who is supposed to be in authority.

You can't have it both ways, either stop complaining and let the police get on with their job, or keep complaining and stop the police from doing their job.

I've been wrongly arrested and treated incredibly badly in a cell, but I refuse to tar every police officer with the same brush just because I was faced with a Nazi police officer who was obviously bullied at school and hated women. You can't judge everyone on the actions of a few.

This is not a third world country, we should be able to trust the police, we should also be able to trust doctors, but the press wont let us trust either of them and instead they use their voices to poison our minds with disturbing stories. We should loosen the leash we have put around the police's neck and see if society has trained them well enough to behave properly, because if we make this leash any tighter we are going to strangle them and then they will be no use to us at all.

Rant rant rant

Anyway.

So, thinking about the relevance of being informed about police brutality made me wonder "is ignorance really bliss?" Do we really need to know every single little thing that happens?

I knew if I wrote the above piece of writing on my former blog then it would cause a blog riot about the police and people would entirely miss the question, so I decided to change the question and ask "if a bloody big comet was about to hit the planet and we were all going to die, would you want to know?"

I explored this question in the novel. The whole novel is a metaphor. In fact it's not a metaphor, it's a simile as the police are not mentioned in the novel at all and in order to be a metaphor they would have to be.

UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/We-Come-in-Peace/dp/B004LROOIM

America: http://www.amazon.com/We-Come-in-Peace-ebook/dp/B004LROOIM

I think I just don't understand why we are being told about something that we can't change, tell me news that I can do something about, tell me about the tigers and how to save them, tell me about the childrens hospital that needs people to raise money to buy new equipment to save little babies lives, tell me how to stop racism, tell me how to house the homeless and feed the hungry, tell me things that I can help with, that I can change, but don't waste my time by telling me that men are fighting, because that's human nature, men fight, I can't change that, nobody can change that.