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Last day #free #kindle #ebooks

Today is the last day to download most of my books of my books for free.

I’ve been quietly blown away by how popular the two gardening books have been in the USA. It really does amaze me, how two books, written about my allotment in England have been downloaded in such a number.  I’ll be rather cross, if that all turns to out to be the work of some Machiavellian Spambot.

Beyond the two gardening books, there is the stack of fiction. Two out of three of the Devan Coultrie books from the Peace Series are free. You can also download Fragments and Kangana.

Today, Tuesday 31st March 2020, is the last day where all six are free to download onto to your kindle or the kindle app.

Incidentally,  I’ve been doing some socially distant story telling on the Petal Horticultural Obbit Facebook page. You can find the videos there, and I’ve also uploaded them onto the Horiticultural Obbit You Tube Channel.

Last 48 hours #FREEBOOKS #KINDLE

It is the last two days of the various books being free on kindle.

In keeping indoors, we are going to need something to read, to keep us occupied and perhaps even talk about to others.

It’s been really heartening actually, to see the downloads. Especially seeing nearly 130 downloads of the yellow gardening book, and in the United States of America!

Don’t forget that most of the fiction books are also available during this brief window.

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Fragments comes before the romance novel that is Kagana. That’s where you can initially find Gorbind. In Kangana, you get to read the start of his story.

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We can’t forget the Peace Novella Series, and my contributions which contain Devan Coultrie. The Devan Story starts with Retreating to Peace and continues with Postcards from Peace.

You can find the links on the side bar or head to the links page.

 

Freebie E-books! #bookworms

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As of yesterday, six of the books are currently free on Kindle for the next five days or so.

Whilst we are stuck in doors, we’ll need something to read, to talk about.

So here we have it. The six books above are fairly free. So if you have a kindle e-reader or the app, why not download.

You can find links on the side bar, or head to the books page.

 

Uncharted Territory

You really couldn’t make this up. I certainly couldn’t.

Write that the world is a-grip with fear, that a pandemic is in action.

Well, I’m sure someone did, that it was written some place.

The last week, has been weird, strangely disorientating.

I’ve been glued to the news, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of things in a clear and coherent way. All around me, the world is changing.

All of the books events that I was scheduled to attend, have been cancelled and postponed.  This does mean I have a stack of books to sell, all requiring good homes. Get in touch, I will waive postage! There is the contact form, somewhere. Those books might help, if we are going to be stuck in doors for a bit. You can also download them, if you have the Kindle App.

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That is pretty much all I have to offer people at this moment in time.

 

My two day jobs, involve people. I teach, so from today, my teaching will be done remotely. That’s going to be really very surreal. I don’t just like teaching, I love it. I’ve been doing it for ten years, and it’s more than just a passion. It really is a vocation. I salute, stand by with, my brothers and sisters in the teaching fraternity.  Since Tuesday, the air at work has been somewhat electric. The frisson has been that off worry, anticipation and anxiety.

Then there is the counselling. As a private practitioner, I’m only just starting out, but I’ve been standing by The Ethical Framework for years. I will continue to do so.  Counselling too, is a vocation. Something, that I can’t explain, in terms of process or experience. My work with trainees-those that I teach-as well as those I have worked with when volunteering, has felt really very powerful over the last few weeks. In the last week, working safely with clients, and offering them the required support has been main focus.

I am carrying on, as best I can. As much as I can.

Today is going to be weird. Seriously weird. I’ve felt anger, anxious and a profound sense of sadness.

I wish you all well.

All being well, I shall be around.

Go well, go safely. Rainbows and butterflies to you all.

 

 

 

Fragments: Fiction from theory

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Over the last few weeks, I’ve found myself reflecting upon my journey as an author. A journey that has had many twists, turns and been a really valuable process of development; it still is. I don’t think, for one moment, that this process will ever stop in terms of development.

There are, of course, the gardening books. I’ve diversified into fiction, and experimented with both fiction and non-fiction. A lot has happened over the course of six, soon to be seven books.

There has been a big career change that has straddled across those texts, across the last five years. I’ve been a teacher for ten years, and throughout that journey, I undertook another in parallel. I trained to become a person-centred counsellor. A process, that isn’t for the faint-hearted. I can safely say, that I am not the same person who started out on a level two listening skills course all those years ago. I think it was 2012, my memory escapes me!

In 2017, in I published the book that you see above. I spent 2015-2016 writing it whilst studying and teaching. I’ve written before, as to my reasons why. I experienced two significant bereavements through the course of writing that book; these impacted upon so many different aspects of my life and being. To write about a book about that process was somewhat interesting, and I guess-in hindsight-an aspect of grieving. I know that after the second bereavement, I found it physically impossible to pick up a pen to write. I had to give myself permission to finish what I had started, to complete a cycle, move on and through what I had experienced.

Fragments is a work of fiction, yes. It does however, have some basis in theory. Mourning and bereavement, to be more specific. To this day, I remember learning about Worden and his four tasks of mourning, to be acutely aware of how Fragments was written with those four ideas in mind. I kept them in mind, as things that ebb and flow. I don’t, for one moment, profess to be an expert. There are some, that say all counselling is about loss. This is certainly something that has echoed and permeated through my practice, and I can see how that would be the case.

The principles:

  1. To accept the reality off loss
  2. To work through, process the pain of grief
  3. To adjust to the world without the deceased
  4. To emotionally relocate the deceased whilst embarking on a new life.

Each of these four things is a part of the fabric of Fragments. Each of the six stories touches on these four principles. Each of the stories is also linked by Marcy the counsellor. A character, who herself, has a story about grief. There had to be a counsellor, I was training to be one, I saw one too.  I tried to distill into the pages, what I was learning, experiencing and feeling.

The characters are deliberately diverse, they reflect real life. There is Nandini, an elderly woman of Indian-ascent. A character who has a very private grief, a process that she struggle with on many levels. She is someone who might not, in real life, go to counselling. It pains me, makes me angry too, that there are communities out there, for whom counselling is unavailable, or not part of their frame of reference; it’s not the done thing. Nandini echoes to me. She is the type of client that I would want to support in my private practice-another story, another day-to help improve access to talking therapies and also the stigma around mental health.

I deliberately wrote about Chris, who loses his dog, Adelphi. Man’s best friend, a relationship just as important as all others; this had to be written too. There are children; teenagers, actually who feel pain and need someone to talk to.

That’s the key here. To talk.

People tend to pull faces at me, when I say that I’ve written about grief. My response is always the same. We don’t talk about grief, we hide it; so why not read about it? I could, very easily, attach a health warning. I choose not to. I see value in what I’ve written. I see, know, that it’s not an easy book; it’s long too. I also think that talking, about grief, is important. It is part of those four stages, least of all part of my practice as a counsellor. It’s not a textbook, not by any length of chalk. I’ve never intended it to be one either, but it does have a purpose. It certainly had one for me.

I hope that by reading it, someone else will find that too.

You’ll need tissue.

And a big mug of tea.

Look after yourself, though.

You’re important.

 

Fragments Universe: Food for thought

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Love, life, laughter and all that is in between.

The Fragments Universe currently stretches across two novels.

The first, the titular novel, is concerned with loss and bereavement. Two aspects of life that we, as a society, don’t talk about. Two aspects, that are very often swept under the carpet and at times, with really quite painful consequences.  Fragments contains six inter-linked stories that map what happens when loss and bereavement tear up universes. Whilst there is sadness, there is a hope and the capacity of humans to mend.

Kangana follows a character-Gorbind Phalla- and tells of his life before Fragments. Here, we sample a not so straight forward romance. A romance, set in the midlands, that shows that love isn’t always plain-sailing. Especially, if you have family members that also need to be taken care of.

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Fragments

Life starts and life ends. In between we form relationships and friendships. We have husbands, wives, sons, daughters and we mustn’t forget pets. Memories form that shape who we are and what we do. Only for death to cast it all askew. What we know becomes nothing by fragments, torn up and thrown to the winds. The Anand’s lose a wife and mother, Matthew is lost without his grandmother, Daniel loses the man he loved, Michael wonders about having children and Maya is a mother bereaved. Within are six inter-related stories explore what happens when the universe as we know it implodes and entirely. Grief is a journey to be travelled by them with emotions to be experienced as their lives are changed. Whilst they feel alone they are all connected and these are their stories. Family, friends and even our pets cannot escape when it comes to the footprint that is left by death.

 

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Kangana

There is no such thing as a straight forward romance.

Sometimes when you think you are falling for one person, you are really falling in love with everyone else around them too.
Gorbind’s family are his whole world, even if they are far from normal. His kid brother needs looking after and his Grandmother just wants him to find happiness.

His whole world changes when he meets Padmi. Life gets more interesting as she changes Gorbind’s universe completely. Romance with Padmi is anything but straightforward.

 

 

 

Here is my interview with Punam Farmah

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Hello and welcome to my blog, Author Interviews. My name is Fiona Mcvie.

Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?

Hello! I’m Punam Farmah, 35 and middle-aged.

Fiona: Where are you from?

I’m from Birmingham, England. A Brummie born and  bred

Fiona: A little about your self (ie,  your education, family life, etc.).

By day, I am a teacher and counsellor. I teach Psychology and humanities, and as counsellor I get to work with and meet lots of different people. Born and raised in Birmingham, I have two very supportive siblings and two fabulous parents.

Fiona: Tell us your latest news.

Earlier  this year, I published my latest contribution to the Peace Novella Series. This was a collection of short stories, and I am currently working on the next instalment. As such, I have inky fingers. I am also one of…

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30th July-Kindle Promotions!

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Commencing 30th July!

For a couple of days only, most of the book back catalogue will be

less than half price or free on kindle. 

Some of them are on

UK-based offers, others are global.

Make sure you get them whilst you can!

Peace Novellas: A summer read! #peaceseries

 

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It’s high summer, and a good time to settle down,

kick back and pick up a book to read.

Well, how about a few books, and to keep your thoroughly entertained?!

Set in the fictional town of Peace, Montana, there is a whole canon of novellas that will draw you into a world of riveting romance.

Written by an armada of different authors-me included!-there is something for everyone.

Most of the books are available from kindle, at less than a couple of quid for e-books. There are paperbacks too, and these are approximately a fiver a piece. Not bad really, for either an electronic library or paperback. If you have kindle unlimited, then I think some might be even be free to download!

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Yep, I’m part of that armada. I have two runners and riders in the Peace stable. The first is Retreating to Peace, and we meet Devan Coultrie. Devan travels to The USA  in something of a state, he’s after a new beginning and Peace is where he wants that to happen. Following on from that, is Postcards from Peace. Devan has settled into Peace, and here we get a snapshot of how his life has evolved.

If you fancy a copy of RTP or Postcards, the links are on the sidebar.

 

 

 

 

 

Inky and Instrumental

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When is a pen not just a pen? When it is capable of producing pure magic.

First thing first; years ago, teachers decided that my handwriting was terrible. I spent hours practising, and hated every minute of it. It felt almost unnatural to iron out the kinks and curves of my cursive handwriting. For years, I harboured a resentment. I like my handwriting, it helps to manifest everything that goes on inside my head.

For my twelfth birthday, Pops asked me what I wanted. I asked for a fountain pen. He looked at me as though this was really odd.

I got one though, a simple blue-barrelled one that he got from Smiths. I used it til it died an undignified death. I bought an assortment of Parker ones, mostly the Vector range and struggled to find a zing. This went on for some time.

Before long, I abandoned all hope of finding a pen of my own.

This is important, and if you’ve ever read or watched Harry Potter, you’ll know that a wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around.

And boy, did that happen.

I was in London one day, and walked passed The Pen Shop. I had time to kill, so I went in. There happened to be Parkers there, and I saw a shiny one. A shiny one, that happened to be in the Sonnet range. I asked to have a look, and was handed one.

Wham.

There might as well have been sparks. This was my pen, this was what I wanted to write with. Feeling all very overwhelmed, a bit shocked and surprised, I said thank you, walked off and was in something of daze. At that moment in time, I didn’t understand what had just happened. Off I sloped, and did some cyber-window shopping.

I wanted that pen.

By that time, I’d written Fragments, well two-thirds and in biro. I decided to find that pen. That book needed something special to finish it off; the book was a special, the final flourish had to be too.

Oh, I paced, I worried and I turned it over and over. My siblings couldn’t work out why I wanted that pen, biro did the job as far as they were concerned. Why on earth would I want a fountain pen, pay that much for it, and what was the big deal?

I got the pen. I had my Excalibur. This was my pen.

I had magic at my finger tips; the outlet that would get ideas from my brain, through the CNS and onto paper. I didn’t look back. I found a couple more; a bit like having  your favourite jumper in three different colours. I have three sonnets. I remember being in Venice and window shopping the Matte Black one. It didn’t feel right, it felt too heavy. I’ve even tried, out of sheer curiosity, to woman-handle a Mont Blanc. Too heavy. no zing; I didn’t even think about the price tag. I don’t think I am meant to have one of those.

Then came the IM. A slightly posher Parker pen, I guess. A random shot in the dark, but this also came with a zing. It’s a different zing to the Sonnet, but it’s a zing nonetheless. The two types of pen, sit on opposite sides of the pen case with a biro in the middle. A biro, to be used only in the case of an emergency.

All pens are to be inked up at all times.

I take no chances. I take those pens everywhere, alongside a notebook.

Then there is the ink. I don’t get on with cartridges. On my desk, is a wooden box beneath a stapler. It contains seven, small plastic bottles of ink. Imperial purple, grape, billbery, magenta, forest green and teal are used more often than not. I have Oxblood, but it doesn’t feel right; I really don’t like using that ink. There’s not black ink, blue does languish behind the box. This also means that I end up with inky fingers that are all too difficult to explain.

Everything of would-be note that passes across my desk is handwritten. The first draft of books always is, in a note book, on file paper. There is far more soul in this analogue, organic process compared to typing away.

Using a fountain pen certainly retains the kinks and curves of my handwriting.

As for reading it.

“Punam, your writing makes my eyes go funny.”