One Tick of the Clock

A tick of the clock, and a year has passed.

All the worries or joys have faded away

The year has disappeared, gone so fast,

No longer this year, this month, this day,

One tick of the clock and a memory begun,

We celebrate a new year, but life goes on,

No longer will the events of just last week,

Be remembered this year, they have gone.

One tick of the clock and the world has spun,

A second in time, important to many,

Across the planet, last year is done,

One tick of the clock, new hopes aplenty.

Hello again . . . .  anyone there?  Yeah I know it's my fault, I'm not an avid blogger and not much of major interest to the universe in general. But no worries, I'll plod on anyway. So what's new? I hear you ask. Well I can't remember where I got to on my last blog so a quick update is in order. 

I think I mentioned my first two books, A Fly on the Ward and Humanology. Since then I have given birth to others. A Fly on the Garden Wall and A Nautical Novice (A Fly on the Boat) were duly written, published and promptly forgotten in the vast empty space of the ebook ether. That may be slightly untrue, I think I have sold one or two here and there, A Fly on the Ward remains my best seller. I retain hopes for the others . . . . .

But now I have taken a change in direction. With the aid of my 7yr old grandson, I have taken a lunge into the world of children's books. The very first one is awaiting proof but should be available in Amazon in a matter of days from me writing this. The book is a short story entitled; The Little Train Set and Billy the Hero. I have based these books on the criteria required for school reading, though they would also suit any child with an interest or even the possession of a train set. The target age group is 6 to 8yrs and all content research has been obtained with the able assistance of my grandson.

I plan another two of these books before I decide whether to continue or not. The second is written but as yet I have not published it. I thought one new book at a time is enough. The second book is entitled; The Little Train Set and Someone is missing! I have the storyline for the third but have not yet set pen to paper, or finger to keyboard.

Finally, in between children's books, I have begun a science fiction vs science fantasy sort of book. I can say no more about that yet, it's a very new project long in planning but difficult to write. I have never written an actually full length novel before so this is proving to be quite interesting.

That is where I am regarding my writing, four books published, two in the pipeline and one awaiting me to write it. Good huh? I never thought I would actually achieve the published written word and though I have no claim to fame, I have written no huge best sellers, I am happy with what I have done.
I will endeavour to update this blog more often and possibly even try to make it more interesting . . oh hang on, there's a pig flying past my upstairs window!

Bye for now.

I wrote this after a night of contemplation, or was it that I just couldn't sleep? I don't know but it came into my mind anyway.
If you have read my blogs, which I admit not many people do, you will have gained the impression that I have not been 100% fit over the last 10 years or so. In truth my health has been absolute rubbish! But as I lay there in my pit, I realised that all of we sick people rely on a loved one such as wife, husband, partner or mistress and I wondered how they must feel as they watch us suffering from day to day.
So I wrote this little ditty and posted it around where it might just get read. It did and many appeared to like it, so here it is.

Thank you.

We are so often ill, our breath coming in gasps,

We fear for ourselves, plead for mercy,

Those breaths we take fight us with wheeze and rasp,

Our plight is hard; our mood is hard and bitchy.

But wait a moment; pause a minute, look around, do you see?

Those that love us, care for us, nurse us and stay by our side,

Those loved ones, siblings, partners or spouse, standing closely,

Holding our hand, mopping a brow, hiding how they cried.

So while we suffer, puff and pant, do not grumble, do not rant,

There is strength beside us, a hand to support, an ear to listen,

Our loved ones who watch us suffer without showing a tear,

Our life is hard, full of despair, but do we see the eye that glistens?

My wife is my rock, my oxygen mask, my faithful nurse,

I am lucky, I’m not alone, I have someone who cares,

Suffer we do, often it’s true, but don’t moan, don’t curse,

One of us is ill but both feel the pain, the suffering we share.

Friend or family, brother or son, husband or wife,

We all must remember those who hide their tear, hide their pain,

They sacrifice their hearts, to accompany us in our plight,

So keep in your hearts a smile, for those who love us, with nothing to gain.

©Michael K Chapman 2014.

Define pleasure.

It is funny how one book can sell very well but others do little. Why is it that medical stories attract more interest than gardening? I mean most people have a garden and can relate the odd humorous anecdote about events that happened to them while in their rolling landscaped garden or back yard. I had considered this a topic worth covering but now I’m not so sure. While A Fly on the Ward sold well, so far, A Fly on the Garden Wall is no where near being as successful. Why I wonder, is it because deep down we like to laugh at the misfortunes of others and hospital stories meet this criterion?  Could it be that many people have not endured the care of the medical profession and so wish to discover more about a world they have no knowledge of?

Perhaps the subject of gardening is too boring for today’s hyper electronic inhabitants, possibly the hobby or chore of tending one’s garden is not as widely appreciated as the television gardening experts would have us believe?

I admit I no longer find much joy in spending hours rooting around in the earth and removing weeds, or cutting that damn lawn yet again, or being attacked by a rampant rose bush. However I really cannot say I like being incarcerated in a medical meat factory either and would hope I never have to experience the dubious joys of the National Health Service ever again. Given the choice I would avoid both subjects and choose something more pleasurable, and so I have.

My next book which is at present under construction, strain and a pile of waste paper, will be entitled, A Fly on Deck. This time the subject matter will concern the art of sailing, and boating, possibly sinking but certainly all things nautical. Most people envisage a beautiful sunny day, calm seas and a splendid white yacht shining against the golden sands of a small Pacific Island. So surely this will be a happier and more favourable subject than hospital or gardening? One would think so, wouldn’t one?

We’ll see . . . .  watch this space.

A difficult story

My third book entitled A Fly on the Garden Wall has now been published and so far it has been met with a wall of disinterest. Oh well, one can’t win ‘em all. My first book, A Fly on the Ward is still selling very well, not quite Fifty Shades of Gray selling, but still selling in good numbers.

Happily the forth and fifth books are progressing, if some what slowly due to interruptions from family and health.

The next in the A Fly on the . . . series will be called (I think), A Fly on the Boat. Obviously this book will regal you with humorous stories of my nautical misadventures and the odd soaking. It will follow the style of A Fly on the Ward and A Fly on the Garden Wall, stories to make you smile.

But, the fifth book is being a right pain in the arse!  I am trying to write a novel. That idea itself is novel to me but I thought I would have a go. The problem arises in what I have planned. I hope to write a science fiction story with science fantasy added. This is proving difficult as I have to make sure my science knowledge is actually correct and up to date. 

When writing fantasy one can make up anything and explain it as ‘magic’, however when one is writing science fiction, known rules and facts need to be adhered to. One cannot change the laws of physics simply to achieve a good storyline, nor can one mess around with chemistry or biology. So this is going to be a difficult task and may never reach completion, but we’ll see . . .

Watch this space as they say.

All my books are available from Amazon in digital or paperback.

 

Anyway, my angioplasty (stent) went well, sort of. The plumber who undertook the procedure could have been a tad more gentle but he explained the block in my front artery took some bashing to get through. That's his excuse anyway. 

The trouble started once I returned home. I had received no information, guidance or instruction from the cardiac unit where I was restrained, the only words I kept hearing was 'exercise' so I assumed that was what I should do. Oops!  I began to exercise the day after my stent but will admit it felt wrong and I soon felt strange each time I tried. But I thought I would persist and attempted some form of exercise the weekend. Yesterday (Monday) I had to visit my delicious GP to update her on the events and seek prescriptions. I also intended to ask for information on what I was expected to do and what was due to happen following this form of procedure, she is always helpful.

The doctors surgery is about 2 miles away and nearly all of the journey is down hill, like I mentioned before I live quite high above sea level, so I decided to walk . . . .  

What a wally!  Within 50 yards I was breathless and my heart was hammering at my ribs. I rested for a few moments before continuing and I found the going easier after a while. I guess I had walked half mile before my mobile (cell) phone rang, the surprise of that almost gave me a heart attack! I answered the phone and lo and behold, it was the local cardiac nurse checking up on me. I didn't even know there was such a beastie!  Well obviously she immediately wanted to know why I was sounding so breathless on the phone and why wasn't I at home when she rang there first?

I'm walking to the doctor's I said. How far is that she asked. I told her which surgery I was heading for and where I was at that moment. Then I had to remove the phone from my ear as she proceeded to berate me for my stupidity in no uncertain terms! When I could get a word in, I explained I thought I had to exercise and that a gentle walk would be ideal. Again I was forced to remove the phone from my ear as she described in her own terms what a plonker I was and that any exercise should be GENTLE! Not a bleddy 2 mile walk!

The nurse demanded I stop where I was and describe how I felt at that moment, not good because I felt terrible. My breathing was a struggle and my heart appeared to be attempting to escape the chest of a lunatic.

I was stuck, no buses in site, no taxi's available and I was now about half way into my journey. I couldn't walk home and I couldn't carry on to the doc. I decided to try and get a lift from a passing car . . . or four. No one stopped and all looked at me as though I was insane or a terrorist, humans are not in general, inclined to assist a fellow in distress and no one wanted to help me. Finally a car slowed enough for me to step in front of it and force it to stop. The driver angrily open his window and prepared to shout, then he heard my breathing and relented. I explained I only needed a lift to the surgery because I could not make it and he readily agreed. Once in the car he turned to me and simply said, "COPD?"  I was too breathless to answer so I just nodded. He then informed me his wife had copd so understood when he heard my rattling lungs. I arrived at the surgery alive, almost.

Finally, guess what my delicious doc said . . . ?  Yep, pretty much the same as the cardiac nurse! Least she is a pleasure to look at, even when she's giving me a stern telling off. She also informed me that I was a very, very lucky man, in fact she agreed with my consultant that I was a 'heart attack waiting to happen!'  Anyway I finally got the info I sought, gentle exercise in the form of pottering about the house was allowed, long walks, the exercise bike and the Wii were definitely out of the question. No carrying, lifting, mountaineering or wine, women and song until I had visited the cardiac nurse one next week.

I took a taxi home . . . .  to face even further, and much louder, telling off when my wife got home form work. Ahh well, we live and learn, some of us just take a little longer . . . . .

The illusive publisher

OK, so both my books have been on sale for a while now, A Fly on the Ward became available in May 2012 and Humanology was published in August 2012.  I am busy on my third book which will be entitled, A Fly on the Garden Wall.

So now I have a couple of published books under my belt, should I try for a literary agent or publishing company this time?  So far I have only published on Amazon.  I admit I would love to see some of my work shining alluringly upon the shelves of bookshops, it’s not quite the same downing to Kindle or other electronic devices. The trouble is, how does one get a publisher?  I am not a famous footballer, nor am I a popular singer or TV personality and I am certainly not an infamous politician! So how do I get on those bookshelves? Honestly I haven’t a clue. Maybe I will start pleading, begging and beseeching some of the more honest and better known publishers via the good old internet. Actually that’s about the only way one can contact others these days. The art of letter writing and even the initial phone conversation are in rapid decline.

It’s not that I want to be rich and famous exactly; I just wish to be recognised for my work, identified as an author and get paid for being an author. Will that ever happen?  Some how I doubt it but I will endeavour to seek out the enlightenment of the illusive publisher as I continue to write.