The Dance of Love

You’d think, as a romance novelist, that I’d be one of the first people putting my hand up to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day. The truth is that I’ve never celebrated it: not as a married woman, and not in my single days.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in love. I celebrate love. My home, for goodness sake, is filled with love hearts made of wood, fabric, glass and felt. I LOVE love! I adore hearing my husband sing love songs. I become engrossed in rom-coms.

And while it’s true that Cupid shot me 19 years ago with his arrow, and I’m still enjoying happily ever after, my desire to celebrate this Hallmark-endorsed day hasn’t increased.

In fact, every year I can’t help but shake my head at the untold money spent on chocolates and flowers. How easily us humans get sucked into commercialism! I love good-quality chocolate (though, to be fair, I’m a savoury girl and would choose something salty over sweet every single time) and my house always has flowers in it, but if a man was prompted to give me those things because of a date on a calendar and copious red reminders in every shop, then what would it say about our love?

To me, love is what happens every day of the year. Day in, day out, it is about respect, kindness, compassion, empathy, humour and companionship. How we live each and every day with our loved one means far more than a single day marked on a calendar. If I have to single out ‘romance’ days, I prefer to celebrate the anniversaries of my heart: the day my husband and I first kissed ~ April 16^th 1995 (we moved in together the next day), and the day we married ~ December 29^th  1996.

 

A blustery day: Green Bay, Auckland, New Zealand.

St Valentine’s Day has Christian origins, and was based on the saints named Valentinus. The stories were all based on martyrdom: hardly healthy grounds for love! The main story is to do with ‘farewell’. Is this really how we want to celebrate love? Obviously over the years the day has ‘evolved’ to be an occasion on which lovers express their affection through gifts. Mass-produced greeting cards have become the mainstay of this day.

One of the things that disturbs me most about this cultural tradition of Valentine is how it sets up those without a lover for misery, and perpetuates just how alone they are. How many heart-broken teenagers walk this planet lamenting the fact that the postman didn’t bring them a card? Doesn’t anyone love them?

If you’re looking for love, look inside you. Be the best version of yourself that you can be. There is no one on this planet (as wonderful as they might be) who is capable of plugging up the hole in your heart. Learning the art of self love is the key to all healthy and happy relationships. Believe in yourself. As your self value increases, you’ll find yourself drawn to people who carry a similar vibration.

Want to attract a loving, healthy and long-term relationship in your life? Write a list! Write a list of exactly what you are looking for in a partner or relationship. Write it down each day, in order of priority. It doesn’t matter if the priority changes each day. What is important is that you become clear and focussed about what is important to you. Many people go into relationships without understanding what it is that they’re seeking. Write what you want, not what you don't want.

If you're in a relationship that doesn't make your heart sing, but for whatever reason you don't want to end it, then use the list writing to create the relationship you do desire. Focus on what is important to you, such as ease of communication, affection, humour, companionship, empathy, understanding, common interests, sexual compatibility, and so on. Create the relationship of your dreams.

Life is too short for regrets, and for second-best relationships. YOU deserve the best relationship. There are seven billion of us on this planet. Believe me, there is someone out there who thinks you’re wonderful and would move heaven and earth to be with you. And it will happen, I promise you, when you believe that you’re worthy.

The Written Word

The other night, the new Moon in Aquarius fell in my third house of communication. As an astrologer, I knew it was, indeed, a time to make wishes for my full-time writing career.

I’m taking deep breaths, and finding a new rhythm to my life. For the first time in 12 years, since selling The Mother magazine, I no longer ‘have’ to work on weekends. This is a novelty to me. My daughters thought it rather wonderful when we had a long, lazy brunch last Sunday. What a surprise they’ll have when they wake up later and discover it wasn’t a one off.

I arrived home from town yesterday with two new Rom-Coms and a couple of magazines under my arm, and felt such joy at the leisure time which awaited me. I think I’ll soon get the hang of this. Work and discipline come easily to me; play, not so much. It is, however, one of my goals for this year (and beyond): to play!

My current writing projects include continuing to work on my romance novels; awaiting the publication of a few non-fiction books this year: Cycle to the Moon ~ a journal for celebrating your Moontime; Apron Strings: Reflections on being a Stay-at-Home Mother, and my next recipe book.

My children’s books coming out this year include: Blue Jeans, illustrated by Susan Merrick, and Picnic in the Bathtub illustrated by Sara Simon.

Although I’m committed to being a full-time writer now, I am still offering astrology and mentoring sessions. These can be purchased through my website:

http://veronikarobinson.com/astrologer/index.shtml

http://veronikarobinson.com/mentor/index.shtml

I will leave you with a lovely note I received this morning about my novel Bluey’s Café. Such a gorgeous way to start a Sunday morning.

I finished Bluey's cafe and what a lovely story Veronika! I loved how you used the diary entries, and your descriptive storytelling really took me to Australia and Bluey's life. ~ Susan.

All of my books are available from my website http://veronikarobinson.com/author/index.shtml, www.starflowerpress.com, Amazon, and all good bookshops.

Yoga pants and lentil soup

My younger daughter was chatting to me the other day about her ‘current’ plan to come a book acquisitions editor, and how she could even see herself wearing lovely business suits. I laughed and described my business attire from the late 1980s. Yes, you guessed it: high-heel shoes, padded shoulders, pencil skirts, permed hair (cringing as I write this).

These days, I go to work in my yoga pants (well, actually, I’m typing this in my pyjamas as I’ve not yet made it to the shower). Yesterday, I was thinking about how lovely it is to work from home, and that I set my own hours (I’m disciplined, so there’s no chance of me slacking) and can take breaks when I like: go to the movies, pop into the bookshop, go to the gym, walk through the woods with a friend, sit in the sunshine, hang out the washing…

The aroma of the root-vegetable and lentil soup I had on the stove made its way right through the house and up into my writing room. It sure smelt good. Unlike being in an office, I can eat lunch at 11am, noon or 3pm, depending on when I feel like eating, rather than when I am 'allowed' to eat. Ah, yes, how I love working from home. It also means that if the creative urge strikes at 4am I can either toss and turn or I can scamper upstairs and get to work. My autonomous working life suits me to the ground, and I can’t imagine ever having to go out to work for someone else again. 

If you dream of being self-employed, follow your heart.

Loss and creativity

As a culture, we’re not taught or modelled on how to cope with loss. Loss, of course, comes in many forms. There is life after gut-wrenching grief, and the way it shapes us can bring a depth to creativity which needs channelling in some way.

My father’s sudden death in a car accident 22 months ago, has influenced me in ways I could never have imagined. The engineering of my heart and soul is internal, of course, but the manifestation of those changes inevitably appears externally at some point. Our creative gifts beg to be shared with the world. In a way, this is the archetype of Chiron, the wounded healer.

It is an essential part of the human experience to experience loss, to endure the descent, and then to rise again. We discover that there is something more to us. Our authentic self must learn to show its face without apology.

One of the defining moments of my life was standing by my dead father’s body as he lay in his casket. I held his hand and thanked him for all the hard work he’d done in his lifetime. I said my words out loud, and the tears fell freely. Even to this day, there is a part of my mind which can’t quite reconcile how hard he worked (pioneering mining expeditions and leading 2000 men in the wild jungles of Papua and New Guinea) and that he’s now gone. He’s nothing but ashes. What was the point of all those years of working away from the family home? What was the point of working so hard like that when at the end of his life there is nothing to show for it?

His death has triggered two things in me which are, ironically, diametrically opposed. One is that there is no point stressing over anything: deadlines, faulty relationships, other people’s opinions, bank account balance and all the other mundane things about living on this earth. Part of me has felt like it is pointless having any ambition. After all, what am I actually striving for?

And then, right in opposition is a part of me that has more life in me than ever…a part of me which wants to continue to make the most of every precious day on this Earth. In appreciation of all this, it means living in the present moment, of course…but from within that particular gift comes the rising energy to explore the world, literally and metaphorically. I am thrilled to be alive! And yet, I am not scared of dying. When my times comes - whether it is slowly and with consciousness, or sudden - I will embrace that particular adventure.

Loss has brought meaning to my life, and it has released a creative spark which I guess was always there but for one reason or another has lain dormant all these years. Creatively, I’m not here to please my parents, my friends, my immediate family…just myself. I have, after all these years, come to realise that my creative juices don’t need anyone’s approval. The release of psychic energy that brings is huge. And I owe it to what has so far been the greatest loss of my life: a parent.

Clearing the Decks

Wow, what a busy start to 2014. I have several things on my list of goals for the year, and by January 3^rd, three of them had happened. Amazing! And trust me, they weren’t ‘little’ goals, either. The angels were genuinely paying attention when I wrote that heart-felt list on New Year’s Eve. No doubt the new Moon in Capricorn (my Sun sign) spurred things along on New Year's day.

I have sold The Mother magazine, and am preparing to focus on writing fiction full-time and building up my publishing business, Starflower Press, by specialising in illustrated children’s books. I still have several non-fiction books inside me (and partially written) that I intend to finish at some point, too. For now, I feel I have all the time in the world...and that feels pretty darn wonderful.

In the meantime, have promised myself time off after twelve years of working virtually seven days a week….but old habits die hard, and I can feel myself simply itching to ‘get to work’. Rest, I tell myself. You need it! A well-rested field gives a beautiful crop. I need to nourish, nurture, and ‘feed’ my soul if I expect anything useful to grow from my creative depths. If motherhood has taught me anything, it is this: fill your own well first.

My goals for the next month include: nurturing myself through walking in the woods (is this rain ever going to stop?) with my friend Sarah, meeting my friend Julia for a coffee, going to the movies with my husband, seeing a kinesiologist, and reading some novels.

I will have no doubt written about this before, either on a blog or in The Mother, but for years and years I didn’t read novels. It always felt like too much pleasure, and if I was going to sit on my butt (or laze in bed) reading for hours on end, then it damn well had to be educational. Non-fiction only!

I read voraciously as a teenager, devouring romance novels ~ such a wonderful antidote to boring secondary school. I would read them in my bedroom when I was supposed to be studying and doing homework. Then I’d hear my mum walking up the hallway and I’d shove the knight in shining armour into the drawer and bury my head into a biology textbook and studiously examine how to dissect a frog. Talk about going from princes to frogs! Over time, the guilt built up and up…and so for the majority of my adult life I denied myself the pleasure of reading fiction.

It was a few years back, when my adrenals crashed (too much stress from a personal issue) that I was bed bound and too exhausted to do anything. My daughters, bless them, bought me a whole stack of second-hand romance novels from a charity shop. I felt like I’d come back home. A dear friend laughs that I can read such ‘cheap’ fiction and yet have bookshelves filled with weighty esoteric tomes that absorb me for hours and stretch the grey matter. Ah, what can I say? I’m a woman of many parts. The truth is: the romance-novel genre is the most popular of all fiction, and for damn good reason: it’s a wonderful source of pleasure, and, unlike chocolate, it’s fat free!

I have to thank my first novel, Mosaic, for opening me up to the possibility that I could actually make a career out of writing fiction. I can’t begin to express how exciting my future feels. I feel all giddy like a little girl at Christmas, and oh how I love Christmas.

I will never again deny myself the pleasure of reading or writing fiction.

The full-time writer

Winter's morning from my writing desk

Popping my head above the keyboard (and this neglected blog) to say that I have now sold The Mother magazine, a job I have loved for the past twelve years, and once the transition is over in a few weeks, I will be working full-time as a novelist. I intend to be more active in my blogging once my time has freed up, and I look forward to sharing my journey with you.

www.veronikarobinson.com

Bluey’s Café

Bluey Miller lives a charmed life in Calico Bay, a small rural town on the east coast of Australia. She built her popular wholefood café from nothing, and it has garnered a well-deserved reputation for world foods. When her mother dies, Bluey discovers that there was far more to her mother’s life than she’d realised. Why so many secrets? As she begins to unravel her mother’s past, she’s left wondering about their relationship. They had been so close over the years, yet now Bluey feels like she didn’t know her at all. Her very identity hangs by a thread. Who am I? she wonders. Who was my mother?

Seemingly insurmountable challenges lie ahead, and Bluey must face them without her mother by her side. She finds strength from her local community and daily nourishment from the welcoming atmosphere of her café, but is this enough? Drawing succour from the Australian bushland around her, friendships, emerging spirituality, a life-changing romance, and the memories of good mother love, Bluey must somehow find enough courage to allow the best of the past to become the foundation for her future.

Bluey’s Café is Veronika’s second novel. She lives in rural Cumbria, UK, with her husband and their teenage daughters. www.veronikarobinson.com

Cover illustration by Sara Simon www.sarasimon.co.uk

Published by www.starflowerpress.com and available online, or from www.themothermagazine.co.uk or, from December, Amazon and all good bookshops.

ISBN 978-0-9575371-2-5

Published by Starflower Press

www.starflowerpress.com

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the

British Library.

Starr Meneely's What a Lovely Sound!

One of the joys of being a writer is being able to celebrate other writers. Do have a look at this trailer for Starr Meneely's wonderful new children's book (illustrated by Susan Merrick) called What a Lovely Sound! It is published by Starflower Press. www.starflowerpress.com

I love the story and the artwork, and can't wait to share it with some of my favourite children!

http://youtu.be/sJzj7NH9_Sc

 

The Isolated Writer

Writing is a lonely job, or so it is said. I don’t feel lonely when I write. How could I possibly be lonely when there is a gorgeous male character inhabiting my head space? Nope, loneliness does not feature in my (fiction) writing. Finding someone to share the craft with, however, could possibly feel isolating for some writers. The world is full of blocked creatives: people who want to create something but don’t, usually out of fear of rejection or criticism. Such people are dangerous to have around your creative life because their jealousy becomes a dagger of destructive critique based on their own inadequacies. Stay clear of such people, or at least keep them well away from your creative life.

In my life I am blessed with a handful of women with whom I feel safe to share my raw writing work. One, in particular, is a gifted singer-songwriter, and it brings me such joy when―despite us living in different countries―at the click of a button we can share each other’s work: I ping my chapters to her, and she pings me back MP3s of her latest songs. It’s magic! I dance in the composite energy of our creative outpourings.

Regardless of our journey in life, or whether we pursue a creative path or not, we all seek to have someone witness our story, our life, our path. I, for one, am very grateful to have the witnesses that I do. Alone, as a writer, yes. Lonely, no.

The Writing Rhythm

For quite some time, my writing rhythm involved waking up early and having a few hours of writing time before my family woke up. But for the past few weeks, everything has been turned on its head. My formerly home-schooled daughters started school (A levels and GCSEs), and so my mornings haven’t been about writing and watching the sunrise over the fells outside my window: they’ve been about making delicious school lunches, porridge with cinnamon and cranberries, and ironing uniforms.

I have missed my writing enormously, and have to reconsider how I start the school day. Now, it might seem obvious to some: write during the day when they’re at school. The truth is that that isn’t an option for me. Once the rest of the world wakes up, phones start ringing, emails demand answering, and other diversions intrude into the mind of a writer. By day, I’m a magazine editor. My job is looking at other people’s writing, not my own. Nope, there is only one time of the day which truly works for me when writing imagination-based work: pre-sunrise.

The same imagination required to write, now has to be utilised to clear my early mornings and keep them free for my sacred space. Perhaps my 17 and 15-year-old daughters should be making their own breakfast and lunches, and doing their own ironing. The answer was in front of my eyes the whole time! Somehow, though, I can’t see them getting out of bed any earlier to undertake such creative and sacred nurturing tasks.  

Lightning Fingers

My fingers type at the speed of lighting, which is handy. My thoughts are quick, and to be able to get my ideas on paper as quickly as they rush through my head is quite a gift. It hasn’t always been like this. In secondary school, my typing teacher (Mrs Hoffman) used to hit my knuckles with a wooden ruler when she caught me looking at the keys. Cow!

It didn’t stop me, and eventually she put a bib over the keyboard so I could learn to type without looking at the keys. That didn’t work either, so she went back to the wooden ruler. Needless to say, I quit typing class. I valued my knuckles!

Several years later, I began work on my local newspaper as a reporter. Now, here’s the thing. You can not be a two-fingered typist if you want to survive in the world of journalism. Somewhere between day one of phoning the emergency services for news stories and the next Monday when my first story made the front page (whoop whoop!), my typing speed increased enormously.

I watch my husband, a slow, two-fingered typist, and it’s like watching a bull stuck in quick-sand. It’s painful. I feel ill. I’m desperate to help. 

Typing is my friend. As a writer, I'd be lost without it. 

The key to touch typing is to place your little fingers on the a and the colon buttons, ring fingers on s and l, middle fingers on d and k. Those fingers hit those keys AND the ones above and below. The pointer finger is king. He’s in charge of six keys (per finger). He’s The Power.

Left pointer finger is in charge of f, g, r, t, v and b. The right is in charge of j, h, u, y, m and n. 

If you make it a practice to keep your eight fingers sitting on the middle keys, and only use the right fingers on the correct keys, then in no time your typing speed will increase. Don’t be like Mrs Hoffman and get caught into believing you can’t look at the keyboard. In time, you won’t need to look at it because you’ll feel comfortable. Typing will be rote (like driving a car).

The Love Dilemma

After I finished writing my second novel, Bluey’s Café, I decided to develop a career as a romance novelist. Why? I spent my teenage years reading romance novels. I could read a Mills and Boon in two hours, and they saved me from the boredom of secondary school. For whatever people might think of this genre, the truth is that it’s the best selling genre of all. People want love. They need love. If they don’t have it in their lives, then they want to live it through someone else. And even if their relationship is brilliant, it can’t hurt to enjoy the pleasure of sharing in someone else’s love journey, can it?

My dilemma as a romance writer is this: when I met my husband, Paul, it was ‘I’ve known you forever at first sight’. We literally moved in with each other next day. We simply ‘knew’. There was no long engagement, nor dancing around the dating scene for months on end. Nope, not us. We knew we had ‘found’ each other, and immediately wanted to create a family.

Now, I’m rather fond of our love at first sight/you’re-my-soul-mate story, but this just doesn’t work in romance novels (well, I let it work in my novel Bluey’s Café). A romance novel needs drama and tension and hurdles to overcome. Sheesh, aren’t there enough of those in life anyway? Can’t they just get together like Paul and I did, and then face the drama, shoulder to shoulder? Nope!

Our romance novel lovers have to face challenges before they get together, and then they live happily ever after. Romance lovers don’t have dramas once we’ve finally hooked them up!

I began my first novel specifically for the romance market on May 16^th this year. Since then, my days have revolved around the stories in my head, and the drama of the characters. I’ve almost finished writing my fourth novel of this sort.  I have ideas for an assortment of novels, but for now, the romance ones have taken centre stage in my writing head. They are what get me bouncing out of bed each morning before sunrise. It is my duty to take these characters beyond their egos and into the arms of love. 

The Power of the Written Word

We all have that little something that we’re passionate about. For me, that is communication. You’d think with the advent of modern technology such things as laptops, emails, and so on, would make the life of a communicator a bit of a breeze. Far from it.

Most of human communication comes from our body language. Without it, the recipient of our words doesn’t get the gist of whether we’re happy, sad, joyful, thoughtful, apprehensive, joking and so forth.

I hate emails. I despise them as a form of communication. Sure, they’re quick. And yes, you can keep in touch with people from all over the world without relying on Royal Mail or planes/ships to carry your precious words, but there is SO MUCH missing from the message that relationships can be tarnished. Many people have fallen out over a wrongly worded (but more accurately, wrongly interpreted) message.

When we receive a communication, we bring ‘baggage’ to it so that regardless of what the sender was implying, the recipient will see the message through their own eyes (pain/agenda).

I remember in 2001, a dear friend phoning me from Latin America and asking me if I had email. ‘I don’t need email,’ I laughed. A year later I was editing and publishing The Mother magazine, and emails were part of my daily life. At first, it was fun. Now, it’s a drag.

Two days away from my inbox brings me a karmic load for daring to be away from a computer for so long. The inbox groans and heaves with so much correspondence all demanding my immediate reply. It gets to the point that I can’t even log onto Facebook for a quick nosey at what my friends are up to without feeling huge guilt for knowing there are dozens of emails waving their little red flags up at me.

There is always the dilemma of a box full of emails: who to read first? That one from a dear friend travelling the world or the one querying a subscription? The one from a friend who is struggling or the one wanting advice about their teething toddler?

Where possible, I try and reply to emails first thing in my day when I’m well rested. The day brings so much my way through family, friends, strangers, and all their needs, that I find it best to steer away from written communication at the end of the day when I’m tired (or feeling particularly hormonal!).

I love the written word, and take great care to ensure that I communicate as clearly as I can. What I have learnt, though, over the years, is that there is no such thing as perfect communication. We can never have ‘control’ over how someone perceives our message. The best we can ever hope for is to write from the heart, and to always come from a place of love.

K

Today’s blog is brought to you by the letter ‘k’.

My keyboard is missing the top button above the k. Very inconvenient when your name is Veronika, and you have to type it dozens of times a day when signing off emails. Now, the ‘k’ is still accessible, but it requires a much firmer approach than my touch typing needs for the speed at which I navigate my keyboard. However, over time, muscle memory has made hitting that key, at three to four times the strength needed for every other letter of the alphabet, instinctive. One of my daughters (also a writer) refuses to use my laptop because of said ‘k’.

One day, I’ll have a new laptop and a new ‘k’….and I’ll have to retrain that finger to be gentle…ever so gentle and quick, like the other fingers and thumbs.

We’re funny, us humans. We can get used to all sorts of things, and to retrain ourselves. Often, the only thing that stands in the way of progress is our determination or lack of it. My missing ‘k’ has taught me a lot.

Writer's Block

I can't say that writer's block is something I experience. The limitations I have are due to time, family and other unavoidable commitments ~ oh, and a job! To make the most of uninterrupted writing time, I wake up very early, feed the cats, and head to my laptop.

There are times, though, when I come up against a pause in my story line and wonder which direction to go with it. I know better than to sit at a computer screen when I reach such a crossroad. I head to the shower. 

Hot steamy water is relaxing, and also changes the brain waves. Ten minutes in the shower always gifts me with the ideas I need in order to make progress. 

The other antidote to writer's pause is to walk in nature. It never fails to ignite stories, character habits and qualities, and plot twists. The world around us is rich with ideas, and we need to immerse ourselves in it if we wish to find our writing voice.

lost for words

My writing blog has been neglected because I've been....writing! I recently finished my fifth novel. Now for the editing. I shall return soon.

hoorah!

I finished the first draft of my fourth novel this morning. Hoorah! Such an amazing feeling to bring my characters to completion. I can now leave them at their happily ever after (after a few edits!), and find another couple to bring together. I love my life. I kinda like this whole playing matchmaker game.....

Boundaries and Nurturing

Today's Full Moon in Capricorn is a Super Moon. This means it is very close to the Earth.

What does it mean when the Moon is full in Capricorn?

Capricorn is about structure and boundaries, and defining territory. Its opposite sign, Cancer, is about nurturing, protection and mothering. 

When we have a Full Moon it illuminates the shadow side of both zodiac signs.

So what message can you take from this particular Full Moon? In order to be an effective care-taker (mother or other nurturer) ensure you have firm boundaries in place so that you, and those being taken care of, do not feel violated or that you don't end up feeling like a martyr.

Take the best of both signs, and make them work for you.

Passionate, fun, dynamic, love-filled, joyous...

Have you found your passion in life?

Do you love waking up each morning ready to live life fully? You do? GREAT!

Would you like to understand your children better? Would you love for them to be guided to what is already in their hearts?

Psychological astrology shines a laser light onto our birth chart, revealing what the soul has come to Earth to learn. It shows our learning style, what drives us, where we feel fearful and inhibited, and so much more.

To book an astrology session for yourself or your child (in person at my home in Cumbria, or by phone to anywhere in the world), visit: http://www.themothermagazine.co.uk/astrology.shtml

The Writer's View

‘Mum, why did you google Breast Cancer Hospitals this morning?’ my daughter asked.

‘Snooping in my search history, were you?’ I laughed. ‘I’m a writer. Don’t judge me by anything that I google! It’s all in the name of research.’