From Loneliness to Love: Daily Meditations from The Book of Ruth

I'm happy to say I have a new book out, especially for women. Because we're worth it!...

From Loneliness to Love: Daily Meditations from The Book of Ruth: a series of daily meditations from the Book of Ruth, written especially for women.

Each day focuses on a section of this incredibly moving story, highlights the main themes arising from the passage and ends with a prayer to help you grow closer to God.

Subjects for meditation and prayer include grief, hope, trust and love.

Buy the ebook at Amazon

It costs 99p as an ebook.

Buy the paperback at Amazon

It costs £2.99 as a paperback.

Happy reading!

Anne Brooke: Biblical Fiction

Dear God, It's All Gone Horribly Wrong: Prayers for Stressed Christians

I'm happy to say that my new prayer book, Dear God, It's All Gone Horribly Wrong: Prayers for Stressed Christians, is now available at Amazon, and it's FREE for Kindle Unlimited subscribers!

Being a Christian in the modern world can be very stressful indeed. Everyone either thinks we're having a wonderful time with our marvellous, mysterious God, or they think we're fools for believing in a faith that surely died a death in the twentieth century ... 

In both scenarios, the negative feelings, stress and depression frequently experienced by today’s Christian tend to be ignored, not least by one’s fellow Christians. However, in actual fact, God never discounts or ignores anyone. With this in mind, here are one hundred prayers which tell it like it is to God so that even the worst about us is brought out into the open. At the same time, the fact that God listens to all our prayers, no matter how angry, bitter or sad, is a beacon of hope for us all. 

May God travel with us more closely on our prayer journeys. 


Happy reading and happy praying!

Anne Brooke Books
Biblical Fiction UK

Thirty Ways to Pray Without Really Praying

My newest spiritual book, Thirty Ways to Pray Without Really Praying, is now available on Amazon. And you don't have to be religious or even pray at all to get something out of it!

Thirty Ways to Pray Without Really Praying is a spiritual book designed to help you draw closer to your inner self, whether you pray regularly or not at all. It provides one activity for you to do every day for a month, and will help you focus on the things that are important to you. Happy praying (without really praying at all)!


Happy reading!

Anne Brooke Books
Biblical Fiction UK
The Gathandrian Fantasy Trilogy

Dancing with Lions

I'm pleased to say that my biblical short story, Dancing with Lions, is published today and you can pick up a copy here - though I'm afraid you'll have to be patient as, for some reason, the links to Smashwords take an age to click through.

While you're waiting, you can read an extract from the beginning of the story and also enjoy the book trailer. Never say I'm not kind to you, and have a truly fabulous Friday!

Anne Brooke

Shrikes and Fruit

Great bird news this week! We've finally - after about four or five attempts and many miles covered - spotted a Great Grey Shrike on our trip to the New Forest yesterday, hurrah. Such a beautiful bird and a real pleasure to see. Especially as we'd just given up and were returning to the car when suddenly there it was. Bliss. A lifetime first. Two other lifetime firsts yesterday were the black-throated diver and the scaup. Triple huzzahs then! And we also added to our year bird count with a Dartford warbler, a little grebe, grey plovers, curlews, a Brent goose, sanderlings (hundreds of them) and a ringed plover. Big results all round indeed.

Other nice news is that How to Eat Fruit is now available at Amazon US in Kindle version. Ideal Valentine weekend reading, I'd say.

I'm also very pleased with a 4-star rating of Two Christmases on Goodreads - thanks, Jonathan. Very much appreciated, and so glad you enjoyed the read.

Finally, in Book World, Chapter Six of The Prayer Seeker's Journal is now uploaded and can be found here. In which Michael has his first experience of spiritual direction, which isn't entirely what he was expecting.

And here's this week's haiku:

Hidden amongst trees
crocus shoots point to the skies.
Deep green and slender.

Anne's website - always a fruitful place to be
The Prayer Seeker's Journal - finding its own direction

Frazzled of Godalming

Lordy, what a day. Totally exhausting but some moments were great. Seriously great. First off, I turned up at the University at 9am for 3 hours of Open Day cover with Laura from the Health Centre, who was wonderful company. Thank you, Laura. Meeting people and trying to sound normal isn't my favourite activity ever, but I think on the whole it went okay. Though there were one or two people who just stared at me as if I were an alien. Perhaps I am? That would explain a lot ... However, most students/parents were lovely. And the venue was better too - we were in the University Hall rather than Seasons Restaurant, so I could actually hear what people were saying, hurrah.

From there, I rushed to my car to gobble down a sandwich before driving to Kent. I started the car, turned towards the exit and the people carrier in front of me stopped. I stopped too, put on my handbrake and then said people carrier reversed right into me. Serious and loud groan ... Just what I needed at that point. Not. Big Not. We got out and exchanged details though there wasn't really any damage to either vehicle. We then got back in our cars and he tried to do it again. Arrggghhh!!! Believe me, the air in Rupert (my car) was blue. Very blue. However, this time the people carrier did manage to miss me - phew - and then drove off. Lord preserve us. Perhaps he'll get me third time???

Anyway, I then drove to Maidstone through what seemed like torrential rain and wind, which make the delights of the M25, the M26 and the M20 so much less attractive, you know. Once at Aylesford Priory - where I was meeting my friend for tea - I parked and attempted to ring the insurance company to report the incident. Ye gods, how many buttons do I have to press before I get to a real person??? Press 2 if your stress levels are low, 3 if they're high; press 1 if you have red hair and are sobbing, and 2 if you are over six feet tall and are too big to drive a Fiesta ... God preserve us indeed. When I finally got through to a very snippety lady, she said that reporting the incident would take me 20 minutes. When I said I couldn't afford 20 minutes as my friend was waiting in the tea room and could I just tell her the names and registration numbers and the time of the accident, she got even more snippety and said that would be impossible. Ye gods, how hard is it to write down 5 small pieces of information without making a song and dance about it??? In the end I told her not to bother and I'd ring the out-of-hours service later. Then I put the phone down. These days, frankly I can't be arsed to be pleasant.

Walking towards the tea-room, I was zinging with stress, but then Pauline (Kent friend) rushed up and gave me a huge hug, let me sound off for five minutes and then we had tea. Bliss. Sometimes it's just sooooo good to know someone who'll let me scream and shout without taking it personally. I'm a red-head. I survive by yelling. It doesn't mean anything. And after all that, Pauline and I had an absolutely wonderful and uplifting chat, which included airing and solving all known problems of both of us, and honestly it's just made me feel human again. Which doesn't happen often, I can tell you. If I were a lesbian, I'd probably marry her and have her babies, though Lord H - and indeed Mr Pauline - may well object to that life plan. Ah well.

Funny also how we can both really talk about God and church and stuff to each other in a way I'm not able to do with other people. We're both survivors (and yes I do use that word advisedly) of the same rather horrendous evangelical church experience, and we're both at the stage where we only go to church once a month or so and don't, under any circumstances, want to commit to anything more demanding than that. I think we feel we've been burned by the evangelical church and shuffled into a corner by the anglican one. Which leaves us both feeling a rather large spiritual (sorry for the "s" word, but it is what I mean and I don't think I can say it isn't) gap where the wind whistles through, and which isn't filled by any of the available offerings in our area. Lordy, but sometimes I long for a different type of church, and it's a real pull, but I have no idea towards what. I'm not even sure if it's been invented yet. Sigh.

Anyway, talking with Pauline made me feel more human, so I'm grateful for that. We're already planning our next get-together, hopefully before Christmas. And the drive home was better, if still rainy. Once home, I talked to the insurance company out-of-hours service who were lovely and took down all the information in 5 minutes. So, hell, it can be done. But, my dears, I am totally exhausted on all levels and only good for grunting and staring at the TV this evening. Don't give a damn what's on it either. So no change in any of that then ...

In fact, I feel very much like this picture - a weary figure hobbling up the stairs, though (trust me) I would be wearing clothes. But hey it's making me smile.






Today's nice things:

1. Some nice people at the open day
2. Talking to Pauline
3. TV and grunting
4. Naked men on stairs.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Groans and Bones

Was seriously pissed off when I was flicking through this week's copy of the "Church Times" yesterday. And I strongly suspect that they were pretty pissed off too - or at least that's the impression I got from the tone of the reporting, the editorial and one or two of the columnists. Not that they can come out (sorry - in advance ...) with anything very open, but the feeling was certainly there. For those 99% of you not in the know, yes we're all very pissed off about the US bishops back-tracking over whether priests can be gay or not. Or gay and active or not. Or gay and over 5 foot 7 inches tall or not. Or whatever the current U-turn is focused on. God knows, but we've all actually forgotten the so-called "arguments" as we're all really bored with them by now.

Listen to us, US Bishops: We really don't care who priests sleep with (though sticking to one, of whatever sex, would be preferable, I fear, for the soul - if I dare say such a thing in today's buy-one-get-six-free climate ...) as long as they have a hotline to God, a heart for the people and some kind of understanding of spirituality. Which latter three demands are surely far, far more onerous than where the hell you put your prick. So grow up, please, and stop backtracking on what you've previously decided. You have gay clergy already - which you know about and have accepted - so you shouldn't be allowed to go back on that acceptance now. For God's sake, which century do you think you're effing living in??!! It's the 21st century. Gay is normal. Straight is fine too. As is anything else on the scale along from each. So get over it already. There are other far more important issues to tackle. Please begin tackling them.

So that was Pissed-Off Moment Number One. Pissed-Off Moment Number Two came when I was reading the very good article about listening to people (such as ourselves) who've left church. The article was great - I have no bones to pick with the writer at all, and may indeed pick up one of his books at some stage, but I had every sympathy with his annoyance at those who categorise those who've left church as having "lost their faith". Along with him, I can quite agree that that's bollocks. Leaving church is nothing to do with losing faith. Honestly, it's so bloody patronising to hear people say it - and yes it has happened to me. And it pisses me off - I always hate being categorised in any case, and hearing smug churchgoers simper their "solution to the problem of me" between pursed lips and move on is enough to drive me to violence. Really, it's astonishing that there are any churchgoers left in Godalming at all, what with me roaming the streets snapping at their ankles ...

And speaking of which, why are churches so smug that they think only they have a single-track lane to God anyway? I never even thought that when I was a churchgoer - and I would certainly never accuse anyone of "losing their faith". Actually, I was always rather envious of the ones who had the courage to say "no" to socialised religion, and instead wondered what treasures they'd found elsewhere. Really, the further away I move from April (when I left church) and in spite of our intermittent and very non-committed churchgoing since, the more I wonder if in some ways the church has been left behind while God has moved on?

Ah, but if so, then where has the bugger gone?? As Lord H would say: ah, that's God for you. You just can't trust him.

Meanwhile, away with religious speculation and on to today! Lord H has taken himself off to Titchfield Haven to see if he can spot any spoonbills, but I've decided to stay at home and attempt a full recovery. Much as though I'd love to see a spoonbill (the unruly hair, the large beak - oh, dahhlings, they're so me!), I think staying in is best. Though I must also say I do feel better - and have so far only had one Lemsip today, so I'm doing well!

And whilst at home I've managed to scribble down another 1,500 words of The Bones of Summer - and ye gods but I've gone in a direction I never expected to take. A bloody surprise to me, but it makes sense, and is making my blood fizz - usually a good sign, so don't panic ... I'll run with it and see how the hell it pans out. Lord, but this writing game throws a good few shots distinctly left-field sometimes, but that's how I like it and how I get the most fun out of writing, so there are no complaints from me. That Craig though - ruddy dark horse. Characters, eh - you just can't trust them. Much like God really.

Tonight, I really have to do some cleaning (groan!) and then it appears to be Stephen Fry night on TV. Can't imagine more pleasant company however, so I'm up for it. You can't go far wrong with Fry.

Today's nice things:

1. Staying in
2. Writing
3. Getting cross enough about church to at least know something of where I might stand. Ho ho.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website

Pessimism and the search for happiness

Gosh, great title, eh? That'll have 'em lining the bookshops ... Anyway, after last night’s book club joy, I came down to earth very rapidly at getting yet another rejection for Maloney’s Law. Deep sigh. Admittedly, it was from a publisher I assumed had already rejected it, but there you go. So, it’s now only out with one US publisher – if they say no, I’m throwing in the towel on the commercial front, I think, as it’s coming up to two years in the market for that one now. Shame really, as it’s been shortlisted for the most awards of all my novels. But I am heartened by the hope that perhaps it might find its way into Goldenford’s (http://www.goldenford.co.uk/) lists at some stage over the next year or so, depending on what my fellow directors say. Mind you, our future publication list is getting longer (which is great!) so I don’t know when that might be.

I had a long chat with Lord H last night when he came back from theology class about why it is that we both admit to being a lot happier and more optimistic about life ‘n’ stuff in our late twenties and throughout our thirties, but now we’re in our forties, all that seems to be slipping away. Is it age? A growing cynicism? Or something more sinister? It’s a mystery really. But I do tend to stare out of my office window whilst at the university and watch all those young 20s walking by and I envy them utterly. Not that I’d want to be that age again – I wouldn’t; it was horrendous. But I envy the sense of optimism I had then and which they must have now about life being hopeful and being able to do anything you might want. One day. That’s the feeling I have less and less these days. And my moments of pure happiness are fewer too. I remember feeling happy whilst at the Japanese Garden in Kew, or at the National Trust house we went to recently, or looking at the blossom on the trees, but it doesn’t stay long and doesn’t come often. And I’m sure I used to have those happy, hopeful moments far more often when younger – even when I was going through hell. Weird really. I don’t know the answer to it.

All this has been sparked off by my reading of Authentic Happiness, my current self-help book. It’s really making me think – I’ve done the Optimism/Pessimism tests and was shocked to find that (far from being optimistic, which I’d hoped to be at heart – somewhere …?), I’m actually a Moderate Pessimist. I’m sure I wouldn’t have been that in my 20s … I was so worried that I actually mentioned this to the boss today, thinking he might express surprise, but he didn’t, darn it. Though he did try to reassure me by saying he didn’t think I was an Extreme Pessimist. Ah well.

Either way, Lord H and I have decided that, although we like being together and couldn’t imagine the alternative, we don’t actually like life that much. Not as a concept anyway. And actually God isn’t proving a barrel of laughs at the moment either. So we’ve decided we should try being outdoors more as, at the very least, if we’re still unhappy, then we’ll be outside being unhappy, rather than inside being miserable. If you see what I mean. We might even draw up a list of what we like doing and try doing more of those sorts of things to cheer ourselves up. (Steady there, at the back ...!)

Hey ho. Life in sunny Godalming is a laugh a minute, I can tell you!

Anyway, I’ve busied myself with catching up at work, and looking at the Health Centre website again, with a view to changing it. At last! And we’ve finally got notification through that the Lead Doctor has resigned. Heck, he was on sabbatical last year and never came back, but nobody would talk about it. I sooo hate that when that happens – honestly, the educational world is getting more like the commercial one every day – much to its detriment in some ways. It's inhumane, as far as I can see. But I for one would have liked to say a proper goodbye to the Good Doctor and am sad – and disappointed – that the powers that be have chosen to do this. Sticks in the gullet rather. Anyway, I’ve sent our former colleague a goodbye and good luck email – hope he gets it somehow.

Had my next reflexology session at lunchtime. Bliss – as ever. I felt really calm afterwards. Where would I be without it? Goodness knows. Next time – which, due to diaries, turns out to be in early June, dammit! – I’m going to try some Reiki, as I am hoping to achieve a new sense of balance and harmony. Pause for cynical comment – but I won’t make one this time, as I’m too pessimistic already, ha!

However, my day has been cheered by a rare sighting of two very hot men on campus - one who opened a door for me this morning (delicious sigh ...) and another, with glorious red hair, this afternoon. More delicious sighing and joy! It's so rare that totty is sighted at work and it's a pleasure to see it now and again. They're obviously raising the standards of meeting attenders in educational circles. Hurrah! Hell, maybe it is the menopause after all ...

Oh, and Laura Wilkinson from Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/lauracwilkinson) – who works with the HagsHarlotsHeroines site (http://www.hagsharlotsheroines.com/) is thoroughly enjoying A Dangerous Man (http://www.flamebooks.com/) and would like to do an interview with me for the HHH site. Thank you hugely, Laura – looking forward to that for sure!

Tonight, I’m off to the pub seeing Jane H and Tanya, which I’m looking forward to. A girls’ night out, but locally and with only two people. Bliss!

Today’s nice things:

1. Reflexology
2. Laura W’s enthusiasm for ADM
3. Seeing the gals.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com/

Counselling and time for thought

A very intense counselling session with Kunu today, but a worthwhile one too. She's halfway through "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) and is finding it "gripping", so that felt nice. We talked about family and my place in it - a subject we looked at briefly last week, but in more depth today. To be honest, I got rather tearful about it but even that felt like a good place to be. A couple of times towards the end of our hour, I couldn't talk at all, as I needed to mull on stuff - but Kunu's okay with that. It's good to have somewhere where I can be silent. God, how I need that sometimes. Not that my family was an obviously difficult place to be - we were well-off, we lived in the country or, later, a nice part of the town, we took foreign holidays, etc etc. All facts which make it more difficult to look back and think that, yes, it may have been good, but it wasn't good for me.

I think it would have been better if I'd been able, at all, to get on for any length of time with my two older brothers - or they with me - but that never happened. And, no, we don't talk now. We haven't for years. My decision - it was the right one to take at the time (though the most difficult decision I've ever had to make) and it's still the right one now. And, yes, that makes me - on the outside - the cause of the family split, but at the same time I think it helps me (slowly, so slowly ...) to work towards wholeness. I don't think either of them have ever, apart from one or two notable and short-lived occasions, been my friends. And, in fact, today I would probably count both as my enemies - though it's an animosity that's been very subtly demonstrated over the years. What I remember from my childhood relationship with my siblings is a fairly constant sniping, the assumption that I was unworthy of notice and a good stooge for mockery. I also felt, particularly after my father died, that there was nobody prepared to fight my corner and I was essentially alone. I suspect that might be natural in families (fathers favour daughters, and mothers sons - hey, 'twas ever thus!), but it doesn't make it any easier to live in the environment, believe me. It might have been easier though if I'd actually made any friends at primary school, but I hadn't worked out the trick of doing that yet (that came with secondary school, thank God). The scrawny child in the playground corner? Yep, that's me. Ye gods, and then people wonder at my lack of self-esteem. Being myself with somebody else is the most difficult thing. Almost impossible. Sometimes I'm astonished when I can relate to people at all.

So, as you can see - intensive, which has made it a day for thought. And recovering from the feeling that I've just taken two steps over the bloody trenches with only an overwhelming need to discover where I left my self, and a counsellor, for company. Interesting too, that in my slow drift from the counselling session to where I'd parked a car, I met a friend coming the other way who'd also been to his counselling session. A fact about each other neither had known before. God, but Guildford is full of headcases. But on the whole we're harmless. I hope.

At home, I've flipped idly through the Radio Times, whilst sipping my decaff coffee. It felt like being normal. Which I've needed this afternoon. I've been thinking too. About how the times when I've felt most happy in myself have come from my christianity, and my relationship with Lord H. And with one or two friends when I can let the mask slip a little. No, I don't like that language. Sorry. The mask is part of me too. Something I use and dwell in. It's more like allowing another layer to surface and to exist for a while in a conversation, I think. It's happened with Jane W and Jane H, and one or two others from my past, but no-one else that I can remember. At least not face-to-face. I find it's easier to be me to the people I know only through the means of writing. It feels like a truer medium there. Most of my conversations otherwise are entertainment, not connection.

Neither is God the connection I so longed for him to be when I made my commitment when I was 18. No. Not true either. It worked for a while, but I think I was covering the issues, not dealing with them. Not that I could have dealt with them then on any level - it's only now that there seems to be time and space to think. Maybe, when I finally walked away from Evangelical christianity (I count myself as an Evangelical survivor, in so many ways) when I was 28 was in fact my first real step to adulthood, I don't know. Since then, God has become mistier, more unclear and so very uncertain. And I've tried so hard to pretend that's not so. Now, I gain every so often a sense of connection with him, but it's as if I'm walking along a path by myself which is lined by very thick woods. Now and then, there's a movement in the woods, and I sense someone might be there other than myself, but I can't see anything, not really, and the silence soons comes again. God, to me, is like that. For me, anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

In the middle of all this, I have done a few more words to "The Gifting". And yes, Simon does get sea-sick. I'm good at vomit. Tonight, I was supposed to be (a) going up to London to a Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) get-together, or (b) going dancing with my non-existent dance partner, but I'm doing neither. Tonight I need to be at home. With Lord H. Watching TV and resting. God, yes, that will be good.

Today's nice things:

1. Counselling
2. Talking briefly with the friend I met in Guildford
3. Thinking.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Space for me and my men

Bloody hell, but that was a valuable weekend. I'd been dreading it beforehand thinking: should I go? should I stay at home? can I get to Bristol (and back) in one piece? But I'm glad I made the effort. And yes I made it through the wind and rain and lorries, and I'm back now. With my usual post-travel headache, but feeling something's changed inside. Which can only be a good thing.

So, Enneagram 2 - me and my relationships was the focus. On the technical side, as a Moody Romantic 4 (the Enneagram circle has nine numbers which you have greater or lesser leanings towards - I'm a 4), I've found out about how I can use my Loner neighbour (5 - the number which I do think Lord H is, by the way, but it's up to each person to work it out for themselves, so it's only my opinion!) and my Movie Star neighbour (3) in circumstances where that will be helpful, and also how my strongest links in times of stress & security are to the Perfectionist 1 and the Helper 2. And thinking about it, I do love so much to be at home (like a 5) so I can recharge, and I also do perform in public (like a 3), probably as a defence mechanism. Also, I think that when I'm stressed, I get obsessive about why things aren't perfect in some circumstances, and on flattering people so they don't attack me in others. Both of which actions are like the 1 and the 2 on the circle. Same with the security points really - when I'm feeling safe, I like the feeling of being in control (like a 1) and I also feel better able to help others (like a 2). Ye gods, Sherlock, it's all beginning to make sense. To me anyway.

Oh, and being a 4, I do love talking about myself, which explains the last paragraph - welcome to Anne's ego trip. Enjoy the ride ...

But far and away the best part of the weekend was what I feel I got out of the meditation/body work sessions (they focus on the combination of the physical and the spiritual at Emmaus House, which is something I appreciate). During the two meditations, we were asked to focus on our inner self and to hold that self with love and care. Not something I do very often, if I'm honest. For a while, I didn't really know what I was supposed to be doing, but then it came to me that it wasn't just me in that space. It was Michael too. And someone else. Which (in my tradition and understanding) I'd probably call God, but other people might call something else. The question I was asking, and which Michael was asking too, was: did I do okay? is it enough? And the answer was: yeah, you did good. It's enough. And then an overwhelming feeling of acceptance. No. More than that. Affirmation. Sounds simple, I know, but always the big question hanging over me in everything I do has been: is it good enough? am I good enough? And after five years of struggle with the book, the question becomes too huge to lose even on publication, believe me. To have it answered at least in terms of "A Dangerous Man" (http://www.flamebooks.com) and Michael in a way that means something to me and on a deep level is frankly revolutionary.

It also, I think, has freed something up in me in the way I've tried to ignore Michael and the Michael parts of me in my attempts to relate to God. After this weekend, I feel more that God might actually see the whole picture and not be as surprised or afraid of it as I am. Maybe (just maybe, mind ...) when that great supreme being in the sky looks at me, he already sees Michael, and Paul, and Simon, and ... whoever, as well and is even pleased that I've begun to acknowledge them too. Maybe even they can be part of the plan. Bloody hell, eh?...

Well. Phew. A lot to be pondering on, as you can see. But there were some lighter moments along the way - including having an ensuite room which had a toilet with only one wall between it and the window. And, um no other cover, not even a door. So, as Lord H said on the phone, more of an "en" than a "suite". I had to be jolly careful not to lean forward after getting off the throne (as it were) or everyone on the Bristol highway had a prime view of my unmentionables. Which may explain the amount of shrieking that appeared to go on at 2am on Saturday morning. Perhaps the Bristol youth were letting off steam at the horror of it all ...

Back home, I have yet to face the unpacking, but Lord H has done some cleaning (what a superhero - he now has huge numbers of Husband Points), so I'll leave it till next week. What a slut I am indeed. And tonight, it's "Lewis" on TV, so a slob-out opportunity. Hurrah.

Ooh, and for the first time, I've won the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) Flash Fiction II weekly competition with my "Another Time, Another Place" story, so that's a nice feeling for sure. And it means I have to set next week's competition - aha! the power! the power! My Enneagram 4 ego is loving it, dahlings!

This week's haiku:

Gravel and water,
sunlight, birdsong, a cool wind:
time and space to breathe.

This weekend's nice things:

1. Having space with Michael and God
2. The unexpected sense of peace
3. Laughing at the toilet arrangements.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Failed roasts & tax returns

Hey, never let it be said that I don't know how to party. Actually Lord H & I were appalling layabouts today and didn't actually get out of bed till gone 10.30am, and weren't capable of answering the door to anyone (at least not decently washed and with clothes on) till gone midday. Shocking behaviour. We decided the Finger of God would indeed point and find us wanting, but if we whispered, He might not hear us. Let's hope He doesn't read blogs then ...

However, we redeemed ourselves in the afternoon. Lord H nobly filled in my tax return (thus earning him at least 50,000 Husband Points - and, hey, Points mean Prizes! - for the year to come) and discovered that Gordon Brown owes me £120 due to general governmental cock-ups over my tax code. Mean bugger. I shall be straight round there on Tuesday demanding what's mine. Probably worth watching the news then in that case. And I sorted out our cars and attempted for the second time to cook a decent roast lunch. Which happened - again - to be lamb. Um, that'll be another failure then - is lamb supposed to be that pink? Really? Ye gods. We could have had starring roles in TV's recent adaption of "Dracula" and not have needed the skills of the make-up department. Suffice it to say that I will never again cook roast lamb, as I obviously have no talent for it. And Lord H is in charge of tomorrow's roast turkey for sure.

Oh, and I made a concerted effort and managed to squeeze out another 1000 words to "The Gifting". Funny how these ideas float around my head and they never actually make it onto the page. At least not how I envisage them. Do all writers have this terrible gap between imagination and reality? Hell, don't answer that - it may well just be me. Still, I can only do my best.

This sudden burst of activity has been followed by a much-needed nap and my usual bout of end-of-year depression: comprising of (a) oh God, I haven't done half the things I dreamed of this year and there's only five hours left to do them (b) there's only one full holiday day left and I have to drag myself to work again on Tuesday, and this week off has been such an okay time and I hate the thought of leaving it. So bloody much! However, the good news is that Lord H and I are being Class A Party Poopers tonight and are staying in and not even bothering to stay up. We have half a bottle of champagne in the fridge which we will have with a mince pie and rum butter (made earlier today - I remembered!) later on before turning in with our fluffy dressing gowns and slippers. Bliss indeed. This is so definitely the way we prefer to spend New Year's Eve - I hope I can make it a tradition.

And I've just finished Tim Cantopher's "Depressive Illness: the curse of the strong". First-class stuff. If you're depressed, or know someone who is, I can highly recommend it. Short, practical and clear - what more could you want?

This week's (and the end of year's even ...) haiku is:

Poems are for trains:
the rise and fall; the rhythm;
the lilt of the track.

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope 2007 will be good to us all.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Escape from church and more Booker pain

Actually went to church today to do Sacristan duties - hey, at least I'm showing willing - but couldn't face staying to the service. Too many people - ruddy baptisms, how I hate children and babies!! - which always puts me off, and I didn't think I'd last the course without screaming. Church is really beginning to get me down - but it feels as if there's no point in saying it to anyone there as (a) I don't have an in-depth relationship with anyone, and (b) sometimes they're part of the problem. Why do we do the same things week in, week out, but get no closer to God? I'm fed up with the apparent emptiness of the ritual. I think Lord H and I are going to try another church next week - not that I'm that confident that the solution for me is in church at all. Sometimes I find that services just keep God at bay. And sometimes it feels as if - when I'm brave enough to let myself - I can long for Him so much without any hope of fulfilment. Ye gods, there must be another, better way of trying to relate to the Almighty.

The rest of the morning, I did more work on "The Gifting" with my key naming scene. 71,000 words now, thank the Lord. Though I do always prefer the even numbers ... And I logged in for a while to the Rejesus (http://www.rejesus.co.uk) site and did their daily prayer. It helped ease the longing for a while. Do you know, at times I envy people who don't have a faith - it must be a lot easier to live life. But does that emptiness still exist somewhere in everyone? Lord knows.

Have just given up on another Booker Prize shortlisted novel - "Mother's Milk" by Edward St Aubyn was as dry as a desert. I hated Patrick and had no interest in any of the other characters either. That said, there were some funny moments, but not enough to hold me. I think if the child, Robert, had had the viewpoint all the way through then I might have hung on till the end - as he was very surreal (though completely unrealistic) - but no, even then, I think I would have abandoned it. I wonder if literary novelists have forgotten the importance of gripping the reader in their quest for the best sentence - it all seems so bland, with no kick in it. When I read a book, I want to be ravished by it, no matter the flaws - is that too much to ask for? God, I hope not. If Murakami can be a literary novelist, and yet still make you long for the next scene, the next sentence, the next word, why can't others?

I'm planning a lazy day for the rest of today. I've popped downstairs to see Henry, my recuperating neighbour - he's had a minor stroke, but is looking surprisingly well. Later I'll ring mother (yikes!), and then tonight, it's "Wide Sargasso Sea" on TV. I hope it's as ravishing (see above!) as the book.

This week's haiku:

Softened by the day,
I let things rest where they fall.
A slow unlearning.

Today's nice things:

1. Not staying for church
2. Writing
3. Doing the Rejesus prayer.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Doctors and wasps

Had my usual check-up with the doctor today. He asked how I was, so I told him - briefly - about the last few months - including feeling depressed, trying to cut down on busy-ness, the current problems of church and God, and the counselling etc. He's a good listener (as well as being a fellow Christian, though I try not to hold that against him ...) and it felt nice to be able to be honest about the whole damn thing for once. He was really sweet about it all - and the result is he's renewed one of my prescriptions, given me another for a Vitamin B complex, printed out some information on anxiety and depression for me, and suggested contacts for my planned ongoing counselling arrangements. At the end, we prayed together - which was unexpected and not normally something I feel that comfortable doing (hey, praying is really personal so back off, people!...) but it actually felt all right this time. Thank you, Dr J. Anyway, I've got another appointment in a month's time, so I'll see how things are then.

Back at home, I got on with having a go with "The Gifting" again - something of a struggle to get into it, but I expected that as I haven't written anything for a week, what with being ill. It took a while, but I've done another thousand words, and am facing a key scene now - so at least it's something to get my teeth into.

Oh, and David Caldo from Writers Promote (http://www.writerspromote.com) has written to Harper Perennial Press mentioning a couple of very worthwhile self-published books they might like to consider (as they're in the market for this, apparently) - one of which is "Pink Champagne and Apple Juice". A thousand blessings on you indeed, David - that's really cheered me up!

Tonight I was supposed to go to the Book Festival (http://www.guildfordbookfestival.co.uk) poetry evening, but I don't much feel like it, to be honest. I think I'm better off staying in and watching TV. Sounds like a plan!... Right now though, I'm stuck in the spare room, as there's a wasp in the hall. I've sprayed, but I'm way too terrified to venture out. Bloody hell, how I hate the evil little beasts! We've been suffering from a spate of them over the last couple of days and I am very, very twitchy. Lord only knows where they're coming from, but I wish they'd ruddy well stay put. Anyway, I've emailed Lord H and told him not to go shopping after work, but to come home instead to rescue the fair maid from the dragon. He's promised a speedy arrival - and has also just rung to confirm this, but I can't answer the phone as it's - yes, you've guessed it - in the ruddy hallway!! Ah well.

Today's nice things:

1. The doctor's appointment
2. Writing
3. David's letter to Harper Perennial.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk