Outtakes of Life

 

 

This time of year, I watch lots of movies. I binge first on the Christmas ones, then gradually wean myself off (reluctantly).

The other day, I watched a Richard Curtis film called About Time. The movie is not new; I believe it was released in 2013. I wasn’t aware of the film before and just came across it accidentally. I chose it because I knew it wouldn’t disappoint, as all of the other titles this writer, producer and director is known for are memorable.

Like many of his other productions, the screenplay of this rom-com was a mix of funny and sad. Without giving too much away and spoiling your viewing if you haven’t watched it yet, time travel and the ability to change things in his life feature. What I loved about it was that although the protagonist could change certain things in his life, it wasn’t possible to change everything. For me, this actually made the story more believable.

As a writer, it enforced the advice given to me a long time ago; that we must make our characters believable in our writing. The protagonist has to have struggles and goals as real people do. 

The only difference is that film producers can do outtakes to do just that, and we can edit, edit, and edit to reach our desired outcome, unlike life.

The Year

     

 

 

    Well, where has the year gone? This is my last post of the year and I wanted to wish you all

 a wonderful New Year ahead and thank you for joining me throughout the year.

    I want to see the year out with a classic poem by American author and poet, Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

The Year

What can be said in new Year rhymes

That's not been said a thousand times?

The new years come , the old years go

We know we dream, we dream we know

We hug the world until it stings

We curse it then and sigh for wings

We  live , we love, we woo, we wed

We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear

And that's the burden of a year

 

 Ella Wheeler Wilcox Nov 5 1850—Oct 30 1919

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Agatha’s View

 

 

    A set of stairs leads towards the popular la Sala Teatro Timanfaya, a theatre popular for artistic and musical folklore productions. But, looking beyond and towards the sky ahead, a hotel that once dominated the skies of Puerto de La Cruz is surrounded by scaffolding and is clearly undergoing restoration and renewal.

 

    El Gran Hotel Taoro, built as a luxury hotel in 1890, endured financial crashes, civil wars, and world wars. It played host to some of the most prominent dignitaries in society; the list is long, but being a writer, I have to mention one of its most famous guests in my eyes, Agatha Christie.

 

    But not everything can stay in the past, and El Gran Hotel Taoro grew tired and outdated. Unloved and occupied by various businesses, it finally closed its doors around half a century ago. 

 

 

 

    The new owners, the My Way Hotel Group, are rehabilitating the facade and interior of the building. However, what will never change is the significance the building has played in the city's history. Future guests can take in the marvellous vistas below towards the magical blue sea as Agatha did and maybe even be inspired to write a book or short story.

 

 

 

 

 

https://granhoteltaoro.com/en/ 

Over-Egged

 

 

I am increasingly frustrated when I read news articles and media posts that are “over-egged.” They are sometimes so exaggerated that they fall into the fake news category. Unfortunately, many are written to exacerbate social unrest, bigotry and hatred.

It is disappointing that many journalists and media writers are selling their souls to the devil and are gaining notoriety by writing truly fictional pieces.

 
It’s my opinion that many of these writers are just lazy when choosing this easy option. It would be nice if they could be true to at least themselves and use the gift they were given positively.

Okay, my rant is over. Thank you, as always for reading the blog. Have a fabulous weekend.

 

 

 

Creative Slowdown

 

 

 

 I’m sorry I haven't been blogging much recently. Why? I've hit a bit of writer's block when it comes to writing posts. It's not that I haven’t been writing; I have. My brain has been finding it difficult to concentrate on more than one thing at a time in the writing field, I’m writing a new novel, and I've been focusing on that.

I'm venturing into the adult romance field this time, something slightly different for me as a writer. I want the story to be realistic, and I've spent time doing research, which has been time-consuming. 

I'm now halfway through the first draft, and hopefully, I'll soon be finished. But, of course, the draft is only the start of the hard work. Wish me luck.

When the Beast Became an Enchanted Rose

    Since being established in 1496 by the Genoan banker Cristobal de Ponte, the town of Garachico had played a principal commercial role in trading the island's wine and sugar commodities with Europe and America. 

    However, this changed when Arenas Negras poured its hot temper onto the inhabitants at the bottom of the deep ravine. The molten lava completely drowned the port, and the city of Puerto de la Cruz became the new trading port.   

    Now, the town is resurrected from the ashes and finds itself the centre of attention because of its rich history and outstanding beauty. A mixture of the old and new architecture blends into the mountainous backdrop. As the great Albert Einstein said, “In the midst of every crisis lies great opportunity.”

    Having visited there for the first time recently,  I found the place very enchanting. I have included some photographs, but if you want to be enchanted by this rose, visit Garachico and see there for yourself.

The Best Days Ever

     

 

    I enjoy watching cookery programmes, and I have my favourite go-tos. The other day, I viewed an episode of a series of programmes that featured picnic food. It got me thinking back to when I was a kid and when my grandmother used to take me on a picnic regularly.

    The food we ate on the picnic was very different from the food suggestions on this programme. There was no quiche, sausage rolls, scotch eggs or Battenberg cake, washed down by iced lemon tea.

    Our feast usually consisted of jam or cheese sandwiches accompanied by a flask of tea. They were the best days ever.

 

    I’ve included a classic poem today, written by African-American Julius C. Wright. I hope you enjoy it.

 

 Going to the Picnic

 

There is a large crowd of folk

Hurrying down the road

They are going to have a picnic now 

And spread the news abroad

They're wearing beautiful bouquets

And carrying bright tin dippers

New straw hats are waving high

And patent leather slippers

Their hats are made of fine chiffon

And decorated too

There will be plenty of goodies

For your friends and for you

They will have a big barbecue

And a lot of other stuff

They are going to eat and drink

Till everybody puff 

They will have cakes and candy by the heaps

And ice cream pressed in cakes

Peanut parched fresh and hot

And a lot of fine milkshakes

They will have fish croquettes by the bushels

And coconut jumbles too

They are going to feed their friends and foes

And have enough for you

They are going to have a big dance

And have a Jolly time

They want to show their handsome looks

Because they look so fine

 

One barrel or two of lemonade

Mixed all through with ice

Lemons cut and thrown therein 

Gee! it’s awful nice 

 

Of all the fun and jollities

And all the places of rest

Just go to an old picnic ground 

They tell me that's the best