Showing posts with label WCP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WCP. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

AUSTRALIA - MY BEAUTIFUL CORNER OF THE WORLD - MARGARET TANNER

Being an Aussie, I am taking the liberty of changing one of our Blog themes to - Beautiful Australia.

I love a sunburnt country                   
A land of sweeping plains
Of ragged mountain ranges
Of droughts and flooding rains
I love her far horizons
I love her jewel-sea
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me


This extract is from the famous Australian poem by author and poet, Dorothea Mackellar (1885 – 1968). Many people thought it should have become Australia’s national anthem instead of Advance Australia Fair.

We are an island nation. My ancestors fought and died to keep it free. Fortunately, I was never called upon to make such a sacrifice. My small contribution is that my historical novels are all set in Australia.
Our climate can be a harsh one, bitter in winter in some places and like a furnace in others.  We have deserts, wonderful beaches, soaring mountains, often snow capped, large tracts of virgin bushland with trees and fauna found nowhere else in the world.  We also have lush tropical rain forests.

Our most famous animal is of course, the kangaroo, with the koala not far behind.

I hope that one day, at least some of you will journey to the land “down under.” I can guarantee that you will love us.










Sunday, March 11, 2012

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ROSES - MARGARET TANNER

Roses are my favourite flower. My husband thinks I am obsessed with them.  I always wear rose perfume, Bush Rose, Musk Rose. The Yardley (English company) Rose is a lovely perfume, as sweet and fragrant as its name sake.
I have to confess that my garden is full of roses. Hubby hates them with a passion because he thinks they deliberately jump out and stick their thorns into him.
I love old fashioned roses the best. They may not be quite as colourful as the modern day varieties, but they always have a gorgeous perfume.  Just Joey, a beautiful large bloomed orange rose with a delightful perfume is one of my favourites.  Another favourite is a blood red rose named Oklahoma, the perfume is as heady as wine.
It amazes me how often I seem to put a flower in the title of my romance novels, or describe garden scenes. It must have been an instinctive thing because I don’t recall actively trying to do this.

One of my published novels was titled The English Rose.  It has, after a re-write, been released by The Wild Rose Press (TWRP) as Frontier Wife. Holly And The Millionaire is another novel from TWRP. The heroine, Holly has a daughter called Lilly. Daphne is the name of my heroine in The Trouble With Playboys from TWRP. I have also written a short story, Call Of The Apple Blossom.  Can you see a pattern here?
          
 12 red roses flowersWhiskey Creek Press, previously published Savage Utopia and its sequel Stolen Birthright singularly, but have recently re-released them in a 2 for 1 e-book, which is available from Whiskey creek Press and Amazon Kindle.  No flower scenes in these two stories.

SAVAGE UTOPIA
On board the convict ship taking them to the penal colony of Australia, Maryanne Watson and Jake Smith meet and fall in love, but Jake hides a terrible secret that will take him to the gallows if it ever comes out.
On arrival in Sydney the lovers are separated. Maryanne is sent to work for the lecherous Captain Fitzhugh. After he attacks her she flees into the wilderness and eventually meets up with Jake who has escaped from a chain gang.  They set up home in a hidden valley and Maryanne falls pregnant.  Will Jake come out of hiding to protect his fledgling family? And how can love triumph over such crushing odds?
2 IN 1 SAVAGE UTOPIA & STOLEN BIRTHRIGHT by Margaret Tanner - Click Image to Close
STOLEN BIRTHRIGHT
Can an English aristocrat ever hope to marry the daughter of convicts?
Georgina, a wild colonial girl, is brought up by O’Rourke, a rough and ready Irishman who she believes is her uncle. While helping the bushranger Johnny Dawson escape from prison she meets and falls in love with a dashing young English aristocrat, the Honourable Marcus Lindquist.
When Johnny Dawson is ambushed and killed, Marcus finally learns the secret of what has bound the young outlaw to Georgina. Meanwhile, twelve thousand miles across the sea, Marcus’ Godfather, is plotting Georgina’s death to keep his dark secrets from ever seeing the light of day.






































Wednesday, January 11, 2012

NEW YEAR RESOLUTION - DE-CLUTTER

THE PERILS OF NOT DE-CLUTTERING – Margaret Tanner

Happy New Year to everyone.

The start of a new year is a great time to de-clutter, figuratively and literally speaking. A time to cast off the old and start afresh with the new.

I am a clutter collector from way back. I figure why throw anything out; you never know when you might need it. I inherited the hoarder gene.

“Waste not, want not” was my mother’s motto and she lived by it the whole of her life. Maybe it was because she lived through the great depression of the 1930’s and World War 2, that she would use and re-use, save and squirrel away stuff. Our house was never untidy, because most of the hoarded items were well out of sight. 
 
I should have learned my lesson after my dear mother died about 20 years ago and my sister and I had to clear out her house. To say it was a nightmare was an understatement. It took weeks. My mother had kept receipts from the 1940’s, even her World War 2 ration book. And speaking of books, she had hundreds of them. Then there were the ornaments, pretty little knick-knacks that reposed on every shelf or level surface in the house. Boxes of china. Well, you get the idea.

Now you would think that after all this trauma and angst, I would have dashed home and gone through my own cupboards.  I didn’t, but I did take a lot of my mother’s stuff with me.  Well, how could I let it go?  All those little treasures.

My mother-in-law passed away, same story, I kept a lot of her things too. I was a hoarder.  It came as naturally as breathing or eating.

Well friends, retribution did come. The youngest of our sons finally left home, so hubby and I decided it was time to downsize. We bought a smaller house, and put our larger house on the market. “We’ve got a lot of stuff here, we’ll have to get rid of it,” hubby says.

Over my dead body. “No, we won’t do anything rash,” I said, “we’ll put it in storage, which we did, and it wasn’t easy, took us several weekends. So, my house was partially emptied and ready for the pre-sale inspections.

A week before the auction of our house, my husband had to have heart by-pass surgery, so I had to go on with the sale alone. After the auction and hubby’s successful operation, I had to start packing, because when he came home he couldn’t do anything for eight weeks. I really hit the panic button because we had a short settlement. 40 days to clear out all our stuff, that of my mother and mother-in-law (that I had kept, and shouldn’t have). Well, it was a nightmare. I did most of it on my own.  I don’t know how many trips I made to donate all these “treasures” to the second hand thrift shop (we call them Op shops here in Australia.  They are run by charities to raise money to help the less fortunate).  And I did help the less fortunate - big time.  The Op shop manager must have thought I was Mother Teresa re-incarnated.

It was terrible. I cried because I had to give away my ‘treasures, mum’s treasures and my mother in-law’s treasures’. Worse still, was the time it took to pack them and deliver them to the Op shop. 

With the clock ticking, I had to be ruthless – and I was.

If you are even contemplating moving house, start to get rid of your surplus stuff early.  In fact, don’t collect it in the first place.  A lady once told me that if she didn’t wear a dress for a year, she was probably never going to wear it again, and she got rid of it. Smart lady. Wish I had such courage.  I still cling to my favourite dresses, hey I might lose weight and they will fit me again???

The moral of this story is -  don’t hoard. De-clutter as much as possible, because one day you will have to sort it out, or your children will have to sort it out.  

The same goes for your writing.  If it isn’t working, discard it. Be ruthless. Start all over again if necessary, but never ever give up.


I am multi-published with Whiskey Creek Press and the Wild Rose Press.


Wednesday, November 23, 2011

GIVING THANKS FOR A LUCKY CHARM

We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here in Australia, so I thought I would blog about a lucky charm, a magic silver boomerang (a boomerang is an Australian aboriginal hunting weapon), that brought my father home from war.

I always scoffed at magic or lucky charms. If I couldn’t see it, I didn’t believe in it. Well, that is not until I visited my Dad’s sister, a sprightly old dear in her nineties. It was the 30th anniversary of my father’s death.

After a watery, milky cup of tea and some stale cake, that Aunty said she had baked the previous day, but I think it could have been the previous week, she started telling me about the silver boomerang, which we had found many years ago amongst my late father’s war medals.  The boomerang bore the words “I go to return.”

It was a good luck charm, and my father apparently wore it throughout the 2nd World War.  There was magic in the boomerang, the lady who had given to him was convinced of it, as was my aunt. Whether Dad believed in it or not, I have no idea.

The original owner apparently survived the carnage of the 1st World War.  So, did the good luck charm live up to its name the second time around?

In March 1940 Dad felt duty bound to answer his country’s call to war. When the Japanese poured into Malaya he was there as a member of the 2/29th Battalion of the Australian 8th Division, (most of whom ended up dying as Prisoners of War).

Wounded in action in Malaya, and transferred to an Australian Military Hospital in Singapore, my father was blown out of bed, but survived the Japanese bombs which took the roof off his ward.  The British forces fell back across the causeway into Singapore. Day and night the fires burned.  The bombers came over spreading their destruction. Shattered shops were left to the mercy of looters, bodies rotted in the streets, and packs of marauding dogs gorged themselves with little resistance, as a pall of black smoke hung over Singapore. The giant British guns that might have saved Singapore were embedded in concrete and pointing out to sea. Useless to quell the invaders who came over land through the jungle.

All aircraft and ships had departed loaded with civilians, nurses and wounded, and after this desperate flotilla sailed off, those left behind could only await their fate.

In the last terrible days before Singapore capitulated in February 1942, trapping 80,000 Australian and British troops, a small boat braved the might of the Japanese air force and navy, and set off, crammed with wounded.  Only soldiers who were too incapacitated to fight yet could somehow mobilise themselves, were given the opportunity for this one last chance of escape.

With a piece of his back bone shot away, and weakened from attacks of malaria, Dad had somehow made it to the wharf, with a rifle and the clothes he stood up in. As the boat wended its way out of the Singapore harbour, littered with the smouldering debris of dying ships, a Japanese bomber dived low over them, but the pilot obviously had more important targets on his mind.

They drifted around in the sea for several days until they were finally rescued by a passing allied ship and after another couple of weeks, Dad finally made it home.

Thank you magic boomerang for helping my Dad make it home. 

Margaret Tanner is a multi-published author of historical romance with Whiskey Creek Press and The Wild Rose Press.


I am giving away an e-copy of my WCP novel, Savage Utopia, to one lucky commentator.


Savage Utopia Blurb:
On board the convict ship taking them to the penal colony of Australia, Maryanne Watson and Jake Smith meet and fall in love, but Jake hides a terrible secret that will take him to the gallows if it ever comes out.
On arrival in Sydney the lovers are separated. Maryanne is sent to work for the lecherous Captain Fitzhugh. After he attacks her she flees into the wilderness and eventually meets up with Jake who has escaped from a chain gang.  They set up home in a hidden valley and Maryanne falls pregnant.  Will Jake come out of hiding to protect his fledgling family? And how can love triumph over such crushing odds?