white stone

Today is marked with a white stone.
This will mean something to some people.
An incredibly nice man has offered to redesign and rebuild my website into a professionally usable and navigable site. This is not to say I do not appreciate what was done for me by another very nice man who built the original and I thank him for that.
I am finding friends and allies I could not have hoped for, not least among the animals.
At my signings I am meeting some really very nice people (I except the elderly lady who blurted loudly; ‘No, I don’t like your cover picture – AT ALL!). I hope all of you who did buy the book enjoy some it at least. Always pleased to hear if you did.
One chap today bought one at ten and returned at twelve for two more. Four bought two. (this sounds like the start of a conundrum) How many were left after four?
None.
Tomorrow. A tale about the tale (and a cave – and some bones).

For three Days only!

Third-and-a-bit

Here is a picture of my mood (see Third, below).

Third. A right plight.

“Nothing.” (answer to last)

Writing this blog, I feel in sympathy with Emily Dickinson’s ‘nobody’ –

“I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!”

…or, as Mr. Frog ’imself might say, “dropping one’s aitches takes the ‘hauteur’ out of ‘auteur’.”

Which means I am, in my solipsism, free to write as I will.

And so, I write, on a similar theme:

The Companion.

At the lake’s edge,
A sudden gust.
Caught among the swirling
Skirts of faded petals -
Breeze of another summer -
The faint scent
Of his deep longing.

The children about his feet,
Hungry for the hundred tales
With which his life was leavened,
Are all his mind.

Courting
The trembling minstrelsy of his fingers,
A parliament of birds
Prodigiously dispute the propriety
Of each fibrous knot of memory
Discarded from the crusty fabric
Of his life - till the tale’s end
Scatters these fickle courtiers
To flock homage
Under the aegis of some other king.
.................................
©Alan Gilliland.

This may not quite be nonsense, but it is the way I am feeling today, and my imaginary companion is understanding of the vagaries of my mind.

Second. A mysterious case of thick handedness.

I was signing at Waterstone’s, County Mall, Crawley, yesterday when the back of my right, drawing, hand started to swell and ache badly. I thought I must have banged it playing tennis the day before but, instead of turning into a nice black bruise, it just kept swelling as if from a bite.
I took anti-swelling tablets and cream, called anti-hisstamines - which sound as if they should be good against snake-bites , though I never saw one in the shop - but it just kept on swelling through the night. Today the back of my hand looks like a tumulus (long-barrow - where ancient Brits were buried).
Since it is my best drawing hand and I find it very useful, I would just ask this: “If anyone who bought my book yesterday did bite me, or perhaps had a snake or spider or ancient Brit in their pocket, would they kindly let me know.”

Hercule Poirot might suspect one of the 28 people who bought the book, possibly narrowing it down to one of the seven who shook my hand, four of whom were children. But has anyone heard of a person maliciously buying a book?
I dismiss such a preposterous theory out of hand, preferring instead to thank those people in the hope that one reading this may have a better explanation for thith thudden cathe of thick-handedneth. (the thwelling theemth to have thpread to my mouth!)

Tomorrow: What lies betwixt the lips and lisp?

First day: Curd the Lion & friends

FACT: I published my first book, ‘The Amazing Adventures of Curd the Lion (and Us!) in the Land at the Back of Beyond’ on 20th October 2008 in the UK. ISBN-9780955548611. FACT: I am publishing my first blog today, 15 January, 2009.

FICTION: Curd the Lion and Pilgrim Crow are Henry’s Animals. Sweeney the Heenie and O’Flattery the Snake are his Henrietta’s. Henry and Henrieta are twins. They live in a cottage below a mill pond whose stream originates high up in the Land at the Back of Beyond.
The Back of Beyond is a place somewhere between Yorkshire and the Land of Nod. The Land of Nod sits in the centre of the Great Sea of Slumber.
The Land of Nod is the realm of the Ineffable Emperor, the Dodongs, with his twin heads and scales instead of feathers, which are magical and so kept hidden on the inside, and hands instead of wings, with which the Dodongs swims gracefully through the Great Sea of Slumber, that is all round us if only we could see it (it is a matter of Density).

(You are probably wondering by now what the Dodongs looks like. Of course, if, like all sensible people, you have read the book, you will know already . If not, I have posted his picture along with lots of others from the book on the website, www.ravensquill.com where they can be found under NEWS. He is also bottom left on the picture at the head of this blog.)

FACT: My name is not well known. I intend to keep those who do know, however, up to date on my stories. Eventually there may be enough readers to make this useful. I have been doing regular book-signings. I will post here, each week, where I am signing next. For instance, this Saturday, 17th Jan., I am signing at Waterstone’s, County Mall, Crawley West Sussex.

FICTION: Why “pencilnotes” when they are obviously typed? Because I have a Magic Pencil that creates whole worlds as long as I hold it upright, sharpen it regularly and make sure I’ve got enough paper to keep it well fed. When it becomes too short, to avoid any argument I go and buy another one. By this simple process I keep a well-tempered pencil that never runs out on me.
I am often asked, “where do your ideas come from?” I have just answered: “Putting my pencil to paper”. Sometimes it draws them out, sometimes describes them in words.
It’s very simple and can be tried by anyone.