#IWSG post -- March 1 Question: Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it? Did it work out?

Here we are again! Another month, another security or insecurity. How this year is flying by!

It's always a good way to mark the beginning of the month by posting/reading for the IWSG. My head is full of other things this month, like heading off on a road trip through outback Australia -- 2.054 kilometres (1.276  miles) each way.

I leave today, March 1st.



Thanks to Alex's awesome co-hosts for the March 1 IWSG: Tamara Narayan,Patsy Collins, M.J. Fifield, and Nicohle Christopherson!

Today I'll go with the question:

Have you ever pulled out a really old story and reworked it?

Well, sort of. But the 'really old story' I'm talking about is my vampire novella. 'Under the Tuscan Moon' was my indulgence published in 2015 - written with an ancient slant to the language as it was more likely spoken in the 16th century. Some readers found the language off putting, others thought it was exquisite. Commercial viability has won, and after doing two posts on self-publishing I've used some of the feedback to kick start my sales. Probably the most important advice was to think about my target audience (thanks L Diane Wolfe). So I've done this, and have come up with a new title, new author name, and most importantly, new cover, so there's no doubt what lies inside the pages. Currently, I'm re-writing the whole story, galloping along in modern English at a much faster pace.

Along with my good friend Lynda Young, I attended a Joanna Penn lecture/discussion on self-publishing yesterday (basically, why would you do anything else, she asks?) Joanna is a great proponent of reworking her books -- new covers, fixing anything a reader may have pointed out etc etc. She staggered us by saying she does this monthly! Egad!

So, yes, I believe in reworking stories. I'll let you know how it goes when I re-publish.

Hope you have as much fun as I intend to this month!

And thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit little 'ole me. Looking forward to visiting you as wifi and travel miles allow.

Write...Edit...Publish challenge - CHANGING FACES. My story set in the Australian Outback.

Hi everyone!

If you're looking for my UNDERRATED blogfest entry, it's been relegated to second place.

It's time for the Write...Edit...Publish challenge again. This month is CHANGING FACES, a wide-open challenge. I've chosen to re-post a story I wrote for #FridayFlash a couple of years ago. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, so I thought I'd let it do double duty as I'm having a very busy month.

It's a story about the Queensland outback which I linked to in my recent post on Richard Hughes' blog. If you actually followed the link and read my story, I apologise.

I've added some images of Australia for you.

Indigenous Australians are not only the most profoundly disadvantaged group in Australian society, but the most discriminated against. There are some references in this story you may not get, but suffice to say in Colonial Australia, Aboriginals were often referred to as 'Jacky Jacky' and Aboriginals used to wryly call themselves 'King George' after the English king at this time. Of course, Indigenous Australians ran rings around whites when it came to surviving the outback.

A Thirst Before Dying

Aboriginal Rock Art

You don’t want me to stay with you then?

No. I’d prefer to be alone.

I could stay until…

No, it’s best for you to leave now, see if you can find a way out of this god-forsaken place.

Look, there might be water just over that ridge. I’ll go and come back with some as soon as I find it.

Don’t worry about me mate. I’m done for. Listen to me croaking. Let’s invent our own bush lore – every man for himself, none of this laying down your life for your mate…

I’ll feel bad…

Rubbish mate. Just go and let me get on with it. You’d be a silly bugger to stay here and rot. You’ve got a chance. Take it. You know I haven’t got a snowflake’s chance in hell of surviving. It's as hot as hell here. I can feel myself cooking from the inside out.

But…

Go, you ugly bastard. And get that woeful look off your face. I don’t want you here. Get on with it. At least one of us silly buggers will survive.

Look, it’s my fault. I was the one who got us lost. I really thought I knew where I was going...

Turns out you didn’t, but we aren’t the first and we won’t be the last to be tricked by the Australian bush, mate. You know that. We broke every rule in the book--leaving the car, not enough water, then I went and broke my bloody leg to boot. That ends it for me. No chance of me getting out of here now. Think about it. I'm right...Go!

***

I woke to the pain throbbing through my busted leg. I rolled over, took a deep breath then looked down. The leg didn't seem to belong to me.

I was astounded to see how fat it’d gotten while I drowsed. Nothing I could do, so I just lay there, trying to will myself to feel nothing even though the sun was now directly overhead, frying me like an egg on a car bonnet.

How will it feel to die of thirst?

I once read about an old salt who survived nearly seven days in the Arizona desert without water. Well, I’d been about three days and I knew I wasn’t about to break Mr Valencia’s record.

I ran my tongue around my mouth, felt saliva as thick as paste. My tongue clung to my teeth and the roof of my mouth. I felt like I had a golf ball in my throat. My head and neck throbbed like I'd been hit with a golf club!

At least it’s taking my mind off the pain in my leg.

My face felt like a full moon and my skin was like thin crackly parchment when I touched it with my shaking fingers. I knew before too long I’d be a raving lunatic. I’d start hallucinating. I didn’t want to be around when that happened.

It was a toss up between pain and thirst. Which would kill me?

***

I’d fallen to my side while I slept. I didn’t want to die lolling like some old abandoned guy in a nursing home. With a few grunts and groans I managed to heave myself up a little and prop my back against the red sandy rock.

The dry valley lay spread before me, shimmering in the heat. I could swear I saw water but I knew that was a mirage.  The reds and ochres of the steep gorges soothed me, taking my mind off the possibilites of that inland sea.

I’ve always loved this country, especially the outback. Unforgiving though. Only the tough survive. Better add smart to that. Not smart to get lost, break down, then run out of water, you useless clot.

I thought of old Herb. I hoped he’d been smart enough to find some water by now or he’d be propping up a rock too, or eating sand.

***

My eyes were just slits, but I noticed a pair of wedge-tailed eagles merge with the red rock, flying between the harsh blue sky and the ochre cliffs like children at play while the sun kept vigil like a protective parent.

It was a sinister brutal world out here. I hereby name you ‘Tarrangaua’. I smiled to myself, feeling like King George. I knew that meant ‘rough red hill’ in Aborigine. Smart arse!

A thick pain pushed up against my chest. There was a whooshing in my ears. Here comes the deafness...

But I could hear a crunching sound reverberating around my head. I swear the rock I was leaning on shook, so I must have reached the hallucinating stage. Didn't even need a pill! I grinned what I knew was a terrible grin, feeling my gums and teeth protruding like some zombie's. My face would be unrecognizable if anyone ever found me.

‘What are you doin’ sittin’ here in the sun you silly bugger? Hardly Bondi Beach, you bum.’

Looming over me looking like the Grim Reaper I could just make him out with the bright sun behind him. All I could really see was a wobbly outline of a face. I blinked and the face morphed into one as black as the ace of spades with a beard as white as snow all under a black Akubra hat with silver studs that glinted in the sun, hurting my eyes.

‘Ouch! Jacky Jacky?’ I croaked. 

Every Australian knows an Aboriginal tracker is called Jacky Jacky, even a city slicker like me.

‘No mate, not Jacky Jacky. I’m Mr Theodore White, but who’s askin’? Looks like you could use some help and quick before you turn into one tough piece of steak.’

‘Hey, I’m King George,’ I said only half-joking. Who am I? 

‘That's my line. He died long ago mate. You don’t wanna be him.’

He lowered himself close to my face, cradled my head in his great black arms and let me take a few sips from his coolamon (water canteen).

I tried to touch his hat just to prove he was no hallucination, but it was out of reach.

The water felt real enough. Its coolness was the most beautiful thing.

‘That’s enough King George. Only a drop at a time or it’ll kill ya.’

I tried not to cry like a baby when he took the bottle away.

‘Found ya old mate,’ he said, as he began tending my leg with the deft moves of ancient Aboriginal lore guiding his hands.

‘What? Who?’ I rasped. Then I remembered old Herb.

‘The other poor bugger you musta been with. He was roasting in the sand in the dry riverbed. Musta gone to sleep thinkin’ he was in the water, seein' a mirage. No savin’ him. His face was burned to a crisp. But looks like you’ll make it, even though your face will never be the same again.’

Coolamon

Click here to read more WEP stories.

CONTEST ALERT!!

And I've just submitted the first chapter of my romance, Fijian Princess, in a Harlequin So You Think You Can Write contest. I'd love it if you'd click this link to my story and read it and comment. Thanks!! Here is the link to the contest if you have a full manuscript ready and would like to enter!

Hey, it's a heatwave Down Under - no snow, no freezing weather, just good old-fashioned sizzling heat.

40 degrees Celsius = 104 degrees Fahrenheit 

50 degrees Celsius = 122 degrees Fahrenheit

Hello there!

We live in an alternate universe Down Under, where the weather from the Northern Hemisphere saturates our news, but our own weather hardly rates a mention. Polar Vortexes, Sub Zero temperatures, high winds and destruction - so much more exciting than boring old heatwaves and the consequences. Australian weather? We just accept that it's summer, so we expect ridiculously-high temps, with drought/and/or floods/and/or bushfires/and/or cyclones thrown in. What's new? It happens every year when December rolls around. (Funnily enough, that's when I escape to the Northern Hemisphere, being someone who prefers cold to heat, lol!)

The fact that this heatwave has been in full force for about two months, makes it a bit harder to ignore. So I thought I'd do a post and show you a typical day in Australia during 40 - 50 degree Celsius temperatures (Conversion at top). 

This photo was taken near Brisbane (where I live), on a day when it was expected to reach 50C. I think it only got to 46C. Welooked at the sunrise, and commented - 'Looks like we're in for it!'

So if you're lucky enough to be at the beach on the Sunshine Coast for the weekend, you head to the wonderful Baked Poetry Cafe in Peregian Beach and imbibe a cooling iced coffee - bliss!

Baked Poetry Cafe iced coffee, the best I've ever tasted!

Okay, you can't sit there under the shady trees drinking coffee all day, even if it's 46C, so let's head for the beach! Yeah, yeah, I know, you shouldn't be sunbaking in this heat, but what the heck! You can easily cool off with a refreshing dunk!

If you can't get to the beach, you might cool off under the moisture fans wherever you see one!

But we coast dwellers always remember the Outback, where there's no beach and little water for pools - (they head for the nearest dam)...drought is severe and stock are dying. 

The Australian Outback...always sizzling! A great setting for Australian romances...from Australian authors like Annie Seaton, Jenny Schwartz, Anna Campbell et al...

Our native koala is parched too. Anywhere for a drink! Lucky suburban koalas.


Bushfires always abound in summer, especially in 40C+ heat and in the south where the heat is dry! Queensland where I live is humid.

Victoria, in the south of Australia, has had on-going bushfires for weeks. They're really suffering. Many homes have been burnt to the ground.

And of course, it's not a Queensland summer without bushfires. Here's one on North Stradbroke Island, off the coast near Brisbane.

It was 54C this day!

What about writing? Not easy in the heat...



Too hot to be inside, so the Vannguard Writers Group met at the Coffee Club in the city and participated in a writing exercise at the Wednesday Farmer's Market.



My youngest daughter lives in Townsville, where they've already had their first cyclone scare for the year. Luckily, Townsville was spared. It hit the towns to the south, but not too badly.




At the end of another unbearably hot day in Brisbane, you head to South Bank beach, which is open all year round, well into the night.

Too hot to go home to bed, so you may as well take a ride on the Brisbane Wheel.



Ha ha! I hope you enjoyed my photo essay. And the good news is that it has cooled down a little!

• Speaking of Australia, Australian author and friend, Charmaine Clancy, has just released her third MG novel - Undead Kev. Kev follows on from My Zombie Dog and Dognapped?

And I'm looking forward to seeing the movie, Tracks, where a young woman goes on a 1,700 mile trek across the deserts of Western Australia with her four camels and faithful dog. Drama/Biography/Adventure

And finally, let's all cheer our friend Roland Yeomans up by visiting him after his facial surgery. D.G. Hudson has a brilliant post on Roland's progress and his novels. 

Author Helen Lacey shares her childhood travelling the Australian Outback...and the books that kept her company. There's pretty horses too!

Hello friends!

I am delighted to host Helen Lacey today as part of her launch for her new novel, Date With Destiny. Helen is a fellow Aussie, fellow Queenslander, with an interesting story to tell of an early childhood spent travelling around the Australian Outback. What great motivators to write -- travel and reading.

Hi Denise and thank you for having me here today.

I think most of us have people or places that shape us and make us who we are and generally we’re moulded from a young age. I had a happy, although fairly unorthodox childhood.

My parents and siblings emigrated from Wales to Australia when I was two. Once some of the older brothers and sisters moved out and married, my parents and three of my siblings started travelling this wonderful country in a fabulously renovated motor home and did so for several years. 

Because of this lifestyle I didn’t have a conventional education for a number of years. I actually went to a total of seventeen schools over several states, but while we were travelling for those few years I didn’t attend school for any regular length of time. Instead, I had books. Lots of them, compliments of my dad. 

When I was eight and in between schools as we were half way across the Australian outback, my father gave me a battered duet copy of Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty and Jack London’s Call of The Wild. I read the stories from cover to cover, back to back and it instilled in me a lifelong love for horses and had me longing for a dog like Buck all of my own.

Next came Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, R.L Stevenson’s Kidnapped and several Dickens’s classics. Of course, some of these books were hard going for an eight year old, and I often resisted and begged to go back to the classics I loved like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. But my lovely dad insisted and whenever we stopped at a small town he would take me to the local book exchange or second hand book shop. 

It was on one of these trips where I discovered the stories that would enrich my life in ways I had yet to imagine. Little did I know at the time that these books were my education when school wasn't an option. Over the course of several towns we picked up three books – Little House On The Prairie, Anne Of Green Gables and Little Women. Because we travelled and moved around so much making friends my own age was hard and my brother and sisters were a lot older than me . . . but I had my books. I had Anne Shirley and Jo March and Laura Ingalls. These three young heroines changed my young life and set me on my path to become an author. Anne Shirley in particular resonated with the girl I was who never quite fitted in. Not that I was an orphan or had red hair. I was the youngest of eight siblings and had very ordinary brown locks – but the way Anne lost herself in stories and had such fabulously huge dreams, struck me in a profound sense.

I also realized something else – these books also had a romance running through. Anne had Gilbert, Joe March her professor and Laura Ingalls fell for Almonzo. In fact, I realized I had actually been reading romances long before I picked up my first Harlequin novel.

My dad’s gone now, but I am eternally grateful to him for introducing me to the world of Black Beauty and all the countless books I read during those early years that made me what to write stories of my own.   

About Helen:

From Welsh parents and a large family, she lives on the east coast of Australia in a small seaside town at the southern most point of The Great Barrier Reef, with her wonderfully supportive husband, many horses and three spoiled dogs.

Connect with Helen:

Website    Blog      Facebook    Twitter     Goodreads 

Date With Destiny

 Financier Grace Preston did fourteen-hour days in New York City. She didn't do small towns in Australia. Not since she'd fled almost twenty years ago. But when a personal trauma sent her home-with a secret she couldn't reveal-the last person she needed was her first love.

Local cop Cameron Jakowski had loved Grace for most of his life. But he wanted marriage and family and she didn't. He was small town, while she was big city-and lived half a world away. But for now she was right here-a walking, talking temptation. One he managed to avoid...until he made one mistake. He kissed her. And reawakened the passion that could change their lives...forever.

Read Reviews

Buy Links



Mills & Boon UK

Harlequin US

Amazon

Amazon UK

B&N

Powell's Books

BAM

indieBound

Watch this series set at Crystal Point:

I have a copy of my August Harlequin Special Edition,  Date With Destiny, to give away to one commenter. So leave a comment and share with us your favourite books when you were growing up.

Thanks Helen for appearing on my blog today. I loved reading about your literary childhood influences, very similar to my own.

And please, pretty please, don't forget to sign up here for Write...Edit...Publish's blogfest where you can post just about anything. Travel stories would be very apt for the VACATION (HOLIDAY) prompt. Thanks to everyone who's already signed up.

Check out Life on the Muskoka River for my Letter from a friend - all about the Australian beach culture...

My good Canadian blogger friend, Cathy Oliffe-Webster of Life on the Muskoka River is doing a great series: Letter From a Friend so we can learn more about our blogger friends - where they come from, what they value, where they write, that sort  of thing. If you'd like to read my letter to Cathy, go here. You might especially like it if you're snowed under at the moment!

Here's a taste:

Beautiful, laid-back Peregian Beach.