Author, editor, attempter of this thing called life. Social anxiety warrior. Re-Connections, a collection of short stories, published with Ocelot Press, 15/10/2025.
GREEN. If that were the solution to a cryptic crossword clue, what might the clue be? Answer: a new genre.
As it happens, a new genre (for me) is exactly what my latest novel is written in. It’s a murder mystery, called Style and the Solitary. Set in my adopted city of Jerusalem, it begins with a murder and a suspect – a suspect who is unable to defend himself. Fortunately, there’s someone who believes in his innocence.
Style and the Solitary will be published by Darkstroke on 26th April, 2021.
GREEN is also the dominant colour in the gorgeous new cover.
Is there anything you want to say about the colour green, or anything else for that matter? You’re welcome to comment below.
No doubt, I’ll be writing more about this novel in the coming weeks. Topics will include Jerusalem, NaNoWriMo, friendship and maybe even social anxiety.
In the meantime, Cultivating a Fuji, my uplit novel set in Bournemouth (UK) and Japan has been rereleased and is available on Amazon.
For a short while, the paperback on Amazon UK is only at this link.
My husband and I are lucky to have been on some amazing trips around the world. One of them took place seven years ago in Japan. In three action-packed weeks, we toured a country that is like no other – modern yet traditional, beautiful and quaint.
Street performance in Kanazawa
We dressed in traditional clothes and consumed local food and drink.
But we remained most definite outsiders. In three weeks, we couldn’t possibly begin to know what it’s like to live in this weird and wonderful land. And it’s only as an outsider that I’m able to write about Japan.
Fortunately, Martin, the main character in my novel: Cultivating a Fuji, also visits Japan as an outsider. Unfortunately, he has lived his whole life as an outsider, starting at school where he was ostracised and bullied.
When Martin is sent to represent his company in Japan, nobody believes he can succeed. He surprises everyone, including himself, but that’s only the beginning.
Edition 2 of Cultivating a Fuji will be released on 22nd February 2021. You can pre-order it now from Amazon at mybook.to/CultivatingAFuji.
What’s New?
Not a lot, so don’t buy it if you’ve read it. I’ve made minor improvements to the text. And I’ve changed the very beginning and the very end.
The beginning is important because the first sentence needs to make an impression, but the story remains the same.
The ending is now the one I really wanted for the first edition, before I allowed myself to be persuaded by a suggestion from an author I admire. Instead of explaining why my ending worked better, or simply ignoring the suggestion, I persuaded myself that she knew better.
So, for me, this novel has been a lesson in trusting myself as an author. It’s important to listen to what readers have to say, but ultimately the decision must remain with the author.
Fortunately, this novel has been enjoyed by many and I hope it continues to satisfy readers and make them reflect.
It’s been a while since I wrote my Word Tips for Authors. However, I recently thought of a new one:
When you’ve finished editing a manuscript using Track Changes as described in Tip 6, you need to accept all changes and turn off Track Changes in order to continue with publication. My advice is to read the whole manuscript again at this point.
Why? Because sometimes things aren’t what they seem. I’ve noticed several mistakes in novels that I believe arose because the manuscript wasn’t read at this stage. For example, sometimes there are words that shouldn’t be there, like:
At the back of the bus was a the girl.
Probably, ‘a’ was changed to ‘the’ or vice versa and it wasn’t clear, while Track Changes was on, that the change wasn’t made correctly.
Yesterday, I got the first of two doses of the Covid-19 vaccination. The process was easy and well organised, and I’m feeling fine, thank you.
No country is perfect, Israel included, but it’s in times like these that I feel most proud of my little country. I think this article does a good job of explaining why Israel has succeeded in vaccinating a much higher proportion of its population than any other country. Basically, it’s due to our health service and the way it’s run, with clinics all over the country, and our ability to mobilise in times of emergency.
When makes me annoyed? When I read in the foreign press that Israel is going ahead with vaccinating while Palestinians have to wait. The fact is that Israeli Arabs have the same rights to health care (including vaccinations) as everyone else in Israel. Those who live in the Palestinian Authority have their own systems in place, independent of Israel. Israel is not responsible for their vaccination programme, although it will probably help them.
My appointment for the second injection is in three weeks. I would love for it to be followed by a trip to the UK, my home away from home. Sadly, I don’t see that happening.
Stay safe and healthy, everyone, wherever you are.
2020 – the year when nothing happened. Hang on… is that true? Something must have happened. Let’s see.
Best Holiday (Vacation)
We only had one proper holiday, but it was a wonderful, action-packed tour of neighbouring Egypt in January. I’m so glad we made the last-minute decision to join the tour.
Best Book Read
I read several wonderful books, this year. This was the best. A combination of secrets, lies, and great plotting and writing was what made this novel stand out.
Best Book Written
No contest there. I wrote only one book and wouldn’t have completed that without NaNoWriMo and our wonderful municipal liaisons. (I’m still editing it and hope to have it finished soon.)
Best Book Published
I’m proud to have my short story, Gruesome in Golders Green, in this fabulous collection of short stories, all inspired by the city I grew up in.
Best Photo of Me
Taken by my son for Independence Day.
Best Addition to the Family
Our granddaughter! She’s almost six months old, now.
Yes, some bad things happened, too. The main one was losing a very good friend.
Gill Downs. 1st February 1953 – 18th November 2020
The six days that have passed since I heard the sad news of Gill’s passing haven’t made this any easier to grasp. The suddenness has made it difficult for everyone, especially for her family. No one expected this.
I first met Gillian at school. She was in my year, but never in my class, and I remember her mostly from the coach that took us to kosher dinners and back. Probably most of the girls who went didn’t eat kosher at home, but their parents saw it as a way for them to meet other Jews.
Gill was much more sophisticated than me, more knowledgeable about things outside school. I was younger than most of them and young for my age and, like all the girls I hung around with, she bullied me. I never called it bullying then. Bullying, I thought then but don’t think now, had to be physical. I called it teasing. It wasn’t pleasant. And yet, despite the way they treated me, I continued to hang around with them, every day, there and back and while we ate our kosher meals. Why? Because the alternative would have been to be on my own, and I knew that would be worse.
No one in that group of girls was the highest in the bullying ranking. There were a couple of others – one in particular – who won that title. And Gill, I remember, even agreed to sit next to me when I found myself in the same Maths class as her.
Eventually, school fizzled out. I left with pleasure and a vow never to be in contact with any of the girls from school again. Fortunately, university was much better. But my experiences of school, and childhood in general, continued to have an effect on me as a person. I often kept quiet and when I did talk, I found self-expression difficult and sounded hesitant.
I moved countries, got married, had three children. I worked as a computer programmer and then as a technical writer. My life was good but the problems didn’t go away.
In 2002, I added myself to the list for my school on Friends Reunited (a forerunner to Facebook). Never did I expect anyone would contact me, but they did – first Jane and then Gill. For a long time, Gill and I emailed each other practically every day. It was the perfect medium for me. It gave me time to consider my words, yet provided an immediacy that letters never could. I poured out my problems and thoughts, and she listened and reacted, showing that she understood. She gave advice and eventually told me about social anxiety. It was hard for me to believe that anyone else in the world could have similar problems, so it was most surprising to discover the name, support groups and therapy.
Gill and Miriam, May 2009
One thing that bothered me was that Gill continued to feel guilty for what she did to me as a child. (She had a different word for it: victimisation.) I tried to make her see that she was too young and immature to know what she was doing to me then. I said any blame should be laid on the adults in our lives – mostly the teachers, and perhaps even that isn’t fair because they didn’t know, either.
Without Gill, I’d have remained the same person, quiet and closed to the world. Probably, many people I meet still see me that way. But, through Gill, I’ve learned to write down my thoughts. Without her, I would never have become an author.
It’s hard to believe that I can no longer reach Gill by any means, technological or otherwise. For her, I’m glad, at least, that decades of enduring pain and disability ended so suddenly. For her family, the suddenness has added to their grief and for that I’m very sorry.
I’ll never forget Gill and all she did for me these past eighteen years. Yehi zichra baruch – may her memory be a blessing.
I’m delighted to welcome the author Tim Taylor to the blog. Tim has been a friend of mine for several years. His blog is full of his brilliant short stories and poems. Today, he’s here to tell us about something a bit different. Over to you, Tim.
Hello Miriam, thank you very much for hosting me today.
I’d like to talk about a new anthology of speculative fiction that I’ve been involved in. Darkness, published by Twisted Fate Publishing on 10 October, is a mix of sci-fi, fantasy and horror, by a group of previously published writers who have come together to make a book in aid of the mental health charity, MIND. All the stories relate to the theme of darkness, in many different literal and metaphorical ways.
The book is available on Amazon (via this link) for £9.99 in paperback or £3.99 on Kindle. All profits go to MIND. One of my two stories in the anthology is the first outing in print for a long-term sci-fi project I’ve been working at, on and off, for quite a while, in parallel with other writing. It involves a human community on a distant planet, ruled by a theocracy which diverts the resources of society towards the needs of its God. The people have lost their technology, and their history has been rewritten. However, as my story, Delving, explores, adventurous individuals may find bits of both in the ruins of ancient cities. Here is a short excerpt:
At last, they reached a tall wooden fence. It was twice the height of a man: Peiku wondered how they were going to get over it. But Ravakinu showed no inclination to do so, instead slowly following the fence to the left. At length they came upon a large bush. Ravakinu crouched down and motioned for the others to do so as well. The pale light illuminated his face once again.
“This is where we cross,” he whispered. “We can get under the fence here. Any second thoughts? It’s not too late to go back. If you get caught out here, it’s a breach of curfew and a slap on the wrist. Beyond the fence is forbidden ground. Get caught there and you are in major trouble. The Guardians are within their rights to execute anybody they find delving in the Old City, and sometimes they do. People I knew have died there.”
He looked pointedly at Peiku. “Still sure you want to go in?”
Peiku was not sure at all, but when he looked over at Vahe, her face had an uncharacteristic expression of grim determination. He couldn’t back out now.
“I’m sure.”
“OK.” Ravakinu pulled aside some foliage to reveal a small space under the fence. It hardly seemed big enough to get through. “I’ll go first and make sure the coast is clear. Peiku, wait a few seconds and then follow me. Vahe, you go last and do a final check that we’re not being followed.”
He turned to Peiku. “You go through feet first. It’s tight, but you’re skinnier than me so you should be okay. Watch me. There’s another bush on the other side, so it’s a bit tricky getting out, but I’ll help you.” Ravakinu lay on the ground and put his feet through the hole. First pushing with his hands against the earth and then pulling upon the planks of the fence itself, he eased himself through. There was a rustle of branches on the far side, then silence. Peiku looked at Vahe. She nodded. He lay down and tried to copy what Ravakinu had done. He put his feet through the hole and found that his legs slipped through easily enough as he pushed against the ground. He could feel branches on the other side of the fence. Now his hips were beneath the fence and his body was hard against the ground. He pushed again and moved another few centimetres. But his clothing was snagged on the fence – he was stuck! He fumbled with the cloth, trying to pull it free, but that seemed to make things worse. Remembering what Ravakinu had done, he grabbed the bottom of the fence and tried to lever himself through, but to no avail. The hard wood was pressing down on his chest, biting into his ribs with every breath. He was trapped!
Many thanks once again for hosting me, Miriam!
Ooh, what a cliffhanger to end on! Thank you, Tim.
Tim (T. E.) Taylor grew up near Leek in Staffordshire and now lives in Meltham, West Yorkshire, at the opposite end of the Peak District, with his wife Rosa and 14 guitars. Having previously been a civil servant, he now divides his time between creative writing, academic research and teaching Ethics part-time at Leeds University.
Tim’s first two novels: Zeus of Ithome, which retells the real-life struggle of the ancient Messenian People to free themselves from Sparta; and Revolution Day, about an ageing dictator clinging on to power, were published by Crooked Cat. His first poetry collection, Sea Without a Shore, was published in 2019 by Maytree Press. Tim is currently working on a science fiction project.
Yesterday, I attended a Zoom presentation by the wonderful Miriam Lottner. Any talk she gives is fascinating and brilliantly-delivered. And while I don’t recognise in myself the habit of being influenced by social media that she mentioned, I certainly found something to grab onto.
“You don’t need to apologise,” she said. She told us about her offer to help people to present themselves in a better way on the job scene. The women who got in touch apologised for taking up her time. The men didn’t.
Miriam is right. We don’t need to apologise for what is rightfully ours, although I’m sure I often do. However, I do need to apologise for a recent blog post that confused some people. A group I belong to is talking of creating a website and considering using WordPress. I wanted to demonstrate something that WordPress can do, so I created a test post and added a password as the post was relevant only for the members of the group. But other people saw the link to the post and wondered about the password. For that confusion, I apologise. I wonder if there’s a better way to post something intended for a limited audience.
In other news, I’m planning a crime – a fictional one, of course. That will be my novel for NaNoWriMo. Unfortunately, we won’t be meeting up in local restaurants, this year, but we’ll meet online. I’m looking forward to it.
We all make mistakes, sometimes. We all need to listen to advice, sometimes, especially when that advice comes from a voice of experience.
But equally important is the notion that we need to have confidence in our own abilities to think, so that, after listening to advice and learning all we can, we are able to make and follow our own decisions.
I’ve just made a decision about one of my books, one that I should and would have made sooner if I’d had more confidence to follow the path I’d chosen. Because no matter who the person is who advised changing direction, the final decision should have been mine.
I’m not going to explain any more now, but in about three months I’ll refer back to this post.
In the meantime, the message of this post is universal:
You have to have confidence in your ability, and then be tough enough to follow through.
Rosalynn Carter
Writing is tough. Life is tough. But we can do it.
Miriam Drori, Author 