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Category Archives: Projects

When The Waves Break The Silence

When The Waves Break The Silence coverpicWhen the body of a man is found on the beach of Luing in Scotland, it appears that nobody knows who he is.
He hasn’t been filed missing, nor is there anyone to claim the body. It remains a mystery who he is and what his story is, until Stella McFee, new officer in town, Lily Cochrane, intern at the local newspapers and Fiona Diggs, intern at the coroner’s office, stick their heads together.
It then appears the man has anything but a pretty past.

Based on true events, but altered for obvious reasons.

This book isn’t suitable for the under 18, contains strong language and may cause bad memories to arise. Help for the latter is included in the last pages.

 

kindle edition: https://kdp.amazon.com/amazon-dp-action/uk/dualbookshelf.marketplacelink/B07J5WPF57

paperback edition: https://kdp.amazon.com/amazon-dp-action/uk/dualbookshelf.marketplacelink/1726854302

Dutch publisher (book in English, publisher situated in the Netherlands):

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Posted by on October 11, 2018 in Books, Projects, Promoting

 

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How I made a Barbarella-outfit out of an H&M jumpsuit

Yes, I am without a hobby. You’ve got to be, when doing something like this, right?

Fact is: I wrote a scifi book (well, that is my opinion, the one I wrote it for said it has a lack of spaceships?! – it has one, but, like Dr Who’s, it’s camouflaged!) and I wanted a pic of me in a Barbarella-like outfit.

So there. That was the initial goal.
Now all I had to look for, was a store that sold something that came even remotely close to such an outfit.
After studying several outfits that I was aware of, worn by the gorgeous Jane Fonda, I decided to go for vlcsnap-2015-02-03-11h47m11s195this one.

When I found out H&M stores had a jumpsuit available in white, I went for it. Thankfully, I had just bought a sewing-machine 🙂

 

so after cutting the legs off, buying black satin ribbons, sewing those on the halter-part of the jumpsuit, I had to undo the legs. Given that I’m not really that good at handycrafts, I ended up making a seam quite next to where the original seam already was situated, camouflaged that with some more ribbon, and so on. Then I put on some cardboard tube with aluminum foil on our wii-gun.

To be fair, I was quite pleased with the result 🙂 So if anybody asks you: YES, I’m available for the remake of Barbarella! 😉

Barbarella IMG_6823_7172 klein.jpg

 
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Posted by on July 6, 2018 in Books, Films, Humour, Projects, Uncategorized

 

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Children’s books

So, as it goes, I threw a tweet in twittersphere this morning. About children’s books. I’m an -unpublished- author myself. I write in every direction possible. I write children’s stories, young adult stories, I wrote a science fiction novel, a detective one, a romantic one, a dramatic one, I also write this blog. As I told a friend: ‘whatever I can make work, I will write’.

Then, when talking to someone about this subject of children’s books, it suddenly hit me, because I truly don’t get it: I’ve had quite some nice ideas for children’s books. The thing is: I can’t draw. Not for real. I can’t make it work. If I need to draw a tree, I need to look at the drawing of a tree that’s already been made. Copy it, it you will. I don’t put my paper over the already existing work to literally copy it, but still: without an example, I can’t make it work.

There’s people, called artists, who can actually do this. They usually struggle to earn a living, because either their work should hang in a museum or should be used in a way they can’t visualise for themselves, I suppose? When you make work of something, you want it to shine and shimmer in the way you had originally intended.

And so I’m surprised that a database that connects people together, doesn’t already exist. It should be and maybe I’m unaware about it.
Probably.
I have tried to approach a few artists in means of finding collaboration for my own stories. Hint: they don’t like that. The late authress Babette Cole once pointed me in the direction of a sort of app, if not community (I forgot the name, sorry) and she assured me it was looked at by publishers and so aswell, very often even. I’ve tried that, but I couldn’t make sense out of it.

I know there must be more communities like that online, but I don’t know any of them. And wouldn’t it be easier indeed if pubishers had their own deparment of that aswell? They are approached by so many willing artists, and they don’t connect the dots, it seems. It looks like they overlook talented people so very easily, while they may have matches under their hands if they would only look at it.
Given that they’re swamped with reading the many manuscripts that are send by them on a daily base, I think they should, as my friend @hill79 on twitter stated, ‘have a sort of Tinder app’ for that? Computers can make the matches that publishers clearly don’t? A writer puts his lines down for a children’s book, drops cluewords as to what the artwork should be like, an artist can do the same. Submit works and drop cluewords to what sort of works it should belong.
A publisher could have such a department with their own demands attached to it. After all, an author or artist should always meet their ‘creative demands’.

Well, it’s just an idea…

 
 

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Birthday

‘Happiness is only a mug full of pralines away, you know that?’ Billie asked her colleague John, who was just about to smash his computer screen into the ground.
Billie was surprisingly unaware of his struggles.
‘What?!’ was his response, panting, as he was trying to dig up every lifeline that kept his screen alive. The screen that said that whatever he wanted to do, was not gonna happen. The screen that had been telling him that for over half an hour now, long before Billie decided now was the best time to come by with her new mug. With pralines.
‘I said that happiness is only a mug full of pralines away’, Billie continued, still not noticing that John actually couldn’t care less that it was her birthday or that her hair was fabulous – the kind of thing she actually wanted to hear, but John missed out on that hint as he was barely all there with his head.
John wasn’t the type of man to like computers if they disobeyed.
Still.
Billie got no response from John for the passed five minutes, while she had been extendedly obvious opened the three enveloppes she had been carrying.
They were all spam: one for cartridges, one for office supplies and one from a nearby supermarket that was bragging about its superjuices. They already had a machine that made those at their current office. Which main aim was to sell office supplies. So the mail was not quite that interesting to be fair. Except that it had given Billie the possibility to stick a bit longer at John’s desk, who she secretly fancied quite a bit, but who hadn’t noticed this.
Currently he was under his desk, cursing his way around.
‘You freaking helpless little shit! They should have unplugged you at birth, told you you were worthless and not a true effort to this digital world. They should have smothered you in your printed plates, poured you over in ink print so you’d suffocate in your own little bits and bites, making it impossible for you to…..aaargh!’ John emerged from under his desk, bumping his head into it first because he pulled back in a reflex too hard.
‘Ouch! It bit me! The bastard bit me!’ he shouted, as if he’d just been bitten by a crocodile while crossing the Nile.
As if.
He rubbed the back of his head.
‘Bit you?’ Billies’ dreambubble just popped now. She noticed John. His head all red and sweaty, his shirt loose, his sleeves rolled up, seated on the floor, with a hand slightly bleeding from a paperclip that stung him.
‘Here, you want a praline?’ she offered.
‘Thanks love, that’ll be grand’, he panted.
Billie walked around his desk.
‘Have you been working on that new converter yet?’ she asked.
‘What?’ John was a bit shocked Billie even knew that word.
‘The new converter. It does something to your screen, apparently’ she explained.
‘It does?!’ John was shocked and relieved at the same time. He crawled to his desk, hung his arms over the keyboard, with the rest of his body still on the floor. It made him look like he was just hanging over the edge of a swimming pool, Billie thought. He punched a few keys, waited with his hands on his head. Then his face cleared up.
‘So that’s it!’ he kissed her.
‘Best birthday ever!’ she smiled.

 
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Posted by on February 6, 2016 in Humour, Projects

 

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When Gods Play Hide & Seek (teaser)

This story begins on a Monday.
To add to its nasty consequences -Mondays are barely ever popular, as beings are not that happy to give up their freedom to perform such a silly thing as work if they have to interrupt or even stop a pleasant thing such as ‘doing nothing’ in front of a tellybox, an xbox, an intergalactic Javahoohoobox, hopping a Mega Hypermatic Bouncing Ball or any such kind thing on weekends- this particular Monday even begins with a meeting.
Meetings are about as pleasant as having a hemorrhoid removed by a dentist, an earthling once told me.

This was not just any meeting.

It was going to be a lifechanging one for some, though not a very impressive one for many others. Most of the latter were attending the table where the meeting was held at.
It was a rather messy meeting, too.
Not quite how Tryxeon had envisioned it. He could hardly draw enough attention to make himself heard, let alone present his new Power Point Presentation.

Which was too bad.
He had spend quite some time making it, after seeing what kind of big audiences it could bring to complete and utter silence on Earth.
Then again, this wasn’t quite Earth. This was his own planet, in his own solar system.

Massive Big Ball.

When it came to naming it, he had been a bit hungover, he admitted. He went for the description his three year old son had given him when seeing it for the first time, from a distance, while eating his porridge. A spoon had pointed at it in his small, sticky and dirty hands.
‘That’s a massive big ball!’
Tryxeon had concluded this was, in fact, the perfect description of it, so he decided that that should be its name.

Got curious?  Purchase here: 

 

 
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Posted by on January 27, 2016 in Books, Humour, Projects, Promoting

 

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Making things I have in my mind.

The annoying part of being a writer is to get people convinced that they really haven’t lived their lives properly unless they’ve read your book.

It’s in a way even harder if you’re being creative. For childrens’ books, for instance.
I’m someone to come up with a story. I can’t draw. Not for real. Not the kind of strokes on a paper that makes people well up. Well, from boredom maybe, but that’s about it.

I’m a bit weird though, if I can’t make it work the way I have in my mind, I start thinking what I CAN work with in order to make it -even if only slightly- resemble what I had in mind.
That way I once made a toy for children. A prototype of sorts. It’s not for children to play with, this prototype, as I had to make it work the way I could shape it in order to look like I wanted it to look. Does that make sense to anyone? I bought a yoga block and a yoga mat in order to fullfill my desperate need to make something I wanted to be carved from wood. You know those boxes which has shapes with a circel, block, triangle and rectangle? The kind of blocks that are learning children all over the world how to make things fit in holes? I have made one of those for the lovers of shoes. In different sizes and shapes. Cut out of yoga block and yoga mat. I figured it was a way of getting what I had in mind at least in some sort of shape so it would exist. And not just in my head.

For my other project, a peekaboo book for kids, I tried first to draw it on paper. I think I’ve never been more depressed after seeing my own work that way. So, when visiting HEMA the other day and finding they had rolls of felt in different colors, I thought: why not?

So I dug up my old sketches so at least I knew how to cut and paste, went to the store for glue (after I asked on twitter if anybody knew how to make felt attach to felt) and also bought eyes.
They happened to have them in that store.
I didn’t even think of that yet, but when the cassiere happened to mention:
‘Hold on, let me get rid of this eye first, or it’ll stick on my finger forever’, I indeed noticed the small, white, goggly eye on her finger, next to the pencil she also happened to be holding. She took a plastic tube and put the eye in there. I was a bit stunned. I took the tube, gazed at the very odd and curious looking gathering inside it. All looking at me with that expression: ‘How you doin’?’
I thought: ‘I’m shit at drawing eyes aswell, maybe I should by those too’. So I did.
I now have my first felt-book for children.
All the characters in it look massive stoned (I bought eyes with eyelashes and this is a bit trickier with pasting them, it turns out) but….I have a book!
Now all I need is to embroid it with my texts. Or at least come up with a solution of how to do that.

Mind you, things hardly ever go in the way normal people solve them if I do it. But it’s still good fun, don’t worry.

 
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Posted by on April 20, 2015 in Projects, Uncategorized

 

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Frankies’ Fifteenth

Frankie is a fourteen year old with a funny relationship to her boyfriend George (he doesn’t want anyone to know they’re dating), and an even more weird friendship to her best pal Dabby and a history of not fitting in with her peers altogether.
Then one night, Frankie has a dream. About their gymteacher….
Mrs Pilcher.
Now what?

Fragment of Frankies’ Fifteenth:

” Mathematics class was about to get started.

Frankies’ fellow pupils were stumbling around for spots that seemed alright enough to hide everything that wasn’t studymaterial-related.

A walkman, discman, headsets big and small, chewing gums in all colors, shapes and tastes of the rainbow, nail polish, hair brushes and elastic bands, all shades of velvet tip pens you weren’t supposed to use and other things that weren’t to be exposed until lunch break.

They were badly hidden behind ridiculously big brand backpacks. Without those, you had no point even bringing your beloved belongings to school in the first place. It was the innocent approach of breaking the rules, if you will. Teachers were obliged to object to them, so hiding was the best way to go. The Mathematical teacher, bearded Mr Fennel, was quite easy in approach.

He always pretended he didn’t see it. He didn’t understand what the fuzz was all about, nor did he care. Mr Fennel liked his students and as long as they did their very best, he wasn’t prone to do what was expected.

Frankie Thompson and Dabby Leavy had long found their place on the side. A perfect spot, as it had a set of tables pretty much glued to the wall. Or actually the chairs were. They could check everyone coming in and going out, as if it were a pub and they were about to order a drink they weren’t supposed to have.

The spot had the lovely possibility of leaning back against the wall with their chairs and not be bothered to keep a balance, because of it. Ideal.

Frankie had been growing so fast the past time, it felt quite liberating to her feet not touching the floor for once.

Dabby usually used the oppertunity to insult someone she fancied. Though it was hard to tell the difference, as Dabby always insulted anyone that came across. Frankie was just happy if it wasn’t herself for a change.

Frankie was really only waiting for the right moment to tell Dabby she wanted to go to the library.

Eagerly waiting for the class to be settled down, as the hours just changed and they had to walk and sit down a new classroom.

Looking at pupils who practically emptied their backpacks with all the stuff they couldn’t find. Holding her breath when it looked like they were concentrated so deeply into their works that no-one would even notice her and Dabby to exist.

Patiently waiting like an animal waits for its prey to sit exactly right, ready to attack. Waiting for the surrounding factors to be exactly right: no wind, no dust, no rivals, just an easy to catch moment. A predator waiting to attack. Trying to be a chameleon, to solve into thin air, becoming one with everyone and everything so its presence is not noted.

One could wonder what the fuzz was all about concerning the library in the first place: it were just books, nothing special, right?

But there Frankie was, sweating, trying to fix her skirt in such a way it didn’t look like she was there. Getting rid of every wrinkle in the fabric. Every crumble that could be a spot. Checking her nails, if they were in order. Neatly cut and clean, not long and creepy, like a dead finger or something. She had long and thin fingers, but enough nerves to wind up to make the existence of valium a blessing in the end. She wasn’t allowed any, of course, but her sister sometimes threatened to pour it in her drink when Frankie was acting up again.

‘Shut up or I will put Mom’s valium in your tea!’ but since Julia wasn’t here, Frankie felt she could bite her nails the way she liked. Besides, Julia also, would have no idea what it was Frankie got so worked up about. Why would she? Frankie never shared her secrets with anyone at home. Not since Terry had revealed Julia’s favorite type of underwear during dinner. And not in a subtle way either.”

Get your copy at:

 
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Posted by on April 7, 2015 in Projects, Promoting

 

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