The Friendship Affair

Not all long lasting marriages are happy. But what do you do if divorce is not an option?

University friends, Stephanie and Nick, meet again after twenty years. But life has not been easy or simple for either of them. Will this friendship affair stand a chance against reality? 

CHAPTER 10

Three hours later she knew they had crossed some boundary from which there was no going back.
Some instinct made her lift up on her elbow to look him in the eye.
There was no smile or teasing glint in their blue depths.
“We just burned a bridge, didn't we?” he asked glancing over her shoulder at the photograph on her bedside table.
She laid back down with her head on his shoulder. There was no point in denying it.
“Yes.”
He looked around the room. Earlier they had been too lost in each other for him to pay any attention.
“You live alone.” It was a statement. Again there was no point in arguing. It was obvious from the decoration and layout. One person occupied this bedroom.
He half-shifted, half-rolled to his left and cupped her cheek. “Tell me about him.”
She blinked. “Why?” her voice cracked.
He took her left hand and drew a finger over the wedding rings.
“You are not the kind of woman who would wear these unless you were still married and your husband was alive.”
She pulled her hand away and got up not bothering to find her dressing gown. At her age, she was no longer worried about what a man thought of her naked body. If young women knew how little men cared for perfect legs and perfect breasts, they would be much happier. All three her previous lovers had been younger, and they had been the ones to do the chasing.
He was older, as was her husband. She glanced at the picture. It had been taken just days before he was diagnosed.
She turned back to the window. It overlooked the city. When the sun shone bright, as it did now, you could almost see the end of the world. The apartments were built on a hill, and she had been lucky to find this place.
“I cannot desert him, not like his family did.”

Read Chapters 1 to 7 on Wattpad

Book Launch: Mosaics: A Collection of Independent Women Vol 1

Today's the day, all the excitement, all the anticipation, and now it's finally here. And don't forget to enter the mega giveaway, including a Kindle Fire, a $50 gift card, and a paperback library, at the end of this post!

A project focused on bringing women's voices to readers and celebrating the stories they have to tell. Including stories by Keyan Bowes, Carol Cao, Chelo Diaz-Ludden, Sarina Dorie, Naomi Elster, Jordanne Fuller, Ari Harradine, ​Karen Heuler, L.S. Johnson, Tonya Liburd, Kelsey Maki, Julia Ray, Patty Somlo, P.K. Tyler, Deborah Walker, Keira Michelle Telford, ​Kim Wells, Elizabeth Wolf, and Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

Mosaics: A Collection of Independent Women Vol 1

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Mosaics: A Collection of Independent Women will inspire and shock you with its multi-faceted look at the history and culture surrounding femininity. If gender is a construct, this anthology is the house it built. Look through its many rooms, some bright and airy, some terrifying- with monsters lurking in the shadows.

Mosaics Volume One features twenty self-identified female authors writing about Intersectionality, including women of color, and members of the disability, trans, and GLB/ GSD* (Gender and Sexual Diversities) communities. We have curated amazing short fiction, flash fiction, poetry, essays, and art. It’s personal, political, and a great read.

This collection includes Hugo Award Nominees, Tiptree Shortlists, Pushcart Prize Winners, USA Today Bestsellers, indie superstars and traditionally published talents alike. The anthology combines leading and new voices all proclaiming their identity as Women, and their ability to Roar.

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The Friendship Affair

Not all long lasting marriages are happy. But what do you do if divorce is not an option?

University friends, Stephanie and Nick, meet again after twenty years. But life has not been easy or simple for either of them. Will this friendship affair stand a chance against reality?

CHAPTER 9

Dropping the backpack, Stephanie stepped over rocks right up to the edge as far as she dared. Then looked down.

She had to sit. Her mind was incapable of comprehending what she saw.

“Amazing, isn't it?”

Gasping she slipped from the rock holding her hand to her heart.

He had steadied her before she reached the ground.

He sat next to her.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”

She looked back at the waterfall dropping into the whirlpool below.

“Is this thing for real?”

She had to shout to make herself heard, even though he was sitting with his shoulder touching hers.

He grinned and nodded.

The water was deafening and yet she felt as if she could just sit there. Sit and listen to the forces of nature. Sit and watch the destruction taking place right before her eyes.

She looked up. The tree canopy was dense, and she could hardly make out the cloudy sky between the foliage.

“Where does the water come from and go?”

He got up and helped her to her feet.

He collected her backpack and started back into the direction of the cottage. At least, that was where she thought they were going. Her mobile was in the pack.

“There is an underground river that runs the length of the city.,” he replied once they were away from the noise. “This is the only place where it runs above ground. It is dangerous, and you shouldn't come here alone.”

She frowned at him. “You were alone. Doesn't make it less dangerous to you.”

He stopped and turned around. “You are right, but I grew up here. I know there is a gorge, not visible because of the plants, not far from where you sat, that drops straight down into the water below. If you stepped into that, you would have died.”

She paled. “You are right. I am sorry.”

She looked over her shoulder. From this angle, she could see a rusted metal grid between the rocks on the opposite side.

She pointed at it. “What about that?”

He sighed. “It wears away. Replacing it has become too dangerous and costly.”

“Shouldn't there be warning signs or something?”

He looked grim. “There were. People still ignored them.”

“How many?” she whispered sensing that this place haunted him somehow.

“Five.”

He abruptly turned and started walking again.

Since he didn't use the path she had, she rushed after him.

When they reached the cottage, they had exited the trees not far from she had entered, he kept on walking.

“Please wait.”

He stopped but didn't turn around.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

“Why?”

She came closer and touched his arm. “Because this place is very personal to you.” She pointed in the direction of the waterfall. “And something happened there to make the memories painful.”

He nodded. “You're right. Three teenage boys ignored the signs and fell into the gorge. Two of the guys working with my dad saw what happened and went after them. They all drowned. The bodies were never found.”

“And they blamed your father?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. There was nothing anyone could have done, but the families of the boys blamed my dad because their children did something stupid and died. It was the last time he ever came here.”

She held her tongue and followed him back to her car.

He handed her the pack and watched her put it in the trunk.

“Don't go there again, please.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I won't. You have my word.”

She stepped closer and hugged him as hard as she could. He only hesitated a moment before his arms enclosed her smaller frame.

He stepped back. “You're shivering. Please go home and take a warm shower before you get sick.”

She stepped closer once more and put her hand on his chest. His heart was still racing.

“Come with me.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he looked at her, there was a heat there that had nothing to do with fear. “Are you sure?”

She smiled and stood on tiptoe to give him a soft kiss. “Yes. I am sure.”

Don't want to search for the previous chapters? Read them on Wattpad

Linzé's Mischief: 6 March 2016

I have been working through a spreadsheet I keep with a list of all the manuscripts I have written up to now. Unlike the spreadsheet where I keep track of the words I have written for each story, this sheet is about the status of each story. Whether it has been published, if it still has to be edited and where it fits into the series if it is part of one.

I also mark the stories that will never be published. Sometimes you just know it will never work, so canning it is part of moving on. I have no sentimental feelings for any of my stories, as I have read that some authors do, so putting a story on permanent ice has no impact on me, except maybe irritation that I wasted so much time writing it before realising it is never going to work.

According to my list I have written, or am in the process of writing, 90 manuscripts. Of these 7 has been iced, 15 have been published on various platforms and 14 are ready to be edited. I don't like editing much, so am a bit lazy when that final step arrives before sending it to a professional editor. Once the editor has worked through it though, I am super quick to get the changes made and get it ready for publication. I am just weird, I think.

So that leaves another 53 manuscripts in various stages of completion, some of which are so close as 90% done. There is a scene or two needed, usually in the middle or at the end before the first draft is done.

It is this list that I have been contemplating for Camp NaNoWriMo coming in April. Three, maybe four, stories to finish before moving on to the next.

With project JOURNEY going to need more and more of my time during the second half of this year, I have decided to do as much now as I can and then re-evaluate the status of my projects later in the year.

I need to re-assess some other things in my life too, but for now they have to wait for about three weeks until things at work calm down to their normal pressure level as opposed to the stress of the looming financial year-end.

Remember to be back on Tuesday for the next chapter of the Friendship Affair.

The Friendship Affair

Not all long lasting marriages are happy. But what do you do if divorce is not an option?

University friends, Stephanie and Nick, meet again after twenty years. But life has not been easy or simple for either of them. Will this friendship affair stand a chance against reality? 

CHAPTER 8

With her chores and shopping done for the week, Stephanie felt that the walls of the apartment were about ready to crush her. She missed the space and the garden of the house, but she couldn't afford to stay there with all the bills.

Medical insurance covered Frederick's care in the centre, but while he was still being treated at the initial stages of the illness, there were a lot of expenses.

At least, she had gotten a good enough price on the house, to get rid of all those debts.

She grabbed her keys. She had to get out.

It had finally started raining, relieving some of the oppressive heat of the past few days. It was still drizzling, but she didn't mind as the car almost drove itself to the fairy garden.

Since the locals didn't want the place advertised, there was no parking in the direct vicinity. She drove to the coffee shop and left the car there.

Flipping open her umbrella, she adjusted the small backpack she bought in the week. It was a pleasant walk, and she was hopeful of a quiet stroll because of the weather.

She wasn't disappointed at all.

The garden smelled fresher and even looked greener with the rain. At the fifth bench, she turned off the main path and changed direction towards the cottage.

It was still there.

He had told her the building wasn't safe to enter, so she stayed outside looking into the windows wondering who had lived there.

“How on earth can you keep a secret like this?” she mused when reaching the back of the cottage. From here the rot was more visible, and she understood his warning. There was another path leading away from the cottage.

Activating the recording function on the navigation app on her mobile phone, just in case she got lost, Stephanie stepped into the unknown.

In this part of the park, the trees and plants were so dense that the umbrella was a hindrance more than an aid. She stopped and shook out the water as best she could, before putting it in a side pocket of the backpack designed for the umbrella.

It was still drizzling, but she decided it wasn't worth fussing about as she started walking again.

Unlike the footpaths in the public spaces of the park, here it was paved with stones and more uneven.

“Good thing, my hiking boots still fit,” she muttered as she pushed yet another branch out of the way.

Was that a river?

She knew the city had a river or two still flowing, but she had never heard of one in this part. Maybe it was a water channel left over from the days when this was still farmland.

Intrigued she kept going. The louder the noise, the more careful she stepped.

Quickly checking that her mobile phone was still operational, she continued.

Stepping into a small clearing, she stopped and gasped aloud.

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Book Review: Latina Authors and their Muses by Mayra Calvani

I volunteered to read and review this non-fiction book. First off, I didn't like the format of the book. It is a collection of one interview after the other. While it is okay to read an interview, this many was a bit of a challenge. The author interviewed 40 Latina authors.

What I should have done, and only realised this about 40% through, was to check the table of contents first to see if I knew any of the authors being interviewed. Not personally of course, but knew as in have read any of their books.

I wasn't familiar with the majority of the authors, purely because I don't read in their genre. I did find one author who happened to be a favourite of mine, Caridad Piñeiro. I love her books and skipped immediately to her interview.

I would suggest that you do the same if you want to read this book.

From the interviews I did read, and I read many of them in detail, the authors were forthcoming in their answers. Their words could serve as inspiration to many young and new authors, and not only if you are of South American descent.

The interviews showed that even though these Latin ladies are published, and many award-winning and best-selling authors, their struggles would be familiar to many authors or aspiring authors. I quite liked their comments on their muses. Despite their sometimes humorous take on the muse, it is clear that inspiration is only a small part of the story and hard work the true way to get things done.

If you are looking to read a book about how real authors deal with the daily grind of producing stories and how they got to be where they are today, this will open your eyes to what the real life of a writer is like.

I give it 

Linzé's Mischief: 28 February 2016

This year is two months old and already people are asking: where did the time go? Time is not ticking by any faster than it did last year or the year before or even ten years ago, and yet people still ask. I have been wondering about that for a while now. Why do we feel that time goes by faster, when in actual fact it does not.

Does it have to do with the rat race we found ourselves in? Or perhaps it is the increasing levels of stress we have to deal with every day? Or perhaps...I don't know...drifting along doing what is required - work, family, chores, work. Would we feel the same if we lived life for ourselves?

I don't mean that in a selfish, egocentric way, but do we even bother to make an appointment with ourselves, to meet our own needs of comfort and pleasure and self-expression?

My husband mentioned that December and January flew by at the speed of white light, but didn't make the same statement about February. While I was sketching today, I had a thought about that.

Yes, December and January for us had been hectic. Some things unplanned crossed our paths and for that he could be forgiven to think that time flew by.

But February was not like that, was it? Yes, we were busy, for him especially but that is normal in our lives.

I did another lesson in my tai chi class today - I am a bit behind on learning new forms, although I have been keeping up with my practicing. Especially after my horrible day yesterday, had an awful migraine that kept me in bed most of the time, another lesson was a welcome distraction. But it also reminded me of what I am doing with my time. My tai chi teacher (I am doing David Dorian-Ross' course) mentioned that a student of tai chi should be more aware of her next move. Her next choice. Her reaction towards a threat or simply what is going on around her. This way you have a measured response, a responsible counter reaction.

I think it is true about everything going on around us. A little philosophical perhaps, but maybe it is necessary to step back once in a while and think about the future. Time is only in our future. We cannot do anything about what has gone past. If we are more aware of what we spend our time on, on where we are wasting our time, will this not help to not ask the question 'where did the time go?'

Maybe I am more aware of time with the passing of my mother recently, but I think it was just one more prompt for me to look at what I am doing with my time and my life. Am I using time as best I can, or am I fooling myself about it?

Francois had been to a Photographic Society board meeting today and upon his return, he asked me what the soccer score had been between Man U and Arsenal. I had no idea. I didn't watch the game. I was utilising my time on the activity I promised myself as my new year's resolution - doing art. It will be a gift for a family member. Until he asked, I didn't know they had a game today. I used to love watching, but it has become less important to me. Maybe it never really was that important to begin with.

Are you still keeping up with that resolution for 2016? Is your time spent doing the important things you have been promising yourself? Do I dare ask the question: where did your time go this year?