Linzé's Mischief: 4 September 2016

Almost every morning this past week, I sat on the stairs of the time share apartment in Club Mykonos. I had my journal on my lap, a cup of coffee close by, and a view to die for. Most mornings it was a sunny view of the ocean, but the last few days a thick fog rested over the resort.
I am not a water baby - the Atlantic ocean is way too cold for me anyway - so my time was mostly spent musing about my editing, and watching people.
The complex of apartments was built in the rough shape of a horseshoe, with the open end right on the beach. Our apartment was about a 100 meters away from the beach. At times the waves crashing over the rocks were so loud that I had to go inside and close the door just to be able to think.
Early mornings were the most interesting. As I sat and observed the world, I noticed men holding a cup of coffee (I presume) were also out on their balconies (the complex has two floors of apartments) enjoying the sea air. Sometimes I saw a family having breakfast together, but never a woman. Maybe they were sleeping late or were busy inside. I found that odd.
Since Francois is an early riser and prefers the early morning light for landscape photography, I think he woke the seagulls when he did his daily walkabout. I saw some of his photographs - stunning!
If I made it to my observation post before 9 am, I spotted more photographers as they made their way to the building where the Congress presentations were held. They carried name tags to identify them - that's how I knew they were photographers. Some even had cameras with them!

The resort has two of these large chess sets and one of them was within my line of sight. It was fascinating to watch people, teenagers mostly, play the game. They must have been bored to tears if resorting to playing a game where you had to apply your brain and not your reaction time. Of course, one game was about the limit of what they could manage, and then they were off to where the wi-fi connectivity was more reliable.
The beach wasn't suitable for swimming, too many rocks, and no lifeguard. It didn't deter the odd parent and toddler to build a sandcastle, though. During our visit, the tide came in during the morning, so playtime was fairly limited.
One morning I walked around the harbour. It is not suited for commercial shipping, but judging by the number of sail- and motorised boats, it is a popular venue for people enjoying boating. They offered tourist trips on a catamaran (a rather big one to my ignorant mind) out into the bay area.

Commercial shipping made use of the harbour at Saldanha Bay a little further up the coast. We could see a tanker of some kind waiting its turn on the open sea.
On my hike around the harbour, I came across a fisherman standing on the rocks next to the harbour wall. Judging by the look on his face, he hadn't had much success that morning. Come to think about it, I think the only successful fishermen had been the reed cormorants who came in their hundreds for a quick lunch, before flying off to search for dinner somewhere else.
I didn't attend the Congress of the Photographic Society, although Francois registered me to make my meals easier to manage. Judging by the comments during the awards banquet (I did mention I was there for the food) it would seem that the photographers had the time of their lives. The speakers were well received and lots of new friends were made.
Congratulations to all the award winners, and a special mention goes to Francois (aka Hubby) for receiving his APSSA in print photography. (Photo on Instagram)

PS: I managed to edit the prologue and four chapters of my next novel. Not as much as I had planned, but considering all the rewrites, not bad for five days' work.

Book Release: METRO DIARIES - 2 by Namrata

About the Book:

Give life another chance. Laugh a little longer. let go of your past. Hold onto what you love. In short LIVE rather than just exist!



Some told, some untold, some heard and some unheard - this collection of stories will make you look at life in a different light and make you ponder over its definition of it till now.


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Reviews for Metro Diaries 1:

After touching your hearts with 'Metro Diaries - Love Classics' she is back now with stories that will redefine life for you!

The stories in Metro Diaries - Love Classics are free from any trappings of youthful slang and fashionable language stunts. These young adults are speaking to the readers with Namrata’s maturity shining through, and Namrata’s ideas of love. - Sakshi Nanda 

The language is fairly pleasant to read and the elaborate discussions between characters in each story must have taken a lot of work – because the most difficult job of all authors is to bring out human emotions in proper words. Thankfully, Namrata has concentrated upon it very well! - Dhivya Balaji

About the Author:

Namrata is A Lost Wanderer who loves travelling the length and breadth of the world. A published author in various anthologies and magazines she enjoys capturing the magic of life in her words. She is forever in pursuit of a new country and a new story.

Contact the Author:

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THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.

Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 12

David entered Amethyst's room with a grim look. Phyllis got up and waved him outside, not wanting to disturb the patient who was resting.

“What's wrong? Did things change at the factory? We saw it on the news.”

He shook his head. “Not that I know off. The problem is the press. They followed me here. I was too upset to notice until it was too late.”

His face hardened. “I don't want them to find out about Amethyst.”

Phyllis nodded in understanding. They lived with security to keep the press away, but they would make the young woman's life a nightmare if they found out she knew David and Jeff.

“How did you get here?”

Phyllis arched an eyebrow. “Sean dropped me off. Why?”

He nodded in approval. The chauffeur he employed also served as additional security for his mother.

“It means that the press doesn't know that you are inside. This place has good security, and the staff is discreet. Can we say that you came for a routine check-up or something to explain why I am here? We own this place so it would make sense for you to come here for even a minor medical reason.”

“They don't happen to be here for someone else?”

He shook his head. “Not our lucky day; I checked.”

She bit her fingernail. “What about Amethyst? We cannot just throw her to the wolves. And she cannot go home either. She will still need assistance until her hand is healed.”

He took a deep breath and let it out in frustration. “What do you suggest?”

He narrowed his eyes at the sudden gleam in Phyllis' eyes. “What are you thinking?”

She smiled. “I got this. You just be ready to talk to the press when I come back.”

“Okay,” he replied, but he didn't sound convinced even to his own ears.

In Amethyst's room, he waited and watched her sleep. He wondered if she had any idea of the impact she had made on the lives of so many people in such a short time.

The people whose lives he changed today were still in shock, and it would take a day or so before they grasp the reality of the factory closing down. But everyone would be found an opportunity, he gave his word.

He looked at his watch. He promised Jeff that they would be at the concert tonight, but now it looked like it wouldn't happen. Maybe Phyllis could ask a friend to go with her since he had heard his brother perform in several countries, while Phyllis preferred not to travel because of her asthma.

The door opened to let his mother inside.

“Everything is arranged.”

“What is?”

Even as she explained, David frowned. “It's a good plan, except for one thing.”

“What's that?”

“We need Amethyst to agree to this. Otherwise, it would be kidnapping.”

“Oh. I didn't think of that,” Phyllis replied.

He got up and stretched his arms and shoulders. “I suggest you wake her and get her permission. I am going to the bathroom and then I am going to talk to the press. Ten minutes.”

She made a sound like a snort, but he had left already.

When she turned around, two blue eyes were watching her with suspicion. “You want to kidnap me?”

Feeling foolish, Phyllis quickly explained their plan to sneak out of there to avoid the press.

Amethyst sat up. “But I am nobody, why would the press bother me?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “David and Jeff. You think I am going to sell some kind of story to the press to get my name into the papers? Why would you think that? I may be poor, but I don't do things like that!”

David rushed inside. “What is going on? We need to leave. Everything is ready.”

He looked from his mother to Amethyst. The one looked frustrated, the other about to cry. He decided the tears would be the worst so he went to the bed and took her hand in both of his. “Please do this for me. I have had a terrible day, and only want to make sure you don't have to worry about the wolves out there.”

She looked at their hands. “Are they that bad?” she whispered.

It made his heart ache to hold her and soothe her fears. Instead, he smiled. “Vultures. The lot of them.”

She smiled too. “Okay then.”

Their smiles faltered, but neither looked away.

Were her eyes so warm and open for him? He couldn't remember anyone looking at him like that. Women he knew before all had some hard edge to them. Maybe Jeff was right. Maybe he should look somewhere else for his happiness.

His hand automatically lifted to cup her cheek. Such soft skin. His thumb gently traced the curves of her bones and hovered at the edge of those kissable lips. She licked her lips and the heat level in his blood shot up to an inferno.

Is he going to kiss me? He read the question in her eyes.

Can I kiss her? He thought in return.

“Are we ready to go?” a cheerful voice interrupted, and he stepped away with regret.

Amethyst's shy smile told him she felt the loss as much as he did.

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FOLLOW ME: Club Mykonos

My husband, Francois, is one of the directors and member of the Photographic Society of South Africa (PSSA). One year ago they announced that this year their annual Congress would be held at Club Mykonos. It is situated on the outskirts of the town of Langebaan in the Western Cape.

Follow me - Johannesburg, Cape Town, and Langebaan

Now, when he mentioned that the Congress' location, I told I wanted to come along. I am not a member of PSSA, nor have I any wish to join, but letting the opportunity pass to visit this part of my country? Never!
So here we are. Have a look at some of the pics I took along the way. On that you have to forgive the quality of these images, I took them from with my mobile phone from a moving vehicle! 

Click this link https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/pssacongress2016/
or go to my Instagram profile https://www.instagram.com/linzebrandon/
or search the hashtag #PSSACongress2016 on Instagram or Facebook for some of the photographs.

THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.

Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 11

Phyllis switched off the television set. They had just seen the whole spectacle on a live news broadcast.

My heart ached for those people, but I also felt proud of the way David handled the situation. It must have been really hard to tell them that they no longer had a job.

The TV presenters didn't show what happened after that, but somehow I knew David didn't dessert his employees.

I had no right to feel that way, but there was no getting away from one's feelings. I twisted the blanket around and around as I considered my own situation. The chances of me still having a job by the time I got released was remote. It wasn't a good feeling.

I looked at Phyllis, sitting next to my bed serenely sipping her tea. To be honest, I envied her. Having money was one thing, but to be so content and happy were things I had not experienced since my parents died.

She had eaten Jeff's intended lunch, even a little of the dessert, after confessing that she didn't like ice cream or custard.

I looked at my own empty dishes. People who complained about hospital food had never gone without. My stomach was aching, but I held my tongue and finished my own cup of bush tea.

“What is going to happen to them?” I asked nodding at the TV hanging high above the floor against the wall.

Phyllis put the cup down and looked at me. “I don't know; my poor son.”

“Why did you say 'poor son'? It is his responsibility, isn't it?”

Phyllis put her cup and saucer back on the tray and sighed. “David has a brilliant mind for business strategies—”

“But not with people?”

She nodded. “He was always the quiet one, finding it hard to make friends.”

I found that almost impossible to believe given all the women I had seen him with in the tabloids. Maybe those women were only interested in his money. I couldn't be with someone and not want to talk to him. Listen to him talk about his dreams for himself and his future.

Phyllis smiled. “Jefferson is the opposite, but he chose the piano instead.”

“The piano?”

That was a surprise. I thought Jeff had been the one singing that night.

“Yes, he is a classical pianist. We should go to a performance soon. He would love it if you came.”

I couldn't afford it, but held my tongue. It would sound ungrateful after everything the Morecrofts were doing for me.

“Does he sing too?” I had to ask.

Phyllis laughed. “No, that is David's pleasure. I love it when both my sons make music together. And trust me, that doesn't happen very often these days.”

I could feel my heart jump when I remembered that rich and shiver-inducing voice. “It was David singing at the house? Outside in that theater thing you have at the back?”

“Yes, it was him. He likes to sing opera arias, the focus it requires helps him deal with stress.”

She stopped and took my good hand. “Is that why you were there? To hear him sing?”

“I didn't know he sang. I was on my way home when I heard someone sing. It drew me. It was so beautiful. I am not smart enough to understand opera, but I love music, and I couldn't help but go closer to listen.”

Embarrassed I looked down at my aching hand. “I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you. I shouldn't have gone there in the first place. Getting injured is a sign that I screwed up.”

“Nonsense,” Phyllis replied. “None of us think that. In fact, we are all happy to have met you.” She winked. “My sons especially.”

“I like them too,” I replied avoiding her eyes.

Exhaustion dragged me down in the bed, and I closed my eyes. My foot hurt, but it was okay. I was going to be okay. It was what survivors did.

Even drifting off I wondered why David didn't sing all the time. He had such a beautiful and expressive voice. My problems didn't exist when I listened to him sing.

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Linzé's Mischief: 23 August 2016

New Year's Resolutions and Unfinished Paintings

I am all for having New Year's resolutions, but like many people I have a hard time sticking to them. This year, however, seems to be the exception to that rule - to my delight, I have to say.
When the first of the year rolled around - seven months and a few hundred hours ago - I made myself the promise to do more art this year. Sure, I have always set aside one month of the year, usually December, where I do nothing else except art.
But as a writer first and foremost, this created some problems: despite my intentions, I always ended up writing instead. I did paint, or sketch, but not as much as I wanted to, and always had to spend more time getting my fingers into 'art' more instead of writing mode.
So I set a new challenge for myself: I was going to do art one weekend every month. It lessens the guilt and withdrawal symptoms of not writing for days on end, and my fingers don't forget their art skills. Win-win all around!
And it has been working like a charm. I have three books (maybe four) coming out this year, one being the fourth novel in my fantasy romance series, and I have managed to do more sketching and painting than I have managed in the Decembers of the past few years.
After submitting my tiger for the Art Feeds the Soul competition in my art group earlier this week, I have been wondering what to do next. I have some ideas, one or two already outlined, but somehow the call of the paintbrush/pencil/pastel didn't come when I looked at those. Frustrated, I went back to editing Waiting for Adrian, and then got stuck in a scene where I have to rewrite the whole thing.
Irritated with my lack of progress in any creative project, I set about cleaning up the library (where I paint) at home. And there stood (taller than I am!) an unfinished painting that I started many years ago. I took off the very dusty plastic covering and stared at it for an indecent amount of time - it was like staring at the scary blank screen when starting a new writing project. Something had to be done!
It is an abstract resembling a lead-glass window inspired by a book I bought, even more years ago with the designs from Frank Lloyd Wright. I took one look at that book and bought it without giving it a second thought. So while my brain ponders the rewrite of that very important scene between Erin and Adrian, I will be expending my creative energies on painting my orchid lead-glass window on canvas.

What do you do when a creative project is not going to plan?

THE BILLIONAIRE BARITONE

Amethyst loves music and enjoys hip-hop dancing to spice up her dull and dreary life. But one evening on her way home from dance class, she hears a voice that drew her away from her route.

Caught in the act of eavesdropping, her life is about to change in a way she has never foreseen.

David didn't quite know what to do with the beautiful trespasser, but when he learned that she was injured, taking care of her was the only solution.

Little did he suspect that she was about to take care of his lonely heart in return.

CHAPTER 10

With worried faces, the managers followed David into the building as the fire alarms started screeching.

They followed him to the production floor and then outside to the loading bays where the two groups were now throwing insults at each other. The women looked scared and were clutching their purses like a lifeline.

Once they were spotted the crowd turned their ire to them. David raised his arms. The crowd quieted down.

Those arrested were put inside police vehicles with bars and armour protection.

“You remember last year during the strike of the whole textile industry I told you if anything like that would ever happen again, I would have to close down the factory.”

People were getting fidgety.

David looked around. The labour representative was missing. Typical. Now that he was in trouble, he left the people he was supposed to represent to fend for themselves. Maybe they would learn from this and stop supporting people who didn't really care about them.

“That day has come,” David continued. “The sabotage this morning destroyed the future this factory still had once and for all.”

A roar started up, and the police reinforced their position.

David held up his arms once more and waited for long minutes for the crowd to quiet down again.

As he waited, he heard a young woman say to her friend. “What now? I have a baby. Where am I going to get a job?” She started crying.

Amethyst's face appeared before him. Like her, they were people who depended on their salaries to support themselves and their families.

He never got involved at this level of his businesses, but meeting Amethyst changed all of that.

“I know this is a difficult situation that we didn't plan for—”

“What do you know? We need these jobs to feed our families!”

David nodded. “I know. If you would give me a chance to continue?”

The crowd murmured among themselves but kept looking at him.

“As I said, we didn't plan for this to happen. We have a list of everyone who have families to support and we will start with you. Single parents and single income families will be looked at first to see where we can find work for you.”

He looked around. “Where are the HR people?”

Five people raised their hands in the air.

He pointed towards them while addressing the crowd. “Okay. Make sure that they have your details on files and that your work experience record is up to date. I will have them contact other companies in the area, to start looking for opportunities for you. This might take a few days, so please be patient. Your salaries are covered until the end of the month, so there is no need to panic. Any questions?”

While he answered questions, the young woman who mentioned her baby came forward and managed to get onto the loading dock with him. Without saying anything she ran forward and hugged David.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her face.

He swallowed hard as she stood back and blushed furiously. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

He reached out and took her hand. “No, I am sorry that this had happened, but we are going to try and make it better again. Okay?”

She nodded, smiling now.

He nodded to one of the women who stuck up her hand earlier. “Please start with...what's your name?”

“Cynthia,” she whispered.

“Cynthia,” he continued, making the crowd applaud.

When the questions were no longer coming, he turned to the managers still with him. “Our people got a raw deal today. Make sure you pull all your contacts and favours to help them get jobs in the area.”

He pointed a finger at them. “I want daily progress reports. Not just numbers, I want the details Who, where, when they start, their new salaries, benefits, the works. Got that?”

They all nodded.

“Good. Your futures depend on your success in helping them,” David said and pointed over his shoulder, “and helping the police sort through all the evidence they need.”

He paused for a long moment. “I have a feeling this wasn't some random labour incident.”

“Get going,” he ordered. He looked at the financial manager. “Nicole, walk me to my car.”

As they walked, they discussed the process to shut down the factory.

“I will get on it right away,” she said as he got into his car.

“Let John know if you need anything.” John Lambert was the chief financial officer of the whole group of companies.

She nodded. “I will.”

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