via Creatives in profile: interview with No Alibis Press

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I’m finally on holiday this week after a long summer of watching my family, friends and work colleagues jet off to various exotic places around the world. I won’t be going on any plane to take me to my own slice of paradise. I’m in the gorgeous Glens of Antrim for a full ten days. 

I have spent the majority of the first few days with my two youngest children. It is just fantastic to have some alone time with them. With working two jobs and various autism groups I don’t get that much time with them throughout the year so I cherish this time with them. 

Yesterday we had the worst storm in recent memory with flashes of lightning that turned night to into day, crashes of thunder that felt like the mountains collapsing and torrential rain that threatened to wash our beloved caravan into the sea.  I’m sure it was pure coincidence that this storm coincided with the arrival of my partner and her family. This morning the storm had abated and now I write this while lounging outside in glorious sunshine. 

I will be spending a few days with this family, showing them the sights of this beautiful area. They are leaving on Friday with my children giving me a few days on my own. Although I’ll miss my children this gives me a rare opportunity to knuckle down on my writing with no distractions to annoy me. 

The children are returning to school next week which signals Summer’s end. Being in full time work means that those summers of my youth are long gone but there is still a sadness to say goodbye to this season. 

Well here I am again. Every time I restart this blog I make a promise that this time I will stick it out and try and keep my writing up to date. It never happens. I enjoy writing but something always holds me back from doing that bit extra needed to become an accomplished writer. 

It’s not just my writing that is suffering. My whole personal life has gone downhill. I haven’t been on a night out in almost a year. I shun social situations. All my life I have always been the quiet one of the group, be it a group of friends, at work or even my family. I consider myself painfully shy and have been able to mask this with that wonderful Irish tonic, alcohol. But I can’t be drunk all the time. 

I am gradually putting myself into social situations. Just last week I attended a book launch for a local author I admire (Waters and the Wild by Jo Zebedee). I sat in the audience and clapped politely after each reading and afterwards I even spoke to the author! Yes I spluttered out my words and tried to escape from the conversation but I put myself out there. Small steps.

I have been inspired by my cousins who have recently shown a great determination to turn their lives around. One cousin has lost three stone in weight and another cousin has taken great strides in improving her (already impressive) writing skills. I wish them well and I hope they continue to improve. I want that too.

I haven’t spoke to my cousins about their positive actions other than to congratulate them and wish them good luck. And therein lies my own problem. I know that if I was to ask either of these guys for advice they would offer it gladly. I don’t ask for help. This isn’t a stupid stubborn male thing. I have a fear of being laughed at or being told no. It is something I have to work on but I have been inspired to improve myself.

I have started a walking regime and am eating granola every morning in an effort to lose weight. This worked for me before when I needed to lose weight for an operation. I have also sent off some writing for a competition. I have continued to write some short stories and poems and now seems like a good time to see if they are any good. If I don’t hear back then I will continue to write and send off a least one piece a month.

So it’s been a while since my last post. I’ve had a bit of bother recently on social media. As some of you might know I have had a long struggle in trying to get contact with my son, James. A few years back I set up a twitter account in his name. The purpose of this account was to enable me to send tweets about my son whenever I felt a bit lost in life or when I was missing him the most. It would also serve as a record that I did not give up on him and that I was always there.

This September past James turned fourteen. I decided to take a leap of faith and reach out to him. I knew he was on Facebook even though I had been blocked from viewing his page. I set up a different Facebook account and on his birthday I sent him a message wishing him a Happy Birthday and telling him that I missed him and giving him contact information including my twitter feed so that if he needed anything he could just ask me.

Unfortunately his so-called “mother” found out and contacted both Facebook and Twitter to get my accounts suspended. I’ve lost all access to both accounts. On top of that I’ve been threatened by someone close to James. The guy who threatened me is as much a victim as James and myself. He has been fed lies for years about me. All he knows is only what he’s been told and as a result I hold no ill feelings towards him. I won’t go to the police unless of course the threat is carried out.

It’s not a total loss though. James has learned that I am still thinking of him and have never forgotten him. Also, having dealt with his so-called “mother” for many years, knowing the depths she will stoop to protect her house of lies from falling down, I took out my own insurance policy. I got screen shots every time I made a post or sent a message.

I don’t send threatening messages. 

Never have, never will.

This blog sums up my feelings perfectly.

Katyboo1's Weblog

It is day four in the Big Brexit house.

I had hoped after Friday’s absolute catastrophe of a day that the country might somehow magically rally over the weekend. I mean, when you plunge your country into possible ruin on the promise of a golden future that will allow it to rise like a phoenix from the flames, you have a plan, right?

As it turns out, you don’t. The only person that seems to have any plan at all, and be acting on it rather than just spouting meaningless Churchillian rhetoric is Nicola Sturgeon, and I can’t even vote for her.

I was distraught and angry on Friday. I had hoped to feel better by today. Instead I am running on barely controlled rage and getting more enraged by the moment.

Here are a few things I am furious about:

Firstly, leave voters telling me to calm down. I’m sorry…

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paulrobinsonwrites

When there is any debate engaged in the public sphere on the role of religion or conscience or rights there is a lot of talk of belief. How beliefs shape the way we live and act, what we think is right or wrong and how that manifests itself in how we treat each other. Yet, in the midst of all the media reporting and blogging and tweeting about the Asher’s case there has been one voice that has not been mentioned by Christians in all the furor.

Jesus.

Now before I lose you, and maybe I’ve already lost some of you, this is not an attempt to get you to believe one side over an other. This is not an attempt to bring you round to one understanding or to lay out an array of Bible verses to support or reject gay marriage. It is simply my attempt at bringing…

View original post 1,782 more words