tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54573400093813346682024-03-13T12:05:51.003+00:00The Sifting of AshesAn easily distracted writer tries to make sense of the world, by sifting through the ashes of daily life. Cooking and writing might be my salvation, but people, stories, music and the radio feed my soul.Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-50426886755428711462011-12-27T10:33:00.004+00:002011-12-27T10:49:52.533+00:00Prequel to Cannes independent film networking event<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><p><br /></p></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size: large; ">A date for your diary... It's back... The Prequel to Cannes 2012 Independent film networking event, is bigger and better, now over two days of action packed activities for Writers, Actors, Film Folk, Film Crew as well as coming face to face with Corporate clients who use Film folk. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 15px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><p>The Next Prequel to Cannes film, television and theatre networking event is on <strong>Wednesday 8th and Thursday 9th February 2012</strong> at Lighthouse Poole, Dorset. Tickets go on sale through Lighthouse Box Office 0844 406 8666 just in time for some last minute Christmas or New Year presents.</p><p>Follow us on Twitter <strong>@prequel2cannes</strong> for the latest updates and breaking news.</p><p>This is an established and successful top notch event with professional support from industry led consultants, accredited film folk, creative agencies, organisations and guilds. A must for all those who need to talk about or secure collaboration, knowledge or interest, funding or advice about their film, television or theatre projects. </p><p>An action packed two day line-up, kicking off with 'Pitch Factor' a Masterclass with Lucy V from Bang2write. Then there is a great opportunity to put into practice your knowledge and 'Pitch to the Panel' for the 'Pitch Pot Prize fund' with a guaranteed minimum amount of £50 to the victor.</p><p>There will be two other Masterclasses about writing and directing for film and television, with jobbing writer and organiser of Tony Jordan's Red Planet Prize, Danny Stack; one thing you can be sure about is that Danny will tell it as it is, as well as bring structure to your writing career and give you hope that true writing talent coupled with hard work will always shine through.</p><p>Prequel to Cannes has teamed up with Dramatic Productions to be able to offer semi-professional or professional actors the opportunity to be 'spotted' during the photo shoots or screen tests, and actors who show great promise or charisma will be invited back on Thursday for a free audition. (Please note that it is not a pre-requisite to have any of the photographic services on offer to be considered for Agency representation; the low cost service is being provided for actors in an attempt to aid their careers). </p><p>At a very reasonable cost, Prequel to Cannes has teamed up with London Fashion photographer Ben Trill and Esther Yarnold of Interim, to provide an opportunity to have Black and White head and shoulder photographs taken, that will be suitable for Spotlight. In addition, actors who do not already have a screen test reel (this is not a show reel but a rehearsed piece to camera), will be able to perform a screen test and keep this record for their existing portfolios. The successful visual artist and stylist Hazel Evans, will be on hand to give last minute advice and hints on styling for photographs. </p><p>Dramatic Productions will open their Agency books, in an active search to represent new acting talent for film, theatre and corporate work. Prequel to Cannes is delighted to support Dramatic Productions as they launch their new Actors' Agency during the gala packed evening on Wednesday 8th February 2012. Meet the actors, talk to Sasha about her Agency plans and projects and learn how she can help to support your film or business projects.</p><p>In honour of the prolific and successful television, film and theatre writer Jeremy Paul, Creative Thoughts Productions is delighted to launch the Jeremy Paul Award for Theatre Writing. Full details will be available on the night of Wednesday 8th February 2012. </p><p>A whole host of fantastic activities will take place in and around the Cinema, with the Cinema Bar being at the centre of the networking hub. The cinema will be the focus for some exceptional sessions you will not want to miss. </p><p>If you have ever asked yourself one or more of these four questions then this session will be for you: 1) Why should I go to Cannes festival? 2) Do I need accreditation? 3) What do I need to take with me? 4) How much is it likely to cost? You will be able to discover the real facts about getting to Cannes from three Festival veterans, who between them have a string of nominations and awards. </p><p>Meet A. D. Cooper the 2009 winner of the Prequel to Cannes short film script competition, Alice has directed her winning script and her film 'The view from the window' currently in post-production. London based Alice, has already received international recognition in New York and Cannes, for her other short film called 'Feet'. </p><p>A showreel will showcase some of the leading film talent from across the South and Suzy Wheeler, sister of the uber cool from Strawberry Fields represents, will be on hand to tell you about an exciting new film venture happening in Bournemouth in 2012. White Lantern Film will also be available to talk about their monthly B-Reel film events held at the Dance Pavilion in Bournemouth. </p><p>It promises to be one heck of a two day feast... Join us even if it is on Thursday night at the Mafia style Meltdown networking meal...</p><p>The full 2 day programme will be available to download soon... please note this is an over 18's film industry event. </p></span></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyG7r75IYQFiKYqk0ccXTvN5Xk--uJUjBYoUOcpNl6bFNkPFNxq0BnJbqr6mTlceOyeQRI7LXIbMIrXtORITw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-30203528278437654132011-07-08T11:00:00.002+01:002011-07-08T11:02:07.523+01:00Prequel to Cannes blogspotRemember for those who would like to follow me on my other blog, it is called Prequel to Cannes. See you there...<div><br /></div><div>R with best wishes...</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-45312875599702126982011-07-08T10:54:00.002+01:002011-07-08T10:59:36.607+01:00The Prequel and Sequel to Cannes Feature film script competition<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">And a new day dawns...</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Congratulations to the winners of the Prequel and Sequel to Cannes feature film script competition. A closely fought dual over the first prize was brought to a nail-biting conclusion.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">1st Prize £500 for <i>'Faith'</i> by Dom Carver and 2nd Prize £100 for <i>'Since you've been gone'</i> by Lisa Barrass.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Our best wishes from all the judges and staff at HQ... Submissions are now being accepted for the 2011/12 short and feature film script. Get writing, you have to be in it to win it!...<br /></span></span><div><br /></div></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-70553959467723158572011-04-07T10:02:00.002+01:002011-04-07T10:14:27.059+01:00New Blog<div><br /></div><div><a href="http://prequeltocannes.blogspot.com/2011/04/new-day-dawns.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">New Blog</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://prequeltocannes.blogspot.com/2011/04/new-day-dawns.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;">Prequel to Cannes</span></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; ">It would be wonderful if all my previous followers would like to follow me on my new blog. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The sifting of ashes has been a great learning curve for me in the life of blogs... the main purpose of creating it was to kick start my daily writing regime, muse over the filling that goes into the stuffing of my daily writing. But life took over and I was thwacked by the everyday wand... you know the one that jumps out of the cupboard every morning and threatens to give you a good beating before you can actually get on with anything you want to do...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have had time to reflect on the main message and purpose of the blog so finally I know, I hope I have found its purpose, so now I just need to master my voice.... please join me if you will on this journey and if you chose to jump ship, I thank you for your contributions, encouragement and support... </span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-76059380275469292792010-12-26T11:27:00.007+00:002010-12-26T12:10:16.174+00:00Well, well, well<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/TRcs3-SL3EI/AAAAAAAAAO8/c6O7cFryO0A/s1600/Blog%2Bsnow.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/TRcs3-SL3EI/AAAAAAAAAO8/c6O7cFryO0A/s200/Blog%2Bsnow.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554958005508496450" /></a><div>Who would have thought that the year turned out as it did? It has been a bit of a roller coaster ride, which found me hanging on for grim death at one point, while all about me fell apart.</div><div><br /></div><div>May found me meeting up with all my foodie friends in a beautiful barn in Rye, Sussex and a spring wardrobe, not a jacket or coat in my case, only to find that on the Tuesday it snowed and I was racing around Tenterden in a cardi trying to find any shop that had a warm coat...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;"> <a href="http://www.joules.com/en-GB/1/New-Collection">Joules</a></span> came up trumps and I didn't have the coat off my back for the entire holiday... then I came home to Dorset a week later to a mini heat wave.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a repreive from the ongoing saga of the bathroom, which was finally resolved by Team 3 in October, on account of the first one man team cocked up, the second two man team (one of which experienced a severe lapse in judgement) which resulted in my brand new furniture and fittings ending up Bukshee in someone elses personal development project; they thought I would never know or find out... I am a writer for the Lord's sake... it is my job to be nosy and uncover and discover the light and shade on the road to resolution... it is just in some people the dark side lies beneath and surface, nestled in their ego which they are only too happy to share! The motto? Builders beware... so the third team was sent in to clear up and clear off, eventually resulting in a full refund and a bathroom that was usable and finished to a high standard; true eleven months later than promised but none-the-less vacated and finished.</div><div><br /></div><div>So what good has come out of this fluff and stuff? Plans for a 2012 Calendar with artsy friends called 'Water Babies', which will not only help to promote artists around the local area, but will raise some funds for a clean water charity too. It is all to do with the Ying and Yang of life... </div><div><br /></div><div>My two film script <a href="http://www.prequel.biz/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">competitions</span></a> have been well and truly launched, having been endorsed by the <a href="http://acblack.com/writersandartistsyearbook2010"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">Writers' and Artists' Yearbook</span></a> under the competitions listings, I am revisiting my cookbook and knocking it into shape for submission to an agent and after attending the <a href="http://www.londonscreenwritersfestival.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#3333FF;">London Screenwriters' Festival</span></a> in October, I am also totally rewriting one of my rom-coms. So all in all the events and projects I can control have taken a turn for the better, or worked their way nearer to some kind of resolution.</div><div><br /></div><div>Christmas is here and I have managed to find time to revisit my blog... The only temporary annoyance is that my new phone does not want to upload my images, so photo's will follow at some stage. I am also thinking of totally revamping the look and appeal and maybe even the purpose of the blog, but for that I need more time to set aside.</div><div><br /></div><div>So for the moment, I wish you all a very happy, healthy and blessed Seasonal break and good fortune in 2011.</div><div><br /></div><div>From Foxi with love...</div><div><br /></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-91563977682109035232010-07-28T12:22:00.002+01:002010-07-28T12:27:41.819+01:00Coming Soon<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Witch is back... </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> after a long break and months filled with everything to take me away from my blog... I'm back. No I haven't been in prison, on a secret overseas mission from M or unblocking the drains following my disastrous bathroom installation, just stuck in the fast lane with my foot firmly glued to the accelerator pedal, trying to move into the slow lane and take the slip road off to a place called Sanity.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Watch this space.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-7087800855233559892010-02-05T22:59:00.003+00:002010-02-05T23:10:01.966+00:00Home is where the heart is...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2yj0QR93aI/AAAAAAAAAOc/oRrOOWPgGiw/s1600-h/PMD+heart+cushion.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2yj0QR93aI/AAAAAAAAAOc/oRrOOWPgGiw/s200/PMD+heart+cushion.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434898968448196002" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As much as one might enjoy home cooking, there are occasions when eating out is just soooo good. I must declare the reason I enjoy eating at home is because I know exactly where my ingredients are sourced. So if I do venture out, I want to ensure that the experience will be memorable on the food front at least. I have yet to be disappointed with the menu on offer at pick more daisies in Wimborne. The staff and service is faultless, the food stunning and the surrounding a bit quirky and reminiscent of the best type of clean hippy offerings available in Bristol, Camden or Glastonbury. Honest food served with imagination and flair. Check it out.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div><div><a href="http://www.daisiesrestaurantwimborne.co.uk/dinner.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.daisiesrestaurantwimborne.co.uk/dinner.htm</span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.daisiesrestaurantwimborne.co.uk/dinner.htm"></a>Sometimes simple is best. Well sourced food, perfectly cooked, well presented, just makes for a wonderful experience. Pick More Daisies has to be one of my most favourite local places to indulge in good food, friendly service and remarkable prices. Again this year I will be ordering the Pinenut tart to take to our foodie reunion in May, near Rye.</span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.daisiesrestaurantwimborne.co.uk/dinner.htm"></a>Divine, simple, good food, Scandinavian shaker charm.</span></div></div></div></div></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-91511607432828769422010-02-05T22:50:00.004+00:002010-04-02T10:21:58.933+01:00<div><br /></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-79928370557933258002010-02-05T16:56:00.004+00:002010-02-05T17:19:43.000+00:00Another day in the life of...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2xOJNeviFI/AAAAAAAAAOM/uB8c89xi87Y/s1600-h/The+cress+diet.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2xOJNeviFI/AAAAAAAAAOM/uB8c89xi87Y/s200/The+cress+diet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434804770473740370" /></a><div style="text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 19px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;font-size:medium;"><span><span></span></span><br /></span></span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-75248102296289477552010-02-05T09:23:00.011+00:002010-02-05T10:31:24.935+00:00Soil pipes, waste outlets and mangleworzels<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2vl4B6EyyI/AAAAAAAAAN0/Fw4j04GNCNE/s200/Tia+Maria+and+cream.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434690126100089634" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2vwErF71SI/AAAAAAAAAN8/NQn2j6ttd_I/s200/SEQUEL+to+cannes+09+Logo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434701338430395682" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S2vwUReyi0I/AAAAAAAAAOE/eni6Jjv7SX8/s200/noel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434701606433229634" /></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> OK, OK... so I'm making up for lost blog time, by incorporating a few images from Christmas at<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> the Jones's household, into a collage of daily life as it is now. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I am using Christmas as the landmark because this </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">was</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> the date when I should have been able to relax in a candlelit bath while contemplating world events at the same time as my Christmas shopping list, sipping champagne and placing my loofah in areas privy only to me. (That doesn't quite sound right, but you get my gist).</span></span></div></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Work on the downstairs loo begins in earnest next week, so hopefully by the end of the week guests visiting the smallest room in the house will no longer have to risk, nay choose whether to exfoliate their cheeks on the roughcast bricks or play Electrocution Russian Roulette with the hanging light switch. From this moment on, they will be able to sit and contemplate life at a leisurely pace or read one of the many publications in a well lit space; in fact, I'm hoping that the space will be so inviting that even I might use it on the odd occasion. Of course the choice then continues, whether to house my collection of film awards in there too. The Oscar, the BAFTA, the lifetime achievement award, there is only one drawback, I have none, so a visit to the fancy dress shop to pick up my golden Oscar to sit alongside my copy of the BAFTA nominations brochure from 2005 and my clapperboard, will have to suffice for the time being.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The good news is that once this is finished, then work on the bathroom will commence on the following Monday. Ten days of upheaval and mess should then find me the other side of hell with my longed for bathroom of tranquil calm, scented candles and a toy boy to help me with my loofah... sorry, I was daydreaming.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">After a mixed up year peppered with ill health and upsets, my daughter and her fiance will be taking a well earned break, leaving me in charge of my grand dog for five days. I am girding my loins for the onslaught of twice daily walks, regular meals and a routine to abide by, I sense five nights with a turn in time of 9.00pm and no social life await me; no change there then. Actually, I am hoping that the dog, no doubt exhausted from his walk, will sleep peacefully at my feet while I get on and finish the synopsis, tighten up the treatment and edit the script of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Love Shack </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">before I can finally send it to my producer friend </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0765470/">(Paul Sarony)</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> who has generously offered to read it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The top three finalists of the </span><a href="http://www.sequeltocannes.biz/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Sequel to Cannes Short Film Script Competition</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">, will be announced on 14th February, after what has been a lengthy but worthwhile process. I just hope that Level Films is interested in turning one of them into a short film, we shall see in due course.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Until next time... Hugs and Peace. from Rosie x</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-24708178352757380232010-01-22T11:19:00.008+00:002010-01-22T13:01:12.376+00:00OMG 6th November was my last posting<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S1mKcZ8fiXI/AAAAAAAAANU/ANafjmyeYM0/s1600-h/lulworth+beef.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S1mKcZ8fiXI/AAAAAAAAANU/ANafjmyeYM0/s200/lulworth+beef.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429523046377425266" /></a><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/S1mKQJLsCeI/AAAAAAAAANM/ECwFTC3qSpI/s200/Paul%27s+Pigeon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429522835719326178" /><br />I know it has been an age since I last posted when:<div><br /></div><div>* I forget my login information</div><div>* I have too many photo's stored and saved that need uploading</div><div>* I can post images of my birthday meal with Paul from back in November</div><div>* I have photo's of Susan's stay which was also back in November, showing the Christmas lights in Shaftesbury</div><div><br /></div><div>What have I been doing you ask? Or not, if you couldn't give a toss. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">*WARNING* Major Rant! The following cannot be considered slander as it is all documented and I intend to keep to the facts.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I have been stewing over the </span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">will it won't it</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> non-arrival of the bathroom furniture from Wickes, which was promised to have been delivered and installed before Christmas. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The bathroom furniture and installation was ordered and paid for in full on 13th November, 2009; I should have known by the date of the order that for some the 13th is unlucky, however, positive and confident that for me and a certain acquaintance in the Midlands the thirteenth is often a lucky date, I went ahead undeterred. Finally, the furniture arrived, not yesterday as promised for the fourth time, but today... 22nd January, 2010, around 50 + days later in total. When did I discover that it wouldn't turn up? Yesterday, when</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> I</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> phoned in the afternoon to find out where it was. When would it be delivered? Between 7am and 1 pm Today. Fifth time lucky!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Thankfully, on the advice of the very informative information sheet that comes with your congratulatory order message and delivery instructions, not to mention the rather fetching yellow balloon that you are advised to tie to your gatepost, I did not have the bathroom stripped and prepped; as the thought of going native in the toilet department for nearly three months would have been a step too far. Furthermore, when the yellow balloon had long since been burst and shrivelled into a bundle the size of a dead canary, it would have lost all significance, as the delivery men would have been able to have found me by the stench and odour wafting from the Bear Grillys (?) type earth pit at the bottom of the garden next to the overhead watering can swinging perilously above; where I am sure I could have been found holding onto the yellow string complete with Gung Ho attitude and a vague hope that a delivery would turn up this decade. Let me tell you, my balloon has since been well and truly burst. Four abortive deliveries later, due to several incomplete orders, I am now the proud owner of a full set of 13 boxes. Installation? 8th February... maybe... or maybe not.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Watch this space for the latest updates as to whether the Wickes installation team will appear to carry out the one week preparation followed by the ten day installation of said thirteen boxes. Yes, this isn't poetic license, it actually does state 13 boxes on the delivery note. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">On a more pleasant and positive note, back in November I spent a wonderful evening in Wareham at The Priory (the restaurant not the retreat) with Paul, a good friend and my guru on all things IT. We share a birth date within a day of each other albeit more than a decade apart, so in true Scorpio style, we gorged on</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> divine home made canapes, followed by a robust three course menu loosely based on French cuisine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">For the foodie fanatics it went along the lines of:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">We both chose the same starter and dessert, must be a Scorpio thing; smoked duck and pigeon breast terrine, followed by my choice of Fillet steak on a bed of rosti with a truffle and Madeira sauce and Paul's choice was a Pigeon breast served on Jerusalem artichoke mash, with a raspberry jus and spinach. Dessert consisted of a chocolate pecan tart with vanilla ice cream followed by a truly aromatic blend of black coffee and an urgent appointment with the cholesterol clinic.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Highly recommended, with astounding customer service, amazing sumptuous food in a perfect boutique style medieval cellar setting, with sparkling company that found us enthusing over the blend of food flavours, laughing at the strangest facts and figures, exploring the world of science, that boy does know some amazing little known facts and teetering in heels back to the Silver Fox... me not him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I must go lay down as the shock of the furniture finally arriving along with the planned mammoth blog (I said blog not bog), has surely zapped today's injection of energy.</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-72817837766878590722009-11-06T21:51:00.005+00:002009-11-06T22:05:16.340+00:00Breakfast at Tiffany's...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SvSbcMR7CeI/AAAAAAAAANE/pAR-zMsLUYc/s1600-h/11072008185.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SvSbcMR7CeI/AAAAAAAAANE/pAR-zMsLUYc/s200/11072008185.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401112761759107554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SvSbOfqlxMI/AAAAAAAAAM8/yLOIyK2VWJs/s1600-h/11072008189.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SvSbOfqlxMI/AAAAAAAAAM8/yLOIyK2VWJs/s200/11072008189.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401112526444676290" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Well Rosie's actually, with James... Oh the anticipation of the gossip the laughs and the endless talk about writing and life...</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Seeing at is it so close to my birthday, I could have said Breakfast with an old Banger... but that would be rude... and anyway my therapist tells me not to talk about myself like that.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">From these images, you can see that we were enjoying a true British tradition, the classical concert in the Park with the BSO in SUMMERTIME... Yes Summertime. I could hardly press the 'take' button for the thickness of clothing surrounding my upper torso and forcing my arms outward like a character from Royston Vaysey. The photo's don't do James justice, for he is Peter Pan, and my only regret about this Saturday's breakfast is that Graham his other half, won't be able to be with us, because he will be far too busy with his own performance and version of 'On the Buses' and my daughter is playing in a hockey match... Maybe next time around.<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Secretly of course, I shall be more than content not to have to share James on this occasion... Bring it on...</span></div></div></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-32662289886192333612009-10-14T08:36:00.004+01:002009-10-14T08:52:05.661+01:00The day finally dawns...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">No images today, maybe later.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The moment of departure has arrived. My dear old car traded in for a much younger model. I feel like a disloyal friend who has found someone new to play with, but the truth is I need something more reliable; this means the old friend will have to retire in the playground where old motors go to pasture. It is my romanticised notion that the car will live out it days in a field somewhere, housing nesting birds, or homing forlorn foxes from wind and rain during a night of foraging for fancies. I cannot bear to think of the reality... stripped and dumped like a hooker outside a Loveless Motel...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">10.30 and the deed will be done, adoption papers to the new owner, a fond farewell glance and a final outstretched finger to trace along her once sleek lines, like a mother relinquishing her treasured offspring... these are the emotions that will act as the catalyst for understanding, if not in a lesser way, the wrench a mother may have felt at having to give up her child, seduced by the promise of a better life. A writers' toolkit of emotion, stored in a brownie tin for resurrection another day, a faded memory, an act of final separation.</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-15396166735345029552009-10-07T23:04:00.009+01:002009-10-08T21:53:19.349+01:00Unwrapped...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Two posts in one day...</span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">After a visit to the doctors with the Duchess (my dear old Mum), I took her on a bit of a shopping spree to cheer her up. We sifted diligently through kitchenware, bedding, shoes, bags, foods and of course... books. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Lost in my own world I was browsing through the covers of 'Classic Cuisine' by </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tamasin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> Day-Lewis (one of our course leaders on the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Arvon</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> Cookery Writing week in October last year - this very same week in fact), </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Xanthe</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> Clay, Nigel Slater, James Martin and Willy the Chocolate man, when I came upon it. Two books in their seductive silver and chocolate coating, lurking on the shelves; Green and Black's </span><a href="http://www.greenandblacks.com/us/recipes/recipe-book.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">'Unwrapped</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">'. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I was inwardly squealing with delight, for I was previously the runner up in the G & B's Country Living Competition, with my recipe for Swedish Chocolate and Coffee Lamb (page 86, 2</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nd</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> edition) I cannot remember why I put the Swedish bit in the title... but here lies the complication. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Whilst at University, we had been advised to think long and hard about our writing names, persona and that all elusive 'voice'. I had thought I should want to specialise in writing for children, but after an </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Arvon</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> course in Writing for Children, held in the darkest bowels of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Invernesshire</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">, I soon realised I neither possessed the talent or the drive to continue in this genre; 75k words later and with a full edit under my belt of my hormone induced characters, I was left in a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">quandary</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">. Had I decided to write for children under my middle name, which I have used since pussy was a kitten, all would have been absolutely fine, but it wasn't deemed serious enough to carry the weight of a grown up Hollywood script; Yeah, I wish! So I decided to register with The Writers' Guild of GB, under the name of Rosie Jones. I had thought of changing my surname to one of our family names like </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Penaluna</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> (which with hindsight might not have been such a bad move) or Watkins, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Pratten</span>, Jacobs or </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Glyndwr</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> (pronounced </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Glendower</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">) but the moment has long since gone and in a way I'm pleased I stuck to my guns and kept to good old Jones.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Now for some of you who know me as Rosie, this new revelation will probably leave you disinterested if not underwhelmed, but it is a fact and a long winded way of explaining why in the G & B book they make reference to Annette Jones; in the first edition it did say from Dorset but that has been omitted in the second edition. I originally entered the competition under my middle name of Annette, confident that the fame I would enjoy as a children's author, would link me to that </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Best Chocolate Book in the World, which won the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">... Hey ho! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I am of course still waiting for the fame, but my runner up prize of a years supply of G & B chocolate has long since applied itself with extreme affection and force to my hips... so I can officially say that my recipe (this will no doubt turn into the plural as I recount the claim to fame in the nursing home in a few years time), that I appear alongside </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Nigella</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> and her Clementine Cake and Nigel Slater's White Cardamon chocolate mousse... I must retire to my bed, for it is awfully exhausting for a girl, all this fame in a lifetime and I haven't even turned a page of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Walking on Alligators, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">remember she is the author of no less than two novels</span>...</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"> (In joke for the Gathering Nuts in May tribe)...</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-56753136444216319382009-10-07T21:40:00.006+01:002009-10-08T21:54:39.648+01:00Starvation and all things inbetween...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Ss0N5y6pYxI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DgZ6TxX7ObQ/s1600-h/03092009503.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Ss0N5y6pYxI/AAAAAAAAAMo/DgZ6TxX7ObQ/s200/03092009503.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389979615603811090" /></a><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Ssz-Blc7lQI/AAAAAAAAAMg/XTBSJjW2Bnk/s200/King+Charles+Pub.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389962157242422530" /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I have fallen foul of the first rule of the art of blogging... I am not worthy, since I notice my last post was indeed on 19th August and I am unable to provide you with a better photo than this rather dark and shady image!</span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Artist Rob Hughes and Model:</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Creatives from The Arts Poole:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Writing, networking, attending parties and meeting with friends has had to take a back seat as I have been busy seeing to domestic chores, like landscaping, decorating, pandering to my aching back and running my dear old Mum backwards and forwards to the doctors, as her serious ear infection took hold and refused to repair. However, today it was official, she is on the mend.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Finally, when I managed to sit down and focus on a script report that I needed to do from the excellent script reading course I took nearly three weeks ago lead by Lucy Vee, I also logged on to my email to catch up on non-essential messages that I had left for another day. One hundred and eight four messages later, I emerged for sustenance before tackling my SPAM mail. Trouble is, I cannot afford to just delete it, as occasionally I receive emails I really need or am waiting for... invariably they are cunningly wedged somewhere between my enlarged penis or Petrushka from the USSR and her request to show me a good time ;) With the additional numerous promises of Viagra as the cure all, and an offer to slice off my weight how did they know, I found an amusing caption asking me if I wanted an enlarged penis... to which I fondly responded, only if it is attached to a healthy and handsome thirty year old male! A girl can dream...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I have started returning to the local creative writing group again, as the lack of deadlines and the pressure to clean skirting boards, yet again, fights to distract my every spare waking minute. The scuffle for attention is scandalous and without shame as the easily distracted writer emerges from piles of faffing waiting to be either sorted, cleaned or moved 6 inches to another pile, in another attempt to wait for an opportunity of a good sort... if you get my drift.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The only upside is that although I say I haven't been networking, I did get along to the September meet of 'The Arts Poole', where we celebrated, if that is indeed the correct phrase, the life of Augustus John. It was a cracking night, meeting up with other creatives and friends, the music, live painting and conversation simply flowed effortlessly like honey. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I have also managed to host my usual Saturday breakfast for the lovely James, Jackie and Antoinette and my only regret was that Graham was working. These five hour breakfasts are a joy every time and sitting in the sunshine in the dying rays of early autumn discussing writing and the latest projects and texts and films, was an added bonus. Great and overly generous friends in every sense of the word, wonderful conversation and laughter and a generous helping of talking about the art of writing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Plus my good friend and web-host prepared for me a memorable Sunday breakfast before another lesson in website techniques, a marathon of stamina and patience on his part.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Another spooky thing happened, in that I encountered an old friend... I say old friend but actually he was my Saturday boy years ago when I was a manager in retail. He was my strongest weapon... full of charm, style and an innate instinct to hone in on customers with spending power; although I have to attest he treated every person who came through the door with the same grace and charm, regardless of their budget; he is old money, not new, no hype just fine breeding. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">We spent two hours on the phone catching up on what has been nearly 18 years news, no awkwardness, it was as if we'd seen each other last week! He reminded me he came seeking a job, a law student home for the holidays and taking a gap year out, before taking his final articles then ultimately switching careers and moving into sales... why was I not surprised. Whilst I appreciate it is vulgar to talk money, which I'm not, he did happen to bank with the bank of royalty... which just goes to show how easily impressed I was... He told me his current age and for one nano second, my life flashed before me as my bones creaked, spine bent and flesh fell from muscle; I felt ancient but in a Mr. Miyagi kinda way. Now he has settled and made the move from London and after attending an Arvon course in Shropshire, he has decided to write, he too found the Arvon week wonderful, uplifting and felt the same sense of bereavement on parting. I have yet to find anyone who has not felt empowered after attending one of these courses. Currently, it sounds as though he is living the dream.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Our conversation inevitably lead to writing and I find with increasing regularity that writers are like tangled balls of knitting, a fragile tumble of self-doubt difficult sometimes to unravel, knotted in places, often easily distracted if not kept under check, but always driven and passionate about their writing projects. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">As the years roll on, I find myself drawn more and more to writers' and creatives' and although I have great mates who live in the 'normal' world, whatever that is, it is only truly another writer or creative who understands the Muse, the process, the angst, the self-doubt, the search for the Holy grail... others' will listen and hear you out as you try to explain the inner core, but only another writer can truly understand the sea of turmoil that co-exists alongside the parallel universe which inhabits the writers' mind, as it mingles and swims through the currents, the life-blood of daily existence...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Thank you for reading my blog... hopefully, the girl is back...</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-67475416725874873702009-08-19T08:33:00.007+01:002009-08-20T22:12:30.109+01:00Autumn Calls<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SourUqQsTZI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pLSJie7PFTs/s1600-h/22072009491.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SourUqQsTZI/AAAAAAAAAMY/pLSJie7PFTs/s200/22072009491.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371575351999483282" /></a><br />Seasons of mellow fruitfulness... A post of sentimental indulgence.<div><br /></div><div>The time is almost upon us, where the nights start to draw in, the trees start to shed their leaves and the earth carries the fruity aroma of fungi forming below ground.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I woke early this morning, the air carried the feel of a dull sun; the dying embers knocking on the door of a summer past its sell by date. Once firmly planted in our mind, the memories go slip-streaming through the chicanes, the carefree days touring through Europe, winding up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">zig</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">zag</span> passes; dropping down through lakes; stopping at village shops selling peaches the size of footballs on the route southwards, to end up lolling on beaches with lazy holiday reads under beach umbrellas; watching golden crisp bodies amble along the water's edge; mummified skin hanging in the folds of aging couples, found walking hand in hand along beaches teaming with new life; passing men flexing muscles, who wink at girls in the hope of starting the life cycle all over again; and all this already melting into the story vaults, even though today's 30 degree weather prediction has been heralded as potentially the hottest day of the year.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is already sunny, it will be hot, but in spite of this, the air has 'That' feel about it. 'That' feel reminded me of my teens, when the price for the long summer laziness had to be repaid by the sewing of labels on sports clothes, bedding, school uniform, blazers and hats; it seemed an endless pastime, that moved the remaining days of the summer holiday into an ethereal state of inevitability. It is 'That' feel, that now encroaches on the onset of Autumn and the hope that we will have those bright blue skies, crisp Autumn mornings, dank mists rising to refresh the balding flora and fauna, before they fade from glory.</div><div><br /></div><div>So whilst I remain in nostalgic mood, a sentimental blast from the memories of my childhood.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">The Brother and Sisterhood of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Awen</span>, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#33CC00;">From Beyond Green Hills</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">by Rosie Jones</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Passion lies just beneath a man's skin, more often than not fused to the soul through the umbilical.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Accused of fanaticism, clansman ship and an overbearing desire to convert all mankind to the love of all things Welsh. A nation divided by much more than channel or border.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">The smell of dank rain on tarmac choking the back of your throat, artificial and false against the natural beauty, made good to form lush green pastures, raised from root by a regular cleansing.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Sheep roaming on undulating hills, grazing on the Almighty's grass, pure driven by the relentless beating of the wind.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Occasional lines of washing, whipping and flapping laundry, as white as angels wings; seasoned women in their pinnies, keeping a watchful eye for a turn in the weather; moisture only a kiss away from the mountain tops, as the base of flat bottomed clouds skim grass the colour of envy.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">My grandmother used to black the grate like an act of devotion, kneeling on slate slabs <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">hewn</span> from ancient rock, sculpted to fit on earth floors and now worn smooth by the rubbing and pacing of life in front of the fire.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Lamb basting in the home range, fired to a heat that sears a welcome to all who enter the heart of the home. Proper lamb, where every mouthful contains the taste of Welsh dew, twisted with mint to freshen the breath.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Drop scones and Welsh cakes sizzling on the dying heat of the cast iron, the smell of earthy potatoes baking amongst the embers of the rapidly cooling furnace, not a drop of energy wasted.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">There is a Celtic rhythm that beats on every street corner, that can be heard amongst the language of the gossiping women and their clacking tongues, or from the music in the babbling brook, or drunk from the heavenly backdrop of the choirs singing in the Baptist churches on the Sabbath.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">In the valleys, the pits laid to rest in reverence to God to keep the Lords day pure. God fearing superstitious men, humbled by the ghostly whispers of their ancestors, that echo up the empty mine shafts singing like Sirens from an ancient shore, tempting the men back to work.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Daily, emerging like grey Gothic ghosts with underground eyes and gums the colour of beetle juice, but on the Sabbath, black haired, grey-faced men in miniature, hands in trouser pockets, hunched against the bracing wind. Scattered with occasional giants of men, Sunday sleeves at half-mast, caught short by Holy showers, their twisted Worsted shrunken and re-shaped into unfashionable style.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">A land built from the colour of legends, dragons, damsels, kings and rebellion. Militant streaks of stubborn resistance fight against oppression and challenge the power of men, bellies fuelled with the fire of injustice, as the English invaded and stripped us of </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Our</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"> industrial wealth.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">This is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Hwyl</span> that cruises through the veins of Welsh men and women alike, a gift from the Goddess of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Awen</span>, from within, or beyond any of her Green Hills.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Today will bring with it yet more editing of my script <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Repentance, but on the balcony, mourning the end of summer, enjoying whatever last generous jewels she has to offer; and tomorrow, as they say, is another day...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rxx</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-12607378618683480062009-08-01T21:43:00.009+01:002009-08-02T21:06:57.350+01:00WOW:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SnTAYopmrfI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/yaS_Sdo_liE/s1600-h/dripping+in+the+water.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SnTAYopmrfI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/yaS_Sdo_liE/s200/dripping+in+the+water.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365124585566416370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SnS_KEaRtiI/AAAAAAAAAMI/EoB1nkMg3QI/s1600-h/takes+your+breath+away.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SnS_KEaRtiI/AAAAAAAAAMI/EoB1nkMg3QI/s200/takes+your+breath+away.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365123235808654882" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Am I still breathing or did my shadow just overtake me?</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></span><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You are looking at some of the most expensive real-estate in the UK. Sandbanks in Dorset. Houses dripping in the water, perfectly visible harbour side, yet road side closed to prying eyes behind reinforced boundaries and gates of steel; buildings and owners left to bask in the retreating rays of a dying sun. This one includes a football manager's house that was recently covered on the Piers Morgan mini documentary of life on the 'Banks'</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I went with a host of work colleagues on an evening jaunt around a tug in </span><a href="http://pooletourism.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Poole Harbour</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. The smell of burgers singeing on the hot plate and hot dogs competing with onions sizzling in a tin tray wedged between a row of dead chicken meat, meant we were followed by an endless trail of hopeful gulls gliding in the slipstream, waiting to pounce at the first opportunity of any overboard offerings. It was to be the only calm in the last ten days of my life, as</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"></span></span><a href="http://sequeltocannes.biz/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">'Sequel to Cannes'</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#6600CC;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">crept up on me with the speed of Warp factor 20. The weeks have bled all to easily into another; no punctuation, no end or start to a week, just one continuous rush of hours disappearing like the speed of sand passing through an egg timer. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sequel to Cannes brought a host of wonderful people, wonderful stories and intrigues and insights by jobbing writers of what it is like to write for Eastenders, have your film commissioned or talks about how to get your work out there in front of the right people, or experiment with new ways of telling stories. As importantly, attendees were networking like crazy and offers of deals, support or funding was heavy in the air. Poole Arts Development had received three phone calls before noon on Friday and more in-depth meetings had been set for August. Good luck guys.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The feedback on the event has been tremendous, reassuring, they have filled me with a sense of a job well done and whilst I don't often indulge in self praise and there is still room for review and improvement, at the moment I need to indulge a little; to know that the time and the effort that took me away from my own writing was worthwhile to more than a handful of people. The successful case studies and endorsements will be loaded onto the website over the course of the next month and if the influx of positive messages are anything to go by, the event will be a definite on the 2010 film calendar of Dorset film events.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A well known producer reminded me he had yet to read my sit-com or costume drama I promised to send him for his Christmas read, I have been shamed; he has a two month time frame tying down finances before his latest international film project takes wings of flight in October. So no guesses what I will be doing for the next month at least, Oh well it hasn't been a very good summer anyway.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It is the giving birth that is the err, not born through the fear of rejection or adverse comment, I just want my script to be the best it can be or that I can get it to before submission, and I am unsure whether to release it for early ridicule, or fine tune it AGAIN for yet another edit. But I feel the time is almost right, I have to launch before he loses interest and walks away, so next week will see me furiously re-reading 'Repentance' for the Umpteenth time before I press 'SEND'. I'll leave it another two or three weeks before I send my Rom-Com. It requires a total re-write and I haven't had time to completely finish adapting my 'Sifting of Ashes' novella into script format, an Autumn joy I feel. Too many projects and just not enough time but I will at least see 'Repentance' birthed. Maybe I need to start being smarter, pitching more in the first instance and writing to demand or interest. Gosh, it's a big world out there and I know that sometimes you just have to spread your wings and fly and if you fall, walk around dazed for a while before risking being airborn again. Wish me well in my Quest... the next stage of my writing journey. A Teenager chancing her luck in the world of grown-ups.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Today I delivered my 'Radio Workout' to the Writers' Study in West Moors, seven hours of concentrated effort by all those who came and we finished the day with the basic characters, outline and heartbeat of their stories. They might have been amazed at what they achieved, yet I felt nothing but pride that they were able to walk away with all the main elements needed to build on the kernel of their ideas; armed with a clearer understanding of the form and what it takes to write good characters, effective dialogue and the importance of working to a story structure. Talented writers... </span></div></div></div></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-61514458262472727622009-07-19T08:40:00.008+01:002009-07-19T09:16:20.753+01:00Birthday Boy...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Tim </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">Clague's</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> Birthday bash...</span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Happy Birthday to a man who never gives up... </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">BAFTA</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> nominated </span><a href="http://projectorfilms.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tim, </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">is constantly finding new ways of spreading his writing and directing talent, making low cost films through his serial </span><a href="http://mrvista.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Mr. Vista,</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> this amusing take on the life of a man on the edge is at worst worth dipping into, but at best worth following with regularity. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tim's latest project in the form of a feature called Circumference, by far his most ambitious project to date; if you have to label it, Tim calls it a love story. He has nursed and nurtured this film since pussy was a kitten and finally everything is in place to heavily market the concept and try to bring the film into being. With a production company attached </span><a href="http://www.whitelantern.co.uk/films/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(White Lantern Film)</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and a noteworthy casting director, they are on the case. A press pack is available, so if anyone reading this would like to be involved in some way, shape or form, why not contact him and say Rosie says Hi! </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The Team are looking to raise a minimum of £110,000 seed money to give the film a chance of commercial success; this is reckoned to be the magic film formulae number for making indie movies see a return on the money, the successful 'London to Brighton' raised £80,000. If you would like to see your Company's name appear on the film credits, or more simply if getting your name on a film credit is on your list of 99 things to do before you die, then don't hesitate to get in touch with him; Tim is a very straight 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy who holds a passion for new writing and new ways of seeing and doing. I once described him to a potential </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">funder</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> as a man born with a 'can do' attitude. In fact, following an interview with Tim three years ago for a feature article in an Arts Magazine, he proved to be instrumental in invoking the Muse in me, and </span><a href="http://www.prequel.biz/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Prequel to Cannes was born.</span></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So I shall be joining in the lunchtime celebrations today with Tim and other </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">filmies</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and luvvies... Love and peace... Rosie</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-90630183117430822892009-07-18T15:29:00.004+01:002009-07-18T15:37:44.843+01:00Wahoo...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">It works... finally, having been shown how to post a link by Kristen and several times by others, and failed to grasp or apply it, I have conquered it... now I can apply a link... I shall be found linking away... <a href="http://www.timclague.com/">www.timclague.com</a>; <a href="http://www.projector.demon.co.uk/">www.projectorfilms.com</a>; </span>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-71471310145347810322009-07-18T14:41:00.012+01:002009-07-19T08:39:34.563+01:00Flat as a pancake...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SmHSCC4arKI/AAAAAAAAALw/b7wXDAJfyFI/s1600-h/14032009345.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SmHSCC4arKI/AAAAAAAAALw/b7wXDAJfyFI/s200/14032009345.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359795964122672290" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">As in the tyre on my car.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">..</span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some days just when you have the end of the road in sight, you need to turn another corner and the new road disappears into the distance. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After spending a wonderful evening yesterday with James and Graham, consuming a concert picnic tea that should have been laid out on the lawn at <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><a href="http://www.uptoncountrypark.org/">Upton Country Park</a></span> with the sounds of the BSO concert in the background, instead it was spent in their homely dining room on account of God emptying his bathwater again. Eventually this morning I awoke, or rather arose, somewhat sluggish in manner, I think it was the Gin, Lime and soda jelly what did for me, hence I took a while to get into my stride. I popped along to the farmer's market only to return and discover a flat tyre. Thankfully, it was early enough to catch Freeway Tyres, just a couple of miles away from the village. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I stopped for petrol and was reliably informed by at least five people that my tyre was flat. One very kind workman drove into the station to tell me as he had seen me traversing the roundabout, no doubt with sparks flying off the wheel. Whilst it was extremely heartwarming, not one of them offered to change the tyre and furthermore for anyone who has ever driven a car with a flat tyre, the change in the drive is unmistakable; think army tank and you're somewhere near to understanding the lack of smoothness of the ride. Some men must truly think all woman are blonde when it comes to cars!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Anyhow, suffice it to say it threw the day completely off rota and in an attempt to revist the aura of calm which I woke with this morning, I decided I needed to blog... plus mid-way I've just had a call from the builder pricing the extension, that turns out to be double the original quote and he won't guarantee the figure!!! Calmmmmmm..... still, better now than at the finishing line!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My days and nights are currently consumed with thoughts of Sequel to Cannes and I am in need of finalising the script competition rules. At least with the technical help of my great friend Paul, the website is now up and running on <a href="http://www.prequel.biz/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=49&Itemid=53"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">www.prequeltocannes.biz</span></a> ~ Sequel to Cannes also shares the same site ~ it just seems daft to have two actual websites to update, even if I do have around ten domain names. The website is a sharp learning curve and is a work in progress; I guess it will be around the end of August before I will have everything up-loaded and I will be content with the visual look of it. I have been surprised how much I have enjoyed re-visiting or learning some of the technical aspects and am now seriously considering accepting the MA place I have been offered at <a href="http://home.bournemouth.ac.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Bournemouth University</span></a> which incorporates screenwriting with learning in more detail the technical processes and tasks of shooting a movie, we only fringed upon this on the BA degree course. If I do start it will be in September 2010, I just feel I have too much on the boil this year.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I am filled with the sense of a tide of change. I cannot explain from where or why this feeling has entered my life, but I do feel that life changing events are about to take place. I sincerely hope this means some success with the writing, or maybe it is a result of the strange mood which has decended on my two day a week part-time work, but something is in the air, I feel it...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Enough now, I have websites to plan, screenwriting rules to write and a script to re-write. The countdown to<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> </span><a href="http://www.sequeltocannes.biz/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Sequel to Cannes</span></a> has started... just ten days away... Yipes...</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-30809178451387268082009-07-12T09:05:00.008+01:002009-07-18T15:45:45.416+01:00From Chick Lit to Dixie Flicks<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SlmaCqegs9I/AAAAAAAAALg/erpYKS8GjOg/s1600-h/Lit+Up+July+09.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SlmaCqegs9I/AAAAAAAAALg/erpYKS8GjOg/s200/Lit+Up+July+09.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357482602286592978" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">A Maelstrom of weather and emotions invoke and evoke the Muse...</span></span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">This scene of casual creative chaos is a record of a wonderful literary day spent at <a href="http://www.uptoncountrypark.org/">Upton Country House</a>, invoking the Muse. After a bit of a writing lull, well a drought actually, I decided earlier this year that I would treat myself to a few writing events if they came along. It is really important to water oneself now and again, as well as watering others in the form of the creative workshops I deliver, the next one I shall be delivering, is 'writing for radio' in August.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">On the day that God chose to empty his bathwater, I trundled along to this one, organised by the Poole Arts Development Unit, called 'Lit Up' and drew inspiration and support from published writers, as well as from the literary agent <a href="http://www.blakefriedmann.co.uk/">Carole Blake</a>; a formidable woman, a well respected heavyweight from within the publishing world's circle of trust. There is only one way to describe her and I hope she will take this as a business compliment, she comes across as a 'no shit' kind of person. Someone who you would definitely want batting on your team rather than the oppositions. She was obviously seizing the opportunity to re-promote her paperback book 'From Pitch to Publication' and at the discounted price of £12.50 she was happy to sign her name, sadly for those in attendance only between the book's pages and not on a contract. It got me thinking just how little the publishing world can have changed, her book was published over ten years ago so the same principles, i.e. contracts, approaches to agents/publishers, format, manuscripts submissions <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">et</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">al</span>, remains the same. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Carole gave a very charismatic speech, endearing in places, I imagine not a description one would <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">automatically</span> associate with her or mix in the same sentence, to arrive at the same old chestnut, which is in spite of all the 'how to' tips, what actually grabs any agent or publisher is a gripping story, well told with an original, preferably unique, voice. The main learning points I came away with`~? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Perseverance</span>, a strong belief in your own work, and the importance of sending it out to the correct publishing house or literary agent, these are the stuff that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bringeth</span> the writer in with a chance, basic ideologies we aspiring authors have had recounted to us endless times but for unpublished authors worthy of mentioning again. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Then of course, there is the timing factor to consider. As in Life, timing is everything. Carole recounted a manuscript which had 'done the circuit' and been rejected by every major publisher and almost sent to the abattoir, but a steadfast belief in the manuscript by both author and agent meant that after a decent period of mourning it was resubmitted to a publishing house with a new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">commissioning</span> editor in place, hot to make a name for him/herself ~ identity was hidden to protect the guilty. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Present it too soon and it is classed as 'Before its time' or 'doesn't fit into any genre or category, too late and it falls into the pile where 'manuscripts go to die', recycled paper waste or contenders for the Turner prize ~ award winning stuff like 'slush pile door stops' a mountain of manuscripts super glued to form the shape of a paper Christmas tree ranging from 4 foot to 100 feet, followed by an epic burning on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Hampstead</span> Heath, straight out of a scene from 'Wicker man'. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Not a lot for Writers' to consider then when nurturing their babies before they send them off to potential slaughter or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Resurrection</span>. Carole was last seen clicking her heels across a very damp walled garden, clutching her raincoat and cash box under her arm whilst dragging her unsold books behind her, leaving <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">chunnels</span> of furrowed earth in her wake. Food for thought... write about what you know?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The hottest author on the block at the moment, Lucy Clarke spoke about her foray into the publishing world with her book called 'Surf Wax and Vodka Jelly'. Don't you just hate young, hip gorgeous looking women with surf shacks full personality? I suspect her 27 years of experience living on this planet and the obvious talent she has for re-telling a story, played more than a helping hand <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">contributing</span> towards her success, but nonetheless an author with personality clearly helps when embarking on book signings. A clear distinct voice, maximised to appeal to a specific type of audience (20 - 40 age group), never have I felt so old as to be not included in this hip age group. Lady in Lavender I am not!!!!! I have ordered said book online in an act of aging purple rebellion.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I did receive some fabulous constructive feedback in a 1-2-1 discussion about my script and the first three chapters of my novel, so encouraged and renewed, I shall again take up the pen ... that is of course after I have resolved the issue of the Prequel to Cannes/Sequel to Cannes website which urgently demands my attention...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Top tip for unpublished authors, do your research and once you have found your voice, exploit it and shout it from the top of the highest slush pile; just remember to jump clutching the manuscript before flaming match meets tinder dry paper...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Rosie xx</span></div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-90716241959090024532009-07-04T20:56:00.009+01:002009-07-18T16:01:18.375+01:00Spoiled Rotten...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Sk-0lrv0k0I/AAAAAAAAALY/ne-MikbLSlw/s1600-h/11072008184.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Sk-0lrv0k0I/AAAAAAAAALY/ne-MikbLSlw/s200/11072008184.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354697041458271042" /></a><br />Trick or Treats... <div><br /></div><div>It isn't every day that a girl of advancing years can knock on the door of a young talented writer and award winning playwright and be treated to a breakfast of smoked salmon, jams, breads and croissants, whilst his partner is hard at work. "Come into my Bedouin tent" or similar, were the words that greeted me. At the bottom of the garden stood an octagonal tent fit for a sheik. Equipped with the 3 S's, self sufficiency and summer, every need, well almost, has been taken into account and catered for, including the lighting; I wouldn't expect anything less as Graham is a whiz with all matter of things electrical and what he cannot do with his conduit isn't worth bothering with. The non-organic apple I brought for my god dog, was tossed in the air like a ball and it is fair to say that anything non-organic is of little interest... the result? a glossy coat that is silky and sleek - let this be a lesson to us all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our Saturday breakfasts are treasured, when Graham can join us he does and it is a delight, but relaxing in the company of a writing soul mate is a luxury of indulgent proportions. Friendships are, or should be, about equality, trust and honesty and whilst we could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occasionally</span> be accused of a love-in, it is usually short lived as we both understand the need to be critical about behaviours in life as well as about our writing, so truthful feedback wins every time, born out of respect for each other as a wordsmith and friend. Talking through ideas for stories, novels or plays are like a mental workout, the energy James generates is infectious and whenever I reflect on what he has done or is about to do, I feel ashamed that I have more freelance time yet generate <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">considerably</span> less, both in quality and volume.</div><div><br /></div><div>Invariably, we exchange real life episodes of a day in the life of the last month, a tribute to that wonderful film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0245407/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">'Crush'</span></a> and the gag sad F**k of the week. When forced to, I recall or retell some incident from my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">autobiography</span> 'Rosie moments', yet to be written of course, but will include such events as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">'Robins Breast Drip Trays', 'Frequent Lactose Intolerance', 'My daughter's schools orchestral weekend and I got to have the drug addict to stay, yes, the very weekend the school guinea pig chose to commit Harri Kari whilst in our care', 'The scenic journey through Dorset with an unfolding commentary on the history of Rook Pie, ably given by our chauffeur which made us late for a function' ... and the like...</span> </div><div><br /></div><div>I left with dates in my diary: an invite to watch <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.theyoungvictoria.co.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">'</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.theyoungvictoria.co.uk/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">The Young Victoria'</span></a></span></span> in the Bedoin tent, The <a href="http://www.bsolive.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">BSO proms in the park</span></a> our annual ritual together with champagne and canapes lording it up, and Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. Good friends, lots of laughs, these will be the memories I shall keep long into the future when I am rocking in my chair in the nursing home... God and a lot of luck willing...</div><div>Go hug a friend...</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-12191898177932964852009-06-18T07:46:00.003+01:002009-06-19T00:09:07.217+01:00Another day of self harming...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Self sufficiency...</span></span></span></div>I know it is not very PC these days to make a mockery of a particular disadvantaged group, so I will apologise now as no malice is intended, but you'll get the picture by the end of the blog post I promise... and before I am targeted by the Blogspot police, otherwise known as the marketing guys, with spam mail about self harm support groups wedged somewhere between my perfect matchmaker or are you happy with the size of your Todger, I may well have to change the title of this blog post.<div><br /></div><div>This blog post I guess, is about several things, having a go, hunting and gathering, aspiration on a budget, yes that is aspiration not inspiration, although sometimes the inspiration is Bon Marche too.. Now before you think I am going to have a moan about the credit crunch, or complain I can't afford my Jimmy Choo's in these hard times, I think you ought to understand I have inherited many of my father's traits, one of which is, if you can build it yourself why pay to have someone build it for you. The trouble is both of us were and are somewhat limited in the self build department, which of course can leave you open to merciless bouts of ridicule and considerable expense putting everything right you did wrong in the first place, if that makes sense.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is not that either of us was (my dear old Dad finally got to do his last bit of DIY pre 1990 when the only way he could get out of it was to die - bit extreme I know and I miss him every day that goes by and I know it is a bit of black humour, but he would have absolutely approved at this take on it all), and to get back to my original point, neither of us could ever be accused of being mean. But it is clearly the hunter gatherer that emerges from our Celtic roots and takes over at the mere mention of DIY and power tools, but as I say, a little knowledge and a total lack of talent in the construction department is a dangerous thing. Neither of us were daft enough to knock walls down, unless of course it wasn't attached to anything, after all we knew/know our limits on account of not being THAT stupid, but the lure of being able to say 'I did that' and the desire to watch everyone gasp in amazement, has always proved too strong.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me paint the picture and enlighten you on one such escapade embarked upon by my dear old Dad... Back in the 50's when my father had arrived at middle management, my mother decided that to go with our newly acquired family status and to match our semi detached double plot in (here it goes downhill) Essex - commuter belt of Leigh-on-Sea and handy for London, she would like a garden seat. 'No problem' says my Dad who hadn't done woodwork since school; I cannot call it carpentry, I'll leave that association to Jesus. During one weekend, he set about turning our three folding wooden chairs, you know the type you shut your fingers in every time you use them, constructed with wooden planks that mark your BTM if you sit on them long enough, yep, those will be the ones.. out came hammer, hand drill and nails - yes nails, and a monkey wrench, why we'll never know, furthermore when he finally died he took the secret with him, so like the Holy Grail it will forever remain an unsolved mystery. My mother had spent the entire weekend hovering nervously and covering my ears every time his hammer found flesh. She had every right to feel nervous, as the last time he had been left in charge of a hammer, she had to call a plumber.</div><div><br /></div><div>I ought to explain that actually my mother was and still is the construction worker and builder in the family, yet just now and again the need to try and steal the title from her draws us like a moth to a flame. She has ripped out fireplaces, knocked down walls, which continued to remain attached to something, built a double garage, put in RSJ's mixed cement, decorated, scrubbed up to princess standards in floaty frocks, permed hair and lipstick, and still got a casserole in the oven before dusk. Lilian always said it kept her off the drink and off the streets on the long lonely nights when my father was busy building his career, so they both built stuff, just different types of stuff. But not wanting to totally emasculate him, she left him the small tasks around the house which wouldn't result in death or electrocution or both. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually he presented the bench to us and apart from the fact that you couldn't sit on it for fear of crucifixion, impalement or body piercing in the most unlikeliest of places, it did what it said on the can. The only other drawback was that you couldn't take a magnet within 100 yards without fear of finding a bench attached to it. So... working around to my original thread of MY DIY, you can see which school of 'Method' building I went to. Avante Garde and a bit kitch not to mention Heath Robinson.</div><div><br /></div><div>When my daughter was around 7/8 years old after a miserable period in our lives, I weakened in a moment of marshmallow and allowed her to buy a rabbit. A tiny Watership Down kind of bunny rabbit with a toffee patch on the back of his neck. He was cute and cuddly and absolutely divine and we took him away from the safety and security of a well equipped garden, clearly set up for breeding, to... nothing. No straw, no food, no hay and more importantly no hutch. I could hear my father's words ringing in my ears... 'No problem', so I set about reclaiming copious amounts of scattered rotting wood, chopping up and sawing an old red display unit from Laura Ashley's window, a whole bag of 6 inch nails and a hammer. So whilst Jo nursed the traumatised rabbit who can surely have only just been weaned, I set about building Colditz to withstand attack by foxes, keep out the elements, and allow the rabbit to have a room with a view through the tiny chicken wire window. No drawings, no plans, lots of imagination and a gung ho attitude meant I ended up with... my father's bench! Well not literally, but if I had put the poor little mite in it, he could easily have been converted into a bunny kebab. It is so humiliating when one's child is rolling around the garden trying to conceal laughter whilst Mummy is trying to demonstrate the ten easy steps in DIY self sufficiency. Clearly B & Q will not be a new career choice in my New Age of Silver Years (I cannot bring myself to say New Era)!</div><div><br /></div><div>At the party last week, I did make a bit of a gaff. I had been self harming on and off for much of the week, taking down pelmets, pulling out staples and nails, so the back of my hands were full of evidential traits of my activities. I noticed one of the doctors staring intently at them I assumed he wasn't looking for a wedding ring, so in an attempt to break the ice, I said 'I self harm...' he looked aghast, I had his attention, so I hit him with the punch line 'Well B & Q call it DIY' at which point the bat flew in, the lights were cut and when they came up again he had moved away! </div><div><br /></div><div>And the moral of this story? Always work to a plan... and drawings, however rough. Whether you are building a rabbit hutch, a bench or laying down the foundations for your story... always work to a plan... it saves a lot of unnecessary time and expense later...</div><div>Love and Peace... xxx R</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-28499467009447360562009-06-15T20:57:00.005+01:002009-06-15T22:49:23.031+01:00It would be easy to run out of steam...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Sjas42-8BLI/AAAAAAAAALQ/mH9smwl8VgQ/s1600-h/A+damn+good+read.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Sjas42-8BLI/AAAAAAAAALQ/mH9smwl8VgQ/s200/A+damn+good+read.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347651700381189298" /></a><br /><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SjasRvntKEI/AAAAAAAAALA/c0zleHvdD-g/s200/The+dining+room.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347651028389800002" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SjasdFm7DCI/AAAAAAAAALI/NfqXdkCmWko/s1600-h/Sequel+to+Cannes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/SjasdFm7DCI/AAAAAAAAALI/NfqXdkCmWko/s200/Sequel+to+Cannes.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347651223270657058" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Hold the faith...</span></span><div><br /></div><div>Why is it that I seem to be permanently chasing deadlines? I am trying to manage several important projects in the one remaining week before a final, final cut off date; and anyway whatever happened to that floaty notion that I would sit in my summerhouse or in a villa in the south of France or a beachside shack on some remote Caribbean Island and do nothing but write THE novel or screenplay that would define my generation? Tch.. Fat chance, currently I am not even sure if I have any talent for writing, but I guess I will die trying to discover if I do.</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday night found me at a friend's 40th birthday party, having a bit of a boogie, in my killer heels and, by way of a change, a skirt; before you ask... yes I was wearing a top. Every inch of space was filled with learned people, mainly from the medical profession, skilled in wielding the knife; and is it just me or are consultants getting younger? I engaged in a truly interesting conversation about the removal of limbs and all the decisions that surround it; thankfully not something I think about every day, but nonetheless very thought provoking. Simply put, the conversation went something along the lines of 'if it is a limb or life, life wins every time'... put like this it sounds straightforward. The surgeon in question cut his teeth, or rather his scalpel, on five years in the army some of it in field surgery.</div><div><br /></div><div>I watched several of them slicing their meat; it soon became easy to spot the surgeons from the GP's; <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Surgeons:</span> precision cuts, fat trimmed to within a whisper of flesh... </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">GP's</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">: rough cuts with a bit of everything else on the fork</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">;</span> note to self for use at a later date - believable visual characterisation... </div><div><br /></div><div>However, the entertainment of the evening (well for us anyway not for the poor creature concerned) was in the form of a bat who flew in through some opening somewhere, who flapped and swooped around the massive open plan kitchen looking for a way out. The shrieks were deafening and I prayed to god that bats are deaf, if terror did not sear through it at its initial plight, then the throwing of coats, shawls and flailing limbs would surely have been enough to permanently traumatise it. Eventually it was caught by a GP armed with a fishing net, upon which it instantly surrendered and played dead. Roars of hero worship erupted to which he responded 'It is all in the wrist action'. Lesson in life? Not sure...</div><div><br /></div><div>The Stackmeister, like many before him, has observed that the harder you work at something the luckier you become. Yet at the moment I have to overcome my feeling of guilt at a series of half completed interior DIY projects that I don't seem to have time to shake a paintbrush at. I say that, but yesterday afternoon did find me chilling out on a layout bed in the garden for three hours with a glassful or two of bubbles. Does this mean I am not serious about what I need to achieve, or was I just yeilding to the lure of the great outdoors and a bottle? If I am a true, serious writer would I have used the time to better effect; to cram more words on paper? So many questions, so much angst...<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Holding the faith I guess, means just never giving up and whilst I feel as though I am currently gnawing my way through an elephant with someone Else's teeth, my only saving grace is I hold the knowledge that by the end of the week, all being well, I will have achieved all I set out to do. The dining room will be painted throughout, the china will be finally loaded into units instead of littering the hall in boxes, the guest bedroom will have the pelmet sewn and hung and the radiator covers will be finally placed to conceal the ugliness of their metal casings AND all the marketing material for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">Sequel to Cannes 2009 the Independent Film Industry Networking Party, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">will be done and dusted as the tickets finally go on sale. It has been easier this year as I have recruited help on several fronts; in the composition of the marketing material and the Press releases, my trusty volunteers are in place for the night of the event and I am confident the venue will prove to be a fresh and perfect marine setting to generate plenty of effective networking; all the agencies advertised have now confirmed their attendance. I am still hoping to persuade the BBC Writers' Room, The Directors' Guild, Skillset and Sunseekers to come along, but for now at least I know I have some excellent support in place. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>But boy will I be delighted when I finish eating the elephant and life can return to a proper writing routine... </div><div><br /></div><div>Be good to each other and carry on gnawing away at the elephants... </div><div>love and hugs</div><div>Rosie xxxxx</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5457340009381334668.post-30646233098443728062009-06-10T08:53:00.002+01:002009-06-10T09:16:26.760+01:00Life in the fast lane...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Si9m-hAaAgI/AAAAAAAAAK4/OXr_yq7NdLA/s1600-h/The+perfect+view.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N7tDIHle7qE/Si9m-hAaAgI/AAAAAAAAAK4/OXr_yq7NdLA/s200/The+perfect+view.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345604506910065154" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">And another day dawns...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span>Just a quick update this morning. Firstly, I had a delightful dream which involved Adam - non-sexual damn it and probably too much information for my readers, but for a lady in Lavender you can imagine it will lighten my step as I set forth into the onslaught of what the day brings. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">A dreamy, dream is a bit like a good breakfast, it sets you up for the day ahead.</span></span></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div>I have to go to the accountants to sign my accounts and try and understand them, poor man attempting to make it all clear for me. I know I complain when I write out his cheque, it is because you cannot see anything for the money you spend; it is not tangible, I can't wear it or sell it on if I no longer use it... It's .... fluff... but essential. So between him and the tax man at least it keeps me legal!</div><div><br /></div><div>Then on to more pleasurable things. A late lunch or early afternoon tea with Monique from 1stwrites, my new PR person for all the Sequel to Cannes press releases, my third eye for editing and re-writing and all time good friend. Monique and her partner Nick have been supporters of my film networking event since day one and I could not do without either of them, like Paul Lott and Ted Elms they have stuck with me all the way through this mad journey. Last year Ellie Douglas also joined in the support, so the band of brothers and sisters continues to grow annually; it means I am able to rely more and more on capable, committed individuals who know how to make the event run smoothly, who can trouble shoot and take some of the weight from my shoulders.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then both Monique and I will be at the premier screening of a community film project by Level Films from the Fourish, Beachcoming project. There is something about seeing a piece of work from recruitment through to finished product; I was the supporting consultant for the Arts Development Unit on the process of recruitment to find the right type of production company to head this project - they are a funky young team who make damn good film. Check out Level Film in Somerset.</div><div><br /></div><div>There will be another evening of looking at flyers and promo material as the tickets for Sequel to Cannes go on sale next Wednesday, hopefully... and the VIP invites need to go out next week at the latest.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Script judging panel so far is... this year's patron Jeremy Paul, Producer Paul Sarony Of Mrs. Brown fame (plus of course many, many others), Writer Danny Stack, Director and Producer James Dean and I have yet to ask two others, so I won't disclose who they are yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Better dash the shower calls, although why I am bothering I don't know as the sky tells me I'm in for a drenching anyway...</div><div>Love and hugs</div><div>Rosie xx</div>Rosie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06411304937766154925noreply@blogger.com0