Showing posts with label Lucy Maud Montgomery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucy Maud Montgomery. Show all posts

Friday, 29 June 2018

Dear Maud #WriteBravely #Day6

Dear Maud,

I know your full name is Lucy Maud Montgomery, but I'm of the understanding that you preferred to be called just Maud. Without an E. Which is interesting, given that your iconic and beloved character Anne Shirley always insisted upon Anne WITH an E.

I know you received millions of these gushing fan letters in your time, and even after your time. So what could I say that hasn't already been said? Most likely nothing. But I'll say it anyway.

Just like many of your other readers, I feel like we could have been kindred spirits. I love the way you wove warmth and humour into all of your stories. The way you described the setting of Prince Edward Island in such a poetic and evocative way.

It almost felt like I was there strolling through Lover's Lane, breathing in the majestic splendour of the White Way Of Delight.

I could taste the currant wine and plum pudding. I longed for a dress with puffed sleeves, even though puffed sleeves are quite ridiculous these days.

You made me fall in love with Gilbert Blythe. As well as girl crush on Anne Shirley. That's not weird at all, right?

Even many decades after I first read your books, I can still pick them up again and be enchanted. They're like familiar old friends. There is so much comfort and joy amongst their pages.

And Maud, I must confess, I love to dabble a little with writing. Tapping and scribbling away. For no other reason than it just makes me feel better. Just like your other heroine Emily Byrrd Starr, I need to 'write it out'.

As you wrote in Emily Of New Moon,
"Emily, in the delightful throes of literary composition, was lost to all worldly things." (p83).


But much to my chagrin, I lack your fire. Your fierce determination. Your drive and ambition. I read that you were so driven to write that you awoke early, even during frosty Canadian winters, and wrote. Myself, and many others are forever grateful that you did.

It haunted me to discover that ultimately you may have, in fact, taken your own life.

It pains me to think of someone who gave so many people so much joy, being in such distress and turmoil herself. I'm also reminded of one of my other hero's: the late great Karen Carpenter. And then I wonder why I seem to be drawn to such figures. Talented, humorous, kind but ultimately troubled.

I had always hoped that one day I may be able to visit Prince Edward Island and pay my respects. This possibility is becoming more remote, but I guess you never know.

In the meantime, I can revisit your wonderful words and characters.

Thank you, Maud, from a heartfelt fan and kindred. Thank you for the beautiful gift of your writing and imagination. 

I will remain yours respectfully,


Written for Festival Of Words 2018 Day 6, using the prompt:

Day 6 – 29 Jun – Write a letter to a person who supported your writing career, whether that be a friend, a family member, a teacher (even one that supported you at a very young age before you knew that it would blossom into a writing career), an author you’ve never met but have been inspired…

Linking up with Write Tribe for Festival Of Words.

Friday, 9 June 2017


Greetings and salutations! Here we are again on another fabulous Friday! Which means it's time for Friday Reflections. 

I have to chosen to write a post for the prompt: write a post about making mistakes.This may be a mistake...  You decide. 

I make lots of little scatter brained mistakes on a daily basis. In fact, I came to the conclusion that I am some sort of hapless doddering Mrs Bean character long ago. Read it about here. It's funny to read about... Well, if I didn't laugh I'd cry...

Now it's time for a random list for no particular reason: 


  • Putting the wrong clothes away in the wrong drawers.
  • Leaving the shopping list at home.
  • Forgetting to even write a list.
  • Writing a list, then leaving it at home.
  • Taking the list, but still forgetting to buy essential items written on it. 
  • Getting the dodgy trolley at the supermarket.
  • Choosing the slowest check out. 
  • Forgetting to replace the loo roll (I gather this is generally more of a dude thing, but I'm special...)
  • Buying/borrowing more books before I've read the ones I've got... No wait. This is NEVER a mistake! 
  • Forgetting the pizza that was in the oven... (on the plus side that means I burned a bazillion calories in just half an hour!  BOOM TISH) 
  • Picking up the wrong kind of schnitzels at the supermarket (the ones with corn instead of plain), an act of vile, callous and unforgivable EVIL as far as Mr 8 is concerned. 
  • Forgetting where I put my glasses/keys/phone five minutes ago....

You get the picture. This list could go on and on and ON. 

And that list hasn't even covered other past mistakes, such as my infamous mullet-perm of 1987, and the time I thought wearing shirts that looked like table cloths was attractive.  See below. What was I thinking? 


However, the biggest mistake I am currently making is this:

Not getting enough exercise. Followed closely by eating too much. OOPS. 

This in turn causes me to a) gain weight, and b) become more prone to anxiety.

This is also after choosing the word MOVE as my  one word for this year. Oh dear. 

So, yesterday I was at the shops and I had a big, wobbly, stupid, batshit crazy panic attack. Not fun. I haven't had one for ages, so it's very disconcerting when that bastard pops up. Well, it can go f#*k itself. I am making myself move again. I've always found exercise is one of the best strategies to combat it. 

As 'Anne' says, tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.

Or you know, fresh with no CAKES in it.  Since my mistakes often seem to feature baked goods. Ahem.  

Now I am signing off, because I really and truly need to get up and MOVE. 

What mistakes do you make? Do you learn from them?

Saturday, 28 April 2012

Books Are My Bestie

I have a book fetish.  Books have been my major companion and 'bestie' since childhood. As soon as I could read, I always had a book attached to me and would often come wandering out to the breakfast table, book in hand.

The amount of times I was busted reading a book under the desk at school are too numerous to mention. It all started with Enid Blyton, of course.  Admittedly all the constant references to characters named 'Fanny' were a bit too much for me at times, but nevertheless the stories were so entertaining that I couldn't put them down. It never dawned on me to question  how four kids and a dog could outwit hardened criminals, always remaining unscathed throughout, in all those gripping Famous Five books I read avidly.  I was rather gullible and dreamy. 

It has since dawned on me that a love of Enid Blyton books might not have started me off on the best path to having a firm grip on reality.  A situation that was made worse by a love of such unrealistic TV shows as I Dream Of Jeannie and Bewitched.  I mean, pleeease,  a beautiful witch, with magical powers that mean she can go anywhere and do anything she desires, yet all she wants to do is completely forsake those powers just to be a normal housewife.  RIIIIGHT.  I don't think so.

Anyway, back to books.  At age 10 I read 'Anne Of Green Gables' and then 'Anne' books took over from Enid as my favourites.  My friend Poss will want me to mention the 'Jill' books. So I will. They were 'horsey' type books.  And I say, they were frightfully good. Smashing and all that.  Just like Enid Blyton.  I did like the odd 'horsey' book, which is curious, because I've never particularly liked horses.

I my teens I went through a stage of reading the dreaded Mills and Boon type romances.  This horrified one year 9 English teacher, who called my mother up to the school to inform her that reading such books caused young girls to believe that if they had sex and had an orgasm, they were in love!

Books are the only thing I still hoard as an adult. With other ladies it's usually a handbag or shoe fetish, with me it's a book fetish. Everyone has their thing.  This is fortunate for my husband in that I'm happy with a two dollar book from an op shop, rather than a two hundred dollar handbag.  Not so fortunate however, in that we often need a spare suitcase to bring home all the books I buy on our holidays.

The fact that I will never have time to read all of these books even if I live to be 137 years old is completely irrelevant.  I still have to have them.   Now I still read lighter stuff. I have a short attention span and three kids, so what I am going to read, War and Peace?

 I do sometimes attempt classic authors like Austen, Bronte or Dickens, all of whom I love, but they require more concentration. So I mostly stick with frothy, girly 'chick lit' as they call it, or war time sagas, because I find it amusing how they always have to time for a brew in between all the dramas and bombs exploding, being a cuppa tea girl myself.

Interestingly, I've never read any Harry Potter books.  And I never will. As I've mentioned before, after having three sons, I'm over it.  I may also be the only person in the entire world who has never read the The Da Vinci Code.  I fear it would be too confusing for my fragile brain.  I can't even figure out how to put my sons Lego sets and other various toys together, so my brain might explode trying to decipher such a book.  I won't be reading the Twilight series or The Hunger Games either.  Ditto Fifty Shades Of Grey.

Instead, I'll just read 'Anne' again for the millionth time. Okay, trillionth....

"Mrs Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed by alders and ladies eardrops and traversed by a brook....."

Note: That opening line from Anne Of Green Gables was quoted straight off the top of my head.  Truly.  Yep, I really am that tragic.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

                                                         Which books do you love?
                                      What are you reading at the moment?