One minute, my family and I were enjoying the warmth and sunshine in Disney’s Hollywood Studios, the next I was positioned on a gold star, singing ‘One Way or Another’, to the first-line producer, a lovely lady, named Katrina. She asked me to sing ‘Black Velvet’, and then I chose a song from their list, ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’, and gave that a go. I was complimented on my rock voice and was put through to the next round.

I’m not new to singing, but I have rested my voice for nearly two years, due to ill-health, and like every muscle in the body, if you don’t use it, you lose it, and my vocal chords weren’t at their best. I was thrilled I still had enough there to impress Katrina.

Whilst waiting to audition to the second producer, I practised my two songs, sipped water in the green room, which was actually red, and renewed my Italian vowels. ‘Smile when you’re singing the eeee sound,’ my teacher would say.

Gently ushered into a smaller room, I took my place on another gold star, held the mic in my hand, and gave it my best shot. Well, Pat Benetar’s best shot, to be precise. It hit the spot, I was congratulated and told I was through to the live show later that day.

Now, for someone who was originally heading for the Star Tours attraction, I exited the Idol building with a certificate, my contestant number, and a time to return for a ‘fluff and puff’, which included hair, make-up and vocal coaching.

Sometime after five pm, standing in the clothes I’d put on first thing, hair shuzzed and cosmetic improvements made, I was on stage, in front of a live audience, doing one of my favourite things. Performing.

I saw my family, watching, willing me on, smiling, as they have done on so many occasions when I’ve been in competition, or gigging. I have always sung to my children – nursery rhymes, pop songs, musicals – from when they were first-born, and I was told it was an excellent way for them learn word patterns and rhythm. They are both musical. My son could sing before he could read, and was up on stage at the age of three, with me, singing Abba’s ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’, and my daughter plays piano, and dances.

I love that they love music.

Well, if I had won and gone on to that evening’s final, I would have competed for the chance to enter the full-on, proper American Idol, as the prize for the over all winner was a dream ticket to participate in the TV show. As it turned out, I was to appear on stage just the once that day, but it was all good; my son was training to become a Padawan at 8pm, and I didn’t want to miss seeing him defeat Darth Vader.

Padawan Training Ground

Take care.

Laura x

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We were watching it on the Disney Channel, in Orlando. We were having a holiday of a lifetime – my first ever with my children, my last trip abroad being my honeymoon to Italy in 1996.

Since I was a child, I dreamed of visiting DisneyWorld. I still have a 1973 Disney annual – actually, my daughter is now it’s owner, but I love that book.

I remember seeing images of Epcot on Blue Peter, hearing about friends who had dined with Mickey Mouse, and falling in love with the magic and beauty of the fairy castle that opened and completed every Disney film. I’ve had such a great time watching all the old movies with my children over the years. ‘Pete Pan, Pete Pan!’ my daughter would squeal. Fifteen times in one week we watched Peter, Wendy and the Lost Boys defeat Cap’n Hook. Even my son tells me if I don’t believe in fairies, one will die. Tink’s real in this house.

The funny thing is that at the 2012 RNA Conference, after Julie’s workshop, I collected a complimentary fortune cookie. I ate the biscuit, then unfolded the thin, white strip of paper, to reveal my fate. This is what it read: ‘All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.’ Walt Disney. Coincidence that the man himself made a virtual appearance after I’d taken a workshop on story structure, with positive examples from Disney Pixar?

I’ve kept that slip of paper. It sits with my Romaniac business cards.

My dream to take my family to DisneyWorld came true.

Thank you, Julie, for sharing your knowledge, and thank you, Walt Disney, for showing me the strength of belief and commitment.

Now to continue pursuing my writing dream…

Take care.

Laura x

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My day had been spent with a notebook and biro, first at my local writing group, Off The Cuff, and then later, during a quiet half an hour sitting in the car. I had things I wanted to get down on paper, thoughts, ideas, a moment in time, for a 500 word story I’d been formulating the night before. The most immediate way for me to do this was to write it down.

This was my reply to the question from Harper Impulse:

“I mix and match, depending on my mood. Today has been a notebook  and pen day – it’s a more intimate means of writing. It reminds me of something a musician, possibly Sir Paul McCartney, said regarding the difference between creating a song with a guitar and producing one using a piano. A guitar is hugged to the body, creating an intimate song, whereas he feels he is pushing away the piano, producing a distant feel to the music.”

Harper Impulse asked if I found using a computer to write, a more distant exercise. Giving it more thought, I replied I did.

Typing, at my slow speed, and with my errant fingers, is a stilted affair, and can have the effect of clipping my thought process. With the immediacy of writing, regardless of the illegibility, I can get my thoughts down as they appear, ready for later editing. That’s not to say I’m incapable of this when at the PC, but my words are more considered then.

Subject matter makes a difference too. I’m more likely to hand write an intense, emotional scene, allowing the thoughts and the pen to flow. The words are raw and straight from the heart of the character. In some respects, it’s similar to writing a diary, which for most, is a private and personal activity, not often emblazoned across the household PC monitor.

Having said all that, I edit at the PC. Perhaps that’s because I need perspective, and the distance a keyboard provides allows for that.

Pen or keyboard? Both methods complement my way of working.

What an interesting question posed by Harper Impulse. Thank you.

So, what are you using to write with this minute?

Laura x

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I have written stories as short as 25 words, and entered competitions with tales of 500 words. I’ve tried a 6 word story, but am not yet skilled enough to produce anything of value in this range.

As an over-writer who loves to hack and slash scripts down, flash fiction satisfies my desire for concision. It focuses the mind, and helps develop the ability to identify the relevant points of the story.

The following is a 10 minute, 100 word story, written at Off The Cuff. It’s not been tweaked – this is how it was presented.

From Hero to Zero 

Handsome and rich. I had everything; Hollywood ranch, private jet, two Oscars. I had glacial white, virginal girls pleading to be walked on the red carpet.

My days were full of action. My nights too.

My face appeared on billboards, my palm prints on the Walk of Fame. My life was documented in magazines, news clippings, movies. “The greatest action hero of all time”, the tag line to my name.

And then I met her.

She taught me there’s no value to property, fame, or notches on a bedpost.

I’d rather possess nothing, and have her love.

Zero.

Not hero.

It’s not perfect, it possibly breaks all sorts of rules, and it’s not award-winning stuff, but that’s not why I wrote it.

I wrote it because I love to write.

Take care.

Laura x

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Today is the first anniversary of the loss of my mother.

Not much has changed, and yet, everything has.

I’m still vulnerable to attacks of naivety, anxiety, and concerns I might have said or done the wrong thing, but I’m the end of the line. There is no more ‘I’ll hear what Mum has to say about it’. That doesn’t stop me wondering. The advice and guidance she offered throughout our life together is drawn upon every day. ‘This time will pass’, features often.

As a family, we have moved forward, and we’ve taken my mum with us.

As Lilo and Stitch say, ‘Ohana’.

Laura x

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We quite literally write off the cuff. We enter the library with no clue as to what the task will be and settle down to twenty minutes of writing. This may be inspiration taken from a line in a book, or ideas gathered from the roll of a set of story dice, or one person’s suggestion, prepared especially for the session.

Our meetings are split into two, refuelling with coffee at the break. The second half is shorter than the first and can consist of flash fiction, or poetry, amongst other styles, and this is when I experiment with different forms of expression. We’ve even tried writing a twenty-six line story, each sentence, or each word beginning with the next letter of the alphabet, but an observation was made today that, whilst this certainly stretches the creative muscle, most stories end with someone having an x-ray or playing a xylophone in yonder zoo.

Andrew Began Counting Daffodils. Each Flower Grew Higher…Whilst X-raying Yonder Zoo.

See?

Not daffs, but yellow.

I love Off The Cuff for many reasons, the first being the wonderful friendship offered. I am looked after and nurtured by writers with greater knowledge and understanding than I, and I am in awe of these wonderful friends and their skills. And how different we all are. Give seven of us the same title, the same subject, and we will produce seven different projects.

It’s a fantastic way to get the brain kick-started, and with a notebook full of OTC tasks, I have a collection of ideas and stories waiting to be developed.

At our latest gathering, we were given the title ‘Speak of the Devil’.

This was my twenty minute offering.

Speak of the Devil 

Say my name, and I’ll cock an ear

Speak it twice, and a mist appears

A third time now, you’ll see my head

My tail you’ll see, a fourth time said.

Say my name, and I’ll come to you

We’ll whirl a dance in devil’s shoes

But take my hand and a deal we’ll make:

Your soul turns black, it’s mine to take.

Say my name and I’ll show you how

With worldly riches you can endow

Your lust for life will see no end

If I remain your one true friend.

But turn your back on all I’ve done

The gift I’ve wrapped will come undone

Betray me once and you will see

My living hell: Immortality.

Speak of the devil, and you will see his tail

Best to stay silent, if your soul’s not for sale.

Which writing tasks flex your creative muscle?

Laura x

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Sorry

I owe you an apology. Sorry.

On Friday, I removed my birthday notification from my Facebook page. It was a selfish act, I realise that now, but at the time, I was facing my very first birthday without my mother, having lost her at the end of March last year. The week leading up to my birthday was tough, as the corresponding days twelve months ago were when I took Mum to hospital for the operation from which she did not return. I wanted my birthday to pass by unnoticed.

At least, that’s what I thought until, on Saturday morning, a long-standing and very good friend posted birthday wishes on my timeline. Other notifications followed, and I also received texts and private messages. I was touched and teary, but most of all, moved by the warmth and kindness of friends and family. I give you my heart-felt thanks for your wishes and support, and I promise not to be so difficult next year.

And, as all writers know, one day, I  might use the experience in a book.

It was a busy day, and a hectic weekend. Here’s my birthday, and Mother’s Day in pictures.

Take care.

Laura x

Birthday gifts from my children

Carol Hedges and Laura meet…

Big Bros present

Carol Hedges signing my daughter’s copies of Carol’s ‘Spy Girl’ books

RNA author spotting in Smiths.

Wonderful Mother’s Day gifts and cards

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On the last day of the half-term holidays, whilst the children chill out in preparation for Monday, I’m hopping across to The Romanaics blog and discussing the stories that move me.

Please join me here. I’d love to know which songs, films, poems and books get right beneath your skin, and stay with you.

Have a great weekend.

Laura x

The post Blog Hopping appeared first on Laura E. James.

On Tuesday 5th February 2013, I took a jaunt to the Portsmouth Guildhall to watch Paloma Faith in her ‘Fall To Grace’ tour. She was outstanding not only with her stage craft and voice, but with her sense of style and her balletic moves. This photo in no way captures Paloma’s being, in the same way it cannot deliver her voice, but she was spectacular.

I’ve listened to both her albums, Do You Want The Truth Or Something Beautiful?, and Fall To Grace, pretty much back-to-back for months. I’d reverted to being my younger, teenage self, desperate to absorb every word and hang onto every note of every song.

Yes. I used to do that – the artists were different then, but the feeling was the same as it is now.

Black and Blue, the third track on the current Faith album, was playing when I resolved a plot issue in ‘Truth or Dare?’ I am truly inspired by her lyrics and admire her ability to tell a story musically, and with such depth of feeling. It’s quite an art.

The title of the second album, and the track Agony, brought to mind a poem I wrote in June 1987, entitled Grace.

I could easily go down,

So easily fall from grace,

You tease and touch and tempt me,

As you tenderly trace the depths and hollows

Of the places

Where I could easily go down.

                                                  *

In the softly scented room,

Where I could easily go down,

Your silent shadows soothe me,

And the secretive sound of your falling clothes,

As you ungown,

Say I will fall from grace.

*

I could easily go down

As you brush against my back,

You breathe and blow and blind me,

As you so deftly touch the depths and hollows

Within my soul,

As I so easily go down.

*

Tonight, I’ll fall from grace,

As you steal my shame away,

As together,

We go down.

Paloma Faith

Laura x

Click here for a link to my friend Sue’s account of the gig.

The post Grace appeared first on Laura E. James.

Arte Umbria

Surely learning a second language, particularly one from which many of our english words stem, can only improve my use of the written word. What do you think?

Take care.

Laura x

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