Poems of puppy Fozzie Jago as he is exploring and experiencing the world!

Hooms must get up and work now
And make the Foz him’s tea
Some chiggun will I has now
And a bit of cheez or three

Jane Jago

Namaste, my disciples.

It seems that there are still some people out there who appreciate the value of good, old-fashioned, solid advice. I recently heard from Stephen who had just been appraised of my overly generous offer to provide helpful solutions to less worldly-wise and experienced authors, struggling with the minutiae of the literary life. He wrote:

It’s hard to believe that authors weren’t queuing around the corner for this kind of positive reinforcement. You just can’t please some people. If I may lay a humble question at the feet of the omnipotent IVy Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV:

What should an up and thrusting new author do when they become tired of being ignored by their publisher; when even the hammer blow of e-rhetoric fails to smash its way into their ivory tower? Should they:

1. a) continue with fortitude
2. b) continue with attitude
3. c) find another publisher
4. d) bomb their building?

I brace myself for the wisdom in true author style (with fingers rammed firmly in ears and accompanying la la las), just in case said wisdom is in danger of hitting the mark.

Stephen

This is a question many of us face in the early days of our authorial journey. Myself, I foresaw the possibility in advance and took careful steps to circumnavigate the entire issue by simply not having a publisher.

Admittedly, I considered the idea. But the incredible lack of appreciation those who I did approach showed for my – now universally acclaimed – literary masterpiece, rapidly convinced me that they were not worthy of receiving a slice of the riches it would be earning. I shook their dust from my feet and took the high road into the perilous mountains of self-publication.

Perilous but liberating.

The freedom to say what I wish to say in the way I wish to say it. To share of my artistic genius in the most intimate of relationships with my readership, not filtered or separated by layers of PR. Heart to heart. Mano a mano. That is the only way to be.

For me.

But it is not a way for the weak or the ignorant.

So, for you, dear Stephen, I offer you solution (e). E for the essential epitome which proves the perennial panacea for your problem. Nix that publisher and instead of touting your books desperately for approval to another, find one you can pay handsomely to provide the service you require. Then, as their customer, you will be king and they will be bound to answer your emails, phone calls, texts and all other communications. But be aware this extra level of service may also carry an extra charge…

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

You can find more of IVy’s profound thoughts in How To Start Writing A Book courtesy of E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

Take this exclusive opportunity to explore the mysteries of the zodiac through the wisdom of the esoterically enigmatic Madam Pendulica…

Aries

This is the month to start spinning and weaving your future plans. Don’t go bleating to your friends when you refuse to follow the flock. You might wind up feeling sheepish if you do.

Taurus

This is one of those times you have to remind yourself that a red flag is not always something to charge at. Do what you are good at, dig in your heels and refuse to be goaded.

Gemini

Don’t be surprised when you are accused of being two-faced. It might make perfect sense to you to hold two completely conflicting ideas at the same time, but normal mortals just don’t understand.

Cancer

Take a sideways look at what’s going on at work this month. It might be a good time to withdraw and hide in your shell until the tide turns.

Leo

You need to pounce on every opportunity this month. Take real pride in your achievements and keep out on the prowl, don’t laze around waiting for things to come to you.

Virgo

Shy and retiring is not the best way to go this month. Save your maidenly outrage for something that really deserves it. Like losing socks in the laundry.

Libra

Feeling unbalanced always tips you over the edge. So take extra care this month to weigh up the pros and cons before you throw your weight behind anyone’s plans.

Scorpio

Much as you want to scuttle under a rock and keep out of the limelight, this month you need to resist turning tail. Strike out for success and inject something dramatic into your life.

Sagittarius

Life seems to be galloping away from you this month. But rein yourself in as you need to keep that energy burst ready for the final furlong.

Aquarius

Troubled waters are bubbling up – maybe through your bathroom floor. This could be the time to splash out on that new water feature you wanted for the garden.

Pisces

Time to scale up your ambitions and get a wiggle on or you will be left high and dry. Don’t flounder, build yourself a solid bass and you’ll be able to skate through those dangerous shoals this month.

Madame Pendulica predicts she will return…

The Abbots’ Way is monochrome
A walk through skeletal trees
Where frost hangs white on thistle tops
And ears and noses freeze

We gain the fields, the dogs now run
Their breath like tattered clouds
As human feet break frozen grass
A sound both sharp and loud

While in the darkness of the wood
All is as black as night
Except the scarlet holly tree
Which feels obscenely bright

The Abbots’ Way was monochrome
In black an silver hues
But as the sun climbs in the sky
It turns to gold and blue

Jane Jago

Dying to be Cured is set in a modern-day Britain where the Roman Empire still rules. Dai and Julia take on a fight against institutional corruption whilst dealing with the demands of family, friendship and domestic crises.

It was a long argument, and metaphorically bloody, but Dai and Bryn lost in the end. The upshot was that a couple of days later Julia, in a fair approximation of a nurse’s uniform, and an apparently feeble, shawl-swaddled and wheelchair-bound Gwen booked into the most expensive of the cuponae in Canovium. Gwen, in her role as a hypochondriac from Londinium, immediately sent a letter of introduction, together with the required medical documentation regarding her condition, to the temple, together with a very generous donation and the implication that there would be more if a speedy invitation to attend a service could be arranged. Then they sat back and waited, secure in the knowledge that Bryn, Dai and a group of heavily armed Praetorians and Vigiles were concealed within ten minutes of the temple, and Edbert and Gallus were even closer. 

They had only been settled in their room for half an hour when Julia’s wristphone bleeped. She looked at the screen and went to the open the door. Gallus slipped in from the corridor.

“Edbert stayed in our room. Although he isn’t bad at creeping he’s too big to skulk around in cuponae. So I’m here. We’ve found a couple security cameras out in the woods. At least one is unauthorised. Shows the back entrance to the temple. Have patched your ever-loving spouses in on that one because somebody regularly parks a big all-wheel drive in a carefully constructed hide a small way back in the woods from the door. Edbert thinks the camera probably belonged to wossname Thrace, and I see no reason to disagree.” He looked at the two women soberly. “Will the pair of you please be careful. I don’t like the smell of this place at all. You armed?”

Julia went to the wheelchair which stood against the wall, and lifted off the push handles to disclose two hefty padded tubes each of which concealed a disassembled firearm.

“Good. Now I’m off. We won’t lose sight of you until you go into the temple. Then you’re on your own until you put up a squawk for help. Don’t leave it too late.”

And he was gone.

“That,” Gwen observed, “is a very worried man.”

“On a lot of levels. Firstly I think he genuinely likes us both, but then when you add in Dai and Bryn – and the fact that his boss just happens to be my foster brother.” Julia chuckled. “Rock. Hard place.” Then she became suddenly solemn. “Was Bryn okay with this when you parted company?”

Gwen’s smile was soft and loving. “He was worried, but accepting. And Dominus Llewellyn?”

“Mostly. And his name is Dai. He is no more dominus to you than I am domina. I think we are all friends. Or at least I hope we are.”

The women shared a warm hug and Julia went off to find them some food.

Fortunately for everyone’s nerves, the summons to the temple came the very next morning. A pile of letters was delivered to the cupona and Gwen’s assumed name was among the addressees. Julia brought the brief note with a substantial breakfast.

“Eat up, Gwen, it looks as if we have a date. Morning prayers. And it’s about certain you will be called for ‘treatment’. Are you sure about this?”

Gwen smiled a strong and reassuring smile.

“Yes. But I’ve been thinking. They may insist I am tended by their own carers once inside. I’ll do my best to insist that I want you with me, but don’t worry too much if they don’t let you stay with me all the time.”

Julia touched the older woman’s smooth cheek.

“They just better not hurt you.”

“They won’t,” Gwen said stoutly. “I’m supposed to have far too much money for them to treat me with anything but care.”

And then it was time. They joined the queue for admittance to the temple, in a quiet and orderly fashion. When they reached the gate they showed their invitation and were ushered through to the front of the courtyard. Julia leaned on the wheelchair and spoke through the corner of her mouth.

“You don’t have to go through with this.”

Gwen just turned her head and smiled.

The purple toga-clad charlatan came to the front of the dais and began to read a list of names. Gwen’s falso nomine, Gwendolyn Tyrweth, was read out quite quickly, and Julia maneuvered the heavy wheelchair towards the white-clad priests at the temple door. For a moment, she feared those who accompanied the supplicants might not be permitted entry, but her fears were groundless. 

“Will you take your lady to room number seven, please?” one of the priestly types by the door asked, pointing into the building. “And help her onto the bed.”

Julia nodded, noting the two nerve whip armed security guards standing alertly behind the priests. She maneuvered the wheelchair around a sharp dogleg corner and was glad to find that room seven wasn’t too far along what looked to be a very long corridor.

Dying to be Cured by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook first appeared in Gods of Clay: A Sci Fi Roundtable Anthology.

Advice on growing old disgracefully from an elderly delinquent with many years of expertise in the art – plus free optional snark…

If you’re old then it’s time to begin
To think about how life has been
To look back and dream
Of what might have been
Not to set out and try every sin!

E.M. Swift-Hook

I can’t hear you any more. You are too far away now. For a long time I could hear you singing as you walked away from me. Now all there is is the wind soughing in the trees and that’s such a sad sound that I go inside and shut the door. I run my fingers over the smooth planed wood of the table and imagine it’s your skin under my hand. The dog lifts her silky head and catches my tears in her fur, standing patiently as I cry out the hurt of you leaving.

I mustn’t do this. I must not. I scrub my hands over my hot cheeks feeling the wetness with my fingertips.

What a mess. What a lonely mess. All I can hear now is my own breathing. All I can feel now is the cold lump in my chest where I used to have a heart. All I can do is bury my face in your pillow and inhale the smell of your frost crisped hair.

It has been the most part of a day now and the sky is tinted as red as my blood. I am so frozen that I do not even hear the opening of the door, I do not feel the cold breath of wind against my hot cheeks, I do not sense another person coming to stand behind me. It isn’t until a pair of arms comes around me from behind that I think I start to breathe again.

I turn and hide my face in the prickly wool of your jumper.
“You came back.” The creaky scratchy little voice barely sounds like me.
Your calloused palms cup my face, and I see the tears on your cheeks as I feel them on my own.
“I belong here,” you say, and the sky no longer smells of blood, and the dog goes back to her basket.

I feel in my soul that you will manage to leave me one day. But not today. And that’s enough.

 Jane Jago

Poems of puppy Fozzie Jago as he is exploring and experiencing the world!

Dad has a critter that bites the grass
And he drags it along by its tail
I comes inside, coz it growls a lot
And it murders the slugs an the snails
I watches it out of the sitting room door
As the spadgers comes down for a see
They pulls up the worms where the critter has been
And has wormity pie for their tea
But down in the cow field a big critter roars
It bites up the grass and it frows
And it stomps around like a heffalumps
While the grassy smell gets up me nose
Though I’m with hoomum I likes it not
When we’re out for an afternoon roam
And I watches the monster with careful eyes
Being glad when we gets safe to home

Jane Jago

Bonjour learners,

As part of one’s campaign to educate, inform, and elucidate, one tries to be both approachable and kindly. Which occasionally causes one to make silly decisions. In a foolish moment, one allowed oneself to be persuaded that answering questions from students would be a good idea. Which it probably isn’t. However, one’s word is one’s bond. So. Have at you…

Dear Teacher,
I am puzzled. Very puzzled.
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Regards,
Claire.

Oh Claire, Claire. Do not attempt to be clever at the expense of your teacher. One is not the Mad Hatter, and your name is Claire, not Alice. However, one will answer your question seriously.

It is a matter of symbols.
A raven? An ugly black bird?
A writing desk? Just a piece of furniture?

Err. No. In order to unriddle the unanswerable riddle, it is necessary for your masterful tutor to break down the barriers in your tiny mind and introduce you to the borderless and boundless world of possibilities that symbolic understanding can open to you.
A raven can be seen as the harbinger of evil, or as the bringer of knowledge and thought to the small minds of the little people who walk the earth beneath them.
A writing desk, of course, symbolises the earthbound woodenness of humanity and our struggle to rise above the limitations of our tiny lives.

Oho, Claire, one sees your puzzled little face. And hears your pathetic cry.
“How are such symbols helping? The raven and the writing desk are complete opposites.”

But they are not. They are opposite ends of the same spectrum of human endeavour. The raven is achievement and the writing desk is that place from which we seek to achieve.
Therefore a raven is like a writing desk because the one leads to the achievement symbolised by the other.

Without the writing desk the raven is pointless and without the raven, the writing desk cannot exist.

And now Claire, write one hundred times.
‘I must not attempt to be facetious, it is unbecoming in youth and unworthy in age.’

In disappointment,

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

You can find more of IVy’s profound thoughts in How To Start Writing A Book courtesy of E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

Take this exclusive opportunity to explore the mysteries of the zodiac through the wisdom of the esoterically enigmatic Madam Pendulica…

Aries 

This sign is a sucker for furry and cuddly, but not too keen on walkies. Aries has an affinity with long-haired cats and King Charles Spaniels.

Note: Do not ever take an Aries to an animal shelter. They will adopt the lot

Taurus

Perhaps surprisingly, given the lumbering nature of the sign, the ideal animal companion is something small and intensely portable. Give a bull a gerbil and they will be ecstatic.

Note: Do not expect a Taurus to put itself out for a pet that requires a lot of care and/or exercise.

Gemini

This sign swings both ways petwise. A Gemini will be happy with either a tarantula or a kitten. Nothing in between.

Note: The two-faced twins will deeply confuse dogs and are inimical to horses.

Cancer

The crab enjoys canine company of the large and drooling sort. Or goldfish.

Note: Good at dressage, especially all the going sideways bits.

Leo

What could the king of the jungle require as a pet? A Siamese cat? An elegant elkhound? An Arab steed? No. None of these. Leo gravitates towards beekeeping.

Note: Should your Leo require an indoor pet, stick insects are usefully easy to care for.

Virgo

Buy a Virgo a bunny rabbit and they will be happy forever. Or if they want a walking companion, the stars suggest a yellow Labrador – for preference one with attitude.

Note: Do not expect Virgo to deal with animal sexuality. They don’t.

Libra

The balanced nature of the Libran is made complete by pets that can be kept as pairs. Lovebirds are an obvious choice.

Note: Do not buy your Libra lover a tortoise. They will forget them during hibernation.

Scorpio

The snarkily poisonous nature of this sign is uniquely suited to the keeping of snakes, or parrots with a vocabulary of obscenities.

Note: Don’t buy a Scorpio a puppy, they will encourage it to bite people.

Sagittarius

The half-horse Sagittarius really bonds with horses, ponies, or hamsters.

Note: If a dog is needed, the Irish Wolfhound is nearly as big as a small pony.

Capricorn

Surprisingly, Capricorn does not get on with goats. They are best suited to being owned by scruffy terriers that fart a lot.

Note: Capricorn and cats is a combustible combination. There has not been a Capricorn born that won’t irritate cats enough to get their face ripped off.

Aquarius

Aquarians like fish. Both to eat and to look at. Feed them battered cod and buy then an indoor aquarium wherein they can watch brightly coloured swimmers.

Note: Aquarius will not tolerate any pet that wants to sleep with them. 

Pisces

Pisceans do not get on with fish. They are, on the other hand, deeply enamoured of guineapigs and whippets.

Note: Do not buy a Piscean a bunny rabbit. They will eat it.

Madame Pendulica predicts she will return…