Bon Voyage

I have packed my bags and I am ready to go!

This Christmas will find my family and I cruising the Mediterranean. Starting in Barcelona and then stopping in Tangier, Las Palmas, Tenerife, Malaga and then back to Barcelona. It is my first cruise and I literally cannot wait. We are going on the Norwegian Epic which really is "Epic".

This therefore will be my last blog of 2015 and I will return in the New Year refreshed rejuvenated and hopefully with a half decent tan. I would like to take this opportunity of thanking you all for reading my blog and to everybody for their continued support. I have lots of projects in mind for 2016 and I am looking forward to returning to my Creative Writing Class in January. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas and an amazing New Year. Eat, drink and be merry. Bon voyage.

Now turning to my writing. Well it’s official.  I am now a published poet!

The competition which I entered a while ago have written to me today to confirm they have selected my poem to publish in their next compilation of poetry.  So although I didn’t win the competition (or the £25.00 prize money) I do get to see my work published.

I have also already submitted my next piece, titled “By the Sea”. United Press offer free writing competitions and also the chance to get your work published. Their primary objective is to increase people’s interest in poetry and encourage more people to take up poetry and creative writing and use United Press as a stepping stone to go on to bigger and better things.

We have been actively encouraged on our Creative Writing course to enter as many writing competitions as we can.  When submitting work to publishers or applying for a writing position  etc. it is always advantageous to be able to show on your ‘Writing CV’ that you have already had your work published.

You can find further information about past, present and future competitions run by United Press at http://www.unitedpress.co.uk/

Anyway the theme was Spring and here is my contribution.

Spring Has Begun

As the tyranny of winter takes its last breath

And the air becomes fresh, pure and new

The queen of the seasons is upon us

Bringing with it the sweet smell of dew.

The trees and plants prepare for rebirth

Budding blooms raise their sleepy heads

The hustle and bustle of the bumble bees

Begin their tireless work on flowerbeds.

The cold hard ground now a carpet of green

Daisies dotted like a sprinkle of flakes

Fluffy white clouds, clear blue skies

Returning to us what the winter takes.

The enchanting scent of the fresh new rose

Reaching and lifting in the warmth of the sun

High on the hills, deep in the meadows

Greeting us, meeting us swaying with fun.

Butterflies fluttering their delicate wings

Gloriously glistening to dazzle and stun

The warmth the laughter, the happy ever after

That winter is over and spring has begun.

 

Living with Epilepsy

Well folks that is my 10 week course completed.  I am feeling a little lost tonight.  Good news is that they are continuing with another course in January so I am already signed up and ready to go again.  There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the course and the participants have inspired me and my creative writing.  I feel I can accomplish anything right now!

If anybody is interested in the course feel free to email me at hayleighm26@gmail.com (this email address is specifically for my writing) and I can answer any questions you may have.

My task for the final week is to create and write a short script.  Fortunately I have a few weeks to get this done.  The only script I have ever written was back at High School (with help from my friends) when we did a production of the Wizard of Oz, therefore the story was already in place and as I was overly familiar with the story it was not too difficult.  I have started so hopefully the ideas will soon bleed from my brain.

In the penultimate week of the course we had to create an article.  This should be informative, factual and personal to yourself, with a view to providing information whilst still making a connection with the reader.

Six years ago I was diagnosed with Epilepsy, here is my article.

Living with Epilepsy

by Hayley Mars

This is an article written not by any medical professional but by me a person who suffers with epilepsy and who would like to tell my story to help others who may now or in the future be diagnosed with epilepsy.

What is Epilepsy?

Epilepsy is a neurological disorder marked by sudden recurrent episodes of sensory disturbance, loss of consciousness and/or convulsions, associated with abnormal electrical activity in the brain.  Epilepsy is usually diagnosed after a person has had more than one seizure.

I attended my daughter’s primary school for the parents SATS meeting.  It was March 2009,  a Tuesday evening.  There were approximately 70 mothers and fathers sat in the hall listening to the Year 6 teachers explain the SATS procedure.  My last recollection was the teachers talking to us about the Science SATS and then the next thing I was waking up on the school hall floor, confused and not really aware of where I was apart from recognising I was in a school hall. The paramedics, my mother and brother were walking towards me.  This was my first grand mal seizure.

I was told afterwards, by another parent, that I turned and was looking directly at them but I did not appear to focus, I appeared vacant.  I started to jerk (convulse) and fell forwards to the floor from my chair.  I continued to convulse whilst on the floor and the hall was cleared, an ambulance was called and my mother was also called.  I was apparently unconscious for approximately 3 minutes.  However I lost about 40-50 minutes.  Fortunately there were two parents at the meeting who were nurses and who attended to me.  They also made it clear to the paramedics that I had not fainted, but that I had had some sort of a seizure.

After this incident I was referred to a Specialist and he recommended  an MRI scan and an EEG scan. This was to determine the extent of my condition and to ensure there was no underlying condition causing my seizures.  After the scans my mother and I attended hospital and spent a great deal of time talking to the specialist about everything that had gone on over the years.  He asked me many questions and he also asked my mother many questions after which he diagnosed me with Temporal-lobe Epilepsy.  I have been taking Keppra since diagnosis (1000mg a day) and have been seizure free ever since.

There are over 40 types of epilepsy so knowing somebody with epilepsy does not really tell you very much about their epilepsy and the type of seizures they have.  Epilepsy is not that simple. Doctors gather lots of different information, as they did with me, to assess the causes of seizures. They will look closely at your medical history.  If you have had two or more seizures that started in the brain you may be diagnosed with epilepsy. Getting a diagnosis is not always easy as there is no single test that can diagnose epilepsy.  There are also different things that can trigger a seizure.  With me it appeared to be stress and sleep-deprivation,

Types of Seizures

There are many different types of epileptic seizures, however they are divided into two main types, focal seizures (also called partial seizures) and generalised seizures. Epileptic seizures always start in the brain.  The brain has two sides called hemispheres. Each hemisphere has four parts called lobes. Each lobe is responsible for different things such as vision, speech and emotions.

In my case prior to my grand mal seizure, I had been suffering from simple focal seizures (partial seizures) for many years, I just didn’t know it.  My earliest memory was whilst pregnant in 1997.  At that time I thought it was the baby turning.  I never suspected I had epilepsy it never occurred to me.  Until such time as the doctor gave me my diagnosis I was still explaining my symptoms away as funny turns due to stress, lack of sleep and working too hard. These SFS varied in frequency, intensity and awareness.

Here are examples of Simple Focal Seizures  (SFS)

Temporal lobe simple focal seizures may include:

• a ‘rising’ feeling in the stomach (like the feeling you get on a fairground ride where you 'leave your tummy at the top')

• deja vu (feeling like you've 'been here before')
• getting an unusual smell or taste
• a sudden intense feeling of fear or joy.

Frontal lobe simple focal seizures may include:

• a strange feeling like a ‘wave’ going through the head
• stiffness or twitching in part of the body (such as an arm or hand).

Parietal lobe simple focal seizures may include:

• a feeling of numbness or tingling
• a sensation that an arm or leg feels bigger or smaller than it actually is.

Occipital lobe simple focal seizures may include:

• visual disturbances such as coloured or flashing lights
• hallucinations (seeing something that isn’t actually there).

When I was questioned by the specialist about my ‘funny turns’ I literally described Temporal lobe SFS (as above) word for word.  Despite, at that time, epilepsy not being mentioned or considered by me.  Once diagnosed I rushed home and did what all newly diagnosed people do and googled it.   

Generalised seizures

Generalised seizures affect both sides of the brain at once and can happen without warning. The person will be unconscious (except in myoclonic seizures), even if just for a few seconds. Afterwards they will not remember what happened during the seizure.

Tonic clonic (convulsive) seizures (sometimes called grand mal)

These are the seizures most people think of as epilepsy.

At the start of the seizure:

• the person becomes unconscious
• their body goes stiff and if standing up they usually fall backwards
• they may cry out
• they may bite their tongue or cheek.

During the seizure:

• they jerk and shake (convulse) as their muscles relax and tighten rhythmically
• their breathing might be affected and become difficult or sound noisy
• their skin may change colour and become very pale or bluish
• they may wet themselves.

After the seizure (once the jerking stops):

• their breathing and colour return to normal

• they may feel tired, confused, have a headache or want to sleep.

There are of course other types of seizures including absences (sometimes called petit mal) tonic seizures, atonic seizures, myoclonic seizures and clonic seizures.

I am fortunate to have only ever had one grand mal seizure (that I am aware of) and after talking to support groups and reading other people's stories some sufferers can experience repeated seizures on a daily basis. It has made me realise how much epilepsy affects and controls their lives.  Over 65 million people worldwide suffer with epilepsy.  This is treated mainly by medication and indeed over 70% of people with epilepsy, who control it with medication, remain seizure free and whilst you cannot cure epilepsy you can control it.  In some cases where medication fails to control epilepsy another option is brain surgery.  This usually involves removing a specific area of the brain which is thought to be causing the seizures.

There are many different side effects to taking medication, as there is with most medication.  In my case it was mainly tiredness, which is a common side effect of Keppra.  Obviously six years down the line I have become accustomed to this and make sure I get plenty of sleep (and a few naps, when I can).  I did initially suffer weight loss, which is another side effect, however I do think that this was more to do with not being permitted to drive for 12 months and therefore having to use my legs more, rather than my medication.

One of the groups that I have found genuinely helpful and supportive is Epilepsy Support who you can find on Facebook. They are not medical professionals but are working tirelessly to raise awareness of epilepsy by encouraging people with epilepsy, or care for family with epilepsy, to share their stories and offer each other support. https://www.facebook.com/epilepsysupports/info/?tab=page_info.

References: http://www.epilepsysociety.org.uk/

Memories of Fleetwood

An old school friend of mine has a Facebook Page called Fleetwood Stories and Poems.  It’s a public group and a place where you can share your stories and poems.  David is a teacher and creative writer.  He is also a musician. David lives in Derbyshire but is a ‘Cod Head’ at heart.  As I am only starting my literary journey his input has been hugely appreciated.  I therefore have two pieces to contribute to his page. Thank you David for your words of encouragement and I hope you enjoy. If you want to check out his writing you can find it here at http://davidaddingtonwritingandmusic.blogspot.co.uk/

First Love

On the sandbanks late one night

He held my hand and stroked my thigh

We drank cider and smoked cigarettes

Watching the fishing boats pass us by.

He pulled me roughly close to him

His acne visible in the pale moonlight

With a lunging aggression he took my virginity

On a cold and rainy Friday night.

We talked of school, of football teams

One day he was going to be a star

I gazed at him, adoringly

Knowing he would never get far.

He walked me home and kissed me hard

Beneath the porch with the broken light

I felt a crushing desire inside

As I watched him disappear out of sight.

And then the morning sickness came

My dreams of the future crumbled and died

I felt so helpless, so foolish and sad

Night after night I just sat and I cried.

All they said was you should have known better

I was to them a naive young girl

So I let them all scold me as nobody told me

About the pill and the end of the world.

The neighbours gossiped as neighbours do

But I became brave and held my head high

And when the time came, I knew I was to blame

For this blond haired beauty with bright blue eyes.

Now and then I look back with fondness

To that crazy drunken Friday night

And as I look at the man now holding my hand

He’s the image of a boy who once held me so tight.

by Hayley Mars

Fleetwood Memorial Park

We all have a favourite place, somewhere special, somewhere we feel happy and content. A place that creates memories and makes memories, a place filled with nostalgia. For me it is Fleetwood Memorial Park. An A Grade II listed park designed and developed in 1926 by Sir Leslie Patrick Abercrombie as a First World War Memorial Park . It is a beautiful, versatile green oasis and, in my opinion, the very heart of Fleetwood.  It has been a constant in my life from as far back as I can remember.  Feeding the ducks as a small child clutching my father’s hand and then holding onto my own children's hands.  It has always been an abundance of family activity, from fairgrounds to football games, holiday clubs to fitness forums. Tiny children gleefully squealing in excitement, teenagers experiencing their very first kiss and the elderly couples strolling slowly and steadily arm in arm reminiscing no doubt about their very first kiss.

This park has changed so much over the years but one monument which takes pride of place is the Cenotaph a tall imposing statue paying tribute to Fleetwood’s fallen.  Every year on Remembrance Sunday the statue and grass verges are a sea of red, adorned with poppies from the young and old in silent commemoration of the brave men and women who fought for our Country. Townsfolk turn up in droves filling the pathways that weave through the park with their hushed admiration and respect as Fleetwood Boys Band blast out Land of Hope and Glory giving me goose bumps although I am wrapped up well.

There are six entrances to the park, the main one located on Park Avenue.  As you walk through the triumphal arches, the path, Remembrance Avenue, is lined with sycamore trees leading up to the grandeur of the Cenotaph and beyond this shrine is a beautiful rose garden, a scented sanctuary to take you away from the rest of world.  Close to this little piece of heaven is the ornamental duck pond, which has over the years intermittently been a reserve to families of ducks, now surrounded with a wealth of flowerbeds and slippery limestone rockery.

Over the years my children have played and performed in the park.  I too have spent my cheerful carefree youth pounding the pavements and occasionally rebelling against my parents.  I have sat silently observing and alternately stood singing and celebrating. Every corner, every crevice brings forth a surge of memories.  Not just for me but for the many families of our small town.  It is iconic and proud, a keeper of secrets, our haven.  It lives in my heart and the hearts of my children.  It continues, over the years, to be replenished and restored, fortunately without taking away the true character we all hold so dear.

'Nearer, My God, to Thee'

The task this week on my creative writing course was to combine creative writing with an historical event.  The piece should include creative writing and factual references. No prizes for guessing what I chose to write about.

On board the ill-fated ship, the Titanic, on her maiden voyage were the Collyer family. Harvey Collyer aged 31, his wife Charlotte 30 and their daughter Marjorie Lottie (Madge) aged just 8.  The family travelled second class and were moving permanently to Idaho, following in the footsteps of friends who had moved there, and everything they owned (including their life savings) went down with ship in the early hours  of April 15th 1912.

Whilst Madge and her mother survived, Mr Collyer didn’t and his body was never recovered from the waters.  Indeed out of 168 men travelling second class only 14 men survived.

Here is Madge’s story.

Madge awoke to the sound of whispering voices.  She wondered if it was actually the whispering that had awoken her or the fact that the soft purring which had rocked her to sleep had seemingly stopped.  “Momma” she too whispered.  Madge made out the shape of her daddy stood in the room and he turned, crouched and touched her cheek “go back to sleep Madge, it’s very late”.

As she heard daddy whisper to momma “but there’s no danger. An officer told me so” Madge drifted back off to sleep.

A sharp banging on the door stirred Madge from her sleep.  There seemed to be a commotion outside. Madge could hear muffled shouts but couldn’t understand a word of it. With eyes still bleary and a mind still hazy from being dragged out of a deep sleep, Madge momentarily believed she may be dreaming.  Her momma and daddy, already dressed, were hurriedly dressing her and attempting to put some sort of thick cork vest on her. Madge wriggled and squirmed until her momma chastised her “come on now Madge stop your fidgeting, there’s a good girl, we need to go”.  Madge asked her where, but she didn’t answer.

Momma pulled Madge into her arms and along with throngs of equally disheveled folk they hurried along the narrow corridors. Madge, in her momma’s arms, stared into the frightened nameless faces as they rushed by them, knocking them rudely and offering no apologies.  Madge saw smaller children than her, clinging on to their mommas, crying, some screaming and she tried to be brave, just like her daddy would want, but Madge was terrified, she didn’t know where they were going or what was happening and hot salty tears fell uncontrollably from her tired eyes.

As they climbed the staircase that would take them outside, momma’s grip grew tighter and Madge could barely breath.  Her momma was hurting her but she didn’t complain, something bad was happening and Madge did not want to make a fuss.  Daddy lead them outside and Madge blanched at the bitter cold.  It was so severe she felt it was biting her face.  The hot tears on her face soon became cold and painful.  If Madge thought that downstairs had been frightening, nothing could have prepared her for what befell her.  

There was a mass of panicked people, spinning in different directions as though they were lost. Madge heard people screaming “we’re sinking, we’re going down” and various officers repeatedly shouting “all women and children to the port side”, and daddy lead them to what Madge assumed was the ‘port side’. Madge looked up at the still starry sky and a sudden explosion made her jump in her momma’s arms. Suddenly the sky was lit up with rockets as though it was Guy Fawkes Night and amidst the chaos Madge found herself looking at something beautiful.  As if by chance, just at that moment, Madge heard the sound of the band playing ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee’ this was daddy’s favourite, the one he would always sing to her and she locked eyes with her beloved daddy for the briefest instant and saw both fear and love in his eyes.

Suddenly out of nowhere a huge pair of hands wrenched her from her momma’s arms and she felt herself suspended in air, as though she was a bird who had taken flight, she screamed in terror “momma, momma, momma”.  The same rough hands set her down on a cold wooden bench and before she knew it, she was back in her momma’s arms, feeling momma’s sweet kisses and soothing reassurances. “Daddy, where’s my daddy” Madge whimpered as her momma rocked, kissed and rubbed the cold from her small hands. “Don’t you worry Madge, he will be along soon” she promised.

Madge felt the sensation of the boat being lowered into the black swell of the water below and she was terror-stricken.  She looked up at the desperate faces, frantically searching for his familiar face. Daddy was still on the ship which Madge now realised was sinking fast, although she did not know why.  Everybody around her were shamelessly moaning with grief for their loved ones and Madge too felt no shame in expressing her fear,anguish and hopelessness.  Her momma cried with her.

As the boat made contact with the water Madge looked on in horror to see passengers hurling themselves from the ship, hundreds of bodies were floating in the dark, icy water surrounding them with deep mournful wails and desperate pleas for assistance.  The officer with the rough hands rowed their boat away from the maddening confusion and the women screamed at him to go back for their loved ones.  He never answered them, he never even looked at them.  Madge curled up in her mother’s arms in a fetal like position and closed her weary eyes.  The howls of the poor souls left in the icy waters were slowly dying in the chill of the night air, until everything fell silent apart from the smothered sobs of the passengers on board.  Madge tucked her face deep into her momma’s bosom and gently hummed ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee’.

Reference: http://www.encyclopedia-titanica.org/

Other news on the writing front.  

I have recently submitted one of my poems in a competition I stumbled upon (I will of course keep you updated) and I have also been sent the following link by my tutor www.inkitt.com/dreamlands?utm_campaign=w2&utm_source=writerscafe this is to write a fantasy fiction or science fiction novel (minimum word count 40000) closing date is the 14th December 2015 so a little bit of a tall order really.  As my chosen genre is usually crime/thriller I have come out of my comfort zone and given it a go and although it is highly unlikely I will have 40000 words written within 3 weeks time, I am enjoying exploring this genre and hopefully, even if I don’t make that 3 week deadline, it will be something I can continue and complete at a later date.  

Anybody out there who already has a fantasy fiction/science fiction novel, written but unpublished, or even a work in progress it is definitely worth submitting as the winner gets their story published.  

Good luck.

The Beginning

I love to write.  I mean I really love to write.  But am I good enough to perhaps one day get my work published? I have read everywhere the impact the countless soul destroying rejections and bad reviews can have. Whilst I have certainly written many poems, personally and for friends and family who have turned to me in their hour of writing need, have I got what it takes to write a novel.  As that is my goal, to enthrall others as so many authors have enthralled me.  How satisfying would it be for just one person (hopefully more) to read my book and say “wow, that was great”.

Everybody has to start somewhere and my start came courtesy of Blackpool and the Fylde College on a Wednesday evening with a small group of equally enthusiastic wannabe writers.  What a wonderful group of people I have had the pleasure to share my work with.  We are all different, we all want different things out of this course and we all come from different walks of life. However one thing is clear, we all love to read and have a passion to write.  We have been blessed with two wonderful tutors, both of whom have encouraged us to explore our minds, our talents and put pen to paper and begin to create our dream.

I have to confess that I started the course quite ignorant to how difficult it would actually be. I am no literary genius, I have no bachelors degree, masters degree or any degree truth be told. How on earth would I be able to write, edit and publish a book? Now 7 weeks later I feel much more confident, ambitious and believe that if I can set myself definite goals and maintain the desire to reach those goals I have much more of a chance to succeed.

Since starting the course I have now edited much of my poetry.  I have partially planned my book, written the prologue and a further 5000 words. I have undertaken the many challenges set by my tutors with great feedback and ever helpful constructive criticism.  It’s not much (baby steps) but it’s a start and I am a novice. I have done so much more in the last 7 weeks than I have done in the last 7 years. Whilst I still work hard, my children don’t seem to need me as much, unless the WiFi is down or they need a lift, thus giving me time write.  

My passion to write, which can be and has been smothered by the complicated path of life and the day to day relentless grind, has suddenly been reignited by these classes and the amazing people who were strangers to me two months ago.  My tutor said to the class one week, it was not just about the teaching but about being in a room with writers, with like-minded people who share your passion and who all feed of each other's ideas, aspirations and creativity.

One of the challenges we receive each week on the course is “the Scrabble Board Challenge” where a number of random words are provided for us (below) to use in a piece of writing.  Here is what I produced.

DI Burns looked at the massacre before him and recognised he was in the presence of the devil.  All the walls, seats and floor were pasted with the aftermath of the carnage that had taken place.  What had commenced as an educational tour had resulted in torture and dismemberment.  That this was all displayed in such a sacred place made the bile in his stomach kick and he wretched for the first time in a long time.

He gazed long and hard at the Virgin Mary splattered with the blood of the unsuspecting victims, she was unmoved, seemingly untouched by this debacle.  The Angel Gabriel looked down upon her as if his mere presence was a warning from god. He looked troubled, or maybe it was a trick of the light casting a sombre glow.

Burns was old and he was tired, he was three payslips from retirement.  He had seen too many corpses, inhaled so much blood that he felt it had rotted his brain. He was done, time served, goals more or less accomplished that is until today.  Before him lay sixteen teenagers, carefully arranged by their executioner. They were just kids, out on a school excursion as a treat for being straight A students.  Now here they were, a mangled mass of bloody faces with no graduation, no careers and no future.  Sixteen nameless faces to identify, to notify next of kin and to deal with the fallout thereafter. As the true horror of what he was witnessing washed over him like a tidal of terror he clutched the rail beside him and silently vowed for retribution.

Week 7 challenge was to create a blog, so here it is and I hope you have enjoyed it.  This is truly the beginning for me and over the next weeks, months and maybe years I hope to share my work with you and keep you updated of my progress and, of course, welcome any feedback. I am currently looking at perhaps publishing some of my poetry which is already prepared and good to go. Any direction of where to go with this would be greatly appreciated.