indie author – Page 4 – Sarah Michelle Lynch

Posted on February 23, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #23 – Francesca Marlow

They say I’m doing well, but I guess it depends on how you define the word well. I’m healthy; I have a job, a roof over my head, two beautiful little girls, a very supportive partner, a big loving family and a small group of awesome friends. In my eyes, that makes me richer than many people.

To the outside world, my life may be viewed as a happy one and for the most part, it is. However, the life I portray on social media are the parts I want people to see, therefore, yes; I’m socially well.

What most don’t realise, and the part I rarely share is the hours it cost me in MIND time to get to this point in my life. The struggles, the low points, the lonely, late night cries, the endless loss of sleep, the battles with my own thoughts at two, three and four in a morning.

In August 2014, I split from my husband after eight years of marriage, ending a relationship of thirteen years. At thirty-three years old, I never thought I would find myself in that position. I was starting my life over and I have never been as scared of anything in my life. Not even childbirth. I was suddenly solely responsible for, not only looking after myself but my two little girls – the two most precious things in my life. It turns out; they probably ended up looking after me the most with their innocent little minds, big hearts and simple outlooks on life. Hell, I envied them. I’m still shocked at how isolating it feels when I see their empty beds staring back at me when they are staying at their dad’s. That’s when the sun goes down and the nightmares creep in.

Just because a person chooses to remain private, doesn’t spout all their problems publicly, or struggles to openly discuss them, doesn’t mean they don’t suffer. To the contrary, the quiet ones suffer, too. Being trapped in your own thoughts, not being able to make sense of them enough to talk about them, to even your closest friends, is a scary place to be. Add to that the fear of sounding stupid, the fear of admitting your failings, the fear of how society will judge you and you may find that you understand more why so many people suffer in silence. Sometimes, it’s the safest way to be.

Paranoia and insecurity are a bitch…

Who is going to want me with two kids?

Who is going to want me looking like this?

Who else is going to love my baby born, stretch marks?

Are they looking at me?

Are they whispering about me?

Why didn’t they invite me?

Why didn’t they invite my children?

What damage have I done to my girls?

God, I feel so guilty. How will I provide them with all the love and support they’re missing out on not being in a two parent family?

Did my daughter get into trouble at school because I left her dad? Is she lashing out because of me?

Why don’t my friends like my photos?

Are they judging me now, too?

Why aren’t family supporting my decisions?

Surely they understand?

These are just a few of the questions that my wonderful mind spends hours agonising over.

Then…

Insert identity crisis – I’d spent years being Fran the wife, Fran the daughter-in-law,

Fran the mum, but who the hell was Fran? I felt like I had to rediscover myself all over again.

Insert judgement days – I realised no matter what you do, what new things you try, whatever selfie you post, there’s always someone sat there waiting to pounce, to pull you to pieces and criticise you. They have no clue why you’re doing what you’re doing. They have no idea how many hours you spent deliberating over your every step.

Insert the mistakes – I am only human, I will make mistakes, everyone does. I made a ton of them. It’s just a shame others couldn’t admit their mistakes, too. It’s funny how many perfect people there were in my life and it’s even funnier how many friends you truly have (insert sarcasm). I learnt the hard way whom are the good eggs, but the good eggs I have, are keepers for life.

Then…

When the sun begins to rise in the morning, there’s a certain calm that ripples through the mind like an ocean gently washing over the shore, taking with it all the silly, unnecessary worry. And as you drag your weary, tired body from the sheets, you begin to wonder what it is about the night that causes such irrationality. You start to be able to rationalise the thoughts in your head that little bit easier, clearer.

You realise it’s not all doom and gloom because despite the disappointment of those you thought you could trust, you know there’s that one friend. That one friend you can rely on at all hours of the day to be on the other end of the phone, regardless of her plans. She picks you up and slaps you down as and when required. That one friend who understands without even having to explain, but that one friend you know you can’t rely on forever. Also, whether realised or not, that one random text asking how you are means the world. Just the thought that someone took a minute out of their day to think about you, means more than they will probably ever know.

On the outside I probably seemed like I was taking it all in my stride, on the inside, I was dying a slow death. My thoughts were killing me day by day, pinning me down and keep me a prisoner in my own mind. It’s cliché but it’s true – when you’re down on your arse, the only way is up. When you’re staring back at the person in the mirror and you don’t even recognise yourself anymore and what you’ve become, then it’s time to have a serious word with the bastards in your head. It’s time to fight. It’s time to take a leaf out of your kid’s book and focus on the positives. It’s time to trust in a few people and let them in. Slowly, but surely, I started to realise…

I’m healthy.

I have a job.

I have a home.

I have two beautiful little girls.

I have a small group of awesome friends.

I have a big loving family.

With pain comes anger and for a while back there, that’s exactly how I felt; angry and disappointed. It was my decision to leave my marriage. No one said it would be easy, a few said it would be tough but never did I once imagine just how hard it would be. Nothing prepared me for the times I faced.

You find a way to let go of the anger.

You find a way to let go of the hurt.

You find a way to let go of the pain.

You let it go.

You start to live again.

The whole process has taught my MIND many things but one of the most specific is I’ve had to learn is to live without the materialistic things in life. That’s not to say I couldn’t before divorce, it’s just I now have an appreciation for the smaller, understated things – walks in the park, snuggles on the sofa, watching a film with my kids, baking on a Sunday, relaxing in a hot bath, just sitting alone in a quiet room listening to the sound of my calm breath.

I now have a new partner, who accepts my baby stretch marks, who encourages me to be me and not to concern myself with the opinions of others, but most of all, loves my girls just as much as he loves me. There truly are great people out there; you just need to trust and believe in yourself and hope that good things will follow.

2016 – I am grateful to all those who stood by me. I appreciate the things I do have in my life. I have more of an understanding to those who suffer pain, but most importantly, I feel stronger in mind, I am doing well.

#foreverafighter

author bio

Francesca Marlow discovered her love for writing a few years ago when having some role play fun on Twitter with her best mate. They were inspired to create a world of their own which really helped her to channel every day thoughts and emotions, to deal with the daily grind of ‘life’. Never once did she think it would lead to releasing her first novel which she confesses to being one of the proudest moments.

Aside from releasing a novel, two of Francesca’s biggest accomplishment to date is her two little ladies which mean the world to her. She’s a Yorkshire lass and romantic at heart, with an eclectic taste in music and a great love for films; all of which continue to be a source of creativity as well as well deserved relaxation moments. A new found love for the gym has lead to a healthier, happier Fran, so when she’s not being a mum, working, reading or writing, she can be found lifting weights or just generally exhausted in a heap in her snuggle chair.

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorFMarlow

Thank you so much for taking part Fran!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

Posted on February 22, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch · 2 Comments

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #22 – Glenn Haigh

Dedicated to the memory of my friend Deborah Elwood, died 2003, aged 24. A beautiful mind.

I hear it all the time. I’m sick to the back teeth of hearing it. “You’re doing so well, Glenn.” It always feels like I’m around 9 years of age and having my cheeks painfully pulled or my hair annoyingly ruffled by an ancient aunt I haven’t seen for a very long time, and who smells of mothballs.

Maybe ‘sick to the back teeth’ is very unappreciative of me, and a tad on the harsh side. I mean, after all they only care, don’t they? If they didn’t care they wouldn’t say it, would they? Or more to the point, if they didn’t care, they wouldn’t even give me a second thought to be able to make the assessment in the first place.

The thing is I’m not unappreciative, not in the slightest. I’m scared. In fact scrap that. I’m more than that even. I’m utterly petrified, is what I am. I couldn’t be more fearful if I was jumping out of a plane into shark infested waters with T-bone steaks strapped to me. In fact that’s what it feels like when they say it, like I’m free falling from an aircraft towards impending doom. The responsibility of doing well cripples me. I wish I was superman, and then maybe I could carry the compliment on my shoulders as if it were as light as a feather instead of as heavy as a tower block. I’m not superman, though, and I can’t carry it with ease. You see, I was never meant to do this well. How could I have been? My mum was 15 when she fell pregnant. I’m from the wrong sides of the tracks. I have dyslexia. I was bullied at school. All things considered I’m not meant to be the head of an 11-strong teaching team. Surely not?

Middle Management isn’t meant to be my middle name. At least this is what I grew up thinking anyway. Sitting at the back of set 4 English, in my half-mast trousers and with my in-desperate-need-of-a-wash mullet hairdo, I could never have imagined I would reach these dizzy heights. And boy, do I feel dizzy, like all of the time. It’s the panic that does it. The absolute 100% prime beef fear that someone will find me out and kick me back down the ranks to where I belong, to languish in the gutter and have people step over me as they climb to the top. I imagine it will happen one day. The day of doom is inevitable. Everyone gets found out in the end, don’t you watch the soaps? “Aren’t you doing well,” they’ll say. Then there will be the deathly silent pause, where they turn what they have said over in their head. The will latch on, the dots will join. They will gasp in recognition and fly out a finger at me as if readying to shoot me with it. “How did that happen? How could it happen? There’s been a mistake,” they will add, their eyes will narrow in accusation. “You’ve stepped out of rank, boy. Get back to the bottom level this instance,” they will demand.

What would I tell my mum, my sisters and my friends? All those people who have watched me claw my way up to the middle of the management ladder, how disappointed they would be to watch me lose my hold, and see my fingertips slip. Would they be there to break my fall, or would they laugh and say it was about time I was brought down a peg or two?

The thing is my success is good for my bank balance but it’s not good for my mental health. I wake up in cold sweats, forgetting parts of the journey; the sixteen year old who left school with four GCSE’s all grade F. Was there a journey? Did I actually take some alternative qualifications? Did I take my Math’s and English GCSE in sixth form the year before I went to university, like I have said I did on every application I’ve filled out since? Or did I lie? Is it possible to go from F’s to B’s in such a short space of time? What if I lied? Will I be found out? I’ll be ruined.

My mind races and it leaves my sweaty, clammy body behind. I try to catch it but it’s not easy, it runs away like a bolting horse with hoofs pounding the ground. Then I realise. I’m no fraud. I give myself a pep talk. “You’re doing well,” I tell myself. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. You’ve beaten all the odds, fair and square, not dodged and tricked them. I pat myself on the back. I give myself a little clap. I bow before myself in my full length mirror on the hall wall. Then I vow that the next time they say I’m doing well, I’ll reply with a nod, a smile and a, “Thank you.” I definitely won’t say “I know,” though, how rude and arrogant would that be?

author bio

Glenn Haigh lives in Leeds where he was born in 1978.

As a teenager he struggled at school with undiagnosed learning difficulties that led to him to be perceived as being unable and unwilling to learn. Adding to his struggles was the fact he was ‘different’ to other boys. In 1994 he left school with four below par GCSEs.

Three years later, having refused to give up on himself, he had achieved the qualifications needed for him to go to university where he gained a 2:1 degree. For five years after this he enjoyed losing himself in the tourism industry spending much of this time overseas.

In 2006 he qualified as a secondary school teacher and has been teaching ever since. He’s immensely proud to have been able to help many young people secure places at university- some that in his day would have been considered of non-university caliber just like him.

Thank you so much for taking part Glenn!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

giveaway

12674482_10156463296100357_1172465294_n <<<<<Glenn is giving away a signed paperback of this book. All you have to do is visit his Facebook Page here, give it a like and post on his wall “Sarah sent me”. Good luck!

Posted on February 16, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #16 – Alexandra North

They say I’m doing well…

Am I? Really?

The pain consumes me, ravishing my weary body.

Will it ever end? Will I ever sleep?

Twisting, shooting, stabbing, gripping.

A never-ending cycle soothed by a myriad of pills and heat.

Cool water washes the tablets down and

I curl up tight, consoling my aching curves.

Unwelcome drowsiness, finally takes effect.

The warm medicinal blanket soothes my severed nerves.

They say I’m doing well … managing this illness,

But they don’t see me at dawn, in agony and pain.

They say I’m doing fine… being positive about my progress.

I’m trying very hard – after all, I have a reputation to maintain.

To most I am ‘fine’, for the mask is firmly fixed in place.

The lipstick is on; the cheeks rosy, the bright smile fake.

Only the closest of friends and family know my secret,

the torment I go through, each day I wake, each step I take.

I smile through unshed tears, pain ripping through my body,

as I chat with a colleague, or friend, or my son.

Screaming silently, I nod in all the right places;

Life is as it should be to all.

Another day has passed, another day is done.

My strength makes me proud; I control this illness.

Despair cloaks me in blackness, but positivity lets the light back in.

Those good days I embrace, and I live my life freely,

for when the bad days come, and they will,

I’ll indulge and give in.

They say I am doing well … what do they know?

I’ll be the judge of that, I will say if I am doing well.

Today may be a day where I want to scream and yell,

tomorrow one where I’m invincible and not living this hell.

One thing I know, my pain makes me strong.

I won’t let this beat me, this illness of mine.

I’m determined to not lose the person that I am.

The laughter bubbles, despite my ongoing decline.

The support I gain from my family and friends,

helps me fight this condition that may never end.

ALEXANDRA NORTH…

… is an Amazon bestselling author who came onto the writing scene in 2014. She writes romance, with erotic themes, humour, drama and often suspense and there is always a HEA at the end of a book/series.
Ms. North lives in the rambling lush hills of Yorkshire, United Kingdom with her swoon-worthy husband and two children, 15 and 9. She worked as a Graphic Designer & Illustrator, for over 18 years before she wrote her first book and now combines design and writing in this new path when creating her book covers and teasers.
Writing was always a hobby and took a back seat to University, work, parenthood and unfortunately later, chronic long-term illness. One day she woke and thought ‘life’s too short – I’m going to finish that blummin book!’ She now devotes her time to writing love stories full of humour and naughtiness. When she isn’t manically typing away or trying to be the model wife and mum, Alexandra can be found shoe shopping (shoes are her weakness), cosying up with back-to-back TV series and enjoying her very own Sebastian Silver.

Find her at the following social media sites;

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alexandranorthauthor
Twitter: @alexnorthbooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/alexnorthbooks
http://www.alexandranorth.co.uk

Thank you so much for taking part Alexandra!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

Posted on February 15, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #15 – Amelia J Hunter

They say I’m doing well. I’ve heard them talk in the corridors, discussing the meetings. If I practise what I have been taught, I’ll get through this with the tablets they suggest.

I’ll survive.

I’m not sure they really understand how I’ve been feeling, or if they are listening to the words I’m not saying. The times I hold my breath before I answer. Do they realise I’m using that time to think of a reason for what I need to say to satisfy their questions? To please them so they think they are achieving a good outcome from our limited time together?

Sometimes when I hear the pen tapping on the notebook I think I have been found out. My excuses have been seen through but nothing is said and another appointment is made, my cover-up worked.

The million-dollar question is when. When did it all begin, the cold sweats, the panic in my chest, the need to leave a room as soon as I enter, the thoughts in the pit of my stomach. But I don’t know. I’ve explained my past, about my insecurities in my youth, but nothing pin points the exact moment because there isn’t one. It’s manageable they have told me, it will pass, I must learn to control it. I’ve tried, oh my god have I tried, but the feelings that I can’t explain creep in before I can contain them.

I hoped after the first few years, after it started, that the pain would dull, but instead I’ve learnt to disguise the anguish.

Which has led me here tonight.

I hope when you read this, a new life can begin and this moment will be a distant memory. I hope I am not a horrible memory and one you can forgive, someone you can learn from when you think there is no one who understands what you are going through.

I wanted to write to you on parchment paper with a black fountain pen. The words seem to flow better when the ink glides over the grooved paper. It stops me thinking if what I am writing is my true inner feelings or not. I don’t have time to pause, you will see, if I do the ink leaves a blob. I don’t want that, I want to write what I need to say in one sitting, no smudges, no errors.

I wanted to let you know that no matter how bad you feel, no matter how bad your day is, it can not get any worse, things pass. Time passes. That feeling you are having will pass and move on to another.

I’ve learnt that the future can not frighten you when you aren’t in it.

The past cannot be changed, and the present moves on to the future.

But I’m too late now to take that all on board. I wish someone had this letter for me when I was at my lowest and then maybe, just maybe I would be learning to cope better instead of fading away.

Writing this to you I hope will make it easier, I hope what I have gone through will give you strength and I hope you don’t make the same mistake I did when I thought I couldn’t go on. The mess I’ve left behind is worse than my darkest day.

I thought I could cope, I thought I could control the urges that overwhelmed me. But, but they consumed me, smothered me until they choked me.

I stopped asking for help.

I stopped looking for solutions.

I stopped dreaming of a future.

I stopped crying that day and everyone around me started.

I could hear my family saying over and over how well I was doing. I wanted to scream you didn’t see me in the early hours but I no longer had a voice.

You have a voice though; you have a choice and never forget you have amazing help out there that wasn’t around in my day.

I’m leaving this letter, neatly folded, on your pillow while you are sleeping. It’s the best time for me to move around without being noticed. When you wake in the early hours, like I’ve seen you do, I hope my words will comfort you and give you the encouragement to reach out for the guidance waiting for you.

You are not alone.

You never were.

Amelia J Hunter is an indie writer who likes to take her reader on a journey through her erotic writing and her contemporary romance novels.

Leaving the bright lights of London behind in the early 90’s, she now lives in the Irish countryside with her family, a good coffee maker and plenty of talk.

Amelia is a sociable writer who loves to hear from readers, writers and anyone that makes her smile and enjoys her ramblings.

Amelia has a blog where you can read short stories created just for that page, book updates, events and even audios of her work. Amelia’s blog can be found at http://www.ameliajhunter.blogspot.ie

Twitter at @ameliajhunter1
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/pages/Amelia-J-Hunter-Author
or email at ameliajhunter1@gmail.com

Thank you so much for taking part Amelia!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

Posted on February 5, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch · 2 Comments

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #5 – Andie M Long

I’m more than happy to tell you about my own anxiety and depression. If this story helps even one person then that’s great.

When I was twenty-one I moved into my first house (just me) and one week later I went abroad with my boyfriend. While there I had a couple of episodes of what we attributed to ‘too much sun.’ I was shaking and felt sick and had to go back to the apartment on two occasions. It would be three years before these were diagnosed as panic attacks.

At twenty-four I felt faint while on the bus. I got off in Sheffield City Centre and banged on the doors of Yorkshire Bank. I knew they had closed to customers but I also knew my sister was behind that door. We caught a taxi back to my house, thinking I had a virus. That virus lasted three years. During these three years I would be diagnosed with ME and struggle to keep my job. I lived on my own and yet relied on my boyfriend, sister and parents to get me to the places I needed to be. During that time I became obsessed with gardening, the only means of escape I had from my four walls. Unfortunately I had bad neighbours at either side. At one side a man who would get drunk and smack his wife every Friday night, the other, a Schizophrenic. Three doors down another man with mental health problems. I came home one day and the kids of wife-beater had gone into my garden and ripped all the heads off my flowers. They couldn’t see the problem.

I worked at the local psychiatric unit in Admin. I therefore knew when my next door neighbour was admitted and what he’d been admitted for. The previous night I’d told Den I could smell burning. He told me I was being stupid. I snuck a read of his case notes . He had tried to set his bedroom on fire. That bedroom adjoined mine. He’d abscond from the ward and return home. I’d hear tunnelling noises near the cellar and he’d shout through the walls that he was going to kill my cats. He tried to set some of my plants on fire. When he eventually was rehomed, the water services said he had indeed been digging towards my cellar and had just missed vital pipework.

One night the man a few doors down started his usual behaviour; playing the same song on repeat, extremely loudly, for hours and hours. This is the point I would say that I had a complete nervous breakdown. I rang my parents in tears saying I couldn’t cope any more. They took me to their house and I spent the night in a quiet bedroom, no doubt worrying them to death, but saying I couldn’t cope any more.

I was lucky. My mum got me an appointment at my G.P. surgery. It was a new G.P. One who listened and said I needed to try anti-depressants. I’d had one attempt before and the side effects had been too weird and severe. I’d only taken one. This G.P. took time to reassure me and told me that I could feel really sick for two weeks, but to think of it like flu and that in a couple of weeks I’d feel better.

The tablets made me vomit profusely for three days. They altered my pupils and made me look like I had a mad stare for two days. I made light of it but I know my family was worried. I started to feel less sick and more, well, normal. Just over a fortnight later I sat up in bed on a nice morning and asked Den if he’d take me to a garden centre. You have no idea how much of a shock this was. I’d barely left my house in three years.

I was re-diagnosed. I’d not had ME, I’d had limiting panic attacks and depression. That G.P. spent months with me on and off, showing me some behavioural therapy, such as spinning me in a chair to reassure me that although I’d get dizzy it would wear off. Without her I don’t know how I would have ended up to be honest. My body when it gets low truly makes me feel I can’t get to the end of the road. That I’m sick and exhausted. I know this because under the direction of new G.P.s I reduced and came off my medicine twice more.

The second time I became depressed and agoraphobic. I could only walk around my street. It would wear me out. Then I could only get to the post box. Then the top of the drive. When my father broke down in tears in front of me I knew I needed medication again. My father, the stocky, hard as nails, Police Sergeant. This couldn’t go on.

The third time my depression hit after I’d had a period of severe anaemia and flu. It was the worst bout I’d ever had. I’d sit in the car and wonder what would happen if I put my foot down and pranged the car in front. I didn’t want to kill myself. I just wanted to feel something. My medicines had to be increased this time, as the bout was so bad. I’d only taken a low dose on my second episode, as it was primarily anxiety and 10mg did the job. This time I needed the standard dose of 20mg. I was warned it could make me feel worse. I kept a diary of the side effects so I knew how bad they made me feel throughout this time. That diary is heartbreaking to read. Knowing how low I got and felt during that time. The increase in tablets gave me twenty-four hours where I had to tell Den I felt unsafe and to keep an eye on me. There was broken glass on the ground and I wondered how it would feel if I cut my arm. I thought about sitting on my window sill upstairs. Stupid things. Again, they were never full suicidal thoughts, just ridiculous ones that came into my mind all connected with the fact I was just so damn numb.

It passed and I improved. That was four years ago. I remain on the medication and I don’t intend to ever come off it. Maybe in time there will be improved medicines to change to. I say often, diabetics aren’t expected to stop insulin, why are depressed people taken off their tablets? If it’s situational depression and the stressor is eliminated yes, but for long term sufferers of anxiety and depression, no. I expected a fight on review with my current G.P., a no-nonsense character. He surprised me, ‘sounds sensible.’

I have low days, but I don’t attribute these to my depression. We all have low, crap days. I still have the occasional panic attack but I breathe steady and try to let it pass. I don’t hide my anxiety and depression and because of this I can tell my friends if I’m having a wobble.

If you haven’t tried medicine and I know many people are reluctant, I hope this gives you the confidence you need to ask for it. Yes you may feel at first as if you’re losing your mind even more. Afterwards you might just find you have your life back. I’m glad that my anxiety and depression are not restricting me so much these days and I can be the fab mother, partner, family member and friend I desire to be. If your health practitioners are unsympathetic, find another who is. The only thing I’ve really been left with out of all this, is I hate to feel out of control, because it reminds me too much of my illness. That’s why I rarely drink and why sometimes I escape back to my hotel room while others dance for hours. In Peterborough in March at my first book signing after party, although I still only had one drink, I did dance all night. It was the first time in years I felt I had properly let go and been myself.

I hope my story has given hope or reassurance to others. You wouldn’t know I had all this going on to look at me. In fact the thing people say to me most when I tell them I’m on anti-depressants, ‘But you’re always smiling.’ That’s right, because my anxiety and depression are currently well controlled and for that reason I’ll smile every single minute.

Update:

Recently I suffered from labyrinthitis/benign positional vertigo for a number of weeks. The feeling of permanent dizziness started to lead to increased staying at home. I was aware of going downhill, with mood and feelings of agoraphobia and panic when I tried to go out. I set myself the challenge of going a little further each day and managed to get back on my feet. My family were ecstatic as they’d seen I was wavering.

They say I’m doing well. What no-one sees is the inner struggle I go through every day to appear that way.

Author of The Alpha Series: The Alphabet Game, The Calendar Game and The Alphabet Wedding, plus Underneath and Quickies. She writes books in different genres so be sure to check them out!

Andie is a mum of one from Sheffield, UK, who desperately tries to juggle the day job, motherhood, writing, gardening and her other obsessions. She has a long suffering partner.

Thank you so much for taking part Andie!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

Andie is giving away an ecopy of her yet-to-be released romantic/comedy novella Balls! All you have to do is comment on this post with your ball(sy) reason as to why Andie should pick you as her winner!

Good luck!!

Andie on Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndieMichelle

Andie on FB: https://www.facebook.com/andiemlongwriter

Posted on February 1, 2016February 28, 2016 by sarahmichellelynch · 1 Comment

“They Say I’m Doing Well” Blog Tour – Stop #1 – Grace Harper

“That bloody woman has done it again,” Ruby spat out as she dug deep in the coffee jar with her spoon. She lifted out a heaped spoonful and threw the coffee granules and the spoon into her giant sized mug. “Why does she have to look at me like I’m an alien from another world? Yesterday, I asked a simple question, I was clear and used simple words, but she said I don’t understand, can you say that again. I swear one day I’ll pour my coffee all over her head.” Ruby had poured hot water into her mug from the urn in the corner of the tiny kitchen. Turning, she threw the metal spoon into the metal sink from four feet away. The loud clatter as it landed made Hailey jump. Hailey could see both sides of the issue. It didn’t bother her, that Verity wanted clarification on some things that were asked of her. Hailey happily repeated anything that Verity wanted to hear again. For an intelligent, accomplished woman, Hailey wasn’t quite sure why Verity stared blankly at Ruby but she put it down to her need to get things correct first time. Hailey could also understand Ruby’s frustration, she was a busy person and didn’t have time for repeating any instructions.

“Hailey, I think it’s time to speak to the boss again about Verity, he needs to know about her incompetence, I just can’t cope with it anymore.” Ruby took a hasty sip of her coffee and bit her tongue, this was immediately followed by a string of expletives that would make a sailor proud.

“Everyone has their individual issues, she hasn’t actually done anything wrong and she’s excellent at her job. You need to relax a bit and take it in your stride.”

Yesterday was a stressful day for Verity, she was at her most confused. After dressing for work, she stood in the hallway and looked at her husband, Stuart. She couldn’t remember his name, so she called him darling as she kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day. On the way to work, getting on the bus, she couldn’t remember the name of the bus stop she needed to get off at and it took a long time to ask the driver for the correct destination. The tutting and huffing from the passengers behind her in the queue didn’t help her concentration to remember the stop’s name. Sitting at her desk the next day, Verity shrunk back in her seat when she saw Ruby coming towards her. She knew what was going to happen next.

Surreptitiously, Ruby sidled up to Verity and cleared her throat. “Arnold wants to see you, now Verity.” Ruby said loud enough or the whole floor to hear.

Allowing the words to sink in, Verity pushed away from her desk and collected her handbag. The two dozen other office workers were all staring in her direction. She shrank a little into her clothes and reached the door. She blinked a couple of times and turned back to Ruby. She had already forgotten which floor she had to go to but daren’t ask Ruby again. She pressed the metal button next to the door to release the lock, trying to remember. Instinctively she climbed the stairs to the top floor and remembered where she needed to go. Verity contemplated what she would say to the boss. Her anger was building at being sent to a modern day headmaster’s office by the classroom bully. Verity was fully aware that she was forgetful, she tried memory games to improve her capabilities. She wrote as much down as possible, she just forgot to look at the piece of paper. Often, Verity wouldn’t remember that there was a note to refer to.

Yawning and holding onto the rail, it was at the fourth-floor level that she’d wished she’d taken the lift. Her desk was on the second floor and Verity had already tripped twice. She swore that the steps were getting smaller as she climbed the floors.

Into the boss’ office Verity walked while knocking on the door, Arnold was sitting at his desk, which had reams and reams of paper stacked in neat piles. His warm smile eased her anger and she took a seat at the conference room table he invited her to sit at. There was a row of pens lined up in front of her and she neatened them while she waited for him to join her.

Arnold was holding a single sheet of paper and placed it flat on the table as he sat. “Will you pass me the black pen?”

Mute, Verity stared at the set of pens and struggled to work out which one of them were black so she picked up all four and handed them to Arnold.

“Doing better,” he said, “thank you.” Arnold took the pens and smiled. “You asked me when I hired you to let you go when things were becoming noticeable. I’ve had three separate complaints from Ruby, she thinks you’re a pain in the arse and don’t listen, but I know differently.”

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have been so lenient, but she was different. He was going to look after her. He pushed the piece of paper over to her side of the table and turned it over. “I am going to make you redundant, that way you will have a financial package to fall back on while you’re looking for your next role.”

It wasn’t Verity’s usual reaction to these situations but she burst into tears. She’d been working for Arnold’s company for six years, whereas Ruby had only worked there for six months. “I’m grateful Uncle Arnold, I know I’m getting worse and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Now, I wish I could offer you home working but it would mean I would have to offer it to all the staff and that’s something that financially the company couldn’t afford to do. When is your next assessment?”

“Going back to the hospital next week, I don’t expect that it will be good news, but at least they’re taking me seriously. They think I’m doing well, but I’m not so sure.”

“Why would you say that? You’re doing so much better, we’ll just have to find another way for you to adapt. It’s not often you hear about a woman in her thirties suffering from dementia.”

“Every day is a struggle,” she looked around the room, itching to leave. “I’d better be going, Stuart will start to worry if I’m home late.”

“Love, I think you’ll be ok for a while, it’s only 10am. Go on home, spend the day watching movies and eating junk food. You enjoyed the lemon tart you had last week at our place.”

“Lemon tart, really? Did I?” Verity allowed Arnold to escort her from his office, holding her elbow as they entered the lift. He was going to take her back to her desk and drive her home. The last thing he wanted was for her to get lost again.

Grace Harper is a British author who loves to write about strong women and the friends and lovers who make them stronger. She adores writing steamy scenes of first encounters and there is always a little twist along the way.

When Grace is not writing, she can be found mooching about in stationery stores, dreaming up tattoo designs or teasing her friends until everyone is in fits of giggles. Grace might have a Maltesers addiction but is not ready to stand up and own that just yet.

If you want to get in touch, please do, Grace is pretty laid back and friendly.

http://author.to/graceharper

Thank you so much for taking part Grace!

To see the full list of authors taking part in this month-long blog tour, [click here]

To find out what “They Say I’m Doing Well” is all about, [click here]

Grace is giving away a paperback copy of CHARMING OLIVIA. To be in with a chance of winning, follow this link to sign up for Grace’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/5-eXX

**Competition open internationally and a winner will be picked at random**

Posted on December 21, 2015 by sarahmichellelynch

The Journey Here

As another writing year draws to a close, I better put some words down while I still have chance, so here’s what I’ve learned this year . . .

Having been writing religiously for four years now, I can confidently acknowledge that the writer’s journey is never smooth and the true writer doesn’t always write what’s right, either. They write what’s in their heart at the moment, what’s true and good to them at a certain point in time. So when I look back on my work up until now, it’s clear some of my words have become alien to me, because I’ve moved on. Some of my stuff still feels very raw, and other things I’ve become so much less precious about.

They say first-time writers should write the book they want to read if they want to get a book deal. I say, PAH! Sometimes starting out writing at all is a feat so whatever idea you’ve got, go with it. Also, not all of us are out for a so-called book deal. (Incidentally, many deals that publishers offer you are not pro-writer.) I’ve spoken to many a fellow writer, so I know there are good deals and bad ones out there, and it’s when you get a good one that you cling on. Seriously – I’ve heard about lost royalties, not being able to publish future books until being out of your current contract – and worse – having no say when it comes to your cover and content. Some publishers have ripped the heart from books and left them soulless.

This year I’ve gone from virtually being a full-time mum to now being a full-time writer and editor. When I say full-time, I don’t mean 9-5. I work hours most people could not imagine suffering through, but the truth is, I never suffer, because I love it. Full days of writing (in between editing jobs) has transformed my routine, my work ethic, my writing. Being able to write a book straight has improved the whole experience tenfold. I have always had a game plan and I’m getting closer to the fruition of this plan all the time. I’ve been biding my time and it’s my firm belief that time is not your enemy, but your one, true friend if you utilise it properly. I know how much I love writing therefore I know I’m good, because it’s not painful for me – this writing thing – it’s getting easy now. I liken it to physical training and the more practise you put in, the more you naturally get right first time, without all those hundreds of redrafts. The more positive feedback you get, the more your confidence grows too. Nonetheless, the most devastating thing for me would be if I were to become a one-hit wonder, forever leaning on that for future successes. Thankfully a lot of creative people around me have recognised and congratulated me on building a foundation rather than writing a one-trick pony to appeal to the masses. I am a writer. I want to be a writer forever.

A lot of people have come and gone from my life since I started out writing. The main reason for this is that a lot of people say they want to work with me but don’t show the same dedication and commitment I’ve got. Which doesn’t really work for me. Some people seem to think that the publishing world is a game to play whereas I very much feel like it’s a starting stone to self-fulfilment.

I realised this self-fulfilment thing means Sarah Michelle doesn’t write books to pretty something up. I write to provoke and challenge.

So, to clear up this year and what I’ve learned, here’s the spaghetti in a more orderly manner:-

1) Some people think good writing is plot twists, crash, bangs and wallops. Literally, sticking as many big OMGs in one book and letting the audience digest it all at the rate of 50 miles a second. There’s some really great commercial fiction out there and I hold my hands up to the authors who master it. But walloping fiction isn’t the be all and end all. Some of us start out feeling like good books MUST have shocks galore in order for them to be good. NOT TRUE. Sure, a page turner must hook the reader at the end of every chapter, but other readers are just as happy to sit back and relax, too.

2) I’ve had to come to terms with stuff I don’t like in books. Personally I cannot write what I don’t believe is possible/and or true, so I will never write characters that are weak but somehow end up getting everything they want. I don’t believe beautiful language can excuse a murderer their sins. I despise cliche. I don’t think even the most beautiful poetry or prose can hide flawed structure in a book. Likewise heroines with no gumption have no chance getting airtime in one of my books, whether under my pseudonym or my real name! (YES I HAVE A PSEUDONYM AND YOU WILL NEVER KNOW SHE/HE IS ME.) Sarah Michelle doesn’t exactly write what you would call Book Boyfriend books, either. My stories mainly centre around mysteries and psychological issues so the Boyfriend is just one element of the bigger picture. Personally, when I used to read as a kid, I read for enlightenment, and to gain knowledge. That’s not changed. I like to be challenged by a book but also require some basis in reality. I can’t read nice little heart-warming reads myself, but for someone else, I can write them if I am really in the mood.

3) A good enough writer can write about real life and make it a fantastic story, too. A lot of friends over the years have often accused me of pulling their leg with some of the things I’ve seen and done but I don’t tell lies and I have seen and done some crazy shit, which is probably why I can write the stories I do! I got told years and years ago that words aren’t enough. You have to live before you can be a writer. I took that onboard, trust me. For instance, I know a real-life chambermaid. I know a girl who lost her mother young. Myself and Chloe Matthews could be twins.

4) Less is more. But this is the hardest writerly lesson you will ever learn. Less means you have to put faith in your audience that they will read between the lines. Less means you have to give over control to someone else!! EEEPPP! NO!!! I hear so many writers scream. This is so subjective because readers vary as widely as writers do. Some readers love details, others just cannot be bothered and like a bit of wham, bam, thank you ma’am.

5) Sometimes a story just comes to you which is a gift. Angel Avenue and its sequel, Beyond Angel Avenue, are tales gifted to me from some place in the stratosphere – either that – or my subconscious instructed me because my consciousness refuses to admit I am soppy at heart!! HA-HA! (Yes, all writers are crazy.) So, these are tales I would call fantastical, sometimes even whimsical, but still rooted deep in reality. They are the stories I wrote without even breaking a sweat and they are the stories I feel most engaged with. My husband read these and continually laughed and got frustrated with Jules and Warrick, murmuring helplessly, “They’re just such strong characters.” Suspension of disbelief with these books IS A MUST but they are so plausible, too. The ANGEL AVENUE series – overall – is a testament to the power of the human mind and how it protects and preserves itself. Sometimes, among the canon of your work, you produce something universal and engaging not because you made the choice to write a book that is marketable or profitable or fits a current trend – but because it’s real and relatable and the idea for the book wouldn’t cease until you had it out there on a page. Writing has its ups and downs but the downs can sometimes lead to the mega highs of something like these two books – which I wrote not for myself – but the heroes and heroines out there doing things in their daily lives which they don’t decree as fabulous but which I do. When a reviewer said recently that these characters aren’t charming – they were right – Jules and Warrick are real people. Jaded people. But the love they share is what counts.

6) There are deeds you do for others which mean more than deeds you do for yourself.

7) 2016 is going to be interesting. Since my husband started working in marketing, we’ve learned a lot together about what works and what doesn’t. My husband speaks to a social media expert on a daily basis who’s in charge of building the social media platforms of several billion-euro companies. So maybe SML’s pseudonym will be the one-trick pony that allows me – Sarah, the person – to write what makes her heart happy. Because the tricks I’m learning about marketing are enough to make the common consumer cringe. So you might be hearing a lot less from SML and I’ll leave you to ponder what my nom de plume might be.

I love everyone who reads my words. I think you’re all insane, but I love you. I love the people who’ve got to the end of this blog but most of all I love writing and I know I’m unlikely to give it up very soon.

Please do check out Angel Avenue and Beyond Angel Avenue, my most recent AND BEST novel yet. I can sing my way through these last few days of the year because I’m so fulfilled and so pleasantly surprised with how the journey has so far turned out.

Beyond Angel Avenue is out tomorrow.

Have a magical Christmas and a wonderful new year.

Sarah x

2015’s books:

http://mybook.to/unfurl

http://getbook.at/fabien2

Posted on December 15, 2015December 15, 2015 by sarahmichellelynch

#TeaserTuesday and Some New Reviews…

A series about real issues, with a little bit of mystery, intrigue, shock and delight all thrown into the mix…

Some recent reviews of Angel Avenue:

Compelling read:

I found this book compelling, I wanted to read more about the intricacies of the main characters lives. The detail to attention is amazing and I really could picture the area and characters.

Jules and Warrick are both complex people with troubled pasts, a chance meeting could be the saviour of them both or it could spell disaster.

This story is about heartbreak and loss, the need for human connection and physical closeness. It’s a beautiful story.

Jules has not had an easy life but she is surviving and getting on with her life, the love and loss of a man leaves her broken and she finds herself spending her Saturdays searching and craving for some physical contact, just a hug will do. Warrick spots Jules and watches her every Saturday and finally decides to see if she is ok? A friendship develops that has the potential to go further but both of their pasts and secrets hold these two back. The story takes twists that you wouldn’t expect but it flows so well.

I’m looking forward to reading Beyond Angel Avenue and where the author will take the story of Jules and Warrick.

I Loved This Book:

I loved this book. A love story that took a slow meandering path with a few unexpected twists and turns that left me wanting to shout at the author. I enjoyed the way the characters got to know each other’s flaws…..Warts and all.

I Was Personally Touched:

Lets see where exactly to begin. It would be easier to tell you what I will not say…like tell you about the characters and what happens. Hey! That takes all the fun out of you reading the book right? Right!

I will suggest you have a box of tissues near by, you may find you need them. Just sayin’.

I really want to thank Book Bub for letting me know about bargains available from Amazon. The choices certainly have allowed me to learn about authors I would not have known. Kinda reminds me of the days of going through the bargain books at different stores. Just to see and always walking away with at least four books. Sorry got a little side tracked here but it was because of this that I learned of this book.

Yes it is a romance novel but no where near what you would think one would be like. This was more like the slice of two people’s lives that come together that are really great for each other but they have so many wounds and ghosts some of them causes a lot of pain and time to work through.

We all have some of these skeletons in our closets some we have buried so deep we think that we have dealt with them but in actuality we have not. For me the story struck close to home, sometimes too close. But there is also a cleansing that can happen as well.

I feel the Sarah has taken some very tough issues and worked them through her characters that not only brought them to life but made them a part of me In my humble opinion, it would be difficult for one to walk away from this book and not be changed from it.

Released one week from today, Beyond Angel Avenue:

View the early reviews…

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/27477733-beyond-angel-avenue

I was lucky enough to read this book straight after Angel Avenue, I’m so glad the author decided to conclude the story. There was so much more depth to these characters than I first thought. I loved the first book but this just blew me away.
The story follows on directly from Angel Avenue and we see how Jules and Warrick deal with the next chapter of their life. However the ghosts from their pasts are still haunting them and in order to find closure they have to take some risks that might make or break them. They are dragged into situations that puts their life in danger and have no idea who they can trust.
The continuing story of Warrick and Jules is beautifully told. I was gripped and compelled by the story and the characters. A truly amazing series that will stay with me forever.

Buy Angel Avenue:

Pre-order Beyond Angel Avenue:

Posted on November 5, 2015 by sarahmichellelynch

The Editing Arm of Sarah Michelle Lynch

An editing arm has been added to “Sarah Michelle Lynch”, click right here to find out more. It’s all simply explained but my email address is there if you have any questions/queries. I’m not accepting any more projects this year, but I do have openings for early 2016.

I got asked the other day, “Wouldn’t you rather just write all the time and forget editing?” I guess I sometimes ask myself that, too, but my answer was, “No!” In fact my long-term goal is to embrace a bunch of writers under my wings (so to speak) and build something a little bigger than an editing business.

The thing is, just sitting down to write, write, write is too much pressure. Besides, isn’t editing just getting paid to read (that thing most if not all writers love?). Obviously, editing involves much more than just reading…

A few writers read UNBIND, the first book in the Sub Rosa Series and were so impressed, they contacted me, asking if I would edit their books. It’s crazy because that isn’t even the most tightly edited novel I’ve written, the next ones are…! I guess that just proves how each book is a learning curve and each book has its own beating heart to try and train and/or maintain.

What I’m working on right now is an anthology a writing group sent me. I’m proofreading it which makes a nice change for me. Normally I “deep edit” books which means considering how the whole thing can be tightened up. So proofing is a holiday, in comparison.

One of the books I just finished working on is Where Did Your Heart Go? by Audrina Lane. A self-published novel with an existing audience/fanbase is something I’d never worked on before. I worked to maintain the essence of the book, keeping the most pivotal scenes/lines intact, while also reshaping Audrina’s words without cutting their personality away. It was a unique book with diaries/first/third person – but in some respects I think that’s why some people choose to self-pub – because you can go outside the box and break the rules a little. Live a little, if you like. Now I’m seeing selfies of people holding her first print run of that very book and I see the smiles on her face and those of her readers. So, no, I don’t hesitate when people ask, “Wouldn’t you just rather write?” NAH! Because then I wouldn’t appreciate it when I do get to write. I might complain about the balancing act sometimes but as a good friend said to me the other day, “Don’t lie, you love your life.”

Yes, just a bit.

12187917_421193514746192_1090420413749796111_n — Happy author Audrina Lane!!

Posted on November 2, 2015 by sarahmichellelynch

Revealing my 11th novel, Beyond Angel Avenue . . .

Last week, I finished my edits on this book, Beyond Angel Avenue. I have been very secretive about it and only my husband has known I’ve been writing this book. He told me not to write this book but I went against him because I HAD TO WRITE THIS BOOK. I held off on this book until it was impossible to ignore and for the best part of this year, I have been writing it in the back of my head.

For readers already familiar with Angel Avenue – yes, you’d be right – this book is a sequel. In fact, I never thought I would write this book. To explain more, here is a note I’ve inserted at the beginning of the book which explains everything…

Dear Reader,

I wrote Angel Avenue two years ago and never, ever intended on writing this sequel. The first book was such a hard novel to get over and I suppose, in a way, that might have been because there was still more to tell. For the past year, I’ve had Warrick whispering in my ear, telling me a brand, new story – which also clears up some of the mysteries of Angel Avenue. I wrestled with whether I should tell this story because Angel Avenue is so special to me and I didn’t want to ruin that with a sequel that just didn’t measure up.

I have loved every, single second of writing these books. I’ve written many books but these ones mean so much to me and I can’t even tell you why. The story is based where I live and is imbued with the love I feel for the city I met and married my husband in. I’ve tried not to waste too many words on location because I like to think this story could happen in any town or city, in any country.

What I can honestly say is that this is “The End”. I knew it for a certainty the day I typed those words at the very end of this book. That day, a very red-eyed mother went to pick up her daughter from school, knowing Beyond Angel Avenue is the underscore of this particular chapter in my writing life. When I wrote Angel Avenue, it was one of the happiest writing experiences of my life. It was a lot of fun to write. However, Beyond Angel Avenue is a different beast and delves one layer deeper. I cried absolute buckets writing this second book.

****

What I want to add to this is that Beyond Angel Avenue delves into some issues very personal to people in my life. In due course, I will be uploading the book to Amazon for pre-order complete with full synopsis.

N.B. Angel Avenue and Beyond Angel Avenue will retain these covers for the eBooks but the paperbacks will now have artistic wraparound covers instead and I’ll be revealing these in the coming weeks too.

All that is left for me to stay is stay tuned. Beyond Angel Avenue tells the story of Jules and Warrick as they navigate married, family life together. But as with many of my books, nothing is what it seems, and life throws them a curveball I never saw coming either.

COMING DECEMBER 22ND…

VISIT AMAZON TO FIND OUT MORE ABOUT ANGEL AVENUE…

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Dedicated to the memory of my friend Deborah Elwood, died 2003, aged 24. A beautiful mind.

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Some recent reviews of Angel Avenue:

Released one week from today, Beyond Angel Avenue:

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