You the Creator

Algie and his device

Algie and his device

Four or five years back, when I wrote that book about Life, I called the final section Creativity and Creation.  It began thus:

What have you made lately – a model; a cake; a piece of furniture; dinner; a mess…?  I’ll bet you’ve done quite a bit of creating over the last week or so.  And how did you do it?  You got some stuff; you changed it in some way – maybe shaping or cutting, heating or cooling; you probably mixed it with, or joined it to other stuff and carried on changing or modifying it until your creation was complete.

OK, so you might be protesting that all you did was take a ready-meal out of the freezer, pierce the film lid and put it in the microwave, but you still created a hot, steaming meal out of a frozen lump.  You created something by changing stuff.  Hold that idea.  Hold it nice and tight.

I knew – at an intuitive, rather than an intellectual level – that creating ‘stuff’ was important.  Not just important, but vital.  I also knew that it didn’t actually matter what you were creating.  It could be a painting or a compost heap, a symphony or an ad on eBay.  It was the creative process that mattered.

Thimble sized machines

Thimble sized machines

That idea came back to me a few weeks ago, when I was engaged in my latest hobby – creating  miniature Steam Punk characters and their equipment from up-cycled dolls’ house dolls, wire, watch parts and the like.

Bella: 6 inches/15 cm tall

It takes ages.  I completely lose myself in the process and come as close to absolute happiness and satisfaction as is possible when I hit technical problems and find ingenious ways to overcome them.  There’s a kind of excitement bubbling up inside me as the transformations take place.  Yet that’s been tempered by a mocking voice from my rational mind:

“Why waste so much time on something this pointless?  What use are they?  Shouldn’t I be putting my energy into something more ‘worthy’?”

Amelia - before and after

Amelia – before and after

Lars

Lars

So the internal dialogue has been going.  I can’t deny the rational thoughts.  No one needs a 1/12 scale Steam Punk figure.  Yet at some very deep level I have known that the process of creating them – battling with the limitations of the materials and my skills – is hugely important to me.  I have felt the same as I did when renovating my dilapidated cottage – an initial mental image of how I want the finished product to look, a moment of doubt when I compared that idea to the reality of the items strewn around me, an intense fixation on the eventual result, an unshakeable belief that it would all work out perfectly and – finally – jubilation at having created the end product.

Henry: yes, they're very small

Henry: yes, they’re very small

It needed a mind and voice more finely tuned than my own to put the importance of ‘You the Creator’ into its true perspective.  I found these words in The Afterdeath Journal of an American Philosopher:

It is the tension between the search for fulfilment or perfection and the actual performance possible in the physical world that promotes creative acts as they are understood.  For true creativity always destroys limitations and increases the mental, spiritual, psychic or physical areas of expression open to man.

That’s it.  It applies as much to the time warping experiments I’m engaged in with William to the little figures I’m building in my study.  It applies to every creative process you are engaged in, too.

 

I think therefore I am;  I create, therefore I am The Creator – and so are you.

 

The Back Door

20161002_103854_resizedThere was only one way in or out of my cottage when I bought it – the huge, ancient black wooden door that opens from the street into a shared hallway.  At the end are separate doors leading to my home and the one adjoining it.  A lane runs along the side of my back garden, but there was no access to it.  I decided I’d feel safer if there was a second way out, just in case…

‘No,’ said the man from the planning office.  Due to its great age and architectural interest, my cottage is Grade 2 listed, which means the planning office can stop me changing anything in the building or the grounds.
‘Boundary fences must be left as they are,’ he told me.  ‘If they break or fall down they must be replaced by identical fence panels.  Any changes would have to be subject to Full Planning Permission.’
He then told me the cost of Full Planning Permission and I went very quiet.

Door, Old, Scrape, Entrance, AntiqueThere are ways around these things.  I asked a skilled craftsman friend to construct me a lockable gate that, from the outside, is completely indistinguishable from a fence panel, but which opens perfectly from the inside.

Why, you may ask, am I prattling on about my invisible back gate?  It’s because of a wonderful analogy I just discovered in the writings of Jane Roberts.

The book has taken weeks to arrive.  I had to order it in from the US, and it was far from cheap.  The title would be enough to put most people off: The Afterdeath Journal of an American Philosopher: The World View of William James.  I had to have it though.

Angel, Wings, Feather, HeavenYou see, I trust Jane Roberts.  I’ve been to so many talks and workshops where channels stand at the front in long, wafty, pastel-coloured frocks and proclaim something like, ‘The Angel Ganneril is here with us in the room.  He is pouring his pale mauve energy on to each of you.  He is telling you to hold love in your hearts and to care for the animals.  Feel the tingling down your spine as…’ and so forth.

Fine.  Such people speak their truth and reach many, but they don’t reach me.

Jane Roberts is a very different character; hard-drinking, hard-smoking, hard-bitten and as cynical as you like.  Faced with a new situation (in this case, unexpectedly receiving messages from a famous, but dead philosopher) she does what I’d do.  She files it away and ignores it totally, on the grounds that the whole thing seems way too unlikely.  The messages keep coming and Jane feels increasingly uncomfortable, as they don’t fit her world view and she wishes they’d stop.  Finally, she realises that she’d better find out what is going on, and why.  She interrogates the evidence, chats it through with Robert, her husband and eventually asks Seth for guidance.  Only when she is wholly convinced that her world view needs to expand to incorporate this new information, does she decide to write it up and publish.

So anyway, the gate?

Well, I’d had a long and busy day yesterday.  I arrived home after dark, to find the package containing my new book waiting for me.  I grabbed some food and a cup of tea and flicked through a few pages.  The first section was – intriguingly – called Front-Door People, Back-Door People, and World Views.

Her analogy runs thus:

img_20150415_112830_resizedWe all have a conscious mind – what she calls a ‘house of awareness’.  This ‘house’ has a front door, the one we open to the world for normal business and interaction, the one all messages are supposed to come to.  But – she continues – there is a second door, ‘a secret back door from the time of our childhood’.  This is a ‘magic’ entrance, one that opens to other worlds.  Sometimes we can see it; sometimes it’s invisible.  Jane speaks of the half-sensed messengers who sometimes call there and of the strange packages and papers left waiting there for us to find.

It made me smile, as I thought of my physical sometimes-there-sometimes-invisible back gate and what an apt way that is to describe the place where I can receive strange, magical information that comes to me.

The front door of my ‘house of awareness’ was very busy yesterday, but so too, in its quiet yet insistent way, was the back door.  Just as I have all the information in Jane’s book to read and understand, so I have other, more numinous information which has come to me from other sources to sift through and contemplate.  I’ll settle to that now.

 

Spectral Friends of one kind and another

Banner, Header, Angel, Abstract, BallI’d been looking forward to my one-to-one with Higgins for ages.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with them, Higgins is a group of beings, both physical and non-physical, who answer questions and guide those of us ready to listen through Cheryl, a lovely lady who lives in the north west of the United States.  They chose the name Higgins because it would be easy enough for a child to remember and they wished their messages to be clear enough for a child to understand.

I’ve asked questions on the Ask Higgins blog before and been able to join in group meditations with them, but this was my first opportunity to engage in an individual Q&A session.

I had all my questions prepared, but it was Higgins who brought up the subject of my friend William.  I hadn’t any questions planned concerning him or his work.  I was stunned.  How did they even know about him?  Gently, Higgins explained that they are aware of everything ‘the Entity’ (Cheryl) experiences.  Because she had read Will’s book, they knew all about it, and about him.

Symbol Of Infinity Of AutismWilliam, they told me, and all those on the autistic spectrum, represent an evolutionary step forward.  They are able to connect differently and feel differently to the rest of us.  They are far more sensitive than the rest of us.  All this, they conceded, I already knew.  However many people make the mistake of believing that those on the autistic spectrum have something missing or lacking and treat them accordingly.

They went on to talk more about the special sensitivity of those on the spectrum.  They asked me to consider those most sensitive of all humans, the schizophrenics – people who pick up the thoughts of others so freely, they hear them as actual voices in their heads.  The autistic population has a sensitivity akin to this, which means that although they are not hearing our thoughts as words, they are picking up on the general ideas we project at them and about them.  This can create a density – a kind of fog – around them, making it far harder for them to break through negative expectations and create a good life experience for themselves.  Mixing with the non-harmonious population is difficult for them at the best of times.

Fog, Landscape, Forest, NatureI’d never heard it expressed in those terms, although all they were saying was very familiar to me.  Higgins encourage those of us who connect with the autistic spectrum to keep seeing these people as fully fulfilled.  In this way, our positive thoughts lessen the density they have to move through.  At one point they referred to physical life as ‘wading through molasses’ when compared to the non-physical.  It seems that our friends on the spectrum are somewhere between the two.

IMG_20151205_070812Next Higgins expressed great enthusiasm for the book Will and I had put together (The Words of William Volume One).  They said he used different vocabulary but was giving the same message that they were.  Also, they felt it enabled people who read it to recognise the understanding and knowledge of those on the spectrum, while enabling William to get positive feedback from those who read and appreciate it.  “Keep going!” they said, and encouraged me to work with him on producing Volume Two.

We spoke about the remote viewing William and I have been engaged in for the last year or so.  In this, they said, we are ‘pressing into the future – the unknown’.  By moving our experience on in this way, we are expanding All-That-Is.  They suggested we keep moving forward and explore further, as it is of great benefit.

The Muse Refuses

Blarney Stone, County Cork, Ireland

Blarney Stone, County Cork, Ireland (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Does every writer have a muse?  I like to think so.  There are times when inspiration comes – the drawing in of a breath (that’s what inspiration is, after all)  – and my writing flows with words that come through rather than from me.  He’s called Liam, my muse – of Irish extraction, I believe.  I suspect he’s one of my ancestors on the Celtic side of the family, one who has kissed the Blarney Stone.

If you’re imagining a lovely, jovial gent who sits at my shoulder, muttering ideas in a gentle, lilting, Terry Woganish way, though, forget it.  He can be harsh, uncompromising and – as I discovered this week – utterly ruthless.

It all started when I decided to begin work on the new book:  working title ‘After Life’.

In my sixty-something years, I’ve had perhaps more than my fair share of encounters with people in and around the After Life experience.  By that I mean people who were ‘dying’, bereaved and – in one or two cases – already departed.  I’d written quite extensively about it in various places and from various angles.  All these writings were safely stashed on my computer, in neat little Word files.  So surely, I reasoned, if I loaded all these into a master file, did a bit of editing to bring them together and fiddled around with the style, I’d be well on the way to finishing the book.

Liam, however, was not (forgive me) a-mused.

He started with the gentle mumblings in my ear…

This is old stuff.  You can do better.  Draw on all those experiences, but not the words…

On he nagged, and I wasn’t listening.  Believe me, it doesn’t do to ignore your muse.

On Wednesday, I went to open a document.  A mysterious dialogue box appeared.  I clicked to ignore it and with an insolent ping, Word vanished.  I tried again.  Same box.  This time I tried opening it.  Another ping.  Another blank screen.

My computer skills extend to, ‘If it isn’t doing what you want, turn off, count to 20 and try again.’  I tried that.  Much bigger, scarier dialogue box told me I had a critical error.

I won’t bore you with the range of things that went wrong that afternoon.  Suffice it to say, the machine was finally reduced to a gibbering wreck which, when turned on, insisted I was a ‘guest’ on my own computer and did some pathetic little loop of rebooting a few meaningless files continually until I switched off the power.

Phone call to techie son.  Deep sighs from the other end of the phone line, followed by very calm instructions about what to hold down when and so forth.  Nothing changed.  He gave up eventually and told me to get it fixed.  Or sling it.

Long consultation with lovely Paul-from-the-computer-shop.  He might be able to fix it, he said, but it would mean <lots of long words>.  He’d probably be able to extract most of the files.  It was up to me whether I gave it a try or bought a new computer.

A tiny but rather wonderful thought was beginning to creep into my mind (inspired, of course…)

I’m a hoarder, you see.  Everything I write, I keep.  That poor old machine had every lesson I’d planned for classes and private students, going back a decade or more.  It had more half-written books than I could remember.  It had a mysterious file called ‘thoughts and messages’ and of course, it had all those scattered pieces of writing I’d been trying to cobble together for After Life, lodged with me useless.

English: Oilseed rape crop, near Cerney Wick T...

I crawled off to bed, exhausted, battered, yet wondering.  I was prompted to draw an oracle card – something I barely ever do these days.  Clear Your Space it told me.

Next morning, my head was clear.  I ordered a new computer, disconnected the old one and stowed it behind the sofa.  Yes, I could have taken it down to Paul, to get the files out, but my muse had inspired me.  I would try, I decided, to start from scratch.

So here I am, typing on my new machine with something akin to amnesia.

The book, if it happens, will be written as the muse intended.  May I be truly inspired.

“What’s Important Is The Journeys”

English: Footpath to Workhouse Lane. This is t...

So I have found another new route – my own personal trek through the myriad criss-crossing paths, just to see where they lead me and what I discover along the way.  I’m careful to vary my travels, to avoid retracing my steps.  I bypass the more obvious well-trodden roads, to scramble instead through almost-forgotten overgrown footpaths and bridleways.  I’m careful not to follow any track for too long; I’ll branch off sharply if I find that happening.

Not for me the ramblers’ group.  I’ll happily stop and pass the time of day with those I meet along the way, listen to their wisdom or local knowledge and thank them warmly before heading onwards.  Should anyone offer to guide me, though – to lead me to my destination – I’ll smile politely and decline.  Some of them, I’m sure, have perfectly lovely journeys planned, but this is my trek, no one else’s.

Eriboll - Strath More road - geograph.org.uk -...

Well yes, that’s a metaphor.  Too cold here at the moment to be rambling anywhere.  My journeys take place in this battered old computer chair with a log fire crackling away cheerfully beside me.  I simply want to convey that I choose my own path and am, in the late autumn of my life, content and comfortable to travel it alone.  A handful of people – mostly those who read these ramblings – have some idea of the journey I’m on.  Almost everyone else in my life – all relatives and almost all friends and acquaintances – regard me as strange at best, deranged at worst.  That’s why, to be honest, I left home (in my late fifties) and headed to a place where I would be, if not understood, exactly, at least tolerated.

I’m happy in my own skin.  I’m comfortable writing blogs and books that few will read and still fewer will understand.  I wake up each day knowing I have work to do – ponderings and wonderings and explorations of ideas.  I’m metafizzing with excitement as I find a new quote that fits with a recent thought or see ideas I can recognise and relate to in someone else’s words.  Would I swap all the richness of this life to be normal?  Hell no.

Let me be absolutely clear, here.  I am NOT deriding or criticising people whose lives revolve around celebrity gossip or the storylines of soaps.  That is their path and it’s totally right that they follow it.  Trainspotters and war gamers, Manchester United fans and ballroom dancers, shopaholics  and chocaholics, churchgoers and landscape painters, hypochondriacs and bankers… all of these people and many, many more make our world richer and wider and filled with variety.  I salute them all.

Every single one of us, I believe, has a higher Self – a consciousness more magnificent than we can fathom from this perspective.  In each case, those Selves have carefully chosen a Life to live.  They have elected to become totally engrossed in a human existence in order to try out new experiences, using feelings and emotions they want to develop and expand for the ultimate good of All That Is.  From that perspective, no one is worthier or stranger than anyone else.

We encounter each other in these odd little lives and act out our parts, re-acting to the others and building the great work of art that is an individual lifetime as we do so.

It’s magical.

It’s expanding the Cosmos.

If someone else (or even everyone else) is puzzled by the path I am taking, that very puzzlement is enriching for both myself and them.  In terms of Life-with-a-big-L, there are no wrong turnings, no wastes of time, no blind alleys.

“What’s important is the journeys.”

 

 

 

 

 

The Proof is Out There

IMG_20151205_070812A very quick post script to my previous post.

The book arrived and was printed just the way I’d hoped it would be.  I’m feeling so grateful that the whole project has worked out exactly as I hoped it would.  Back to expecting and receiving miracles.

Life really is magical when we allow it to be.

The Words of William: Volume One is now available on at least some Amazon sites.

So for anyone who enjoys short but deep paperbacks filled with musings on metaphysics and psychic phenomena, written from within the wonderful world of autistic spectrum perception, it is available:

here in the United Kingdom

and here in the United States.

(You can click on the links above to go straight to the book’s sales pages on Amazon.)

 

Also still available in Kindle format.

 

Thinner than Blood 2: Waiting for Proof

That’s what I’m doing – right now.

I’m sitting in my little cottage in sleepy Somerset, waiting for the proof to arrive.

The proof I speak of is a slim, modest paperback proof-copy of William’s words.  It’s travelling from the United States and should – the publishers assure me – be here today.

I’m excited – quite stupidly so.  I know The Words almost by heart now, having formatted and reformatted them so many times.  They are words I collected and saved over nearly twenty years – childhood scribblings and conversations, strange visions and apparent prophecies delivered by a puzzled adolescent boy, emailed articles and comments sent by a young man cut off from most other contact by the anxiety that now surrounds his life.

Formatting

Formatting

As explained in a previous post, I had the idea of collating many of his words and presenting them to him as a birthday present.  Then I asked if he’d like them turned into an e-book and made available to others.  He wasn’t sure.  He needed to think that through.  Did the most private person you can imagine want other eyes poring over his thoughts and ideas?  After what felt to me like an eternity, he decided.  Yes.

Thus the Kindle edition of The Words of William was born.  To begin with, he was cautious about the whole enterprise.  Within a few days, though, my texts telling him another copy or two had sold received an instant response:

“Where?  Which country?”

He became fascinated by the thought that people were buying and borrowing his little book around the world.  He started to keep a tally.
“So that’s 1 in Spain, 4 in the UK, 6 in the US, 1 in Canada..?” he would text.  “Have I got all those right?”  and eventually, “I’m certainly happy with it and thank you for my birthday present.”

Every kind comment and wish from readers of this blog, the five star review on Amazon’s Spanish site, the messages from friends who had enjoyed it were duly passed on to him, and I could feel his confidence, self-esteem and trust in others growing by the day.

Result!

Christmas present wrapped with a gold bow and ...

Now how on Earth was I going to match that success with a Christmas gift?

Then it came to me.  “Would you like your book turned into a paperback for your Christmas present?” I asked.  “Several people have said they’d rather buy it like that than as an e-book.”
The reply was instant: “Yes please.”

Sorted.  I emailed a friend in the States who had recently published a book with Amazon’s Create Space service.  She came back with a host of useful hints and tips.

I can’t pretend it was easy.  The formatting and cover had to be totally redone and there were contentious bits like the ‘About the Author’ page.  William strongly disliked my first attempt at that, but then amazed me by re-drafting much of it himself.

So now, I sit and wait.  Within the next few hours, the proof will arrive – proof that The Words of William are out there in print, and I simply couldn’t be more proud 🙂

 

 

Hopefully, within the next week or so, the paperback edition of The Words of William – Volume One will be available here and on Amazon in the US, UK and Europe.

Accessing the Cloud

English: Coex Mall Book Store

I love reading.  Will hates it.  I only recall him ever reading a handful of books in his life, and there are not many books in a handful.

We’d been on one of our train rides together.  He must have been about 14.  He was patiently trailing around a bookshop after me.
“What subject are you looking for?”
“Something about time,” I replied.
He grinned slightly. “Good, that’s relevant.”
“And God.”
“Even more relevant.”

We used to have these rambling discussions as we sat in train carriages, you see, heading off on long journeys to nowhere-in-particular.  He’d been my pupil until a few years before, but I always felt I was lagging behind in our philosophical and metaphysical ponderings.  He knew things I didn’t.  I needed some reading matter which would help me to catch up with him.

The book I selected was called something like ‘Travelling through Four Dimensions’.  He nodded approvingly and glanced with interest at the cover.
“You’re welcome to borrow it when I’ve finished,” I offered, helpfully.
“Nah,” he said, backing away fast.

A month or so later, we were on another journey.  It was a warm, summer’s day and we were wandering through Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk, heading for the train station – obviously.
“Remember that book I bought?” I asked.
“The one about dimensions?”
“Yeah. It’s hard going in places but really interesting. It says-”
Head down, a private smile playing around his face, he interrupted me. He started to describe – clearly and in considerable detail – the main points of the book I’d been wading through. It was a masterful summary. He actually made some points clearer than the author had.

Wormhole

I stopped walking and stared at him.  “How do you DO that?  Do you own a copy of the book or something?  Have you read a review of it?  WHAT?”
He looked amused at my reaction, but slightly embarrassed.
“I don’t really know how I do it. I just knew the sort of stuff that would be in a book like that, I suppose.”

Needless to say, he hadn’t read a word of the book, or any similar volume.  He didn’t need to.  His ability to ‘just know’ has been with him for as long as I’ve known him.  There’s a cloud – a place where all knowing, all information is stored – and he has access to it.  It’s as simple and as incomprehensible as that.

E-book CoverLast week it happened again.  I read an article about a ‘new’ theory, called the ‘Many Interacting Worlds’ hypothesis.  I’d never heard of it.  I checked – nor had William.  Yet a year or so ago he wrote an article which covered the same ideas.

I can’t tell whether he feels vindicated or mildly irritated when science or maths catches him up.  He has no qualifications in either, having left school and all education with considerable relief at 16.

I suppose I fear that people who read our recently published Kindle book will assume he cribbed all the ideas in it from books or the Internet.

He didn’t.

His information comes from somewhere non-local, somewhere most of us don’t have access to, some sort of cosmic cloud.  Any bits of information he has gleaned from an ‘earthly’ source – articles about Einstein, for example – are always acknowledged as such.

There’s another aspect to all this, though.  Does his ‘knowing’ mean that the scientists have ‘got it right’ in this instance?  Does his ‘knowing’ hold any more or less weight than that of theoretical physicists, for example, because it comes from this cloud?  Will would argue that it doesn’t.  He doesn’t believe there are wrong or right explanations.  For him and his multiple universes, all things ARE.

A week or two ago, he sent me a carefully constructed theory describing how a crystal had suddenly appeared from nowhere in my cottage.  It was fascinating, but he prefaced his words thus:

I don’t have any evidence to support it nor do I necessarily believe it is the explanation for it. Other theories are just as plausible to me.

Click here to see The Words of William e-book on Amazon.co.uk

Click here to see it on Amazon.com

 

The Words of William

This year, William, my young aspie friend, turned 25.

It really isn’t my place to talk much about his life now; he’d prefer not to share personal information and I feel I must respect that wish.

Graffitti, Goal, Colorful, ColorHe lodges with relatives in a rather run-down area to the east side of London.  He holds down a job where his intrinsic aptitude and preference for routine and regulations serve him well.

He has created a cocoon of familiarity around himself and, within its confines, once again feels able to chat to me freely via texts and emails.  Regular readers of this blog may remember our remote viewing experiments, which still continue every weekend and are as wonderful and puzzling as ever.  See here if you’d like to read about it.

As you may have gathered, William has some unusual skills and what he terms ‘knowing’.  I suppose it’s an enhanced version of the intuition and occasional flashes of insight we all get from time to time.  He tells me that people with autistic perception ‘receive and process information differently’.

As I mentioned in my last post, William has told and sent me many of his thoughts through the years.  Whether it was a masterclass in moving objects through space using the mind or a detailed account of how ‘atom strings’ form the universe/s, I’ve always been impressed by his ideas and explanations.

E-book CoverI decided that, for his birthday, I would collect together all these conversations, random thoughts and articles, from childhood to the present, into a single file and  send them to him, so that he had a record of the development of his ideas.

I asked him whether he shows them to anyone apart from me.  He said he didn’t.  That seemed a waste.  So a further thought came to me.  What if I formatted them as an e-book?  He could then – if he chose – publish them and allow others to share his ideas and musings.

It took him six days to come to a decision.  I’ve learned to work with his way of dealing with the world.  I was texted a few times in the week and told ‘I’m still thinking’.  Pressing him for a decision or offering further information or suggestions would have slowed things still further and caused him additional stress.  He needed that time to work through all the repercussions of having his words OUT THERE.   Finally, late in the evening of the sixth day, the message came: ‘Publish it.’

So I have.

The Words of William are now available – for the cost of a cup of coffee – on Amazon Kindle.  The text is short – some 5500 words, and priced accordingly.

This shy but delightful young man spent many years struggling to find a voice for his thoughts.  I’d love him to discover that there are those who share his passion for all things metaphysical, multidimensional and magnificent in this cosmos of ours, so if your interests tend that way, please do consider taking a look and maybe downloading a copy or sharing the link with others who might enjoy it.

Amazon UK link

Amazon US link

Also available on Amazon worldwide.

Thank you ❤

 

Free E-Book for five days

I’ve mentioned my full length book, LIFE: A PLAYER’S GUIDE, in several posts recently and sales are jogging along nicely.

But for anyone who would just like to dip a toe in the waters of my philosophies, so to speak, Amazon is givinlifeisagame-coverg away FREE downloads of my mini Kindle book: LIFE IS A GAME: YOU CREATED IT from Monday 1st to Friday 5th June.

Here’s the blurb:

A very short mini E-book to introduce readers to the ideas in Life: A Player’s Guide by Jan Stone.
It looks at questions about ‘Life’ such as ‘Why am I here?’ ‘What’s the point?’ and ‘Why is my life so rubbish so much of the time?’

I hope the promotion works outside of the UK – always struggle to understand the small print on Amazon deals.  If not, it would cost you $0.99 in US, or equivalent.

The price returns to normal from June 6th onwards, so grab it while you can.

If anyone who reads it would like to post a review on Amazon, that would be very welcome, as it doesn’t have any yet, although there are some lovely ones for the full length book on Amazon UK.

Click THIS LINK FOR THE FREE DOWNLOAD on Amazon.com during the next week.

Click THIS LINK FOR THE FREE DOWNLOAD on Amazon.co.uk during the next week.

Otherwise just enter the title on your local Amazon site and it should appear.

Hope you enjoy it.  🙂