writesandreads:

writesandreads:

writesandreads:

writesandreads:

writesandreads: More Book News

writesandreads: More Book News: My ebooks on Smashwords need some updating and new cover images. The first one was done yesterday. I am also including a small piece from th...

writesandreads: Book News

writesandreads: Book News: After years of networking on various different social media platforms, I found a publisher, or rather, he found me, or let's just say we...

More Book News

My ebooks on Smashwords need some updating and new cover images. The first one was done yesterday. I am also including a small piece from the book, so you will know what the book is about. My ebooks are available on Smashwords.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/494778

Nico is eerste in die donker hoekie van die donker restaurantjie waar hy sy broer en die Zambiër moet ontmoet.  Hy bestel ‘n ligte bier en wag.  Thomas en die Zambiër kom twee minute uit mekaar in en maak hulle tuis, plaas hul bestellings en wag dat die kelner buite hoorafstand uit beweeg.

“Vriende, hierdie trippie was baie suksesvol.  Twaalf duisend Dollars.  En nie Zambiese dollars nie.”

“Van selfsprekend,” glimlag Thomas.  “As dit so aanhou, sal jy regtig ‘n weeshuis op die been kan bring.”

“Jy reken.  Dan sal ons mos ‘n verskoning hê om elke week fondsinsamelings te hou, pleks van maandeliks.”

“Was onse Anton Joubert toe een van die gulhartige skenkers?”  Dis vir Nico belangrik om te weet waar hy met sy eie kerk se lidmate staan.

“Nee, snaaks genoeg nie.  En hy was heeltemal te nuuskierig.  Sy vroutjie het allerhande lastige vrae gevra namens haar man.  Gesê Joubert wil meer weet oor die organisasie , hoe, en deur wie dit bedryf word, voor hy sal besluit of hy kan bydra of nie.”  Nico se nekhare rys onwillekeurig, maar hy glimlag net en sê:  “Toe maar.  Dis ouky.  Laat dit maar net daar en vergeet van hom.  As hy suinig wil wees is dit sy saak.  Miskien maak sy ou boekwinkeltjie tog nie so baie as wat ons gedink het nie.  Die nuwe ‘mansion’ het seker sy laaste pennies opgeslurp.”

“Natuurlik,” voeg Thomas by, “die ‘arme weeskindertjies’ sal maar sonder sy bydraes moet regkom.”  Al drie manne lag gedemp, lig hul glasies omhoog om nog ‘n suksesvolle verneuksessie te vier.

**********

As a bonus, here is another small piece from the book:

Die program is opgestel en gedruk.  Die dekor is reggepak.  Alles is in plek en almal is gereed.  Die groot aand het aangebreek.  Dit is stil in die saal wanneer die ligte verdof en die gordyn ooptrek vir die eerste toneel.  Die areafees het begin.

1 VERGELDING. Die agtergrondverhaal waarop die verhoogstuk gebasseer is.

Gerhard beur deur die gedrang van mense.  Gewoonlik kies hy 'n sitplek ver na agter, maar die ouditorium is vroeg al vol sodat hy die plek in die derde ry, waarheen die aanwyser hom stuur, noodgedwonge moet neem.  Hy is nie baie lus vir die besigheid nie, maar iets het hom gedring om te kom.  Iets behalwe sy belofte aan sy huiskerkleidster, Darla.  'n Halfuur later word die gasspreker bekend gestel.  Dit kan nie wees nie, dink Gerhard.  Dit kan nie dieselfde Jim Naidoo wees nie, maak hy homself wys.  Daar is seker baie Jim Naidoo’s in die wêreld.  Iets omtrent die man lyk bekend.  Die stem ... nee ... nee!  Dit kan nie wees nie!  Hy wil opspring en uitstorm, maar kan nie beweeg nie.  Haat hou hom vas op sy sitplek.  Dit is hy, of is dit nie?  Iets omtrent hom is anders.  Dis hy, maar dis nie dieselfde mens wat hy ses jaar gelede gesien het nie.  Hy hoor nie wat die man sê nie; sy gedagtes skiet die verlede in.

Die man se oë lyk wild van vrees.  Die genoegdoening wat Gerhard daaruit put, maak hom meer vasbeslote om voort te gaan.  Dis wat hy wil hê:  Die man moet vrees, hy moet angs beleef.  Die dood is ver te goed vir hom.  Hy moet ly soos Irma gely het.  Nadat die man geëet het, neem hy die kosbakkie by hom en laat hom weer lê.  Dis tyd vir die inspuiting.

Book News

After years of networking on various different social media platforms, I found a publisher, or rather, he found me, or let's just say we found each other. My first book, (five years ago I published a book in print, but that was where it ended), is in production right now. "My Father's Will" should be available on Amazon in print, but also as an ebook, soon.

Instead of describing the book, I'd rather let the book speak for itself. Therefore I am including an excerpt and next week, Godwilling, I will follow up with another "appetizer" and include a photo of the cover image. I thing the publisher did a good job of it. It is quite cute.

Half an hour later, my elder sister arrives.  I am waiting for her in the family room.  A tray with two pots of tea - one with rooibos for me and one with green tea for Anita - and biscuits is sitting on the coffee table.  As always she is dressed stylishly and as often, in black, adorned with modest gold jewellery, her hair in an attractive short, feathery style and freshly colored black.  Her make-up is noticeable, but not overdone.  It suits her.  She trots delicately on stilettos into the family room.  I get up from my chair and we cheek-kiss carefully not to transfer lipstick.

“You look well, Anita.”

“I have picked up half a kilo since last you were here.  I quit smoking, you see, and now I have to give up sugar too, otherwise I will roll down the mountain soon.”  She pours herself a cup of tea and has it without sugar.  She does take a biscuit, though.

“I am very proud of you.  I knew you could do it.  And I really don’t see the extra kilo.”

“Half a kilo!”

”Sorry, half kilo.  Don’t worry about it.”  She grabs a piece of skin below her rib-cage half a centimeter thick:  “It’s right here, see?”

I just shrug because I really don’t see one gram of fat on her body.

“Were you with Dad when he died?”

“Were you?  Of course I was not.  Andrew phoned me last night, but I was out and I did not think it was all that serious.”  I cannot think of a single thing to say to that, not without stirring up an argument.  I can hardly believe her callousness.  Doesn’t she feel anything?  Doesn’t she even...”

“What do you think is in his will for us?”

“Really, Anita, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?  He is hardly cold and you think of what he might have left you.”

“Now don’t you get all sanctimonious here.  You must be hard up for a little money like everyone else.  Living in that dump, I bet you will come back right here to the Cape where you belong the moment you receive your inheritance.  You will have enough money to maintain this old house, staff and all.”

“I doubt it.  I am quite happy where I am.  I live comfortably with enough money of my own.  I really don’t care about the money.  Right now, I’m mourning a loss that can never be replaced.  I don’t even want to think about anything else.  I’ll miss him.  I really cared about him, you know.”

“That’s why I thought you might know something about his will.  You were quite chummy with him lately.  Perhaps he gave you a clue...”

“We never talked about money except when he advised me on some investment possibility or managerial matter concerning my own affairs.”  If I am overreacting, trying too hard to hide the truth from her, she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t tell me you never had the opportunity to hint in that direction?”

“Why on earth would I do that?  I was never interested in his money and I am not now.  Even if he cut me out of his will or cut you all out and left me his entire fortune does not bother me.  I might hand it all over to you, but you will probably squander it and be broke again in a few years…”  I bite my tongue not to say more.  Too much said already.

“O come on!  Aren’t you just a little bit curious?  Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘cut us out’?  What do you know that I don’t?”

“No, I’m not curious and I don’t know anything you don’t.”  I hesitate for a second praying in my thoughts:  ‘Please, Lord, forgive me this lie.’

“It’s just a way of letting you know I don’t care.  I’m not going to say it one more time.”

“Well, maybe your needs are not as big as mine.  Maybe you like to live the way you do.  I certainly don’t want to live in relative poverty for the rest of my life.”

“If you lived within your means, you would have coped well enough.  Debt is not a good thing, but you have always wanted more than you could afford.”

“With such a rich father I should have been able to have everything I want.”

“He worked hard and smart and invested well.  Nothing fell into his lap.  He did not start on top.  He was no better off than you and I when he started his business.  And his mother did not leave him a small fortune to begin with.”  I can’t help hinting about our mom’s money.

“Why did he do it?  Why did he work so hard and build a prosperous business?  Wasn’t it to take care of his family?”

“Of course, and he did take care of us very well.  He also taught us to work hard and earn our way through life.  Even thought he was not as present in our lives as much as we’d like him to be, it was his influence that made us work during school holidays.  Mom encouraged us and showed us how to save, but Dad urged her to see to it that we don’t grow up taking money for granted and expecting everything to fall down from heaven”.  She obviously failed with you, I thought to myself.  “Now you have your own family and you must take care of it.  Any inheritance is a bonus and not an earned one.  It’s a blessing from above.  We should not sit back, live in debt and then expect our problems to be solved at the death of someone rich that can leave us his fortune.  If that’s the attitude, how long will the fortune last?”

Anita rolls her eyes:  “What a speech.  You’re just trying to be difficult.  And please don’t preach to me.”

“Well, can we please talk about something else?  I have no desire to argue.”
“What else is there to talk about?”

********

Happy reading,

The Author,

Magdel Roets

Aardskip - Earthship: Actual Solar Power verus Model - aardskip.com - We...

Aardskip - Earthship: Actual Solar Power verus Model - aardskip.com - We...: In the graph you see the actual and theoretical solar power in kWh per kW installed PV pannels average per day every month . In die ...