Author: Maria McDonald

Matters Close to the Heart

R-O-A-R!

Maria McDonald

About to join yet another padel tournament, I thought it was apt that I did a quick recap of the last one.

For the first time ever, I joined the Women’s Beginner, whilst my husband competed in both the Men’s and Mixed Beginner. Though my partner and I didn’t progress past the Quarter Finals’ round, my no-stranger-to-tournament husband proceeded to win back-to-back championship in both categories he competed in.

At national level, the tournament was well documented in pictures. Starting with the customary pre-match snaps of flashing your most amicable smile as you stood side-by-side with your opponents – made more genuine when said so-called opponents were your good friends, the abundance of action shots ranged from the laser-focussed look painted on your face as you wait to receive a serve to flaunting appropriate body formations as you prepare yourself to execute bandeja/chiquita/vibora.

During the finals of the Mixed Beginner, however, the photographer managed to capture this raw emotions of my husband and his mixed double partner.

Posted solely on his IG story, the raw emotions displayed on both their faces – captured at the precise moment the ball was still bouncing slightly off the ground – was nothing short of special, and truly remarkable.

Starting as a chance match play one Friday night when my husband (and I) just started ‘padelling’ (yes… that’s a word!), the chemistry between him and his now mixed double partner was a) almost instantaneous; and b) undeniable. Of similar levels and skills, their movements in court grew more in sync with each match play. Tipping more towards the extrovert side, they fed off one another’s overflowing positive energy – on and off the court. In short, having forged and nurtured a powerful bond of friendship-slash partnership, competing in the Philippine Open tournament seemed to be the most natural next step.

With so much adrenaline and focus coursing through your veins, it was impossible to recall every. single. detail of every. single. game; more as players, but also as spectators. As Roger Federer stated in his commencement speech to the Class of 2024 Dartmouth graduates,

When you’re playing a point, it is the most important thing in the world.

But when it’s behind you, it’s behind you. This mindset is really crucial, because it frees you to fully commit to the next point… and the next one after that…

Sure, there are certain details that had become permanently embedded in your brain, you could simply – and vividly – recall them at any given moment, even without having to refer to the footage you’ve recorded and permanently saved on your smartphone. Seasoned tournament participants, both my husband and his double partner for the Men’s Beginner choked on their first-ever match, trailing 4-0 on the first set before they could shake their jitters off, take back the first set and subsequently winning the second. You remember perspiring as you watched a nail-biting third-setter game ending in an equally intense, neck-to-neck tie break before the whole place erupted as your friends won the semi-finals. A return delivered so fast and powerfully would have knocked an opponent right on his stomach (or lower!) had he been too slow in putting his racket up to block the ball. Or a cross court smash aimed so beautifully the ball simply whizzed past the opponent’s unguarded side.

Having witnessed my husband and his mixed double partner celebrated little victories as a way to further motivate one another throughout any match, seeing the picture above was perhaps not only warranted, but also to be expected. Completely uncoreographed (and practically impossible to ever be replicated again!), neither my husband, his partner, nor myself could pinpoint which part of the game warranted such R-O-A-R. Perhaps, they were celebrating a win after ‘cooking the shot’ to perfection. Or maybe they were relieved that the opponent hit the ball out after a long and intense rally. For all our fuzzy minds could recall, they could simply be celebrating an oh-so-beautifully-executed switch, for my husband and his mixed double partner usually occupied the opposite ends of the court. But, for all the utter jubilation exuding out of both their faces, one would never contest this could as well be the moment they won that oh-so-pivotal championship point (even if in reality, they were occupying the other side of the court)!

Price of Admission

Shield and Armor

Maria McDonald

Copyright © 2025 Maria McDonald

From as early as eight years old, Lizzy had treated the floating deck facing the side garden as something more than a mere backyard fixture. During countless weekends and summer breaks, when she had finished with her chores, Dean Hartley would often find his eldest daughter lounging on the long bench, devouring her novels the way one would retreat to her favorite getaway destination to unwind. Throughout her high school years, it had been the source of inspiration for numerous English and Social Studies’ assignments; witnessed the birth of many powerful opening remarks for her district, regional and state debating competitions. And on occasions in which Lizzy had come home weary and troubled, she had treated this particular corner of the backyard as her sanctuary; a place where she could safely strip her shield and armor and reset her equilibrium.

Should you wish to share my work-in-progress, please do so by copying the link (URL) to this webpage.

Writing

An Attempt At ‘Poetic Prose’…

Maria McDonald

A life-long avid reader, I have often marvelled at some writers’ ability to (seemingly) effortlessly use ‘poetic prose’ to enrich descriptions in their novels.

Diana Gabaldon, author of the award-winning, #1 New York Times-bestselling novels, described the arrival of dawn with such eloquence in her sixth instalment of Outlander series of novels, ‘A Breath of Snow and Ashes’.

It was full dark, but the air had the still, inward feel of the small hours; the world holding its breath, before dawn comes on a rising wind.
~ “The Eighteenth of April”
Copyright © 2005 Diana Gabaldon

Simply by stringing together a few words, my niece (and a fellow aspiring writer working on several WIPs simultaneously) could evoke a thought-provoking sentence

There is beauty in darkness, just as there is horror in the light.

or blend the glitz and glamour of a metropolitan city with old-age imperialism.

Skyscrapers standing sentry as the pavement cracks whisper secrets into the minds of men.

In her novel ‘The Pact’, Jodi Picoult aptly used the below analogy to describe a teenager’s belief on how adults perceived adolescence.

Adults, light-years away from this, rolled their eyes and smirked and said, “this too shall pass” – as if adolescence was a disease like chicken pox, something everyone recalled as a mild nuisance, completely forgetting how painful it had been at the time.
Quote copied from Goodreads

A lover of diction and linguist (I swear, in another life, I could/should have majored in English Literature!), I have always drawn the line at poetry. Not because I don’t enjoy them, but because I simply lack the patience and skill to interpret the meaning behind such succinct proses. Attempting to write poetry purely to fulfil the requirement of high school English class assignments, I quickly realised how much I sucked at rhyming.

That was, until I decided to delve into the literary world, and:

a) Experienced first-hand how a beautifully well-constructed sentence or paragraph could tug at your heart strings and send your emotions into its own unique, spinning roller-coaster ride;

b) Recognised the benefits of prose as an alternative, sometimes more effective way to depict a story; to further apply the ‘show, don’t tell’ type of writing to engage each and every one of your senses.

Still, figurative language doesn’t come easily or naturally to me. In the sea of metaphors, similes, and symbolisms, I would say analogies and personifications are the ones I have frequently used; my constant go-tos for my novel-writing purposes.

Imagine my surprise when, more-than-knee-deep immersed in my novels, a wave of figurative language surged through me; so rare, I had the strongest urge to celebrate, and share.

Read Shield and Armor, a short excerpt from Price of Admission.

Culinary Delights, Wonders Of The World

#TBT – When A Single ‘Union’ Cake Simply Isn’t Enough…

Maria McDonald

Since things pertaining to the World Wide Web have been quite out of whack, thought I’d continue the trend and published a #TBT post ahead of the customary last Thursday of the month.

As we geared up to visit my hometown back in August last year and started compiling a list of ‘must visit’ restaurants, everyone from a sister, her best friend, and a number of cousins raved about Union Deli.

Notably known for their red velvet range (my number one, favourite cake flavour!), I was, simply put, expecting this cake to either be on par, or surpass the taste of the red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing I had frequently created and perfected. A lover of all things ube, my husband put their ube velvet cake under similar level of scrutiny.

Luckily, Union Deli delivered. Both the red velvet cheesecake and ube velvet cake had just the right amount of density (spongy, crumbly and creamy without being dry), and just the right amount of sweetness of the cream cheese icing/layering. Visiting one of their many branches following a scrumptious dinner with friends and unable to stomach more than a slice of cake each, my husband and I simply believed my friend when he said that their red velvet donut (and their donut range in general) was just as equally divine; a testament he backed up by buying a six-pack of donuts to bring back home (two of which were of the red velvet variety!).

Despite our best resolve and effort, my husband and I simply failed to visit the place every night during the 17 days we were in Jakarta to go through their dessert menu. So, when one of my cousins invited us over to their place for dinner, we had no hesitation whatsoever to procure desserts from Union Deli. Originally planning to choose just one whole cake and finding ourselves drooling once more over the cake selection on display, we decided to create our own ‘sampler box’, consisting of:
Ube Velvet;
Red Velvet cake;
Red Velvet cheesecake;
Union cheesecake;
Cookies & Cream cheesecake;
Raspberry Vanilla cake;
Nutella Ferrero cake; and
Old-fashioned Chocolate cake

Needless to say, Union Deli will definitely be one of the first restaurants we will visit next time we are back in my hometown.

What about you? What is your favourite cake? And where have you found the best of said cake – either locally or abroad? Leave a comment to share your story below.

And A Dog, Matters Close to the Heart

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways…

Maria McDonald

With only one day separating Valentine’s Day and my husband’s birthday, the first half of February (and sometimes the few days after, depending on what we have planned for one another) remains a busy one in this household.

Being the month of love, I thought it would be appropriate to pay homage to the two loves of my life.

No words could fully describe how much I love and appreciate my husband, though a few songs have come close. He is ‘everything I need’ to ‘move(ing) through this world as a two-man team’ (‘You & Me‘ ~ James TW), the ‘line in the sand when I go too far’ (‘Everything‘ ~ Michael Buble), the ‘only thing I want when one drop hits my mouth’ (‘I Quit Drinking‘ ~ Kelsea Ballerini and LANY), and the man ‘(I don’t ever have to wonder) where my home is’ (‘Antidote‘ ~ Guy Sebastian ft Sam Miller). On this day, and every day, I celebrate the man that you are, knowing that

Growin’ old with you will be my biggest blessin’
Holdin’ hands while countin’ our gray hairs
We’ll be toastin’ to the two of us, thanking God as we raise our cups
‘Cause we made it, we’re the lucky ones…
(‘Every Lifetime‘ ~ Jamie Miller feat. Tori Kelly)

The second love of my life is, undoubtedly, our Jack Russell x Maltese dog Nala. Starting as a balm to our wounded hearts after losing our first dog, 18-year-old Jack Russell Sasha (hhhmmm… wait 🤔🤔🤔… does that mean Nala should be my third love??? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️), this petite girl packs an abundance of personality traits. From turning her menacing-sounding growl to a squeal-slash-yawn to assuming a meerkat pose to beg for either food or a walk; from pouncing happily along the corridor post-walk or around the padel court chasing either a ball or my husband to burrowing under a blanket to sleep (with or without us!), she is a constant source of entertainment, brightening up our (sometimes!) gloomiest moods and turning an already awesome day even more special.

And A Dog, Matters Close to the Heart

The Seemingly Unattainable Dream (January: At A Glance… Part 2)

Maria McDonald

With my husband as my double partner, we participated in the Mixed Beginners’ tournament.

The club decided to hold the preliminary rounds at the outside courts to (and I quote) “make the most of the cool January breeze.” Well and good in theory, said breeze was non-existent during the night of our preliminary round. Dripping sweat less than five minutes into the warm-up, my husband actually stopped us, stating “we don’t want to run out of energy before our first official match!” as we stepped out of the court.

Lasting a total of four days, the quarter finals and subsequent rounds started at 9 in the morning. A pair of night owls usually going to bed way past midnight and getting up no earlier than 10(!), even the dog protested as she burrowed back straight under the blanket, equally unimpressed with the early wake-up call!

The face says it all…

I stumbled upon one of those shorts’/reels once (and for the life of me couldn’t find it again since) stating something along the lines of “Padel: the only sport in which friends become enemies for 90 minutes (or however long the match play lasts).” Though I didn’t go that far, there was a degree of truths in the sentiment as my husband and I competed against those whom we had befriended during a club’s gathering, and had played numerous matches socially since (Armie and Don during the preliminary round, Liza and Joseph in the semi-finals). Below were official photos taken prior to every match; before we had to shed a large portion of our amicability towards one another as we stepped onto the court and put our serious ‘game faces’ on, concentrating solely on playing our best.

For quite some time now, snippets of podcast and movies I have listened to and watched had a single, underlying theme; that of aspirations we dare to set, and the voices – both internal and external – that might hinder us from keeping said aspiration alive, let alone setting the habits to support it.
To this day, a segment of ‘That Was Us’ podcast that continued to resonate within was when three of the stars of the series ‘This Is Us’ discussed about guarding vs sharing your dreams with those dearest and closest to them. Watch the snippet here.
In ‘Deadpool & Wolverine’ movie (warning: a minuscule spoiler coming, but hardly a jaw-dropping surprise for those whom had been following the film series), Happy Hogan told Wade Wilson to “find his place” when Wade believed his wish to be recruited and be part of ‘The Avengers’ had finally come true.
One of the things that continued to move me from watching the movie adaptation of ‘Wicked’ was the song ‘I’m Not That Girl’. With lyrics such as ‘Don’t dream too far/Don’t lose sight of who you are/Don’t remember that rush of joy’ and ‘Don’t wish, don’t start/Wishing only wounds the heart’, the whole notion that someone needs to squash her growing feelings for a certain boy largely because she isn’t of a certain standard/appearance breaks my heart every time I hear it.

With this in mind, my one and only goal for the tournament was quite simple; to not completely suck😆! Adopting James Clear‘s idea of turning goals into systems from his #1 New York Times’ bestseller author of ‘Atomic Habits’ (which involves identifying the goals you want to achieve, breaking the goals into smaller habits, and repeating the daily habits over time to create a system), I/we:

  1. Focussed solely on each of the three one-setter matches held for the qualifying rounds, and nothing further;
  2. Try our hardest not to have a ‘0’ score; and
  3. Try our very best not to lose all three one-setter games.

Said goal/habits/system had to be adjusted when we reached quarter-finals; when the one-setter turned into proper best two out of three sets with the third set being a super tie-breaker. Usually performing better the longer we play and knowing that a lost first set could be redeemed in the second (and subsequent sets) during a 90-minute/2-hour social match plays, we were conscious of preserving our energy for subsequent matches and tried our very best to not go into a third tie-breaker set; a goal we managed to sustain until we reached the semis!

This goal changed significantly when we lost in the semi-finals, but still had a chance to compete one last time for third place. Fuelled with an overwhelming desire to achieve the seemingly unattainable dream now within our grasp, we coated our overall “let’s play our best and try to avoid the tie-breaker set” philosophy with a thick and impenetrable dose of determination and enthusiasm!

Standing at the podium to receive our 2nd runner-up medals

Our immense thanks to Play Padel for hosting this tournament, and to those community members whom have cheered us on; your ‘Vamos 💪🏼💪🏼’ (let’s go!!!!) messages, conveyed either in-person or through messages, have helped boosted our confidence and morale throughout, and beyond this tournament.

Life Post-Tournament
Whilst I am in no hurry to enter another tournament, participating in one had given me valuable insights about myself, the most prominent being that I actually thrive under pressure (when the ball is coming right at you and you have to keep it in play otherwise you lose the point for your team, you just have to try to hit it any way you can, hoping that even your miss-hit would carry enough power and precision to a) get the ball over the net; and b) not hit any of the outbound areas!).

Now proudly hanging on our wall, the medals serve as a constant reminder that I belong in this sport, and that there are still so many things to learn and master. Like multivitamins you take every morning to keep you feel energised, it gives me an extra boost of confidence to play my best game every time I step into the court, regardless of whether my opponents are friends I have regularly played with, or those I have thus far only greeted in passing.

Matters Close to the Heart

January: At A Glance…

Maria McDonald

In the blink of an eye, January had come and gone. In a nutshell, the month that was had been unsuspecting, though far from the foreboding kind.

Just as echoes of Christmas and New Year celebrations fizzled out and I was gearing myself up to once again embrace the daily routine, whispers of a Mixed Tournament held by the padel club my husband and I have become regulars of grew louder and stronger.

Allow me to digress to give context to the story.

We first encountered a padel club whilst strolling through an upper-class neighbourhood not too far from where we are currently living. Amused by the picture of funny-looking rackets but remaining discouraged by the name (thinking that the word padel, similar to paddle, meant it involved rowing boats), we continued walking past and never thought about said sport ever again.

Until one night in early October last year when my husband stumbled upon a snippet of people playing padel on YouTube and discovered it was a racket sport similar to tennis (in which both my husband and I had played recreationally in the past) and squash (a sport my husband had excelled in when he was young). Further discovering that there was a padel court within walking distance from our place, we decided to check it out, trial a game… and have never. looked. back. since!

Now… those who knew me well would attest that I had never been sports-inclined, nor ever been invested enough to spend any considerable time or energy to excel in one. Though I have quickly become addicted to this particular sport, having only been playing for three short months, I was of the firm opinion that I was nowhere near ready to join a tournament, even at the lowest level.

My husband, however, tried his darndest to convince me otherwise. Swayed by his most prominent argument of gaining a lot of unforgettable experiences, I signed up for my first-ever sports’ tournament!

Stay tuned for the next instalment where I will share some highlights.

Matters Close to the Heart, Writing

Holiday Mode

Maria McDonald

However you celebrate the holiday season, I truly hope you have had a peaceful, joyful and relaxing break.

Our New Years’ Eve/New Years’ Day grazing spread

Amidst the influx of celebrations and gatherings with relatives and friends, non-stop eating, and increased intake of alcoholic beverages, the creative part of my brain has seemingly adopted the two-week shutdown period most businesses observe during the Christmas-New Year period. Perhaps it was the subconscious mandating my mind, body and soul to fully surrender to the joyfulness of the festivities; to cherish and savour the company of those I have willingly chosen to surround myself with. Just like a car needing regular, major servicing once it reaches certain kilometrage, or a body needing plenty of rest to help get rid of a cold, perhaps, this was my mind’s way to slow down and recharge, preparing me for the year ahead.

Regardless of what the real reason might be, any semblance of writing – website-wise or progressing any of my WIPs – has come to a grinding halt. In-between watching the must-see Christmas movies and binge-watching episodes of TV series my husband and/or I need to catch up on, visions I had imagined so clearly become fuzzy as though seen through an unfocussed lens; the sophisticated-sounding words and flow-on sentences echoing inside my head vanishing soon as it had materialised much like a hypnotist could erase part of your memory simply by clicking his fingers. It is even fair to say that apart from writing the Christmas message (published on Christmas Eve), this was the first time I have fired up my computer and started anything resembling writing!

Unlike those businesses, however, there was no telling as to when my mind would resume the ‘business as usual’ mode. Apart from my own personal deadline, there is currently no other stakeholder mandating said part of my brain to open shop, for fear that indefinite closing period would mean losing a certain amount of profit. And whilst I could periodically hear (and entertain) a niggling voice at the back of my mind wondering whether, left idle for too long, my inspiration would ever return, I continue to remind myself that:
a) Track record indicates that it has continually done so; and
b) Like everything, this is nothing more than a phase, and ‘this, too, shall pass’.

Until such time said inspiration returns…

Magic lives in your creative mind, and flows best when you least expect it.
~ Ellen L. Buikema

Wonders Of The World

#TBT – That ‘Perfect’ New York Moment…

Maria McDonald

Having grown up in a tropical country, I relished being able to experience the proper winter during my time in Brisbane. Not proficient in skiing, I longed to see and feel snow up-close without running the risk of falling flat on my face, breaking my leg, or both! Having watched endless movies and TV series depicting those fluffy-looking snow drizzling from the sky above, my husband and I trekked up to New York City at the end of 2019, hoping to tick this off our bucket list.

And the city that never sleeps (thankfully) delivered! On the night we had planned to line up and get last-minute tickets to watch the phenomenon that was Hamilton: Musical (this in itself deserves its own blog post), we were greeted by a snow blizzard as soon as we stepped out of our AirBnB, thick ice blanketing grounds and car windshields alike. And whilst the rest of native New Yorkers walking out of their office buildings around the same time exclaimed – in varying degrees of surprise and irritation, “Oh! It’s snowing!” and promptly ran back for cover, these two tourists happily braced the streets of midtown Manhattan. Despite feeling slight numbness on my face from the chilly temperature, I stretched my hands up in the air, lifted my face to feel those dropping snowflakes, spun a whole 360-degree, and squealed the same “It’s snowing…!” in utter delight, creating my own perfect New York moment.

Below are a collection of snow photos (and a video of said blizzard) during our time in NYC.

Have you experienced snow before? Leave a comment to share your story below.

Writing

‘Sprinkles’ of Information – Part 2

Maria McDonald

Whilst I do have ideas for a synopsis for Price of Admission, being the last book of the series, about 97% of what I have in mind will contain major spoilers. To those whom had pointed out to me that showing a sequel before the origin story could work (just look at the whole of Star Wars’ franchise), I say, “thank you for the vote of confidence, but I ain’t George Lucas 😜.”

Suffice to say that whilst The Lion’s Den and Peeling Layers focus on Elizabeth (Lizzy) Hartley (being the main character), the latter books and – in particular – Price of Admission, is largely told from Michael Bradford’s POV (an equally important character as the main heroine).

This is the first ‘sprinkle’ of section I can share; the Prologue, setting the overall tone of the fourth and final book.

Price of Admission

Prologue

Maria McDonald

Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

To many, fame is acquired.

Actors and actresses become widely known for their talent to emulate any character; from a superhero originating from another planet to a grad student realizing she has the natural ability to be a double agent for the CIA; from a battered young mother struggling to provide for herself and her daughter after escaping an abusive relationship to a buffalo hunter-turned-lawman post the American Civil War era. Singers produce lyrics and music that could pluck at your heartstrings. Dancers impress their audience with intricate, body-twisting movements. Professional athletes gain die-hard fans either from their good looks or as they win state championships.

To a small number of individuals (like members of the Royal family, children of current and former head of states), fame and fortune are simply something they are born into; inherited, like your father’s red hair or your mother’s topaz-colored eyes.

Whether by choice or inheritance, you grow accustomed to living a life in the spotlight, much like walking unassisted or speaking fluently in your native tongue. Over time, what started as utmost annoyance when sighting paparazzi lurking around street corners no longer bother you. Hearing about yet another unsubstantiated story – a total intrusion to your privacy – becomes equivalent to a pesky bug you simply flick off your shoulder.

With so much of your life conducted under the magnifying glass of public scrutiny, any semblance of normalcy is a luxury. For the sake of blending in with the crowd, some celebrities travel incognito, hiding their faces behind oversized sunglasses, a baseball cap, a hoodie, or all three. Famous parents strive to give their children as normal an upbringing as they possibly could, from walking them to school to having a family outing at the park; their paternal instincts compelling them to protect their offspring’s privacy by imploring and bargaining with the paparazzi to refrain from taking photos.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is more paramount than those you admit into your inner sanctum. You regard those cosying up to you with a greater dose of wariness. You screen them more carefully and rigorously, hoping to find a select few whose motives are genuine rather than superficial. Those who want to befriend you for who you truly are, disregarding the preconceived notions the media has depicted you as. Those who couldn’t care less about how the perks and prestige of your status would benefit them. When you are fortunate enough to find these special individuals, you treasure and protect them always, never taking them for granted; for they are gems, more precious than the rare Hope diamond…

Should you wish to share my work-in-progress, please do so by copying the link (URL) to this webpage.

Writing

The ‘Dream’ That Started It All (Sprinkle of Information – Part 1)

Maria McDonald

In the spirit of the Festive Season, this month’s blog posts will sprinkle excerpts from books other than The Lion’s Den.

I mentioned in my bio that what prompted me to grab that pen and paper and start scribbling was a dream; so vivid, the scene just kept building inside my head long after I had woken up.

The dream itself was brief; nothing more than a snippet, much like a scene you stumble upon whilst channel surfing. Standing on the third step of the spiralling marble staircase, a guy was asking a girl loitering at the bottom of the stairs to a dance.

Purely from a visual point of view, there was nothing too extraordinary about the dream. But, just as being chased by a machete-wielding crazed man or a hungry lion could send your heart racing, I woke up knowing there was a sense of casualness in the way the guy asked the girl out and the fact that the girl was hanging around the luxurious-looking interior of the house in the first place (as though she was dropping by to pick him up on their way to a movie); a deep sense of familiarity born out of long-term association, if not years of deep and meaningful friendship.

With only this rough idea to prompt me, I started to flesh out more of the scene. Much as I wanted to keep the fixture (because, let’s face it… who wouldn’t want to have a spiralling marble staircase as a backdrop?), in the end, it was more important to highlight the ease in which these characters conversed with one another. By the time this event took place, geographically speaking, spiralling marble staircase in a semi-private setting was on the scarce side, and having the characters stand around one simply for the sake of having said fixture present would scream forced, if not downright impractical and irrational.

Appearing more than halfway through Tormented by Echoes and Ghosts (Book 3), Wouldn’t Be The Worst Thing was actually the first conceptualisation of Elizabeth (Lizzy) Hartley and Michael Bradford.

Tormented by Echoes and Ghosts

Wouldn’t Be The Worst Thing…

Maria McDonald

Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

“Anything exciting coming up in the Bradford’s social engagement calendar?” Lizzy asked once they had sipped half of their beverages, thus breaking the silence that had hung between them.

“The Cancer Research Benefit Ball is in three weeks,” Michael replied matter-of-factly.

“Black tie?” Lizzy guessed.

“What else?” Michael challenged her. He rolled his eyes upwards, though the slight tick on one corner of his lips betrayed the severity of his exasperation. Born into the most prestigious family, where attending a black-tie function was equivalent to devout Catholics putting on their Sunday’s best to attend mass, Michael had, over the years, grown tolerance to fulfilling said expectation.

Michael rested his own coffee cup to the empty spot beside him. He studied Lizzy’s features as she took small sips of her own white chocolate mocha; from her long, thin, curled up eyelashes to her almond-shaped, piercing pair of Oriental hazel eyes; from her light beige complexion to the dark brown hair spilling out to about five inches below her shoulders.

He retracted the arm he had stretched along the top of the wooden bench, aware that he could trace his fingertips along her back. Michael interlinked both his hands, the thumb of his right hand massaging the spot between his left thumb and index finger.

“Will you come with me?” Michael blurted out before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Michael James Bradford, are you asking me out on a date?” Lizzy asked in a slightly tremulous voice, raising her coffee cup to her lips.

“I’m asking my best friend to be my plus one for the most prestigious social function of the Bradford Empire,” Michael clarified, never taking his eyes off Lizzy’s slightly flushed cheek. “If by the end of the night, we end up kissing…” Michael trailed off as Lizzy met his gaze squarely, one eyebrow raised.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing that could ever happen.”

Should you wish to share my work-in-progress, please do so by copying the link (URL) to this webpage.

Matters Close to the Heart, Pop Culture

#TBT – One of the Christmas Classics

Maria McDonald

I had originally planned a completely different blog post for this month’s ‘Throwback Thursday’, but to blatantly borrow the words Lucy Eleanor Moderatz’s (the main character in ‘While You Were Sleeping’) father had imparted to her, “Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.”

With the Festive Season fast approaching, my husband and I thought it was appropriate to begin our ritual of watching some of the Christmas movie classics (since it was quite a list to get through); from ‘Miracle on 34th Street’ to ‘Serendipity’, from ‘Love Actually’ to ‘The Holiday’. Periodically, we even sit through the ‘Home Alone’ series.

Based in Chicago, ‘While You Were Sleeping’ tells the story of Lucy (Sandra Bullock), a lonely fare token collector for the Chicago Transit Authority secretly in love with Peter Callaghan (Peter Gallagher), a handsome commuter she had never said a word to. When Peter is mugged and then pushed onto the train tracks on Christmas Day, Lucy saves and accompanies a now comatose Peter to the hospital. When Lucy isn’t allowed to visit him, a nurse overhearing her musing “I was going to marry him” ends up telling Peter’s family that Lucy is his fiancée. Caught up in the misunderstanding and finding comfort in her supposed fiancee’s quirky family, Lucy ends up spending a belated Christmas celebration with the Callaghans, where she meets Peter’s younger brother Jack (Bill Pullman).
Synopsis adapted from Wikipedia.

If memory serves me correctly, this was probably one of the first Christmas movies my husband (then boyfriend, and subsequently fiancee) and I watched together in the lead-up to Christmas. And every year since, it has always been a strong contender to be the first Christmas movie we watched to put us in the Festive mood.

As far as storyline goes, it leans (those whom have watched the movie could probably notice the pun here) towards the cheesy side. But, to us, there is always something so refreshing about Sandra Bullock’s performance, projecting a relatable, sometimes clumsy girl-next-door who just wants to spend Christmas with someone other than her cat. The score is, hands down, one of the best soundtracks we have ever heard, dubbed by my husband as timeless. A few staccato notes could send you giggling, predicting that something quirky or comical is about to happen. The beginning of two long notes played in repetition could pluck at your heartstrings, make you swoon, or both.

Packed with memorable quotes – and the fact that we could recall and pre-empt some of them ahead of time didn’t diminish the movie’s allure whatsoever, here are some of our favourites.

“Okay, there are two things that I remember about my childhood – I just don’t remember it being this orange.”

“Oh, geez, I was talking to myself.”
“Well, next time you talk to yourself, tell yourself you’re single and end the conversation.”

“Lucy, you are born into a family. You do not join them like you do the marines.”

“You know, you do remind me of someone. It’s probably you.”

“Oh! I don’t want any flowers from you, I am not wearing black underwear, and I definitely do not want to move in with you, Jo… Jack.“
“Well, I don’t have any flowers, I wouldn’t mind seeing the black underwear, but under the circumstances, I don’t think we should move in together.“

A bit more on the serious side – and one of the underlying messages of the movie, the following quote would, at the very least, make me catch my breath, if not downright bring a tear to my eye.

“Have you ever been so alone you spend the night confusing a man in a coma?”

What about you? What are some of your must-watch, favourite Christmas movies? What is/are your yearly Christmas ritual(s) (other than putting up the Christmas tree)?

Share your story by commenting below.

The Lion's Den

‘Corn Cob’

Maria McDonald

Following last week’s blog post about Fattening the Seeds, I have managed to work out the rest of the section. Without further ado… below is the full-blown ‘Corn Cob’.

Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

She had become increasingly exasperated by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. Having thought of at least half-a-dozen excuses – from a vague malady to outright I-don’t-wanna, the scenario playing inside her head involved each one being put through a gamut of tests and scrutinized under a psychological microscope before being deemed inadequate and ineffective. No longer seeing the merit of feigning anything to gain attention, she had emitted one jaw-cracking yawn after another in a slightly exaggerated manner and rubbed her bleary eyes deliberately repeatedly all throughout breakfast. Whilst she had fully anticipated utter indifference from the parent she had occasionally likened to a drill sergeant, to have her usually doting father seemingly take no notice, let alone comment on her less-than-ideal state filled her with the overwhelming urge to revert to her five-year-old bratty tendencies; from gripping her father by the shoulder and screaming right at his face to chucking the biggest hissy fit, and everything in-between.

She ground her lower jaw and clenched her fisted hand tighter as she let out a slightly huffing breath for the seventeenth time – at least – since her father backed the Volvo out of the driveway.

“You couldn’t write me a note, could you?” Lizzy asked as her father swerved the car into the nearest parking bay, the terror that had gripped her from the moment she woke up churning her stomach and prickling the hairs on the back of her neck once more.

“Excusing me out of school?”

She pried her stare away from the window, feeling her father’s eyes on her even before she cast her imploring gaze at him.

“Just for today?” Lizzy added, her voice small and fearful.

Though her mind was already reciting the gentle reminder on standing her ground against injustice that had been instilled in her since a very young age, she stoked the small flicker of hope within as one corner of her father’s lips curled up to a lopsided smile, his look every bit sympathetic.

“I would, Lizzy, if I believe it would solve all of your problems.”

The hands tightly wringing her backpack and the breath she had subconsciously held failed to soften the blow. Still nursing the sucker punch of her father’s words, Lizzy schooled every muscle on her face from scowling as her father reached across the car console and tucked a small section of her hair behind her ear. With tears glazing her vision, her customary farewell kiss was nothing more than a barely there graze on her father’s cheek before she swiftly exited the Volvo.

Should you wish to share my work-in-progress, please do so by copying the link (URL) to this webpage.

Writing

Fattening the Seeds and Writing Out of Sequence

Maria McDonald

Fattening the Seeds

The author of the famous ‘Outlander’ series of books (and one of my favourite authors), Diana Gabaldon expanded on her writing process, and the reason why it would take her aaaages (say 3-4 years) before she publishes the next instalment.

She referenced the bits of the scene inside her head she could translate to written words as a ‘kernel’.

Sometimes, all I have is a seed. And when you’re a writer, even the smallest of seed is better than nothing.

Here was one such seed drumming inside my head recently.

EXCERPT from ‘THE LION’S DEN’, Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

“You couldn’t write me a note, could you?” She asked. “Excusing me out of school?”

“Just for today?” Lizzy continued as she risked a tiny sidelong glance at her father.

As seeds need water and fertiliser to grow, the above needs some fattening up to become a section.

But wait… As I re-read the above, my mind started conjuring up further ideas on how I could expand on the conversation. Like a camera zooming out, I could slowly make out the immediate surroundings the conversation took place; the feelings wrapped around the sentences. So, after toying with placing different words and sentences here and there and repeating the process a bunch of times (I may or may not have deleted and rewritten the sentences during the process!), the seed grew to become the following bud:

“You couldn’t write me a note, could you?” She asked as her father swerved the car into the nearest parking bay, the terror that had gripped her from the moment she woke up churning her stomach and prickling the hairs on her neck.

“Excusing me out of school?”

She pried her gaze from the window, feeling her father’s eyes on her even before she cast her imploring gaze at him.

“Just for today?” Lizzy added, her voice small and fearful.

Writing Out of Sequence

Unlike a landscaper methodically planting seed of flowers, vegetables or fruits, this particular seed – in addition to sprouting out all of a sudden – formed part of the end of the section.

Yet another common thing experienced by authors (Jodi Picoult and Michael Lewis have revealed how they often know the ending of their books, and have come up with the perfect concluding sentence before they even write a single word), now that I have some semblance of an ending, I need to incorporate the rest.

In addition to writing non-linearly (a topic worthy of its own blog post at a later stage), I also write out of sequence. Before I realise, the next string of sentences I have worked out was the actual end.

“I would, Lizzy, if I believe it would solve all of your problems.”

The hands tightly wringing her backpack and the breath she had subconsciously held failed to soften the blow. Still nursing the sucker punch of her father’s words, Lizzy schooled every muscle on her face from scowling as her father reached across the car console and tucked a small section of her hair behind her ear. With tears glazing her vision, her customary farewell kiss was nothing more than a barely there graze on her father’s cheek before she swiftly exited the Volvo.

To borrow Diana Gabaldon’s analogy, I now have a kernel, after all. Hopefully this will turn into a proper, full-blown cob, when the words for the beginning and the middle (not necessarily in that order) can flow; fluidly and coherently.

Writing

Translating An Imagined Scene To Flowing Words…

Maria McDonald

A lot of the times, what started as a scene playing so clearly inside my head becomes a process of ‘rinse and repeat’. A good opening sentence needs to be revised and rewritten. A word I first thought would be appropriate to use in a particular sentence might need to be re-arranged to appear later in the section.

Here’s an example, in which words started swirling inside my head I had to, first of all, typed onto my phone.

Scenario: Astonished that Lizzy has befriended the son-of-billionaire Michael Bradford in a short time since commencing at St. Andrew’s, Gordon Crane has asked Lizzy to put in a good word. This section reveals what happened after Lizzy told Gordon she wouldn’t be a go-between.

A rumble began to sound and grow louder inside him soon as Lizzy turned her back on him and walked away, dark spots slowly swarming his vision as she matched her pace with the son-of-billionaire.
Re-reading the above sentence (quite a few times, I might add), I began to pick a number of problems:

  1. ‘A rumble began to sound and grow louder…’ Whilst I think the word ‘rumble’ was a good one to use, the opening sentence as a whole read like a mouthful. I wanted something ‘punchier’, but still shows Gordon’s internal turmoil to the reader.
  2. Lizzy matching her pace with the son-of-billionaire insinuated that he was lurking around, patiently waiting until she finished chatting with Gordon. As a stand-alone section, there would be nothing wrong with this. However, in the previous section, I have written that Michael knew nothing about Gordon’s interaction with Lizzy, so him waiting for her around the corner would suggest he knew, and therefore changed the whole narrative altogether.

After a few tries, I condensed the original sentence to:
Gordon began to shake as Lizzy turned her back on him and walked away, dark spots swarming his vision as she matched her pace with the student emerging from around the corner.

No one had ever denied him! Certainly not his parents, nor those whom had grovelled at him, either wishing desperately to join his exclusive little clique or promising to comply with his every wish and be spared from his further torment.
Initially, I left the above sentence as is, but the more I revisited it, the more I thought there was a better way to show the reader why a) having to ask someone for a favour; and b) subsequently having his request denied, was an alien concept to Gordon.

I played around with rewriting the above paragraph, including:
Gordon narrowed his eyes considerably at the girl whom had matched her pace to the son-of-billionaire’s, her melodious cackle as she turned her face slightly upwards towards Michael might as well be a slap in his face.
No one denies me! His inner voice roared vehemently, both fury and humiliation compounding within.

Before finally settling on the below (the fact that I could incorporate ‘rumble/rumbling’ is an added bonus!):
No one has ever denied me! His inner voice stated as thunderously as the boiling blood rumbling in his ears.
Perhaps, the more exacting sentiment was that having had his stepmother shroud him with indulgences he wouldn’t otherwise aware of its existence, and others beg him to either desperately join his exclusive clique or be spared from further torment, Gordon had seldom had to request for anything in the first place.

Having given the reader a glimpse of flashback, I needed to bring the scene back to the present and progress the whole section forward.
Gordon narrowed his eyes considerably at the girl whom had matched her pace to the son-of-billionaire’s, her melodious cackle as she turned her face slightly upwards towards Michael might as well be a slap in his face.
It was humiliating enough that he had had to resort to some semblance of grovelling, the sting of Lizzy’s refusal to do his bidding fuelling his wrath further.

I could have left these two paragraphs well alone, but the below final version just made the whole thing more succinct whilst still conveying everything I had written above.
He narrowed his eyes considerably as Lizzy revealed her beaming face to Michael, her melodious cackle might as well be a hard slap on his face. If resorting to some semblance of grovelling was humiliating enough, the sting of Lizzy’s refusal to do his bidding only fuelled his wrath further.

For not only had Elizabeth Hartley robbed him of fifty bucks – having wagered that her friendship with Michael Bradford wouldn’t last longer than a week before his fascination fizzled out and he returned to his usual loner-slash-floater tendencies, she had also robbed him of the most powerful alliance he could ever had; an alliance that was rightfully his more than it was hers!
I struggled the most with this paragraph. I want to further show the reader as to why Gordon simply couldn’t let go of his grudge – that final nail on the coffin, but didn’t want to lose the potential reader’s attention span by writing long, convoluted sentences. I had written, and rewritten a number of versions, including:

Version 1
Staring at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, he began to concoct a devious plan to make the rest of her days at St Andrew’s utterly miserable. In his universe, the pairing of Michael Bradford’s status with someone whom a) had costed him fifty bucks, for he had initiated a wager that her friendship with Michael wouldn’t last longer than a week before the son-of-billionaire’s fascination fizzled out; b) usurped the alliance that was rightfully his; and c) ought to be scraping the bottom of the oil-greased barrel was simply… incomprehensible.

Version 2
Gordon stared at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, hell-bent in making the rest of her days at St. Andrew’s utterly miserable. For the girl had not only costed him fifty bucks… (see the reason above), but also robbed him of the most powerful alliance; an alliance that was rightfully his rather than hers!

Before finally settling on the below version:
Gordon stared at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, hell-bent to make the rest of her days at St. Andrew’s utterly miserable. In addition to costing him fifty bucks for debunking his conviction that her friendship with Michael wouldn’t last longer than a week before the son-of-billionaire’s fascination fizzled out, she had also usurped the alliance that was rightfully his. And in his universe, the pairing of Michael Bradford’s status with someone whom ought to be scraping the bottom of the oil-greased barrel was simply… incomprehensible.

Click here to read the section in one fluid, flowing motion.

Shy of 250 words, to get to the stage where I am happy with it before moving on to another section, there were a number of delete, re-write, rinse and repeat processes involved. Time-wise – depending on how fluid the words flow in my brain, the topic, and which point of view I’m writing from (and let’s face it – the more antagonistic the character is, the more challenging the process), could be anywhere from a few hours to half-a-day.

Hope you enjoy this little glimpse into my creative process. Feel free to leave your comment and/or feedback below.

The Lion's Den

Rumble

Maria McDonald

Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald

Gordon began to shake as Lizzy turned her back on him and walked away, dark spots swarming his vision as she matched her pace with the student emerging from around the corner.

No one has ever denied me! His inner voice stated as thunderously as the boiling blood rumbling in his ears.

Perhaps, the more exacting sentiment was that having had his stepmother shroud him with indulgences he wouldn’t otherwise aware of its existence, and others beg him to either desperately join his exclusive clique or be spared from further torment, Gordon had seldom had to request for anything in the first place.

He narrowed his eyes considerably as Lizzy revealed her beaming face to Michael, her melodious cackle might as well be a hard slap on his face. If resorting to some semblance of grovelling was humiliating enough, the sting of Lizzy’s refusal to do his bidding only fuelled his wrath further.

Gordon stared at Lizzy as though he wished to lazer the back of her head, hell-bent to make the rest of her days at St. Andrew’s utterly miserable. In addition to costing him fifty bucks for debunking his conviction that her friendship with Michael wouldn’t last longer than a week before the son-of-billionaire’s fascination fizzled out, she had also usurped the alliance that was rightfully his. And in his universe, the pairing of Michael Bradford’s status with someone whom ought to be scraping the bottom of the oil-greased barrel was simply… incomprehensible.

Should you wish to share my work-in-progress, please do so by copying the link (URL) to this webpage.

Wonders Of The World

#TBT – Things We Don’t Normally Do Or See In The Big City

Maria McDonald

Once in a while, my husband and I visited his mother’s ancestral home in Balete, Kalibo, Aklan. Away from the hustle and bustle of the big city (about 1-hour flight from Manila and 30-minute drive from Kalibo International Airport), it is a chance to experience a truly different and – in a lot of ways – simpler lifestyle.

So here is a little taste of things we do and/or see during our visit to Balete that we don’t normally encounter in the big city.

Take part in Ati Atihan Festival
Held annually to honour Santo Nino (Holy Child or Infant Jesus), this week-long festival climaxes in a street parade on the third Sunday of January in Kalibo town centre. Showcasing theme floats, dancing groups wearing colourful costumes, marching bands, people sporting face and body paints, they are a sight like no other!

Hala Bira!!!

Drinking coconut juice straight from the tree
Squeezed between one of my husband’s many cousins and my husband on a motorbike (this in itself is an experience we aren’t dare to attempt in metro Manila), we trekked up to mother-in-law’s ancestral land, where coconuts are aplenty. Said cousin would simply climb one of the many coconut trees, chopped off a few coconuts, climbed down, opened them up, and voila! We get to enjoy fresh coconut juice and meat!

What… exactly… is this?
Made out of plastic bottles and caps, we are yet to figure out what kind of apparatus this is. One could only predict it was for decoration purposes only…

Rice fields as far as the eyes can see
Earlier this year, we were lucky enough to visit around the time they were harvesting rice.

Playing sport in the middle of the street
With vehicular traffic nowhere near as dense as the major city, we could use the stretch of the street in front of the house as a makeshift badminton court. You just have to pause and move to the side to let incoming traffic through (which, given the heat, an occasional respite from exercising wasn’t such a bad idea…)

Trek up the mountains… barefoot!
Yes, you read that right! Especially during the rainy season, when the soil turned to sloshy mud after continuous downpour, barefoot is one of the best methods to trek up to Lumaynay to visit my husband’s cousin’s place. Not only it will save your footwear from being ruined (not to mention unsalvageable), but you will also discover (very quickly!) the additional use of your toes when you have to make your way across a narrow bamboo bridge!

Unfortunately, photographic evidence of such time is scarce… After all, one needs both hands to hold on to everything you can (other people’s, tree trunks, sturdy-looking weeds) to keep your balance.

What about you? Where have you travelled that was so far out of your comfort zone? Share your story by commenting below.

Writing

A Window to The ‘Happenings’ Inside My Head…

Maria McDonald

I stumbled upon this clip of Swedish author Fredrik Backman from another website the other day, and found myself:
a) Nodding vigorously to almost every word;
b) In stitches; and
c) Putting his book on my to-buy-and-read list.

Without further ado – here is a sneak peek of what it is like inside my head… most times…

A few memorable quotes/key take-aways from Fredrik’s speech:

  • I find myself locked inside a room with people I have made up.
  • My brain and I… are not friends; … we are classmates doing group assignments called ‘life’, and it’s not going great.
  • “Everyone around you suffer” (from creative anxiety)
  • I am, obviously, an idiot. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I became an author anyway.
  • So you can, too!

Whether you are a fellow writer or not, let me know in the comment below if any of Fredrik’s sentiment resonates with you.