How to Photograph Your Own Products for Your Website

 

I’ve received some great feedback about the handmade jewellery photographs on the Nisha Halo jewellery website and a number of people even asked if I hired a professional photographer. The answer is no, I took the photographs myself and I don’t have any photographic training.

1. You Don’t Have To Use An Expensive Camera

I did a lot of research on how to photograph jewellery and it can be challenging as you are dealing with reflecting, tiny products and you really want to show them at their best and as accurately as possible for the customer.

For my jewellery photography for my website, instead of using expensive camera equipment I used my smart phone – YES, a smartphone camera. I personally prefer Samsung for the quality of the smartphone cameras and I prefer Android as I like multitasking between apps and picking my own level of customization, but there are some great Smartphone Cameras right across the board that are serious contenders for some of the best digital cameras on the market.

2. You Need Good Lighting for Product Photography

Product photography needs to take place in a room with plenty of natural light. I also used an LED photography lightbox that cost £13 (size 9 inches by 9 inches) – but you can buy larger light boxes for larger products and these are easily found on Amazon or Ebay. I initially attempted to build my own lightbox, but I could not get the consistent light that I needed with the various bulbs I tried, but some people have been very successful building their own photography lightbox.

3. Think About Your Product Quality and Background

To prepare the products before photographing I spent a lot of time cleaning and polishing the jewellery pieces (the more perfect the product is, the less retouching later!) The majority of my jewellery pieces were photographed against a white background – this background displays the product clearly and your products are more likely to be approved for Google Shopping other third party sales sites, if you are using these.

4. What About Photograph File Size and Quality?

The file size and dimensions of your images can certainly slow your website down if they are too large but you need to have a good enough image size for a quality photograph.  I do not use image files less than 500KB for the best visual results and no more than 20 MB, and I use images between 1500 and 2500 pixels wide (images smaller than 1500 pixels may appear blurry or pixelated when they stretch to fill larger ‘container spaces’ such as website banners). I also never enlarge as small image as it can appear pixelated on the screen.

5. Retouching Images is Key

Retouching photographs can be time-consuming dependant on the quality of the photograph (so always take plenty of photographs to choose from,) however, retouching can be inexpensive - I used a free version of Photoshop Express to retouch the product images where necessary and brighten them up. With model images Photoshop Express is a saviour, you can edit out blemishes, add filters, change background, and add overlays for depth and interest.

6. Total Cost and Effort of Website Product Photography

All in all, I spent £13 on the lightbox and a lot of time - a month in all - photographing the models and images for 85 pieces of jewellery, and retouching and uploading them to my website with alternative (alt) text for images, before I launched Nisha Halo in July 2020.

I have just finished making my new jewellery products for the next season, so the photographic process is going to restart. Yes, there is always going to room for improvement when you start doing your own product photography but with practise you do get better at this and faster.  It is possible to photograph and edit your product images yourself, on a budget and with a smartphone camera, you just need plenty of time.

Nisha Halo Jewellery at Holker Hall Winter Markets 2020

Nisha Halo jewellery will be at the Holker Hall Winter Markets from Friday 6th to Sunday 8th November. The Nisha Halo stall will feature new handmade jewellery creations and gifts for Christmas, and the markets have a great selection of local crafts people, food stalls and local businesses while enjoying lively entertainment for all the family.

Every care is being taken by Holker Hall and stall holders to operate the markets with the utmost safety in mind, this means there will be a new layout and one-way system implemented across the entire site to avoid crowds and congestion. 

Join us for the Holker Winter Market, with its magical atmosphere, on Friday, Saturday & Sunday between 10am and 4pm.

Entry costs £4 per person including parking and entertainment. Children under 16 go free of charge.

I look forward to seeing you there!

https://www.holker.co.uk

Nisha Halo Jewellery at Gallery 68 Ulverston

I am delighted that a selection of Nisha Halo handmade jewellery is available at  Gallery 68 in Ulverston from the 1st October 2020 up to Christmas 2020.

Gallery 68 is a charming space that can be found on the cobbled Market Street in Ulverston, and was first opened on 1st February 2019 by artists Tina Balmer and Rosie Wates. The current solo exhibition is ‘Abstracted’ by Rosie Wates is a beautiful and powerful body of work made over the strange last few months.

A few of the Nisha Halo jewellery pieces at Gallery 68.

Gallery 68 features a stable of regular artists as well as special exhibitions including painting, printmaking, jewellery, ceramics, textiles and cards and is a real gem of a place in Ulverston. I’m looking forward for Nisha Halo jewellery to be featured along with these wonderful artworks and jewellers and if you are in the Ulverston area come along visit the gallery.

The exhibition at Gallery 68 by Rosie Wates features paintings and mixed media ‘Theatre Boxes.’ Work by other artists includes prints, ceramics, jewellery and textiles.

Gallery 68, 68 Market Street, Ulverston, Cumbria LA12 7LT

Opening times - Thursday, Friday, Saturday 10am - 5pm. 

www.gallery68ulverston.co.uk

 

Autumnal Jewellery - Making Seasonal Silver Leaf Jewellery

So it’s that time of the year where there is a light thief at work and a brazen nip in the air. As sad as it is to nearly say goodbye to the lighter, warmer months, Autumn brings about such beautiful changes it is spirit-lifter of its own. As philosopher Albert Camus said, ‘Autumn is a Second Spring when every leaf is a flower.’ 

Autumn Jewellery Inspiration

The very word ‘autumnal’ conjures up so many beautiful images and one of the things I love most about this season are the turning leaves. So it was a good time this week to design a new leaf ring and pendant inspired by Autumn, especially as my sterling silver ‘Falling Leaf earrings’ have been a hit with customers.  

The Sterling Silver Jewellery Making Process

I designed a new silver leaf ring and pendant - drawing out the design, cut the pieces by hand from sterling silver sheet, then hand filed and shaped them. Then there was some fairly tricky soldering to do to bring the pieces together, but with strong coffee (and a bit of swearing) they came together just fine. Once the soldered silver pieces were cleaned up, the fun began.

With a handheld metal etching tool, I added a sparkling textural effect on the silver leaves and a geometric textural design to the silver band of the ring. (I love this versatility of this tool even though it makes an ear-shattering sound.)

The Finished Sterling Silver Leaf Jewellery

The new silver pendant and ring are aptly named ‘Turning Leaf.’ I’ve added the option of a heavy sparkling sterling silver cluster chain to the leaf pendant, but there is also the option of a sleeker silver box chain for a more understated look.

Video of Etching Sterling Silver and Final Polish

Watch the video on my YouTube channel to see the etching and final polishing of the ring… take note, you

may need to turn down the volume.  

https://youtu.be/OVTOGU2gEmA

Jewellery Inspiration - My  Fascination with Hearts 

 I have a fascination with hearts and they appear a lot in my jewellery sometimes as whole hearts, beating hearts, falling hearts, as well as love bite hearts – when it bites it can bloody hurt.

 

My sister and I used to give each other heart-inspired gifts, it might be it a heart-shaped stone, heart print or heart on a card, I have heart-inspired items dotted around the house.

Hearts are fascinating by the very fact we can hear our own heart beat, thump and race. Hearts are inspiring and provoking. Hearts can be broken and attacked but also repaired and healed. Hearts can be heartless; you can break a heart and your heart can ache and burn. 

 

But cold hearts can be warmed. Heavy hearts can be lightened. Hard hearts have the ability to soften. Closed hearts can open. As easily as it is to be half-hearted, our hearts can fill to bursting. Weak hearts can grow strong. Big hearts can sooth incomplete hearts. Hearts should be felt and always followed.

For me hearts symbolise so many things, but most importantly they can hold endless love and compassion. I love the fact all of us can ‘have a heart.’  

 

Caravan - A Novel from Cumbria

At the start of 2014, New Writing Cumbria put a call out for writers across the County to be involved in a novel with a difference. It is a collaboration where each writer had 72 hours to write their chapter. It's finished, it's entertaining and each chapter is set in a part of Cumbria that you may be quite familiar with. The novel Caravan can be downloaded for free. I wrote a chapter and enjoyed the challenge of not knowing what I was to be presented with by the previous writers and twisting the story... so here it is, enjoy

http://www.newwritingcumbria.org.uk/caravan/

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Chat - a short story by Nisha P Postlethwaite

‘Time scares me,’ said the woman to her cat. ‘I’m losing the people I love, and I’m only twenty-eight.’

The cat raised his head from his deep sleep on the bed and slowly blinked at the woman with his sea-green eyes. 

The woman blinked back at him. ‘Life frightens me,’ she said. ‘What would you do if you were in my situation? I know you’re a cat, but you seem to have it sorted.’

The cat glanced at the bedroom window; the breeze had dislodged several leaves from the tree tops and they gently danced in the sky.

The woman followed the cat’s gaze to the window. ‘You’d go out, wouldn’t you?’ Her voice sounded panicked. ‘Out there into that world?’ 

The cat turned his head and licked his coat with his spiky pink tongue.

‘Yes,’ she surmised, ‘You’d go out and face the day - face life again, and take it all in your stride and you wouldn't look back.’ The cat stretched his paws right out in front of him and one grazed the woman’s knee.

‘It's not that easy - I wish I was as calm as you,’ she said. ‘Instead I’m a stupid scaredy-cat. I am terrified of my own shadow, I'm terrified of living – I'm terrified of what could happen, and of losing it all again.’

The cat rolled onto his back and showed off his strip-striped belly; he placed his paws in the air and exposing his multi-coloured toes. They looked like pink and black coffee beans. The woman stroked his furry belly and said to the cat, ‘You’re telling me to relax and to stop over-thinking things.’ She sighed to herself.

The cat rolled onto his side and stared right at her.

‘I know you’re right,’ said the woman. ‘You’re always right. I need to enjoy the present moment and stop worrying about the future.’

The cat shut his eyes and went back to sleep. He hadn't said anything at all.

 Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

Twin – a short story by Nisha P Postlethwaite

They were two halves of one, yet neither knew what their other one thought. Nourished by a single disc down separate lines they floated side-by-side, rolling like synchronised swimmers in their mother’s skin.

Soon the day came to be expelled from the flesh hold. As cords were cut, each Twin reached for the other’s hand - not just for comfort - but to protest against the world.

As the Twins grew, they were inseparable and indistinguishable. They finished each other’s sentences, mirrored expressions, paired tantrums, laughed in sync and matched accidents. The Twins flourished in a secret place with invisible doors and were an impermeable enigma. 

Soon came school, and as cruel as children can be, they finally infiltrated the Twinship by pitting the Twins against each other. Soon each Twin came to measure their achievements and failings against their Twin and jealously took hold.  

In their teens the Twins tore each other down in private; in public they ridiculed each other. Each Twin wanted to be known as their own, but only better than their Twin. Mistrust and bitterness rotted down the Twinship - the damage irreparable.

By the time the Twins were adults, they lived a continent apart, both were desperately unhappy, their lives incomplete, grieving one another but too ashamed to reach out.

You can waste away a life wanting what someone else has got, and sometimes what they actually have is nothing.

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Suitcase - a Short Story

There was a room in her house with a large oak door. The door had a key that she rarely turned. Behind the door was a suitcase that she never unpacked. The suitcase was scuffed and had seen much better days.

There was a pair of trousers in the suitcase she could not pull past her knees. In the trouser pocket was a torn cinema ticket from their very first date. That date blew into a whirlwind and blossomed into love. That love aged and declined into forgotten fervour.

There was a silver frame in the suitcase, tarnished with time. In the frame was a photo of a vivacious young woman. The woman smiled with her eyes and laughed from the heart. She was bare of responsibility and wore invincible youth. 

There was a large brown envelope in the suitcase that she had sealed with a lick. The envelope contained letters written before people forgot how to write. The words on the letters captured every feeling there was. Those feelings were forgotten as everyone left.

There was a well-worn jumper in the suitcase she had knitted herself. The jumper still smelled of his skin - safe, reliable, familiar. Many a time she found those traits irritating, but if she could turn back time, she would take it all back.

There was a journal in the suitcase bursting with thought. She wrote in that journal her ideas and expectations. Yet the future passed her and she was standing still. It was only then she realised that time did not wait.  

In her house was a suitcase that she never unpacked. It was a relic that reminded her of everything lost. One day she decided the room was too good to waste with old baggage. So she took out the suitcase and put it out with the waste.

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Struggle - a short story

She found herself at the bottom of a hill before a flight of steep steps carved in the rock. She couldn't remember how she’d got there. ‘Walk with me,’ said a male voice. She hadn’t realised there was anyone next to her. The man was staring at the flat-bottomed clouds, they billowed on top and carpeted the sky. He placed his foot on a step.

‘I can’t come with you,’ she said. ‘I’m not a good person.’

‘I doubt that,’ he replied, climbing the first step.

She hesitated and considered the arduous climb ahead. ‘I've had terrible thoughts … it’s too awful.’

‘We’ve all had wicked thoughts.’ He turned to look at her. ‘It’s whether we act on them that count.’

She decided to climb the steps with him. ‘But it’s not that simple…’ she struggled to find the right words. ‘I’ve had angry, bitter thoughts. I’ve wrongly judged people. I’ve not always been honest with others or myself. Now it’s too late.’

He gently tapped her arm. His touch was like the breeze. ‘The very fact you recognise it means you are a good person. You are not defined by your past.’ He glanced back down the steps before he smiled at her. ‘Who you are now is all that matters.’

She saw they were high above a lake that dazzled like a sheet of glass in the sunlight. She couldn’t understand how they had climbed so high in such a short space of time. She realised there were only a few steps left ahead of them. I’m frightened, she thought.

‘Frightened?’ he said. ‘Don’t be. You’re stronger than you think. You know what’s right, or you wouldn’t be here.’

As they reached the top of the hill, she noticed the serene silence all around them; she could only hear her heart beating gently in her chest. She turned to him. ‘If you knew the terrible things I’ve thought about, you’d never forgive me.’

He shook his head. ‘Only you know your thoughts. Let them go,’ he said. ‘Let it go. You are free.’      

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Man Who Could See Through Skin

He sat within the whispering grasses by the ragged edge of the lake, crouched down as if wounded, out of sight but not hiding - not in the way that he hid from life. He watched the water - not blue, green or grey but a translucent union of all three - wash over the smooth stones and complete the gaps, before sliding back across the long stretch. It was an effortless retreat.

If only he could glide through life. Instead it was volatile and fractured. He climbed the peaks and sank with the lows, but lately the lows had come more often until they flowed into a continuous bottom-line.   

  

No-one knew what he could do. Not really. He had tried to speak of it, perhaps so cryptically, no-one understood what he meant. How could he explain, really? 

How could he say that just by brushing against any of them, he could see right through their skin - across organs, down veins, between layers of tissue, over private thoughts, hopes and intentions – even those not fully realised by their holders. Perhaps he had not explained it clearly at all, but he didn’t want them thinking he was unhinged or a freak.

Among people he felt like an intruder trampling on secrets and tarnishing dreams as he tread on their souls. In time, it became harder for him to look anyone in the eye in case they saw his growing shame. He was tired of watching everything he said in case he gave something - not his right to give - away.  

So he decided to avoid human contact as much as possible, never shaking a hand, touching the edge of a crowd, offering a kiss, or embracing the ones he longed to hold. This lack of human touch only made him withdraw deeper into himself but what choice did he have?

He concluded everything human was mapped along lines, it was obvious, over-thought and calculated, but nature had secrets he couldn't permeate, such as how rivers carved up the land or how buds and leaves reached for the sky and unfolded before his eyes. He only felt true wonder when sat in nature.

Why couldn’t she accept that? Why couldn’t she understand? Instead, she said she couldn’t condone his apathy for others, his numbness to life, lack of warmth and connection; it was as simple as that to her. She started to cry when she said she longed to reach him and pull him out of the darkness, but she didn’t know how to. So it had to end.

Tears rolled over his cheeks and burnt his skin. The fragile walls of his world came crashing down as he always knew they would. She whispered to him to let it go - whatever it was that consumed him. She reached for him, he flinched, but she still took him in her arms. Her warmth made him delirious, and his legs buckled with the weight of his sorrow. 

Still, he didn’t hug her back, or try to explain. He thought she whispered something else, but the words lodged in her throat. As she left, he knew he would never see her again.   

He felt crippled in the grasses but he took solace in the gentle movement of the water. His mind flitted back. How could he have told her what he felt through her skin? How could he say inside her was something else, slowly unfurling and diligently forming - part-her and part-him? How could he say there was another poor soul that could see through his mother’s skin?  

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Girl who Couldn’t Dream

There were wild horses on the hill, assorted coloured oblongs punctuating the flat green slope. They looked like something straight out of dream, she thought, although she had never experienced one.

Her nights were matt black and uneventful, her slumber long and lifeless, but she always rose with a heavy head, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Where did her thoughts go as she slept? As soon as her head touched the pillow, it was like she lost herself.  She wondered if her mind left her body because she was so unaware of everything as she lay in her bed.

Her waking life was very different, her thoughts drifted through the day, time gently melting away as she glided through each experience. She would flit from one thought to the next, like a bee amongst flowers. Concentration didn’t come easy when she was awake.

There were wild horses on the hill – just a moment ago. Her eyes ran up and down the green and across the edges. The horses had gone. Had she imagined them?

Maybe she experienced things the wrong way round. Maybe she lived in a dream.

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite

Please don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook 

The Tales of Finndragon Kindle Countdown Tour

Richie Earl is a self-published author of young adult fantasy fiction. Welcome to his blog tour, with a fantastic discount giveaway for his novels at the end of his guest blog ...

       My name is Richie Earl and I’m the author of the Tales of Finndragon, young adult fantasy series. I’d like to thank Nisha for hosting this leg of my Kindle Countdown Tour. I hope that some of her readers might be want to take advantage of the discounted prices. I hope you enjoy the short excerpt which follows this brief synopsis.

       Finndragon's Curse:

       “Your castle, kingdom and everything in it shall sink into the earth and be set upon by monsters and demons until the end of time, and never be seen again!”

       The Legend of Finndragon’s Curse is an original and unique fantasy adventure, which will appeal primarily to older children and teens, but also adult readers who like a bit of escapism. It is the story of three ordinary children, Emma, Megan, Scott and their pet dog Bones in their quest to find their father, who has been missing for nearly a year.

       The story is based on an ancient Welsh legend which has been kept alive by bedtime stories for countless generations. The two sisters and their brother unravel the riddle of an ancient scroll. This helps them find the gateway that leads to a 6^th century Welsh kingdom in search of their dad. The scroll states that anyone who stays in the kingdom for more than a year can never leave. The journey through the gateway is a mini-adventure in itself; involving finding their way through a maze of caves, and ends with them entering the magnificent medieval Castell y Mynydd.

       In this extract, Emma, Megan and Scott have only just arrived at the castle.

       Emma beckoned them both to one of the windows and they all looked through the narrow slit. They were all once again speechless.

       They were looking out from a high window, with the ground about fifty feet below. There were lots of people in ragged, medieval clothing going about their business. Two men were pulling a handcart laden with a bulging cloth sack. Another was chasing a small piglet, who kept evading his would be catcher by running in and out of his bow legs. High on the castle walls were a small number of armour clad sentries, keeping a vigilant watch.

       Many others hurried to and fro across the cobbled courtyard, seemingly too busy to stop and talk. Considering the number of people below, there was an eerie silence. There were some sounds that reached their window, such as a piglet’s squeal and the rattle of wooden wheels on cobblestone, but not much else.

       Within an instant that all changed as a loud, ear piercing klaxon sounded from somewhere within the castle. Everyone below left what they were doing and ran towards the tall stone buildings surrounding the courtyard.

       As the people entered their dwellings, there was the sound of heavy doors slamming shut and large bolts being pushed into place.

       The castle walls were heaving with soldiers. All wearing chain mail, protective clothing consisting of small metal rings linked together, they were holding large, heavy swords and long sharp spears, while others held bows already primed with arrows. Some of the soldiers faced away from the castle while as many again faced inwards from the battlements.

Emma, Megan, Scott and Bones peered from their vantage point.

       Suddenly they all heard a noise like none they’d heard before. It started quietly, but within moments it was terrifyingly loud and sounded like the beating of drums. Then they saw the source of the noise.

      A swarm of winged creatures twice the size of a man descended from the red sky, circled the castle and attacked from all directions at the same time. Their wing span was at least twice the creatures’ height. Two small legs dangled from each and two powerful, muscular arms sprouted from long, thin torsos. They had a pair of piercing green eyes set high in their bony heads, no visible nose and a beak-like mouth. Their ears seemed to be just small holes in the sides of their heads and their skin was brown and reptilian in nature.

      The fearsome creatures set upon some stragglers in the courtyard, battering them with huge wooden clubs. The unfortunate victims hurtling great distances through the air before hitting the ground with a bone-shattering judder.

      The archers, who missed their targets more often than not, were being attacked from all sides by demons that flew straight at them, swatting away with their clubs. Their armour clad comrades were trying to stave off attackers in order to let the archers do their jobs. Many of the archers were knocked off the ramparts to almost certain death below.

       The whole attack lasted no more than ninety seconds, before the demons retreated as quickly as they’d arrived. Emma was trembling as she turned to look at Megan and Scott, her look of terror mirrored in their faces.

       “Oh my God, those men didn’t have a chance. Those creatures were so quick. They must have killed hundreds!”

       Nobody answered, but they reluctantly returned their gaze to the carnage below, where they could see the full extent of the slaughter. Countless bodies lay at the foot of the high castle walls, tended to by the women of the castle. The surviving soldiers remained at their posts, searching the sky for a second wave of attackers.

       None came, and after a minute or so another klaxon sounded the all clear. Now only the sentries remained on the ramparts, as the other soldiers went to help care for the wounded and dying below.

Emma, Megan, Scott and Bones shrank back into the middle of the room, trying to put some distance between themselves and the events they had witnessed.

       “We should go straight home, NOW!” Megan cried. “What chance do we have of staying alive in this place, let alone of finding Dad, if he’s still alive, that is?”

       “Don’t talk like that, Meg. Of course he’s alive and we can’t give up that easily; besides, we don’t know how to get back.”

       They all thought about that last statement, its implications gradually sinking in. Emma’s mind was working overtime now. They’d only planned up until the point which they had now reached. How on Earth could they have planned beyond? Okay they had an outline of a plan: get here, find Dad, and get home. All their preparation had gone into getting here, now they had to think on their feet and think quickly too.

Kindle Countdown Promotion - up to 67% discount. The Legend of Finndragon's Curse is on offer 15th-21st April.
Return to Finndragon's Den is on offer 21st-28th April.

Available to purchase from:

Amazon - for kindle

The Legend of Finndragon's Curse:   http://viewBook.at/FinndragonsCurse

Return to Finndragon's Den:              http://viewBook.at/ReturntoFinndragonsDen

Lulu Publishing - paperback:          http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/finndragon

Links

One Thousand Worlds in One Thousand Words blog:           http://onethousandworlds.blogspot.co.uk/

Tales of Finndragon Facebook Page:              https://www.facebook.com/finndragonscurse

Goodreads Author Page:        https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6523833.Richie_Earl

Twitter (@finndragons):         https://twitter.com/finndragons

Book Trailer:               http://youtu.be/gXeh-pzIHSI

a Rafflecopter giveaway

What Do Writers Dream Of?

I’m lying inside our van, horizontal but not laid straight, listening to the world wake up. The darkness has various shades due to a jagged strip of stormy light seeping through a break in the curtain. 

As the night's excesses wear off, my head throbs relentlessly; my mouth’s bone dry no matter how much water I sip. My mind races on.

Normality picks up a pace outside but I try to ignore the muffled sounds and any thought of thoughts in case they string together into meaning. Reality is still slanted and slurred inside the metal can.

I am physically shattered, but real rest escapes me, instead there’s shattered sleep sliced with shards of fragmented memories: fraught thoughts, blurred lines, snippets of broken conversation and mismatched words. Time slowly ticks by and I cannot help reflect on everything past.

My eyes flicker open and I’m faced with drops of condensation slowly edging down the inside of the glass. I blow out bursts of frosty vapour while my warm legs twitch relentlessly under the duvet.  

As my mind slides in and out of consciousness, it’s hard to pick apart what is real or false, or if I'm actually sleep.  

What do writers dream of? A voice inside my head asks.

I answer carefully. When asleep, not a lot. Our sleep is scattered, our minds overly-active. We churn conversations, memories and aspirations over (and over) in our heads. Our thoughts are too furious for uninterrupted rest.

What do writers dream of? The voice asks again. Don’t they dream?

I open my eyes. 

Yes we dream. We dream more than most, but usually when we’re awake.  

Nisha P Postlethwaite is author of 'The First Sense' fiction eBook based in the Lake District and Cumbria, available from several online retailers. To find out more visit www.nppostlethwaite.com

On twitter I'm  @nppostlethwaite
Don't forget to like The First Sense on Facebook