On the Matter of Writing, and the Proper Encouragement Thereof

Addressed Affectionately to My Mermaid Darlings By a Lady Who Prefers Ink, Tea, and a Certain Degree of Order

My dearest Mermaid darlings,
It has long been my private conviction—though I confess I have not always been bold enough to speak it aloud—that writing is far less an act of exertion than one of arrangement.

The words themselves, I assure you, are generally quite willing to present themselves. It is merely the manner of their invitation that determines whether they arrive with elegance or decline the engagement entirely.

Thus, before I permit myself to write, I must first attend—most dutifully—to the table.
Of Tea, Refreshment, and Small Deceptions
There is, without exception, a pot of tea.

To attempt writing without it would be an act of reckless imprudence and would almost certainly produce thoughts of a most inferior disposition. Tea steadies the nerves, clears the mind, and gently assures the spirit that it is not required to labour without companionship.

Alongside it, there may appear a glass of sparkling refreshment—a thoroughly modern indulgence—which, if it insists upon attendance, is treated with the utmost discretion. I decant it, disguise it, or place it just beyond polite notice, lest it disturb the gravity of the scene.

One must never allow convenience to outshine intention, my darlings—no matter how effervescent.

Of Sweet Things, Which Are Entirely Necessary
A modest plate of confections is not an extravagance, but a kindness—one I heartily recommend.

A scone, a biscuit, or something gently sugared does far more than appease the appetite; it improves the temper. I have observed, through long and careful study, that prose proceeds with remarkable civility when the writer has granted herself a small pleasure in advance.
One cannot help but marvel at how much patience a little jam procures.

Of Dress Suitable to Thought
I write neither in finery nor in discomfort.
Soft garments are required—those that make no demands upon the body and thus leave the mind at liberty to wander, explore, and occasionally drift like the tide. Only a sleeve or cuff ever enters view, for it would be quite improper to distract one’s thoughts with too much evidence of ease.

The object, my Mermaid darlings, is comfort, never exhibition.

Of Paper, Which Must Always Come First
I do not begin upon a machine.
Every sentence is first committed to paper, written by hand in one of the many notebooks that have gathered around me over the years—some orderly, others enthusiastic to the point of chaos.

Ink, I find, possesses a civilising influence upon thought.

It slows the mind just enough to discourage nonsense.

Only after this first acquaintance do I allow the words to make their way to the computer, where I gently refine them—never scold them—with the assistance of modern conveniences that need not be acknowledged aloud.

Of Sound, and the Proper Degree Thereof
I do not write in silence, though I come very near it.

There is often a low, obliging hush—the suggestion of rain, wind, or distant movement—which asks nothing of the listener and interferes with nothing at all. It resembles the quiet of a house content with itself, or the sea when it has resolved to be agreeable.

The mind, like a guest, prefers neither neglect nor excessive entertainment.

Of the Commonplace Book and Other Companions
Upon the table rests my commonplace book, in which I have long collected observations, sayings, and fragments of wisdom that appeared far too sensible to be entrusted to memory alone.
Nearby are the cabinet cards.

For each character I write, I select a face—printed, framed, and placed where it may observe me in return. It is remarkable how much better one behaves upon the page when one feels faintly accountable to the subject.

A character, like a lady, ought not be imagined at a distance. She must be known.

Of Dictionaries, Definitions, and the Consultation of Elders
There are books upon my table whose sole purpose is to explain words to themselves.

Dictionaries, phrase books, volumes of expressions long in use and not yet worn thin by time—I do not search these books so much as confer with them.

Words, much like people, reveal their finest qualities when approached with courtesy and respect.

Of the Pen, Which Is No Trifle
And lastly—the pen.
It must be a fountain pen, and it must contain sepia ink. On this matter, my Mermaid darlings, I am entirely resolute.

There are refills at the ready, for nothing interrupts a thought more thoroughly than an instrument that chooses, without warning, to lose its resolve.

Sepia belongs to memory.
It forgives haste and flatters reflection.

A Concluding Observation
When I arrange the table, pour the tea, fill the pen, and settle the room into something resembling peace, the writing requires no further persuasion.

The words arrive as they always have.
One must simply make it clear—to oneself, and to them—that they are most welcome.

I remain most affably yours, until my next enchanting swim,
Lady Raquel

A Farewell To November And More Artistry Prattle

I love to awake in the wee morning hours when the world is calm and sleeping. I spent the peaceful and quiet morning sketching illustrations for The Tale of the Christmas Bunnies. I painted the first two, and I consigned them to the tip. These are my first paintings in months, and it will take me a moment to get back into the saddle. I write 3-4000 words a day with pure ease and have always painted less. I know with more painting (because I always feel so happy when I paint), just like my writing, I get better with practise. It's taken me years to create my unique style, which happens with every artist.

I am breaking in my brush simultaneously with myself, such as a fresh pair of clogs. I know a few things about my art and what I appreciate most; I am not a complicated artist. I understand a simple painting with few details and backgrounds.

I'm not too fond of an image overly detailed with writings or scenery. I feel overwhelmed. That's the beauty of personal appreciation; we all have a unique style that resonates.

I'm attempting to get my brush to cooperate with me. At the start, I thought it was the paper, but now I believe it was the paint with a bit of trial and error. Believe it or not, I am genuinely finding that the cheapest watercolour paints I own I fancy the most. Isn't that something? You know the kind you can pick up nearly at any box chain store? Yes, those in the pallet with many colours; see the picture below. My paints remind me of women that use eyeshadows, and they love specific colours and will use them up to no end, and then need to keep buying more to get those favourite colours they use all of the time. It's the same for my paintbrushes too. I've finally established the tools (brushes) that I swear by, and it's the brand named Masters Touch. I fancy the generic Great Value pack of brushes from Walmart but collect fistfuls of the Master's Touch from Hobby Lobby. I've tried dozens; the very expensive and the total cheap. The paper I use is the cold-pressed block 300£ Arches. It's my absolute favourite of all watercolour paper. I enjoy a toothy texture to my paper; the scant of roughness seems to grip the watercolour, and for me, that's a lovely measure of how the painting comes alive.

Yesterday I finalised staining Henny Penny's chicken coop. My beloved gardener and I have now been dwelling at my folks for just two years. At the same time, I had no true vision of desiring to live forever at my folks for the most part. I have a picture of sheep in the pastures behind the cottage, little music shacks, stables, carriage houses, tea shoppes, general stores, a small Little House on the Praire church all encompassed behind a stone wall with iron gates. Well, anyhow, I had this vision for some time now, and until just recently, I realised to put my dream into action, one must become very specific in one desire. I wasn't dreaming of a particular place; to be quite honest, my forever home was all over tarnation. A dream must be imagined precisely (you must know what you want with stability) and shant waiver in the vision. This practice is the true nature of demonstrating the desired want to manifest. I have now decided that Jeffrey and I will continue saving our money and buy my folks home with all cash. Then, I will purchase up the surrounding land. This picturesque ideal is our objective, and I've left the rest of the details to the spirited gods. I appreciate that this little cottage was named by my grand mummy Carter's Cottage, and Carter Village was all of her land combined. She had all the things here once upon a time, and I want to resurrect that dream she had when she was alive and place many more aspects to become the magical place of dreams made. If you think of any person that was an Imagineer, they kept dreaming and imagining soothing over and over until it became a reality, and that's what I've always done and will do with this vision.

Thank you for visiting. Do you have any questions for me?

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx

The Curious Mind Of Raquel Carter

I've been steadily working on my Patreon supported series, writing and illustrating manuscripts. I wanted to get this video introduction sent out to allow you the heads up on joining. The first episode will be up before the end of August. I'm sure you'll love it. 

If you'd be so kind and feel moved upon, I would indeed be appreciative if you sent out a siren call to your friends and fellow mermaids of this series by sharing. Thank you so much in advance. 

I'm quickly learning how to use a more proficient camera for video, so bear with me as I navigate the waters. 

Have a lovely day and a most beautiful weekend. 

How To Demonstrate Like an English Lady {And How I Turn A Foes Daggers Into Blessings}

I've been having such a lovely time erecting the victorian cottage; it feels as though I'm playing house, and who can argue with that blissful notion? I'm living out my fairytale, such as when I was a wee little girl. I'm not sure where the gardener and I will be in a few short months; however, I am enjoying the process presently. When I was a child, I utilised my fathers surplus of wood pieces from his old carpentry jobs and made a fort in the triangular clutch of pine trees adjacent to our little house in the country. It had curtains, sides and a roof. It wasn't much by anyone else's measure; however, to me, I dreamt I was Laura Ingalls Wilder. Each day following school, I would change into my play dress (mummy wouldn't allow us to play in our good clothes, and I always survived barefoot), snatch up my notebook paper (I still use the same form for diary entries to this day (wide-ruled notebook paper), pencils, and tea (I nonetheless drink tea as I did when I was little) spending hours upon hours until the call for supper dreaming up the life I'd someday act out in detailed precision. I am performing those exacting aspects as a woman now almost 50 years of age. Isn't that extraordinary! It's so valid that what we loved as children, those moments that take us to a place in our mind and heart that was most wonderful and where it all came to be. That is precisely why we love those fleeting memories that bring us such happiness. It's nestled so beautifully in our cognitive, and we will navigate to reach those moments, whether it be lifestyle, dress, career and whatnot. It's what makes my heart beat like a kettle drum; can you hear it?

An unsuspecting dear soul that I knew many years ago sent me a message, remarking that she’d seen something on an Instagram account (mind you, I'm blocked from), in which a foe was referring and referencing, which very much pointed in my direction. Prevailing as the human being, I am with emotions and feelings; I wanted to tick off the inquiry to see for myself if I could manage to read something that was intentionally meant to hurt me and yet not be moved by it. I was victorious once again. I giggled and thought it was a clever attempt to make me indignant, and yet I thought it comical. Instead of an olde age way of conducting myself in my preceding skin, I wrote a small snippet on my Instagram, which did its part, to sum up how I feel about old cycles and becoming a better version of myself (an English lady). I've once again used my foes attempted lashing as a way of recognising my enormous growth. I believe this is the truest sense of taming an unruly mind and discerning how much self-love I possess. I've got the bit between my teeth, and there's no getting at me anymore. So do you distinguish how we can permit those that would persecute us with ill intentions as an advantage strategy instead of countering?

Whenever there's an apparent attack, the foe reveals themselves to be dreadfully unhappy within their personal lives. We mustn't use their misfortune as a time to display retaliation but instead send them windfalls of wish and good fortune. Let us hope for them to look within and retrieve their own acknowledgement from whence their pain is emerging. I state this most lovingly as I comprehend this futility first hand. Furthermore, I want no part in a boomerang effect of spreading havoc on another soul, for surely remember, “Curses, like chickens, always come home to roost.” I want no part in that.

In the past, I sought retaliation because I felt injured, but I've since revised all of my histories. It makes one more sympathetic when we can understand another's pain and why they seek to inflict it. Might I be clear that having an understanding heart does not mean approval? Let us reflect we are the deities of our reality. When we ultimately take upon that role, we will more accurately accept our lifes position of whether we would appropriate blessings or ruin. It should not be the feeling of skin off ones back when taking responsibility. It's a great fortune when we as women (and men) learn such a triumphant paradigm shift.

All of my chatterings also brought me to an exciting topic to rattle about and share on the perspective of manifesting. I'm a simple woman when it pertains to many aspects; personifying is one of those. However, I believe there are more straightforward demonstrations when we desire such things for our precious lives. Unfortunately, the new spiritual realm has become a dreadful debacle with too many harsh measures, and I plan to create a shift with my nonfiction book “The Little Mermaid’s Transformational Tale” to be released next year.

Whilst I have you here, I have a significant announcement. If you recalled, a month or so ago, I spoke of how I was manifesting rapid growth and going viral on my Instagram account. Before you speedily scatter to see if it's happened yet, in regards to the viral aspect, no (not as of today), however, it's nigh at hand, I assure you. I'm living in the end. In New Thought, you are aware of Florence Scovill Shinn if you know of the Victorian greats. She wrote many books, but one of my favourites is The Game of Life and How To Play It, and in it, she speaks of birds before land. This is a simple illustration for manifesting. We will begin receiving spiritual signs that our manifestation is undoubtedly on its way. Last week I had birds before land occurs on my Instagram. I’ve spoken many o’ times about staying sat at 67 followers after I began another new account on Instagram, which was probably my sixth or seventh time opening a new Instagram account. (Steady on, don't flee quite yet, what I've got to say is essential in all aspects of our life, I'm simply using Instagram, for example.)

Well, and sound, I am a new person since then, and I wasn't going to use old buried bones for a new pup. I meant I would manifest my complete desire; a massive community of like-minded souls on Instagram. You might think this is trite and what’s the point of it all, and if you do, oh ye of little faith. For nearly two years, I stayed sat at 67 followers virtually two years. One might ask why such a lack of growth when there are so many strategies to be had? I've told you many times on this here ol’ blog why I had such resistance with Instagram in particular. I've determined to demonstrate straight forward out in the open what happens on a psychological scale with every aspect of our lives, including a trivial thing such as social media/Instagram. This topic is a demonstration, all be it Instagram, but this is what human folks commit to with their desires, dreams and lives. My attempt is for you to dive to the deep end with me and understand where our difficulties or unmet desires stem from and how to manoeuvre through them. This post, if you’ll read and take in the nutritional fortitude, will swim away from the possession of being a more understanding person. I keep telling you this, and if no one listens, I’ll tell it to the four walls. It makes no difference to me. I'm observing apples when most are observing oranges. Don't you mind it’ll pay me big dividends?

Almost all successful people play the long game, whereas most want instant gratification. “I am the cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me...” Do you remember Matthew from Downton Abbey saying that to Mary when he wielded a wheelchair?

Yes, I chatter, and that's why you adore me. (smile)

Allow me to commence with the Instagram story. I went up a few hundred in followers within a few days, and my blog page views went up enormously. My stats showed I am now getting nearly 10,000 pageviews A DAY instead of a month total as previously. For a blogger that began again (a new blog) just a few short years ago with no added effort or help is excellent news! Do you know why this is occurring? Because I've been manifesting it to appear. The world bangs on as if things arise, and it's so subtle it seems that it would've happened anyway, and that is pure nonsense. Every single human being possesses the manifestations of their thoughts. Make no bones about it. Now might I add that my Instagram has not (as of yet) gone viral, but IT WILL! I have not one doubt. I am persistent in my ability to know I create every single solitary thing in my world. I am that powerful. YOU are that powerful, and if I write till my fingers fall off, you'll eventually take it to heart. I intend it, and therefore, it is done, and that's flat!

Would you like to follow me on Instagram? It's quite satisfying. I'm especially fond of IG stories.

Most affably yours til my next swim, Raquelxxx

Change Is Afoot At The Cottage

Despite all that is occurring most notably in the world, I focus on my capabilities of finding joy and last evening was no different. You may think in reading my blog that I'm fashioned towards keeping my head in the sand and blissed-out living, and you are quite right. Here's my thought on it before proceeding into this post.