Mary Granger and the angel Gabriel (of Catch the Moon, Mary by Wendy Waters)

Source: Mary Granger and the angel Gabriel (of Catch the Moon, Mary by Wendy Waters)


The Eve of Destruction

It’s very difficult to understand how the world got to a place where validation of the hollow male psyche has become not only Rule but Aspiration. What we are witnessing on this beautiful blue planet right now is the externalizing of the vacuum within the souls of two power-glazed male leaders – Trump and  Kim Jong-un – whose mono-dimensional personalities lack the tempering of an intuitive female and the reverence inspired by sincere contemplation of both purpose and eternity. These madmen lionize the temporal without due consideration of the eternal consequences. The intuitive man or woman seeks immortality in the spiritual process attendant upon the pursuit of excellence. The macho male seeks permanence in the physical, either by construction or destruction on a massive scarring scale. His spiritual arteries are blocked and no light can pass through the conduit of the soul to inform both reason and beauty. The sacrifice of the feminine in religion has had a trickle-down effect over the centuries. The quiet respect for and contemplation of nature and the connection with Otherness has been replaced by a soulless unethical pursuit of money at any cost and the fear-based obedience to false power. Real power like real prayer is a sudden rising of wonder in the face of beauty or revealed truth. The world has lost its balance…economic concern has toppled reverence, marshal might has overcome spiritual right. I fear for the future if humanity continues to bend its knees to hollow despots who exhibit a morbid display of deadly toys in the name of protection and the assumption of aggression. People kept in a deliberate state of fear will choose their weapon and exonerate a macho bully. I see both these men and all who follow them as spiritual orphans whose contact with a higher benevolence has left them adrift and ill-informed. To fill the vacuum within they replicate spiritual authority with affluence and pomp but these external featherings do not kindle autonomy. No external posturing, feathering or armoring will ever excite or invite gnosis. To seek excellence is to cultivate the highest and best and most purposeful within ourselves and to invest in it with commitment and faith. The practice of inner cultivation is largely taken in silence and solitude. Even as we tread the lonely higher path the world falls away and fails to applaud the courage of commitment. But one day when you emerge from your self-imposed cocoon winged and stigmatically wounded with realized gifts replete others will notice and hopefully be inspired to fold themselves away from distraction and immediate gratification, ignore the trumpeting of bullies and take the time to evolve from a voracious consumer to an exquisite pollinator and progenitor of a higher order of life.

Mary Granger and the angel Gabriel (of Catch the Moon, Mary by Wendy Waters)

The Protagonist Speaks

catch-the-moon-mary-wendy-watersDear readers, tonight is another special double interview. With us on the interviews is the archangel Gabriel, as well as the mortal woman he fell in love with, Mary Granger.

They are here to talk about love, light, and music – and how all three are connected.

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

[Gabriel] I’d like to answer this one if you don’t mind, Mary. My name is Gabriel. I’m an angel and have always “been”. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t conscious of myself in relation to all that is and ever will be so I’ve never “grown up” as it were. I don’t remember why I was called Gabriel or who called me that. Eons ago my Father recognised my singular creative genius and 2IC’d me into helping Him create worlds upon worlds, one of which humanity calls…

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2016 the year that was

There’s an old saying that goes sort of like this “To wake you up God throws a pebble at your window, if you sleep through that He chucks a brick, if you ignore that He drops a boulder on your house.” You may die or you may wake up. Either way the old house is gone and you are contemplating uncharted terrain. Now you can rebuild the old house and retreat to the safety of the known or you can build a symbiotic relationship with the unknown. I think this is where we are all standing now…on the brink of change. For me 2016 has been the year of either burning bridges or burying our collective heads in the sand. We can keep pretending climate change is a fiscally-driven myth as Trump trumpets, we can keep pretending the tsunami tide of refugees is a disbanded group of terrorists seeking European infiltration, we can keep ignoring the rising sea of homeless who shadow our city streets, we can keep justifying corporate greed and the unwieldy balance of wealth and power and opportunity or we can let go of everything we’ve been taught to need, fear and aspire to. We can let go and tune into the universe we inhabit and see if maybe there is a higher way of being, a better paradigm for life and a braver metaphor for success than wealth and title. We can let go of being competitive and explore harmonious nurturing of others and the pooling of resources and opportunities. But we may have to let go of separation to do so. Separation by religion, politics, nation, gender, sexuality, age, wealth etc and recognize the common link of soul, breath and beauty. I asked a friend recently if his religion would be worth defending on another planet…he had been arguing volubly about the true nature of God – his God. He paused his learned rhetoric and considered the possibility that it might be a little pointless. He conceded that aliens may well have sprung from the same God but known by a different name. I asked him what he would have if he landed on a different planet. “My soul,” he said. “It’s all I will have left of my former life on earth. I wouldn’t even have my name because it would mean nothing without my family. No nationality, no wealth, no career, no history, no politics, no religion. Just my soul.” Just the freedom to be himself and nurture a symbiotic relationship with a nameless God – just as sweet, just as mysterious, just as potently available. It’s time to strip away the trappings of centuries of indoctrination and “name-calling” and reclaim the one truly universal identity we possess – our souls. We’ve forgotten to trust ourselves, our instincts, our truths, our opinions and our own version of God because life has been overly-mapped, overly-processed and overly-monitored for far too long. We are neither sheep nor shepherds but souls conjoined to a sky that drops manna if we have faith. We can do better than a divided word threatening each other with nuclear warheads and fiscal sanctions. We can do better than arguing over God instead of emulating Him or Her or IT. We can do better than leaving people lonely at Christmas or indeed any other day of the year. We can do better with no cost to ourselves because the equity of the soul, the only transferable currency we possess, is love and every deposit increases our balance on this or any other planet, in this or any other race, with or without gravity , winged or rooted in the earth, it’s all one ultimately. The point of consciousness, the soul holds the entire universe in suspension and distance is an illusion. From here we journey forth, to here we return only to realize no distance was covered, no separation was possible and all the arguments, wars and loyalties were human constructs created by the faithless to cure their fear of separation and death.

Erase the Barriers between Writers and Readers in Canada

This is a superbly written article.

Canadian Writer

blog-post-nov-17-cancon Canadian Heritage consultation site

“The federal government is poised to pursue the most significant cultural policy overhaul in over a decade and Canadian Heritage is holding a consultation on Canadian content in the digital world that will help shape new policy.” – Access Copyright email

It seemed important to me to contribute to this consultation, so I summarized my experience with the extraordinary changes that have hit the publishing industry over the past decade. Many of you who have been following this blog have already heard my story in bits and pieces, but now – thanks to Heritage Canada – I have it all in one place. Last week, I posted it on the department’s site (where there are lots of other interesting contributions which I encourage you to check out). I am reproducing it here:

A Promising Start

In 2000, I was well on my way to becoming at least a mid-list writer when…

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Stunning Review on Amazon by Anthony Lawrence

Somewhere, somewhen the celestial gavel came down upon the firmament with an almighty crack. A monstrous voice, its timbre shaped by colliding quasars spoke inescapable judgment.

“Upstart mortal, Wendy Waters, I condemn thee to write. Forever.”

And behold, it was very good.


I’ve had soft spot for the Judaeo Christian good vs evil thing. This particular ordained person of virtue going 12 rounds with that particular arch demon, for the soul of humanity, to a backdrop of cosmos spanning God/Satan refereed fireworks and a nifty soundtrack.

What Wendy has done has brought this to a very personal level where an abused and musically gifted child has made a Faustian bargain (not that she had much choice) with an angel, though not Lucifer, may as well be. I was amazed Wendy could get into the mind of child under these circumstances and bring her alive in a character. But if I swap the angel for a parent like figure then I begin to see how.

For not a large book, Wendy fleshed out some interesting characters which initially I started out disliking then grew on me. Or, started out keen to know more and ended up detesting. But that’s the intent of characterization and it worked for me. Even though they had a habit of dying quick.

Some of Wendy’s well rounded creatures such as the brother-in-law I’ve had similar run-ins with, always at my expense. The producer she nailed with a bullseye. The angel, a nasty piece of work. But I assume that is what absolute power does. Especially after Daddy has taken a heavenly sabbatical. Most of the characters had suffered abuse.

Then there’s Mary. I loved her from first keystroke. Putting out dishes of food for the elves was jolly good wheeze. There is music within her. She is a piano whisperer. She is a victim of abuse. She tries to protect those she loves. She has an angel. She is a deal maker and breaker. She has untarnishable hope. She will change the world

I had to itemise that for I find Mary beautifully complex and I can’t get my head around her in one book review session (my first on a fictional work).

Wendy writes of life with abuse. Wendy writes of the life after abuse. Wendy writes of overcoming abuse. Wendy triumphs for all.

An interview with FutureBook founder Sam Missingham

The inspiring Sam Missingham. Every publisher, author, would-be literati should read this interview.

Words Are My Craft

Anyone who knows anything about the publishing world know that an interview with Sam Missingham is a Big Deal. Having worked for publishing giants such as the Bookseller, FutureBook and HarperCollins, she has forged an immensely successful and influential career in publishing and marketing within the books industry.

I’ve been an admirer and follower of Sam’s for a while now and I was very excited when she agreed to undertake this interview for my blog.

The lovely Sam Missingham The lovely Sam Missingham

Can you give my readers a brief overview of your career so far?


I’ve spent the vast amount of my career working in magazine publishing. I started at a very small company that published financial technology titles. I learned a huge amount working in a small business with a very entrepreneurial boss. He taught me a few simple but important things – everyone in the company should be able to…

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Review of Catch the Moon, Mary by Wendy Waters



One of the joy of being an Indie Author, is discovering the works of fellow indies. These are books you are unlikely to find on the best-seller shelf at your local soulless mega-store. No. These are exceptional works with literary merit, books that will make you feel, expose you to new worlds and make you look at the horizon rather than at your feet.

I’ve previously reviewed Dan Buri’s Pieces Like Pottery. While Catch the Moon, Mary is quote different on the surface – paranormal aspects, angels, focus of music – there is a certain resemblance in the underlying themes of redemption and the astute observations on the human condition. Just goes to show, that a good paranormal fantasy can go far beyond vampires and sword fights.

Here is the full review I posted on Amazon and Goodreads. It’s 5 Stars,  if you haven’t guessed:

A unique tale of…

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Let’s Talk About Mental Health

GUEST BLOG – Wendy Waters

Hi all!
This week my guest blogger is Australian author Wendy Waters, whose debut novel Catch The Moon, Mary was published last year.Anyone interested in guest blogging about their own experiences with any mental health problem or know someone who is, please get in touch with me via Twitter – @letstalkmhealth or Facebook –

Wendy Waters is an Australian writer/lyricist/librettist who’s first published novel Catch the Moon, Mary was launched in London at Questors Theatre and Cellar Door in September 2015.
She is currently adapting the book into a play with playwright Jemina Macedo and composer Shanon D. Whitelock. Wendy and Shanon are also writing a musical called The last Tale based on the life of Scheherazade, storyteller of The Arabian Nights 1001 Tales.
The constant themes in Wendy’s work are music, magic and the power of the imagination.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to their graves with their song unsung.”
– Henry David Thoreau
But those who sing out loud may be revered as celebrities or reviled as crazies.
CRAZY as defined by the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary
1.Full of cracks and flaws; impaired, liable to fall to pieces.
2. Broken down, frail, infirm.
3. Of unsound mind; mad; insane. Often in the sense of mad with excitement; perplexity 1617. Showing derangement of intellect 1859
DERANGEMENT definition
1. To disturb or destroy the arrangement of. To throw into confusion; to disarrange.
2. To disturb the normal state, workings or functions of known habits; to act abnormally 1776.
IMAGINATION definition
1. Existing only in the mind or fancy, not in reality.
2. Forming a mental concept of something not actually present to the senses.
3. The mental consideration of actions or events not yet in existence.
4. The power which the mind has of forming concepts beyond those derived from external objects.
5. The creative faculty. Poetic genius.
We live in a time of numerically quantified absolutes. Global communication is instant. Anything we need to know we can Google. No need for imagination. No need to think for ourselves. For every situation or problem there are solutions we can freely quote and faithfully rely on. There is no need to question absolutes like the speed of light, 186,000 miles per second, the value of energy – E=MC² (Energy = Mass x the speed of light squared), the evening news or the price of housing. Other people have done our thinking for us and supplied us with all the answers.
We live in a world run on information overload. Quiet reflection is unnecessary and time is money. Sitting around pondering events not yet in existence is wasting time. Our understanding of ourselves, our world and our universe is built on numerically sound, rock solid absolutes. Rock solid?
Hmm …
it seems some quasars have been caught travelling faster than the speed of light. Are they crazy? Don’t they know that light’s velocity –186,000 miles per second – marks a cosmic speed limit? For those of you not particularly scientific a quasar is a superluminal stream of light shining so brightly it eclipses the ancient galaxies that contain them and some of these renegades dare move faster than the speed of light. Quasars are powered by black holes a billion times more massive than our sun and they shoot through our galaxy at ridiculously disruptive speeds.
In short, these renegades are singing their own song! Poetic genius? Or just plain crazy?
And what to do with this rocking of the absolute? Ignore it? Explain it away? Or considerevents not yet in existence. Come now, that would be crazy! We have a whole field of science based on relativity supported by absolutes that have no business altering on a whim.
Crazy, full of cracks and flaws, maddened with excitement and perplexed by rules, filled with a sense of what could be, shining brightly, dancing through space in defiance of gravity –social and weighted. How dare these quasars fly through space at breakneck speed and dance for no apparent reason beyond joy.
My God, they’re as pointless as artists. Creative people and quasars simply don’t understand how disruptive they’re being when they defy gravity for the sake of it. But for the artist, the misfit, the quasar and God chaotic disruption is the precursor of creation. Nothing new springs from order. Absolutes must be “disarranged” to facilitate the arrangement of imagined events not yet in existence.
“I put my heart and soul into my work, and I have lost my mind in the process.”
– Vincent Van Gogh.
But today we celebrate his genius. Why not? The crazy man is dead and no longer bugging people with requests for money or offers of love. Now that the pesky progenitor of the Irises and Starry Starry Night is safely silent we are free to rhapsodise over his legacy and romanticise his suffering. But would we have lent him money for paints had he come knocking? Would we have spurned his rather excessive love? Probably. Passionate people are difficult to be around. They make poor partners and demanding co-workers. They have this pesky dedication to excellence that makes the non-achiever look slack and incompetent. Who needs it?
We do. If we are to find meaning and purpose in life we need to set ourselves challenges and goals that defy gravity and follow paths so narrow they can only safely accommodate one traveller at a time. The roads less travelled lack signposts and charts. They are steep and invariably offer no shelter. But oh, the view.
I have depression, anxiety and a mild form of Asperger’s that manifests as excessive dedication to my work and a need for precise order. I get panicky if things have been moved on my writing desk, anxious if routines change. My life is ordered around the chaos of my imagination upon which no boundaries or restraints are placed.  My imagination travels at any speed it likes, stumbles map-less into worlds of its own and leads where it may, even into hell. And I follow. Why? Because I trust it. I trust my imagination in a way that I don’t trust reality. And herein lies the key to the myriad triggers that contract my consciousness into despair, anxiety or depression.
Like everybody else I live in a world of rampant insanity. Daily I am bombarded with images of death, corruption, war and natural disasters on television. The media-induced panic proliferated every hour on the hour keeps me in a constant state of low-grade fear. When will I be
a) struck by a car
b) attacked by terrorists
c) murdered by a psychopath
d) killed by a tidal wave, earthquake, fire, volcano, hurricane?
The odds are strongly in favour of something dreadful happening to me. After all, it happens to other people every single day. It’s a numbers game, surely? I am also subjected to a negative stream of numerically conjured defeatist mottos by well-meaning neighbours, friends and caring family members.
Examples being: the odds of you being successful are zero to none, have you any idea how many other writers are out there, get a normal job and be happy, why should you be different from your Uncle Joe who wrote lots of books that never sold, what makes you think you’re so special, why do you keep persisting when it’s obvious you won’t make it?
And then there’s the worst one of all – You’re too old to succeed now, you’re a failure just accept it.
Is it any wonder my panic triggers are
1) loud noises
2) silence
3) ticking clocks
4) low rumbling sounds
5) waking up each day
6) the news jingle
7) a ringing phone
8) checking my emails
Get the picture? EVERYTHING is a trigger because I have been indoctrinated into a belief that I live in a dangerous world full of psychopaths and terrorists and only the lucky few succeed by virtue of nepotism, genius or a lottery win.
No bloody wonder I’m depressed.
No bloody wonder I’m anxious.
No bloody wonder I doubt my very right to exist.
Don’t you? It’s all right, I know.
Now let’s return to the farthest reaches of the universe where those quasars are out-pacing light and out-shining galaxies. They are the flotsam jettisoned from a darker force of rampant accumulation – the insatiable and apparently starving black hole, which consumes everything around it – ingesting and hording entire galaxies for its own sustenance. The black hole regards its surrounding magnificence – stars, planets, comets and light – as its due and raids freely. Black holes are at the heart of almost every galaxy. They will be their destruction. However, before the greedy sucker gluts the feast we are treated to a stream of exuberant light that outpaces anything known. The by-product of rampant consumerism is exquisite apposite light. I would posit that this insane consumption is fear-based. I would also posit that society has a black hole mentality. The super-rich amass more than they can consume in a lifetime and are lauded as high achievers. While the poor are dismissed as losers. Do we feel inadequate by comparison? We’re supposed to.
People who do well are generally regarded as successful.
People who own nothing and have low-paying jobs are generally regarded as losers.
Van Gogh and Mozart were both losers by that measure. And yet they sang their songs out loud and shone spectacularly brightly. We still admire the light they left behind.
In fact, when the dust of past civilisations settles, art, music and literature is all the light we see. So bright is this by-product of consumption that it defines the culture it outshone. Galleries, bookshelves, walls and minds are illuminated by Art, Thought, Wisdom and Love.
These are the values we acquire at a distance but the progenitors suffer the pangs of non-acceptance at close range. In our own time those of us who are different are crazy – mad with excitement and perplexity as we follow the uncharted paths of pure imagination.
Not everyone is born with genius but rest assured it is acquired at the apex of the road less travelled.
Wendy Waters
Author Catch the Moon, Mary”