Helen Howell - Letter from a Friend

If there's anybody I'd like to have for tea it's Helen A. Howell.

She has such a lovely, calming, creative presence in my internet world that I just want to reach out and give her a squeeze. It would be a long reach, however. Helen lives in Australia. I live in Canada. It's summertime for her right now, while I'm socked in under January snow. She gets parrots at her birdfeeder. PARROTS! Can you imagine? I get chickadees. We're about as opposite as opposites get but, like all my internet friends, distance and differences dissolve in a melting pot of writerly like-mindedness.

Helen is one of my Friday Flash friends (try saying that three times fast). I started writing flash stories two years ago – I can honestly say it was a pivotal moment in my life. Not only did I discover the joy of writing fiction, I also discovered a circle of people who would become as familiar to me as real-life friends and family. From comments on each other's stories, to chatting on Facebook and Twitter, these folks are on a first name basis with me. All I have to say is, "I was talking to Lou," or, "I got an e-mail from Linda," and my husband knows who I'm talking about. Helen is one of these special people.

Recognize this? ^_^ It's practically Helen's trademark. She sprinkles it everywhere, in her Facebook comments, on her blog, in her letters – it's like a little happy face breadcrumb and if you follow it you will find one of the loveliest, cheeriest, most creative people in this great big world – my friend, Helen.

10th January 2012

My Dear Friend,

Well, here I am on a dull day in January, when it’s supposed to be our summer, yet grey clouds are thrown carelessly across the sky like a discarded blanket. As I look out the window of my office, I see my darling little bird feeding table. It’s in the shape of a house, white roof and red body; it’s always alive with the comings and goings of the feathered kind. I do love my garden and the time I spend in it—an oasis in a busy world.

A lot of my days are spent at the keyboard, penning in the modern way my ideas for stories. I‘ve nearly finished the last lot of edits to my novel. Did I tell you that when I first started writing three and half years ago I jumped in the deep end? Oh yes, I jumped straight in and wrote a novel—a fantasy fiction for children from eight years upwards—it took me twelve months. It is this novel that I am finally polishing.
I began fiction writing at the age of fifty-six and half . I never thought that I could be a writer, let alone write a novel. Yet when I unleashed my imagination, gave it free rein, it surprised me at what I could accomplish. They say the pen is mightier than sword don’t they? It is how one uses those words that creates joy or unhappiness. Words have such strength don’t they? They achieved so much. The thrill of a story; the excitement of an adventure, the sadness of a loss, the cut of a knife. I hope the words I have created in the last three and half years have entertained and brought a smile to the lips of those who read me, or a gasp as I attempt to thrill and chill.

I’ve always been creative and as a child I use to play theatre with my friends. We’d set up a mock stage and perform for anyone willing to watch. Then like all small girls I took ballet classes—little did I know that I would go on to be a ballet teacher. At the age of fifteen I even won a choreography competition, where I also designed the costumes for the dance I created. Such a long time ago now, it almost seems like it was another life.

In my late thirties I took up watercolour painting. I loved the feel of being able to create pictures with the stroke of a brush . I guess I was more impressionist than realist and I went on to follow that pursuit for over 18 years and exhibiting my work at various art shows. Painting, I think, is a lot like writing. You start with a blank piece of paper, it holds so much potential, promise and as you make the first stroke the picture begins to reveal itself. One is pulling together a vision and transforming it into a reality. In my 'about me' on my writing blog, I wrote: “Writing for me is like painting pictures with words. It is an expression of thought, feeling and imagination all drawn together to form one glorious vision of an initial idea.”

Now having recounted my creative endeavours from early childhood onwards, I wonder why I thought I could never write?

There is one thing I would also loved to have been able to do—sing. Yes, of course I can sing, but not necessarily in tune! I marvel at those who possess amazing voices and think it would be so splendid to have been one of them. Nevertheless, I have been blessed with certain gifts of creativity and I should not discount those things that I can achieve.

Oh I don’t think that I ever mentioned to you that I use to read tarot professionally — Madam Helen delves into the future - well stumbles around a bit ^_^. I say use to, because late last year I retired from professional reading and also as the co-author of the blog Tarot Notes Major and Minor—my ex tarot partner now runs it herself. I have had a love of tarot that spans thirty plus years, and I never cease to be amazed at how these little pieces of cardboard can get to the root of a problem. Is it the cards or is it the reader that holds the magic? I’ll leave you to decide that one.

Oh look, I’ve babbled on for such a long time, but I do hope that you will have enjoyed reading this and perhaps feel that you have got to know me just a little better. Right, back to those edits or that book will never be finished!

With fondest regards,

Helen A. Howell