In a world
We thought we knew
They changed the goal
And what was true
How could I know
What they would do
They changed the world
In which I grew

(c) K Wicks
Rhyme and Reason
In a world
We thought we knew
They changed the goal
And what was true
How could I know
What they would do
They changed the world
In which I grew

(c) K Wicks
Rhyme and Reason
I’m not sure if I had known it would have made a difference, but after I had almost completed my first publishing project I was made aware of other family members who were successful in the field of writing. I had wanted to write since I was six years old, and did, short stories and projects that made me feel satisfied and content. I did not always have support with these stories, often told my reading and writing of horror were a waste of time, I should be reading educational material or at least the classics. They did not entertain me at the time, so I chose horror, or sometimes I think horror chose me.
But my passion for writing continued and after a number of years immersed only in work, the need to write took over. The book was pretty much writing itself in my head so I thought I best put pen to paper (or open a new word file on the computer as is the way these days). Only when it was in the finishing stages of editing did I dare tell my closest family, my grandparents. They are well read people and I was so nervous about what they would think, but I gave them my manuscript and waited.
I hadn’t really comprehended how much their approval meant to me until they gave it. It was the green light I had been waiting for without even realizing it, to have the most critical people I knew pass me as acceptable or at least as having potential. It made my day. But then followed the reveal, did I know, he said, that multiple family members were published including my great uncle, for doing a play script which is still used today of Treasure Island, and my great aunt and her husband, both authors and he having been a journalist and correspondent for a very well heard of paper for years. Even my uncle had published a book.
For a moment I wasn’t sure what this meant, am I now expected to be a successful author like other members of the family, or was it just encouragement to show me it can be done. Either way, I then had to work out exactly who’s expectation was I really trying to live up to, theirs, or mine?…

(c) MKW Publishing
I’m not sure if everyone was prone to accidents when they were a child, I was sort of a tomboy and liked getting into it and giving it a go, which given my lack of awareness and balance, often led to some comedic accidents.
One of which I will share as it still amuses me very much to this day. As the title suggests, it does indeed involve a hay bale. So, I am 12 at the time, I lived in Hampshire as part of an army camp but not a restricted one. Squaddie brat was the term for us kids of the military folk and I think I lived up to the name quite well. We used to have to find things to occupy ourselves outside of school as all children do. During the school holidays the army were very good at providing activities and schemes for us while parents still had to work. These would include shooting, swimming, PT and other things. But the rest of the time, we were mostly out and about and sometimes up to no good.
We were lucky enough to be surrounded by lots of countryside, fields and woods and as much adventuring as we could fit it. But come the late summer we had lots of large round hay bales begin to appear in the field out the back of our estate. A game was devised, or trick if you will. Here it was, push the one ton hay bale down the slight hill, once it picked up a bit of momemtum, grab onto the netting covering said hay bale, hook your fingers into it and get pulled over with the now moving bale. The trick being a crafty leg swing as you are pulled over the top, and releasing your fingers at the same time. Which all going well, puts you in front of the hay bale, on your feet while it now picks up speed down to the bottom of the field.
The principle was simple, and I see two of my friends complete this seemingly new manoeuvre without any issue or hesitation. I know what must be done and take my turn. But what I didn’t factor into this, was my lack of skill and co-ordination. I did not lack bravery or willing when I was younger, but as I got older the evidence became clear that I lacked skill, and this is what kept leading me into injury.
So, I stepped up to my hay bale and gave it a push, both hands in front of me starting the motion, I chose my moment to grip onto the plastic netting and was instantly pulled upwards towards the top. I swung my legs round as best I could planning the same smooth stunt I had witnessed, but something went wrong. My fingers didn’t unwrap from the netting, my legs didn’t quite go all the way round, and instead of jumping in front of it, I went with it. Imagine a steam roller made of hay with a person on it. That’s what happened. I went straight over the front of it and then proceeded to be crushed by it. Luckily only having some bruises and cuts on my face and a sore rib cage. I had to go home to my mother and explain why I had odd scratches and bruises down one side of my face. She laughed, a lot, so did the rest of the family.
I would like to say that was a one off, an isolated incident, but I would be lying. My younger years really were filled with a number of mishaps…

(c) K Wicks
Its difficult to define what it is when someone may ask or say to you –
“Why do you look so sad” or “You have sad eyes”.
You can only use the answer, but that’s just my face for so long before you really start to wonder what everyone else sees. I do not try to hide my melancholy most of the time, I am both happy and sad so can be smiling and enjoying what I am saying, doing, or seeing. And then can remember everything else. My face is a mere snapshot of what is going on in mind.
As I get older though I begin to understand. What came before can follow you and make you feel as though the weight of the world has become too heavy a burden. And it can show. I had this feeling as a teenager and it has followed me all the way through. Maybe there are many of us burdened by life and ourselves but making the best of it, just muddling through and trying to find a bit of calm in all the madness…

(c) K Wicks
Just why is it
Quite is so hard
To keep your head
Don’t drop your guard
The living dead
Surround my soul
I need to remember
Life takes its toll
I will be fine
Just need to vent
About my rage
Of years I’ve spent
Of my mistakes
I never meant
To understand
My mind is bent

(c) K Wicks
Rhyme and Reason
If sometimes life
Throws you a curve
From where you stand
You should observe
Where you are
And where you’ve been
What is your purpose?
What does it mean?
It could be relevant…

(c) K Wicks writer and photographer
Rhyme and Reason
Around a decade ago, I found my way to setting up and running a local blues record label. I did this as a hobby business after I had set up my accounts company, I had spent the time needed to make it successful and employ a number of people so I could do other things. These other things turned out to be wasting my time on other people. I was surrounded by musicians and thought maybe if someone could pull together the admin side and help guide their creativity, it might just work.

I laugh now at my misplaced optimism. Organising people and their dreams isn’t the easiest thing to do, and given the choice knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t do it differently. I wouldn’t do it at all. It was many (way too many) hours of my own time for which I have nothing to show apart from this one CD left from the label launch. The lesson for me being, not all creative people actually want to do anything with their talent, if they have any. My motivation was better used for myself and my own dreams. Maybe I was just to afraid to push myself and it was easier to try and push others? There were moments where it was fun, but mostly just a lot of hassle.

Although after I stopped helping other people, I wrote a few blues songs myself and recorded one of them A Capella (by this time I had had enough of musicians). I love music and what can be done but it isn’t my dream. One of my favourite films is still The Blues Brothers and it’s probably my favourite genre. I concentrate on my writing and publishing now and running my bookkeeping business.
So far I have published two books of poetry, three novels, a book of short stories, two colouring books and just recently my first non fiction book. Writing and publishing my own books has been my dream since I was 6, so now I am finally doing it, I think I will just keep going. There is so much more to be written.
We have a lot of rainy days in England. Sometimes it makes me look out of the window and remember being stuck inside during holidays or weekends. But not in a bad way, most people moan about the weather for that, but for me it gave me a chance to do indoor things. For tv and movies, baking, embroidery, drawing, reading and all the other things I found to do. So rainy days for me usually mean getting stuff done.

(c) K Wicks photographer
I had been panicking about my career from a very young age. I had a list of jobs I wanted by the age of ten, most of them unattainable, but it didn’t stop me dreaming of working – not sure if other children do such a thing. I do think this was partly influenced by family, my mother didn’t have a very good job although worked a lot and my real father was a drop out, so my grandparents really drummed it into me about succeeding. It was all about prospects, what you bring to the table, what you can offer and what you can achieve. I do sometimes have a rather antiquated attitude and understanding for someone my age, but I took it all in. Everything they taught me from a bygone age and attitude. I’m grateful for it though as it has given me a unique perspective on things.
In all my planning of my future of being a grown up, I had conveniently overlooked one thing, becoming a grown up. It was tough and after a series of upheavals and difficulties, my plan was derailed. I had to drop out of school, I was struggling massively to re-adjust to yet another school and couldn’t find myself. I was given a state appointed tutor for my compulsory education for three hours a week at home, which I must say, was minimal. I already knew what I needed to though, so it was adequate for it’s purpose. I was one of many, I didn’t expect the education board to notice me or care, why should they? I ended my education with nothing to show for it, and the psychological repercussions of that is what initially destroyed me, then probably what drove me on. I had already failed, so what could be worse?
What followed was nearly a decade of trying to make up for it, while also still trying to navigate life which often got in the way. I had focus and a belief in myself though that didn’t require anyone else’s input. I stopped getting praise in my adult life, I had no parents after eighteen and went off the rails in the view of my grandparents, so was left to my own devices for a couple of years and had to be able to be proud of myself. I wasn’t quite measuring up to the family standard, which had already slipped one generation before me. I had the gift of the gab back then though and worked round my lack of formal education, often doing jobs better than people with qualifications. I realised then that the system was a bit of a con, that I hadn’t needed to go to college and university to do well at all. As I got older I knew plenty of people who went, and had nothing to show for it apart from a large debt and an inflated sense of employability. Something I only learnt from experience, how could I have known that then.
One of my jobs that I think taught me the most, was working in a recruitment agency. I had worked for them before as a temp, doing cleaning work, catering assistant and factory work, but this time I was behind the counter. I liked that job very much, but not because of what it was or who it was for. What I started to see were people, with very different situations in need of work, although not all of them were willing to. I happened to be there at a time when the EU opened it’s doors to more countries and we had an influx of foreign workers, mostly Polish who came to our town. Years later I have heard people moan about how they ‘came and stole our jobs’ but the reality was different from where I sat. They took the jobs no-one else wanted to do.
Most of these Polish had very limited English skills but a work ethic that outshone the locals when it came to manual work and labour. We struggled to fill the jobs for bin men and cleaners, for factory workers and fruit pickers. Our college leavers and graduates felt that work was beneath them, and they weren’t afraid to say it.
“I’ve got a degree! I won’t work for £8.00ph!”
I nearly laughed my head off when someone said that to me. Maybe because I was working my way up or maybe because I understood about hard times and appreciating opportunities. Either way, that attitude was not unique, and not restricted to graduates. I always thought a job was a job and if you need to pay the bills, I was proud to be able to pay my way. Have standards by all means, just make them realistic. Soon though those Polish workers became locals themselves and I moved on. I didn’t want my career to be based on people being reliable (because they aren’t), recruitment was not for me. It did however, show me how much people were willing to pay for finance work and I started to realise that is what all businesses have in common, so used my initiative. I booked myself on an evening course at the local college for computerized accounting and made myself look better on paper. It’s all very well being good at talking, but you must be able to get to the talky bit.
It was also just good timing that I handed in my notice with no job to go to, with just a good feeling to go on. Finding a new position as an accounts manager within a couple of weeks and getting on the finance ladder. Very soon though it became clear to me that my standards exceeded those of who I worked for, so self-employment seemed the only route. I was driven, obsessive, love paperwork, am meticulous and can work to my own deadlines – it really was a no brainer. I kept studying for the first five years, doing home learning and exams while growing the business and keeping house.
Working for me is important, it keeps my brain active and focused. Knowing you are part of the bigger picture and participating, paying your way and getting by. But that’s what we are taught to believe isn’t it? That we should be finding our place in society and fitting in. Work, work, work till you are almost dead, then have time off. I really have taken that to heart unfortunately and in the last few years have had to find a bit of balance. With a bit of time and perspective you can often think differently. I understand they need us to work, if we don’t they can’t take your tax, apparently nothing will get done and we will all lose our minds to boredom. The system is not broken, it is how it is meant to be. Capitalism at its finest…

(c) K Wicks Photographer
Another excerpt from my upcoming WIP.
Society alone can give you anxiety, a stressful home life or working environment can trigger these emotions and feelings too. If on the way through your life though, what if you didn’t get the necessary experience to understand how to cope or know what was going on.
What if you didn’t ever develop coping mechanisms or recognise what might be a weakness in yourself or potential strength? Then how can you hope to make it easier for yourself and work through it? This is the type of question I ask myself, then go to work trying to unravel what it really means. I also know you don’t have to have had a dysfunctional life to feel anxiety, it can happen to anyone, but it definitely makes the path a bit harder…

(c) K Wicks photographer