“Knickers Abroad; a multiple journey”

After long and careful consideration, I have decided to publish excerpts of “Knickers Abroad; a multiple journey” on my blog as a serial rather than self-publish. It is simply too expensive at this time and there is no interest in the traditional publishing market for this manuscript. It was October 2007 when this journey took place and I am now in a place that is different, yet until I release these words to the world, I feel confined by my expectations.

This is the story of a woman seeking her identity while traveling to London and Paris.

Chapter One: ‘Virgin No More’

Chapter Two: ‘The World is Made of Paper’

Chapter Three: ‘The Voice of Reason’

Chapter Four: ‘Circles Over The City’

Chapter Five: ‘First Day Blurs’

Chapter Six: ‘Delays and Clouds’

Chapter Seven: ‘High Tea and Nuns’

Chapter Eight: ‘Dancing With Dali’

Chapter Nine: ‘On Meeting Our Waterloo’

Chapter Ten: ‘Walkabout dodging merde’

Chapter Eleven: ‘The Poet Laureate of Lesotho’

Chapter Twelve: ‘God Is Hungry’

Chapter Thirteen: ‘Dogs and Guns’

Chapter Fourteen: ‘Les Misérables Curtains Up’

Chapter Fifteen: ‘Shabbat Shalom again’

Chapter Sixteen: ‘Let’s Meet at the Big Spider’

Chapter Seventeen: ‘To Camden Town we did Ride (Before the Fire in February 2008)’

Chapter Eighteen: ‘Farewell to Love’

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5 thoughts on ““Knickers Abroad; a multiple journey”

  1. Rose, I am truly sorry that you are not going to publish Knickers Abroad but truly elated to know that you are going to give your friends a chance to read it. Here is what I’d like to do. I know I can download your story and eventually have a copy for future reading but if I do that, I want to be able to write a check and send it to you for whatever you would charge the reading market should it have ended up on a shelf in Barnes and Noble. I’d like to be the very first person to have “purchased” your book. Otherwise I might find myself forever having a sense of having stolen something that was not mine. Two things were grilled into my head by my parents while I was still a todler: complete honesty in all things. I’m not about to change in my “ripe” old age. Just yesterday, while watching a crime movie, some character referred to a 90 year old murder victim as having reached a “ripe” old age, and I’ll be 90 my next birthday!

  2. Pingback: where do you live? | There Are More Poets than Stars in the Firmament

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