Jane L. Cranmer's Blog
May 21, 2014
Free book promotion on Amazon kindle
Well end of day 1 and I'm at No1 n the category for Angels and bizarrely at No2 for spirituality... just behind the Bible lol!
Get your FREE kindle copy of Ancestors and Angels
Hi everyone, just to let you know that from the 21st to 25th May 2014...NOW... my book "Ancestors and Angels" is out on a FREE promotion through Amazon. Just click on the link and you should be able to access this and get your FREE download.
Please let everyone you know, know about this... after all, it's not often I get the chance to give a limitless number of books away and I want everyone who wants it to get it!
Thanks xxx
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ancestors-Ang...Ancestors and Angels
Please let everyone you know, know about this... after all, it's not often I get the chance to give a limitless number of books away and I want everyone who wants it to get it!
Thanks xxx
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ancestors-Ang...Ancestors and Angels
December 7, 2013
So excited!!!
Just learnt that "Ancestors and Angels" has been recommended in "The Guardian", one of 34 books chosen out of 3347 indie authors! So thrilled!Ancestors & Angels
October 24, 2013
Doorways to the other side...
I was recalling something this morning, a passage I want to write about in the second book, and it involved a certain feeling I get sometimes when a "doorway" opens.
Helpfully, right at that moment "someone" opened it up for me so that I could recall and describe it.
When the veil between the two worlds gets thin, and at certain times and in certain places it always does... Maternity Units and Deathbeds being the places that most come to mind, then I can feel the other world pulling on me, it's a bit like when the doors blow off an aircraft, a type of suction, but much subtler, I'm in no danger of being dragged through!
The pull is located between the heart chakra and solar plexus chakra, as if both go into overdrive suddenly. A bit like butterflies in the stomach but ten times stronger.
It is when I most make use of my gift of clairsentience, which is the gift of clear feeling as opposed to clairaudience and clairvoyance which are clear hearing and sight.
Anyway, as I was sitting there, deliciously revelling in this sensation, my dog, who was sleeping on the settee woke up and looked at me... then above me and to the side, to whoever had opened the doorway for me. You can tell he is used to things like this happening fairly frequently because he just looked at them for a second or two, let out a contented huff, and went back to sleep!
Meanwhile a secondary phase kicked in, although the room was warm as I had put the central heating on, suddenly around me the temperature plummeted, the hairs on my arms stood up, not in a scary kind of way, it was very exciting.
Someone explained to me that this was to do with the vibrational difference between the two worlds, which is why whenever a place is thought to be haunted you hear of "cold spots". It is a vortex created where the veil is thinnest. There is not generally a vortex in my Living Room, but this guide was demonstrating the answer to my question.
Then, once my curiosity was satisfied, it closed again, the room was warm once more, and the butterflies in my stomach stopped.
I was left just sitting there with a huge grin on my face.
Helpfully, right at that moment "someone" opened it up for me so that I could recall and describe it.
When the veil between the two worlds gets thin, and at certain times and in certain places it always does... Maternity Units and Deathbeds being the places that most come to mind, then I can feel the other world pulling on me, it's a bit like when the doors blow off an aircraft, a type of suction, but much subtler, I'm in no danger of being dragged through!
The pull is located between the heart chakra and solar plexus chakra, as if both go into overdrive suddenly. A bit like butterflies in the stomach but ten times stronger.
It is when I most make use of my gift of clairsentience, which is the gift of clear feeling as opposed to clairaudience and clairvoyance which are clear hearing and sight.
Anyway, as I was sitting there, deliciously revelling in this sensation, my dog, who was sleeping on the settee woke up and looked at me... then above me and to the side, to whoever had opened the doorway for me. You can tell he is used to things like this happening fairly frequently because he just looked at them for a second or two, let out a contented huff, and went back to sleep!
Meanwhile a secondary phase kicked in, although the room was warm as I had put the central heating on, suddenly around me the temperature plummeted, the hairs on my arms stood up, not in a scary kind of way, it was very exciting.
Someone explained to me that this was to do with the vibrational difference between the two worlds, which is why whenever a place is thought to be haunted you hear of "cold spots". It is a vortex created where the veil is thinnest. There is not generally a vortex in my Living Room, but this guide was demonstrating the answer to my question.
Then, once my curiosity was satisfied, it closed again, the room was warm once more, and the butterflies in my stomach stopped.
I was left just sitting there with a huge grin on my face.
October 13, 2013
Embracing Middle-aged-ness...
It's one of those defining moments when you find yourself cheerfully "Febreezing" a bed whose contents are currently swishing about on a boil wash, whilst smiling contentedly at the fact you have just stocked up (at a pound shop naturally) on various domestic cleaning products and bathroom accoutrements (that's bubble bath, shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel if you want to get technical), whilst cheerfully contemplating giving the Living Room a right good "fettle" before laying a fire in the hearth.
It makes you wonder when contemplating piercing your navel became just plain old contemplation of your navel, and at what point you accidentally walked onto the set of a Seventies sit-com that now seems to have become your day-to-day life.
Thinking about various scenarios and conversations where you could have removed my husband and I and successfully transplanted Terry and June, or even more likely Sid James and his scatty red-headed wife, and no-one would have noticed a skip in the dialogue!
When did I become middle-aged, mumsy and delightfully ditsy? And when did he become grumpy, pessimistic and generally curmudgeonly on an everyday basis? (Hmm, my diary seems to suggest that might have always been the case, but both of us wore jeans more often and a lot of black which helped to hide the fact!)
You see, here's the thing... I kind of like it.
I know I'm supposed to kick up a fuss and go and get my face peeled, or my head boiled, or botox injections, or suck lard out of my arse to transplant into my cheeks or something. But I don't feel the need.
I'm not ready to rage against the dying of the light as I'm kind of curious what's occurring in the twilight if you get my drift?
I don't mind slobbing about in my dressing gown, curling up with a good book, eating TV dinners, or going out without my face on... if it frightens the teenagers then good! Something ought to and very little does
I think what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't matter over much what age we are, we should enjoy it and dive in to whatever it entails.
Coming up in a few years time, the challenges of a wardrobe made up entirely of beige slacks and pleats, tight curly perms, purple rinses and lots of growing old disgracefully.
Bring it on I say
It makes you wonder when contemplating piercing your navel became just plain old contemplation of your navel, and at what point you accidentally walked onto the set of a Seventies sit-com that now seems to have become your day-to-day life.
Thinking about various scenarios and conversations where you could have removed my husband and I and successfully transplanted Terry and June, or even more likely Sid James and his scatty red-headed wife, and no-one would have noticed a skip in the dialogue!
When did I become middle-aged, mumsy and delightfully ditsy? And when did he become grumpy, pessimistic and generally curmudgeonly on an everyday basis? (Hmm, my diary seems to suggest that might have always been the case, but both of us wore jeans more often and a lot of black which helped to hide the fact!)
You see, here's the thing... I kind of like it.
I know I'm supposed to kick up a fuss and go and get my face peeled, or my head boiled, or botox injections, or suck lard out of my arse to transplant into my cheeks or something. But I don't feel the need.
I'm not ready to rage against the dying of the light as I'm kind of curious what's occurring in the twilight if you get my drift?
I don't mind slobbing about in my dressing gown, curling up with a good book, eating TV dinners, or going out without my face on... if it frightens the teenagers then good! Something ought to and very little does
I think what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't matter over much what age we are, we should enjoy it and dive in to whatever it entails.
Coming up in a few years time, the challenges of a wardrobe made up entirely of beige slacks and pleats, tight curly perms, purple rinses and lots of growing old disgracefully.
Bring it on I say
September 22, 2013
Voices in the night
Jane Cranmer, Author of Ancestors & Angels
People assume when you hear voices, assuming you are not actually ill, then it must be a scary experience.
I have been hearing voices on and off all my life, I can assure you it is not remotely scary.
When I was a child and I asked my Aunty Mary about the voices I was given two explanations, either the voice that guided me was my "conscience" or it was the product of a good imagination. I accepted this quite happily as children do, I omitted to point out that one of the voices belonged to a girl called Jenny who was older than me and only appeared in my Nana's mirror!
I went along with the imagination thing for years, after all, we all hear our own voice in our head all the time, one or two more thrown in didn't seem to make much difference.
It wasn't till many years later and lots of very bizarre experiences, that I began to accept the voices might actually belong to beings outside myself. I came to this conclusion after several instances of being told things by the voices that then went on to happen.
Eventually the voices began to separate out and become distinguishable as Spirit Guides, Angels, and most precious of all, family members thought long gone.
Amongst the voices that were loudest and most persistent was/is that of my mothers. Never a shy and retiring wallflower in life, her wild exuberance persists from the other side. If there is a message that needs to get through she is the woman to do it.
It was she who persuaded me to write my first book and told me what it should be about.
"What will I write about?" I agonised, I wasn't sure I had a story left in me!
"Write about me!" she chimed in loud and clear in my head.
"What about you?" It made me laugh that even having been dead for twenty odd years her vanity was apparently still intact.
"Well, don't you think the fact we're having this conversation at all makes for an interesting story?"
She had a point there!
Of course writing your first book (or your second or third for that matter) is never quite what you expect it to be.
Writing can be a long, lonely and laborious labour of love. (Try saying that after a few vodka and cokes!)
I needed the odd boost to my confidence, I needed people who believed in me and what I was doing (apart from a small handful of supporters most people obviously thought I was nuts but were too polite to say... not just giving up the day job to write a book, but then when they heard what the book was about...)
My Mum would find ways to nudge me on... well, I say nudge, it was more of a prod really.
For instance, one night I was awakened from a rather deep sleep by the sensation of a gentle tapping on the shoulder which became more of a dig in the ribs until I opened my eyes.
"Put the radio on!" Her voice in my head, repeated persistently, until bleary eyed I complied, reaching out and pressing the button on the clock radio.
A song came on that I associated with her.
"Thank you Mother, very clever..." I mumbled nodding off again. Another dig in the ribs jolted me awake, the news had come on, rattling on about Tony Blair and a Four Million pound book deal.
"Yeah right..." Giggling as I dozed off. The radio turned itself off after an hour, but I was hard and fast in the land of nod by then.
Until...
The next morning she was back, tapping on my shoulder and telling me once again to "Put the radio on!"
"Oh for goodness sake!" But I complied.
Just as the Beatles started to belt out "Paperback Writer" !
Of course I had to smile, message received loud and clear mother.
No, the voices aren't scary. They are warm and wonderful and helpful and supportive... and a damn nuisance if you are trying to get a good nights sleep!
People assume when you hear voices, assuming you are not actually ill, then it must be a scary experience.
I have been hearing voices on and off all my life, I can assure you it is not remotely scary.
When I was a child and I asked my Aunty Mary about the voices I was given two explanations, either the voice that guided me was my "conscience" or it was the product of a good imagination. I accepted this quite happily as children do, I omitted to point out that one of the voices belonged to a girl called Jenny who was older than me and only appeared in my Nana's mirror!
I went along with the imagination thing for years, after all, we all hear our own voice in our head all the time, one or two more thrown in didn't seem to make much difference.
It wasn't till many years later and lots of very bizarre experiences, that I began to accept the voices might actually belong to beings outside myself. I came to this conclusion after several instances of being told things by the voices that then went on to happen.
Eventually the voices began to separate out and become distinguishable as Spirit Guides, Angels, and most precious of all, family members thought long gone.
Amongst the voices that were loudest and most persistent was/is that of my mothers. Never a shy and retiring wallflower in life, her wild exuberance persists from the other side. If there is a message that needs to get through she is the woman to do it.
It was she who persuaded me to write my first book and told me what it should be about.
"What will I write about?" I agonised, I wasn't sure I had a story left in me!
"Write about me!" she chimed in loud and clear in my head.
"What about you?" It made me laugh that even having been dead for twenty odd years her vanity was apparently still intact.
"Well, don't you think the fact we're having this conversation at all makes for an interesting story?"
She had a point there!
Of course writing your first book (or your second or third for that matter) is never quite what you expect it to be.
Writing can be a long, lonely and laborious labour of love. (Try saying that after a few vodka and cokes!)
I needed the odd boost to my confidence, I needed people who believed in me and what I was doing (apart from a small handful of supporters most people obviously thought I was nuts but were too polite to say... not just giving up the day job to write a book, but then when they heard what the book was about...)
My Mum would find ways to nudge me on... well, I say nudge, it was more of a prod really.
For instance, one night I was awakened from a rather deep sleep by the sensation of a gentle tapping on the shoulder which became more of a dig in the ribs until I opened my eyes.
"Put the radio on!" Her voice in my head, repeated persistently, until bleary eyed I complied, reaching out and pressing the button on the clock radio.
A song came on that I associated with her.
"Thank you Mother, very clever..." I mumbled nodding off again. Another dig in the ribs jolted me awake, the news had come on, rattling on about Tony Blair and a Four Million pound book deal.
"Yeah right..." Giggling as I dozed off. The radio turned itself off after an hour, but I was hard and fast in the land of nod by then.
Until...
The next morning she was back, tapping on my shoulder and telling me once again to "Put the radio on!"
"Oh for goodness sake!" But I complied.
Just as the Beatles started to belt out "Paperback Writer" !
Of course I had to smile, message received loud and clear mother.
No, the voices aren't scary. They are warm and wonderful and helpful and supportive... and a damn nuisance if you are trying to get a good nights sleep!
September 19, 2013
Dream visitation
So last night I had a visit from my Dad.
Nothing unusual in that you might think. If you discount him being dead these past three years!
It was something I have come to recognise as a "dream visitation", when the physically deceased person shows up in your dream and has a perfectly logical conversation.
I get them fairly frequently. They differ from the chaos and unpredictability of normal dreams, in that they usually involve just sitting around having a discussion.
Dad looked well, appreciably younger than when he passed (by about twenty years), but he was wearing a jumper I recognised as one of his favourites, a soft yellow pullover that I liked him in because the colour was such an unusual choice for him. We were back in the Living Room of my former home sitting opposite each other on the settees.
The annoying thing is... I don't remember the conversation!
And this is the third one I've had in the past two nights, the night before I'd been chatting to Dad's partner (after Mum passed on) Bet, sitting on a veranda, overlooking the sea, sipping cocktails, and prior to Dad showing up I'd been chatting to my Mother-in-Law, Dolly.
Three conversations, and all I recollect is a vague discussion on how well they all looked, something to do with Mark and I thinking of moving and pleasantries about the kids!
So whatever gem of information they had for me, we must assume it's safely stored in my subconscious for later!
I don't mind, it was wonderful to see them all anyway
Nothing unusual in that you might think. If you discount him being dead these past three years!
It was something I have come to recognise as a "dream visitation", when the physically deceased person shows up in your dream and has a perfectly logical conversation.
I get them fairly frequently. They differ from the chaos and unpredictability of normal dreams, in that they usually involve just sitting around having a discussion.
Dad looked well, appreciably younger than when he passed (by about twenty years), but he was wearing a jumper I recognised as one of his favourites, a soft yellow pullover that I liked him in because the colour was such an unusual choice for him. We were back in the Living Room of my former home sitting opposite each other on the settees.
The annoying thing is... I don't remember the conversation!
And this is the third one I've had in the past two nights, the night before I'd been chatting to Dad's partner (after Mum passed on) Bet, sitting on a veranda, overlooking the sea, sipping cocktails, and prior to Dad showing up I'd been chatting to my Mother-in-Law, Dolly.
Three conversations, and all I recollect is a vague discussion on how well they all looked, something to do with Mark and I thinking of moving and pleasantries about the kids!
So whatever gem of information they had for me, we must assume it's safely stored in my subconscious for later!
I don't mind, it was wonderful to see them all anyway
September 17, 2013
Kindle Edition
Well, at long last my book came out on Kindle last week. I was amazed when it went straight in at #4 on Amazon's Best seller lists in the Angels category, rising to #2 by the end of the day.
Since then, as every indie author on here will know, the challenge has been to market the book and let everyone know it's out there. Not an easy task, and something most of us don't realise we are signing up for when we write our first book I'm sure!
So, I'll apologise to anyone in advance who has me added through various mediums and who is heartily sick of the sight of my book now. I'm not sure if I'm reaching a whole host of new people or the same five folk, sitting covering their eyes in horror as my book cover pops up again on their screen!
Oh well, onwards and upwards as they say... although it often feels like sideways and maybe just around the bend a little!Ancestors & Angels
Since then, as every indie author on here will know, the challenge has been to market the book and let everyone know it's out there. Not an easy task, and something most of us don't realise we are signing up for when we write our first book I'm sure!
So, I'll apologise to anyone in advance who has me added through various mediums and who is heartily sick of the sight of my book now. I'm not sure if I'm reaching a whole host of new people or the same five folk, sitting covering their eyes in horror as my book cover pops up again on their screen!
Oh well, onwards and upwards as they say... although it often feels like sideways and maybe just around the bend a little!Ancestors & Angels
January 24, 2012
Radio show
Well today I was on radio Leeds talking about Ghosts. They now want me to do an hour long feature on me and my book... so excited!
November 15, 2011
Competition Ended
Well, the "Ancestors and Angels" book giveaway has ended. Congratulations to Guylaine who will be recieving a copy asap!
For any of you interested to hear more about Ancestors and Angels, future competitions or giveaways, why not join me on Facebook too? "Jane Cranmer author of Ancestors and Angels" I would love to see you there.
The book should also be out on Kindle very soon, so watch out for that.
Thankyou all for entering!
Jane x
For any of you interested to hear more about Ancestors and Angels, future competitions or giveaways, why not join me on Facebook too? "Jane Cranmer author of Ancestors and Angels" I would love to see you there.
The book should also be out on Kindle very soon, so watch out for that.
Thankyou all for entering!
Jane x
