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rank 808
word count 47832
date submitted 08.07.2010
date updated 21.11.2010
genres: Non-fiction, Biography, Harper True...
classification: moderate

The Temple Dancer

Eunice Attwood

The story of my development as a medium/clairvoyant, from the early days when I suffered from depression and mental health issues, to the present day.


As a child I saw and heard spirits, and knew things a normal child could not have possible known.
After many years of terrifying experiences, I suffered a mental breakdown. I had no-one to help me as my mother told me I was just imagining things. I became very isolated and lonely as a child and grew up thinking I was insane. In my late twenties - during the breakdown, I began floating out of my body and came under attack from unwanted entities.
A friend took me to a spiritualist church where I saw spirits standing around the room, and felt like I had come home.
Over the last thirty years my clientele has grown significantly, with clients from over 35 countries coming to see me for help. I became more deeply involved with mysticism as years went by, with a strong desire to know God and the progress of the soul. This is now my main focus, rather than spiritualism. The Temple Dancer is the story of my life thus far.

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Chapter One


I stood on the back of the large truck belonging to my friend Marilyn’s father. It was parked in what I perceived to be at the time, a huge shed. I paused for a moment, as an inner voice told me that a large hare would soon appear from around the bend, and over the brow of the hill that led from the town centre. It would dash past me at great speed and disappear up the hill and into the distance. I didn’t understand how I knew this would happen - just that it would.

I was about seven or eight years old and lived in the small town of Waiuku. Marilyn - or Maz, as we called her, was my best friend at the time. I loved going to her house. She came from a large family, having six sisters and one brother. They lived next to a park, which gave us ample room to play, so we had many fun times together.

On this particular afternoon, we had climbed up on the tray of her father’s truck to play, when I had the strange experience - or premonition, about the hare. I had never seen a hare before, but I knew the animal in my vision wasn’t a rabbit, it was far too big for that.

Within moments I heard a scurrying noise as the hare came into sight. It was going hell for leather on the tar-sealed road, and was about the size of a small dog. To my young eyes it seemed to be doing a hundred miles an hour. It was not the place one would expect to see such an animal. It had come from the direction of town, and headed out into the country area. Not the other way round as one would expect.

In that instance, my mind was also racing, as the hare carried on up the road and disappeared around another bend. What had just happened? I looked at my friends but they seemed oblivious as to what had just occurred. They had seen the hare, but how could I tell them that I knew it was going to be there. For a moment I felt like I was out of my body, it was such a surreal feeling. It was like tripping into another dimension and back. I stood there with my mouth agape, knowing I couldn’t tell another soul about the experience. My mother would certainly never believe me, and I didn’t want my friends to think I was weird, so I just put the experience behind me and didn’t think about it again for many years, after recovering from the initial shock. This was just the beginning of a life time of strange experiences.

I must have been about seven when most of my experiences began - maybe they began earlier, I don’t remember. It is possible that my conscious mind can only remember that far back.

I remember our dog Whisky, a lovely black and white terrier/spaniel cross, waking me up one night, trying to claw her way under my bedcovers and whining loudly. She was in a state of panic.

“Stop it girl!” I scolded. “I’m trying to sleep.”

But she persisted in whining and crying, while pawing at my bed. I sat up to see what was disturbing her, but what I witnessed, almost made my blood run cold. There between my bed and the door, was a little girl floating in mid air. She had lovely blonde hair with a large white ribbon on one side of her head. The strange thing was - only her head and shoulders appeared to me, floating a few feet above the floor, so I knew she couldn’t be a living person.

I rubbed my eyes and dared myself to take another peek, but there she was, still was floating before my eyes with a smile on her pretty face. I became terrified, and kept on rubbing my eyes hoping she would go away. But no, there she stayed, smiling sweetly at me.

Whisky became even more distressed, so I screamed for my mother to come and rescue me. She called back, telling me that I was just dreaming and to go to sleep. She usually dismissed my experiences as being just an over active imagination. This time I kept on screaming. I knew by my dog’s behaviour, that she too, could see this unworldly apparition.

Eventually the girl disappeared and I tore into my mother’s bed. I often ended up sleeping in her big bed, as my father was a baker who worked every night - except on Fridays and Saturdays. Sometimes I would lay awake waiting for him to leave the house, so I could sneak into their big bed. I felt much safer there, and nothing spooky seemed to happen after I snuggled under the blankets with my mum.

The odd thing about the girl in my room was, that I’d seen her in a dream earlier in the evening. I’d been playing with her in the garden, and we were having a wonderful time, but when she was still there after I awoke, I became frightened. I believe now, I was with her during an out-of-the-body experience.

The house where we lived in France Street terrified me. I am not sure to this day whether it was haunted, or whether it was because I was seven years old and just attracting these things to myself. Seven is the number of spirit, and in ancient cultures, children born under a seven vibration were put in religious orders to train as monks. However, the age seven is very significant, particularly for a child who is a seven day born such as myself. It can often trigger psychic phenomena and strange dreams, illnesses etc. I have worked as a numerologist for more than thirty years, and have often seen these events occur with other 7 day born children. (Children born on the 7th, 16th, or 25th.  To clarify: 1+6=7, 2+5=7).

Having a destiny number of eleven was significant for me. (This is found by the numerological value of the entire name). This number can produce great psychic ability, and anyone having this number in such a position, probably will end up teaching at some point in their life.

So many children I come across these days, seem to have an abundance of the sacred numbers, and I know how terrifying it can be, especially when no-one listens to them, or takes the time to understand.

My own childhood was very frightening at times, as psychic phenomena was a fairly common thing for me. Having no-one to explain things left me feeling desolate, and isolated, most of the time. I always felt ‘different’, but never understood why - which is common to ‘seven’ people.

I wondered why I could not just be normal like other people. 

It was one Friday evening while my parents were still at the bakery working, when a frightening event occurred. My mother worked in our shop, while Dad baked the bread in his bakery just across an alley-way between the two buildings. My older brother David must have been at a friend’s house. I was alone in the house with Whisky as darkness fell - from memory it was about seven o’clock. Suddenly, I felt my blood curdle, as footsteps came from my brother’s room at the front of the house. The footsteps were very loud, as whoever was making them moved backwards and forwards in the empty room. The room was un-carpeted and it was obvious that something - or someone was in there, as the footsteps fell heavily upon the bare wooden floor. David was still not home - I would have had to unlock the door to let him in.

Once again, Whisky started going berserk, tearing around the room in circles in a terrified manner. Eventually she tried to claw her way out of the back door. I felt the hair on the back of my neck start to rise as goose-bumps formed all over my body. The heavy footsteps got louder. I don’t think I have ever been as terrified as I was at that moment, especially being all alone in the house. I knew my parents wouldn’t be much longer, but I couldn’t wait. I ran to the back door and unlocked it. Whisky and I fell over each other trying to get out of the place in terror. I don’t remember where she went, but I grabbed my bike - which had no light, and headed off into the darkness towards town and the sanctuary of my parents bakery. It was hard to see where I was going, and I hit a bank at the end of the path and fell off the bike.

Undeterred, I climbed back on and kept going, arriving at the bakery cut and bleeding - once again to be told I had a vivid imagination. I know what I heard, and Whisky certainly felt something was amiss. They say dogs and children have a sixth sense. Whisky was like my own ‘spook meter’ - if she sensed what I was sensing simultaneously – it couldn’t have been my imagination.

My mother was a very down to earth person, and considered delving into the unknown as being ‘unhealthy.’ My father was a bit more open minded on the subject, but he worked such long hours and slept during most of the day, so I rarely got to talk about such things with him.

My father saw a white figure standing in our garden late one night on his way to work. Mum dismissed it, saying it must have been a neighbour - who was a bit odd, out for a walk in his Long Johns. I believe otherwise.

I was always afraid to go into our garage to get my bike. I felt something was not right in there, and the energy was always cold. There were many trees at the bottom of our garden which cast foreboding shadows. I felt okay being amongst them during the day, but would avoid the area if dusk was falling. Beyond the trees lay a field and the local cemetery. I was fascinated whenever a funeral was taking place, asking my parents endless questions about death and dying, which to my mind were never satisfactorily answered. I would watch over the back fence and wonder what had become of the poor soul being buried.

I asked my mother if Marilyn and I could have a picnic lunch packed on one particular day. She obliged, and my friend and I went to the cemetery for a picnic. I remember vividly, sitting on a grave stone playing my green ukulele while singing to the dearly departed - singing and dancing were my passion. If my mother had known, she would have thought I’d gone completely mad. I felt no fear during daylight hours, it was only when darkness fell that terror set in. I was obsessed even back then with death and dying - and what came next.

I became quite ill when I was seven years old. As I arose from my bed one morning, I fell over, hurting myself as I hit the opposite wall. Looking very tired and pale, I was sent off to hospital, which was very traumatic for me. I was diagnosed with pneumonia and kept in for about three weeks. I have since had pneumonia, and there was no similarity at all to the earlier affliction. As usual, I had the doctors stumped. This would be a trend that would follow me throughout my life. I had - yet again, one of those strange, vague illnesses we 7’s tend to get, which remain undiagnosed.

For me, a spell in hospital could be likened to being in a torture chamber, as I was confronted daily with people being sick. This I will speak of later, but to this day, I have a morbid fear of vomiting. When I was first admitted, the doctors had a terrible time putting a spatula down my throat to examine me. It would touch the back of my throat making me gag. I was so afraid of being sick, I fought with every fiber of my being. One by one, more members of the nursing staff came to hold me down. I ended up being held down on the bed by six nurses and an assortment of doctors. My mother thought they were killing me, I created such a din. As for me - I felt helpless and out of control, making my stay in hospital terrifying.

Eventually I was sent home, but being all alone while my mother worked, once again struck fear into my young heart - even though my father slept in the next room, exhausted from his nights work.

The house was old with scrim on the walls, and when the wind blew, the wallpaper would literally move away from the walls, making an eerie sound.

I was sent away to recuperate with acquaintances of my mother. I believe they were relatives of a lady who worked in our shop. However, they were strangers to me, and I felt very apprehensive. On the journey to the beach north of Auckland, one of the other children was sick in the car, which set off a major anxiety attack for me. 

When evening came round, I was to sleep in an old out building - separate from the beach house, with the old grandmother. I huddled up in the old bed in the shabby room, looking at the cobwebs which hung down from the ceilings and walls, wondering what would land on me during the night. I began to sob quietly, feeling desolate and alone. The old lady heard me, but instead of words of comfort and a hug, she told me to stop that nonsense at once, and to stop behaving like a baby. I wanted to curl up and die, or at least go home to my parents. Even the scary old house we lived in was better than this. The remainder of my time there was miserable. I wasn’t allowed to swim because of my illness, so I sat watching while the others romped in the surf having fun, feeling very dejected and afraid. In my mind, I felt like I’d been abandoned, and would never find my way home again.

This may have been the point in time, which triggered feelings of deep loneliness from within me, which would follow me into my latter years. A feeling of never being understood, or that I even mattered at all. Years later I suffered a breakdown - during my late twenties, after experiencing more loneliness in a difficult marriage.

As an adult and parent, I am aware my mother couldn’t have done much else – taking her situation at the time into consideration. She probably thought I would enjoy myself with the other children, but I was not like other children, and never would be. It was only in later years, I would come to enjoy my solitude, and celebrate my uniqueness.

I often hear people say that our childhood years, are the best years of our life. I guess there are a few who can say that with conviction, but in my case, nothing could have been further from the truth. Being a psychic child was like a journey through hell at times, and I was so sensitive to my surroundings and other people, it often made my life a misery - or made me ill. I’m not saying it was always like that - there were wonderful times, especially at Christmas, and the few times the family stayed with friends in Hamilton, or Orua Bay. Because my parents worked long hours in the bakery, those times were few and far between, much to my dismay – and theirs too I would imagine. I am aware however, that they always did their best for me and I am appreciative of the fact.

We emigrated to New Zealand when I was three years old, and my brother eight. It was May 1952, when we left our home in Canvey Island, Essex, to make our way up to Scotland to board the ship that would bring us to this beautiful country. We sailed from Glasgow on the S.S. Captain Cook.

My father was to work for his uncle in Rotorua at his bakery. Dad was an only child, and although he had to leave his elderly mother behind, the wrench was far greater for my mother. She came from a large family of five girls, and three boys. Her mother had passed away when I was only about six months old, and her birth father died when she was only four. She did however, still have her step-father, my granddad Green.

The day we left, all of the family were at the railway station to see us off. As the train pulled away from the platform, I stood on the table between the rows of seats, trying to curtsy gracefully. One of the family had been teaching me how. The train jerked and I lost my balance, falling into the arms of one of my parents. That was the last memory I have of my grandfather, his face, as we went out of his life forever. 

We arrived in Wellington in June 1952, and made our way to Frankton in the Waikato by train. It was the middle of the night, and cold. Having to catch a bus back to Rotorua - which was between the Wellington and Frankton, seemed a strange thing to do, as we had to back track part of the journey, but the immigrant train had been organized, so that’s what was required.

It was a rude shock for my poor mother. She thought she had come to hell. The smell of the sulphur and the earth tremors made her want to catch the next boat back home. For those readers outside of New Zealand, and not familiar with our terrain, Rotorua is a thermal region with steam rising from the vents and drains at the sides of the road. There are boiling mud pools, geysers, and hot springs.

Unfortunately, the smell of sulphur was very strong in the area we lived. There is now a thriving tourist industry in the region, but it was probably not the best area for a homesick new arrival to be deposited in - with two small children, while her husband lived elsewhere.

We lived with my father’s aunt and uncle, but it was a very difficult time. They were not accustomed to having two young children in their home, and I believe there were occasions when differences of opinions arose, making my mother very angry.

We eventually moved into our own place. My poor mother did not find the going very easy. Not only was she homesick, but my father had to work in his uncle’s bakery in Ngongataha, a few miles away. Dad’s uncle would not let him come home during the week, so my poor father’s only bed was a camp stretcher, poked in behind the large industrial ovens. This resulted in my mother being alone in the dilapidated old house, trying to cope with two small children. The roof leaked so badly, that sometimes - while trying to cook dinner, she wore a hat and raincoat to keep dry. Boxes and packing cases were our only furniture. We had nothing.

The smell, the earth tremors, and the leaking roof, eventually drove my parents to move to Ngongataha. We lived in an old three storeyed building, with a shop below. My mother did dress making for the proprietor of the shop. He kindly arranged for us to have an old red sofa he was disposing of. One night some friends came to stay, one of them sleeping on the sofa. On awakening the following morning, he discovered he was covered in bites. The sofa was alive with fleas, so mum had to dowse it with flea powder.

I loved this old house. My brother and I would sneak out of bed and watch my parents on the lower level below our room - through a hole in the floor, as they sat talking at the kitchen table. We had many visitors, mostly friends we’d met on the ship coming out, so I had a lot of ‘adopted’ aunts and uncles, whom we remained friends with over the years as David and I grew up.

I think my mother was much happier living at Ngongataha - I know I was, and we were all together again, but eventually my father would get a job in Hamilton, so we moved again. I loved Hamilton, and to this day, whenever I drive through Te Rapa, it is like coming home.

On the journey between Hamilton and Rotorua, my brother sat in the back of the car, while my Uncle Ron and dad sat in the front. Dad had acquired a rifle for shooting rabbits for rabbit pies - a delicacy back then for the British. David sat in the back, pointing the rifle at a bus driver who was following. The driver was playing a game with my brother, pretending to be shot. This helped keep David amused. Later that evening, dad asked Uncle Ron if he would like to hold the gun.

“I don’t like guns,” my uncle remarked.

“Go on,” urged my father. “It’s not loaded.”

With that, he pointed the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The gun discharged - almost causing the two men to leap out of their skin. My mother went running in to find a hole in the ceiling. Dad was never allowed to forget this, and somewhere in New Zealand lives a very lucky bus driver.

My father worked in a bakery at night, and a furniture factory during the day. My mother took in dressmaking once again. David attended Whitiora primary school, while I went to a kindergarten almost opposite the school. We lived at number 32 Mill St. This is when we acquired our beautiful dog, Whisky. She used to chew things, even biting the heads off a couple of kittens our cat had given birth to. In the end, mum cried ‘enough,’ and Whisky was given away. I was devastated. I loved the puppy dearly. It was with great delight that I heard a familiar bark one day, and in came Whisky through the back door with my father. Her new owners had abandoned her, and she was found wandering at the side of the road. No-one could have been happier than I, but I’m not sure about my mother’s feelings on the matter. That dog became like a beloved family member, and she lived to about fifteen years old. I never wanted to own another dog after she died - none of the family did. We remain ‘dog-less’ to this day.

My father bought an old van, its body was made of plywood. These days it wouldn’t be permitted on the road. Many times he would have to stop the car so that David and I could clamber out of the back to try and get some air. We would go to Karapiro, or Raglan for a drive, and be overcome by fumes and smoke, but the old van gave us many happy memories, of David, Whisky and I squashed up in the back.

We befriended a family who lived on the corner of our street. Diane was the same age as I, and we quickly became friends. One evening we were invited to Diane’s birthday tea, it was her fifth birthday. The evening went well and we all enjoyed ourselves. Diane and I were listening to our parents chatting while still seated at the dinner table. She was chewing on a hair-grip - a large plastic device which opened on a hinge. It was the type one would clasp around a ponytail.

All of a sudden, Diane turned blue - she had swallowed it, and it was lodged in her throat.

“She’s choking!” my father yelled. “Grab her!”

With that, he and Diane’s father grabbed her by the ankles turning her upside down, and thumping her on the back to try and dislodge the hair-grip. It did indeed dislodge - along with her dinner. She vomited everywhere. I went into a mad panic and became hysterical. I’d never seen anything like it. I didn’t know what they were trying to do to her. I wasn’t aware she’d swallowed the thing. The only thing my young mind could focus on, was the violence these two men that I trusted, were inflicting on Diane - and the vomit that was splattered all over the floor. I remember hearing loud screaming, not realizing it was coming from me. I really thought Diane’s insides were being beaten out of her, and the men were killing her. I’d never seen vomit before.

“I want to go home, I want to go home!” I screamed.

I was traumatized.

Later that evening after my mother put me to bed, I was very disturbed. I could not get the vision out of my head. It kept re-playing in my mind, over and over again. I drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. My mother must have sat by the bed for a while, as I remember her voice trying to comfort me.

I could see hundreds of airplanes flying over me - they were bombers. I could hear the air raid siren and the drone of the engines. I saw a man in an army uniform with a red band around the sleeve, kissing a lady and myself good-bye as he went out the front door.

“I don’t want daddy to go and fight,” I cried out.

The man had fairish, sandy coloured hair, but he didn’t look anything like my father, so I was confused as to why I was calling him daddy. The lady - who was obviously my mother, looked nothing like the lady who was my real mother.

My own mother spoke, “Daddy’s not going to fight, he’s here in the other room.”

The bombers continued in my vision, dropping hundreds and hundreds of bombs all around me, I was terrified. Why couldn’t I make her understand, it was ‘another daddy,’ not this one?

From that night on, I would go into a state of hysteria if anyone was sick. The terror would return and reduce me to a blithering idiot. It haunted me all through my school years and into my adult life. I have had hypnosis, and no end of treatment, but the fear still haunts me, even though my reasoning, adult mind knows it is a silly reaction. Deep in my subconscious, is the feeling of a terrifying, violent, death. I was born after the war in 1948, so the memory I was experiencing was not from this lifetime. I was to find out more about this as I matured. I had never even thought about past lives until I was in my late twenties.

The dreams of the bombers continued for years. Sometimes I would be running for cover from the bombs, but often the bombs would turn to vomit, and I would try to avoid it by hiding under tables and chairs. I often cursed that night at Diane’s for doing this to me, but now I realize, there must have been a purpose behind it.

When I was in my late twenties, I read an article about a hypnotist who could regress people into past lives. I wrote to him with my story, and he agreed to work on me without charging a fee, as long as I was willing to have my story printed in a woman’s magazine - and be photographed. I agreed. If it was going to help me, I would give anything a try. 

I regressed back in time with little effort. I was a good subject and went under hypnosis quickly. The story gradually unfolded. It appeared I had been born in 1939 - my name being Elizabeth Rose. I had been named after the two princesses, I explained - as a three year old. It was war time, and whenever there was an air raid, my mother, sister Janet and I, would take shelter in a large cupboard under the stairs. My father was obviously away somewhere else.

As the bombs began to fall near our house, my older sister became sick with fear, and was vomiting. (I started to become distressed by the smell and the close quarters we were cramped in. The hypnotist said my face changed and I looked afraid.)

I began to cry, “I don’t like it, I don’t like it!”

Our house began to shake, and as the bombs drew closer, my sister vomited all over my head. The house was hit, and a few moments later, I could see my legs poking out from the rubble. There was a huge hole where the roof had been. I seemed to be outside my body, but I couldn’t see anyone else, just these little legs protruding from what had once been the cupboard where we sheltered. Everything seemed very still and surreal. It was the year 1942. I was three years old living somewhere in London.

The hypnotist found me to be such an interesting subject I continued seeing him, trying to heal that part of my life. He regressed me back to several past lives with great ease. I became so interested in the subject, I trained and became a hypnotherapist in 1993. (I rarely use hypnosis now, having moved on in another direction.)

The memory of that time was obviously still with me when I was born back into this reality in 1948, only six years later. I have worked on myself a great deal since then, and tried to help others with their phobias, which often stem from past lives. I have my phobia a little more under control, but I still find difficulty coping with sickness, and try to avoid any situation that might make me feel threatened.

Often, if a person returns quickly, their past memory is strong, and they can bring old issues with them it would seem.

The article in the magazine was printed - with a very unflattering photograph. A local lady - a born again Christian who taught bible at my children’s school, phoned me one evening after having seen the article. She suggested that I was possessed by Satan, and wanted me to attend her church to have the devil cast out of me. She was aware that I was clairvoyant, and asked me what right I had wearing a crucifix around my neck while involved with the devil’s work. I pointed out that I believed in God and had as much right to wear it as the next person, but when my children were excluded from an Easter celebration at school because of my beliefs – that was the final straw. They were quickly taken out of bible class. I wasn’t having anyone who was that narrow-minded, thrusting their opinions on my children, who were being raised to have open minds. The teacher had the audacity to tell the other children in the class that I read tea leaves, and that my children and I didn’t believe in Jesus – she was incorrect on both matters. Living in such a small town, everyone knew me, and it wasn’t until years later, I discovered that I was referred to as the local witch. This tickled me, especially as I have never been into witchcraft, voodoo, or devil worship - talking to the dead - yes, but never witchcraft. I came up against this kind of prejudice many times, but I shrugged it off, often finding it humorous.

I was once briefly employed in the canteen of a local factory. A friend of mine ran the canteen and required some help. The factory was owned by a group of devout Christians. When they found out who I was, my friend was called into the office. When she returned, it appeared they weren’t happy having me there. They told her that I’d been mingling with the machinists, telling their fortunes as they worked. I laughed. I only ventured out into the work room with my tea trolley briefly, so God only knows when I was supposed to have done this. I couldn’t even read the future in those days, this was a skill I developed years later. Needless to say, I promptly left that job. I cannot abide narrow minds, though I realize that most of these people’s minds are locked in fear.

I have always believed in God, ever since I was a small child. I prayed everyday to become a better person, and gave thanks for all I had. On numerous occasions I had seen Jesus, but I will go into that later in the book.

As I tried to explain to the bible teacher, Jesus himself never judged anyone, so what gave her the right to judge me, especially as she had rung me while I was at home minding my own business and harming no-one, while accusing me of devil worship. I pointed out that if she were to follow his teachings more closely, she would see that he was the greatest psychic that probably ever lived. This really put her in a spin. I wished her well, thanked her for her concern about my soul, and assured her I was in good hands. She said she would pray for me, and I offered to do the same for her. I think her answer was, “By whose authority?” I hung the phone up quietly, not wanting to continue this pointless conversation.










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Celia M wrote 858 days ago

Dear Eunice,
You are very welcome. I think everyone wonders about the afterlife and such, so, to discover your book and read the brilliant writing, it was not just inspiring, but thrillind as well. Best of luck with it.

A G Chaudhuri wrote 939 days ago

Dear Eunice,

The ‘Temple Dancer’ was a fascinating read.
In spite of the piece being autobiographical, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it read so much like fiction. I really did not know what to expect from the title and cover, although the long pitch gave me some idea.

The opening chapter was a revelation. The writing flowed effortlessly and not one sentence required a second read. What’s even more commendable is that in spite of the conspicuous lack of dialogue, the narrative did not drag for even a moment.
The ‘Temple Dancer’ is a must read for believers and sceptics alike as it gives an astonishing first hand account of one person's experiences with the paranormal.

And it was actually quite scary. The numerology aspect was particularly interesting. I was born on the 16th of October, on a Sunday and thus can’t help wandering what this means for me. I’ve never had visions per se but I’m intuitive and often able to predict certain things with striking accuracy. Being scientifically inclined, I keep telling myself that these are outcomes of informed speculation and experience. But your story has actually gotten me thinking differently.

Well done, my friend. My rating: 6 stars

Best regards,

Nightdream wrote 1044 days ago

Book Cover: Not bad. It doesn’t stand out, but for the genre it’s all about who it is. So if it’s about Obama. We want to see a picture of Obama. The thing that I do like about it is that it’s simple and I could easily guess what genre it is.

Title: Doesn’t stand out but makes you think who in darn hell is this temple dancer?

Pitch: The words: ‘suffered’ and ‘depression’ stood out. Many people like to read about how people suffered from depression, but as long as they escape it. ‘Mental heath’ is a key word but not as strong as depression.

Chapter 1:
First paragraph: Very simple and displays your writing ability which is fantastic. I can tell just by this paragraph you don’t overdo things, your can plant a good image in our heads, and you get right to the point of what your trying to do like with envisioning a hare.

I like how you brought in the destiny number, and have let us in on the game. It made me wonder if I had it. Just maybe. I do believe sometimes what I read in books. So you have the power of God in yours hands right now.

I coudn’t believe you said the time was about ‘seven o’clock’. It was like you were toying with your readers mind with the ‘seven’ people. :) It worked very well though.

Also, I like how you make an autobiography seem like fiction. It reads like a fiction, too. While I’m reading it, I forget that it’s a true story about you, the author.

I’m starting to notice that this is a scary book or should I say you have a scary life. The purpose of the book I love that. And as I continue reading I feel more and more that you need to change your title and book cover. Your story is too good for them. Now you just have to find an equally good cover and title. I just don’t think that they connect well with the story you are giving. And think if you change it you might make your book more appealing. I did that with my book. It’s called HMD but it wasn’t working for the site. So I came up with a name that would spark interest while also relate to the book. My Friends Are Dead People. I feel it works and since I changed it I have noticed a huge change in people interested in reading it. But you changing your cover and title is just a thought I had. You don’t have to if you like it. I’m still keeping my title HMD. I think it’s because it’s been with me for 6 years. However, my new title is starting to grow on me.

When you said our childhood is the best years of our lives, I thought that was so true. It’s a very true statement. That’s because you have no worries when you are a kid and you forget very easy. Period. But you . . . it doesn’t apply.

Finally, I noticed dialogue. ‘I don’t like guns’. I just noticed that there was no dialogue and it hadn’t bothered me that you have been narrating the entire time. That’s a hug compliment on your writing and storytelling. HUGE. I usually notice things like that right away. So twenty stars for you!

Last Paragraph: Not bad. I think you best writing happens after your first paragraph and before the last. Both, however, are good but it’s what’s in the middle that stood out. You might want to consider splitting the chapter in two. This will also create a better flow for the reader. I know it doesn’t make sense but it will. And by splitting it you won’t turn any potential readers away by the length of it. Just so you know I would have given this 51/2 stars if I could. So the 6 stars that I gave you were pretty right on.

Just a thought: Because these kind of reads like a fiction maybe you should advertise it as a fiction. And then at the end you mention that it is a true story and based on your life. Again, just some of my ideas floating around. I’m always thinking of things, and sometimes they’re good and sometimes they really aren’t great at all.

missmaria wrote 1045 days ago

Dear Eunice,
I read a few chapters of The Temple Dancer some time ago, six starred and shelved it on the strength of your story telling ability.
I just read the first four chapters of Thomas Fairchild and unfortunately that's all the time i have for now, but i will return, as i think it's one of the best children's stories here. It's inspirational, full of goodness and great advice for any human, child or adult.
I liked the explanation about dropping the "s", otherwise i would have thought it was a typo. I didn't find anything wrong with your writing, plot. POV, etc. Some sentences seem to brake up and drop to the next line, but that may be the way it was uploaded, not sure; you may want to look it, as it interrupts the read.
My two favourite phrases:
"All the angel children are working hard to bring light upon the Earth, and to heal the souls of the ones lost in darkness."
"Let us first send out a prayer to the Great Father, for he will not interfere in our plans without our inviting Him first."
A lot can be learned from this book, and i wish you much success in publishing it.
Six stars and placed in line for the shelf.

FRAN MACILVEY wrote 1050 days ago

Dear Eunice, I rather liked your story, in an interested sort of way. Where is Waiuku? I have rated your book and put it on my watchlist. Best wishes, Fran Macilvey, "Trapped"

strachan gordon wrote 1056 days ago

Hello , a very interesting first chapter about psychic experiences , I've had plenty of them myself over the last twenty years , but only rarerely get a chance to talk about them to other people unless its a cut and dried experience , it can be hard to convince people . I'm sorry that your childhood was so distressed ,but glad that you have managed to find some resolution to the problem . That vision of the hare is very powerful and totally believable. I wonder if you would have the time to look at thre first chapter of my novel 'A Buccaneer' , which is set amongst Pirates in the 17th century , watchlisted and starred. With best wishes from Strachan Gordon.

Ivan Amberlake wrote 1056 days ago

The Temple Dancer (on Chapter 1-3)


I’m biased in favour of your book as I love everything connected with clairvoyants. I’ve always wondered how you see the world. This is not so enjoyable perhaps when it comes to evil entities. Well, anyway, I anticipate enjoying you book.
Chapter One
“I always felt ‘different’, but never understood why” – this is perhaps the sentence that is appropriate to all clairvoyants - they are different from the rest.
To tell you the truth ‘7’ is my favourite number. I heard it is a sacred one. Lots of things that have seven in them, like 7 days a week.
This is really terrifying – to be alone at home, with someone stomping in the next room when you know you’re all alone.
The part about hypnosis and Elizabeth Rose is shocking.
“On numerous occasions I had seen Jesus” – that intrigued me a great deal! This is a great opening chapter!

In Chapter 2 I got really scared when I was reading the suicide part. The man with the car chasing the girl gave me the creeps.

Chapter 3
Oh, here the temple dancer appears – a great twist! Life of a clairvoyant is really full of dark events, but I like the way clairvoyants help other people in cases of emergency where ordinary people are helpless.
This manuscript is very well written – I really enjoyed reading the first three chapters and will return for more when time permits. Thank you for sharing your story with us.

I give you all 6 stars and wish you the best of luck with The Temple Dancer.
Sincerely Yours,
Ivan Amberlake

Joshua Jacobs wrote 1063 days ago

This opens in a tightly written, conversational manner. Though this is far from my typical read, your voice drew me right into it, and I found myself reading with interest.

The premise is also intriguing. After you described the first incident, I wanted to hear about more. Nice hook! You held my interest throughout each conflict in the opening chapter. While it did jump around a bit, I found each experience fascinating.

The writing in this is polished, and it was a pleasure to be able to read this without having to jot down a bunch of notes. It's also descriptive, and by the end of the first chapter, you've managed to give a clear picture of your life growing up.

I don't like leaving a book without some form of suggestion, so here it goes. This may just be the fiction writer in me, but perhaps you can open this without much of the background information, dropping us right into the scene when you were seven years old. The revelation that you foresaw the hare might have a greater impact. You might also see if you can eliminate some of the repetition of "I," especially when starting a new sentence. It'll be difficult, but maybe you can rewrite a few sentences here and there to avoid overusing it.

Other than that, I was impressed with this. Great work!

MendelE wrote 1068 days ago

My god what a life you've had. I've read the first two chapters and they are a rich foundation for the reader to feel the mountains, seas and skies of your heart. You open much to us, let us in and help us see through eyes most of us will never acquire. I heard the same loud steps when I was nine, which stood the hair on my arms as I was reading. Beautifully written and honest. I can't wait to dig in more. Thank you for writing this.

Jannypeacock wrote 1091 days ago

Hi Eunice,

I really enjoyed the opening chapter here. I personally find Psychic phenomena fascinating. I think it’s the fact the someone experience and understands the unknown, we all just want as much information as we can get.
As for the writing style, I quite like it. I almost feel like I’m sitting beside you having a cup of tea, chatting away as you tell your story. It’s a unique approach that works well in this autobiography. Although the plot isn’t clearly outlined (in this chapter anyway) I don’t think it reflects negatively on the story as a whole. It’s your experience and you tell it in a friendly and very intriguing way. Time allowing I would certainly read more.


mrsdfwt wrote 1108 days ago

Dear Eunice,
Psychic phenomena has always amazed me. I have purchased everyone of Silvia Brown's books, and i have looked for yours on Amazon but can't find it.
I have no idea if there are any typos in your writing, i was too intent on reading your story to notice any. Totally captivating read, a book i will have in my library at home as soon as HP takes notice and publishes it.
You should be celebrating your uniqueness, you're an amazing woman.
Six stars, although i'd give you a hundred if i could, and a place on my shelf as soos as i can.
Dark of the Moon

Tom Bye wrote 1115 days ago

hello Eunice-
'The Temple Dancer-

Reading a pitch about the unknown always pulls me in.
Glad this book of yours did.
From the first page and that little girl floating just above the ground, i was hooked, and glued to the pages.
This biography of your is both interesting and gripping to read, and later, your acceptance of happenings as a gift. It is just one amazing story.
backed with pleasure and gets my six stars
good luck with it.
Tom Bye
'from hugs to kisses'
please oblige and glance at mine and back or comment if you like it

monicque wrote 1127 days ago

Wow! I enjoyed chapters 2 and 3... Well done! I'll read on later! xx

monicque wrote 1127 days ago

Hahaha!! What an awesome story Eunice!! I just read through the first chapter so far, and I can relate to certain bits of it... I used to live in a small town, and I've been accused of being possessed by Satan by seven church leaders (priests, pastors, ministers).... Seriously. Once I had this whole church believe that I was possessed by the spirit of Jezebel and they actually had meetings about this behind my back. It absolutely devestated me at the time, because so many people believed their shit. Anyway, that was all many years ago, when I was deep into writing articles about religion...

I hope you can do me some numerology - or anything!!!

About your writing now!! ... hmm... It's a great story. However, I think that the way it's written at the moment - although it's very readable, and you write well, it doesn't really have a clear plot at this stage, and also, you skip around times/places (from childhood to adult-hood, etc.) Even though it's non-fiction, I think the actual organization of the story could be improved. I'm only saying this because I really did like the story, and I will read on, cause I want to know more, but I'm open-minded to these things, and personally interested in this sort of thing. I think for people who arent, and who are skeptical, it may not hold their interest, because nothing really major happens in the first chapter. You don't solve a crime with your skills, or see anything more scary than a floating girl. The stuff about the past life regression is fantastic, but I think this could be expanded and on a chapter of it's own. I know it's huge task though to do these things.. But I still think the work needs another level of edit... Sorry!! But I hope these comments help... cause personally, I think the stuff you're writing about is very interesting!!!

Anyway, I'll let you know further thoughts soon...
And I'll rate you highly for now!! Thanks for sharing!!
Monicque. x

Daniela Pitakova wrote 1142 days ago

Dear Eunice
I live not far from where you were born. I enjoyed the account of your discovery of clairvoyance. It sets me into fear at the begging seeing all the spirits. You have a natural gift and masive responsibility with it. I admire you. One day I would love to try regression myself. You tell your story interestingly immediately drawing your reader into your life and gradually exposing your childhood.

Best of luck
Daniela ( Water Goblin)

Daniela Pitakova wrote 1143 days ago

Dear Eunice
I live not far from where you were born. I enjoyed the account of your discovery of clairvoyance. It sets me into fear at the begging seeing all the spirits. You have a natural gift and masive responsibility with it. I admire you. One day I would love to try regression myself. You tell your story interestingly immediately drawing your reader into your life and gradually exposing your childhood.

Best of luck
Daniela ( Water Goblin)

Daniela Pitakova wrote 1143 days ago

Dear Eunice
I live not far from where you were born. I enjoyed the account of your discovery of clairvoyance. It sets me into fear at the begging seeing all the spirits. You have a natural gift and masive responsibility with with. I admire you. One day I would love to try regression myself. You tell your story interestingly immediately drawing your reader into your life and gradually exposing your childhood.

Best of luck
Daniela ( Water Goblin)

Juliusb wrote 1143 days ago

Dear Eunice,

"I became more deeply involved with mysticism as years went by, with a strong desire to know God and the progress of the soul," - your life is daunting but has lot for many who don’t know God. I but become born-again Christian on 13 March 2006, not because I believed in God or believed for certain that God existed, but because I was going through, so far, the most stressful situation in my life. Since then, I have grown spiritually but mine has been to trying to find God or at least searching for God. One time I posed to my church leader in discipleship classes, I facilitate. Annoyed with my unbelief question, my church leader warned say, “If you want to know God, you will go mad; and if you don’t submit to God you will loose you soul”.

I guess you backed “Destined to Triumph” because of strength in spirituality. I am going to read the whole of you a book. It looks it can build my spirituality.

Tom Hafer wrote 1147 days ago

Your gift are unorthodoxed in certain ways but that is precisely why I was drawn to your story. I am a Pastor and have a hope that Christiandom become much more open to the possibility that God is doing work in many arenas of spirituality. I love it, backed.
Tom Hafer
Well Village

Kim W. wrote 1154 days ago

I would definitely buy this book. I've read the first chapter, and put it on my watch list to finish later when I have more time. I really connected with you and your feelings of being so alone as a child.

Nicely written. I'm glad to have found your book.

(if you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts on mine as well)

FarahKhan wrote 1154 days ago

Fascinating ! I would buy this book....I love the subject of the 'unknown' and its so hard to find a decent take on it
I think your book is facinating!


PCreturned wrote 1208 days ago

Hi Eunice,

I finally managed to make time to come and look at your book. Sorry it took a few days. :(

I'll comment as I read since I find that the easiest way to keep track. Please don't be offended by any suggestions. After all, they will just be my thoughts. You can always ignore me if you think I'm wrong or stupid. ;)

(Sorry in advance for any typos, but my keyboard’s a bit knackered:()

Chapter 1: Eerie premonition about the hare. I bet you were really freaked out when you actually saw it! No wonder you were wary of telling your friends. They likely wouldn't have believed you and might have ridiculed you. Children can b v cruel. :(

I've 1 tiny suggestion. I don't think you need to explain quite so much. eg in "large truck" the reader can infer the truck is large as trucks are large vehicles. eg2 When you're describing the occurence with your dog and finish with "she was in a state of panic." the reader already knows the dog is panicked from the preceding description. As such, I think that last sentence can be cut. I think it's usually a mistake to spoonfeed readers too much as they can switch off. It's better to just present the reader with the evidence and let them draw their own conclusions. that way, whey can become more involved in the story.

Reading on... Wow the floating girl must have been a shock. No wonder your dog was acting so oddly. Seems like you grew up with such psychic phenomena. I can't even imagine what that's like. I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or envy you. On the one hand, I'm sure it could be terrifying, on the other, maybe it was exciting in a way too.

Another tiny suggestion. I'd generally avoid forms of began/started as verbs don't really start. They just tend to happen. eg I think "I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise..." wold read better as "The hairs on the back of my neck rose..."

Reading on... Sound like those footsteps terrified you. no wonder you fled.

It must have been difficult growing up knowing what was going on, but being told all this was just due to your imagination.

The hospital really does sound like it was unbearable for you. I never like being in hospital, and I don't have to deal with the added problems of what you see. I can't imagine how scary that must have been as a child.

It sounds like your time with the grandmother really isolated you and exacerbated your loneliness. No wonder that feeling was hard to shake off as you grew older.

Wow New Zealand must have been a huge change in your life. I can imagine that may have added an extra sense of dislocation, beautiful though the country is. It seems like you loved the old house in Ngongataha, though. I'm glad you were happier there. I feared such a move might have made things more difficult for you.

I thought the incident with the gun was funny. I think it's a much needed moment of lightness in your story at this point, though I bet your mother was furious. ;)

Shocking moment when Diane chokes. That could have ended so much worse. I can see why the event disturbed you so much, especially if you'd never seen vomit before.

Hmmm v strange dream with the bombers. Dreams from another lifetime. Scary. The regression scene's v vivid. I can really picture it.

I guess I should have seen the conflict coming with people who didn't understand your experiences didn't diminish your faith :(. I'm surprised that seemed to amuse you at times. I think such a thing would have made me angry. that said, humour is definitely a better reaction .;)

V sensible hanging up at the end of the chapter. It's impossible to win an argument with somebody who just won't listen. :(

OK I've just looked back and realised I've gone on for far too long. Sorry about that. I'll stop commenting in depth now as I don't want to annoy you. :(

I think there's a lot to like in your book. It's an interesting story in an area the majority of us are v ignorant. I think you've managed to tell your often sad story without being self-pitying. No easy feat. I can see people being interested in your experiences.

I've rated your book highly, and will slip it onto my shelf as soon as I've posted this comment. :)

Good luck finding an agent/publisher,


nuknuk wrote 1221 days ago

You got my attention from the start and kept it, way to go! Definately a great read for biography enthusiasts.
Leslie Gervais
"Love Has No Borders"

George Sinclair wrote 1233 days ago

Hi Eunice

Here are my comments on The Temple Dancer.

General comments : -
1. 5 stars and backed.
2. I could not stop reading it – the hook goes on and on!
3. An intense, very interesting personal story with believable detail.
4. It flows and flows and flows – with excellent English, spelling and grammar – one of the best I have read in Authonomy.
5. I like you’re your ability as a wordsmith.
6. You are a true survivor, and very brave woman.
7. In a few places, you tend to use the word “I” too much. It introduces passive text – “I did this, I did that.” It’s difficult to reduce when in the first person POV, but should be done, as now I have noticed it, it’s distracting me a little from the good story. Here’s an example of what to do – “I felt much safer there, and nothing spooky…” suggest changing to “Feeling much safer there, nothing spooky…” Usually, a restructuring of the sentence does the trick, and it makes the text active. (A good example of a first person POV novel is Sphinx by T S Learner.)
8. Suggest you physically describe the main characters initially, then feed in more description of them as the story progresses.
9. There is not enough description of the surroundings. Suggest adding a bit here and there.
10. I find the jumping from one timeframe to another, fairly quickly, and on several occasions, a bit confusing. Is this what you want? Or do you need to think about the structure of the story a bit – what is the title of each chapter? – what message are you trying to convey in each chapter? Here’s my suggestion: – Make the first chapter cover a reasonably wide timeframe, which will give a flavour of the complete story – you already partially do this. Then make each of the succeeding chapters cover a specific timeframe. Of course, you can still have short flashbacks in each chapter to give them more life.
11. In Chapters 1 and 2, there seems to be a big gap between the ages of 7 and 27 where no psychic events happen to you. Put them in if there were, or maybe explain the gap.

Some detailed critical comments : -
Ch 1
1. At “We emigrated to New Zealand…” you could make this the start of a new Chapter, as you have now gone back in time.
2. Towards the end of the chapter there is a third timeframe introduced. Is this what you want?
Ch 2
3. After “Unfortunately, the dope won.” Is it still your first husband? Need to make this clear.
4. You then have your husband (which one?) dying at age 49, then you are back at age 27 and he is alive. This is a bit confusing.
5. Delete the first quite from “…to the psychic world, seemed quite to be quite unique.”
6. I really like the bit where you realise you are psychic, and start to control it. Suggest making it a bit longer.
7. There are three timeframes in this chapter as well. Is this what you want?

Hope this helps.
If you have a few minutes, I would really appreciate some comments on Gold Demon. Best regards

Kenneth Edward Lim wrote 1235 days ago

Your biographical work "The Temple Dancer" fascinated me because of the great insights it contained. Your reflections on your relationship with family and friends struck a familiar chord, making me realize that behind the trappings of culture or social status huiman frailty and weakness are the same everywhere. Thank you for your eye-opening book.

Kenneth Edward Lim
The North Korean

billy.mcbride wrote 1268 days ago

Dear Eunice,

I have always believed that seances make me uncomfortable. Yet, I have Angels in my life who guide me with much wisdom and love, and they turned out to be the difference that makes a difference in my life. They are good, yet I am sure some anti-semites would call me possesed and try to slander them. I enjoy getting to know you and your life. It sounds as if you are making it more and more interesting all the time. That is the best thing to do: to know how to live a good life. Thank you for your kind words also.

Have a nice evening,

Billy McBride

rb101182 wrote 1288 days ago

I love reading about mediums. I saw a well-known medium named George Anderson a few years ago, and the experience was life-changing. Very excited to read this...


Pia wrote 1297 days ago

Eunice -

The Temple Dancer - You give a poignant impression of the isolation which sensitive children all over the world must feel if their experiences are belittled and devalued. From my experiences as a counsellor, psychic abilities are much more common than generally acknowledged. And there is no guidance on how to manage psychic boundaries. Your writing is engaging. I refreshed an earlier comment and am catching up with rating your book. Best Success, Pia

Fandelion wrote 1322 days ago

I really enjoyed the clear, fluid style of your writing, and it's always nice to see something set so close to Australia. :-) My only criticism over the first few chapters is that's it quite passive - backward focused, rather than forward.


chesterfester wrote 1323 days ago

Eunice Attwood
A very interesting and compelling read that is written very well. This subject matter may frighten people off because of their ignorance but I highly recommend that as many people as possible take a look and enjoy this as much as I have.
Good luck Eunice,
Lockerbie's Deception

Robert Mourningstar wrote 1340 days ago

I have read your first chapter and found it very entertaining. I loved how you introduced the dog with the advert of his paw. The ghostly apparition drew me in and made me think this is the type of stories that I enjoy reading. I love the supernatural. I find numerology very interesting. And a form of second sight is always alluring. I loved the imagery of ‘spook meter’. It reminds me a little of a Scooby-doo type dog.
I have no complains about your book, but the following were things that struck me as either odd, out of place, or somewhat whimsical. And as a reader, I just thought that I would remark to help you see it the way that at least one reader saw it.

I am assuming this to be a true story from your synopsis, but your father working as Baker at night seemed a little odd for some reason to me. I would have expected a Baker to work early in the morning not late at night, but maybe my imagery of a Baker is someone working at a little family owned Bakery Shop that opens early in the morning so their customers can get warm bread. But I know that we have a Wonder Bread Bakery in Memphis that you can smell the Bread for miles even late into the evenings. Not necessarily sure if a night-time Baker needs clarification to why he’s working at night, but a hint to the odd working hours of a night-time Baker might be a bit of clarification to a wondering reader.

I didn’t quite understand what you meant by a 7 day born child at first. I know you explained a few sentence later and I didn’t have to rake my brain much, but I thought that it might be a smoother read if you had talked about numerology and what a 7 day born child was before you introduced that the character, yourself, as a 7 day born child. A brief synopsis for people not familiar with Numerology would also help.

You could have said something along the lines of :

In Numerology, numbers are reduced to single digits. The total numerical value of someone’s birthday that fell on the 25th would be 2 and 5. When added together they would be 7, and therefore the child would be considered a 7 day born child.

I did find the dog’s name of Whisky somewhat whimsical. I don’t know your entire story and wasn’t sure if that was the impression that you really intended on convey in the name or if it was just actually your dog’s name. I had a dog growing up that we named Snoopy. I find our naming conventions as children somewhat whimsical also. If I was telling a story about my youth would I use the actually name of my dog or change it. I’d probably use my dog’s actual name, Snoopy, even if it is somewhat whimsical, just food for thought.

Overall, I really enjoyed what I read and will be finding some time to put it on my bookshelf in the near future. Good look with your book.

fh wrote 1342 days ago

This is a fascinating and compelling read, and written with great insight. I've only managed the first few chapters as I'm swamped with reads at the moment but will definitely be coming back for more. Your childhood experiences and the worries that accompany them are so sad.
I wouldn't change anything - after all it is the truth.
A well written and eye-opening memoir. Well done

S-M wrote 1343 days ago

I can see this striking a resonance within readers who have an affinity with precognition and its relation to trauma - probably the price one pays for any gift - all the best wishes with the circulation of your story. s-m

CR Harding wrote 1349 days ago

Eunice, from what I've read thus far I can not imagine the grief you have endured. To see an image or event before it actually occurs. The girl floating in the room gave me chills. Interesting read. Stars... CR

A Novel List wrote 1353 days ago

Have just read your own comment, and having read the first part of this book you mustn't change a thing as far as I'm concerned. I think this reads very well indeed, and after all how can you change the truth?

I am really into psychic phenomena, though sadly i am not gifted myself.

Eunice Attwood wrote 1354 days ago

Just a note for those suggesting that changes be made. The Temple Dancer has been in print for three years, after being self published. Several hundred copies have already been sold so I am unable to re-edit. I still appreciate your comments, and will make the changes if it becomes an e-book.
Cheers, Eunice.

gabzgrl wrote 1354 days ago

This is a very well-written and eye-opening memoir. It makes me feel like I'm not alone. I plan on finishing it, and if you got it published I would want to read it for sure. I can relate to your vivid descriptions, and I feel like there are so many pieces of your story that I connect to on deep levels. I remember when the walls used to sway when I was younger, my mom struggled with depression as I talked about in my own memoir. I will back your book.

msaraann wrote 1354 days ago

I just finished chapter 13. What a great story!

msaraann wrote 1356 days ago

I had scary experiences as a child, too. I still get spooked a little sometimes, but no terror any more. You're the first person I've heard who also hears the static sound. I'm very much looking forward to reading your story. I've just begun to read it.

CarolinaAl wrote 1358 days ago

I read your first chapter.

General comments: A fascinating start to a true account of one woman's spiritual development. Well detailed. Sometimes touching. Sometimes thought-provoking.

Specific comments on chapter 1:
1) You use the worde 'large' in the first and third sentence of your opening paragraph. You also use 'large' in your second paragraph.
2) "Stop it girl!" I scolded. Comma after 'it.' When you address someone in dialogue, offset their name or title with a comma.
3) 'Almost made my blood run cold,' 'felt my blood curdle,' and 'fought with every fiber of my being' are cliches. There are more cliches in your first chapter.
4) ' ... exhausted from his nights work.' Nights (plural) should be night's (possessive).
5) I like the story of the rifle and the bus driver. Good descriptions. Good pacing.
6) 'One evening we were invited to Diane's birthday tea, it was her fifth birthday.' Comma after 'evening.'
7) ' ... he was the greatest psychic that probably ever lived.' 'That' should be 'who.'

I hope this critique helps you polish your all important first chapter. These are just my opinions. Use what works for you and discard the rest. Thank you for your past backing of "Savannah Passion." Should "Savannah Passion" make it into the top five next month, I hope you return it to your shelf and keep it there until it makes the editor's desk.

Have a fabulous day.

Saint wrote 1359 days ago

Dear Eunice:
All I can say is WOW. I read almost all of your chapter one and am so fascinated by your TRUE story. Girl, how did you live through this? I want to wrap my arms around you (when you were seven) and hold you and ask you to tell me what you saw. I want to validate your feelings and give you sympathy for your real inner turmoil. When my little brother would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because he thought there were bugs in his bed my mother would say, "Where?" He's point and she'd slap her hands all over the bed pretending to kill them. No one else ever saw the bugs, but it didn't matter. My mom knew that they were real to my brother, so she validated his feelings.

I get the impression that a part of you wants to justify your parent's lack of empathy and availability. I understand, but it doesn't help me feel bad for you--and all the other children--who don't get the love and attention children need to feel attached, important, loved and know that they matter.

I look forward to reading more of your book. I'm not sure if you want structure advice or editing info, but your story is a true story and must be told. I can't wait to read more. There's just not enough time in the day!

Thanks for backing WILLOW. I think you could relate to her--even though she is fiction. She's different and doesn't understand why or why others treat her the way they do.

Here's a hug...a big one! OOOOOO -- well...a few hugs.

HannahWar wrote 1360 days ago

Eunice, this is a very brave and fascinating book. It must have helped you a lot to come to terms with your life to write this all down. I know the feeling! I wish you all the luck with publication and helping other young sensitive, psychic children to understand where they come from. Starred and soon on my shelf. Hannah

Justis Call wrote 1365 days ago

I liked it when I initially read it, and I like it still!

Backed with pleasure and five stars!
Justis Call

Balepy wrote 1365 days ago

Eunice - The Temple Dancer is everything that has been said by other writers and I applaud you and your writing. Backed with great enthusiasm and will look at your other books. Very best wishes Balepy (Freckles the Fawn)

Craig Ellis wrote 1366 days ago

Fascintating. This is a subject I have always been interested in, and your biographical style is fast paced and easy to follow. I'm quite certain there is a market for this, as I'm probably not the only one who wonders at such things. Well done!

Craig Ellis
The Sun and the Saber

n r callaghan wrote 1374 days ago

A great premise, but a lot of narrative in the first chapter. Lovers of the genre will enjoy this I'm sure, but it would benefit from more dramatisation and pace. Backed.

Derryl Flynn wrote 1374 days ago

A dear psychic friend of mine passed over a few years back, & reading your story reminded me so much of him. The constant trawl through adversity as you journey through life realising your unique gift runs uncannily parallel.
I won't comment on the subject matter, having read countless books on spiritualism, save to say all you write about confirms what I've learned.
The writing is flowing & you pr'ecis well, which means the story doesn't get bogged down. However I think you should make some kind of link when you revert to flashback, to allow the reader to keep up.

The Lobsang Rampa references brought back memories. Reading his work a few years back helped me immensly through a difficult personal period.

Derryl Flynn (Scrapyard Blues)

Ceeds wrote 1375 days ago

Absolutely fascinating. I know very little about the spiritual world but you definitely gave me an insight. I will try to read more of this. Good luck with this, Ceeds

Simon Vernau wrote 1375 days ago

This was very interesting for me to read. It is not realyl my genre and not something that i would buy to read but thank you for letting me read your work.
I think the first few lines are well crafted and drew me in. I hesitate to say more than thsi beacuse I do not know anything about the markiet you are writing for and what an agent interested in ths genre would be looking for.
is the first opening chapter a little too long?
Could you shorten it with just your dramatci opening and leave is open-mouthed begging for more?

livloo wrote 1378 days ago

A fascinating and interesting true-life story. It is very informative which I found useful as this type of thing is not something I know much about.

Best of luck with it

A Policeman's Lot.