Sharon Booth's Blog, page 9

Getting Over Gary by Jessica Redland

I greatly enjoyed Searching for Steven, Jessica Redland’s previous full-length novel in the Whitsborough Bay series, and I also loved her novella, Raving About Rhys, so I was wondering if she would be able to come up with something that I enjoyed as much. In the event, I discovered that Getting Over Gary is my favourite of her books, so far.

The story revolves around Elise, best friend of Sarah, who featured in Searching for Steven. Elise is a lovely heroine, and I really felt her shock and pain as she makes a discovery that will change the course of her life. Her grief is compounded by the events in her sister’s and Sarah’s lives. Surrounded by happy couples and expectant parents, Elise is struggling to cope with her pain. Everything in her world has changed. Everything she thought she knew has been proven to be a lie. How can she start to put her life back together again?

Elise goes on a journey of discovery. Having been half of a couple since she was a teenager, she now has to learn who she is, and what she wants from life, now that her husband is out of the equation. Sometimes, she makes mistakes. Her judgement is a little off-balance occasionally – but how can it not be? She’s lonely, sad, confused and angry. The future she had mapped out for herself no longer exists. She has to grieve not only for what she had and lost, but for what she might have had and never will. So, of course, she’s going to make mistakes and plot a haphazard course for a while.

The great thing about Elise is that she doesn’t give up. Even with her dreams in tatters, she picks herself up and tries to mend herself, her way. Trying to put a brave face on things for the sake of her friend and sister shows what a kind and caring person she is. I really felt for her when she confronted her own mother – an awful old bat of a woman who was enough to crush the confidence of anyone, let alone someone as vulnerable as Elise. As for her mother-in-law! Words fail me.

I loved following Elise’s journey as she battled to get over Gary. I was rooting for her all the way through the book, and I really hoped she would get her happy ending. I won’t say what happens, but suffice it to say I had a big smile on my face when I came to the end.

Lovely, warm writing, great setting, characters you can really relate to, and a satisfactory conclusion. I’m now looking forward to reading the last in the Whitsborough Bay series, although I will be very sad to say goodbye. 5/5
You can buy Getting Over Gary here.

Shakespeare? He’s not so Bard. (Sorry!)

William Shakespeare. You grow up knowing his name, don’t you? Even if you’ve never read a single play or sonnet. Even if you’ve never seen any performances of his work. Even if you’re not really sure who on earth he was, you know the name, even as a little child. He’s as English as fish and chips, Corrie and the Beatles. Even his birthday, April 23rd – which is also the date of his death – is our national day. The day we fly the flag bearing the cross of St George. Shakespeare is embedded in our culture.

Anne Hathaway’s Cottage

How many schoolchildren are loaded onto buses and driven to theatres to watch his work performed? How many GCSEs depend on a basic understanding of at least one of his plays? How many coach holidays revolve around a trip to Stratford-upon-Avon? How many visitors traipse around Anne Hathaway’s cottage? But how many people really, really enjoy his work? How many people actually read it? How many people shake their heads, hold up their hands in dread, and declare they don’t understand his words, and aren’t particularly interested in learning them?

My first introduction to Shakespeare was at high school. As part of my English literature ‘O’ level studies – yes, I’m that old! – we had to read Julius Caesar. I hated it. We were also studying To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, which I loved, and the works of RS Thomas, Ted Hughes, John Betjeman and Philip Larkin, as part of the syllabus. I enjoyed those. On the days that the teacher announced we were studying Julius Caesar, we all groaned, and I prepared for an hour of total boredom. The lines made no sense to me. The words were dry and dusty on the page. I can’t, in all honesty, remember any quotes from that play. I confess, though, that Julius Caesar, as played by Kenneth Williams, is vivid in my memory, as he wailed, “Infamy, Infamy, they’ve all got it in for me!” in Carry On, Cleo.

We were taken on the obligatory school trip to see the play performed. I think it might have been in York, or Leeds. Either way, seeing it come alive on stage made no difference. I think I actually fell asleep. Similarly, when we went to see Hamlet, in either York, or Leeds(!) I wasn’t interested. None of it made sense. I didn’t even know what was happening. I was more interested in the music of the Bee Gees, pouring from the coach radio. than in the lines of anguished dialogue being wrung from the lips of passionate actors on stage. More into Saturday Night Fever than the feverish outpourings of a distraught Prince of Denmark.

An intimidating looking textbook…

So why did I decide to study Shakespeare as part of an Open University degree, in my forties? I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I could have chosen other courses. Maybe it was that I thought I ought to. Maybe it was because it was a challenge, and one I was determined to accept. Maybe I thought that being older and wiser would help me understand the words. Maybe it was the hope that having guidance from expert tutors would open up all the beauty of his words that I had so far failed to grasp. All I know is that I’m very glad I went for it.

I had to make lots of notes!

I’m not claiming to be an expert on Shakespeare or his works. I haven’t read all of them. I’ve only tackled the ones I needed for my course. I chose A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, Richard II, Hamlet, Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra, Twelfth Night and Cymbeline. We also read various sonnets.  Did I understand them? Not all of them – at least, not at first. Having tuition to guide me through made them so much more enjoyable, and watching performances of the plays on DVD was a revelation. Shakespeare does come alive on stage. That’s what his plays were written for, after all. They weren’t novels. They were written to be performed, and once you start to understand them, and stop being afraid of them, they  are amazing. I laughed out loud at A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream and  I truly adored Macbeth.  The sonnets were a real revelation. They are beautiful. Honestly. Those poems actually moved me to tears.

Most people have heard at least the first line of Sonnet 18:

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.

So long as men can breathe, and eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

 

But there are other, beautiful sonnets that aren’t quite as well known. Heart-wrenching poems of love and longing, and fear and loss, and jealousy, pain, grief and acceptance. I began to understand why, four hundred years after his death, he is still the most famous and celebrated writer in history.

Cymbeline starring Helen Mirren

I’m sure there will be lots of articles written, lots of programmes on television, lots of discussion on the radio, about this man who, in spite of his fame, remains surprisingly elusive. (Not much is known about him, though there is a great deal of speculation and theory.)  I hope that it’s not all overly-intellectual and dry. I hope it’s inclusive and encouraging and exciting. I hope it persuades more people to open their hearts and minds to his wonderful work. It’s a terrible shame that he is thought, by too many, to be for “academics” and the middle classes. I think he would be appalled and saddened by that.

I expect some of you reading this will be thinking, ‘Well, obviously! I love Shakespeare! She’s preaching to the converted here.’ But if there are some of you who are reluctant to give him a try, perhaps because you think his work is boring, or scary, or only for clever people (which is what I believed for years!) then why not give it a chance? This isn’t coming from someone who can quote vast chunks of Shakespearean lines off the top of my head. This isn’t coming from someone who can even say she understands every word he ever wrote. I don’t. But when you just relax and give it a chance, it’s astonishing what happens. Don’t believe me? Go for it. You just might be pleasantly surprised, and find a great deal of pleasure in something you’ve feared until now. As the great man himself said:

“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt”

Measure for Measure

Here’s to you, Mr Shakespeare.  God bless you.

xxx

A Trip Into The Past

So, on Saturday I ventured out of the house for something other than work (I know!) and had a truly fabulous day out with my brilliant daughter, Jemma, at a local stately home.

Burton Agnes Hall is an Elizabethan manor, not too far from Bridlington, and it’s truly beautiful. Unbelievably, I’d never been before, although of course, I knew about it. We’ve driven through the village of Burton Agnes loads of times, and you can’t fail to spot the brown tourist signs, or the glimpse of the imposing house on the hill as you follow the winding road, past the lovely village duck pond.

Jemma had arranged the trip as a treat. She drove me there, she paid the entrance fee, and she even paid for us a meal in the cafe. She’s a star! I knew there was a reason I had her.[image error]

She’d been before on a couple of occasions, but it was new to me, as I said earlier. I was expecting something lovely, as I’ve looked the place up plenty of times on the internet. Frankly, though, no image on the computer can do the place justice. It really is gorgeous.

We parked up and spent five minutes debating whether or not I’d need my coat. It was quite sunny, but it had been cloudy and drizzly earlier on, and I’m nothing if not cautious. Eventually, I decided against it, and we headed down the path, past the sweet little church, and into the courtyard, where plants for sale were on display, and which was enclosed by shops, and a cafe.

We paid admission in the shop, then headed out towards the Norman Manor House. This was the original hall, and was actually built in the twelfth century. It was a bit church-like, and we realised we were whispering as we walked round, which made us giggle. There was a tiny twisting staircase in the corner, and Jemma persuaded (bullied!) me into climbing it. We found ourselves in a large room which, apparently, used to be the main room where the family slept and ate together. There used to be a doorway leading out, but that’s blocked up now. Presumably the room we’d entered was a sort of cellar.

Heading back to the lower level, with my daughter mocking my terror as I edged my way down the steps, we left the building and stepped out into the sunshine. It was time to enter the main hall.

The thing that struck me about Burton Agnes Hall was its informality. We were immediately greeted by a very friendly lady who told us cheerfully that we could sit on any furniture that wasn’t roped off and take as many photographs as we liked. I was quite astonished by that. I’ve been to stately homes before, where photos were not allowed and there was definitely no touching. I also liked the fact that there were family photographs dotted around in various rooms, which made it clear that this was still a family home.

In actual fact, about half of the Hall is still private and blocked off from the public, but it’s been very cleverly arranged, so that the rooms you can go in flow on directly, and you don’t see any signs or warnings to keep out, apart from on the second floor landing, where the stairs are roped off to the third floor. Other than that, you don’t realise, as you go round, that you’re not seeing the whole house.

There are some stunning rooms. The Red Drawing Room, The White Drawing Room, and the Great Hall are amazing. Proper grand stately home rooms, if you know what I mean. There is a fantastic fireplace in the Great Hall. It really catches the eye and you can only marvel at the workmanship.

The King’s State Bedroom is slightly creepy. It seems to have got its name because of the rumour that James I slept there on the way to his coronation, although this is pretty doubtful, since the Hall wasn’t finished until after the coronation happened! Jemma and I both agreed that we wouldn’t much fancy sleeping in it, in the days before electricity. It has dark, wooden panelling on every wall, and with only candles to light your way, it must have been a bit scary sleeping in there. The bed was surprisingly small. We were thinking about how we always say people were shorter back then, but in the history books, kings are always portrayed as being tall. We wondered if the king slept with his feet dangling over the edge of the bed, or if he slept propped up on loads of pillows. Then we thought, didn’t they used to wear heels? So by the time they’d taken off the heels, then taken off their wigs, they were probably only five foot and a peanut.

The Queen’s State Bedroom was much more pleasing, and seemed, surprisingly, larger. She also had a little room attached to her bedroom. Either things have changed drastically over the last few centuries, or the queen had better sleeping quarters than the king. Quite right, too. I’m not sure why it’s called The Queen’s Bedroom. There appeared to be no legend about a visit to the room by a queen, although it’s possible I missed that. It is, however, supposed to be haunted by the ghost of a lady who died there in 1620. Yikes! I didn’t feel a presence there, thankfully. I actually rather liked the room, and it had an amazing Jacobean ceiling.

My favourite rooms were the Reading Room, the Library and the Dining Room. These seemed to be lighter, more airy, and a bit more modern in feel. They were quite relaxing, and I could imagine them being proper family rooms. In the Long Gallery there was a tapestry, which was a depiction of the garden, with an image of the hall in the top left corner.  We only glanced at it, until a lady who was browsing nearby urged us to take a close look. When we did, we couldn’t believe the detail. It was incredible. Tiny, tiny little stitches, so neatly done, and so clever. You could easily make out the different flowers. I noticed the little white roses and was quite astounded how the effect had been achieved. That’s some talent.

All the way up the stairs and round the house, I’d been conscious of the creaking floorboards. I kept muttering to Jemma that, after all these centuries, if I was the one who proved too much for them, and the floor collapsed under my weight, I’d die of embarrassment. As we left the house, we noticed the creaking hadn’t stopped. It was my shoes! I was mortified, but Jemma found that very funny, obviously. They hadn’t creaked before we went in. I reckon they were joining in as a mark of respect to the house.

We headed to the cafe, as Jemma was on the point of collapse, and had delicious paninis, cups of Yorkshire tea, and a glass of raspberry lemonade, before following the path back out to the church. Apparently, Charlotte Bronte visited Burton Agnes, and, given her connections to the clergy, it’s believed she visited that actual church. I would love to think I’d walked in Charlotte Bronte’s footsteps! The church grounds are quite dark as you walk through an archway of trees, and on either side you can see ancient gravestones. We both jumped as we heard cannon fire. Now, I will grant you that I do have an overactive imagination, but even Jemma said that it sounded like cannon fire. There was some shouting going on from somewhere. For one brief moment, I allowed myself to dream that we were stepping through a time portal, and were going to hurtle back two hundred years or so. Maybe I would meet my own Jamie Fraser? Sadly, I was brought back to earth when we noticed the very contemporary cables fastened to the side of the church, and then Jemma pointed out that the noise was probably some sporting event. So, no Outlander type timeslip event for me, then. Boo.

We visited the walled garden, where we posed for photographs and couldn’t stop laughing. It was a bit embarrassing when a couple of other visitors suddenly appeared beside us. They must have heard everything we’d said. We braved the maze. I told Jemma not to go in there. Hadn’t she seen Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? But she insisted, so in we went, without so much as a reel of cotton, a trail of breadcrumbs, or even a compass to keep us safe. Luckily, it was very straightforward, and we came out the other side pretty sharpish. Having dodged a few bumble bees, we decided to have a wander over to the east lawn’s ponds. This meant walking on the grass. I spent the whole time whispering, “Are you sure we’re allowed to walk on the grass?” and Jemma spent the whole time hissing back, “Yes!” I kept looking round nervously, expecting an angry bellow of, “Get orf my land, plebs!” but thankfully, all was calm. We had a look at the fish and the ducks, then flopped onto a bench where we discussed life, the universe and everything for ten minutes. Then, having solved all of the mysteries of the world, we had a walk through the woodland, then headed back to the car.

It was a truly fantastic day. I’d gone there to do research for Kearton Bay Book Three, which will be called Once Upon a Long Ago. It features Will and Lexi, and their lives at Kearton Hall, so I wanted to immerse myself in the atmosphere of a stately home. Burton Agnes Hall really did the job. I came home fired up with enthusiasm, and ready to commence writing. We’re going back to the Hall later in the year, and we definitely want to see it all decorated for Christmas. I can’t wait. Thank you, Jemma. xx

Have a great week xx

It’s Publication Day!

Yes, it really is, and how am I celebrating? Well, in my usual glamorous fashion, I’m catching up with blogging, emails and (hopefully!) writing this morning, before heading off to the day job. No Champagne or celebration cakes for me. Oh, no. I like to keep things down-to-earth. Ha! Like I have a choice.

To be honest, I’ve been ill all weekend, so the shine has kind of been taken off the whole thing for me. I’ve honestly been too worn-out-headachey-aching-limbs-sore-throat-feeling-sorry-for-myself to think about publication day much. I’m hoping whatever nasty little virus has attacked me this time, clears off pretty sharpish. Mind you, the way this year has been going, it’s only a matter of time before it lets its mates know and the next horde of germs move in. I never seem to be free of them lately.

But enough of this tale of woe. It is publication day, and I’m delighted to say that This Other Eden is now available to buy for Kindle for the bargain price of just £1.99. Fingers crossed, it’s also available to buy in paperback for £9.99, but you’ll have to check that out for yourself. At the time of writing this blog, the paperback hadn’t yet appeared for sale on Amazon, but it shouldn’t be long.

So, if you fancy heading off to the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, to spend time with an ageing rock star, a double-crossing politician, a spoilt brat who is angling for her own reality show, an inept journalist, a confused young woman who’s really not herself, and a truly delectable sheep farmer with a more-than-passing resemblance to Aidan Turner, treat yourself to This Other Eden for less than the price of a cappuccino, and enjoy…

Have a great week xx

Rumour Has It by Jill Mansell

I have no idea why, but this is the first Jill Mansell novel I’ve read, in spite of owning five or six of her books. I’ve meant to get round to it for ages, but recently, I decided to finally read one, and I selected Rumour Has It at random.

Well, I was completely hooked! From the first page the characterisation was outstanding and the writing strong. Jill Mansell makes it look completely effortless. The narrative flows onto the page, as bubbly and sparkling as fine Champagne, and I was carried along, utterly enthralled to the very last page.

I found all the characters really enjoyable – even Stella, who I actually ended up feeling really sorry for. Can’t say more than that. Spoilers! Tilly was lovely, and I was rooting for her all the way through the story. I totally adored Jack, and could quite see why the ladies of Roxborough were so smitten with him. Max and Lou were lovely – witty and interesting in their own right. And how refreshing to see an ex-wife portrayed in a good light, with a marriage that ended in friendship instead of all-out war.

The writing is so warm and funny and easy to read, which is the sign of a gifted writer. It’s lovely to read the last line, hug the book (or Kindle!) to you, and heave a deep sigh of satisfaction, and that’s what I did last night, having stayed up late to finish Rumour Has It, as I desperately wanted to know how it ended. I now have four or five other Jill Mansell books to read, and the prospect of many more available to buy, which is a lovely position to be in. Definitely five star fiction! 5/5

You can buy Rumour Has It here.

New Book is up for Pre-order!

This Other Eden, the first in the Skimmerdale series, is now available to pre-order on Amazon. The release date is April 5th, so not long to go. Hopefully, the paperback will be available on or around the same date, but I’ll let you know if I hear differently!

The main heroine in this book is a young woman called Eden Robinson, who, due to the fickle finger of fate pointing mockingly in her direction, finds herself in the unfamiliar territory of the upper Yorkshire Dales. She arrives at Fleetsthorpe, a sheep farm belonging to Eliot Harland, who lives with his three young children, to care for the family after the loss of Eliot’s wife, Jemima.

Of course, things aren’t that straightforward. Eliot is disturbingly attractive for a start (he would be, since he looks surprisingly like Aidan Turner!) and Eden wasn’t expecting that. This rather throws her off course. Battling with her growing feelings for both Eliot and his children, a woman who clearly resents her presence at Fleetsthorpe, and a man who is far too devious for his own good, Eden’s summer proves more eventful than she’d anticipated. To top it all off, she’s not really herself any longer.

With a cheating husband, an ageing rock star, and an inept journalist in the mix, things are about to get a whole lot messier for Eden…

This Other Eden is available for pre-order here.

Have a great week xx

Welcome to Skimmerdale!

Book three is being prepared for publication as I write, and will be available for pre-order very soon. I just wanted to show you the cover and tell you a little bit about it.

It’s called This Other Eden, and it’s set in a new location. I haven’t abandoned Yorkshire, of course! For this book, however, I’ve moved inland, away from the coastal charms of Kearton Bay and into the breathtakingly beautiful Yorkshire Dales.

The fictional area of Skimmerdale was inspired by Swaledale, a location that’s important to me, as it’s where my maternal ancestors – the Keartons – lived and worked for centuries. Whenever I’ve visited there, it’s felt like home, so it was the obvious choice for This Other Eden – particularly as I needed somewhere beautiful but remote, a place that could feel as if you were a million miles away from civilisation. There are some pretty villages and fantastic scenery, but you don’t have to go far to feel as if you’re the only human being in existence – although you’ll almost always be able to spot a sheep! Here’s a little bit of what This Other Eden is about…

“Eden wants to keep her job, and if that means spending the summer caring for three young children in the wilds of the Yorkshire Dales, she’ll do it. Her consolation prize is that their father is unexpectedly gorgeous. Sadly for Eden, she’s not quite herself any longer…

Honey wants to spend the summer with her married politician lover. The only problem is, there are quite a few people determined to put obstacles in her path. But what Honey wants, Honey usually gets…

Cain wants a knighthood, and is willing to sacrifice almost anything to get it. If his daughter is putting that goal in jeopardy, it’s time to get tough…

Lavinia wants to keep her marriage intact, and if that means turning a blind eye to her husband’s philandering, she’ll do it. But that doesn’t mean she can’t have someone else spying for her…

Eliot wants to care for his children, and to be left in peace to heal. When he gets an unexpected guest, he wonders if it’s time to start living again. But is the sheep farmer having the wool pulled over his eyes?” 

I’ll let you know as soon as the book is up for pre-order. It won’t be long!

Have a great week xxx

 

Scotch on the Rocks by Lizzie Lamb

What I loved about this book was how easy it was to see it unfolding in my mind, and how much it reminded me of those old black and white films, where the hero and heroine exchange snappy dialogue and circle round each other, but you just know that they are made for each other – however much she makes sarcastic comments, and however much he tries to play his cards close to his chest. This would make a great film, although preferably in colour! It has all the ingredients, after all:

Setting? The story takes place on the Scottish island of Eilean na Sgairbh, which is cut off from the mainland twice a day, and is reached by a causeway called The Narrows, so there is a fantastic setting.

Heroine? A sassy, independent, intelligent young woman called Ishabel Stuart, who has returned to the island after the death of her father – a man, it has to be said, who was not exactly easy to like. Issy returns to her Aunt Esme’s home, hoping to find peace and quiet, and some sort of refuge, with the woman who has been like a mother to her, since her own mother, Isabella Tartaruga – a famous opera singer – more or less abandoned Issy in pursuit of her career. What Issy finds is that Esme is about to leave the island for one of her “missions” and she is leaving behind a paying guest. Issy isn’t happy about having unexpected company. Not only does she have to organise the service for her father, but she has secretly broken off her engagement to her boss’s son, Jack, and also quit her job. She intends to start afresh on the island, and having to care for a house guest isn’t part of her plan.

Hero? The unwelcome house guest turns out to be Brodie, a tall, auburn-haired hunk of gorgeousness, all the way from America. Brodie is charming and friendly, and soon has the islanders eating out of his hand, not least the impressionable young Lindy, who helps Esme out at her guesthouse.

Secondary characters? Lots of them. Lindy channels various guises, refusing to accept that her future lays on the island. She is determined that one day, she will lead a more glamorous life. When Issy arrives home, Lindy is being Lola, who intends to head back to the USA with Brodie. There are plenty of other characters who add colour and cause amusement, too. Irene runs The Pickled Herring pub, and plenty of fun is to be had within those walls. Then there’s Mary Tennant who is Lindy’s long-suffering mother, running the post office with very little help from her flighty daughter. Best of all, there’s Pershing the parrot, whose vocabulary is colourful, to say the least. Pershing seems to have a pretty good grasp of what’s going on, and provides useful commentary and unvarnished opinions at every opportunity. He also causes some damage to Brodie, which leads to quite a revelation for Issy! Issy’s parents are larger-than-life characters. Isabella, who was actually born in Scotland, has adopted the persona of the grand Italian opera singer, and is desperate to be the centre of attention wherever she goes. Then there’s Issy’s father, a successful businessman who became a lay preacher, strict and unforgiving, leaving his daughter not a single penny in his will – his shadow looms large over her life, long after he’s gone.

Plot? Ah, full of twists and turns. Secrets and lies, heartache and loss, a mission and a hidden history. A mysterious tattoo. A ruined distillery, owned by the Stuarts, which once made the fabulous Twa Burns Whisky. A cruel deception and a big surprise. It’s all there, and it unfolds beautifully through the narrative.

Romance? The best kind. It starts off with mistrust and doubt, sparks fly, passion ignites and then…Well, some romances are forever. There’s nothing so romantic as a hero who vows never to hurt the heroine, never to leave her, and to love her forever. Especially when you just know he’s speaking the truth. And I do love a hero in a kilt, not to mention that auburn hair. Sigh.

So you see, this would be a great film. For now, though, read the book and watch it all unfold in your mind’s eye. Sometimes the imagination is even better than celluloid, after all, and Lizzie Lamb’s assured writing is all you really need. Another winner. Can’t wait for book four. 5/5

You can buy Scotch on the Rocks here. 

Step Away from the Delete Button!

Today, I honestly feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. No, it’s nothing to do with dieting. If

I’m not going near them!

only! That’s a whole different story. Suffice it to say that I was doing quite well, until I spent a week at my daughter’s house, pet sitting and house sitting, without my husband keeping his beady eye on me. Left to my own devices, I skipped gaily around the aisles of the supermarket (I’m lying, I couldn’t skip to save my life) and filled the trolley with all the treats I have been deprived of for the last few weeks. I daren’t get on the scales now. I’m my own worst enemy, as my mother frequently points out. Thank you, Mother.

 

Anyway, I digress.  Today – as I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself – I feel a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Today, I got the urge to work on Kearton Bay Book Three. I have been avoiding it for so long that I can’t begin to tell you what a relief it is to be able to say that. Well, write that, but you know what I mean.

Before I found the razor…

I have procrastinated for so long over this book that I’ve grown a beard. Hey, it’s not my fault – it’s my hormones. Or lack of them. Or something. Anyway, I’ve shaved it off now. But the point is, I didn’t want to write it. Why? You tell me. Maybe it was because I was afraid that I couldn’t write it. You see, There Must Be an Angel took simply ages to write – two and a half years, actually. When I’d finished it, I immediately began work on A Kiss from a Rose, and although that had its ups and downs, once it got going it was a joy to write. By the time Angel was published, Rose was already finished and ready to send to the editor. There was no pressure, no worries, no stress.

 

A little snack to help me think

When Rose was being edited, I knew I had to get on with the third novel in the Kearton Bay series. So what did I do instead? I panicked. I came up with plot lines and characters. I even wrote several scenes. Then I thought, this is rubbish. I can’t use this! So I put it all in the recycle bin, and paced up and down a lot, and ate a ton of chocolate, and lost the ability to sleep, and decided I was a total fraud who only had two novels in me. I knew I had to write something. Anything. So I wrote another story which, thankfully, was accepted by DC Thomson and published as a People’s Friend pocket novel.

 

Rose was published. People loved it. They wanted to know when they could read the third instalment. I sat staring at my computer in a daze. I had nothing. So I wrote another novel, with a completely different cast of characters, and a whole new setting – the Yorkshire Dales. Then I wrote a short story and that was published in The People’s Friend, this time in the magazine. And still I panicked whenever I thought about Kearton Bay. What if I couldn’t do it? What if the third book wasn’t as good as the first two? What if I couldn’t get back into the “feel” of the series? What if, what if, what if. In despair, I picked up my Kindle and read There Must Be an Angel all over again for the first time since it was published. It felt great to be back among my old friends. It was almost a family reunion!

My only bin not full of chocolate wrappers

Then, this morning, I woke up and I just knew. I wanted to write that book. I wanted to go back to Kearton Bay. I wanted to know what was going to happen next. I went into my office, cup of tea in hand, switched on my computer, and began to type.  As I wrote, it occurred to me that one of the scenes I was writing was similar to one I’d written all that time ago. Out of curiosity, I went into the recycle bin and dug out the thousands of words I’d written and ditched. I sat, engrossed, as I read through them. My cup of tea went cold. (It’s okay. I have a very understanding husband and he made me another one!) I enjoyed myself so much that before I knew it, it was time for lunch, and my brilliant husband brought me up something to eat. I sat there, thinking, why did I ditch all this? It’s the story I wanted to tell. It’s the story I still want to tell. What was I so afraid of? So now, those pages have been drafted back into Scrivener, along with the new words that I’ve written this morning.

There are some amendments to be made, and I still have a long way to go, but it’s looking good. Better than that, it’s feeling good. It feels right. It’s working. So the moral of the story is, never, ever delete your old work, because even if you think it’s rubbish, there may well come a time when you look at it and realise it’s exactly what you need right now. And even if it still isn’t right for what you’re working on now, it may well be just the thing in the future. Believe in yourself, believe that you can do it. And, for pity’s sake, step away from that delete button!

Sorry, but I haven’t mentioned Doctor Who in AGES!

Have a great week! xx

Cover Story

It’s been almost eleven months since I published There Must Be an Angel. How time flies, right? It’s been a steep learning curve, and I feel I’ve been groping in the dark for most of that time, trying to figure out the marketing side of things, and trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m now a published author. It’s still difficult to believe, even though I’ve since published a second novel, A Kiss from a Rose, and had a pocket novel published by  DC Thomson, and (exciting!) am about to have a short story published in The People’s Friend Special no 119 (out February 17th, I believe, in case you’re interested).

So, you know, it’s been a busy year, and I’ve had my ups and downs. There have been some fantastic highs. Getting positive reviews,  for both novels, from people I don’t know at all, is amazing. Having my novella accepted by DC Thomson was a real thrill, as was getting the email that confirmed they were buying my short story. It’s only since telling people about these two events that I’ve realised how tough it is to get your writing into print with them, so I’m really honoured, and it was so exciting to see my People’s Friend pocket novel on sale in supermarkets, newsagents and WH Smith!

On the other hand, I’ve realised how tough it is to make an impact. I read recently that there are now four million books available in the Amazon Kindle store. Four million! How do my little books get noticed? Having said that, it cheered me up a bit to think that both novels have been in the top ten thousand at various times. I’d been thinking that was pretty lowly, but when you look at the bigger picture you see things very differently. It’s still an uphill struggle to get people to notice your work, though, and sometimes it does seem like an impossible task. I felt like giving up at times, but how do you give up something you love? You can’t, and the simple fact is, I love writing. So, even though I didn’t hit the top one hundred, I kept writing.

I’ve recently completed edits on my third novel, and I was testing out a cover idea on my writing pals, the Write Romantics, and showed them my design and asked for their opinions. The one thing about the Write Romantics is that they’re honest. Thank goodness. They pointed out that I was missing the obvious.

Being a bit dim, I asked what was the obvious? Because, obviously, I’d definitely missed it. Back came the chorus – “Yorkshire!” It turns out that what they associate my stories with the most are the settings. The glorious North Yorkshire coast, the quaint smuggling village based on Robin Hood’s Bay, beautiful Whitby, the moors and the heather, the red roofs and winding passageways, that are the backdrop for the Kearton Bay stories, and the majesty of the amazing Yorkshire Dales, with those rolling hills, lush valleys and sparkling rivers, that provide the setting for my new novel.

“You should make more of the locations,” they informed me.  Well, I went away and sulked for a bit, and then I thought about it. Then I ate some chocolate and felt a bit better and thought about it some more. Then I set about designing new covers and sent them to Jo, who is a whizz at these things, and luckily, she loved them.

So, the upshot of it all is, I’ve been rebranded. And it didn’t hurt a bit! I haven’t changed the paperback covers for Angel and Rose, but the Kindle versions are now sporting their lovely new designs, which show off the beautiful area they’re set in. Future Kearton Bay books will have both Kindle and paperback covers in a similar vein.

I really hope you like them!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a great week xxx