Jen Black's Blog, page 12

“Just get to the end of the chapter"

Crinan 

I’ve always used chapter breaks to stop reading. 

“Just get to the end of the chapter and then stop.” 

Don’t know why I do this, but maybe that writing style was inbuilt in the authors I grew up reading. Today, not so much. All sorts of pauses and downright stops are employed now.

As a writer, I look at things differently. 

Much of the time I should like to stop the chapter on what I fondly hope is a cliff hanger, or at the very least, something that will persuade the reader to read on.

Many new chapters begin by ushering in a change of both setting and characters. In other words, a scene change. Scene breaks also occur within a chapter and that means the writer has to ensure the reader carries on reading without feeling they’ve been dumped in a new environment or with strange new characters they know nothing about. 

I have lately discovered what I think is called “the narrated slide” into a change of scene. A carefully worded slide into a new place and or time. The trouble is that this method oftens sounds passive and too many scene breaks in a chapter make the writing choppy. To be honest, when reading I don’t mind if it happens once or twice, but when it happens in every chapter, I find it annoying. I try to avoid it when I am writing.

Technology Rules

 My current aim is to make a landing page.

A week ago, I wasn't sure what such a thing might be. 

To be honest I'm not exactly sure now and it seems devilishly difficult. But I shall keep trying. To be honest, I need something to concentrate on since Perla left us this week. I now have a house full of dog baskets and beds, but no dog and it is a year on the 12th since Tim left me. Plus which we have a funeral for a family member on 10th.

A landing page is supposedly what I need to get people to join my email list. I tried last year with Mailchimp and managed the first newsletter but could not get the instructions correct to send out a second or third letter. To my shame, I gave up. But now I am trying again with Mailerlite in the hope - faint, I admit - that it will prove easier.

Wish me luck. If anyone has any advice don't hesitate - tell me!

My Reading

 

These are the books I’ve read in the past few weeks:

Just like Heaven by Juia Quinn. Amusing in its way but I kept forgetting I was reading something set in Regency England. The conversations, and the language could have been in a contemporary novel.

The fine art of invisible detection by Robert Goddard. I always enjoy RG’s books. The main character of this one is a Japanese lady by the name of Umiko Wada who sets out to discover why her boss was killed. Kept me going back to it until I had the answer. A good read.

Revenge by Tom Bower. Ties together all the bits and pieces I’ve picked up on the internet over the last few years. Lots about Markle’s early years, during which her father paid for everything she wanted. Much less on what happened after the wedding.

The Cove by LJ Ross. Set in a make believe Kynance Cove in Cornwall where I spent many a happy teenage /early 20s holiday. A pleasant read, as ever, but I now have trouble remembering the plot.

Wild Child by Mary Jo Putney. Another historical romance. Doubtful about this at first when learning of a heroine who could not speak and was suspected of being retarded. But it seems she could, and did, and the story was different and interesting.

In the Blood by Steve Robinson A crime committed in 1803 resonates down to the present-day Cornwall and a genealogy hunter risks his life to solve the mystery and save a life. A good read.

All the Weyrs of Pern by Anne McCaffrey. AIVAS IS discovered and the Red Star vanquished. An absorbing read. Her world of Pern is so real and I adore the talking dragons.

The Renegades of Pern by ditto. Lots of familiar, well-liked characters in this though the main thread is about Thrella’s leadership of a band of murdering rogues.

Sacrifice by Sharon Bolton. I read this on first publication and thought it great. Today I was less impressed, but of course its that annoying thing “I can’t remember the story line” but as each plot point unfolds, I recognise it and the surprise value was lost for me this time around.

The Decision by Penny Vincenzi. A monster of a book with 800+ pages. I used to read a lot of this genre when I was in my twenties and enjoyed it but by the time the end approached, I knew what was going to happen, for I had read it forty odd years ago!

The Jane Austen Pocket Bible by Holly Ivins. Interesting but a tad repetitive.

The Dolphins of Pern by Anne McCaffrey. Entertaining. Lots of characters I 

recognise.

This is not a lounging holiday

 

11thSeptember

More gunshots this morning. A hunter parked at the end of the lane, and I didn’t want to take Perla out while he was firing over the fields. The owners of the mill tell stories of hunters shooting each other more than the game they are chasing, which sounds both reassuring, thinking of the wildlife, and a little worrying when considering our own safety. We know the man who, with the help of his dog, tracks down the animals they do injure but don’t kill. He makes sure they do not suffer.

We’re starting on the roundup of “last tasks” – shaking out beds, cushions, sofas, sweeping floors, dusting, last minute washing of socks and knickers to get us home feeling clean. Dh has trundled the BBQ down to the Earth Room, (which I am told has now been renamed the West Room) and is currently out on the tractor cutting the grass. I am still dead-heading lavender. Tomorrow the Great Packing Adventure begins.

The heat has been so intense these three weeks with all but two days in the high thirties that working after 11.30 was impossible, so there are some things we did not get done that we would have liked to do. Our holidays here are not the lounge around the pool kind. Dh sanded and revarnished or Danish-oiled the fence around the pool and the balcony fence. I pruned the garden that skirts the pool (and got well and truly bitten doing it!) and we both hacked away at the vegetation so there is a wider view of the field from the bolly. The pictures are a Before and After record. We wanted to trim the laurels at the back of the mill, take some of the ivy off the trees and tidy the creeper in the east patio, but it wasn't to be. 

Walnuts, anyone?

 

5thSeptember

Thunderstorms at 11.20pm last night. Almost continuous sheet lightning that lit up the entire mill, front, back and sides at the same time. Thunder but no rain, or so little rain that we did not hear it. Perla being totally deaf is lucky in these situations as she slept right through. Tim would have been bouncing around – totally alert, half afraid and half aggressive.

Dh drove into Vergt and did a shop that is supposed to last until we leave for home. Sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don’t, but it is not a worry as we have to go into Vergt on Monday to see Monsieur le docteur le vétérinaireto get Perla’s worming tablet and her Animal Health Certificate signed off. Then we have a few hours to get to Calais and through the tunnel back into England. (Out of interest for anyone thinking of taking their dog to France, we were charged £65.) Considering the £225 in England for the AHC before we went, and £65 in France, it is an expensive option – thanks to Brexit! Bah humbug.

The mornings are noticeably colder now, and likewise the evenings. A good time to get work done – it was far too hot when the temperature was in the high thirties, but low twenties is ideal. The nasty little biting creatures seem to be gorging on us as if to fatten up for the winter. I don’t see them, but I have several nasty bites, and they have attacked Perla’s paws as well. The pool is not quite so inviting now, and the leaves are turning yellow gold. I sweep the fallen ones from the bolly every morning. Sadly, the walnuts are not falling yet, but they are growing.

The very first Sunday of September and a hunter was out with his dogs, shooting at goodness knows what. Possibly deer, rabbits or boar, none of which we have seen, though we have seen signs that tell us they are around. It must be a struggle for them to find water, for the stream that runs through the mill land is still just a trickle and seepage. The spring that feeds the pound, however, runs as it ever did, so they will always find water here.

Sleeping in the leper house

 

You need a password before they will open the impressive solid wooden gates to allow you to drive into the grounds of L’Abbaye Royale de Fontevraud.  The old Leper house now operates as a very smart hotel and that is where we stayed the second time in Chinon. 

https://www.medart.pitt.edu/image/France/fontevrault-new/fontvrlt-tombs.html

In the nave of the white stone abbey there are what I first thought were coffins but later discovered were effigies depicting Henry II, and Eleanor of Aquitaine, (always Peter O’Toole and Katherine Hepburn in my mind!) I think the other two were Richard the Lionheart and his wife Berengavia.

The rooms are small since they were designed for monks and patients but are wonderfully “dressed” as they say these days. Medieval tapestries, hangings and furniture, but with comfortable beds and a tiny, but modern bathroom!

We ate in the cloister, where linen cloths covered round tables surrounding le petite jardin. I dined on sandre, or sondre, which still remains something of a mystery as the word, depending on whom you ask, translates variously as pike, eel or perch, which I know are three very distinctly different fish; but it was delicious in a light butter sauce. And I slept well. No ghosts at all, royal, leprous, fishy or normal.

Chinon

 

The Sauvignon Blanc grape is planted along the eastern banks of the Loire in limestone country and it produces two exceptional wines – Pouilly-Fuméand Sancerre. What I did not know was that fume refers to the smoky bloom on the grape as they ripen, and not the flavour of the wine in my glass.

Chinon on the river Vienne is known for its red wines. We stayed there once in a lovely Best Western that had all its ancient woodwork modernised but with the style preserved. That stay was overshadowed by the fact that we got a parking ticket for being a little late on returning to our little white Toyota sports car. 

Worried that the gendarmerie would swoop down on us and with dh knowing from previous French holidays that heavy fines landed on those who did not pay up within 24 hours, we spent a restless night until he could go and settle the payment. (He now thinks the fine increased the longer you delayed in paying it - but then admits his French was maybe not up to the task of translation!)

A Catastrophic winter

 

Saturday 3rd August

Flicking through another book on the shelves here, I found this little story: there was a catastrophic winter in 1709, so cold the sea froze over near the Loire estuary, the vines were destroyed. The wine growers, or vignerons, replanted with a white grape that was more resistant to frost. Melon de Bourgogne was its name, known locally as Muscadet. Inexpensive, it is one of the classic wines of France – Muscadet de Sèvre-et-Maine, awarded an Appellation Contrôlée in 1926. A crisp, dry white it is perfect with shellfish and seafood. 

The vineyards lie south and east of Nantes and the rivers are the Sèvre and the Maine. Much of the wine is named Muscadet-sur-Lie and it is slightly petillant. I thought Lie was a river but now I discover the term means wine that has been left to drain naturally after fermentation while still in contact with the lees. A small amount of carbon dioxide is retained after bottling, which gives the slight “fizz.” Usually wine is drained, racked off and put into a fresh cask. So now I know a little of the history of the wine I love drinking!

 

Weather, wine and thunderstorms

 

31st August

Dead mouse floating in the pool this morning. Where it came from we don’t know. It wasn’t there first thing. I only noticed it while we were pulling weeds and trimming the lavender. The temperature is still in the thirties, with brilliant sunshine, so not a lot of work is being done after mid-morning. Yesterday morning a fox walked across the garden, bold as brass at half nine in the morning.

1st September

Yesterday we drove into Vergt and detoured by the household waste bins as we had a week’s worth in three separate categaries – paper, glass and household waste. Everything else is supposed to be composted. Every commune has a designated bin area and every householder has to buy a pass keycard that unlocks the household bin. The other two can be used without the card. Absolutely no rubbish is collected from the home now. (It used to be picked up from the end of the drive once a week, but no longer.)

The detour meant we had a slightly longer drive than usual. At this time of year the fields are full of sunflowers and sweet corn, both of which grow taller than five feet. This year they are poor crops because of heat and lack of water. The sunflower heads are half the normal size and the sweetcorn is dry and shrivelled with hardly a corn cob to be seen.

It must be heart-breaking for the farmers. They bought seed early in the year, ploughed the land, planted the seed and watched it begin to grow. When we were here in April I walked Perla early one morning, turned the corner onto the St Laurant road and saw a thin bright ribbon of green shining in the sun. It was the first sign of the sweet corn breaking through the soil. If I can find that picture I will load it when I get back home. After all that effort, money spent on seed and petrol, his crop has come to nothing. He will be lucky if there is anything to feed to his cattle this winter. I don’t know how the strawberry growers got on, for the season seems to be over here.

Last night a tick attacked Perla. She felt it and ran away from it, and kept on doing that. At first I thought flies bothered her, but in the end I examined her carefully and found the large grey thing gripped onto her back leg just where the long hair curves over her ankle. Dh removed it and I bathed the wound. After that, she cuddled into us and seemed more comfortable. The tick now lives in the septic tank!

2nd September

Two rolls of thunder at 5am this morning and then a heavy downpour. I got up to shut the window in the living room in case it was slanted to the west, but all seemed well, and I shut it anyway.

For a little light reading I dipped into A South Wind through the Kitchen (Elizabeth David) and looked up wine. Every kitchen, says the author, should hold a bottle of red and of white wine and to remember that the wine is cooked, so that the alcohol is volatilized (if only I knew exactly what that meant) and only the wonderful flavour remains. For short cooking dishes, reduce the wine to half the quantity by fast boiling.

Abandon the cabbage water, gravy browning and cornflour when making gravy, she says; instead, strain off the fat from the roasting tin, pour half a glass of any wine in and scrape up the juice of the meat, let it sizzle for a minute or two, add a little water, cook gently for another two minutes and your gravy is ready.  It sounds very much what my mother did except she had no wine and used said gravy browning. I guess I still do the same, but occasionally I add red wine.

If you make the mistake of adding white wine to Moules Mariniere, Ms David says you will find the whole dish turns “a rather disgusting blue.” She adds that cider is excellent for cooking white fish and mussels, ham and rabbit as long as it is draught or vintage cider.

The wine of this south west region has been known and loved for 700 years. The Pechamant is our local wine appellation though there are eight others in the area. Pechamant make fully dry reds which require aging, so I have to confess that we haven’t bought any. Aging wine is not for us. We prefer the type that needs to be drunk now.  We like Muscadet-Sevre-et-Maine 2021 from the Loire region and a Bordeaux Superieur 2020. Mind, it is 13.5% proof and after two glasses I’m either madly cheerful or asleep.

So relaxed we are melting

 26th August

Relaxing nicely into the French experience. We eat our meals on the bolly beside the pool, and admire our efforts to tame the rampant greenery. Tonight we had salmon with nectarines, camembert, cornichons and black olives with salad, plus French bread with grains of mustard. A selection we would not think of in England. A swim every day for me, but not dh, who does not swim and cannot be persuaded into the water. We rescued a big green lizard who was so startled to see dh, he jumped aside and fell in the pool. We fished him out with the scoop and he scuttled off into the bushes. (I have so little internet access that I shall load pictures once I am home.)

We’ve never been here in August before and it is different. The heat is steady most of the day from 10am, with no wind, and the nights are pleasant. Saturday night we sat out until midnight and stared at the sky. There is little or no light pollution here, and the stars are amazing. Best of all there are no mosquitos! Though there are small things that bite flying about – we both have several lumps, bumps and bites to prove it. There are very few flowers in the fields and we have yet to hear the sound of a tractor – very different to earlier in the year when the farmers are rushing about growing and harvesting crops. The sunflowers on the hill opposite are still yellow, but won’t be for much longer.

There are few holiday makers around. We hear maybe one or two cars a day, which is staggering. Even white van man is not bombing around as he is in the early part of the year. I wonder if the holidaymakers have stayed home this year. The stream is so low it barely trickles over the stones and all the sunken wrecks of once proud trees are plain to see.

Perla thinks it is too darned hot. I must admit we spend a good deal of time in the shade of the bolly. Up early, we walk her while it is cool, do whatever tasks need doing and then relax for the rest of the day until wine o’clock ( at 4pm!) and dinner as the sun starts to go down.

With no access to Facebook et al, I have written the first chapter of a new historical romance set in, of all places, Newcastle!