Paula R.C. Readman's Blog, page 31

Not Long Now.

The launch of my new book is getting closer. Yesterday morning I received an email from my publisher about my MS. The email was to tell me that the MS has been signed off. I have now forwarded the blurb, acknowledgement and dedication to my publisher so hopefully I will hear The Phoenix Hour my timeslip novel is ready to be launch and have a date to share with you. As the book will only be available as an eBook for the first three month after its launch, I can’t have a physical launch until about September, which is a shame as I sell more paperbacks than eBooks.

As you know I love the natural world. So to help stop the decline of our hedgehogs in Britain due to poisoning and death on our busy roads, as they move from garden to garden, I recently bought two hedgehog houses to place around mine. As you can see I have a good size garden and hedgehogs are regular visitors to it. I’ve often seen their droppings around the garden. After seeing the one my friend had in her garden, I thought it would be good to put two houses in mine as I knew that hedgehogs camped out in my compost heap and I hate disturbing them when preparing the garden for the winter. They are such wonderful creatures and are great little helpers in the garden too, as they munch their way through slugs and snails which do so much damage to young plants.

I’m very careful only to use slug pellets around the plants I want to protect and then I fence these off so the hedgehogs can’t get to the slugs. It would be a shame to lose the hedgehogs from our countryside forever.

These are some babies that arrived in my garden in the autumn of 2014

my side garden Back garden view to where hog house is hidden. One of the hog houses in its place. My Buddha.

Hello Beautiful

As I identify as a woman, I’m getting more and more wary of friends request from men on any media site. Just recently I accepted a request on Goodreads expecting it was because they were interested in books, reading my reviews on the books I had read, or maybe, they had read my books and wanted to chat to me about them. Then I received the dreaded PM from them that always opens with Hello Beautiful.

My heart sunk. So I’m not even safe on Goodreads. Since when has Goodreads become a dating app. In my younger days, I was very wary of men. They had a nasty habit of talking to my breasts and didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact with me. Then there were the men who twisted every thing you said into a sexual comment, or called you a prick teaser, because you spurned them.

I’m guessing all women have experience the same sort of unwanted attention or comments. As a young woman, I learnt quite quickly to avoid making eye contact, not smiling too much, being careful how I dressed, always wear shoes you could run in, and choose a well-lit route when walking home. When at parties, not to be overly familiar with men as you can give out the wrong kind of signals.

A conversation at the weekend with friends at a BBQ highlighted the situation from young man’s point of view. It was interesting to hear it from a man’s viewpoint. Our friend said when he was young he had a problem with talking to women. I found this odd as whether you identify as male, female or any of the other genders at the end of the day, we are all human first. Surely language and speech is our first means of communication. Whether that be sign-language too.
Finding a common subject, or starting with small talk helps us all to understand each other first.

Maybe I’m just old fashioned in my way of thinking, even after all these years. I find it very strange not to be able to escape unwanted attention, even at my mature years. Surely getting to know someone through conversation is the best way forward to find out whether your advances are wanted, or will be returned. It would be lovely if men understood that we women love to chat. Just finding a common, intelligent subject to talk about will help us to get to know each other. The chat can be about music, childhood or future plans for holidays etc. Don’t belittle us or try to be smart, or arrogant. Just let the conversation flow, and see it as an invitation to friendship, and not an invite to the bedroom.

Real friendship takes time to grow and doesn’t happen overnight. The more you know and understand someone, the stronger the relationship will be. If it grows into a loving friendship, then that is when you take it to the next level, if the person feels the same as you. But, first you need to get to know each other to see whether you have the same interests, likes or are compatible. Though, the internet makes it hard to spot the love scammers from the genuine guys who are just like us.

Nowadays, I just accept a friend’s request from those who have the same interests as me, and if I accept a man as soon as I receive a Hello Beautiful message, I just delete and block.

Charity Shop Find

My husband and I went into our local town. In one of the charity shops, I found an amazing vase. It was made by a potter called De Rivaz, from Bishops Stortford. The figure on the side of the vase reminded me of Granny Wenlock.

I know English witches weren’t burnt at the stake, and this figure appears to be tied to a tree or post. I thought it was amazing to come across such a piece that fitted in with my Granny Wenlock character in the charity shop. My husband said, if I liked it, we would buy it. To our delight we found it had been reduced in price too.

The vase now sits in my fireplace with dry flowers in it. I’ve been thinking about the storyline over the weekend, but haven’t done much writing because a lot has been going on. As you all know it was our Queen’s Platinum Jubilee this weekend so our village held a Party in the Park to celebrate her wonderful service to our country.

Queen Elizabeth II

Bye for now, I shall be back soon.

Telling Martha Wenlock’s Story.

Whoooo! At last the words are back. Today, I’m so excited to finally find the opening to my Granny Wenlock novel. After three nonstarters, her voice is coming through loud and clear.
It was only right to Granny, or should I say that Martha Wenlock introduced herself properly to the reader. I was desperate not to land up writing a continuation of The Funeral Birds and wanted to introduce the reader to whom Martha Wenlock was, and what her background story was, and- why was she accused of Witchcraft?

In Britain, witchcraft wasn’t a capital offence until 1563. When in 1484, Pope Innocent VIII denounced it as heresy against the church, so by 1750 over 200,00 so called witches had been tortured, burnt or hanged in Western Europe. The plain and simple fact is over this period in history women, especially older, poorer women who were unfortunate to have any crone-like appearance .i.e. snaggle-toothed, sunken cheeked or hairy-lipped were assumed to be possessed of the evil eye. If they lived alone in the company of a cat this was taken as further proof of being a witch. After being condemned on this sort of evidence they then under went terrible torture that would make you confess to anything, if you hadn’t already died of shock or a heart-attack. Thumb screws (pilnie-winks) and leg-irons (caspie-claws) which were heated over a brazier before applying them to the legs. ( just the thought of it makes me want to confess to being a witch)

Most of you will have heard of the Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins. There has been many films and books written about the man and his terrible reign of terror. The man was just out to make money. He was a failed lawyer and plied his business around East Anglia over fourteen months between 1645-1646. The people in this part of England were Puritan and anti-Catholics. Like most Christians at that time Puritans believed in the active existence of the devil and demons which could possess and harm men and women. This widespread belief in witchcraft and witches led to unexplained phenomena such as the death of livestock, human disease, and hideous fits suffered by young and old being caused the devil or his agent, a witch.

L0000812 Matthew Hopkins, Witch-finder..Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images.images@wellcome.ac.uk.http://wellcomeimages.org.Matthew Hopkins, of Manningtree Essex, The Celebrated Witch-finder. From a very rare print in the Pepysian Library, at Magdelene College, Cambridge.. The discovery of witches. Hopkins, Matthew. Published: 1837..Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

On Matthew Hopkins say so, he had sixty-eight people in Bury St. Edmunds tortured and put to death, and in Chelmsford, in a single day, nineteen were hung. In Aldeburgh, he was paid £6 for clearing the town of witches. At that time it must be remembered the average daily wage was 2.5p, so he was making a small fortune. Kings Lynn raised £15 and a grateful Stowmarket found the grand sum of £23 to pay him to murder their so called witches.

His method of locating the Devil’s Marks was to hunt out a flea bite, wart or mole on his victim’s skin, and then with the use of a 3 inch long spike called a jabbing needle, he pushed into the devil mark to prove they felt no pain. Of course, this god fearing man was the devil himself as the jabbing needle was spring-loaded and would retract into the handle so the victim couldn’t feel any pain. Matthew Hopkins was a serial killer, with many delightful ways of inflicting pain on the victims. Other tests for proving a witch were the ducking stool, and a swimming test. Poor Mary Sutton of Bedford had her thumbs tied to her opposite big toes before being flung into the water. If she floated guilty, if she sank, innocent. Either way she would died, and he would get paid. Poor Mary floated.

It seems crazy to us in this day and age that anyone could believe in such things, but when you realise the truth behind the persecution of women and some men at the time of the witch hunts you’ll realise that many of the people were killed not because of witchcraft or demons but for the same things that happen today, and will continue to happen into the future. Greed, jealousy, spite, hatred, etc. Many elderly people who owned land, houses or other goods were accused as a means of obtaining their belongings on their death. At the end of Hopkins’ reign of terror he was responsible for over 300 executions. During the second half of the 17th-century there were fewer witchcraft trials in Britain until the last people executed for the crime was Mary Hicks and her daughter Elizabeth in England in 1716.

After the introduction of the Witchcraft Act of 1735 in Britain by the Parliament of the Kingdom of Great Britain Witch trials formally came to an end. The introduction of the Act made it a crime for a person to claim that any human being had magical powers or was guilty of practising witchcraft.  The law abolished the hunting and executions of witches in Great Britain and a maximum penalty set out by the Act was a year’s imprisonment.

The turning point with the Act of 1735 it repealed the earlier Witchcraft Acts as these created intolerance towards practitioners of magic, but became mired in contested Christian doctrine and superstitious witch-phobia. Instead, as the earlier laws did assume witches were real and had real magical power derived from pacts with Satan, the new law assumed the opposite that there were no real witches, no one had real magic power, and those claiming such powers were scammers extorting money from gullible people.

In 1921, in St. Osyth, a reminder of Hopkins’ handy work came to light when two female skeletons were uncovered in a garden. The women’s bodies had been pinned into unmarked graves with iron rivets driven through all their joints to make sure they didn’t rise from the grave.

As I’m setting Martha’s story locally I will be able to use the witch trials that took place in Chelmsford as these are local and happened around the time I have set my novel. I shall keep you updated with my progress.

At last some writing news.

In three weeks time hopefully the edits on my latest book The Phoenix Hour will be finished, and I will begin working on the edits for my second book being published this year. My publisher at Darkstroke has sent me a mock-up of The Phoenix Hour book cover. I’m pleased with how it looks and I’m hoping it will appeal to the readers of Sci-fi and time-slip novels.

It was very difficult to decide what would be the right kind of cover to put on the book as this is the first contact the reader has with it. It’s like window shopping, you need to entice the reader in. The first selections I sent to my publisher, he rejected because there wasn’t enough space around the image to add writing .i.e. title, tagline and my name etc. I was hunting for a picture, I felt would best express the story line of the novel, but unfortunately none were suitable.

I had another look at the selection of pictures on the site my publisher sent me to, and decided to think outside of the box and made a different type of selection where writing could be easily added. The four new pictures I selected looked more like steampunk picture frames of brass and metal. When I wrote The Phoenix Hour, I wanted to write a steampunk tale with female lead characters so the style does suit my novel.

I know many years ago when I first wrote the book, I was told by an agent ‘No woman would want to read this book.’ So it will be interesting to see whether women or people who recognise themselves as females enjoy reading The Phoenix Hour. As a writer I’m careful and very much aware in this day and age, everything needs to be unisex or non-sexed. Diversity is the key and my writing must reflect the changes in society, but I find this to be a minefield in itself. I can’t picture writing a character, with serious health issues, riding a horse in a battle scene in a fantasy novel, though I suppose you could write a character with breathing issues in a sci-fi novel encased in oxygen suit floating in space.

For me, I want my writing to flow and be as natural as possible as I sweep my reader, whoever they may be, along in the tales I’m telling. I’m sure they are plenty of writers with health and disabilities who are able to write with their point of view in mind. I shall continue tackling mental issues within my novels rather than the physical problems which I haven’t experienced myself.

Anyway, on a lighter note, I have been doing a lot of walking to keep my mind and body in good order. I have been creating some short slideshows. Here’s my latest.

Have a wonderful weekend. I shall be back soon once the edits have been completed.

Best wishes all.

Finally Moving Forward

I’m starting to get excited. I’ve finished the second lots of edits on my new novel, The Phoenix Hour. Dean of Demain Publishing has been in contact to let me know that he will be back in contact with me at the beginning of June to work with me on my new Gothic Ghost novella.

I’ve been out walking every day for my health and well-being. Since the lockdowns I have gained weight, but I’m trying hard not to get hung up by it, the most important thing is to keep fit and healthy both in mind and body.

Walking every day has given me the opportunity to photograph scene for new painting too. I’ve just completed another picture.

Cressing Church Essex.

I might have a go at watercolours next or even diluting the acrylic to a wash. I have one or two ideas to what I might paint next.

Here’s a couple of photos I took this week.

I will of course add a bit more details into the pictures but we will see how it goes. I’m still working out the next Granny Wenlock novel. I’m definitely starting it from Granny’s point of view, I’m sure it’s the right place to start it.
This weekend my village is having a Garage Sale and I shall be promoting my work. Hopefully, I shall gain more readers.

Chat again soon.

The Phoenix Hour and Bluebells

At last, I can move forward with my next novel The Phoenix Hour as I’ve finally received the second part of the edits back from the editor. The self-doubts about my ability to do anything outstanding or amazing has been eating me up over the last few weeks. It sounds crazy, I know, but I guess it’s left over from my school days. Being in the bottom of the class for most things has never really left by adult self. I know all creative people and many others go through the same, and I’m always pleased to see others shine. I just hate the thought that my whole life has been mediocre. I want just one thing that I feel I was good at for my own satisfaction.

I know if I compare myself with others there’s a risk of becoming vain or plain bitter. There will always be others who will have greater and lesser skills than myself. It’s the nature of the beast. My life has always been a personal challenge to see if I can improve myself. Normally, when I hit a low point in my life, I focus on something new.

I have a lot to be grateful for, so I shouldn’t complain. The destruction of Ukraine makes my insecurities fade away. After a quick slap on the wrist, I will pull myself together and focus on finishing my edits. Who knows what tomorrow may bring for any of us.

I’m still alive. My country is at peace. My husband is busy, and happy in his new job and with our new, second hand car after the loss of our old one. Russell had a close encounter with a badger and the car was written off. I live in the countryside, surrounded by amazing places to walk. Yes, I have much to be grateful for, but self-satisfaction is important for one’s well being and mental health, too.

My drive has always been the memory of my grandmother sitting in a hospital ward, after three heart attacks. When I went to see her, she said to me. “I’ve just been sitting here thinking back over my life and wondering how different it might have been if I had made different decisions. If I had taken this route, instead of the one I made.”

I really don’t want to be knocking on death’s door wishing I had tried harder to achieve my dreams and ambitions. Maybe, I have set my bar too high. My schooldays have much to answer for in my self-doubt. Paula must try harder, it often said in my school reports. In my head that read as Your best isn’t good enough, Paula.

Once the edits are back with the publisher, I will have to wait to see what other changes are needed to make it the very best it can be. For now, I must keep on trying to improve myself and stay focus.

It’s a long way down

On a lighter note: Nothing more perfect than an English Bluebell.
The English bluebell is known for its colour, the slimmest of the bell and the fact it tells you the wood you’re walking in is an ancient place.
The trouble is this flower and plant is so delicate if you walk on it and crush its leaves it kills the plant.
The bluebells bulbs and leaf bases are full of a white slime which was used as a glue in bookbinding and as a source of laundry starch. In Scotland it was considered unlucky to pick bluebells. In Devon it is considered unlucky to bring them into the house. However, insects, especially bees find the bluebells invaluable.

The beauty of an English Bluebell.

Just My Thoughts

Still stuck in limbo. I’m waiting on the return of my second half of my new novel. At the moment, I can’t focus on anything new as far as writing is concerned.

The horror of what is happening in Ukraine has put me off writing horror stories. The reality of the destruction of innocent people who wanted peace is so horrific to me. A man left his wife and three month old baby daughter to see if he could find food only to return to find their apartment on fire after another missile attack. War isn’t just about bombing a country but the rape and murder of its people. Russian soldiers have committed terrible crimes too.

The thing that shocks me the most about it all is I feel we have stepped back in time. The fact that Putin has become so powerful that he can blackout the news and media coverage of what he is doing in his country and run his country in the same way as North Korea does. I guess the people around him are too frightened to speak out. At least I hope that is the case.

Has history taught us nothing?

I find myself thinking about George Orwell’s book, Nineteen Eight-Four. Big Brother is still alive and kick.

Peace is such a precious thing. I guess we’ve all taken it for granted. The freedom Europe fought hard fought during the Second World War is being eroded by Putin. Is he so scared of losing control of his wealth and power that he is willing to set his country and his people back to the Cold War era. Are the young Russians so willing to return to the era of the Iron Curtain and be cut off from the rest of the world, I hope not.

If we all thought Covid, the unseen killer of Millions, across the world was a terrible thing and we were quick to put a stop to its spread and work together to find answers. Then we need to act quickly to stop the spread of this hatred.

I don’t know the answers. I can only hope the world leaders across Europe are stronger enough in character and heart to make sure they can resolve this awful situation quickly. If history is about to repeat itself then Putin might spread his evil further by entering Poland if he does then we will see this war escalate.

I keep having vivid dreams about trying to escape, or I’m trying to help others to escape. In my dreams last night I was trying to build a safe haven, and stock what was needed I wake up feeling mentally tired as well as being physically exhausted. I’ve been trying not to watch the news, but this leaves me feeling like I just don’t care.

I know we are all trapped in a dark tunnel with the increasing price of food and fuel across the world. There will always be winners and losers and it will be the poorest of is who suffer the most. I hope compassion survive and good people step forward to fight in the name of freedom, honesty and peace however they can. Good will over come evil in the end.

Yesterday, I went for a walk to our local bluebell woods. It was so peaceful with just the sound of the birds, in the distance the hum of traffic and planes overhead. I hope peace returns to the Ukraine and its people can start rebuilding their lives soon.
Please enjoy this walk with me.

In Tarecroft Woods

The Witch Must Die

I have to put my hand up and admit I’ve been having a tough time with my writing. After being totally obsessed with writing for so long it’s wore me down. This doesn’t mean I’m giving up, just slowing down and not pushing myself so hard.

In truth, I’ve been disappointed with what I have achieved so far with my books. As I don’t have a regular income, I can’t afford to invest money into marketing which just leaves me with Facebook and Twitter as a means of free publicity. This isn’t ideal as Facebook is awash with authors all chasing the same readers. I find Twitter more rewarding but again it is difficult to know whether you have reach your target audience or not. At least with Twitter there are readers asking for book recommendations to whom you could suggest your books.

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At the moment, I’m waiting to receive the second half of my novel, The Phoenix Hour edits back from my publisher’s editor so I’m in limbo. I was hoping to have my latest novel done and dusted by now so that my mind was clear to focus on my Granny Wenlock series.

I’ve been stuck on the sixth chapter of the Granny Wenlock novel because it wasn’t exciting me enough to find out what happens next. If I’m not excited by it then my readers won’t be. I have the plot line mapped out in my head, but I kept hitting quite a few stumbling blocks. The main one being how Granny contacts Dave.

Yesterday, I started rearranging the plot in an effort to kick start my thought process. I felt I had created a barrier in my mind because I was stuck on The Funeral Birds plot line. I had the same problem with Roofscapes when I was trying to turn my winning short story into a novel. It took me two years to realise I needed to come at the novel from a totally different angle and that was when Stone Angels was born.

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I’ve decided to come at the problem from Granny Wenlock’s POV. Tell her personal story. What makes her tick, how did she become Granny Wenlock. Last night, I went to sleep thinking about the new plot and when I woke up I was saying these words: – The Witch Must Die! Were the last words I heard on this earth. Beauty is a dangerous thing when a man doesn’t get what he wants.

Now I have my opening I’m excited.

This Morning Walk

Yesterday my friend and I did a long walk across the fields. This morning I did a short walk around the nearby lake. The sunlight was stunning and the birdsong was sweet.

I’m still waiting for Darkstroke’s editor to return my MS to finish the editing. I’m still busy finishing my painting.

Western Lane Lake. Toward Monk’s Farm